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Chapter Text

Prince Gaheris of Lothian sat alone in his cabin, staring at the hilts of the twin Caliburn swords.  The swords had long been the sacred and cherished weapons of the Knights of Avalon.  Caliburn blades had once been forged on the mythical planet of Avalon.  There the weapons had been infused with power by the knights who had once dwelt on the planet- magic that only responded to the hand the blade was forged for.  A Knight of Avalon would only receive two Caliburn swords over their lifetime. The first was given when the youth was chosen to serve as a squire to a Knight Master.  The second was given when the squire was knighted by the Lady of the Lake

The set Gaheris had hadn't been made for a squire or a Knight but for an infant too small to curl a hand around the hilt.  The Knights had been a dying breed nineteen years ago.  The Emperor may have only just begun his war against their order, but the knights had had the foresight to realize that there may not be enough of them left to create one Caliburn, let alone two, when the child came of age.

They had been correct in their foresight.  Five years ago, there hadn't even been a knight alive to take the child on as a squire.  Hope was fading fast among the rebellion, which was why Gaheris was taking such a risk in moving the Caliburn blades.

The evening air was crisp as Prince Gaheris, Senate Representative of the Planet Lothian, made his way down the crowded streets.  The planet Rome did little more than serve as the seat of the Empire and the Imperial Senate Representatives from all across the Galaxy gathered on Rome when the Senate was in session.

Not that the Senate could do more than bicker amongst themselves these days.  The Emperor had the real power.  Of course no planet in the galaxy would dare challenge him as long as they had the right to send a representative to Rome to bicker with all the other representatives.  It made them feel as though they were a part of the process.

A large, broad shouldered figure peeled away from the nearest alley to walk side-by-side with Gaheris.  A quick glance confirmed that it was his oldest brother, Gawain, walking next to him. 

“I've been followed,” Gaheris said softly.  The House of Lothian had long been under suspicion within the Empire.  Their mother, Queen Morgause, had been labeled a traitor to the Empire.  She had fled Lothian with her four sons, hiding on the planet Cornwall—beyond the Empire's ability to hunt her down.

Morgause had kept her sons close, refusing to allow them to leave Cornwall and join the rebellion until after they turned twenty.  Gawain had left first and had immediately joined the rebellion.  Agravain stayed on Cornwall to help Morgause with the fishery.  Gaheris and his twin Gareth had left at the same time.  Gareth had joined the rebellion.  Gaheris, however, had publicly renounced his mother and brothers and returned to Lothian to serve his father as a representative to the Senate.  Publicly, of course, Lothian was as loyal to the Empire as any planet.  Privately, it did all it could to help the rebellion as a small, weaponless planet under constant scrutiny could.

“We've taken care of it,” Gawain said.

“What are you thinking?” Gaheris hissed.  “It's too dangerous to call such a blatant attention to ourselves.”

“It doesn't matter anymore,” Gawain said.  “You're not going to have a place here much longer.  The Emperor is planning to disband the Senate.”

“So the old blighted fool is finally going senile,” Gaheris said.  “He'll never be able to control the galaxy without at least a show of democracy.”

“There's a weapon.”

“What kind of weapon?”

“We're not entirely certain.  Cywyllog returned from Windsor claiming…claiming horrors untold.  Isolde isn’t certain she believes her, but she’s allowing Cywyllog to take a small team to Colonge to try and steal the technical plans for this thing.”

“That’s madness,” Gaheris said.  “They’ll never get out of there alive.”

“That’s not the goal,” Gawain said.  “Cywyllog has a defected Imperial technician who insists she can get them in and get them to the server storing this information.  That’s where things start to get tricky.  According to this technician, the plans can only be transmitted out.  If they try to carry them out, the fill will be corrupted.

“This is the first part of your mission,” Gawain said, pressing a small disc into Gaheris’ hand.  “That contains coordinates where Cywyllog and her team will transmit the plans to.  Be there at the assigned time to receive it and then run like hell.  Our hope is that the Empire will be too distracted with the chaos on Colonge to notice you.”

“And the second part?”

“Go to Cornwall.  Find Morgan le Fay.  Convince her to train our cousin as her squire.”  Gawain shifted the pack on his back and passed it to Gaheris.  Through the cloth, Gaheris could feel the shape of the two Caliburn hilts press against his back.

“Le Fay still follows the olds ways.  She'll never—”

“There's no one else, Gaheris,” Gawain said.  “We've looked everywhere in the Galaxy.  They're all dead.  She's the last one.  You must impress this upon her, Gaheris.  If she refuses, we are without hope.”

“Am I to bring her to the rebellion?”

“No.  Give her whatever information you received from Colonge and the swords and leave them to find their own way.  You are to return to Lothian.”

Gaheris didn't know what tipped him off to the true meaning of his brother's words.  Maybe it was something in Gawain's tone or posture.  Or maybe it was because Gaheris already knew what it meant when the rebellion pushed you in the opposite direction.  He wasn't supposed to survive this, and it was better to go down on his way back to Lothian than to lead the Empire to le Fay or the rebellion.

“I understand,” Gaheris said.

“If there was another way, Gaheris, you know—”

“No, Gawain, I'm honored.  Truly.”  Gaheris stopped walking and Gawain turned to face him.  “Safe journey back to... wherever you're going.  Tell Gareth...”  Gaheris stopped, unsure what last message he wanted to give to his twin brother. 

“I will,” Gawain said.  “May the Force be with you, Gaheris.”

“You too, Gawain.”

 “Your highness.”

Gaheris started before remembering the commlink in his ear.  “Go ahead, captain.”

“We're approaching the planet Cornwall.”

“And the Imperial Star Destroyer?”

“Almost upon us.”

“Very good, captain.  Take the hit at the first opportunity.  Make it look believable.”

“Yes, you're highness.”

“Is that AC unit clear on my instructions?”

“It'll come through, highness. I've never known that droid to fail a directive.  Stubborn little thing.”

“Stubborn is exactly what we need right now,” Gaheris murmured.  “Well, captain, it's been a pleasure.”

“An honor, highness.”

Gaheris turned the commlink off and removed it from his ear.  He placed the device on his desk and then moved his hand over a small disc.  It was all that remained of the transmission they had received from Cywyllog and her team.  All logs of the transmission had been deleted from the ship's computer.  Gaheris had the only copy of the technical plans of this weapon outside the Empire. Their only hope.

