Star Wars 0027 - Part I - Renaissance of War - Randall J. Morrison
Star Wars 0027 - Part I - Renaissance of War
Randall J. Morrison
A long time ago, in a
galaxy far,
far away . . .
Star Wars 0027
Part I
Renaissance of War
With the end of the Galactic Civil
War, the Rebellion’s spawning of the New Republic has changed methods of
widespread Imperial rule to a free galactic government. Imperial
remnanats fight on under the autocratic control of the Supreme Prophet of
the Dark Side, Militiades.
Under his rule, the Galactic Empire has been acting upon their plan to
take control of the galaxy once again. The Imperial colonization fleet,
led by Grand Admiral Forde Terrell, is taking each and every planet by
force and placing it under Imperial control and possession.
The New Republic’s defense has grown and divided itself into thirty
separate fleets. Each fleet has a Rebel base planted on a vital planet
throughout various star systems in the galaxy. The Empire’s next
colonization target is Mon Calamari; but little do they know, the Rebel
fleet number 0027 has a base built on this exact location. This clash
between the Republic and the Empire could make the Empire stronger yet,
or end any threat they pose to a peaceful galaxy forever . . .
The
cold vacuum in the breach of space was far more calming from the balcony
of a foresthouse. Ilyssis Pico sat on the balcony staring at the stars
through a pair of macrobinoculars, while waiting to meet the man who
would become his master. Pico, for years, had wanted to be trained as a
Jedi Knight, but never had any contacts to find anyone to train under.
Plus, the planet he lived on was far too remote to be looked on as a
place of potential Jedi. It was Seanne, a lonely planet in the Paradise
System. It was once a beautiful system before the Ugor race turned it
into their personal dumping grounds.
Recently,
however, a fleet of the New Republic’s political representatives had
taken refuge on Seanne to hide from an Imperial brigade who pursued them
to the Outer Rim Territories. Pico offered the hospitality of his home to
three of them, while the rest sought shelter elsewhere on Seanne.
Fortunately for Pico, one of the guests spoke on behalf of a Jedi Knight
who was searching for an apprentice to tutor. It wasn’t long before a
date was scheduled for Ilyssis Pico to meet with the Jedi and become his
understudy.
The
thicket that surrounded Pico’s foresthouse rustled in the wind, giving
off a serene sound of the leaves brushing against one another. Pico put
his macrobinoculars aside and closed his eyes, listening harder. His ears
picked up the sound of a rodent, scurrying along the soil. Some birds
sang from the branches of the high conifers whose branches intertwined
with each other for great distances. The rustling of the bushes grew
louder and louder until Pico was sure it couldn’t have been just the
wind.
He shot up
from the balcony and looked down at the source of the noise. A cloaked
figure emerged from the bushes, his ensemble brushing lightly against the
thicket. Pico jumped over the balcony and landed gently on the sparsely
sprouting land.
The
cloaked Jedi approached Pico and lifted his hands to the hood of his garb
and pulled it up and over his head. His light brown hair and scanty
mustache and goatee were highlighted by a pleasant smile as he held out
his hand. “Good evening, Ilyssis,” he said. “My name is Dominic Artemius,
and under my instruction, you will learn to be a Jedi Knight.”
Pico
smiled and shook the hand of the Jedi excitedly and stretched out in
preparation for whatever plan Artemius had in order for him.
* * * *
“We now
have control of thirteen star systems and two-hundred and six planets in
total, sir,” came the voice of Supreme Commander Walt Green. Grand
Admiral Terrell, the officer in control of Imperial colonization spun
around to face him on the bridge of the Star Destroyer
Malevolent.
“Good
work, Commander. Send your B-4 squadron to meet up with B-5 on the third
satellite of Bakura,” said Terrell. The Commander nodded and turned to a
navigation computer, punched in an activation code, and followed his
orders.
Terrell
soon realized the importance of his mission. It was not until a short
time ago that the Galactic Empire was in control of the galaxy. It was
now his job to reclaim that state of Imperial power. If he failed, he
would be destroyed. Just like that. Although it was difficult to believe,
there was a man in higher power than the Grand Admiral. Several, in fact.
There were, of course, the four recently appointed Grand Moffs. But the
man in real power was Militiades, the Supreme Prophet of the Dark Side.
He took control of the Empire years after its fall from power. He would
be the man responsible for Terrell’s death, should he fail. It was not
wise to disappoint Militiades, as many had come to find out.
“Grand
Admiral, the Tyrant II, is boarding in a few minutes,” said
Admiral Pére, the officer who was usually in control of the
Malevolent. However, since Terrell boarded the ship, he was but a
mere second-in-command. The Admiral escorted Terrell to the main hangar
where the shuttle Tyrant II would be coming in.
“I assume
you have activated the tractor beam, Admiral,” said Terrell. “A man of
your responsibility would have taken care of that and therefore you do
not have to respond to what I asked.” The Admiral gave a somewhat obscure
look, but made sure Terrell didn’t see.
“Pardon my
curiousity, Grand Admiral, but who is it that is arriving on this
shuttle? Being a fairly insignificant Star Destroyer, we don’t receive
many guests. Is it a shipment?” questioned Pére.
Grand
Admiral Terrell smiled wryly. “Admiral Pére, the man who is boarding the
Malevolent today is most certainly not a shipment,” said Terrell,
“I am proud to be the one to introduce you to Militiades, who will be
boarding shortly.” And the hangar doors began to open.
* * * *
“Welcome
to the Alliance, General Sienar!” spoke the voice of Admiral Torgon the
Hutt. “After hearing your accomplishments in spacecraft design for the
Empire, I believe we will retain your rank as a General.” Torgon was the
only Hutt in the New Republic to ever acquire such a high rank and had
been a member for many years now. Mon Mothma, seemingly not prejudiced to
any race, personally appointed Torgon as an Admiral, and ultimately the
leader of the fleet of 0027.
Sienar took a proud posture and replied, ”Thank you, Admiral. As you
know, my father designed the Empire’s commonalities such as most TIE
divisions of Imperial starfighter.” The Admiral began to escort Sienar to
the quarters to which he had been assigned. “What you probably don’t know
is this: My father planned to drop out of the Empire shortly before he
was killed by Imperial troops who discovered his plans to join the
Rebellion.”
This
interested Admiral Torgon, who, like all Hutts, appreciated knowing every
detail of one’s life. It was in their blood. “Go on,” said the Hutt. He
was always under the impression that Sienar’s father was a pure Imperial.
That would most certainly explain why the Empire has all of the TIE
starfighters.
“Well, the
soldiers killed my father at the time that he was to deliver the plots
for the TIE Fighter to the Rebellion! After his death, the Empire took
possession of the plans and are still manufacturing them today.” The Hutt
continued walking and thought about the story he was just told. Turning a
corner, something clicked as to what was so familiar about it.
“We also
have a man in our fleet who shares your history to a certain degree,” the
Hutt told him. “Captain Cygnus works on spacecraft design here and he
once worked under the power of the Empire. It was just after the Battle
of Bpfassh when his General betrayed him and stole his design for the
Assault Gunboat.”
Sienar
raised an eyebrow. “Cygnus. As in, Cygnus Spaceworks?” he questioned.
“The designer of the Assault Gunboat is in this fleet?”
“Well it
was his father’s design, but he created the Modified Gunboat from the
scratch blueprints of the original,” replied Torgon. “Not only that, he
is in your branch of officers, General. Captain Cygnus is under your
command. However, he is on a temporary leave right now. His wife is
carrying a child for about eight months. He’ll be back once she gives
birth, I assume.”
“Really?”
replied Sienar. “How old is he, Admiral?”
Torgon
stopped walking at the front of a door and pulled a card key from the
sash he wore over his left shoulder. “I believe he’s twenty-seven, or
twenty-eight. I’ll make sure you’re formally introduced when he returns
and you can ask him yourself, General.” The Hutt swiped the card key
along the control panel on the side of the door and it slid open. Sienar
stepped into his quarters and graciously accepted the card key from
Admiral Torgon, who would be leaving this transport in short time, safe
with the knowledge that his branch was in good hands.
* * * *
With a
very clear mind and a very comfortable body temperature, Pico was
literally hovering. His feet were off the ground, although his
concentration didn’t allow him to notice. Even though Pico didn’t fully
understand this portion of his Jedi training, he trusted the word of
Dominic Artemius, his master.
