"Star Wars/Wing Commander: The Imperial March"

Table of Contents . . .



THE SECOND BATTLE OF TERRA

ISD2 DEATH’S HEAD; BRIDGE
THE SOL SYSTEM, TERRA QUADRANT, SOL SECTOR
DEC 31 2680/2680.364; 0920 HOURS (CST)

“By the Force..."

When, out of all imaginable impossibility, the Eclipse-class Super Star Destroyer the computers identified as the Eclipse III was plucked from hyperspace at the edge of Sol System, the bridge crew of the Imperial Star Destroyer Death’s Head fell into a frenzy.

Seventeen and a half kilometers in length, 500 turbolaser batteries, 75 ion batteries, 550 heavy laser cannon batteries, and a single superlaser at the keel of its dark mass—it was the most expensive, largest, single most deadly capital warship the Galactic Empire had ever dared construct.

"Relax, Admiral," Grand Moff Jhediah coaxed. "We’ve already forfeit the Vacillator and the Kilrathi’s Hakaga... our trump cards have been played. Now that additional help arrives with the potential to rebolster our fleet and crush our now-withered opponents... you can honestly question it?"

While Admiral Güthrig went feverishly from crewpit to crewpit for the answer, Grand Moff Jhediah calmly stood beside his command chair. If one didn’t know better, Jhediah seemed completely unconcerned by the matter.

"Where did that Eclipse come from?"

"It was our Interdictor Cruiser, sir," an ensign shouted from a starboard crewpit. "It pulled the Eclipse III out of hyperspace."

"The Vigilance?" Güthrig turned on his heels, facing the Grand Moff. Earlier he’d decided to ignore the Interdictor, which had seemed to be caught behind their flanks fighting an in-system rear guard. "But on whose orders was the Interdictor’s commander acting? I want to speak to them at once."

"They were on my orders, Admiral," Jhediah spoke, calmly.

"What?"

Jhediah gave him a measured glance. "Emperor Palpatine had a great number of prophecies in his time... visions he would have his scribes document for the good of the Empire—specifically its future."

"You’ve been planning this all along, then..." Güthrig winced. "You’ve known..."

"Not everything, of course, but I knew what needed to be done." Jhediah folded his arms, smiling tersely. "Who do you suppose is in command of that Eclipse, Admiral? Who do you think?"

Güthrig’s eyes widened with horror. "You... you can’t be serious, Jhediah..."

"Communication incoming from the Eclipse III," a comm officer called.

"Put it on, Lieutenant."

A blue-tinted holographic projection of a hooded man appeared just before the viewports of the bridge.

"I wish to speak to the current Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet," came the figure’s icy voice—there was no mistaking it, for it was Emperor Palpatine. "I want to speak to him now." It contained less of the raspy overtones that came in the Emperor’s later years, giving Palpatine’s voice a decidedly youthful voice.

Grand Moff Jhediah approached the holographic transmission of Palpatine and knelt, his head tipped low. "I am eternally at your service, my liege. It truly is the day of your Empires deliverance that now you yourself ha—"

"Grand Moff Gillead Jhediah," the Emperor cut him off. "You have failed me."

Jhediah furrowed his brow and looked up. "I... I am unsure of what you mean, my lord. I have served you to the full bene—"

"When you departed our galaxy your fleet was strong. Had you moved about this galaxy in modest strides, the Imperial Fleet would not be in the deteriorated state it is in now, the result of the decadence you have subjected it to." The hooded image of the Emperor leaned forward, repeating, "You have failed me, Grand Moff Jhediah."

"But, my lo—" Jhediah broke off in mid-sentence, the words caught in his throat. As his bridge crew watched on, the Grand Moff writhed, slowly buckling over on his knees, choking and gagging uncontrollably. He gave futile gasps of air as he clutched for his throat, the air simply no longer reaching his lungs.

Soon, Grand Moff Jhediah’s limbs fell slack, the life gone from his youthful eyes.

Emperor Palpatine craned his wizened visage in the direction of Güthrig. "Admiral Güthrig..."

Admiral Güthrig froze in mounting terror, fearing what next words may come from the Emperor’s lips, as they could be the last he would ever hear.

"Admiral Güthrig, know now that I promote you to the rank of Grand Admiral. Beneath me, you are now the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet." He paused, letting that sink in. "Do not fail me, Grand Admiral Güthrig."

Güthrig swallowed on a dry throat. "Thank you, your majesty," he managed to speak, but the Emperor’s transmission had already cut out. Trying to compose himself in front of his bridge staff, he made a show of walking to the command chair formerly belonging to Jhediah. He looked to Admiral Tschel, the former CO of Death’s Head. "You are now my executive officer, Admiral. Is that understood?"

"Yessir," replied Tschel, saluting.

"Oh, and..." He nodded at the crumpled body of Jhediah lying in a heap on the floor. "Dispose of... this, please."

As a pair of ensigns tended to the body of the late Grand Moff, Güthrig took his seat.

INTERDICTOR VIGILANCE
0935 HOURS (CST)

Captain Vincent Gederin watched in awe past the ongoing battle as the eleven-mile long Eclipse III passed his much smaller Interdictor Cruiser and waded into the pickets of the Confederation/New Republic fleet. This battle is over, he thought and allowed himself to laugh aloud. “Hakagas and Dreadnoughts be damned; that is a real warship.” His first officer nodded and he could hear chuckles around the bridge. Spirits were high as victory marched toward Earth.

But the high spirits turned to gasps of terror as the Gravity Projectors yanked something new out of hyperspace: a pair of light carriers escorted by three Sheffield and two Murphy-class destroyers, one Tallahassee-class cruiser, and a freighter—he realized they must be the relief forces the slicers listening in on Confed comm traffic indicated had been recruited from the Gemini Sector, and recognized the strange freighter as that of the New Republic’s General Han Solo. In seconds, fighters launched from the light carriers and began to attack the hapless Interdictor.

Before long it was all over.

As, several minutes later, Emperor Palpatine issued his demand for Blair and Skywalker to the Terrans, Captain Vincent Gederin was watching from his escape pod as his former command burned in space.

TCS MIDWAY; OPERATIONS PLANNING CENTER
1000 HOURS (CST)

"... I repeat again for the last time..." Emperor Palpatine reached the end of his transmission. "Commodore Blair and Jedi Master Skywalker for mercy on your Terran homeworld of Earth. I do remind you that my flagship has the power to decimate Earth at my will. And as a demonstration..."

In the only recently occupied OPC of the megacarrier Midway, CAG Patricia Drake and Senator James "Paladin" Taggart stared in awe at the communications holographic display. Meanwhile General Han Solo, his wife, Chief of State Leia Organa Solo, their daughter Jaina Solo, Leia’s Alderaanian personal advisor and decoy, Winter, and Chewbacca the Wookiee monitored the Tactical HQ through their own channel on the Millennium Falcon.

Through the viewports of the OPC a singular, vibrantly crimson Plasma Laser Cannon-like blast was emitted from the front of the Eclipse III’s hull. The tight beam lanced out, striking and atomizing the TCS Fenrir in a quick, white-hot blast, tearing through it and striking the Apostle beyond it nearly as hard, consigning the unsuspecting ship into oblivion with it. The two blackened, ripped apart hulls were thrown against the already-weakened, bare starboard hull of the TCS Kyushu, breaching the hull on several decks before nearly taking yet another ship in its battle group as well, the Concordia-class TCS Valley Forge. It took the Kyushu a few seconds for its hull integrity to collapse. The Forge was luckier, managing to stagger off the momentum of its collision with only its starboard shields being damaged.

"Bloody hell..." Taggart whispered.

The washed-out figure of the young Emperor Palpatine, assisted in power and might by his Imperial Royal Guardsmen, could be seen dimly smiling before it winked out on the display dais. His demands that the apparent intergalactic twins Commodore Christopher Blair and Jedi Master Luke Skywalker would need to surrender themselves to the SSD Eclipse III had been met. And, for the moment, the Second Battle of Terra that had involved the Midway had ceased.

As the two twins left for the port-aft Docking Bay, others were not so eager to have Blair and Skywalker risk their lives alone. CAG Patricia Drake, Senator Taggart, and Marine Lt. Colonel Elsin Dixon—CO of the Midway’s detachment in Colonel Dekker’s stead—automatically considered the next course of action.

"Those superlaser banks are charging," informed a young lieutenant.

"Well, superlaser or not, I won’t sit idly by while two good men that’ve each saved their own galaxy’s ass serve as bargaining chips for Earth," Dixon said scratching the back of his clean-shaven blond-haired head as he turned to the others. His beady eyes were tense with a yearning for action. Rather than being in a tactical center, he would rather be on a Marine LC right now where he felt he belonged.

The Senator scratched his thick black beard, agreeing. "Aye, lad. What d’ya plan on doin’ about it? That big hulkin’ Angel o’ Death is sitting right on our doorstep and we are reading an energy charge on the countdown. Something is going to happen... And Blair’n Skywalker are big on the outcome."

"I say we set up that ‘Angel o’ Death’ for one of our own countdowns," the CAG answered. "Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want to ring in the New Year in peace time."

Lt. Colonel Dixon slapped his assault rifle with a gloved hand and let out a war whoop. "Now that’s what I want: less talking and more action!"

"Simmer down, ground-pounder." General Solo remained without confidence. "What do you have in mind, Drake? We can’t blow that blasted vessel up. Even a whole fleet couldn’t do the job!"

Uncharacteristically, Patricia let out her long dark hair from its band and ran her fingers through it. Everyone was tired and tense from the days-long battle, especially her. She had seen Earth in the same dire situation of possible global devastation over ten years ago and she wasn’t about to let it happen a second time. "You’re right. We can’t blow that up," she said. Keying a sensor read-out of the Eclipse III, her holographic schematics began to rotate on the display dais. "Her armor is thick enough to ram this ship even without so much as a dent."

Leia didn’t need the Force to know what the Midway’s Air Group commander was thinking. "But we need to cause a disturbance. They can’t have control of us all of the time, so we need to make this our battle."

Commander Drake paused, then spoke. "That’s why I’m sending the Midway’s entire Marine division on board—what’s left of our two brigades—to either take over the behemoth... or die trying. I will ask the Vesuvius-class dreadnoughts to submit their own troops... but for now the Midway Marines are going in alone."

Chewie moaned sorrowfully.

"My fleabag friend here is right, Commander. Even with the troops you will send you could only round up maybe about two thousand—and that’s on a good curve. However, the Eclipse III is carrying a full complement, I’m betting, including one-hundred fifty thousand troops."

"And you already have whatever the Defiance can spare in the way of troops," Leia added.

Jaina, staring distantly into the stars, added, "It’s a suicide mission."

Lt. Colonel Dixon straightened his helmet. "Exactly, ma’am, it’s a suicide mission. Look, my people are always up for the fight but not when there is no a possible goal. Hell, I don’t think we could even scratch that bastard ship even with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse leading us."

Pissing on the odds, the CAG wanted it done. "I guess I will talk to the sector Space Marshal and convince him to submit everything we have in the way of troops to overtake that ship. We can’t just sit here.

"Lt. Colonel Dixon, you will lead your division into the ship through any access port you can get into. Once you get in, destroy anything you see on that ship: troops, machinery, computers, fighters... anything. If it lives, breathes, and unfortunately has an Imperial insignia on it, then it’s dead. You got that?"

"Yes, sir, but we will need someone who knows Imperial ships inside and out to go with us."

MILLENNIUM FALCON; COCKPIT
1004 HOURS (CST)

Jaina leaned over her two parents, looking forward to the CAG over the holo-comm. "I’ll go."

The rest of the people on the Falcon nearly wet either their clothes or their fur.

Han put the channel on mute. It wasn’t right for two orderly military officers to hear a family quarrel. "No you are absolutely not! Didn’t you hear what that Marine said? It’s a suicide mission," Han retorted.

Jaina answered, rolling her dormant lightsaber around in one hand. "I’m a Jedi. I can take care of myself—it’s not like I’ve never put my life on the line—first the Shadow Academy... the Diversity Alliance..." She let out a sigh. "Besides, the Marines need me... and Uncle Luke needs me. You know that. Isn’t his life worth anything to you two?"