His gaze turned to the Caliburn swords resting on his bed. Well, not their only hope.  Not if you believed in ancient prophecies.  And Gaheris did.  He had to.

An explosion rocked the ship.  Gaheris stumbled and fell to the ground.  He quickly scrambled to his feet, tucked the disc into his belt and wrapped the Caliburn hilts up in a blanket.  He had to get to that AC unit before the storm troopers boarded the ship.

Notes:

Caliburn is another name for Excalibur. I decided to use it here as the type of sword Excalibur is.

Lothian is one of the kingdoms that rebelled against Arthur after he was crowned king. It made sense to me to allow the country to keep its rebel roots and take the place of Alderaan in the story.

Leia's character was one I went back and forth on before eventually deciding on Gaheris. But my reasons are tied to my use of the Beaumains story, which I'll get into later.

Chapter Text

The droid D-NDN, or Dinadan as he was often called by children too young to make out all those letters, had not been built for adventure.  He was a BARD unit—designed for childcare and storytelling.  Activities that had been designed to be performed in a comfortable—stable!—room that wasn't on the verge of being blown up.

Another explosion rocked the ship.  Dinadan stumbled, but internal stabilizers kept the droid from falling.  Which was good, because a fall would have cracked his outer casing.  His outer casing was made of a flexible glass material that was sturdy enough, but one never could be too careful.  As one of his primary directives was the education of children on a human planet, Dinadan's electrical components were designed to look and act as much like a human's as possible, although he could rearrange them as needed to replicate the internal arrangement of any biped species.  While his glass casing was see-through, Dinadan often used his internal lighting system (installed so he could use colorful lights to match his storytelling) to mask the view of his internal components.  Right now he was using orange lighting.  Although, if the situation grew any more dire, Dinadan would change to white and try to blend in with the walls.

There was another explosion.  This one didn't rock the ship, but it was followed by the horrible, awful sound of electrical equipment powering down.

“That's it.  That was the main reactor. We're dead.”

Dinadan's companion, the small astromech droid AC-LN, didn't answer.  AC-LN had never been one to chatter, but in this case Dinadan was certain it was guilt.  After all, it was AC-LN's fault he was in this mess.  Dinadan was a BARD droid.  He was supposed to keep his feet firmly planted on solid ground and teach children or tell stories.  He was not supposed to be gallivanting off on some half-cocked adventure that was going to turn him into stardust.  Space Opera was AC-LN's game, not Dinadan's.  Yet for some reason the humans of Lothian considered himself and AC-LN to be a pair.  Where the astromech droid went, the BARD droid went as well.

And now they were heading right towards being scrap pieces floating in space.

“What was his highness thinking?  Traveling through restricted territory like that?  Surely he knew the Imperial Fleet would never stand for it.”

AC-LN let loose a mixture of buzzes, low whistles and clicks.  Dinadan's programming translated the noises as the astromech spoke: “What would you know of the prince's mindset?”

“Using my catalog of several billion epic tales, myths and other stories, I have determined the character archetype that best fits Prince Gaheris' actions.  And traveling through restricted territory is an action such an archetype would never take if he or she was in the right state of mind.”

AC-LN made a noise Dinadan's programming didn't recognize.  Sometimes the BARD droid was certain the astromech was making its own language just so Dinadan wouldn't be able to understand it.

They were odd mechanical creations, these astromech droids.  Made up of four thin poles about the length of a human forearm all attached to a spherical center twice the size of a man's head.  The droids had been designed for in motion repairs of any sort of spaceship imaginable.  The four arms had a full range of motion around the spherical body and had access to an insurmountable number of tools housed in the round form.  Along with a hand with four fingers and a full range of motion, each arm also had a hook, magnet, and wheels so the droid could move about easily and attach to a ship's hull in any number of ways.

Currently AC-LN was using three of its legs to roll across the smooth hallway of the ship.  The fourth arm was drawn up close to its body.  A small telescope had popped out of the top of AC-LN's round body so it could see infrared imagery, although the astromech didn't need to do that as sensors in its limbs would have kept it from running into anything or anyone.

A loud boom echoed through the hallways.  Dinadan looked up—his internal lights changing from orange to white.  “What was that?”

“Keep moving,” AC-LN said as it continued to wheel down the hallway.  Dinadan didn't move.  He kept his gaze on the ceiling, trying to discern what those noises were.  A moment later, there was a loud boom followed by lots of softer electrical screams.  Dinadan would recognize those sounds anywhere.  They were a critical part of his storyteller programing.

“A firefight!” he shrieked.  “We’re under attack!  We only spent a short amount of time in restricted space to do repairs!  Why are they attacking us!”  He finally looked down to see that his companion had left him behind.  “AC-LN!  Wait!  Wait for me!”

He shuffled after the astromech as fast as his joints would take him.  But AC-LN was too fast and too far away.  Dinadan didn’t know how he would catch the other droid if the astromech wouldn’t wait for him.

They were moving through the smaller hallways that wound through the middle of the ship.  Dinadan liked that.  He could hear the firefight going on in the main hallway—near the docking door if Dinadan was triangulating the sounds correctly.  But they were on the move.  Moving… closer!

“Wait!  AC-LN!  Wait!  You’re going the wrong way!”

He knew the astromech could hear him.  AC-LN had wonderful sensors that could pick up and distinguish just about every noise made on the ship.  It likely knew they were moving towards the firefight—had likely known long before Dinadan.  And yet it stubbornly kept moving forward.

Dinadan didn’t know if AC-LN had developed these thrill-seeking tendencies from decades of being at the center of attention or if it was programed into it.  Either way, Dinadan didn’t like it at all.

Far too soon, they were in sight of the main hallway.  All Dinadan could see were the red laser blasts flying back and forth through the opening.  AC-LN didn’t even hesitate.  Its fourth arm joined the other three on the ground as it lowered its round body as close to the floor as it could.  Then the little astromech crossed the main hallway into the next side branch, rolling right under the blaster fire.

“AC-LN!” Dinadan yelled as he was forced to pause at the entrance to the main hallway.  He couldn’t glide under the laser blasts like his companion could.  “AC-LN, wait!  Don’t leave me you worthless, selfish little thrill-seeker.”