He wasn’t
sure of the title, though. Was Dominic a Jedi Master? Pico had
pondered the thought over and over while he wasn’t training, which wasn’t
often. What did it take to be a Jedi Master? Deep down, he knew it had
nothing to do with age, but it seemed that every picture of a Jedi Master
he had seen in the past had all been older people. Artemius definitely
wasn’t old. As a matter of fact, he didn’t look a great deal older than
Pico; maybe ten years.
This
wasn’t the time for thinking, though. Now he had to concentrate on his
levitation among the earth. After a month and a half of his training
under Artemius, he expected this part to get easier. It didn’t. However,
he knew the routine very well. Now that he had stabilized his levitation,
he would lift one stone to his right and two logs to his left with the
Force. He then began rotating the objects around his body, getting their
locomotion gradually faster as they circled him. Thrusting his hands in
the air, Pico used the power of the Force to speed up the wind. It blew
harder and faster, bending the trees in the forest to their side.
In a
sudden sweep of energy, it was gone. The wind became calm and all that
could be heard was the thud of a stone and two logs hitting the soil.
Slowly, Ilyssis Pico returned to the ground. Dominic smiled at his
apprentice.
Sweat
dripped from his forehead, drenching his sleeveless shirt. He was
breathing hard and could barely talk. Until he grew stronger with the
Force, this would tire him greatly, each and every day of his training.
Artemius
raised one finger to him, just as Pico was going to ask if he did it
right or not. The Jedi walked over to the place on the soil where Ilyssis
had stood and bowed his head. Closing his eyes he spread his hands out to
his side and his body began floating higher and higher until he was about
a metre in the air. Rapidly, the stone and the logs met up with the
height of his knees and began spinning around him. Dominic brought his
hand into the centre of his body and then threw them upwards, pointing to
the sky. The wind howled as it bent the trees once more, breaking off
some of the branches. The broken branches blew into the circular pattern
and followed the logs and the stone. When the wind stopped, the stone
fell slowly below his feet, followed by the two logs, making a stack. The
broken branches dropped to his left and to his right, as he lowered
himself on to the stack.
Pico’s
mouth was wide open as Artemius stepped off the logs. “Master,” he said,
“I almost feel inferior now.” Dominic shook his head.
“Don’t
feel inferior, Ilyssis,” replied Artemius, “you have worked harder than
any Jedi I have ever known.” Pico looked up and smiled. “And that is
because I have made you do so. But your determination is what strikes me.
You have trained with me for ninety-two days in a row. No breaks. You
haven’t given up on anything, not once. I’m proud of that.”
“Thank
you, Master,” replied Pico.
“No,
Ilyssis. Thank you.”
* * * *
The
shuttle’s exit ramp lowered from the bottom of the ship’s hull as two
Imperial Royal Guards treaded in front, escorting Militiades down the
plank to greet Grand Admiral Forde Terrell. The Supreme Prophet of the
Dark Side had a cloak that was black as tar but sparkled like the sky at
night under the shine from fixtures above. It revealed not even his
hands, but a mere portion of his face. Admiral Pére was very jittery and
afraid, causing his hands to shake uncontrollably.
Militiades
approached the two uniformed men. “Grand Admiral, I bid you a dark
greeting,” said Militiades. “The process of Imperialization is not going
as well as I had hoped.”
Terrell
cringed at the thought that he was disappointing the Prophet already. “My
lord, I do command one of the smallest and least powerful militia officer
fleets in the Galactic Empire. We have taken nearly four star systems and
that isn’t enough. We can’t possibly work faster.” Militiades removed the
hood from his cloak and draped it over his shoulder. This revealed the
face of a man about thirty years in age with a completely bald, but
youthful scalp.
“Don’t
complain, Grand Admiral!” He was getting angry. “Because of your lack of
progress I am going to team your fleet with Grand Admiral Joon and the
fleet of Grand Moff Cadime.”
Terrell
was pleased with what he was hearing, “do you mean that five of the
twelve Grand Admirals will be on this colonization committee?”
Militiades
nodded. “In months time, the Empire will be back in full throttle and in
control of over half this galaxy.” Admiral Pére stood silent, walking
beside Terrell and Militiades. He almost wished that Militiades never
took half of the Empire for himself. He wished that he was still under
the command of Grand Moff Cadime. But that was a dream long gone. Cadime
was powerful still, but at any time he wanted, Militiades could sweep him
away without anyone even noticing. Half the Empire didn’t even know about
the Supreme Prophet of the Dark Side. Pére wished he were a part of that
half.
* * * *
The
high-pitched voice of a woman on deck blared through the intercom system,
“General Sienar, report to Flight Deck A, General Sienar.”
Sienar sat
in a well-cushioned chair at his desk. He was rather disappointed at the
voice because he had just returned from Flight Deck A about ten minutes
prior. Having to trek back and forth all the time was a bother. On top of
that, he was assigned to one of the rooms that happened to be at the
extreme point away from the flight deck.
However,
the reason for his paging was important and his responsibility as a
General prevented him from having authority over it.
It seems
that two escort shuttles were returning to this base on Mon Calamari
about ten minutes ago when they spotted an obscurely large fleet of
Imperial fighters heading their way. The officers on deck said that he
would be delivered the details later. Perhaps that later was now.
Sienar
swiped a card key down the terminal and opened the door to Flight
Deck A. He was greeted by A-Wing Green Leader Fredern Nightrider. “We
have a great deal more information for you, General.”
“Well, if
that’s the case, Commander, spit it out. I need to hear every last
detail,” replied Sienar, who had been a military strategist for his
entire life. He wasn’t about to let one measly item slip by him.
“Alright,
sir,” said Nightrider. “We had sent out two bulk freighters and a
Headhunter to escort the fleet that we had seen coming here earlier.
Post-inspection data revealed a list of resources from the fleet’s lead
Star Destroyer ship log. The squadron consists of a tally of about thirty
standard issue TIE Fighters, Four bomber class fighters, and the Star
Destroyer itself. It is likely that the Star Destroyer will also contain
a number of ground forces.”
“That
wasn’t every detail, Commander. If your ship’s scanners could pick up a
mission log and go undetected, it should be able to pick up the name of
the Star Destroyer, should it not?” asked Sienar.
“I didn’t
see it as being important, General. But if you wish, the Star Destroyer
was aptly dubbed as the Malevolent, sir,” replied Nightrider, “is
that significant?”
Sienar
gave an expression that came off as half-surprise and half-grief.
“Terrell,” he said as if it were the galaxy’s end. “Assemble twenty to
thirty pilots to the briefing room quickly, Commander. I need to organize
a little meeting. I will talk to Admiral Torgon. I expect you all to be
there in ten minutes.”
Nightrider
responded to the order in half that time and a defensive fleet was
assembled in the large briefing room of Rebel Base 0027. Sienar stepped
up to the front of the room, Torgon standing close behind him. The screen
that usually explained mission details visually was blacker than the
space they were fought in. “Pilots,” began Sienar, “It has come to my
attention that a discernibly large fleet of the remaining Empire’s
command has entered our star system. This fleet is commanded by the Star
Destroyer Malevolent. What you may not know, is the
Malevolent is the head capital starship of the re-colonization
mission of Militiades’s order. The ship is commanded under the
instruction of Grand Admiral Forde Terrell, a well-respected officer of
the Empire. Admiral Torgon?” Sienar staged the Hutt at the front of the
room. His deep voice made the mission sound impossible.
“General
Sienar has explained to me that Terrell is a dangerous strategist. His
plans on Calamari are to move into the waterworld and take the planet’s
head government through sheer force. Obviously, Terrell’s head scouts
didn’t do a very good job, because the Malevolent’s log has no
record of this base even existing. Chances are we will hit them by
surprise. If you succeed in this mission, you will have saved this base
and millions of citizens from the burdens of Imperial control.” The Hutt
stepped down, allowing Commander Nightrider to explain the actual
technical job of the starfighters in this mission. Sienar could see that
most of the pilots weren’t very intent up to this point. They were all
talking among themselves about what they would like at their funerals.
Except one.
Captain
William Cygnus was intently watching as Commander Nightrider poorly tried
to describe details of the mission without visual reference. It seems as
though Cygnus could understand everything. Sienar admired him for that.
“Thank
you, Commander,” Sienar said as Nightrider finished up. “Who is it in
this room who are capable of using the waterspeeders for this type of
defensive battle?” A few of the officers from the back raised their hands
and nodded.
“We have
quite a few, General,” said Nightrider from the side, “we don’t build new
ships unless we’ve got people who can fly them.”
“Good,
Commander. It won’t be long now. Admiral?” he said. “Deploy the
fleet.”