"How can you say that, Jaina? But hey, Luke can take care of himself. He always has. Jaina, you’re a Jedi Apprentice still... a Padawan learner, as they were once called," Leia answered. Mara’s Padawan by request, actually, but Mara was a long ways away. "If Luke wanted you to go—"

Jaina stood up determined already that she was going. Walking down the corridor to the lounge, she opened up well-hidden compartment. Pulling out a flak jacket she clipped it on over her black jumpsuit. "I don’t care if Uncle Luke didn’t tell me he wanted me to go. I need to go. Alone, if I have to."

Chewie growled lowly, while Han interjected, "No you are not! You are not going alone."

Leia had a tight-lipped smile of satisfaction over Han’s "foot-forward" attitude. But In response, Jaina spun around to answer her father’s demands but—

Han answered her reaction, "You’re not going alone because you’re taking your mother’s Noghri bodyguards with you."

Jaina shrugged indifferently. She’d always gotten along fine with the Noghri. "Fine with me." 

"And... Chewie’n I are going, too." Han put on a devilish grin.

Leia frowned, rolling her eyes at her daughter and husband. "Okay, fine. You win." She looked over the nearby officers’ faces. "Do you have any more flak jackets for these two idiots?"

TC-10 HERCULES MARINE LC CDS-933; COCKPIT
1010 HOURS (CST)

Through the frontal cockpit viewport, the dark hull of the Eclipse III only increased in measure as Commodore Christopher Blair guided the ship slowly and safely toward one of the hundreds of docking bays among the port side of the gigantic vessel. Neither Blair nor Luke Skywalker cared much for the situation. They were being forced to one path. Whether a path of darkness or a path of victory not even the Jedi Master could tell.

A full wing of TIE Defenders oversaw the lone Marine LC as she made her way toward the jet black mass of the Eclipse III. Blair viewed the small fighters not unlike the Ringwraiths of Tolkien Lore, who served the darker purposes of the Emperor, so like Sauron, and his domain, the Eclipse III, or a somewhat more threatening version of Mount Doom.

This time though, Luke and Blair may have been serving the role of the ring. Together as one they had been sought... But would they have to be thrown into a lava pit? Blair considered, and considered and considered. For the last ten five minutes the tension had been building.

"Y’know, Luke, you’ve been awfully quiet."

"I’m thinking."

So was Blair. "What does your Emperor want with us? Answers? That’s it, isn’t it? He’s going to interrogate us."

"No," Luke answered dryly.

Blair chose one docking bay among the many and plotted it into the Autopilot AI. Swiveling in his chair, he turned to Luke. "So what do you think he’ll do? What will he say?"

Luke waited a moment, peering into a murky future. Even with years of training, he could not foresee into future events that well. The future was always changing, like tides of an ocean. "I cannot even guess."

Blair, frustrated, combed his fingers through his sweat-drenched hair. "Jesus Christ!"

Luke smiled a bit, and broke the tension. "All right... what is this ‘Jesus Christ’ you Terrans keep referring to?"

"Not what, who."

"Okay, I’ll rephrase it. Who was this... Mr. Christ?"

Blair turned back toward the controls, and giggled a bit. "First of all, no one has ever referred to him as ‘Mr. Christ.’ And second, he was believed to be a prophet by most, and the embodiment of one Divine Power by some."

Luke seemed curious. "This ‘Divine Power’... do you mean the Force?"

Blair scratched his goatee. "Yes... no... I don’t know. It’s complicated. Uh, anyway Jesus Christ was believed by a group of people to have died for the sins of Mankind, and to have appeared afterwards."

"Like a Jedi?"

"No, no, no. Christ was no Jedi," Blair denied emphatically. Something then crossed his mind. "Wait. Jedi can appear after death?"

"In a sort of apparition, to an extent, yes..."

Blair scratched his head, then smiled again. "Sheesh, Christ being a Jedi. Who knew? That would explain a lot of things. I guess the Pope would be a sort of Jedi Padawan Apprentice or something if that’s true... all she needs now is a lightsaber. I dunno."

Luke was curious again. "Who’s this ‘Pope?’"

Blair gave his alternate a sheepish glare. "Oh, just shut up and prepare for landing!"

EN ROUTE TO THE EMPEROR’S THRONE ROOM
SSD ECLIPSE III
1025 HOURS (CST)

As soon as the two got off the Marine LC a full detachment of red-robed Royal Guardsmen escorted the doppelgangers forcefully off the shuttle, not speaking a word. Winding their way throughout the bowels of the gigantic vessel, the group turned this way and that through the seventeen and a half kilometer-long vessel.

Blair was marveled by the inner fancywork of such a dark and ominous capital ship. The pylons that supported the corridors they marched through were decked in gold and sometimes they were guided over ivory and marble bridges. A finely woven tapestry depicting battles or glories of the Imperials decorated every other door they passed. Out of all the vessels from the other galaxy, this one seemed built more for form than function.

There was a rustic quality to it, however. A sense that this was a vessel that could conceivably been around for a century... or much more.

"This Emperor Palpatine has fine taste," Blair whispered.

"More like sick taste, considering that everything you see here was built by or stolen from Imperial slaves and prisoners," Luke commented wryly. "Surprised the Empire was able to build a third one of these things. We’d imagined the first two had already bankrupted the Imperials... and that was before Daala’s Knight Hammer..." He brought a hand to his eyes, rubbing them. He seemed out of it.

"Are you okay?"

Luke flinched. "The Emperor is the true epitome of the Dark Side in this galaxy and mine."

"A real Satan, eh?" Blair caught Luke’s unknowing glance, realized who he was talking to, then shook his head. "Never mind... let’s not get that started again."

Luke nodded gratefully. "I feel the Light Side being choked—being compromised—here."

"Don’t worry, Skywalker. We’ll get through this. Whatever he has in store for us, we will beat him." Blair patted his belt. His white-bladed lightsaber was still attached. He’d been something of a wrestler in high school, but never any kind of swordsman or fencer. That still didn’t stop him from being willing to use it at a moment’s notice—he just hoped that was really the Force flowing through him, not bullshit. "Why haven’t these guards taken our weapons?"

"The Emperor’s wishes. Whatever you do, just concentrate on the Force. It is with you now more than ever, I can feel it." Luke placed his hood over his head, and gave his mirror image’s hand a quick grasp for good luck.

The Force is with you, Commodore Blair.

The two entered the cavernous throne room in almost total darkness. The stars through a circular viewport supplied the only light source. Blair noticed the massive fleet of Confederate ships outside, watching and waiting for the outcome of Luke and Blair’s desperate sacrifice: themselves. As soon as they entered, the six Royal Guardsmen that escorted them left without a word.

"My trusted Royal Guard... you’ll have to forgive them." At first, the voice echoed, and could not be placed. "They dedicate their lives to me... that is, despite the one who betrayed me, Carnor Jax... the one who corrupted my every clone. My every clone, however, save one." A barely audible chuckle could be heard. "But greetings, my esteemed guests. I have been expecting you, son of Skywalker, for a long, long time. A married man now, are you? Tell me, just how is my trusted Hand doing these days?" Suddenly, a singular half-meter-wide beam of white light opened from the ceiling...

Presenting, even under a beam of white light, the brooding, black-clad figure of Emperor Palpatine. His bleak cloak masked his build, while his creeping hood obscured the top half of his face. His body looked young, no older than twenty-five. "And you, Commodore Christopher ‘Maverick’ Blair... the one with the ‘Heart of the Tiger’... one of the last ‘Pilgrims’ in this galaxy." His beady, reptilian eyes settled on Blair. "You... are an oddity. Even I had not foreseen a being such as yourself in this galaxy."

To Blair, somehow, not even being captured by angry Kilrathi after blowing up Kilrah could compare to being face to face with the Emperor of the Galactic Empire. He found himself giving some credit to his earlier half-joking notion that he might be the Devil himself.

"I watched you die, Emperor," Luke spoke.

"Yes. You did," Palpatine replied, nodding. "Only it wasn’t the first time, was it?"

"No. Six years after the second Death Star, my sister and I watched your clone blow up with the first Eclipse... then almost a year later Han shot your last clone dead... I watched you die inside Empatojayos Brand on Onderon."

"The madness beyond death could not hold me forever. Many among my ranks underestimated me... underestimated my clairvoyance to see through their thinly veiled schemes of treachery and betrayal. When you scrape them away, you are left with a select few of Imperials in my grand Empire loyal to me unquestionably. Just what did you think I was having Grand Admiral Thrawn doing in the Unknown Regions before his return?"

"The Hand of Thrawn is what he was doing," Luke replied. "While everyone thought you exiled him, you discreetly supported him. You ferried him what he needed—ships, supplies, and enabled him to expand the Empire’s reach. My wife and I saw the maps."

"Ah, yes—quite the asset, that Criss proved to be. But do you suppose that was all? Running idle errands, perhaps? Maybe a tour of the frontier, you suppose?" The Emperor smiled.

Luke suddenly recalled when he and Mara had witnessed the Spaarti Cloning Cylinder that had contained a matured clone of Thrawn that was later disposed of. If the technology was out there... "Cloning facilities... there was more of them..."

The smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure malevolence. "There is always another clone."

Luke stepped forward, his hood still covering his face. "Enough talk, Emperor. You have us, now move this ship away from Earth and power down the superlaser."

"Not so fast, Jedi Master," he answered, referring to Skywalker’s title with venomous distaste. "We have a great many things to talk about, you and I—this Commodore Christopher Blair... he has the potential to be equally as adept in the Force as you are; a soul twin, per say. And your father...

"What do you know about your father? I mean: what do you really know?"

Luke was wary of where this conversation was leading to, however he would play the Sith Lord’s game for the time being. "Not much, really..." He paused. "I never truly knew my father. Only what my Masters Kenobi and Yoda said of him—that he was a good man and friend who took the dark and easy path... under your corrupt instruction." The Jedi Master’s eyes narrowed at Palpatine—borderline anger now. "Your seduction."

Luke turned his back to his nemesis, instead staring out the viewport towards the waiting fleet. They were probably all worried as hell, just watching and waiting. Han and Leia, maybe Jaina, too, were probably all frustrated.

Luke continued, while staring, "Darth Vader was not my father. He was merely a perverse image of my true father, Anakin Skywalker—an image you perverted."

"Blame who you will." Palpatine stepped out of the beam, standing behind Luke. "Anakin made his choice and he assumed the role of my apprentice, my enforcer, and my own personal Dark Lord of the Sith. And he was not evil... neither am I. We simply use only what is natural in the galaxy—hate, fear, and deception. He was a true symbol of might in the galaxy; the personification of my Galactic Empire and New Order as we together swept aside the weak Republic, their useless Senate, and the tiresome Jedi Council...

"The Jedi Council once believed Anakin Skywalker was the one referred to in the Prophecy of the Chosen One—a Jedi above all others who would bring balance to the Force. The truth is, they were wrong. The Chosen One was the Son of Skywalker. It is you."

Luke spun around... it all made sense to him. His direction, his role in the galaxy, being "the first of the new" as Old Ben had told him so many years ago... "Then I have fulfilled the Prophecy of the Chosen One. The Dark Side, your Empire, reigned supreme for only so long. Ultimately, the Light Side struck you down, Palpatine, and your dark forces. I have fulfilled the Prophecy... and now I shall bring it full circle as I strike you down again."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Palpatine gave a glower at the Jedi Master. "Do you hate me so much?"

"Hate is not an emotion I know," Luke replied, his voice balanced and even. "Emperor Palpatine, I pity you."

Palpatine winced in annoyance. "The scales shall need to be tipped evenly again. Our time has never disappeared... it is true the Sith have dwindled, but they have always been. Long gone is the Golden Age of the Sith and the likes of Sith Lords as Marka Ragnos, Naga Sadow, and Freedon Nadd... the halls of the once-glorious Korriban reduced to a mausoleum. Now it is time for our return—and with you two as my chief lieutenants... my... Enforcers of the New Order, it shall be a glorious return indeed. Join me and we shall rule the galaxy—both galaxies—as I will show both of you the true nature of the Force. Compared to the ability to conquer and destroy with only a thought, even this vessel is nothing." The Emperor paused. "What say you?"