He looked back and forth along the main hallway.  The small contingent of Imperial Stormtroopers, in their easily distinguishable white armor, were making short work of the cruise ship’s crew members.  It was a futile battle.  A few trained soldiers were allowed on board the ship to defend against smugglers or pirates.  But these were young men who, while trained, had never been in a real fight.  Against Imperial Stormtroopers, they didn’t stand a chance.

One or two got in a shot that took down a stormtrooper.  But far more bodies of the Lothians lined the floor than stormtroopers.  Soon the Lothians were retreating again and the stormtroopers were running after them.  Now that he had a clear path, Dinadan shuffled across the hallway, careful to avoid the bodies.

“AC-LN!  Where’d you go!” Dinadan shouted, looking around the dimly lit hall.  It led down to the escape pods.  It appeared that the area had lost power, except for the floor lights that directed passengers and crew members towards the pods.  AC-LN was nowhere in sight. 

“AC-LN!” Dinadan called again, turning in a full circle, and looking into the even smaller hallways that branched off from this one.  After nearly completing his circle, Dinadan finally caught sight of the astromech.  It was standing on all four of its legs and had completely extended them so it stood close to the height of a human.

A young human male stood next to AC-LN.  The man—likely Lothian considering the circumstances—didn’t appear to be part of the crew.  The white outfit he wore wasn’t anything like the black and blue uniforms of the crew-members.  Perhaps he was one of the ambassadors the ship was carrying?

The man, who had been speaking to AC-LN, turned to glance over his shoulder.  “Message complete,” the man said.  AC-LN buzzed and lowered itself down so it was half the height of the man.  “Come on.”

AC-LN switched back to three legs and rolled toward Dinadan.  The man followed the astromech, a hand on the blaster hanging on his belt.

“What’s going on?” Dinadan asked.  “I hope you have a good reason for leaving me like that.”

“Who’s this?” the man asked.

“Oh, excuse me sir.  I am D-NDN, BARD unit.  I’m also quite capable in—”

“Partner,” AC-LN buzzed.

“Don’t you dare speak such slander against me!” Dinadan snapped.

“We stay together,” AC-LN added.

“Fine, just go,” the man said.  “Get to the escape pod.”

“Escape pods?” Dinadan asked.  “What have you gotten us into now?”

“Secret mission,” AC-LN said.

“What nonsense,” Dinadan scoffed.

They arrived at the escape pods and the human opened the nearest remaining pod and waved the droids in.  “Go on.”

“Excuse me, sir, but droids aren’t allowed in the escape pods,” Dinadan said.

The man drew his blaster and turned on Dinanda in one swift motion.  “You can either get in the pod or I’ll blast you apart myself.  I can’t have anyone else on this ship knowing what happened to your partner.”

“Very good, sir,” Dinadan said, ducking down into the escape pod.

“You know what to do?” the man asked.

“Accident,” AC-LN buzzed.

“Accident,” Dinadan asked.  “What do you mean accident?  Accidentally setting off—”

The man reached around Dinadan and muted the BARD droid’s voice.  “You can turn him back on when you reach the planet.”

“Why?” AC-LN asked.

The man shushed the astromech and looked down the hallway they had come down.  Dinadan’s sensors were able to pick up the sound of footsteps coming their way.  Heavy footsteps that likely meant Imperial Stormtroopers.  Why wasn’t the man getting to the pod with them so they could leave before the stormtroopers arrived?

“There’s one!” a voice yelled.

“It’s the prince!  Set for stun!” another added.

The man—Prince Gaheris of Lothian if the stormtrooper was correct—turned and fired his blaster at the Imperial troops.  The stormtroopers returned fire.  Dinadan wanted to shout at AC-LN to blast them off, but of course he couldn’t.

“Don’t fire upon the next pod that jettisons,” Dinadan heard someone say despite the firefight.  “It could be the prince and Lord Ursus wants him alive.”

A blue stun blast struck the prince.  The man stumbled into the pod’s control panel.  That was when AC-LN jettisoned the escape pod.  The airlock slammed shut and the pod blasted off from the ship.  Through the small window of the pod, Dinadan watched the Lothian ship and the much larger Imperial Star Destroyer that had docked to it quickly spiraled away as the pod crashed towards the planet.

Crashed.

Dinadan wanted to ask AC-LN how rough their landing was going to be—his casing being delicate and all.  But of course he couldn’t.  And with the way things were going, Dinadan couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever speak again.

Notes:

I had a lot of options for C-3PO's character where the legend was concerned and I struggled to find the right fit. Lucan the Butler and Arthur's chamberlain Ulfius were the two big contenders, but in the end I kept coming back to the moment in Jedi where Threepio tells the Ewoks their story and decided to lean into the character being a bard instead of a protocol droid. Besides, there is probably no character in the legend more put upon than Sir Dinadan and that lined up with Threepio perfectly.

As for R2-D2, there was only Accolon. Sir Accolon is most well known for stealing Excalibur and bringing it to Morgan Le Fay and that lined right up with a droid who brings stolen plans to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Chapter Text

Gaheris tried to blink to make that white haze above him come back into focus.  But for the time being the stun had made it impossible for him to even manage that.  All he could do was lie on the ground and listen.

“No, we’ve got him.  Blow the pod.”

No, Gaheris thought.  All that work to make sure the plans and swords got down to the planet and the damn pod was going to be blown up anyway.

“No.  Never mind then.  Let it go.”

Hope filled him again as the Stormtroopers hauled Gaheris to his feet and cuffed his hands in front of him.  The pod must have gotten out of range before it could be fired upon.  The droids would make it to the planet and get a head start before anyone realized what he had done. 

Two of the Stormtroopers had to help Gaheris walk as they made their way down to the docking door.  By the time they arrived, the effects of the stun blast had worn off.  This was a relief, because Gaheris would have been humiliated if he’d had to appear before Darth Ursus while being unable to use his legs.

He was a perfect representation of the highly advanced technology that existed on the capital planet of Rome.  Having sustained some major injury at some point in his life, the entire left side of Ursus’ body had been replaced by robotics.  Although technology was such that Ursus could have easily hidden this, the Emperor’s bloodhound seemed to enjoy flaunting his robotics.  While the dark purple shirt and black pants hid the robot half of his chest and lower body, his arm, neck and face were clearly visible.  And the machinery, which could have been silent, whirled and hissed loudly with every move Ursus made.