* * * *
Inside the
foresthouse of Ilyssis Pico, a small fire kept it cozy and warm. Dominic
Artemius had made some strange, but good, stew for the both of them.
However, Pico was evidently too tired to eat. Artemius stood up, deciding
it was time for a real break.
“Stand up,
Ilyssis,” commanded Dominic. Instantly, Pico arose as if he had the
energy to take on any challenge his master could put before him. “I now
think that it is time for your final skills to be touched upon and
mastered.” Pico looked confused, and Artemius could sense his
disappointment that more work could be headed his way. Dominic pulled out
a small white booklet from a case that he had brought with him since the
beginning. Pico had always wondered what was in the case, and it was too
big to carry only a booklet.
He handed
him the manual without a word. Holding it upside down, and backwards,
Pico realized that it was a lot larger than he originally thought. He
turned it right side up and stared at the back of it. Something was
written in very fine print so he had to hold it close to his face and
squint. Even then he wasn’t able to understand it. Just as he was about
to turn the book around to the title page on the front, a blast of sound
echoed through the room as if a vacuum briefly consumed the air and
slowed to a peaceful hum. He very quickly realized what the book was
about without even having turned it around. Rather shocked, Pico slowly
lowered the book from his eyes and found himself staring at the
shimmering green blade of energy discharged from the disk atop Dominic
Artemius’ lightsabre.
A look of
awe dominated Pico’s expression. The glow of the blade was mesmerizing.
As a child, lightsabres had always fascinated him through the use of
holoprojector gameboards. But since he had begun his training, Pico had
sub-consciously brushed the thought out of his mind. He had been so
focused on the training of the Force, that he had practically forgotten
that the weapon of the Jedi even existed. It seemed that Dominic had
dismissed the use of one, which in Pico’s mind made the Jedi Knight a
fabulous trainer of the arts.
“Your
final talents as an apprentice of mine will begin and end with the
construction and training of the lightsabre. During your break from
training, I am allowing you to sleep the extra hours that you haven’t
slept in a long time. Your training with the Force is no longer
necessary. We will do no more of that, because I know you are tired of it
and that you needn’t learn anymore. You have harnessed the Force,
Ilyssis, and have learned to use it well. Now you will combine that
talent with the use of the weapon of the Jedi for countless millennia.
Building the weapon will be your first step, and the instructions are in
this manual. I will be leaving early tomorrow morning to meet up with the
fleet of Political Council System 1048 to report your progress and
register you as a voluntary Jedi Knight for the defense of the New
Republic.” Pico smiled, and suddenly had a vision. It was a dream of but
a split-second in length. He saw his lightsabre under his eyelids for the
brief moment that he blinked. He saw it, and now he was going to build
it.
* * * *
Admiral
Pére bowed down to Militiades, in an effort to request that he ask a
potentially impetuous question. “My lord, I wish to know, out of personal
curiosity, as to why you are currently resting your powerful self upon
the Malevolent. We are heading into what may turn into a battle
and this is a dangerous place to be. Why have you left the House of
Lords?” he asked.
Militiades
sat on a high black chair that made the Supreme Prophet’s height
disadvantage fade away. “For a man of such imperative genius like
yourself, Admiral, I often wonder why simple logic cannot seem to live in
you,” said Militiades confidently. “If it is not your own mind that can
reason out your problem, I will, again, feed you the obvious. You see,
Admiral, the House of Lords is a Super Star Destroyer that is
listed as an important, though difficult, target of the New Republic.
With their fleet growing stronger, I wish not to be on a capital ship
that will be destroyed by small fighters. Coming here thwarts all
assassination attempts upon myself, because no one knows where I am.
Thus, being rid of the need for those damned Royal Guards. Every subject
of this highly beneficial status can be simply achieved by me moving from
one ship, to another. It’s that simple, Admiral Pére.”
Although
he didn’t show it in his face, the Admiral did feel stupid to the
simplicity of his question, or rather the answer. He said, “and my other
question“
Militiades
nodded his cloaked brow, “Yes, Admiral. Only a span of a dozen officers
know that I am on board this Star Destroyer, correct? The reason you have
been sworn to secrecy is also quite simple. If one of the officers on
your fleet is traitorous, then the information of my presence would be
leaked to the Rebel Alliance. If they knew this, Admiral, they would hit
your small colonization fleet with everything they’ve got. Therefore,
ending both my life and yours. Not to mention, quite possibly, the end of
the Empire.”
Admiral
Pére didn’t even ask the question, yet the Prophet knew what it was. He
rose to his feet and thanked Militiades for his insight with a short bow.
“And one
more thing, Admiral,” said Militiades. “There is a man named Toro Rusch
waiting for your arrival outside the door.”
He stepped
out of the sliding door and sure enough, Captain Rusch was standing there
waiting for him. “Admiral, a second run-through of Calamari by our scout
crew has discovered a slight issue.”
“Quit
stalling and tell me, if it’s that important, Captain,” he replied,
expecting the worst.
“Our
ground scouts have discovered a Rebel base located on the planet. It is
still inhabited and appears quite new, being that it is one of the
components of the Republic’s thirty fleet systems.”
“Which of
those thirty fleet systems is it, Captain? Perhaps we have the firepower
to overtake them,” said Admiral Pére. He knew the statistical build-up of
each and every one of the New Republic’s thirty fleets. That being the
case, he also knew which of the fleets were stronger than the others.
The
Captain smiled curiously and said, “but, Admiral, I was under the
impression that our mere Imperial colonization fleet was not a match for
any of the Rebellion’s fleet divisions.”
“‘Any’ is
not the correct term, Captain. Our fleet has the statistic capability to
withstand the measly firepower of one of those thirty fleets. Now
tell me who we are up against,” he shouted, beginning to get angry with
the reluctant officer.
“Admiral,”
he replied, “I trust your judgement, sir. But if what you say is true,
the chances of our winning the battle that could transpire are one in
thirty. It is an unquestionably remote chance that the weakest of Rebel
bases are set up on Calamari, seeing as to how it is so important to the
Rebels.”
“I am
aware of the importance that Mon Calamari is to the Republic! Now what
fleet are we up against, Captain?! Or would you like to stall us any
further?!” Pére was screaming at Rusch now; the Captain complied, as if
Pére had scared him.
“Section
0027 of the Rebel Fleet Systems, sir.”
Admiral
Walt Pére smiled deviously, with knowledge that this would be a battle
not quickly forgotten in the history of the Galactic Empire.
* * * *
“General
Sienar, it is my pleasure to finally introduce you to Captain William
Cygnus,” said Admiral Torgon the Hutt, introducing the pilot whom Sienar
had admired since he first heard of him in the east passage of the base.
Any one person who had the brain capacity to design a starfighter as
great as a gunboat was bound to be an excellent, loyal officer.
“Pleased
to meet you, General, “ spoke Cygnus.
“The honor
is mine, Captain Cygnus. I have been in great admiration of that gunboat
for years,” he replied. Cygnus knew that he and Sienar would be good
friends in no time.
“Why thank
you, General. However, you might as well start calling me Cygnus10. I’m
enrolling my son into the New Republic starfighter squadron as soon as
possible,” he said. The alterations of surnames in the New Republic’s
registry had recently been adopted along with the dividing of thirty
separate fleets. When Cygnus had officially enrolled his son into the New
Republic, the action would cause the records to change his surname only
slightly by addind a ‘10’ to the end of his name. This was the simplest
of those systems, although it got more and more complicated when the
registration of siblings and the like got involved. So far, however, this
had only been commonplace once. Lieutenant Yon Wrighley enrolled his
sister into the New Republic and her name was officially recorded as
Corporal Wrighley7 whilst Yon’s name stayed the same. “Unfortunately I
can’t talk too much right now. I have to get to my ship.” Cygnus began to
leave when Sienar questioned one more thing.
“Okay
then. So what do you fly, Cygnus10?” he asked with a pleasant
smile.
Cygnus
turned with a little laugh and said, “Why don’t you ask the Admiral? I’m
sure you’ll be impressed!” Cygnus turned and left for the hangar, leaving
Sienar with a puzzled look. Immediately, he went to the main deck where
the Admiral was standing.
“Admiral
Torgon, may I inquire as to what type of ship Captain Cygnus pilots?”
Sienar asked politely. The Hutt turned to him with a smile on his wide
face. “He said I would be impressed.”
