Chapter One
Chapter 1
<Zaaloris - Original - Rebel Alliance Freighter Firestorm>
It was a dark time for the Rebellion. Hoth Base had fallen, the Rebellion was on the run. The Empire’s iron grip was tightening around the Galaxy and the fires of hope were dimming.
But they weren’t out yet.
The battered YT-2000 dodged and weaved bare feet above the sand dunes of the massive desert which dominated Zaaloris, pursued by an even dozen TIE fighters. The military grade shields of the small ship easily withstood the pounding from the light laser cannon of the common Imperial snubs, but even they would eventually be worn down.
Luckily, however, directly ahead of the massively modified and upgraded light freighter loomed salvation, as a massive sand storm swept across the dunes directly towards them. The upgraded shields would shrug off the sand while the TIEs would need to either break off or be sandblasted into wreckage.
The TIE pilots were dedicated, fanatics even, but they weren’t stupid. They broke off as the first buffets from the massive storm started hitting them, screaming upwards to avoid the storm and hopefully pick off the freighter as it broke clear of it.
They did not, however, expect the utterly insane maneuver that the YT actually pulled, as it shot out behind them having pulled a 180 degree turn within almost its own length while in brown-out conditions from the sand.
The TIEs recovered, pulling around in tight turns, but the YT had gained a critical jump on them and screamed skyward like a homesick angel.
In the cockpit a rather battleworn Rutian Twi’lek handled the controls with utter and complete confidence. The Firestorm had brought her team through much worse situations than this one, after all. So what if she had a flight of TIEs from Death Squadron on her tail, with Executor about to clear the orbital path and block their escape. The speedy freighter would get past them, they had before after all.
“Nik, tell me the hyperdrive is ready?” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Not yet, still getting the new motivator hooked in!” came the return shout from the young human engineer who had the guts of the hyperdrive spread out well behind the pilot's compartment.
“You got 15 minutes to get it hooked in and buttoned up or we’re dead.” she yelled back.
“I’m working on it, stop interrupting me Aloni” the engineer shot back testily.
“Leave the kid alone.” Aloni’s co-pilot, a hulking trandoshan rumbled. “He knows his business.”
“Was his fault we’re in this situation, what made him think NOW was a good time to do drive maintenance, just because the Book says to do it?” the twi’lek grumbled back. “You know that as well as I do, Scrish.”
“It wasn’t just the book, the last jump nearly fried the drive.” Scrish reminded her.
“Remind me of that LATER.” she twitched the controller, spoiling the aim of the pursuing TIEs.
One of which bloomed into a short-lived fireball as one of the turrets managed to strike it. The intercom crackled to life “Nine here!” came a gruff male voice. Moments later a slight chirp showed a different channel opening “Make that ten for me!” came a much chirpier feminine voice.
Another fireball. “Ten all… no eleven.” as a second fireball joined the first.
“No fair, they’re all on your side. ALONI, ROLL THE SHIP!”
Aloni rolled her eyes, not the ship. “I am not getting involved in your ridiculous contest, Triselka, just get as many of those eyeballs off our tail as… oh shit, squints.”
On the scope a flight of TIE Interceptors were slowly overtaking the Firestorm.
And behind them loomed the bulk of Executor herself, along with the rest of Death Squadron.
“YOU GOT FIVE MINUTES NIK!” she yelled over her shoulder.
“KEEP YOUR PANTS ON, I’M WORKING ON IT” came the shout back.
“THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU SAID LAST NIGHT” the twi’lek yelled back.
“I WAS DRUNK!” came the shout back from the engineer. “WORKING ON IT! STOP BOTHERING ME”
Aloni growled, the throttle pinned to the firewall as the freighter desperately attempted to hold the range open enough to be able to escape.
The Interceptors were drawing closer, but the real danger was the massive Super Star Destroyer looming behind them. One solid ion cannon or turbolaser hit and they were dead. The shields were good, but not that good.
“Tell me you’ve got the calculations down at least, Scrish.” Aloni growled at her ‘dosh co-pilot.
“Already input into the navicomputer and ready to go the moment the hyperdrive goes green.” came Scrish’s response.