He’d been a handsome man once—the right side of Ursus’ face proved that.  Although lined with age, Ursus’ face had a quality to it that drew people to him.  A face that promised victory in all endeavors, compassion in all settlements and the true trust and faith a leader had in his men.  When he had first arrived in Rome, Gaheris hadn’t believed any of the stories about Ursus until he had seen the man choke a senator with his mind for daring to disagree with him.

“My lord, the Prince of Lothian,” the lead Stormtrooper said. 

“Are you certain?” Ursus asked, turning to face Gaheris.  He wore a black cloak positioned so it covered his right side, making the robotic left all the more prominent.

Ursus reached out with his left hand and ripped apart the collar of Gaheris’ tunic, revealing the black dragon tattooed on his right shoulder.  It was a symbol of his mother’s people—the Tribes of Annwyn.  They traveled from planet to planet, sometimes settling, marrying and having a family.  Anyone who could trace their lineage back to the tribe was tattooed at birth, so that tribe members could always recognize each other.  That tattoo couldn’t transfer to a shape-shifter or a clone and couldn’t be copied by someone who didn’t have one or to anyone who wasn’t of the bloodline.  It was unique to the Annwyn.

It also allowed them to know each other.  Seeing the dragon on another person gave Gaheris the knowledge of who they were to him.  It was as though he could sense the blood connection between them and knew their relation, however distant. 

Gaheris had worked hard since joining the senate to keep the dragon concealed.  And it certainly wasn’t well known that his mother was Annwyn.—most simply believed her to be a former Lady of Cornwall.  So how had Ursus known about the dragon?  Was it because he had one of his own?  The way he was staring at Gaheris… it was as though he was trying to sense that blood connection.  Was it possible?  Could Ursus be Annwyn? 

“Are you planning on adding ‘assaulting a senator’ to your list of crimes today, Darth Ursus?” Gaheris asked, trying to draw the conversation away from him and his history. 

“It’s not a crime to assault a rebel spy,” Ursus said, shifting so Gaheris could only see his robotic half.

“Rebel spy?” Gaheris asked, widening his eyes.  “I think you’re experiencing a bit of a malfunction.  I’m on a diplomatic mission to provide aide—”

“Not this time,” Ursus said.  “You received a transmission from Colonge on your last drop out of hyperspace.  Information stolen by rebel spies and transmitted to you to deliver…where?  What have you done with the plans you intercepted?”

“Our last drop out of hyperspace was due to repairs.  We never received a transmission and if we had by accident, we certainly wouldn’t have held onto it.  Now, I demand to speak with the Senate Arms Committee to lodge a formal complaint against your conduct here.”

“Rebels spies and traitors have no rights to communicate with the Senate,” Ursus said.  “Only with me.  Take him away.”

One of the Stormtroopers shoved Gaheris in the direction of the Imperial Star Destroyer.  As he walked, Gaheris let out a low breath.  While he would have preferred to be on his way back to Lothian right now after having dropped off the plans and Caliburn swords with Morgan Le Fay, all things considered, Gaheris was willing to call this one a victory.

“Holding him is dangerous,” the captain of the Star Destroyer said once Prince Gaheris was out of sight.  “Lothian already holds too much sympathy within the Senate—their military disarmed, the blockade, their queen in exile, and three of their princes fighting for the rebellion.  To arrest the only prince with an allegiance to the planet and their senator could—”

“Enough,” Ursus said and the captain’s jaw snapped shut.  “Recovering the Death Star plans before the rebellion is far more important than the Senate’s politics.  Besides, placating the Senate will soon no longer be a concern of the Emperor.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Send a distress signal and then destroy the ship.  Inform the Senate all were killed in a mechanical malfunction.  That was their excuse for their last drop out of hyperspace.  We may as well put it to good use.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Lord Ursus,” one of his aides said, holding a readout pad that had the Lothian ship’s log compared with the Star Destroyer’s.  Ursus flipped through the information, making sure the actions of the Star Destroyer were appropriate reactions to those of the Lothian’s. 

“Why was an escape pod allowed to reach the planet?” Ursus asked.

“The gunners were ordered to hold fire because the Prince was trying to use the pod as a means to escape.  The escape pod jettisoned on accident and was out of range before the gunners were given the go to destroy it.  Neither the gunners nor the Stormtroopers thought it worthwhile to send the Tie Fighters after it.”

“And I suppose they never considered that Prince Gaheris had hidden the plans on the pod and was using his capture as a diversion?”

“Doubtful, my lord.”

“Send a detachment down to the planet to retrieve those plans.  And have those who decided against sending the Tie Fighters report to me.  They know better than to be so negligent.”

“Yes, my lord,” the aide said.  He nodded and walked back to the Star Destroyer.

Ursus turned to the nearest window and looked down at the planet below.  Cornwall.  Was it by chance the Lothian ship had dropped out of hyperspace here or had the rebels planned this rendezvous point?  And if this was a rendezvous point, had its selection been by chance or was it her choice?  Did Prince Gaheris know of his family’s ties to Cornwall?  Did the foolish boy realize the significance of this planet or had she kept it from him?

“My lord?” the captain asked.

“We’ll be returning to the Death Star with Prince Gaheris,” Ursus said.  “It’s better suited for the interrogation his highness is to endure.”

“You think he’ll give up the location of the rebel base?”

“No.  But that’s no reason not to try,” Ursus said, turning around to return to the Star Destroyer.

Chapter Text

Sunset was the best time for catching aspidochelones.  At least the small ones.  No one in their right mind would go after a full grown aspidochelone.  The fish could grow as large as a small island and there wasn’t much in the universe that could pierce their hard exoskeleton.  The aspidochelones were only vulnerable during their molt or when they were young and small.  And flying. 

Morgause Luwddoc watched with interest as her son and nephew went about harvesting the aspidochelones.  Two tiny bait droids were situated just beneath the water, buzzing around noisily and disturbing aspidochelone’s feeding ground.  Upset, the fish would jump out of the water and fly a few meters through the air before diving back beneath the water.  At this point in their young lives, the aspidochelones were small enough and light enough, with their fins so much disproportionately larger than their bodies, that they would jump and fly at the first sign of trouble under the water.  But just because they were light didn’t mean their exoskeleton was any less impressive than their larger selves.  Energy blasts bounced harmlessly off their hard shells and most sharp surfaces couldn’t penetrate.  The only way to catch these fish was to shoot a metal bolt into their unprotected sides.  Because their large fins were also protected by the exoskeleton, the only time their sides were exposed was when they were flying.  It was a tough shot.  Not many fishermen were willing to try harvesting the aspidochelones because of this.