Snap-hiss...

A green blade lanced out from Luke’s hand. It was his answer to the Emperor’s question. His hood fell back off his head then, revealing a youthful face of pure determination that might have once belonged to an ambitious twenty-five year-old Councilor Palpatine.

"So be it, Jedi Master," the Emperor seethed.

NRS DEFIANCE; BRIDGE
1040 HOURS (CST)

Aboard the New Republic flagship, the maroon-skinned Admiral Ackbar sat frustrated in his rotating command chair, his whiskers trembling. "Sensors? What’s the status of the Eclipse III?"

A gruff voice answered him through his headset, "All weapons are dormant... wait, her superlaser is charging again!"

Ackbar moved his chair, sliding down the control console to get a sensor feed. "What in the Force—"

"We’re getting a message from the Imperials on a wide-channel frequency, Admiral," informed Lt. Commander Tannas.

"Play it."

In the middle of the bridge, a washed-out image appeared blurred but then focused. "This is Grand Admiral Güthrig, speaking on behalf his majesty, Emperor Palpatine, and his forces. All Terran and Rebel ships will stand down and surrender to the Imperial Fleet at once or you and the planet you protect, Earth, shall face destruct—"

Ackbar intervened. "Cut the link, and make a new one to Space Marshal Voight, Commander of Fleet Action in Sol Sector. He should be on the TCS McKinley."

"Channel open, Admiral."

A smooth-headed bald man with a black goatee wearing a dress uniform decked with medals and ribbons for every sort of merit answered. "Voight here. I know, Defiance—the Imperial message."

"Space Marshal Voight, I have fought the Empire for decades on end. I won’t stop now. Not here, not ever. Even if Earth stands in the balance." Ackbar winced, remembering well his days as the slave of Grand Moff Tarkin. He had come a long way.

"Agreed. We Terrans aren’t ones to give up easily just because things are rough—look at our history. We’d rather be dead than enslaved."

"Now I agree, Space Marshal. Reassemble your forces and concentrate your collective firepower on that Eclipse Super Star Destroyer. May the Force be with us all."

NEAR EARTH
1042 HOURS (CST)

Outside, all capital ships quickly reformed and took flank upon one another. All at once, they synchronized their fire and began to hail streams of energy and projectiles at the shields and hull of the Eclipse III. To bolster the effort, even older capships were being called into action by the homeguard militia—ancient Exeter, Gilgamesh, and Paradigm-class DESRONs in the reserves of the First and Fourteenth Fleets and the UBW Navy joined the flanks of the Murphy and Sheffield-class destroyers. Equally ancient Venture-class corvettes and Waterloo-class cruisers escorted the Tallahassee and Plunkett-class cruisers, Los Angeles-class PTs, and Caernaven-class patrol frigates. Even the old, 720-meter Ranger-class light carrier TCS Victory (CV-40) was there, recalled from its Saturn orbital museum by order of the sector’s space marshal.

Yet the death vessel sat unmoving, almost ignoring the punches with her powerful point defenses. However, in the only response, several hidden compartments opened in the hull of the ship. Not just several compartments, but twenty.

Out of them, like great rivers, swarmed black fighters with appearances that matched the mood and sinister motif of their mothership. Two hundred fighters lined up in formation, standing between the newly formed Confed-New Republic fleet, and the Imperial-Kilrathi fleet.

"Good God! This is gonna be murder," General Antilles announced over the comm of his X-wing. "Pilots, be advised... those fighters are Shadow Droids—fighters hardwired with the brain tissue of deceased Imperial Aces." Another one of Umak Leth’s murderous wonders. The Rogues had encountered them before, six years after the Battle of Endor during Operation: Shadow Hand. "Form up, be on the defensive, full throttle!"

"I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m really starting to wish the Lusankya had made it through that black hole with the Defiance..." mumbled Commander Corran Horn, referring to Rogue Squadron’s captured Executor-class SSD headquarters.

"I hear you there, Rogue Three," spoke Captain Tycho Celchu, Rogue Two.

Two full carrier wings from the Defiance and the Midway moved in to intercept the Shadow Droids. Stingray was among them.

"Got it; I’m going in. Someone cover me." Major Dirk "Stingray" Wright maneuvered his fighter into the swarm, ducking and weaving the dark nimble vessels and their energy streams. He released a fury of dumbfires, most of them impacting on several within the closely-knit swarm.

But then a full squadron of TIE Defenders swooped down on top of him, barraging his shields and chewing up his armor with their concentrated firepower. Stingray took a sweep up towards the full squadron, releasing some IFF friend-or-foe missiles in hopes of breaking the TIE Defenders’ formation.

Instead, the Defenders released a horde of chaff countermeasures. The missiles followed the chaff, leaving Stingray still open for a full attack.

He never had a chance, even on a good day. With the deliverance of another barrage of green energy, Stingray’s already weak shields and scarred armor were compromised, while his Tigershark burst apart in several hundred pieces.

"Damn it, no!" Several thousand kilometers away in the cockpit of his dying F-109A Vampire, Colonel Jacob "Hawk" Manley stared at the furious belch of flame, and looked again at his static-filled sensor MFD displays. "Damn it, kid. You did good." His voice was choked with pain. Patrolling around Hawk in his ejection pod were Antilles and Maniac...

"I’m sorry, sir... what did you say?" Maniac inquired.

Hawk fought back tears. "Nothing, Major... just this damned battle." It was no use. A single tear fled down Manley’s cheek, never to be wiped away by his hand.

TCS MIDWAY; BRIDGE
MEANWHILE…

Several hundred dark fighters bled from the Eclipse III in a furious and unexpected splendor of force.

In reaction, Wilford commanded the first coordination. "Rigel-class ships, charge those PTCs and fire when ready at the enemy flagship." He paused, then swept a look over his bridge staff. "That’ll knock that iron bitch out."

Four 800-meter Rigel-class stealth carriers—the Necromancer, Apocalypse, Polaris, and the Rigel itself, in addition to the 1,500-meter Fenris-class heavy carrier Reynard, flanked by the flight wings of the TCS St. Helens and 920-meter FRLS Mjollnir, assembled the first line of the fleet currently comprised of task forces of the First, Third, Seventh, and Fourteenth Fleets. All five of them were ready with their Phase-Transit Cannons, and discharged the blue pulses simultaneously at the Super Star Destroyer on cue. All five pulses were resounding direct hits.

Instead of obliterating the entire vessel, they left none of the extensive damage they were originally designed to do. Instead of deep gaping holes of fire and fury bursting from inside and out of the Super Star Destroyer, only scarcely visible red dots of damage compromised the vessel’s black armor and powerful shielding.

Mk3B MISSILE BOAT 101
1044 HOURS (CST)

General Maarek Stele pulled his fighter off the docking racks, pushing his engines to a quarter of their capacity. Outside the hangar of the NRS Defiance, where he had briefly spoken to the New Republic’s Admiral Ackbar about his defection while resupplying his vessel, several wings of fighters on both sides of the battle proceeded to destroy each other at whatever the cost. Behind those waves of fighters and their supporting vessels, a shiny blue planet with people living on it sat, waiting for its fate.

Much like Kuan... so much like Kuan...

Stele pushed the comparison out of his mind, and instead channeled the Hangar Flight Controller. "This is Missile Boat One-Oh-One departing back into the foray. Weapons are hot, engines are gearing up."

Outside, flanking the six remaining Imperial II Star Destroyers was the Eclipse III, officially reported to be under the command of the Emperor himself.

He is back... here and now. He is back.

A voice entered his head, a young man’s voice, but all too reminiscent of another so long ago. Guardian of the Empire, my trusted Hand... Come to me, Maarek; return to your Emperor.

Maarek looked once again at the blue planet known as Earth. The Empire was hours away from total domination of the planet, and from there they would only seek to conquer other planets, and then others and others. All because the Emperor demanded it so.

The Old Republic had been an alliance to fortify peace, a mosaic government that had lasted over five thousand years. When disorder had rotted the Republic from within, his Emperor had taken control in the name of peace. Now, that time of disorder was long gone... and imperial conquest was the only direction the Emperor had led their galaxy toward for his "New Order." Palpatine had wanted conquest and control, where peace and prosperity had needed to be restored to the time before corruption... before the Galactic Empire.

Maarek had endorsed the New Order, first by letting Kuan and the entire Taroon System be taken by it as a young man and then enforcing it himself—in the name of the Emperor and His Great Word. And now he had crossed the point of no return by trying to take another world, in another galaxy even, under the Emperor’s New Order.

Not again, not ever again.

Stele clenched his fist, feeling the ring he wore beneath his glove. It was the ring wrought of platinum with two onyxes and an emerald stone set in it, cased in the purest of gold.

"This is means by which you will pass on the true leadership of the Empire, once I am gone," the Emperor had once told him before his fate on Onderon. "One day, you will have to use your judgment to find an heir to title of emperor. I trust you will choose wisely."

That was fifteen years ago. Maarek still bore the intricate mark of the Emperors Reach, a dark crimson tattoo on his forearm that told of his place in both the Emperors Inner and Ruling Circle.

Come back to me, Maarek; come to your Emperor. I have returned...

Maarek choked down his emotions, knowing they would lead him down the wrong path. Fear, anger hatred... Palpatine would only use them against him. Steles response was short, simple, and yet oh so clear:

Fuck off, your Highness.

Kicking his fighter into full throttle, Stele screamed by the Defiance’s escorting 300-meter Nebulon-B Frigate Liberator toward a full squadron of Defenders that had just chewed out a Confederate fighter. Bearing down right on top of them, he released full guns at full power and proceeded to release the squadron’s pilots of their lively duties. One by one each were obliterated with only a remaining green burst of illuminated gas.

Screeching through the scattering debris, the General moved toward an assembled flight of the dark Shadow Droids.

SSD ECLIPSE III; EMPEROR’S THRONE ROOM
1026 HOURS (CST)

Luke swung his lightsaber up over him, slashing downward hard and swift against the dark figure of the Emperor who stood in front of the viewports.

"How I do detest violence..." Within a blink, Palpatine flicked his wrist, revealing a long-handled lightsaber that spat out a blue energy blade with an equally disturbing snap-hiss. Without turning he swung the blade up over his head, blocking Luke’s slash, and then he turned.

His black cloak flew off his body, revealing young, thin and muscular toned flesh and body covered with leather and barbed gauntlets around the wrists. A jade Sith Medallion on a silver necklace lay on Palpatine’s neck, shining eerily with a dark power.

The Emperor threw Skywalker’s blade off, arcing down toward the Jedi Master’s legs. Luke jumped, barely missing the energy blade. In the air, Luke swung himself around, swinging his blade toward Palpatine’s neck. With futility, that move was blocked by a quick jab upwards of the blade.

Curving Luke’s lightsaber off him, the Emperor jumped completely over his foe, and arched his blade once again toward Luke in back. Luke pulled a full reversal, and jabbed his blade upwards himself to compensate, successfully doing so.

Suddenly, the Emperor became somewhat furious. With a strong and totally violent slash, Luke was knocked off with such force from the blow. With his blade already in tried position, Palpatine could only use a swift kick to Luke’s chest. Skywalker was stunned for a moment, but was not fazed indefinitely. He repaired, spinning around in his own violent rotating slash.

The Emperor, with one hand repairing from a violent slash and a leg already exhausted from a violent kick, used one last move. While his opponent was in mid-air, the young Emperor’s other free hand spanned out, releasing dark energy...

Purplish-bluish energy streaked and crackled out from his hand and all upon Luke’s body, making the Jedi Master writhe in pain. Luke fell to the ground, his lightsaber extinguishing.

With a maniacal laugh, the crackling energy ceased, leaving Luke still in shock and paralyzed. "And now, Jedi Master Skywalker..." The Dark Jedi regained mastery over his lightsaber, and began to draw it upon the fallen Jedi, "... you will die."