“Well,
General, he designed it himself so I’m sure you’ll like it,” replied
Torgon. “I want you to take a look at the southeast window into the
hangar back there, General.” Sienar turned to the window the Hutt was
pointing towards. Looking down into the hangar, he could see Captain
Cygnus running up to the ladder that led to his crafty rendition of what
appeared to be an X-Wing snubfighter. But better. The nose of the
starfighter rounded off at the end and thinned out right up until the
short cockpit. Mounted in front of the S-foils, were another set of four
large and thick replicas of the S-Foils. The centre of the heavy S-foils
was a circular hole that held an R7 astromech droid which was being
inserted from the bottom of the hull. The ship was clean and sleek,
appearing as though it had never been used before.
“Wow,”
said Sienar, searching for more words to describe his feeling.
The Hutt
gave off a deep chuckle. “That, General Sienar, is the Incom/Cygnus
Spaceworks XX-Wing. The reason for the Double-X in it’s name is the two
sets of S-foils you are seeing. One houses the laser cannons, and the
other is modified and heavily designed by Cygnus to carry four warhead
launchers.”
“Four
warheads?!” said Sienar. “The Empire sure won’t see this coming.”
“I sure
hope not,” replied Torgon. “Otherwise 0027 has got even worse problems to
deal with. Even worse...”
* * * *
Ilyssis
Pico opened the metal case that his master had pulled the lightsabre
construction manual from. What he saw in the case was a series of disks
and metal tubes. He assumed that they were the materials that Artemius
left him to build his lightsabre with. He had left the planet of Seanne
earlier today, before Pico had awakened on the cold morning. He was left
with nothing but mechanical parts, a technical manual and the vision of
what he wanted his lightsabre to look like upon completion.
The
experience of constructing something like this was not new to Pico,
however. Two years prior, he had made his macrobinoculars using a similar
instruction manual. Skimming through a small bookshelf in the room, Pico
saw the macrobinoculars construction manual and pulled it out. Comparing
the two, he realized that they most definitely were printed and published
by the same company. He found it strange that the weapon of a Jedi would
have a manufactured instruction booklet. Pico flipped into the
back of the manual for his macrobinoculars, finding the technological
summary of what he should have completed upon finishing his device:
Macrobinoculars
are hand-held viewing devices that magnify distant objects, providing
both day and night vision built-in light and dark scopes. Readouts within
the viewplate give information on the viewed object’s true and relative
azimuth, its elevation and its range.
The
summary made more sense to him now then it did when he was fourteen and
had just finished making the device. Out of curiosity, Pico dropped the
macrobinoculars manual, and hastily flipped to the back of the lightsabre
manual. Sure enough, it also contained a summary of what you should have
made with a completed lightsabre:
The
lightsabre is a compact technological wonder built into a handle
twenty-four to thirty centimetres in length. A single power cell produces
tremendous charges of energy, which flows through a series of
multi-faceted jewels within the handle’s interior. The jewel focuses the
energy beam into a tight beam that can be emitted from the concave disk
atop the hilt. Sabres with a single jewel have a fixed amplitude and
blade length. Those with multiple jewels (usually no more than three)
alter their amplitude and change the length of the blade. This is
accomplished by rotating an exterior control that varies the distance
between the jewels. The emitted beam arcs back from it’s positively
charged continuous energy lens to a negatively charged high-energy flux
aperture set in the disk atop the handle. The power amplitude determines
the point at which the beam arcs back setting the blade’s length. The
lightsabre blade itself emits no heat, though it does fluoresce.
“That
certainly is a mouthful,” Pico said aloud. He looked over the summary
again and continued talking to himself, “I can’t believe I can build
this.” However, he knew that it was the completion of his skills and it
had to be done. He opened the first page of the lightsabre construction
manual, picked up a small metal disk and began the end of his training as
a Jedi Knight.
* * * *
The low
scream of a Y-Wing’s engine echoed throughout the hollow cockpit of an
Imperial TIE Fighter. It’s pilot abruptly hit the green switch set in
front of him and his engines matched the speed of the targeted Y-Wing. He
had re-routed most engine power to his cannons, knowing that he wouldn’t
need all of it for the sluggish Rebel starfighter.
The pilot
took a glance at his scanner and quickly pulled up behind the pursuing
Y-Wing. It’s over now, he thought to himself. He quickly set his
cannons for dual fire and began blasting away at the ship’s engines. In a
sudden explosion, another of the Rebel ships was gone, and the assailant
TIE emerged from the cloud of expanding blue smoke.
A voice
blasted through the pilot’s headset within the helmet. “Alpha One, this
is Interceptor Gamma Squad leader. All the Y-Wings have been
destroyed. My group will take hold of the X-Wings. Your job is to protect
Bomber group Eta, who are entering Calamari’s atmosphere now.
Don’t let them get destroyed. It’s the first and most important bombing
run. We only have so many resources.”
“Acknowledged,”
replied the pilot. “You heard him. Form a Stargrouped Defensive Formation
around the three Bombers.”
Shortly
thereafter, a group of five TIE Fighters slowed to 80 MGLT and surrounded
the Eta group. It wasn’t long before they were through the clouds.
What they didn’t expect was the crossfire they ran into. The blasts of a
V-Wing airspeeder slapped into the side of the Alpha TIE group
leader’s Fighter, sending its half-destroyed hull plummeting to the
waters of Mon Calamari.
Under the
orders of the now-in-command Alpha 2, the four remaining TIE Fighters
formed what is known as a Demilo Barrier strategy as the Bombers
continued to move towards the Rebel base, which was perched up on an
artificial shoreline.
The Bomber
group commanded flight group Alpha to move their speed down to 5%
throttle power as they moved in for the bombing run on the base. The
group of seven TIEs didn’t pick up the three waterspeeders on their
scanners. Each of the waterspeeders slowed to a stop underneath the three
TIE Bombers. Each raising their Ion Cannons to point directly up, they
fired. By the time Alpha 2 spotted the speeders, the disabled Bombers
were already being pulled to the water by the force of gravity.
TIE
Fighter group Alpha was in a wreck shortly when a group of
V-Wing’s swooped down from the higher breaches of the sky and pelted
turbolaser blasts onto the metal casing of the Fighters. The pilots of
the falling TIE’s could almost feel a scowl from Grand Admiral Terrell as
their ships went down. The Empire was supposed to be winning this
battle.
* * * *
An officer
approached Sienar on the main bridge. “General Sienar, the last bombing
attempt was over fifteen minutes ago. B-Wing Blue group reports that they
are trying a new strategy that our scouts didn’t pick up. The
Malevolent is deploying eight TIE Advanced Starfighters with a
bombing run in mind. Our fleet will have difficulty with not only that,
but the escort group itself. It consists of twenty Fighters, eight
Interceptors and two Gunboats.”
Sienar
felt a shiver. “That’s going to be a problem,” he said. “I’ll inform the
Admiral. In the meantime, put your flight officers together and begin the
evacuation process. I need to get Captain Cygnus on the commlink.” The
man turned and walked out of the bridge. Sienar began walking fast to the
Flight Decks, frantically trying to find Admiral Torgon. Sure enough, he
was still conducting the battle from Flight Deck A.
“Admiral,
we can no longer waste any time. We’ve got to evacuate, or the
approaching TIE Advanced will kill all of us,” Sienar said, in somewhat
of a hysteria. Torgon turned to him.
“So I’ve
heard, General. Are you sure that our fighters will not be able to hold
them off? There is hope, you know. It rests in the hands of some of our
better ships. I would like to get a hold of Captain Cygnus on
commlink if you don’t mind,” he replied. “But I do think that we should
evacuate just in case, Admiral.”
“You’re
probably right, General,” Torgon said. “Have a seat and put on those
headphones. You’ll be able to tap into all the fighters from there. I’ll
go and command the evacuation.”
“Thank
you, Admiral,” said Sienar, sitting down in the strangely comfortable
seat. In front of him was a bright LCD screen that listed all of the
starfighters in the air right now, and placed a red line through the ones
that had been destroyed. He moved a cursor down the list with a trackball
to XX-Wing starfighter, Dynamism. Setting it for communications,
he spoke into the headset, “Captain Cygnus, this is General Sienar.
Report in, please.”
A crackled
voice came through the headset, “I’m here, sir. What can I do for
you?”
“I need to
know what you’ve got for warheads in those S-foils of yours,” replied
Sienar. Cygnus was in a surprisingly pleasant mood considering he was in
a devastating battle.
“The top
two have the standard concussion missiles and the bottom left carries my
proton torpedoes. The other one is my personal favorite.”
“What is
it, Captain? We can’t waste too much time.”
“It’s
those lovely mag pulse shots.”
“Perfect.”
“Why is
that perfect, General? What do you need me to do?” he asked, sounding
more intent now then he was before.