Minutes crawled by as if they were hours, time seeming to slow to a feeble crawl as Executor loomed larger behind the fleeing freighter. The first brilliant splashes of color showed the first volleys of turbolaser and ion cannon fire inexorably drawing closer to the frantically evading little freighter.
Then the light turned green, and Aloni gripped the hyperdrive handles and quickly advanced them to the stops, spooling up the drives.
The starscape started to stretch before them as the welcome vortex of hyperspace beckoned them closer and they started to accelerate to hyperspace.
And in that very instant a one in a quintillion event happened. At the very instant that the hyperdrive energies peaked to fling the freighter into hyperspace, at the very nanosecond where the Firestorm existed balanced on the razor’s edge of the ordinary universe and the crazed energies of hyperspace, an ion cannon blast struck the freighter. A nanosecond earlier and they’d have been dead in space, a nanosecond later and they’d never have been hit at all.
Even then that wouldn’t have been enough, the simple hyperphysics of the transitional moment would have left the surging ions behind with only minor sparks on the hull. But the hyperdrive casing was still open and Nik had had to bypass several safety interlocks to complete the reinstallation of the motivator as fast as he had.
Everything went mad.
Everything changed.
<REALITY DISCONNECT>
<Zaaloris System - HIMS Impetuous>
When they told us we were getting two Jedi, I expected, well, two Jedi, not a twi’lek two weeks out of the Academy and a kid who looked young enough to be my granddaughter. Then we got into our first battle with those two on board… They were both Jedi
Lieutenant (JG) Taber ‘Sparkles’ Ban wasn’t quite the youngest pilot in the T-70D X-Wing squadron aboard HIMS Impetuous. Quite. By a week. Of course, the fact that she’d arrived for her in-brief still in dress uniform after having come straight from the Temple and a meeting with her former Jedi Master had immediately caused her to be dubbed ‘Sparkles’ for the fact she was first met wearing all of her ‘sparkly stuff’.
But the slender young Lethan Twi’lek had indeed been wearing her full formal dress uniform underneath her formal Jedi robes which were most certainly of the most formal and elaborate and meticulously correct cut possible. Taber preferred more casual wear, to be honest, indeed she normally wore the light standard issue armored flight suit that all pilots wore rather than the ‘sparkly stuff’.
Of course, one does not say ‘No’ to Master Yan Dooku about formal dress. He may be old, but Master ‘Do It Again’ was quite famous for his expressive eyebrows and complete lack of a sense of humor. Taber had to work quite hard to keep an expressionless face when she heard that latter bit.
But that was then, and unfortunate callsign aside, she had slotted in as a wingman in her flight of Imperial X-Wings quite smoothly. Granted, it was rare for any Imperial Jedi to be assigned to a vessel as small as an Imperator-II class Heavy Cruiser. But it was known to happen, and Taber was quite happy with the assignment.
Even if her personal astromech droid R1 was grumpy about it, like always.
“Amused Statement. So you are now assigned to child care, twi’lek. After all, babysitting is a traditional job for slightly older children..” the ancient droid needled her while she walked the corridors between her quarters and the shuttle bay.
OK, normally grumpy, when he wasn’t making fun of her.
She’d found the still functional droid brain that, in essence, was R1 while scavenging around on a junk planet with Master Dooku. The brain had been installed in an R2-series chassis, but R1 claimed that he was the oldest operating droid in the Galaxy and thus insisted on being referred to as R1.
And insisted on using the affected speech pattern, claiming he’d heard it once on a ‘very top secret mission’ and found it amusing. He also categorically refused to reveal what that ‘very top secret mission’ was, nor how it was somehow related to him being on a junk planet.
Taber indulged him in all of that. “It’s not child care, R1” she replied, like she had so many other times. “The council has seen fit…”
“Interruption. It’s child-care, twi’lek. You are holding her hand and wiping her nose. Annoyed Statement. You will not, of course, involve me in this ridiculous duty.” R1 interrupted gruffly.