"I don’t think so."

Snap-hiss...

In a dark corner of the Throne Room stood Commodore Blair, his white-bladed lightsaber up and ready.

The connection to the Force was fully made, like a shock of realization, when Blair ignited his weapon. It did not feel awkward, as he might have expected, but somehow... right. A blanket of senses overcame and overwhelmed him. It was like he could hear whispers of thoughts all over the ship, and he had eyes anywhere and everywhere. A strong sixth sense. All at once, he knew things... peace, love, understanding and all their capacities to help and guide others. He at last understood what the Pilgrim Karista Mullens had been trying to teach him of the Pilgrim powers he had within him twenty-six years ago on the TCS Olympus.

He knew the Light of the universe.

Alas, a darker force stood on the rim of his awareness, in a single spot as a single entity. Serving as a pillar of hate, fear, deception and power and promising Blair’s deepest desires through domination and deceit.

He knew the Darkness of the universe.

Beware the Dark Side, Chris! Luke beckoned. Fight the Emperor out of protection of Earth, not because you hate him. He will use that hate to his advantage! Do not lose you battle with the Dark Side as he has. The Force is with you... always.

Christopher Blair was ready in a fighting stance, and moved slowly and silently toward Palpatine.

Luke broke from his pain for a moment, rolling toward Blair, and then stood next to him, re-igniting his own green-bladed lightsaber. The two moved toward Palpatine even further...

The Emperor responded in kind, backing up slowly. Turning his questionably long-handled saber parallel to the ground, he pressed another button on the grip. With a threatening vibration in the air, yet another blue energy blade spat out from the other end, creating for the Dark Jedi’s use a dual-bladed lightsaber or lightquarterstaff.

Luke tried to control his fear. The last man to use one of those was the Dark Lord of the Sith before Vader, a tattooed alien with the Sith name of Darth Maul. He was a master over it, as he had later learned Maul had, in the years of disputes and bickering prior to the Clone Wars, struck down the renown Jedi Knight Ben had been apprenticed to, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Of course, the Emperor responded to Luke’s inner thoughts, who do you think taught him how to wield such an effective weapon?

"You were his master," Luke spoke. "Even before you were Supreme Chancellor Palpatine... even before you were Senator Palpatine... you were Darth Sidious."

The Emperor did not seem surprised at the identification, as if puzzled that such a thing would even be considered a mystery. "Prepare yourselves!"

Luke and Blair, both with their lightsabers, swung down and swung down hard upon his Highness.

Mk3B MISSILE BOAT 101
1050 HOURS (CST)

Maarek charged through another devastated squadron of Shadow Droids, taking down twenty-eight so far. Each time they had become faster, more intelligent and more aware of Stele’s piloting skills—as if the next SD couldn’t be taken down in the same way as the last one.

The General suspected that the fighters coordinated by each other, relaying tactical and sensor data. So each new target he locked onto was smarter than the last.

The former Imperial checked his HUD, and to his fear and amazement, a full squadron had locked onto him, swarming over him. Stele didn’t have the element of surprise on his side this time, and could only release several chaff pods while spinning and punching his afterburners.

First one shot from the squadron tainted his shields, then more and more blasted down his shielding.

No... not like this. Never like this! If I am going down I will take as many as I can down with me!

The General jerked his fighter toward the Eclipse III, bearing toward one of several of the docking bays... he planted a course in his mind toward Hangar 234, near the massive engine compartment of the mighty behemoth.

Saw-toothing upward and downward to beware of laser fire from his six, he quickly allocated power to his engines, running them over the safety limits. Quickly his two ion engines began overheating.

"Danger: engine meltdown in thirty seconds," a calm male computer voice announced within the pilot’s headset.

"ETA until Hanger 234?"

"Twenty-eight seconds, twenty-seven, twenty-six…"

The chasing SDs continued to fire relentlessly, and Maarek’s already-weak shields began to phase and flicker.

"Hold together, baby, so you can burst apart later," Maarek could only joke at his impending, triumphant doom. And then he remembered something. Flicking a switch, he looked at his fore and aft HUDs. In a rear view, past the chasing fighters, sat a blue marble of a planet.

"Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen..."

With one last precaution, Maarek fired at the containment fields of the hangar’s entrance, blasting through them and allowing his ship a quiet entrance into the vessel. All the Eclipse III’s defenses were being concentrated on his new friends, the Allied Galactic forces. His friends...

Keying an open channel, he had fourteen seconds left. "This is General Maarek Stele, traitor to the Empire and now a member of the New Republic. I let the Empire take my parents and my world of Kuan, and I joined them in their mission of conquest. Now I realize I was mistaken, and I will now pay the ultimate redemption. To any New Republic vessels that can hear this message, tell my mother, Marina, what I did and whom I did it for. Tell her... tell her I know who I am now. End of message."

"Five, four, three..."

In a rear view, past the swarming fighters, sat a blue marble of a planet.

"Two—"

So much like Kuan...

Maarek’s spinning fighter, upon forced entry into the hangar, exploded immediately and violently.

KIS VHAS’KARATH; FLAG BRIDGE
1055 HOURS (CST)

From the viewports on the bridge, the explosion of the suicidal Imperial-turned-Rebel’s Missile Boat could be seen in all of its glory. It caused a chain reaction—the other hundreds of fighters positioned for take-off on their docking racks blew up one after another in what could only be described as a domino effect. One by one, closer and closer to the engine compartment, they exploded.

From outside, the Eclipse III visibly rocked. A line of fire cracked and burned down the hull of the Super Star Destroyer, running down toward the engine compartment. The ten or so engine nozzles each burst, taking down a good portion of the aft section of the ship. Gases and electricity spat and arched respectively over the aft of the vessel, crewmen and machinery spilling out and sucking vacuum.

The cheering of the Allied Forces could be heard over the Vhas’karath’s comm. The Eclipse III was not going to leave this fight.

With a sudden growl of pleasure, Baron Thokkarh’s Shintahr reported on the situation, "Milord, the largest Imperial ship has faced a crippling blow. However the Terrans are being pulverized by their black fighters, as are their capital ships albeit at a slower rate."

"Show me."

On the dais in front of the Baron’s command throne, an amber-tinted three-dimensional visual display projected the image of the Eclipse III, minus her massive Sublight Drive engines.

His Shintahr continued, "The other Star Destroyers are moving in to protect that damaged area. The Death Ship is still a formidable battle station now, if nothing else now. The Imperial forces are facing a running death now, milord, if our forces were to—" The First Officer caught his own tongue. He would not propose betrayal.

But the Baron would.

"If our forces were to... join the Terrans against these oppressors, the Empire would be overcome with gatagak’vu, and the Terran would be able to defend successfully their Nak’tara. But your lordship, do you really order betrayal?"

"In the Eyes of Sivar, betrayal is our only option. We have allowed these Terrans of a different coat to take advantage of us, to use us for their own glories. We are... pawns. We will trick them as our ancestors tricked the Shata and Utara for the secret of Jump Drive." Thokkarh growled with an insatiable rage. "Order our forces to attack all Imperial vessels, and move to defend..." he paused, the words he would next speak being difficult ones, "move to defend the Terrans. Only they can help us now."

SSD ECLIPSE III; LEVEL 214, A SECTION
1055 HOURS (CST)

"Marines!" Lt. Colonel Dixon exclaimed at his men. "By the numbers, jarheads! Prepare to deploy!"

"Sir!" responded Gunny Hardison, Dixon’s senior NCO. "You heard the man, ladies. Positions for boarding! Standard dispersal pattern! Move! Move! Move!"

Fifty Confederate Marines, one rough-looking humanoid, a big furry seven-foot Wookiee, three-Noghri honor guard, and a short woman brandishing an energy sword of purple luminance ran through the dark, foreboding corridor of the Eclipse III’s Level 214, A Section. The team blasted and cut down whoever and whatever got in their way. They romped through the grungy looking corridor, contrasting with the luxurious upper levels meant for senior staff. 

Meanwhile, Dixon argued with the rough-looking smuggler and her lightsaber-brandishing daughter. "Hey, you listen up, Warrior Princess! This is a Marine Operation and I’m the OIC!" He looked around. "Just who the hell put this little girl in charge?"

Chewbacca took a step forward and growled threateningly a bit, while Han moved in to quickly translate, "My, ah, tick-magnet of a friend here is right. You see any other Jedi around here? Do you?"

"Jedi, schmedi. Sounds like a fucking fungus." Dixon spat, nearly hitting Han’s boot. "We’ve been running our asses off for almost an hour, and what has it gotten us?"

"A lot closer to the main superlaser batteries, I can tell you that much!" Jaina yelled behind her. "Do you feel that? The closer we get the more stale and hotter the air gets."

Chewie let out a woeful moan.

"I know, Chewie. I’m ready." Jaina stopped her running, leaving the whole cadre standing ready on an access bridge between sections. Behind the cadre, the blast door they just went through closed behind them all.

Han whistled. "Great, sweetness. Now we’re sitting Tauntauns right here."

"Well, do you hear that?" Jaina asked.

The whole team stopped. The only sounds audible to them were the hum of the ship’s fusion reactor, several hundred levels below the bridge.

"What the Force! Marines, turn around and get ready for that door to open! A full battalion of Darktroopers is about to flood in! My father, General Chewbacca, and myself are gonna protect us against this door." Jaina pointed to the door they meant to go through as the Marines began to recheck their weaponry and assemble themselves into a defensive posture.

Han whispered to his daughter. "And what’s heading through that door?"

"Trouble. Big trouble." The Jedi Apprentice ignited her lightsaber, shaking her hair out of her way and moving into a defensive posture herself.

Suddenly, with a wrenching squeal, both blast doors opened up. The one the Marines faced spilt out black-armored, red-embroidered Darktroopers that packed wicked-looking BlasTech blaster rifles. Immediately the Marines opened fire with their M-58A1 Laser Assault Rifles, M-47 semiauto laser guns, and SMGs, skillfully mowing them down in tight, controlled bursts.

As for the door that Jaina and her family were to defend against, nothing spilt out just yet. Instead, the door tore open to reveal three fully imposing crimson-robed Imperial Royal Guardsmen—masters of the Martial Art of echinra, Jaina had heard—ready with their two-meter force pikes in hand.

The three were silent, and moved slowly away to reveal the rest of the corridor. It was then that three Destroyer Droids rolled out, moving quickly to plot themselves down and open as their laser cannons propped out. There was a flicker in the air as their bubble shields activated.

"Oh... shit..." Jaina muttered.

"Shit?"

Quickly, the Destroyer Droids began firing off their automatic cannons.

Each bolt was quickly deflected by perfectly-timed swings of Jaina’s lightsaber, while Han and Chewie fired their energy weapons towards the droids from any cover they could find. The shots were harmless against the shield-protected machines.

"This is gonna get us nowhere!" Han yelled over the sounds of energy blasts and high-pitched screams.

"Draw their fire! Cover me!" Jaina hollered, the other two moved up next to her, reinforcing their efforts.

Jaina took two steps then concentrated, for one second she paused then she somersaulted right over the three droids while her father and her hairy friend drew their opponents’ fire. Landing behind them, the machines had no time to pivot to their rears before Jaina sliced each of their cannons off in one sweep.

Jaina followed through on the sweep, pivoting around, facing the three Royal Guardsmen. Within another second, the three had their blasters drawn out from under their thick robes and point-blank straight at her skull.

"Not even a Jedi Master can get out of this one, little girl," one of the three announced eerily.

Without warning, three green pulses of hot energy lanced from Chewie’s bowcaster toward the three.

The trio disappeared, washing away from everyone’s vision, while the pulses rushed right by.

Suddenly a red flare flashed at Jaina’s back, casting her down to the ground. Two other shocks from the invisible Guardsmen’s force pikes had her crawling.

"Can’t move... can’t concentrate," the girl gasped. The force pikes were sucking the energy out of her, and replacing it with pain.