“There’s a
squad of about forty ships, including eight TIE Advanced, approaching the
base for a bombing run. I need you to launch a couple of them mag pulses
into those Advanced Fighters. Do you think you can do that?”
“Is Adega
in the Outer Rim?” Sienar honestly didn’t know the answer to that, but he
assumed that it was a sarcastic, metaphorical ‘yes’.
Cygnus
pulled out of the atmosphere of Mon Calamari and entered the vacuum of
space, where there was just as much of a crossfire as there had been on
the planet itself. He could see the Malevolent much more clearly
from where he was now. Checking the bottom of the starship, he could see
the thirty-something ship escort that Sienar was talking about emerge
from the hangar. They were in a difficult formation and it wouldn’t be
easy to get near the Advanced.
Cygnus
made a swift barrel roll to the left as an incoming Fighter tried to take
him out at the cockpit. The TIE Fighter flew right past the XX-Wing and
smashed into another of its own kind. Cygnus set for full throttle and
re-routed all power to engines, knowing that this attack would be based
entirely upon the warheads. The targeting system in front of him
displayed that the closest TIE in the bombing escort was an Assault
Gunboat about 1.4 kilometres away. Just in range to lock onto a set of
two missiles.
He set up
the crosshair for his concussion missile and it began to glow red when it
circled over the targeted Gunboat. As soon as the beeping stopped, Cygnus
let the trigger go and pushed forward on the warhead launcher. Two orange
concussion missiles left the S-foils atop the XX-Wing, leaving behind a
red tail that dissipated quickly in front of his ship. They tracked the
Gunboat down, and Cygnus immediately targeted the next Gunboat that led
the squadron. He saw an explosion of his first target and the escort
began to move in on Cygnus’ ship. The second set of warheads didn’t have
time to lock on to the other Gunboat, but Cygnus launched them anyway, in
hopes that there was enough tracking on the missiles to at least trail
behind their target time enough.
He
switched to a maneuverable position in his craft and dove underneath the
approaching swarm of six TIEs. The XX-Wing spun around to the back of one
of the TIE Fighters and Cygnus pulled up and over, just to face the
cockpit. In a panic, he tried to pull down on the throttle, but couldn’t
slow up in time. He barreled onto his left side and the nose of his
starfighter rammed into the wing support on the TIE, sending its right
solar panel spinning into the hull of his wingman. The dismembered
Fighter spun uncontrollably, smashing its cockpit into yet another of his
fellow TIE pilots.
Cygnus
warded off to the side and out of the battle for only seconds and he
tried to get his R7 astromech to do his best to repair the beaten up nose
of the craft. Then he would go back in, hopefully hitting another three
birds with one stone.
* * * *
A clink of
metal hitting the bottom of a steel garbage can was the only sound you
could hear as Ilyssis Pico threw away lightsabre parts. He had decided on
not using the materials that Dominic had left behind for him and start
from scratch. He truly wanted his lightsabre to be the best of its
kind.
Pico started the engine on his landspeeder and hopped in, holding the
lightsabre construction manual firmly in his hand. He hoped that he would
find some parts in the city.
When his
speeder arrived at the city, he made sure he had everything he needed and
got out. He had nearly forgotten how busy it usually was. He hadn’t
been here in months. The entrance was bridged with the words ‘Kit Kade
City’ engraved into an arch above a parking lot of speeders. Kit Kade
wasn’t much of a city anymore. It had transformed into a tiny village
where everyone knew everyone else.
Pico
hopped from the speeder and took his things out. The lightsabre manual
resting tightly under his arm, Pico glanced at the city more observantly
than he ever did. Perhaps it was his newfound Jedi instinct or maybe he
just hadn’t been here in a while. The buildings surrounding seemed so
different from the enclosed forest world. They certainly weren’t any
taller, but they were huge in area. Come to think of it, he
thought, I don’t think there’s a single two-story building in this
entire city.
He was
hoping to find his friend Niles still working at the antique shop today.
Before his training, he had often gone to the city to visit him, even
though the things in the store were far too expensive for Pico’s limited
credits. However, it was at that store that he planned to purchase most
of the parts for his lightsabre. He had gathered up his life savings and
summed up a good amount of credits after Artemius lent him a transaction
bank that withdrew right from the account of the New Republic.
Pico put a
lockfield on his speeder and began to stroll casually down Main Street.
Rumors of his Jedi training must have somehow made their way to the city,
because people were already beginning to look at him strangely and
gasping at his sudden return. The main shopping area was surprisingly
busy at this hour in the morning. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that
he had already passed the antique shop, just by not paying attention and
trying to appear blasé.
Pico
approached the glass door and swung it open. It seemed cleaner in the
store than it ever had been before. The shelves were all dusted and the
air even seemed fresher. Standing over at the counter with a smile on his
face was Niles Verra.
“Oh, how may I serve you my powerful Jedi friend,” said Niles jokingly .
He drew his index finger up and pointed at Pico as if it were an
imaginary lightsabre. “Touché.”
“So you
heard huh?” replied Pico, still curious as to how it was everyone came
about the knowledge of his training. Pico smiled. “As a matter of fact,
I’ve come here to get parts to make myself a new finger, Niles.”
“I can’t
believe you’re actually going through with this Jedi stuff,” said Niles,
rummaging through things in his display case that could be of some use to
Pico. “Well, I don’t know much about the construction of Jedi weapons,
buddy. But I do know that things like that from this store are way out of
your price range.”
This is
where Pico would shine. “I thought that you would say something like
that, Niles,” replied Pico. He shuffled through through the pack he
brought with him and pulled out the transaction bank, then thrusted the
screen right near Niles’ eyes. The blue radiance from the handheld
account shone onto his face and his eyes widened with surprise as his
left hand lowered the screen from his eyes.
“Eleven
hundred credits!” shouted Niles. “What’d you sell?!”
“Life
savings are half of it. The rest comes from the goodwill of my Jedi
instructor, Dominic Artemius,” Pico said.
“So you
really are going to be a Jedi then?” Niles asked. “For a long time it was
just a rumor, but are you really serious?” Niles pulled a small rod from
the chest behind him and brought up an old rag from his pocket to polish
the item.
Pico
didn’t reply with words. It was then that he smiled and the shaft in
Niles’ hand flipped outwards and landed in Pico’s. Pico held it up with
two fingers and shook it back and forth, making sure Niles could tell it
wasn’t an illusion.
He looked
at him with awe and realized that the rumor had been true. “I’ve never
seen anything like that, Ilyssis. That’s incredible,” Niles said,
changing his happy tone of voice to more of a traumatic one.
“It’s not
as hard as you’d think. I assure you that I am capable of a lot more, but
I am not here train you I’m afraid,” replied Pico.
“Okay, I
understand that. You have a lot of money Pico, but I probably don’t have
enough to provide true change in coins for you.”
Pico
smiled once more. “That won’t be necessary, Niles,” he said, “I intend to
spend all of it. I want the very best.”
* * * *
“By the
end of this destructive battle, Terrell, I want a transport scheduled to
meet up with the House of Lords. Tell them to meet with my shuttle
over Alzoc III. And no hyperspace,” spoke Militiades, commanding another
obscure order to Grand Admiral Terrell.
“But, my
lord, without a hyperdrive manifestation, it will take the House of
Lords nearly a year to make it from Nar Shaddaa to Alzoc III,”
replied Terrell, still confused as to why the Prophet kept approaching
him with such strange requests. He should have known by now that all of
his requests had good reason, but he just couldn’t see it without a good
thorough explanation.
“I am
seeing to it that I arrive right before the House of Lords does. I
want a transport without a hyperdrive unit also. Presumably a Corellian
bulk freighter that can support my life for about a year or so. Without a
hyperdrive unit, my craft will not be considered a potential carrier of
the leader of the Galactic Empire,” said Militiades, waiting for
Terrell’s guilt to set in.
“I will
see to it then, my lord,” Terrell said, leaving with the standard bow to
the Supreme Prophet of the Dark Side. Exiting the room, Admiral Pére
stood outside the door, waiting for Terrell to come out of the chamber
that Militiades had claimed.
“Enjoying
your stay, Grand Admiral?” questioned Pére.
“Not
particularly. Why do you ask?”
“I was
hoping you wouldn’t because it seems to be getting worse. I have analyzed
the attack patterns of a powerful group of B-Wings who are moving in to
advance on the Malevolent. It seems that evacuation is coming
closer and closer to being a possibility,” explained the Admiral.
Terrell
looked at him for a moment and then quickly dismissed the option of
evacuating. Pére could tell that he had done so. “Do we not have the
advantage over the Rebels, Admiral?”