OK, so her assignment wasn’t solely to fly the most common snubfighter in Imperial service. She may be a fighter pilot, but her Master had been Dooku, and being able to handle potentially delicate assignments was her specialty as much as any junior Imperial Knight even had a specialty.
Even if the Justice Minister still enjoyed telling the clearly exaggerated and embellished tale of how he met her.
Especially since the Justice Minister still enjoyed telling the clearly exaggerated and completely embellished tale of how he met her.
It wasn’t 50 stories, damnit.
So yes, she was also supposed to ride herd on Elini’roli’athori, who was only nominally an Ensign and was in absolute terms much younger than her, but being Chiss was considered by her race to be of equal maturity. Even if she looked in her ID holo like a pre-teen blueberry who should still be playing with dolls.
However Taber had heard of the infamous Triumph Of The Younglings back when she had been a Junior Padawan. The one and only time in history that the Emperor had lost a training duel with a class of Younglings. According to Dooku, the young Chiss had promptly been shipped off to Ossus to train under Master B’nar and the last her former Master had heard the girl hadn’t left the planet in the years since. And Dooku had, with his customary equanimity mixed with the Eyebrow Of Extreme Disapproval Of Laxness, informed his former Padawan that since Master B’nar had been utterly unsuited to teaching anybody even the basics of lightsaber combat that Elini’roli’athori had ‘insufficient lightsaber skills’ to be considered for anything even vaguely resembling independent assignment.
Taber really hoped the Chiss had a more… compact… use name than that monstrosity.
Although why the kid rated being transported out to the Impetuous on an Intersector rather than a regular shuttle was beyond her. Granted the fact that they’d be getting a small gunship that was normally only assigned to capital ships was rather welcome, but as far as Taber knew only fairly senior Imperial Jedi were able to requisition one of them, not somebody who was barely beyond a junior Padawan.
Regardless, she arrived at the landing bay just as the Intersector flared and settled down on its landing gear, the ramp lowering almost before the gear had finished flexing from the landing itself.
Wait… she recognized that ship. And sure enough the woman who had been Master Dooku’s Senior Padawan when she’d been a junior was already coming down the ramp by the time she made the twenty steps from the hangar entrance to the ramp. And that neatly explained how she’d gotten the relatively rare ship.
Captain Mara Skywalker, adopted daughter of His Imperial Majesty, Anakin Skywalker the 1st, was shaking out her braided red hair as she walked. Behind her came the petite figure of Elini’roli’athori, wearing extremely plain gray robes and with her hood up.
Tabor threw off a textbook perfect salute to Mara, which was returned with rather more insouciance as was quite typical of the entire Skywalker family. “Mara! Didn’t know you were coming.” the twi’lek said, not at all surprised when her old friend casually discarded ordinary protocol and drew her into a quick hug.
“Dad had one of his visions.” came the response. “So he had me pick Irolia here up on Ossus and bring her here chop chop. Wouldn’t tell me why, but you know His Nibs.” The two of them chorused together “Telling others the vision might make them try to fulfil or avoid it, which always makes things worse” and then they both laughed.
“Anyways,” Mara continued, gesturing the robed Chiss forward. “Tabor, this is Irolia, Irolia, this is Taber Ban, Master Dooku’s latest Padawan to graduate to Knight.”
The young Chiss bowed slightly, still not lowering her hood. “Elini’roli’athori, use name Irolia.” her voice was rather soft with a faint Coruscanti accent.
R1 chose that moment to interject “Amused Statement. Wonderful, twi’lek. You have a Chiss noble brat to babysit… put me down!” as the droid was suddenly hoist into the air at a tiny gesture from the robed Chiss. “Annoyed Exclamation. This is not acceptable behavior Chiss!”
“Indeed it is not.” Irolia replied in that soft voice of hers. “As I remember Master Bnar’s lectures on proper manners quite well, perhaps I shall instruct you on acceptable behavior, no?”
Taber meanwhile had started laughing, which set Mara off. “That’s putting the bucket of bolts in his place!” the twi’lek whooped, slinging one arm around the slight figure of the Chiss girl. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
All the while R1 was now loudly squawking indignantly to be put down ‘Right This Very Minute!’ while the droid floated in mid air.