Han’s eyes filled with determined anger. "Chewie," he ordered, "Set your bowcaster on wide spread!"

A whine filled the air, and a green wave flashed over Solo’s daughter. In the energy mist, the three Royal Guardsmen were stunned to the deck plate. In their weakened states, Han went the extra mile by taking them out personally. The three went to the ground with not even a groan.

"No one pikes my daughter when she is down."

The two ran over, stepping over the bodies, and picked Jaina up by her shoulders. "Come on, we’re clear and open. Let’s move!" The whole team began running across the bridge into B Section.

ROGUE SQUADRON, NEAR EARTH
1130 HOURS (CST)

"General Antilles here again," Commander Corran Horn heard Wedge speak over his comm. "The Imp ships are starting to wear down and these Kilrathi ships seem to be on our side now... although they appear not to be holding any communication with us as of yet." 

Wedge pulled his X-wing into a point defense on the stern of the Defiance, with several squadrons of other X-wings, flanking Y-wings, several B-wings, numerous A-wings, a handful of K-wings, and a lingering squadron of exhausted and damaged E-wings.

Joining the remaining entirety of the Defiance wing was an equally exhausted portion of the Midway support wing—sixteen Panthers, thirteen Devastators, seventeen Tigersharks, twenty-one Wasps, and eight Piranhas.

"Lt. Talvert here, adding support to the Defiance."

"Thanks, Confederate, it looks like the SD fighters are dwindling to about sixty ships and counting," Wedge responded.

"You got that right, sir. Plus these Cats seem to have gone sour on their friends... good for us."

"I copy on that one. Where’s the rest of the Midway’s three fighter wings?"

Stiletto sighed over the comm. "Half of them are either dead or in the Recovery Bay getting repairs. We had a shakedown compliment of fighters anyway, but we have the bulk of our fighters in BARCAP point defense of her."

"Good, I don’t want the Midway left high and dry." Antilles paused. "Let’s get back to business now, pilots. You people take out the remaining Shadow Droids while my team and the bombers will go after the lighter capital vessels. Break and attack!"

On Wedges lead, the remaining X-wings broke and moved off towards one of the last Imperial Star Destroyers and the lingering Wasps followed after slowly. Quickly, the Wasps swarmed close to the wedge-shaped monster, making long strides over the destruction of her weapon arrays. Several Kilrathi Darkets had already been concentrating on her shield generators earlier before the group had arrived.

"Ah, fuck! Fuck the universe and fuck me, too!" one Wasp pilot yelled over his channel to the universe at large, as a pelting from a turbolaser battery ripped off both his engines. However, that didn’t stop the pilot from firing his energy weapons until he collided into the command section of the starship.

"In honor of that guy, at the next stop we’ll have a round of pale ale on me!" Captain Tycho Celchu offered over the channel. 

"Gavin, how are you doing at your end, kid?" Commander Horn asked a moment later, concerned.

Lt. Gavin Darklighter’s X-wing—a new one he had gotten from the Defiance, where Major Richthofen had taken him after he’d ejected—didn’t even resemble the standard model anymore. Two S-foil wings had been clipped off, one of his engines was out and shooting flame and sparks, and his front fuselage was scorched. "Not so hot, buddy... Oh damn, my shields are conked out, my armor has gone to the Sarlacc Pit and back, and... I’ve got a hull breach. Oh... oh damn, oh da—"

"Kid! Gavin!" Wedge cried out.

The kid’s scorched X-wing exploded as it took another hit from a passing Shadow Droid. His scream would never be heard; his communications array had gone to slag beforehand.

Out with a bang... just like his brother; just like Biggs.

Corran punched his throttle. "That’s it," choking back tears, he spoke "let’s finish this."

SSD ECLIPSE III; EMPEROR’S THRONE ROOM
1140 HOURS (CST)

Blair swung his lightsaber sharply towards the Emperor, but in reaction the Sith Lord jumped and swiftly kicked him in the face. With one side of his energy blade toward Luke, Palpatine thrust toward the Jedi Master, though only to be knocked curtly off.

"Insolence... if you two only knew the scope of what I am offering you... if only you weren’t blinded by arrogance..."

Drawing upon strength and intuition he never knew he had, Blair flipped himself up off the ground, and somersaulted upon the Emperor, deftly crashing his lightsaber down upon him. It was a move only to be blocked by the Palpatine’s left energy blade. The other blade was arced and blazed down on Luke, who rolled behind the Emperor.

"Fools... both of you!"

Palpatine raised an open hand at Blair, Force-Shoving him with his influence into a dark corner while he took his left lightsaber and struck it toward Luke. Skywalker blocked it, while the readjusted Blair parried his opponent’s right blade.

Luke swung his lightsaber towards the Emperor, but in reaction he jumped and swiftly kicked him in the face. Lunging and twisting, Palpatine regained the offensive and counterattacked, using both ends of his lightsaber in an effort to cut Blair’s legs out from under him. With his other blade toward Luke...

SSD ECLIPSE III; LEVEL 490, D SECTION
1200 HOURS (CST)

"Here it is, I think," Han announced, entered the large cavern of power generators and worker droids. Inside the section it was blazingly hot, not unlike Tatooine’s Dune Sea. Several layers of pipes and runners surrounded by thick red coils took up most of the area, contrasted only by an overseeing ten meter-wide catwalk that the cadre stood on now.

Dixon moved up toward Han, straightening his helmet. "This has to be it. I ain’t wasting any more time."

Jaina looked around, feeling something nagging in the back of her mind. This is all too easy. "Let’s move. Lieutenant Colonel Dixon, from your readings, when should this superlaser go off?"

Tapping his headset, Dixon paused, but the answered, "Chatter on the Imperial Network seems to indicate that this sucker has an hour until Earth becomes a ball of mush."

Han was dripping with cynicism. "Then look here, hotshot, we are getting off this moisture farm in half an hour!"

"Half an hour it is sir, right away, sir." Dixon addressed the rest of the Marines, "Marines! Let’s set up! Get the charges lined across the pipes, and some down the coils."

"Here, Dixon," Han started running with the troops. "Let me help you people. I’ve blown more than my share of power plants in my day."

As they all ran, the Marines’ armor and boots clicked and clacked. "This is unusual, General. I would expect such a volatile part of the ship to be under supervision, wouldn’t you?"

The smuggler-turned-hero huffed and puffed. He was not in for this sort of activity, especially after the kilometers they already spent getting here. "Well, after the Empire took a downward spiral, getting recruits became one of their secondary problems. Skeleton crews were the most any ship would usually have, and sometimes less. The Empire would make up for it..."

Above the running group, an automated laser turret ran on a set of rails.

"... By building better worker droids and automating more and more of their systems."

Suddenly a blinding frenzy of light rained upon them, turning the metal catwalk beneath them into slag.

"Father!" Jaina had not run alongside with the group, instead she and Chewie had chosen to guard the entranceway. She pulled hard on the Wookiee’s shoulder fur. "Blast that turret to pieces!"

When Jaina looked again at the group, Han and Dixon were already laying on the ground writhing in pain. Solo was caressing his leg, while Dixon was not moving at all.

Jaina looked back at Chewie, who was growling and pointing up to the laser turret.

Jaina, understanding only a bit of his language, accordingly only understood a bit what he said. "Damn—it’s shielded."

Dixon’s ExO, Major Valtane, spoke, "What do we do? Evading those shielded turrets and ship security and setting up these explosives is gonna be next to fucking impossible."

Jaina considered a moment; silent while the others rushed to get Han and Dixon. "That’s why we are leaving. Have them take these two and order everyone to get back to the ship."

A tear streamed down Jaina’s nose. I tried, Uncle Luke. I tried. You’re on your own now...

SSD ECLIPSE III; EMPEROR’S THRONE ROOM
1215 HOURS (CST)

Lightsabers scraped, grated, and crackled against each other, and the throne room echoed with their fury.

Again, Blair was thrown down from an unexpected Force Shove by Palpatine, rolling to exert the momentum of the shove. His lightsaber charged up again and back on his feet, within the same second he swung down hard upon the Emperor’s blade, controlling his frustration.

"Yes... you can feel the hatred within you, can you not, Blair?" the Emperor prodded.

"I know I don’t have to tell you not to listen to him, Chris," Luke said. "Don’t lose your battle to the Dark Side as he has." Luke’s hooded cloak had been cast off finally minutes ago, giving way to his black jumpsuit and sweat-drenched body. A deep, cauterized cut raggedly tempered his right arm, a grazing from the edge of Palpatine’s near-missing swing earlier.

Blair had been doing well, considering his first time in a true duel. His form had been swift, and fast, just what had been needed facing a dual-bladed lightsaber. Although he had taken a number of scrapes and bruises in the past hour of fighting, Blair was not letting up by any means.

And still the crackles and pops of four energy blades colliding echoed on in the throne room.

The battle wore on, and for a time it was fought evenly. Finally, Blair opened up a spot for Luke. With a hacking curve, Blair caught the Emperor’s blade and spiraled it around for a moment, catching his attention. Luke took the diversion, moving into the Emperor’s close quarters and brought his own lightsaber over and down with such force that he severed the dual-bladed lightsaber in two.

As his blade-end facing Luke extinguished, Skywalker took the further move and lopped the Emperor’s hand off at the wrist.

"Curse you, Skywalker!" Palpatine reeled back and howled in extreme pain, dropping down in front of the steps to the viewports showing the battle outside.

"Now how does it feel, your majesty?" Luke commented wryly, stepping over him in an imposing manner. Blair extinguished his blade, and stepped behind Luke. "You shall now give the order to surrender this ship, and you yourself shall be taken into the custody of the New Republic, where you will be put on trial for your crimes against the galaxy. Both galaxies."

"Curse you... both of you! But... no... a curse is not necessary..." The beaten Emperor pressed his good wrist against his cheek, inconspicuously keying the ship-wide comm channel. He held Luke’s gaze as he spoke, giving a simple order, "You may fire when ready, Commander."

"No!" Luke screamed in shock. But abruptly Blair pushed him away, and with his other hand he reached to draw his C-244 Pistol sidearm.

A magnetically-guided 2.3mm slug ended its short journey into the Emperor’s forehead. Immediately, purple and blue lightning arched out from the puncture wound, cursing up and down his vibrating body. With an intense explosion of force, without heat, a ball of dark blue light expanded and roared with the death cry of the Emperor himself. As Luke knew from witnessing Joruus C’baoth’s and the Emperor’s first death, the sudden release of all the pent up energies of a Dark Jedi was not an explosion to be trifled with.

Skywalker and Blair were thrown backwards well across the chamber, the two of them sent tumbling down the stairs below the dais and nearly all the way to the double doors of the throne room’s lift.

The explosion receded. The only thing left was the black, smoking ashes of the Emperor scattered and strewn near the twisted viewports of his throne room.

Blair and Luke lay next to each other across the room. "Foresee that... you sick, evil son of a bitch," Blair rasped, steadily recovering.

At that very moment, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, a million souls at last found their peace.

TC-10 HERCULES MARINE LC CDS-934; COCKPIT
1215 HOURS (CST)

"We have cleared the close-quarters of the ship, and now we’re heading back to the Midway," Jaina announced with fear. The Marines and Chewie were busy tending to Dixon and her father, while she piloted the ship the best she could while remotely controlling the single laser turret of the vessel, warding off any incoming fighters.

When she cleared the LC of the immediate battle zone, she put the ship on autopilot and ordered a small escort from the New Republican fighters in the area. Immediately, a full squadron of E-wings formed up on the LC.

Over thirty thousand kilometers away, swarms of Confederate, Landreich, Border Worlder, and Kilrathi capital ships battered relentlessly upon the shields of the Eclipse III with the Defiance and the Midway positioned directly between Earth and the superlaser array of the mighty death-ship.

"I guess if we’re going straight to Sith, then we’re going all the way," Jaina whispered to herself.

I tried Uncle Luke. I tried...

But I failed.

Even on the LC’s rudimentary sensor readings, a gradual energy spike grew and grew in the proximity of the SSD Eclipse III’s port. Outside, the crimson focusing gem of the mighty behemoth began to glow with a dark raging fury.