“Well,
sir, from the looks of the space battle, we are losing. However, we
cannot see what is happening in the atmosphere. It is possible that we
have the advantage down there,” said Pére.
“What
about the bombing run of the TIE Advanced?”
“A small
portion of the escort wings were destroyed by an unidentified craft, that
appears to have the structure of some sort of advanced X-Wing prototype,
sir.”
“New Rebel
technology. Very interesting, Admiral. In that case, have the Imperial
outpost on Kabal send over a Missile Boat on the double. See how well the
new Rebel fighter deals with that.”
“Yes,
Grand Admiral.”
“We can’t
lose this battle, Walt. Imperialization depends on it. Militiades will
have us killed.” For the first time, Admiral Pére heard fear in the
Terrell’s voice. For the first time, he called him by his first name. And
for the first time, Terrell was beginning to lose confidence in the
Empire’s capabilities.
* * * *
All Rebel
flight groups were assigned to protecting the shuttles and escort
shuttles that were being used in the evacuation of Rebel Base 0027. The
key element in protecting those shuttles sat in the cockpit of the
XX-Wing as it made another attack run on the TIE Advanced bombing escort,
which was getting dangerously close to the planet.
A new
Imperial ship floated out of hyperspace and showed up on the targeting
system as a new craft alert. Cygnus targeted the new craft. It’s sleek
design showed up on the LCD screen and he recognized it immediately. It
was the Missile Boat. The Missile Boat that he had a hand in designing
and knew everything about. Even then it would be a dangerous foe. But it
was eight kilometres away for now and he had to concentrate on his attack
run.
Four TIE
Fighters broke off the escort and Cygnus’ threat display signified that
he was their target. His shields were still low from the nose of the
XX-Wing ramming into the TIE awhile earlier. It would be a dangerous run,
especially with the approaching Missile Boat behind him.
He
maneuvered into the four TIEs who swooped around the ships with a stream
of linked cannon fire that further lowered the XX-Wing’s shield system to
34%. Pulling off to the side, Cygnus swarmed one half of the group by
linking his quad-cannon fire and letting laser blasts explode on the
sides of two TIE Fighters. He was surprised that there was still three
remaining after the shots he took. The two that he didn’t direct the fire
at had moved around to the back of the ship and taken a few critical
shots to the engines, taking out the remainder of the XX-Wing’s
shields.
Cygnus had
to leave. It was getting too dangerous for him there. But he wanted to
put full effort into the safe escape of the fleet of 0027. He couldn’t
just leave for his own sake. He had to stay behind and offer all help
possible. Cygnus remained there and put all hopes in the doonium hull of
the ship to survive.
Using
every kind of piloting skill he had ever learnt and more, Cygnus moved to
full throttle and went straight up, disappearing from the cockpit view of
his attackers. Swiftly, he began a smooth dive straight down, facing the
TIEs. He blasted four of his cannons at the same time with a narrow
S-foil positioning, causing a collision of his own shots to form a
temporary ray shield in the middle of space. Almost instantly, Cygnus
switched to the mag pulse warhead and fired two of them directly at the
depleting, mid-space ray shield. The purple ionic warhead hit the shield
in the centre, spreading the pulse outwards with a range of about ten or
twelve metres. The spread of the mag pulse penetrated the system
condition of the TIE Fighters and they went out of control, just as
Cygnus’ XX-Wing dove through the remaining bubble of shielding that was
left behind.
He pulled
up from the remains of his victory over the TIE Fighter escorts. A
warning light from the top of the cockpit target screen flashed:
Missile Warning! Missile Warning! Targeting!
The targeting computer brought up an image of the missile that
tracked the XX-Wing. Cygnus knew it was coming from the Missile Boat and
had no choice. Pulling the red lever underneath the main control let out
a smell of exhaust and the cockpit blasted from the ship’s fuselage,
sending the ejection seat away from the ship. Just seconds later, the
missile penetrated the engines of the XX-Wing and the explosion narrowly
missed the ejection pod.
The
Missile Boat swept right on by the ejection pod and didn’t fire at it.
Luckily for Cygnus, the new Rebel ejection pods weren’t detectable on a
targeting system of the highest caliber. However, it would be picked up
by a radar on a transport. Or so Cygnus had hoped. He only had one hour
of an oxygen supply in the pod. The rest of it was left behind in the
destroyed starfighter.
All that
Cygnus could do now was wait. He watched several escort shuttles escaping
from Mon Calamari, and several other shuttles get destroyed. And he
couldn’t offer any help. He was an immobile cockpit just waiting to get
picked up.
* * * *
All of the
parts were laid out on the table in front of Pico. It looked so complex.
Everything from the large crown shaped emitter to the tiny rectangular
pieces of glass, this lightsabre was going to have it all. He had already
built most of the technical components of the weapon’s interior and
could, although dangerous, turn it on if he wanted to. But now he was
focused on the machine casing of the sabre.
He decided
to work his way from the bottom up. The cubic power cell that he bought
was different from most lightsabre power cells, but there is no reason
why it shouldn’t work just as well. He decided on covering the battery
inside the casing with a checkered grip that attached to a smooth,
circular disk. From the bottom of the disk, he welded upon it, two
attachments that branched off a D-ring from the base. He bent the
standard D-ring to a shape that he thought looked best and didn’t get in
the way.
He
attached the activation switch to the power cell, but intended to modify
the machine casing so that the activation depended on a button rather
than a switch. The narrow button was smooth and didn’t even appear to be
a button at all. Its diamond-shaped cover was a dark red in hue embedded
on the silver back that extended from the checkered base. He fastened
them together with a black wire that pressed upwards from the sides of
the button.
Atop the
button he set a silver bulb with a brass mesh engraving by fastening it
to a ring of gold and black stripes. The wire from the bottom of the
checkered base extended upwards and attached to the main portion of the
shaft. The wire’s were set on two movable springs that were made into a
set of two screws. When Pico pressed his fingers along the side of the
wire, it would push inwards and mould to the base of his hand. Removing
his finger, the wire abruptly snapped back in place. That was his
original plan for the wire and he was fortunate to have it succeed. He
wanted the sabre hilt to be decorative and comfortable at the same time.
It was a difficult task.
He had
been working on that hilt for nearly a month now and Dominic Artemius had
not yet returned. Pico hoped that he hadn’t gotten engaged in some sort
of trouble.
It wasn’t
until the next morning that Pico found out when Artemius would return. A
shuttle came into Kit Kade City at dawn and Dominic once again emerged
from the thicket. Pico was already awake, building his lightsabre atop
the roof of his foresthouse. He found it to be a more serene location
than anywhere else he could find in or around his home.
“Master,
don’t look yet!” Pico shouted excitedly. “You can’t see my lightsabre
until I am done with it. It’s kind of a surprise, I think.” Artemius
looked disappointed.
“You
haven’t finished it yet, Ilyssis?” he asked rhetorically. “Most Jedi,
even of your age would have it done by now.”
“I know,
Master, but“
“I
provided you with easy instructions and simple parts. I expected you to
have that lightsabre done in a matter of days. You have brought yourself
before me on a high note, and now I expect very highly of you,” said
Artemius, cutting him off.
“Master,
please let me finish,” Pico stated. “This lightsabre is going to be even
better than your own. Not to offend you at all, Master, because you wield
a beautiful hilt. However, I did not use the parts that you left with me.
I took a trip into Kit Kade and visited my friend at the antique shop. I
spent nearly eleven hundred credits to buy parts for this
lightsabre.”
Artemius
almost gasped. “I’ve never heard of such an expensive lightsabre before.
The parts I left with you were worth about eighty-five. My lightsabre is
worth only two hundred fifty-one credits. How could you possibly spend so
much on a single hilt .”
Pico
smiled. “You’ll see, Master. You’ll see.”
* * * *
“Captain,
I want you to have an escort shuttle ready. We will evacuate in moments,”
said Grand Admiral Terrell to the deck officer in command of the space
battle. Admiral Pére and himself were just on their way to recommend to
Militiades that he should evacuate with them also. “Update, Admiral?” he
said as they walked out of the main deck and towards the chambers of
Militiades.
Pére
looked back at Terrell with disappointing news. “The assault by the
twelve-man B-Wing squadron has severely damaged the Malevolent,
sir. One of the ships willfully damaged the hyperdrive system. Escape is
now nearly impossible.”
“If that’s
the case, we have to hurry and tell Militiades,” replied Terrell. “He
needs to get off more than all of us.” In his mind, Terrell didn’t truly
believe that, and neither did Pére, but they didn’t comment.