But Morgause had been born and raised on Cornwall.  Her father had taught her and her sister how to catch aspridochelones and she had passed that knowledge onto her sons and nephew.  The aspidochelones fetched the best price of any fish on the planet.  Harvesting them was the best way to make a living. 

Her son, Agravain, and nephew, Mordred, were on hover bikes, zooming over the water as the aspidochelones jumped into the air.  The bikes were mounted with a projectile gun that shot out a spike connected to a ball bearing.  The spike would lodge into the fish if the boys made their shot and the ball bearing would keep the fish from going too far.  A second set of hover crafts, piloted by droids, also flew over the water.  These crafts were mounted with magnets and collected the ball bearings and spikes—whether they had snagged a fish or not.

Mordred was the better fisherman—at least in this.  He had better reflexes on the bike and was a better shot.  More importantly, he knew instinctively which fish were in his ability to catch.  That was why nearly every shot he made took down an aspidochelones.  Agravain was a 50/50 shot.  Which of course wasn’t bad (most fishermen weren’t nearly so lucky).

With two such astute fishermen, the harvesting of the aspidochelones was the primary source of income for the small family.  Fishing was the primary source of income and food for most families as Cornwall was a small planet composed of tiny islands spread out across the vast ocean.  The largest land mass was Cornasin, where King Mark  tried to rule the planet with an iron fist.  His power had been undisputed until about twenty years ago when a gang lord known as Ironside constructed a massive mechanical station out on the open waters.  Ever since, Ironside had wielded as much power on Cornwall as Mark did and was shown as much deference by her citizens.  The power struggle between the two had proven costly. 

But not for Tintagel, the island fortress where Morgause and her siblings had been raised and where she had raised her sons and nephew.  Tintagel was the most well-fortified homestead on Cornwall, safe from Mark, Ironside, and the more immediate threat of the merfolk. 

At the thought of the merfolk, Morgause lowered her rifle and pressed a few buttons on a control pod on her belt.  The control unit summoned the bait and harvest droids back to the boat.  The boys, seeing that they were alone in the water, returned as well.

“Bit early to be calling it a day,” Agravain said once he had pulled his hover bike up against the side of the boat.

“Nonsense,” Morgause said, grabbing the edge of the bike and holding it against the boat.  Agravain powered the bike down and jumped onto the deck to help Morgause latch the bike to the boat.  Since he was so much stronger than her—tall with broad shoulders—Morgause let him do most of the work.  “It’s getting dark.  The merfolk will start hunting soon.

“We could have continued for another half hour at least.”

“We have a sizable catch.  No sense in getting greedy and risking our lives.”

They finished with the bike and Agravain stripped off his helmet, shaking out his sweat soaked brown hair.  After wiping his face on a towel, he moved to latching the two droid crafts to the boat while Morgause went to help Mordred with his bike.

“Fair hunting,” Morgause said.  Mordred pulled his helmet off first and tossed it to Morgause.  She passed him a towel so he could wipe down his face.  Unlike Agravain, who was all Lothian with his large frame, freckled face and red tinged hair, Mordred had much more in common with Morgause.  They shared the same dark hair, fair skin, and a lithe but sturdy build. 

“Thanks,” the young man said, jumping onto the deck and helping Morgause latch up the bike.

“Show off!” Agravain yelled.

“It's hardly my fault you’re only a mediocre fisherman,” Mordred said.  “I’m certainly not going to pretend to be less and keep us from valuable resources just so you can feel better.”

“Oh.  I’m going to thump you well and good for that one,” Agravain said.  He had finished with the droid’s crafts and started towards Mordred.

Morgause stepped between them.  “Hold that thought till we get back to Tintagel.  If we’re attacked by the merfolk while you two are tussling, I will toss you both overboard.  Understood?”

“I’ll get you,” Agravain said.  They both went to make sure the bait crafts were secure before taking up two of the rifles and positioning themselves at the rear of the boat.  They kept their eyes on the water as Morgause piloted the ship back to the Tintagel. 

The island was a tall plateau that rose formidably out of the water.  The family fortress sat majestically atop it.  A shield encircled the entire rocky area—protecting the fortress from any who would do it harm.  As they neared one of the caves that were scattered throughout the plateau, Morgause lowered the shield and piloted the ship into the cave they used to house their ship, equipment, and fishery.

They went to work once Morgause had powered down the boat.  They put the aspidochelones on ice and cleaned the bikes and droids.  Once everything was in its place the three took the lift up to through the cliff face and into the fortress.  Agravain stepped out of the lift first.  He came to an abrupt stop and Mordred nearly ran into him.

“What is it?” Morgause asked, stepping out of the lift.  She looked to the sky where an Imperial Star Destroyer was making short work of a cruise vessel.

“What’s the Imperial Fleet doing way out here?” Mordred asked.

“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” Agravain said.

“Come along,” Morgause said.  “Best we get inside.”

“Are we in danger?” Mordred asked. 

“Terrible danger,” Agravain said.  “Haven’t you heard of the Empire’s dastardly plot to execute all fishermen?”

Mordred gave Agravain a shove and the thumping Agravain had promised back on the ship finally occurred.  Mordred was quick on his feet, but Agravain towered over him and was well versed in his younger cousin’s tricks.

“Enough,” Morgause said.  “In danger or not, I’d feel better if we were indoors.”

Once inside the fortress, the three set to work on fixing supper.  Morgause’s youngest boys had left Cornwall five years ago to explore the galaxy.  For five years it had just been her, Agravain and Mordred.  They had learned to do a lot of things on their own after the twins left.  They had created a routine that they had no trouble slipping into whenever there was work to be done.

They spent their meal talking about droids.  A gnome ship would be coming to Tintagel tomorrow and the three debated whether they needed any more help.

“We need a translator,” Agravain said firmly after Morgause made it known she had no desire to deal with those pesky creatures.  “There’s no way around it.”

“We’ve needed a translator for months,” Morgause said.  “So far the gnomes have been unable to provide.”

“They’re coming directly from Cornasin this time.  It’ll be better pickings.”