In the back of the ship, Marines surgeons yelled at one another in hopes of saving the lives of the badly burned Han Solo and Lt. Col. Dixon.

"We gotta get him to a medic, god damn it!" shouted Chief Warrant Officer DeSnell.

But those yells were nothing to Jaina now. All she could feel through the Force were the faint screams of doom from the Terrans of Earth, witnessing a red light growing furiously intense exponentially. Witnessing their last moments before death.

I failed you, Uncle. I failed Earth. It’s my entire fault...

Tears and sobs poured from Jaina Solo’s eyes, while the lives of those on Earth and her father hung in the balance.

SSD ECLIPSE III; EMPEROR’S THRONE ROOM
1217 HOURS (CST)

"Jesus Christ!" Luke shouted finally, after the two stopped aching and wheezing.

The Commodore shook his head at his friend and checked his watch. "We fought the Emperor for two hours. It felt like days."

"Yes... two hours..." Luke said, nearly exhausted. "I’m curious, however... there’s got to be a dozen ways to interpret this, but if I was the Chosen One as Palpatine said, I’d tend to think it was my duty to strike down Palpatine once and for all. And yet..."

"And yet I was the one to kill him." Blair grunted. It wasn’t dogfighting in the cockpit, but he knew he did better than average. "You don’t suppose that means that I’m really the Ch—"

"We can figure it out later, Chris." Luke stretched out with the Force yet again. "The superlaser on this vessel is nearly ready for discharge."

Blair tried to concentrate, and even through his weak spell he could sense something. "Confed Marines have been here; probably set up some antimatter charges on the superlaser bank. Terrans don’t just sit back while our home planet waits to be cracked open."

"Well when the superlaser hits the breaking point, those charges will probably go off. Either way, I don’t like this place... not that I ever liked it before."

Luke got up and staggered over to a heating portal, lined with computer displays. Blair lurched after him, looking over is shoulder while he tapped a few buttons.

A bitmap display of a path from the heating portal to the nearest hangar bay was shown. "If we jump down this portal, one of the connecting air vents will suck us in the general direction to Hangar Seventy-Three. From there we can commandeer a TIE Phantom, cloak her and rip a path straight out of here." Luke smiled. "Easier than Beggar’s Canyon."

"Sound pretty easy. Except for those parts about ‘jumping down the portal,’ ‘getting sucked into an air vent,’ and ‘commandeering a TIE,’ it all sounds about right," Blair commented cynically.

Luke glared at him. "Well, maybe it doesn’t have to be a TIE, but it’s either that or walk out of this room facing a couple thousand Darktroopers, not to mention—"

"Us?" a reverberating voice echoed behind them.

The two automatically spun around, both of their lightsabers energized.

A triad of Imperial Royal Guardsmen stood in front of them, their force pikes drawn and charged.

"You two have nowhere to go," one of them spoke but they couldn’t specify which one. "Do you honestly think that you can do what you plan? You have over-exhausted your powers, and getting off this ship now is impossible. Even if you two jumped, you would be sucked down toward the fusion core. Escape is impossible."

Blair stepped back while speaking, with Luke following. "Never underestimate the power of the Light Side."

With that, the two back-flipped down into the far-glowing maw.

MARINE LC CDS-934; COCKPIT
1219 HOURS (CST)

"We are reading a release point on that superlaser; twenty seconds!" one of the Marine pilots shouted.

"All ships are moving into the line of fire," the Ops Officer commented.

Outside, as the Eclipse III moved herself slowly in line with Earth, all the capital ships lined themselves up accordingly in hopes of deadening the blow about to be stuck upon the Terran homeworld.

Jaina swung around in her central command chair, looking at the Marines for answers. "Let’s not give them the chance to sacrifice themselves. When are those detonators going to do their job?"

"If the readings are correct, then they should have went off several seconds ago."

"Well we didn’t exactly get the job done. We only set up ten charges tops," Jaina whispered. "Then... my failure is complete."

"Wait—look!"

Outside, the crimson red eye of the superlaser’s port grew even more intense. Instead of a beam of destruction lancing out through the capital ships and straight into Earth, the light of the eye pierced right back up the spine of the dark vessel. With a ripple of explosions following up the spine in succession, several of the thousands of lights on the ship winked out.

Now on the port and starboard sides of the ship even more explosions occurred, blowing out each hangar bay one by one. Like rats from a sinking ship, fighters and shuttles screamed out of the remaining bays, forgoing Flight Control clearance.

Suddenly, with a blinding white light the command section of the ship burst apart into nothingness. From the wound, electrical currents arched over the entire ship, and then the fusion reactor became unstable, splitting the skeletal remains of the beaten ship into two halves apart from the spine.

The fusion explosion sent the halves spinning at super speed into the Earth, heating upon atmospheric re-entry, and then breaking through. No defense weapons would fire upon the remains, which would cause a rain of hot metal upon the land instead of a solid, easily recoverable crash site. The fire-trailing, skeletal wreckage of the Super Star Destroyer could be seen plunging into the atmosphere of Earth by all of the assembled fleet still engaged in the Second Battle of Terra. Unceremoniously, the great black vessel careened into the Southern Hemisphere at terminal velocity and slammed into the Australian coast. It was between Mt. Kosciusko and the Bass Strait that it hit, instantly devastating Melbourne, Geelong, and Ballarat with the force of a small asteroid.

TCS VALLEY FORGE; BRIDGE
1229 HOURS (CST)

Captain Geoffory Armstrong watched with grim satisfaction from his chair as the explosive impact of the Eclipse III died down off the Australian coast, great plumes of smoke and soot rising up into the lower atmosphere obscuring the impact site. The Imperials’ second Super Star Destroyer was down, but it came at the cost of potentially several hundred thousand lives on the surface.

Casualties of war...

A look at his bridge staff revealed them hard at work, his XO, Lt. Commander Schaefer coordinating with tactical, and Lt. Ishii manning her defense console against the continuing scourge of the Shadow Droids and other craft. Thankfully the Kilrathi threat was gone... in fact, the Kilrathi formerly allied with the Third Imperium were now directing the entirety of their efforts against the Imperial Fleet.

"The Kilrathi are still not responding to our hails, sir," reported Lt. Amy St. Germain, the comm officer.

"Very well... they can have it their way, then. As long as they’re not attacking us anymore, we have no quarrel with them."

Six Imperial II-class Star Destroyers, a single Victory SD, a single Interdictor Cruiser, and a single Katana-class dreadnaught was all that was left of the Imperial Fleet, though it was their fighter complements that had Confed on the ropes in the Second Battle of Terra. Endless swarms of TIE Interceptors, TIE Bombers, TIE Advanced/Avengers, TIE Defenders, TIE Phantoms, TIE Robotics, Star Wings/Assault Gunboats, Missile Boats, and now the Shadow Droids—the gang was still all here.

Drumming his fingers on the armrests of his chair, he issued the order to join the Mistral Sea battle group with the battle-recommissioned TCS Victory per Space Marshal Voight’s orders from the McKinley.

ISD2 DEATH’S HEAD; BRIDGE
1235 HOURS (CST)

"Direct hit to the frigate’s sublight engines... one more to the—there she goes, sir." 

"Excellent." Aboard the Death’s Head, even after Güthrig watched with minor satisfaction the smoldering wreckage of the Eclipse III continuing to devastate a small continent on the Terran homeworld’s Southern Hemisphere, he bore witness to the Rebels’ Nebulon-B Escort Frigate Liberator going up in an incandescent haze under relentless turbolaser battery pounding. It wouldn’t quite be the end of the Eclipse III, though, as tsunamis were already visible from space, rushing toward Pacific shores at nearly a thousand miles per hour. “Damn,” he said quietly. Well, at least Palpatine’s foolishness has produced some results. And he has paid for it... for the fourth time. “Helm! Set a course for the galactic rim,” he said loudly, before dropping back to a whisper, “This time, we move slowly. We’ll build on loyalty within, and defend with fear without. This time, we’ll do this right.  But for now...” He paused as he observed the chaotic disarray of the scattered Confederation fleets. “Now, we’ll make them pay for their victory. Admiral Tschel, coordinate fire between all of our ships.  Destroy the Baron’s turbolaser-equipped ships. All TIE Defenders, Phantoms, and Interceptors are to fall back and defend our ships. Gunboats and Missile Boats are to take out the Confederation flagship, and recall the remaining Shadow Droids to our hangars. I want the Midway obliterated.”

Several seconds later, Tschel turned back to the Grand Admiral, already clad in his respective pearly white uniform. “Sir, we are ready to fire.” Güthrig only nodded. Tschel smiled as he gave the order to fire, but the smile never reached his eyes. For he knew they were already defeated.

For a moment, six battered Imperial II Star Destroyers, a single Victory Star Destroyer, and a Katana dreadnaught sat motionless among a sea of debris. Then, in an instant, a wave of green and crackling blue energy lanced into the ten remaining Kilrathi T-laser Destroyers. The vessels shattered in an instant. Even the debris was wiped away by the furious energies. The hulking behemoths quickly picked off most of the Kilrathi corvettes, and the fighters drove the rest of them off.

Güthrig hummed in thought as Confederation fleet was slow to re-deploy their battle formations. “Tschel, we have an opportunity, and I’d like your opinion on it.” Tschel almost gasped in surprise. It was rare in the Empire for a superior officer to ask the opinion of their subordinates. “We have several minutes until the Confederation forces can regroup.  We can either retreat now, or we can take the opportunity to maim our foes horribly.”

Tschel was nervous, and answered tenuously. “Well, sir, I lean toward the latter. But, discretion may be the better part of valor.”

Güthrig nodded slowly. “I agree with you. But, we must make sure our new enemies cannot immediately afford to pursue us. Lieutenant Frejena, have all ships concentrate their firepower on the Confederation carriers. Tschel, inform me when we are ready to enter hyperspace.”

NRS DEFIANCE; BRIDGE
1238 HOURS (CST)

"No... survivors, sir."

Admiral Ackbar balled both fists on his swiveling command chair as he watched the last flicker of the explosion that had engulfed the Liberator give out. The Liberator had been the only other capship in the New Republic’s task force to make it through the black hole in the Katrel System of their galaxy to arrive here. Just like that, over nine hundred men and women of the New Republic were gone, their lives lost in an alien galaxy whose inhabitants they did not know but chose to fight for nonetheless.

Admiral Drayson’s son had been commanding that Nebulon-B Escort Frigate, a longtime associate and friend of Ackbar’s. That he would have to face his father and give the man the news...

"Intensify firepower on that Star Destroyer," he ordered, the authority creeping back into his persona.

TCS ST. HELENS; BRIDGE
1240 HOURS (CST)

Fleet Admiral Eisen watched in horror as a third Concordia-class carrier detonated under the fire of the Imperial Fleet. A quartet of Tallahassee-class cruisers, led by the Plunkett-class TCS Patton, swept past the St. Helens in an attempt to assault the Star Destroyers and draw their fire away from the carriers. Less than twenty seconds later, the Patton finally succumbed to the same fiery death as its four wards.

Things weren’t going well. Despite the destruction of the Eclipse III, Confed was still at a distinct tactical disadvantage. Most of ConFleet that had positioned itself directly in front of the Eclipse to stop the superlaser blast, so when the Eclipse exploded, there was a mad scramble to get out of the way. Several ships never made it, and even the TCS Fujiyama, one of several Vesuvius-class supercarriers (the only Confed ships to boast full platolum armor) rushed into production during the Cynium crisis to even the odds in the event Confed didn’t get there first, was still reeling from a sideswipe of the city-sized ruins, and would likely spend months in drydock for repairs. Now, while the Confed fleet was scrambling to reform their lines, the Imperials were taking the opportunity to do the most possible damage.

Eisen balled a fist at his side. "Damn..."

TCS MIDWAY; BRIDGE
1245 HOURS (CST)


A massive explosion announced the final collapse of the shields, and gunships began picking off her turreted lasers. Ahead, four Missile Boats lined up for a run against the bridge. We’re dead, Captain Wilford thought. All the Midway’s fighters were tied up with the TIEs. The ’Boats dove toward the prominent bridge, firing their lasers to soften it up, but as they gained a target lock, four missiles came out of nowhere and erased them from the universe.