<Zaaloris - Original - Rebel Alliance Freighter Firestorm>
It was a dark time for the Rebellion. Hoth Base had fallen, the Rebellion was on the run. The Empire’s iron grip was tightening around the Galaxy and the fires of hope were dimming.
But they weren’t out yet.
The battered YT-2000 dodged and weaved bare feet above the sand dunes of the massive desert which dominated Zaaloris, pursued by an even dozen TIE fighters. The military grade shields of the small ship easily withstood the pounding from the light laser cannon of the common Imperial snubs, but even they would eventually be worn down.
Luckily, however, directly ahead of the massively modified and upgraded light freighter loomed salvation, as a massive sand storm swept across the dunes directly towards them. The upgraded shields would shrug off the sand while the TIEs would need to either break off or be sandblasted into wreckage.
The TIE pilots were dedicated, fanatics even, but they weren’t stupid. They broke off as the first buffets from the massive storm started hitting them, screaming upwards to avoid the storm and hopefully pick off the freighter as it broke clear of it.
They did not, however, expect the utterly insane maneuver that the YT actually pulled, as it shot out behind them having pulled a 180 degree turn within almost its own length while in brown-out conditions from the sand.
The TIEs recovered, pulling around in tight turns, but the YT had gained a critical jump on them and screamed skyward like a homesick angel.
In the cockpit a rather battleworn Rutian Twi’lek handled the controls with utter and complete confidence. The Firestorm had brought her team through much worse situations than this one, after all. So what if she had a flight of TIEs from Death Squadron on her tail, with Executor about to clear the orbital path and block their escape. The speedy freighter would get past them, they had before after all.
“Nik, tell me the hyperdrive is ready?” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Not yet, still getting the new motivator hooked in!” came the return shout from the young human engineer who had the guts of the hyperdrive spread out well behind the pilot's compartment.
“You got 15 minutes to get it hooked in and buttoned up or we’re dead.” she yelled back.
“I’m working on it, stop interrupting me Aloni” the engineer shot back testily.
“Leave the kid alone.” Aloni’s co-pilot, a hulking trandoshan rumbled. “He knows his business.”
“Was his fault we’re in this situation, what made him think NOW was a good time to do drive maintenance, just because the Book says to do it?” the twi’lek grumbled back. “You know that as well as I do, Scrish.”
“It wasn’t just the book, the last jump nearly fried the drive.” Scrish reminded her.
“Remind me of that LATER.” she twitched the controller, spoiling the aim of the pursuing TIEs.
One of which bloomed into a short-lived fireball as one of the turrets managed to strike it. The intercom crackled to life “Nine here!” came a gruff male voice. Moments later a slight chirp showed a different channel opening “Make that ten for me!” came a much chirpier feminine voice.
Another fireball. “Ten all… no eleven.” as a second fireball joined the first.
“No fair, they’re all on your side. ALONI, ROLL THE SHIP!”
Aloni rolled her eyes, not the ship. “I am not getting involved in your ridiculous contest, Triselka, just get as many of those eyeballs off our tail as… oh shit, squints.”
On the scope a flight of TIE Interceptors were slowly overtaking the Firestorm.
And behind them loomed the bulk of Executor herself, along with the rest of Death Squadron.
“YOU GOT FIVE MINUTES NIK!” she yelled over her shoulder.
“KEEP YOUR PANTS ON, I’M WORKING ON IT” came the shout back.
“THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU SAID LAST NIGHT” the twi’lek yelled back.
“I WAS DRUNK!” came the shout back from the engineer. “WORKING ON IT! STOP BOTHERING ME”
Aloni growled, the throttle pinned to the firewall as the freighter desperately attempted to hold the range open enough to be able to escape.
The Interceptors were drawing closer, but the real danger was the massive Super Star Destroyer looming behind them. One solid ion cannon or turbolaser hit and they were dead. The shields were good, but not that good.
“Tell me you’ve got the calculations down at least, Scrish.” Aloni growled at her ‘dosh co-pilot.
“Already input into the navicomputer and ready to go the moment the hyperdrive goes green.” came Scrish’s response.