“We could also use a repair droid,” Mordred said.  “Our ZM unit won’t do much good in a merfolk attack.  It’s not familiar enough with the shield generator.  It can’t perform repairs without one of us supervising.”

“Again, the gnomes aren’t likely to provide anything better.  It would be more useful to go to Cornasin or the Red Station if we were serious about either of these needs.”

Neither young man had a response to that.  Aside from fishing, the family didn’t leave Tintagel.  There was no reason to go to Cornasin or the Red Station.  More than enough travelers came to Tintagel to trade.  And if there wasn’t a reason to go to the largest ports on Cornwall, the smaller ones certainly didn’t have anything to offer.  And Cornasin and the Red Station were dangerous.  A person was more likely to have all their possessions stolen than come away with whatever they were trying to buy.

“Still,” Agravain finally said.  “It’s worth looking.”

“Then you and Mordred meet with them,” Morgause said.  “I can’t abide those creatures.”

After they cleared the table and washed the dishes, Morgause stepped out on to the fortress ramparts to watch the sky.  Both ships were gone, and she didn’t want to think about what had happened to the cruiser.  After a few minutes of watching the stars, searching for life out in the coldness of space, she pulled her locket out from under her tunic and opened it. 

The locket was the prized possession of the Annwyn people.  For a tribe of nomads there was a need to remember the people they met who would forever grace their heart.  Family, lovers, dear friends—a lock of hair from these was kept within the locket.  To ensure that those loved and lost would forever be with them.

Morgause flipped through the thin sheets of glass in the locket until she came to her husband’s hair.  It was bright red, like those of her boys except Agravain.  Was Lot’s hair still red, she wondered, or had it all gone gray?  She hadn’t seen Lot in nearly twenty years.  It was so hard to imagine her husband as old.

“I may not know a Star Destroyer from a freighter,” Agravain said as he joined her on the ramparts.  “But I know a Lothian ship when I see one.”  Morgause looked over her shoulder to make sure Mordred wasn’t also coming up to the ramparts.  “He’s shutting down the droids.”

“It was the Gringolet,” Morgause said.  Even in the dim light, she saw Agravain’s brow furrow.  It had been twenty years and he had been a child the last time anyone uttered that name in his presence.  But he remembered.  He remembered his father’s ship.    

“Father?”

“No.  He’s still on Lothian.”  She had been able to sense Lot since they day they met.  It was the same with her boys.  “It was Gaheris.”

“Did they destroy the ship?”

“They did.”

“Gaheris?” Agravain asked and Moraguse studied his face.  He was her bear.  The child who had stood beside her through everything—even as his brothers had gone on to explore the galaxy.  Gawain, Gaheris, and Gareth may have gone on to fight in the rebellion, but her bear was braver than any of them.  It took a special kind of courage to stay behind when all others were moving forward.

“He lives,” Morgause said.  And it broke her heart to think of Gaheris being held prisoner by the Imperials.  What awaited him…

“Why would he come here?”

“I don’t know,” Morgause said, but she couldn’t help looking towards the droid housing building.  Mordred was only nineteen—a year too young to leave Tintagel and join his cousins in the rebellion (at least by Morgause’s rules).  But if things were going badly—if the rebellion was desperate—Isolde would defy her. 

“What do we do?” Agravain asked.  “Should we try to contact the rebellion?  Get off planet before the Empire realizes Gaheris may have been on his way here?”

“We wait,” Morgause said.

“What?”

“Something is coming.  Something important.  We need to be here when it arrives.”

“And if the Imperials arrive first?” Agravain asked.

“I have been prepared for that possibility since we came here,” Morgause said.  “Tintagel will hold.  This fortress is impenetrable.”

“That’s not going to do you-know-who much good in completing his you-know-what,” Agravain said.

“No, I suppose not,” Morgause said.  “But the path is clear to me, my bear.  I must wait here.”

“I understand,” Agravain said.

“Perhaps you should take Mordred to Cornasin and find a transport.  It should be easy for you to contact Gawain and—”

“No,” Agravain said, taking her hands.  “I’ll stand beside you, as I always have.  But Mordred…”

“No.  I’ll not send him off on his own.  Not yet.”

“Very well,” Agravain said, kissing one of her hands.  “Are you coming in?”

“In a moment.”

Agravain nodded and retreated back into the fortress.  Morgause looked back at her locket.  How she missed her husband.  She remembered those early days in Lothian.  After their marriage—when she had been pregnant with their first child.  Back before ancient prophecies had so corrupted her life, and everything had gone so wrong.

She could see the path clearly.  Lot wouldn’t be long for this life and her only consolation was that she would be there to greet him when he crossed over into the next.

Notes:

Tintagel is the home of Duke Gorlois and his wife Igraine, the parents of Morgause and Morgan Le Fay.  Uther attacked Tintagel after he fell into lust with Igraine, eventually convincing Merlin to make him look like Gorlois so he could have one night with Igraine.  While it is a one and done location in the legend, it is also where Arthur's story starts, which is why I felt like it worked well for Tatooine.  

In some versions of the legend, after Mordred is set adrift in the May Day Massacre, he is found and raised by a fisherman and his wife.  I decided to merge that aspect with the ones where he is returned to Morgause by having the family fish for a living.  

Technically Gringolet is Gawain's horse, not Lot's, but it seemed worth shuffling around so I could use the name here.  

Ironside as Jabba is something I'll get into a little later.

Chapter Text

The landing on the planet was very rough, but fortunately for Dinadan his casing didn't crack.  AC-LN popped out of the escape pod first, hovering above the ground as Dinadan stumbled out of the pod and into the darkness of the night.  His lenses automatically corrected to night vision to compensate.

Once he was certain that the ground was stable under him, Dinadan looked around, allowing his sensors to take in his surroundings because there was only so much night vision could do.  They had crashed on a rocky land mass sparsely populated with a few shrubs and insects.  They had escaped being melted down and scrapped into parts in exchange for a slow death through loss of power and rusting.

“Follow,” AC-LN buzzed, flying off over the rocks.

“Wait!  Not so fast!” Dinadan shouted, but of course his voice was muted so AC-LN couldn't hear him.  Dinadan moved as fast as he could—which wasn't very fast at all.  He wasn't designed to go tumbling about on a rocky terrain.  This was almost as bad as being on a spaceship!