“Where the hell did those come from?” Wilford demanded. A second later, four Bloodfang IIs raced past the bridge.

“Sir, we’re receiving a transmission,” the comm officer reported.

Moments later, the holographic image of Admiral Jamison appeared. He was positively beaming when his image coalesced. “We’re back, and I hope you don’t mind that we picked up some new friends on the way.”  He paused while Ensign Jarvis announced new contacts behind the Zephyr. “Captain Wilford, I present to you the First Fleet of the Kilrathi Assembly of Clans.”

“Sir,” Jarvis reported, “I’m getting IFF readings on the Kilrathi vessels. Four Fralthi II cruisers, eight heavy destroyers, twelve light destroyers, twenty-four corvettes, one fleet carrier, a Thrakhra-class ConCom, and—what the hell... the computer’s identifying the lead vessel as a Kla’meq-class battlecruiser—”

“A what?” Wilford snapped.  “I thought those things were retired.”

“I guess not, sir... it’s the KIS Kla’meq itself.” Most of the bridge crew gasped or gave Jarvis a look of disbelief. It had been one of Clan Sho’lar’s greatest achievements; a capital ship that was essentially a scaled down version of a 22 kilometer Kilrathi Dreadnought, though one even more deadly.

TCS ST. HELENS; BRIDGE
1249 HOURS (CST)

Simultaneously, aboard the St. Helens, Commander Rollins let out a whoop of triumph. “Holy shit! Where’d the hell did Melek get his hands on that?”

He checked his console for a second, “Sir, the Kla’meq is hailing us.”

Eisen raised his eyebrows. “Well, put it through.”

The regal bearing of Prince Murragh materialized before him. “I apologize for the delay on behalf of the Provisional Council, Admiral. One of our destroyers suffered a jump drive failure, and we had to pick up the survivors. But, it seems we have arrived just in the nick of time,” he said, smiling. “If you will remove your fighters from the vicinity of these ‘Imperial’s’ lead cruiser, we shall demonstrate to them why they should not trifle with the Assembly of Clans.”

Only too happy to oblige, Eisen nodded to Rollins, who began recalling bombers from their less-than-successful assaults on the Imperial line.

“That shit kicking contest back in effect, sir?” Rollins asked, a wide grin on his pasty white face.

Eisen stifled a chuckle. “Oh, absolutely it is.”

KIS KLA’MEQ; FLAG BRIDGE
1250 HOURS (CST)

Aboard the 1,600-meter flagship of the Kilrathi Assembly’s First Fleet, Prince Murragh Cakg dai Nokhtak and Chancellor Melek nar Kiranka exchanged a glance. For years they had been at opposite ends of the Kilrathi Assembly—Melek championing his caretaker government and Murragh claiming himself as the rightful heir to the throne with his followers—neither one approving of the other but neither one openly opposing the other. Their acknowledged differing political sidings had been one of the foremost keys to the delicate balance of the Kilrathi Assembly of Clans’ infrastructure. Brought together now by the actions of the renegade Kilrathi Clans that had joined the Third Imperium, the two Kilrathi nobles smiled in silent anticipation as a low hum filled the dimly-lit flag bridge. The Confederation fighters had cleared from the Imperial fleet more rapidly than they had thought possible, and in a few seconds, the Imperials would find out why.

A weapons control officer turned and announced that the Z’ratmak Cannon was fully charged and locked onto the Death’s Head. “Fire,” Murragh commanded, anticipation in his voice.

“Yes, my lord.”

The hum quickly grew in volume and pitch, then a bright red pulse spat forth. It crossed the hundreds of kilometers between the two ships in an instant and slammed into the ISD2 Death’s Head’s bow. The huge Imperial II rocked back as six hundred meters of durasteel, weapons and crew disintegrated as everything before the Star Destroyer’s main hangar was obliterated by the powerful cannon. An instant later, more beams lanced out from behind the Imperial line, impaling the dreadnaught, Victory Star Destroyer, the ISD2 Spite, and the ISD2 Indomitable like insects in collector’s case, destroying them utterly.

Murragh turned to the sensors officer as the latter let out a startled curse. The young Third Fang’s breach of protocol angered him, and he demanded to know what was wrong. The officer quickly regained his discipline, and reported, “Sire, sensors are showing a dozen warships. Two are heavy carriers of an unknown class, 725 meters each. The others are approximately two and a half kilometers long, and are equipped with stealth systems. I can get no further readings from them.”

CENTURION 33-X
1255 HOURS (CST)

Aboard his Centurion fighter, the privateer known only as Brownhair let out a slow whistle of appreciation as the sleek black dreadnoughts slid past his New Machiapippian light carrier and the rest of the Gemini Relief Force. While even his scanners (modified far above the legal limit) couldn’t penetrate the things’ stealth systems that masked their IFF readings, at this range he could easily see the ships’ features. The huge dreadnoughts looked like a cross between a Vesuvius dreadnought/supercarrier, a Rigel-class stealth carrier, and a Plunkett-class artillery cruiser, with a heavy dose of steroids for good measure. In short, they looked like a Kilrathi’s worst nightmare. They literally bristled with guns all over, both turrets and stationary battery-type emplacements (like those of old sailing galleons of Earth’s ancient history).  Where the flight deck would have been, the maw of a gigantic cannon loomed ominously. A few still glowed weakly from their recent use. The bridge tower was centered on the midline, and the large ramscoops sat in dorsal and ventral armored fixtures to the rear.  The whole monster was driven by seven massive engines arrayed in a line across the aft, and set nearly a hundred meters within the hull with thick armor doors that could close in the event of an attack on the engines, similar to a Hakaga.

He shivered, though he wasn’t the least bit cold. How in the hell did Confed build those things without anyone knowing about it? he wondered silently. They weren’t even carriers, either. Oh, he was sure they had hangars and a decent fighter complement somewhere, but these things were primarily meant to get near something, anything, and take it out with shear firepower. It looked like they wouldn’t get the chance, though, as the Imperial Star Destroyers were pitching up sharply to retreat.

ISD2 DEATH’S HEAD; BRIDGE
1300 HOURS (CST)

Grand Admiral Güthrig had a death-grip on the arms of his command chair as the wounded ship maneuvered for its jump into hyperspace. Damage reports were still coming in.  Over seven thousand were reported dead, nearly a thousand were missing and presumed dead, and nearly half the survivors were injured.

He cursed silently. They had almost been ready to leave. In another minute, they would have retreated to hyperspace and to safety. But, as usual, something had to go wrong. Now, the Death’s Head was crippled, and his fleet was down by another three ships; one of them an invaluable Imperial II Star Destroyer. But, though hideously wounded in even our parting blow, the Empire still will not die here, he thought defiantly.

Güthrig finally mustered up a small, bitter smile as the stars stretched impossibly long, then vanished into the serene swirl of hyperspace. The fleet would regroup and rebuild. And, as the last Grand Admiral, he would see to it the Empire would one day finally reclaim its rightful place in the galaxy.

This galaxy would do. All in time.

TCS ST. HELENS; CONFERENCE ROOM
1305 HOURS (CST)

Fleet Admiral William Eisen stood looking out one of the massive viewports of the St. Helens’ conference room. His gaze fell upon the TCS Omega, one of the Confederation’s secret Black Ops projects meant to end the first Kilrathi War. He finally turned to Rear Admiral Jeffery Patterson, commander of the Omega Task Force. “We’ve reviewed what’s happened on our end.  So, would you mind telling us your story?”

The elder admiral stood and nodded his head to Eisen. “Well, as you may or may not know, the Omega Project was started in 2667. The goal was to build a dreadnought capable of taking on any Kilrathi ship in existence. Our final designs were what you see out there,” he said gesturing toward the viewport. “The Omegas were to do just about the same thing the Kilrathi Hakagas did to us: end the war in one swift overwhelming offensive.

“There was one major difference in our planning than that of our Kilrathi counterparts. We were sure that they were developing a dreadnought-supercarrier of their own. This allowed us to design a ship to overpower even them, but it also inspired us to equip our dreadnoughts with a full stealth suite and... and a new superweapon more powerful than anything ever conceived of before. You saw its lowest power setting out there today, and I believe you are familiar with the original oversized prototype weapon platform, Behemoth.” For a moment the other representatives, Space Marshal Voight, a tired Commodore Blair, Admiral Eisen, Captain Wilford, Admiral Keith of the UBW Navy, Rear Admiral Bondarevsky of the FRLN, Prince Murragh, Chancellor Melek, and Jedi Master Skywalker sat in stunned silence.

Patterson continued, “Ubarov and Tolwyn’s Behemoth was never actually intended to enter combat, even with a large fleet escort. The reason it was so poorly armed and armored was that it was retrofitted with armor, weapons, and combat shields after the fact to be used as a last ditch superweapon. Even then, Tolwyn knew that he needed a significant fleet escort to protect her,” he paused, giving the lost ship a quick moment of silence. “He still had no choice, though. We didn’t know about then-Brigadier General Taggart and Severin’s Temblor Bomb project, and the first Omega was projected to come on-line in eight months, at the time. That was a full four months past the projected final Kilrathi invasion, and the loss of the war. Oh, we’d have been able to strike back hard, maybe even win in the long run, but we’d never have recovered from the loss of Earth.”

“Even so, why was the project for this fleet of stealth planet killers not scrapped after the end of the war? After Kilrah?” Murragh asked with a hint of anger in his voice.

“Simple,” Patterson said. “We were never informed that the war ended.” He raised his hands to halt the flood of questions. “You have to understand, towards the very end of the war, Tolwyn gained full jurisdiction over the entire Omega program. It was he who controlled what information our distant outpost received, and when the war ended, he used his position at the head of the SRA to continue low funding of our project. We continued construction as if the war was still in full swing, because that’s what we thought. When he went under in ’73, and we lost all contact with ConFleet High Command, and with Confed in general, we had to assume the worst: that the Kilrathi had finally launched their final assault, Earth had fallen, and Confed was fractured and desperately fighting to stave off the inevitable.”

“ConFleet HQ wasn’t informed of any of this, Admiral,” Space Marshal Voight interjected.

Patterson went on, “Yes, well, we continued our work to finish the last four ships without Confed support, more or less determined to roll a path of destruction through the Kilrathi Empire that would completely destroy their war-making capability. For eight years, we were driven by the simple desire to hit the Empire and scorch every Kilrathi planet of life.” He quickly continued as the others began to react with horror. Even Melek’s eyes reflected a hidden terror. He was one of the few to have seen the Behemoth’s test firing on one of their small outpost-worlds. The entire planet had been vaporized, destroyed more utterly than even what the Temblor Bomb could have even dreamed of at Kilrah.  The thought of ten such weapons, undetectable, waxing planet’s indiscriminately sent a worse chill through him Kt’lan’s Prophecy of Sivar. For a few moments he imagined the fear of being on the receiving end of a war of genocide; the same feeling humanity had experiences for nearly forty years.

“Superweapons...” Between the two Death Stars, the prototype, the World Devastators, the Galaxy Gun, the Sun Crusher, the Eye of Palpatine, and the Darksaber, Luke had seen more than his share in his respective galaxy. “No good has ever come of them.” 

“Please! You must understand,” Patterson pleaded. “We thought everything we’d loved and fought for had been destroyed. Indeed, we thought that we may have been the last of humanity left.” He sighed as decades of tension seemed to leave his body, “And we were damned if we were going to let them get away with it. Damned if we gave them the opportunity to do it again,” he said, and looked at the Kilrathi representatives apologetically for what they’d almost done. 

Blair spoke up, “But still, how did you find out the truth?”