Minutes crawled by as if they were hours, time seeming to slow to a feeble crawl as Executor loomed larger behind the fleeing freighter. The first brilliant splashes of color showed the first volleys of turbolaser and ion cannon fire inexorably drawing closer to the frantically evading little freighter.
Then the light turned green, and Aloni gripped the hyperdrive handles and quickly advanced them to the stops, spooling up the drives.
The starscape started to stretch before them as the welcome vortex of hyperspace beckoned them closer and they started to accelerate to hyperspace.
And in that very instant a one in a quintillion event happened. At the very instant that the hyperdrive energies peaked to fling the freighter into hyperspace, at the very nanosecond where the Firestorm existed balanced on the razor’s edge of the ordinary universe and the crazed energies of hyperspace, an ion cannon blast struck the freighter. A nanosecond earlier and they’d have been dead in space, a nanosecond later and they’d never have been hit at all.
Even then that wouldn’t have been enough, the simple hyperphysics of the transitional moment would have left the surging ions behind with only minor sparks on the hull. But the hyperdrive casing was still open and Nik had had to bypass several safety interlocks to complete the reinstallation of the motivator as fast as he had.
Everything went mad.
Everything changed.
<REALITY DISCONNECT>
<Zaaloris System - HIMS Impetuous>
When they told us we were getting two Jedi, I expected, well, two Jedi, not a twi’lek two weeks out of the Academy and a kid who looked young enough to be my granddaughter. Then we got into our first battle with those two on board… They were both Jedi
Lieutenant (JG) Taber ‘Sparkles’ Ban wasn’t quite the youngest pilot in the T-70D X-Wing squadron aboard HIMS Impetuous. Quite. By a week. Of course, the fact that she’d arrived for her in-brief still in dress uniform after having come straight from the Temple and a meeting with her former Jedi Master had immediately caused her to be dubbed ‘Sparkles’ for the fact she was first met wearing all of her ‘sparkly stuff’.
But the slender young Lethan Twi’lek had indeed been wearing her full formal dress uniform underneath her formal Jedi robes which were most certainly of the most formal and elaborate and meticulously correct cut possible. Taber preferred more casual wear, to be honest, indeed she normally wore the light standard issue armored flight suit that all pilots wore rather than the ‘sparkly stuff’.
Of course, one does not say ‘No’ to Master Yan Dooku about formal dress. He may be old, but Master ‘Do It Again’ was quite famous for his expressive eyebrows and complete lack of a sense of humor. Taber had to work quite hard to keep an expressionless face when she heard that latter bit.
But that was then, and unfortunate callsign aside, she had slotted in as a wingman in her flight of Imperial X-Wings quite smoothly. Granted, it was rare for any Imperial Jedi to be assigned to a vessel as small as an Imperator-II class Heavy Cruiser. But it was known to happen, and Taber was quite happy with the assignment.
Even if her personal astromech droid R1 was grumpy about it, like always.
“Amused Statement. So you are now assigned to child care, twi’lek. After all, babysitting is a traditional job for slightly older children..” the ancient droid needled her while she walked the corridors between her quarters and the shuttle bay.
OK, normally grumpy, when he wasn’t making fun of her.
She’d found the still functional droid brain that, in essence, was R1 while scavenging around on a junk planet with Master Dooku. The brain had been installed in an R2-series chassis, but R1 claimed that he was the oldest operating droid in the Galaxy and thus insisted on being referred to as R1.
And insisted on using the affected speech pattern, claiming he’d heard it once on a ‘very top secret mission’ and found it amusing. He also categorically refused to reveal what that ‘very top secret mission’ was, nor how it was somehow related to him being on a junk planet.
Taber indulged him in all of that. “It’s not child care, R1” she replied, like she had so many other times. “The council has seen fit…”
“Interruption. It’s child-care, twi’lek. You are holding her hand and wiping her nose. Annoyed Statement. You will not, of course, involve me in this ridiculous duty.” R1 interrupted gruffly.
OK, so her assignment wasn’t solely to fly the most common snubfighter in Imperial service. She may be a fighter pilot, but her Master had been Dooku, and being able to handle potentially delicate assignments was her specialty as much as any junior Imperial Knight even had a specialty.