Opening
the chamber doors, Pére escorted Grand Admiral Terrell up to the black
chair the Supreme Prophet sat upon. The cloaked figure turned in his
chair to face the two Imperial officers. His hood was removed, revealing
his bald scalp once again. Only this time, Terrell noticed something he
hadn’t seen before. A thin string of golden sand was wrapped around the
forehead of the Prophet and it gleamed underneath the miniscule
light.
“What can
I do for you, men?” Militiades said. Terrell knew that Pére was
frightened by the presence of the Prophet. He would have to do all the
talking without sounding stupid.
“My lord,
a very dangerous approach of Rebel spaceships are striking hard at the
Malevolent. It would be wisest to evacuate this ship. I have the
transport you asked for ready in the hangar now if you wish to take it,”
said Terrell. The response he got was typical of Militiades; it sounded
more stupid than wise.
“Grand
Admiral, I won’t be leaving this ship until the battle is
over.”
Pére spoke
up, “But, sir, the battle will be over with the destruction of this
ship!”
“He is
right, my lord,” said Terrell. “This ship is in bad shape. We have a
critical hull condition and the B-Wings are still out there.”
“I am not
leaving. Now off with you.”
Terrell
scowled and left, followed by Admiral Pére. In the usual situation,
Militiades would be right about this sort of thing and soon enough, Grand
Admiral Terrell would agree. But not this time. What the Prophet spoke of
was stupidity. This ship was going to be destroyed and the Empire would
have to find itself a new leader.
* * * *
The words
‘Incom/Cygnus Spaceworks XX-Wing-Class Starfighter’ were struck down the
centre with a red line on the screen before General Sienar.. “Admiral.
Cygnus’ ship has been destroyed,” said Sienar, still sitting at the desk
on the main deck.
Torgon
gave as much of a surprised expression as a Hutt could and then
responded. “It is possible that he ejected. I’m surprised he would have
had to, though. A ship of that capability would have to be taking on a
large number of enemy fighters to get destroyed. Check the radar, that’s
the only place that can pick up ejection pods.”
Sienar
slid over in his chair. A circular screen showed green ‘+’ symbols
representing the ejection pods. “There’s three pods, Admiral,” said
Sienar. “I will pick them up on my shuttle, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t
want you to unnecessarily risk your life.”
“I
wouldn’t want you to, either, General. I’ll organize a shuttle to pick
them up. I don’t need a dead General at a time like this.”
“There’s
no time! We have to get them now. If Cygnus was willing to risk his life
to help save these escape shuttles, I’m willing to risk my escape shuttle
to save his life.” With that, Sienar stood up and began running to the
hangar. Torgon understood that it was time and a rescue shuttle would be
cutting it too close. He couldn’t stop Sienar now anyway. He just hoped
that the mini-mission he had assigned himself wouldn’t fail.
Sienar’s
shuttle exited the hangar on the floating base at full speed. He had
originally intended to take more than just himself on board. But if
he was picking up three ejection pods, he would have to have room on
board.
The
shuttle exited the atmosphere and Sienar found the radar system. His
shuttle was marked in the centre of the circular radar map. He followed
the pattern that led to the nearest pod until he could see it through the
viewscreen of the cockpit. He tried targeting the pod, but it wouldn’t
work, so he guessed that it was about 0.2 kilometres away. Sienar slowed
down in an effort to find an ideal place to pick it up. However, a sudden
scream of a TIE Fighter came closer and closer until it swooped down
under the shuttle and blasted the ejection pod into dust.
Sienar
felt a moment of grief, had that been Cygnus, but he continued on a path
to find him. The next pod was shown to be closer to the Star Destroyer,
as was the third. He sped up to about 2/3 engine power and kept his two
defensive laser cannon trigger near his finger.
He saw the
second pod that almost appeared to be in orbit. By the looks of the
radar, there were not any enemy fighters in range at the moment. These
pods were difficult to spot. But he was sure that it was Cygnus’ pod. He
remembered looking at the XX-Wing in the hangar and that’s what the seat
looked like as far as he could remember.
Sienar
opened the bottom hatch of his shuttle and lowered an aired tube that
would bring Cygnus up through to the shuttle. The tube locked around the
door of the cockpit and the suction alone opened the door to the seat.
Cygnus unstrapped himself from the seat and let the air bring him up to
the shuttle. When he entered the back cabin of the shuttle, Sienar let
the tube go and the pod floated back into space.
Sienar
opened the door to the cabin at the back just as Cygnus took off his
helmet. And waved. “I figured it might be you, General,” he said.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
“No
problem. So what happened to you?”
“Well, I
single-handedly took on the TIE Advanced bombing escort,” Cygnus said
with a smirk.
“I’m sure
you’ll be rewarded somehow.”
“Yeah, I’m
going to talk to Admiral Torgon about that.”
“About
what?”
“My
reward.” Cygnus smiled.
“Okay,
I’ll ask about that later. There’s still another pod out there. Come with
me.”
Cygnus
bowed his head to his chest. “Don’t bother, General. That man is dead. I
saw him eject while I was fighting off those TIEs. That was long over an
hour ago.” Sienar said nothing. Then turned to go back to the cockpit.
“Then I
guess we’d better get out of here.” Cygnus nodded and went with Sienar to
the cockpit. It was a difficult experience for Sienar to just float by
the lifeless pod and not do anything about it. But he did.
Pulling
the lever next to the radar on which he found Cygnus, the shuttle drove
into hyperspace, heading for Rebel Base 0016 on Coruscant.
* * * *
Six months
of hard work was put into the construction of this handle; now he needed
to know if it worked. The hilt was heavier than he expected. All the
mechanical parts made it so. But the lightsabre construction manual
stated that it would seem very light when ignited, because the blade of
the weapon weighs almost nothing. Pico looked over at Dominic Artemius,
who was starting up a fire and beginning to cook some breakfast.
“Master?”
“Yes,
Ilyssis,” he replied.
“It’s
done.”
Dominic
left what he was doing and hoped that this lightsabre he was about to see
would be worth all the time and effort his apprentice had to put into it.
Pico hopped down from the roof, holding his hilt, wrapped in a burgundy
cloth. He handed the cloth to Artemius. Holding it in his left hand, he
unwrapped it, revealing an extraordinarily luminous shaft, so intricately
detailed that it didn’t appear to be any more than a common antique. Its
crowned emitter was of a platinum metal. Three exquisitely shaped frames
of dark glass were embedded into the emitter. More of that tinted glass
could be seen on the main silver portion of the shaft. Looking through
the glass, Artemius could see the Adegan crystal rotating in a stream of
light which only added to its magnificence. “Have you turned it on,
Ilyssis?”
“That’s
what I called you over here for, Master,” said Ilyssis, very excited and
proud of his work. Pressing the dark red diamond near the base, a small
disk at the very bottom began to spin, creating an illusion of gold and
silver vertical lines. The silent spinning indicated the stand-by mode.
Pico gripped the hilt in front of him, smiled at his master and pressed
the button once more. The disk below the emitter instantly pushed forward
a blue blade of energy with the familiar blast of sound. Pico nearly
laughed with his excitement. Artemius smiled as well. Pico motioned the
blade back and forth, listening to the soothing hum of the beam.
“Ilyssis,
you do amaze me,” Artemius said. “You are native to this galaxy for
sixteen years and you constructed the most intricate lightsabre I have
ever seen. You exhibit the most potential I have ever personally
witnessed. And now I am proud to say that there is no test that you could
not pass. We will train with the lightsabre for awhile now. It will be
the kind of training that you will catch on to quickly and so you shall
not need much instruction from me.”
Artemius quickly ran into the foresthouse and came back out with a set of
clothing. It was obviously the traditional cloak of the Jedi Knight and
he was about to present it to Pico. “Put this on, Ilyssis. You are more
than just my pupil now. You are independent.”
Pico
smiled widely and took the cloak from Dominic. “Thank you, Master. Thank
you.” Artemius nodded and returned to cooking breakfast in a much happier
mood than he was earlier that morning. Earlier that morning when he heard
about the fleet of 0027.
* * * *
“Hurry,
Admiral. Hurry!” shouted Grand Admiral Terrell over the noise of the
hangar. Pére ran up to the ramp of the shuttle and got in. “We have to
get out of here now. Captain Yuqua is piloting for us.” The two Imperial
officers moved up to the cockpit where Yuqua was taking off.
“Are you
sure this thing’s gonna blow?” asked the Captain.
“Of
course, I’m sure,” said Terrell.