“Less than a week ago, the Lexington and Akagi finally returned—”

“The Lexington?” Blair asked, wincing. He knew at once Patterson wasn’t referring to the former Concordia-class ship of Blair and Eisen’s that he’d been forced to torpedo during the Black Lance incident, but of the mysterious Lexington “heavy carrier” of the TCIS Terran Intelligence Agency that departed Goddard Transfer Station on 2669.011 to disappear into a then-previously uncharted Kilrathi jump point. Its mission: searching out and destroying Kilrathi forces, sector by sector. “That was a Project Omega ship?”

"Yes. It and the Akagi finally returned from Kilrathi deep space, along with nearly a quarter-million refugees. Captain Hill knew the facts about Project Omega, as well as the events of the last decade. On a hunch, he decided to check on the project to see if Tolwyn had given us the ‘Mushroom Treatment,’” Patterson said with a light smile. “His hunch paid off. The Lady Lex jumped into the system just as the Omega Task Force was preparing to jump out. We almost didn’t believe them, as several Black Lance survivors had made it to us and reinforced the bullshit Tolwyn had fed us. But, unlike the ‘Lancers,’ they had decades of transmissions for proof. So, here we are.”

There were several minutes of quiet discussion about what he’d told them. What he hadn’t told them was that he, as the director of the Omega project, was a member of the nearly defunct Belisarius Group, which was nearly destroyed when Tolwyn came to power in the short-lived SRA. Yes, that was something Patterson felt he should keep under tight wraps until the group’s strength could be evaluated. And if it turned out that it couldn’t be revived, he still had command of the most powerful ships in Confed, something he would be quite content with.

The meeting finally broke up, and everyone departed but Eisen, Patterson, and the two Kilrathi Assembly nobles. William eyed Jeffery for a minute before confronting him. “I know there are parts to that you didn’t tell us. There always are.  I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.” He pulled out an envelope marked Top Secret. “These are your orders.”

Patterson opened the envelope and perused the orders for a couple of minutes before responding. “A mission in Kilrathi space?” he finally asked incredulously.

Eisen nodded. “Yes. The Lexington and Akagi will be bringing the refugees back to Earth, but Confed wants the Omegas to accompany Murragh’s First Fleet to the border of Mantu space. They’ve been scuffling with the Kilrathi for over eighty years now. Confed wants your fleet to act as both a mediating third party to negotiate a peace settlement, and as a significant show of force to show we can defend ourselves.”

“The Assembly of Clans appreciates the assistance,” Chancellor Melek spoke, bowing his head.

“Assistance the Assembly will be happy to utilize... as soon as we escort these fugitives of our race led by Baron Caxki that sided with the Third Imperium,” Prince Murragh said, his deep voice low. “But... thank you.”

Rear Admiral Patterson stood, his gaze stopping on Admiral Eisen. “Well, then...”

“Good luck,” Eisen said, extending his hand.

Patterson shook it, a smile on his face. “Thank you, sir.”

BWS ZEPHYR; FLIGHT DECK
1325 HOURS (CST)

Major Frederick von Richthofen stood with the two surviving pilots of Talon Squadron, Lieutenants Stephani “Torch” Kozlowski and Seth “Anubis” Milhalik. He’d been informed that they would likely both receive promotions to the rank of captain for their part in the battle. It saddened him that so many of his friends had died in the past three days. It also angered him.

“Damn the Andorran Republic! Goddamn them to Hell!” he suddenly shouted aloud, startling his squadmates with his unusually emotional outburst. Normally, he had been the most reserved of the whole flight wing.

“What’s wrong?” Stephani asked in her unusually deep voice, fully knowing the answer.

Richthofen turned to her. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. That fucking excuse for a benevolent government promised support if we were ever attacked. But did they come? Did they send just one freaking ship to help out while we were getting out asses handed to us? No! They sat back and let us die out there just so they could watch Confed get its ass kicked. If they’d helped back at Alcor, just three or four Tempest-class carriers and a couple of Oceanus-class cruisers with full fighter complements of Ospreys and Intruders would have all but torn the Cats’n Imps to pieces! Not to mention what a Raptor wolfpack could have done. No, to hell with them. I heard it less than an hour ago. Due to the Republic of Andorra’s blatant violation of our defensive alliance, the Union of Border Worlds has officially broken off relations and nullified all treaties with the Republic. And if they try to make something of it, a very pissed off Border Worlds Navy, plus any Confed forces anywhere nearby, will kick their lily asses all the way back to Coventry. To quote President Kruger of the Free Republic of Landreich, ‘That was bullshit! From now on, the Andorran Republic can kiss our asses!’”

Richthofen paused, breathing heavily. “Anubis” began to say something, but Frederick held up a hand for him to wait. “Which brings us to our new assignment. We’re being assigned to the Caernaven patrol frigate BWS Condor as ‘Talon Flight.’ They’re giving us Vindicators, specially modified by Border Worlds R&D. We’ll be patrolling the Andorran border for any signs of hostile intention until further notice. If we find any, then the Zephyr, equipped with our best fighters,” his voice sank down to a whisper, “and a full squadron of new Vampire space superiority fighters, but that’s classified,” his voice returned to normal, “and the Mjollnir will jump in and give them a beating they’ll never forget.” He checked his old-style pocket watch and sighed. “Come on, our shuttle’s waiting.”

The three pilots took a last, long look at their former home before boarding the shuttle that would take them from it. There were far more important things to worry about now than the Andorrans.

KIS VHAS’KARATH; BERTH ONE
1345 HOURS (CST)

Shutting himself away without question from his Tho’reari and crew on the flag bridge, Thokkarh retired to his private den.

The Imperials had failed. His brethren in the Caxki, Ragitagha, and Kurutak clans had failed. With these failures, the hope of redemption for  Baron Thokkarh nar Caxki’s grand race was all but lost. His coup to turn on the Imperials, let the Terrans think they had switched sides, then combat the withered Terrans again when the Imperials were finished was hopeless with the arrival of the Kilrathi Assembly First Fleet—they were still renegades in their weak eyes and would be smiten. Soon the last pitiful remnants of the dead Kilrathi Empire would crumble as the Prophecy of Sivar would unfold itself, the nothingness of Kn’thrak embracing them all... Thokkarh would not be watching it happen idly. By all rights, the Kilrathi in the Assembly were Sa’guk—dead and disgraced to their hrai and the the Kilrathi Empire’s rightful place in the galaxy, though they yet live.

As one of the last Kilrathi refusing to bow to the Terran apes, there was but one option left to him: the ultimate expression of the warrior’s creed.

"Honor shall flow to the warrior who is true," he chanted, reciting the old codex, "to his hrai, to his comrades, to his people, and to himself, for only the warrior shall know the gods hereafter."

Thokkarh withdrew his zu’kara knife from the sheath buckled to his thigh. The blade’s ornate handle, made of the rare wood from the sacred forest of Kovokum, had been carved to fit Thokkarh’s paw.

"Forgive me, Sivar."

The Kal Thak’hra Baron of Clan Caxki bore his fangs and dragged the blade across his neck, his life’s liquid jetting down his regal plate armor freely. 

NRS DEFIANCE; OBSERVATION LOUNGE
1405 HOURS (CST)

Done conferring with Captain Wilford and Space Marshal Voight on the St. Helens, when Luke returned to the Defiance aboard the Lambda-class shuttle he and Blair had stolen from one of the Eclipse III’s hangars he found his sister, her husband, and their daughter were waiting for him.

"Yeah, and I was ju—" Jaina stopped herself, suddenly aware of a familiar presence approaching her in the back of her mind. She turned away from the viewports to shoot the familiar face a welcome sigh. "It’s Uncle Luke!"

Luke smiled at his niece. "I’m so proud of you, Jaina."

"Luke!" Leia burst, turning as Jaina tugged on her tunic. On impulse the two siblings ran toward each other, meeting and embracing halfway.

"Hey, kid," Han chimed in behind Leia, smirking at Luke. "Must have really done a number in there with that look-alike of yours. What happened in there, anyway? I’m guessing you’n him were chatting with Palpatine while the Midway’s Marines and Jaina and Chewie and I were tromping around like Jawas with our heads chopped off, right?"

"Long story... one I promise I’ll tell you when this is all over," Luke said, a very winded tone to his voice.

His sister winced, bringing a hand to his cheek. "But we did it, Luke... we won..." She was right, but it had come at the cost of the Liberator and a handful of good pilots—only meager losses next to the Terran Confederation’s.

"That’s right... but there’s just one thing left to do... one question we still don’t have an answer to." Leia nodded grimly. Han, Luke, Leia, and Jaina all looked to each other. A woeful Wookiee groan could be heard coming from the galley, Chewie. The question wasn’t hard to figure out. Not for any one of the men and women on the Defiance.

How would they get home?

Almost as if in answer to his rhetorical question, the Quarren comm officers voice came over the Defiances P.A. system, "Chief of State Organa Solo and Luke Skywalker to the bridge, please."

 

NRS DEFIANCE; BRIDGE
1710 HOURS (CST)

Luke got out of the bridge lift with Leia, Han, and Jaina, his eyes immediately widening upon seeing the familiar visage of Commodore Christopher Blair being holoprojected from the elevated primary comm console.

"Luke. Leia." Blair regarded the two with a nod. "Ive just received word from Exploratory Services superluminal scientists... while weve been busting our asses against the Imperial-Kilrathi fleet, theyve been busy in the Enyo System."

Luke cocked an eyebrow. His look-alikes mind was difficult to probe through the Force, but he didnt need it to see where the Commodore was going. "That was the system the Defiance and Liberator arrived in, was it not?"

"Thats right." Blair cleared his throat. "Not to get everybodys hopes up prematurely, but these scientists claim they can reopen the black hole that brought you from your galaxy to ours. Reinduction of antigravitons, they say is all it essentially takes..."

"Thats no ordinary black hole, Chris," Luke reminded him. Hed sensed the influence of Palpatines Sith magic behind its creation initially and still had no reason to think otherwise. "And even if these scientists can reopen it, will it be the same? We were told we not only traveled across galaxies, but across time itself..."

"Quite right, Master Luke," C-3PO intoned, strutting away from his pestering of Admiral Ackbar. Off to the side, R2-D2 beeped and clicked, adding his own input. "Ill repeat my earlier theory which General Solo so rudely interrupted: the star charts the Midway starship’s chief of stellar cartography was kind enough to show me show conclusively that, cross-referenced, our own elliptical galaxy, identified by your records as the Fornax Galaxy’ is quite different—and quite displaced, in observing our native galaxy’s redshift, though I cannot be certain by how much—from this Milky Way’ of yours. If memory serves, this galaxy—codenamed NGC 1365’—as it was observed in our galaxy, had a significantly shorter redshift from ours... a difference of some five million light years to its redshift in the present. Going on the theoretical basis that the universe is constantly expanding and galaxies are pushed outward, increasing he redshift between galaxies, it is as if my colleagues and I have traveled not only across galaxies, but across time itself—to the future. Our future. But then again this is—"

"The Commodore knows, Goldenrod," Han cut the protocol droid off once again, giving something akin to a growl.

"I do declare... General Solo, after all these years, you still take some twisted pleasure in never letting me finish a sentence."

"I let you finish that one, didn’t I?"

"Well, yes, but"

"Luke, youre right," Blair continued. "Even if the black hole can be reopened, there is no way to know for sure if the opposite end hasnt shifted—and even if it hasnt shifted, you might end up a hundred years into your galaxys past or future. Or you might not reach your galaxy at all—theres more than a couple theories out there that would support that. And whos to say whatever Sith magic our friend Palpatine put into maintaining the black holes wormhole properties is still in place?"

"Let me get this straight..." Luke exchanged a glance with his sister, then looked back to the holoprojection of his look-alike. "Youre saying we have a chance to go home?"

Blair mustered a timid smile. "Thats right. A chance."

Luke nodded. He could feel the unanimous, joint feeling of approval radiating from the Mon Calamari and Quarren crew, as well as from Leia, Jaina, and Han. He spoke without hesitation, "Then its a chance well take, Chris. How soon can we leave?"

"Sir," Threepio spoke up. "I must say, the odds of us surviving another trip into a black hole are ninety-nine million, three h—"

"Never tell me the odds," Luke said, a wry, very Han-like grin on his face. 

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