Even if the Justice Minister still enjoyed telling the clearly exaggerated and embellished tale of how he met her.
Especially since the Justice Minister still enjoyed telling the clearly exaggerated and completely embellished tale of how he met her.
It wasn’t 50 stories, damnit.
So yes, she was also supposed to ride herd on Elini’roli’athori, who was only nominally an Ensign and was in absolute terms much younger than her, but being Chiss was considered by her race to be of equal maturity. Even if she looked in her ID holo like a pre-teen blueberry who should still be playing with dolls.
However Taber had heard of the infamous Triumph Of The Younglings back when she had been a Junior Padawan. The one and only time in history that the Emperor had lost a training duel with a class of Younglings. According to Dooku, the young Chiss had promptly been shipped off to Ossus to train under Master B’nar and the last her former Master had heard the girl hadn’t left the planet in the years since. And Dooku had, with his customary equanimity mixed with the Eyebrow Of Extreme Disapproval Of Laxness, informed his former Padawan that since Master B’nar had been utterly unsuited to teaching anybody even the basics of lightsaber combat that Elini’roli’athori had ‘insufficient lightsaber skills’ to be considered for anything even vaguely resembling independent assignment.
Taber really hoped the Chiss had a more… compact… use name than that monstrosity.
Although why the kid rated being transported out to the Impetuous on an Intersector rather than a regular shuttle was beyond her. Granted the fact that they’d be getting a small gunship that was normally only assigned to capital ships was rather welcome, but as far as Taber knew only fairly senior Imperial Jedi were able to requisition one of them, not somebody who was barely beyond a junior Padawan.
Regardless, she arrived at the landing bay just as the Intersector flared and settled down on its landing gear, the ramp lowering almost before the gear had finished flexing from the landing itself.
Wait… she recognized that ship. And sure enough the woman who had been Master Dooku’s Senior Padawan when she’d been a junior was already coming down the ramp by the time she made the twenty steps from the hangar entrance to the ramp. And that neatly explained how she’d gotten the relatively rare ship.
Captain Mara Skywalker, adopted daughter of His Imperial Majesty, Anakin Skywalker the 1st, was shaking out her braided red hair as she walked. Behind her came the petite figure of Elini’roli’athori, wearing extremely plain gray robes and with her hood up.
Tabor threw off a textbook perfect salute to Mara, which was returned with rather more insouciance as was quite typical of the entire Skywalker family. “Mara! Didn’t know you were coming.” the twi’lek said, not at all surprised when her old friend casually discarded ordinary protocol and drew her into a quick hug.
“Dad had one of his visions.” came the response. “So he had me pick Irolia here up on Ossus and bring her here chop chop. Wouldn’t tell me why, but you know His Nibs.” The two of them chorused together “Telling others the vision might make them try to fulfil or avoid it, which always makes things worse” and then they both laughed.
“Anyways,” Mara continued, gesturing the robed Chiss forward. “Tabor, this is Irolia, Irolia, this is Taber Ban, Master Dooku’s latest Padawan to graduate to Knight.”
The young Chiss bowed slightly, still not lowering her hood. “Elini’roli’athori, use name Irolia.” her voice was rather soft with a faint Coruscanti accent.
R1 chose that moment to interject “Amused Statement. Wonderful, twi’lek. You have a Chiss noble brat to babysit… put me down!” as the droid was suddenly hoist into the air at a tiny gesture from the robed Chiss. “Annoyed Exclamation. This is not acceptable behavior Chiss!”
“Indeed it is not.” Irolia replied in that soft voice of hers. “As I remember Master Bnar’s lectures on proper manners quite well, perhaps I shall instruct you on acceptable behavior, no?”
Taber meanwhile had started laughing, which set Mara off. “That’s putting the bucket of bolts in his place!” the twi’lek whooped, slinging one arm around the slight figure of the Chiss girl. “I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
All the while R1 was now loudly squawking indignantly to be put down ‘Right This Very Minute!’ while the droid floated in mid air.
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