After several very agonizing minutes, Dinadan joined AC-LN on a shoreline.  An endless ocean stretched out before.  AC-LN was swaying back and forth over the water and seemed unable to make up its mind about something.

“Goodness, whatever will we do now?” Dinadan asked, but of course no sound meant AC-LN couldn't answer.  That didn't stop Dinadan from talking, though.  He was a BARD droid.  He liked to talk—even if no one could hear him.  “We can’t go back over the rocks!  My joints won’t hold up!”

“Partner,” AC-LN buzzed, turning to face Dinadan.

“Oh no we’re not,” Dinadan retorted.

“Sorry,” AC-LN said, reaching out to turn Dinadan’s voice back on.  “Miss you,” the astromech added before zooming off over the ocean at a speed Dinadan couldn't hope to match even if he could enter the water without short circuiting.

“Wait!  AC-LN!  Come back!  You can’t leave me like this!” Dinadan shrieked now that he could really yell.

“Secret mission!” he heard AC-LN buzz over the roar of the ocean.  “Sorry!  Miss you!”

“No!  Wait!  AC-LN!  You worthless tin-can!  How dare you drag me into this mess and then leave me here to die!  AC-LN!  Come back!  Come back!”

AC-LN flew over the water in the direction of the coordinates Prince Gaheris had given it.  It felt bad about leaving Dinadan—it really did.  The two droids had been partners forever and the realization that it might not see Dinadan again made it’s gears feel rusty.  But it had been given a directive by Prince Gaheris.  AC-LN prided itself on never failing a directive.  Even if it meant leaving its partner behind.

It was cheered by the knowledge that it was on its way to visit Morgan le Fay.  AC-LN missed Morgan le Fay.  Adventures with her were always more exciting.

AC-LN was hours out from the small island where it had left Dinadan when it detected the sound of another ship.  AC-LN adjusted its sensors to identify the ship.  Its was a whirligig—a propeller based ship with a flat, open-air body.  Primary transport of gnomes—the land dwelling, indigenous species of Cornwall.

AC-LN slowed as it kept its sensors trained on the whirligig.  The ship passed over it—casting a shadow over the ocean as it drifted between AC-LN and the rising sun.  Sensors detected hundreds of gnomes moving about the ship.  The astromech’s sensors could even pick up each individual conversation on the ship, but its translator wasn't sophisticated  enough to include gnomish.

The astromech considered lowering itself closer to the water to disguise its signature from the whirligig.  But AC-LN’s sensors also detected merfolk—one of the many underwater indigenous species of Cornwall—just below the surface.  AC-LN did not want to get within grabbing range of those creatures.

The droid was still calculating the best course of action when the whirligig fired an electrical shot—overloading AC-LN’s systems and causing an automatic reboot.

When the system reboot completed and AC-LN’s systems powered back on, the astromech found itself in a dark room filled with several other droids.  It’s sensors whirled as it tried to determine where it was.  It detected the gnomes above it and water far below.  The sound of the whirligig's propeller mixed in with the chatter of the gnomes and other droids.

AC-LN dropped three limbs from its body and rose up so it was two feet tall.  It rolled across the floor, sensors taking in and identifying the other droids in the room.  They were a ragtag group—most only a few hours away from a severe malfunction.

There was an open door across the room and AC-LN made its way towards it.  About a foot away from the door, AC-LN froze as an auxiliary source caused a small system overload.  Once the quick reboot was completed, AC-LN tried again to move forward and was again hit by a system overlord.  Sensors indicated some sort of restraining device bolted to its outer casing.  This device was overloading its systems every time it tried to leave the room.  There was no getting out until the gnomes allowed it.

AC-LN backed away from the door and continued to move around the room, making sure its sensors analyzed all of the other droids carefully.  It was well aware that if it had been caught, Dinadan hadn't stood a chance.

“AC!” the familiar voice asked right as AC-LN’s sensors picked up on Dinadan.

“Friend!” the astromech chirped.

“You!” Dinadan yelled, whacking a hand on top of AC-LN’s hull.  “How dare you leave me in the middle of nowhere like that!  I could have fallen and broken my outer casing!  I could have been captured by fiends!  Broken down and sold for parts!”

“And you still could be!” AC-LN said cheerfully, earning itself another whack from Dinadan.

Sensors indicated that they rode on the whirligig throughout the morning.  While there were no windows in the room they were in, AC-LN's internal clock had continued running despite the reboot.  The astromech knew exactly how long it had been since the gnomes had captured it.  Calculating that against how long it took Cornwall to rotate along its axis and how far along in the rotation the planet had been when AC-LN had been captured brought about the conclusion that they had been traveling all morning and that it was early afternoon when the whirligig finally came to a halt.

“What now?” Dinadan asked.

“Don't know,” AC-LN chirped.

“This is it, isn't it?” Dinadan asked.  “We're to be melted down or scrapped for parts.  It's the end of us, AC.  I'm glad we're going out together.”

“Your simulated fear has always made these adventures more exciting,” AC-LN said, figuring that Dinadan deserved to hear something nice about his programming if this really was about to be the end of them.  If only so the BARD droid could feel some sense of simulated comfort.

Gnomes appeared in the open doorway and motioned to the droids, speaking so fast that AC-LN, if he'd had the capability to translate, would have had to play back a recording of their words at a much slower rate in order to understand.  Dinadan seemed to have no trouble, though, and motioned to AC-LN that they were to follow the other droids out of the room.

AC-LN rolled along after the other droids, trying to stay in the middle of the pack.  It didn't want to draw any attention to itself right now.  It would be easier to escape once outside the whirligig than if he were trapped inside it.

Besides, with all the fuss Dinadan was making, AC-LN was pretty sure that the gnomes wouldn't be paying any attention to him. 

Chapter Text

“Mordred!  Agravain!"

Both young men paused at the lift and looked back at the fortress ramparts.  Morgause stood there, holding a bundle of cloaks in her arms.  She beckoned to them and Agravain gave Mordred a shove out of the lift.  He ran up to the wall, stopping right as his aunt dropped the bundle.  He caught one cloak and had to pick the other up off the wet ground. 

“Make sure Agravain doesn’t purchase a translator if it can’t be directly interfaced with the boats,” Morgause said.

“That will be impossible to find!” Mordred protested.

“A translator by itself isn’t worth the price.  I want it to be able to work with the equipment as well,” Morgause said.  “And put that cloak on before you catch your death.”