“Oh, I
don’t doubt it, Grand Admiral. But most of the Rebel fleet is escaping
now. The Empire has won this battle,” replied Yuqua.
“That’s
only true if the Malevolent survives. The colonization can’t
continue without this ship,” said Pére. “I think it’s a stalemate.”
The escort
shuttle blasted out of the hangar and easily avoided the minimal
crossfire that there was remaining from the battle. Until a set of two
Y-Wings moved in front of the shuttle, releasing four proton torpedoes at
the escaping ships. The shuttle just survived. Escort shuttles were
powerful, but it wasn’t much to rely on now. Yuqua pulled the hyperdrive
lever. The ship was just exiting realspace when the same Y-Wings dove in
front of the ship. The speed from the hyperdrive unit smashed into the
two Y-Wings, and the scrambled remains of the three ships entered
hyperspace.
In the
chamber of Militiades, the Prophet watched as fewer and fewer blasts were
made at the Malevolent. He decided to leave the chamber. Everyone
would be trying to evacuate now. Anyone who was that stupid was to be
killed. The battle was coming to a close and the Star Destroyer was still
intact. Grand Admiral Terrell was a fool to have left the
Malevolent.
Militiades
opened the chamber doors and walked out. A few flight officers stood
outside and noticed him immediately. Frightened, the officers jumped back
as to the shock of Militiades being boarded on this capital ship. The
Prophet walked down to the flight deck and passed more frightened
officers. One of the officers nearing the hangar door didn’t have time to
be scared, he helped a few others into a shuttle to evacuate. Militiades
walked by him and smiled devilishly. Instantly the man dropped to the
floor. Dead.
He entered
his transport and acknowledged the man who would pilot it. He sat in the
large chairs of the cockpit beside the captain and anticipated a long
trip to Alzoc III. The House of Lords had already left. It was
time to meet up with it. One year of absence from the Empire would do him
well. Militiades, the Supreme Prophet of the Dark Side looked back at the
Malevolent, fully intact and still containing officers. Officers
that would continue colonizing the surrounding systems. Upon reaching the
House of Lords, Militiades would appoint Grand Moff Cadime to run
the Imperialization business now. The battle was over and the Empire had
won, just as he had so predicted against the beliefs of Grand Admiral
Forde Terrell.
* * * *
“It’s just
a small request I have for you, Admiral,” spoke the voice of William
Cygnus on Coruscant. “Before we build the new base, I would like to
enroll my son under the care of the New Republic. He and my wife, Shriva,
were on Calamari during the battle. If we don’t free them quickly, they
will be stuck under Imperial control.”
Torgon
looked down at Cygnus. “It sounds like a reasonable request to me. We are
busy now, but we will find time to rescue your son.”
“At least
one good thing happened today,” he said to himself.
Sienar was having something to eat over at the cafeteria at 0016. Cygnus
was hungry as well, so he thought he would take the empty chair.
He sat
down across from Sienar and waved a tired hand. “How much was the food?
It looks pretty good to me.”
Sienar
looked up and stopped chewing for a moment. “Everyone from 0027 is
getting fed for free because of what happened to us. All you need is your
Republican ID,” said Sienar.
“Perfect,”
replied Cygnus, “I’ll be right back.” Sienar turned and watched Cygnus
order some exotic dish called Feeb Ika Yikus. Sienar didn’t like it
himself, but it could have been an enjoyable meal for anyone who was that
hungry.
He
returned to the small table with his food. “This is good stuff!”
“You
actually like that?,” asked Sienar. “Are you sure you aren’t just really
hungry?”
“I’m
sure,” said Cygnus, “I lived on Napaj Ode for a little while and I really
got hooked on this stuff.”
“Okay
then. By the way, how did it go with Torgon up there?”
“Fine.
They sent someone to pick up Billy about an hour ago.”
“Billy?”
“Yeah.
That’s his name. After me, of course.”
“I see.
Aren’t you going with them?”
- “I can’t. Ackbar is holding me back here to answer some stupid
questions.”
- “That’s why I was never a pilot.”
“Never?”
“Not once.
I was always working desk jobs and designing spacecraft. My place is not
in space.” Torgon walked into the cafeteria and motioned for Cygnus to
come with him.
“Don’t let
that food get cold.. I’ll be back,” Cygnus said.
Torgon
took him to the room next to the cafeteria. “Captain, the ship we sent to
retrieve your son is coming back now. Upon arrival, the crew met up with
stormtroopers. Fortunately, they escaped with your son and are coming
here now. However, I’m sorry to report that your wife did not survive the
incident.” Cygnus nearly fell over. Tears welled up in his eyes and he
couldn’t talk, but left his mouth gaping wide open. He collapsed against
the wall and hid his head between his knees. “I have already taken the
liberty of enrolling your son into the New Republic’s fleet system of
0027. That way you can spend all the time you need taking care of him.”
Cygnus gave no response, just raised his hand up from his knees,
signaling a thank you. “I am truly very sorry, Captain Cygnus. Captain
Cygnus10.” Torgon turned around and began to make his way back to the
main flight deck of 0016, when he turned his head back to face Cygnus
once more. “Oukle noo ma sowe,’ he said. Cygnus didn’t understand
Huttese, but it meant something to him. Something that he couldn’t
describe without crying furthermore.
* * * *
A dozen
weak charges of plasma were absorbed in the blade of Pico’s lightsabre.
The remote was no longer a challenge, nor were any of these exercises
that Artemius had put him through. The art of mastering the lightsabre
was in his possession now.
“Excellent
job, Ilyssis,” said Artemius, removing the blindfold from his head. “You
didn’t miss one. I honestly haven’t seen someone move so quickly when
receiving blaster bolts like that. Now I have but one more test.”
“Yes,
Master,” he said. He was hoping it would something somewhat more
challenging.
Artemius
pulled a small innocuous-looking lightsabre hilt from his cloak and
showed it to Pico. “Take this, Ilyssis. It is a lightsabre that seems to
have gone out of practice in recent years.” Pico ignited the bland shaft
and out came a thin white blade that was a bit shorter than his actual
lightsabre. “These are called stunsabres, Ilyssis. The have the same
weight and structure of every true lightsabre, but only exhibit the force
of a tree branch. They don’t cut at all.” Pico trusted the words of his
master and tried grabbing the blade of the stunsabre; it hurt, but
exhibited no real wounds and after a few seconds, the pain went away. It
felt much like an electric shock when his hand came in contact with the
blade.
Dominic
brought out another stunsabre from his cloak and turned it on. It looked
identical. “What are they used for, Master?”
“Remove
the cloak. I will remove mine. They are used to train, Ilyssis. Only to
train,” said Artemius, gripping his lightsabre into a fighting
stance.
“We’re
going to duel?!” shouted Pico. “I can’t win.”
“You don’t
know that, Ilyssis. I have trained you to be better than myself.” Pico
understood that it would be quite a feat to defeat his own master, so he
thought that at least the effort would be worth it.
Pico held up his stunsabre, hooking his actual one to the belt of his
undertunic outfit. He tossed the brown cloak aside and prepared himself
in a ready stance. Once he got focused, Pico hopped forward quickly and
struck at the upper body of his master. It was blocked swiftly and
counter-attacked. Artemius was surprised. Pico was moving so fast, he
could hardly defend himself, let alone get any offensive strikes in. He
tried strafing to the left to evade Pico’s stunsabre and was forced to
backflip away. Pico pulled a side aerial over the area where Artemius had
often built a fire, making a difficult strike at his master’s legs.
Artemius evaded the attack and struck downwards to Pico’s forehead.
Whatever
happened next happened very fast, and Dominic didn’t even see it take
place. Pico blocked the high strike and pressed his opponent’s lightsabre
high above him. He flipped over Artemius, half-twisting in mid-air, and
put his foot underneath his master’s. With a small, but powerful kick,
Pico tripped Artemius forward, knocking his lightsabre out of his hand
and high into the air. Pico reached out with the Force and pulled the
de-activated stunsabre hilt to his own body and turned his own off.
Artemius
got back up to his feet and smiled at his apprentice’s progress. Pico
held one stunsabre hilt in each hand and crossed his arms in front of his
chest, bowing to his master. He had won.
“Ilyssis,
we are going to leave Seanne. We are going to leave tonight. The fleet of
0027 should be re-assembled by now. They are boarded on a Calamari
cruiser near New Cov. We will travel there tonight and I will introduce
you to Admiral Torgon the Hutt. You are no longer a learner, Ilyssis
Pico, you are a Jedi Knight.”