Mordred pulled a cloak—the dry one—on as he jogged back to the lift.  He tossed the wet one at Agravain.  “Aunt Morgause wants you to stay warm.”

“This is all wet,” Agravain said and Mordred hugged his dry cloak closer.  “You think she’s going to watch us?”

“She said not to buy a translator if it couldn’t interface with the boats.”

“Give me that cloak,” Agravain said, tugging at the garment.  Mordred held it more tightly.

“No.”

“Come on.  She’ll raise hell if she doesn’t see me wearing it,” Agravain said.  “And you dropped this one, so you should have to wear it.”

“You made me go get the cloaks,” Mordred said.  “You have to take what I give you.”

Agravain made another grab for the cloak, but Mordred wouldn’t let it go.  The lift door opened before the rough housing could begin in earnest.  Growling, Agravain threw the wet cloak over his shoulders and stepped out of the lift as several gnomes grabbed him by the arms and pulled him along to where the droids were lined up on the dock.  Mordred trailed along behind, glancing at the droids while trying to look disinterested.  He didn’t want the gnomes accosting him the way they were Agravain.

To his surprise, there were two AC units up for sale.  The gnomes rarely had even one AC unit.  Two was practically a miracle.  No way they could pass this by.  Either droid would be more than competent in handling droid repairs. 

Agravain knelt down in front of the two units and looked them over.  From what Mordred could see, one, a blue one, appeared to be in better cosmetic condition.  The maroon one had all sorts of charred scoring and dents in its hull.  Mordred wasn’t at all surprised when Agravain picked the blue one and motioned for Mordred to check it. 

As Agravain stood to look over the other droids, Mordred took his place in front of the blue mech.  He plugged in a small computer into the droid to ensure its software wasn’t fragmented.  The test had just finished running and confirmed the droid’s software to be intact when he heard Agravain laugh. 

“Dred, come here and look at this!”

Mordred jumped to his feet and jogged over to his cousin.  Agravain was standing in front of a humanoid droid with a clear casing but with gray lighting to hide its internal system.

“Look!  It’s a BARD droid!” Agravain said.

“A what?”

“A BARD droid.  You know, from back on—no, you don’t.  Do you?”  Mordred rolled his eyes.  Agravain had been on Lothian for the first eight years of his life and sometimes forgot that Mordred had been raised entirely on Cornwall.  “They tell stories.  Epic legends, histories, myths—you name it.  From every planet and culture imaginable.”

“Great.  Real useful in a family of fishermen,” Mordred said.  “I don’t see a translator.  So buy the astromech and let’s go.”

“Translator?” the BARD droid asked.  “Sir, as part of my programming I know every language connected to every culture whose tale I possess along with all forms of droid and machinery communication.  I could very easily do translator work if that was required of me.”

“That could work,” Agravain said. 

“Except Aunt Morgause doesn’t want a translator that can’t be interfaced with the boats.”

“Transport interface is one of my primary functions,” the BARD droid said.  “I am required to constantly accumulate new tales and there is no better way to do so that to hear these tales from the ships themselves.”

“Quite the salesman,” Mordred said, looking over the BARD droid with newfound respect.

“You seem familiar,” Agravain said to the droid.  “Have we met?”

“I don’t recognize you, sir,” the BARD replied.

“Well, you would be the expert,” Agravain said.  He looked at Mordred.  “We good?

“I’m satisfied,” Mordred said.  “But you get to explain to Aunt Morgause if she isn’t.”

“She’ll love it.  You watch,” Agravain said.  He motioned to the BARD droid and the blue AC unit.  “We’ll take these two.  How much?”  One of the gnomes mumbled a price but Mordred couldn’t make it out as he was already leading the two droids back to Tintagel.  But he did hear Agravain’s loud response of “Ah, no.  Try again.”

“Thank you so much for the purchase, sir,” the BARD droid was saying as they made their way to the main lift.  “I do so appreciate it.  I thought for certain I was going to melted down for parts or—”  The BARD droid stopped talking abruptly as the blue AC unit dropped to the ground.  Mordred sighed as he knelt down next to it.  Incomplete mechanics, if he were to hazard a guess.  For as good as it looked on the outside, Mordred very much doubted that he would find much if he were to open the droid’s hull.  

Mordred brought his fingers to his lips and let loose a sharp whistle.  Agravain stopped mid haggle and turned to see the broken droid.  His faced turned red as he turned back to the gnomes and let them have it.  That was the risk when it came to buying from the gnomes.  Sometimes the units only had enough in them to make it up the lift into the fortress.  The family had more than enough resources to handle most repairs that the droids came in need of.  But they still weren’t going to buy a droid in as poor a shape as this one. 

“Do you still require an astromech, sir?” the BARD droid said.  “Because if you are, that maroon unit is in top condition.”  Mordred glanced at the other astromech.  The one with more dents and scorches than Mordred thought possible for one little droid to suffer and still function.  He looked back up at the BARD unit and his disbelief must have been obvious.  Even for a droid.  “I know it doesn’t look like much, but I’ve worked with that unit for years.  There’s no finer, sir.  I assure you.”

“Agravain!” Mordred yelled and his cousin turned back around.  “Buy the other one.”

“What?” Agravain yelled.  Mordred shrugged and motioned to the BARD droid with his head.  Agravain turned back to the gnomes and Mordred could hear his cousin yelling.  “Fine, that one.  But I’m not paying much of anything for it because it looks like a breeze will knock it apart.  And I still want a decent discount on the BARD.”

Mordred motioned to the maroon astromech and beckoned for it to join them.  The droid rolled forward to join them by the lift where Mordred decided it was best to wait for Agravain in case either of these droids started to malfunction.  A handful of gnomes raced forward to collect the blue astromech and bring it back to their whirligig.  A few minutes later Agravain finally stomped over to the lift.  Growling and muttering to himself, he herded Mordred and the two droids into the lift.  When the doors had closed and they were on their way up to the fortress, Agravain laughed as a large grin broke out on his face.

“Ho boy!  What timing that was!  Best deal I’ve ever gotten out of them!”

“Only good if the droids are working,” Mordred said. 

“Aw, have a little faith, Dred,” Agravain said.  “Tonight we’re going to enjoy an epic legend over dinner.  You watch.  It’ll be amazing.  Best show a backwater brat like you has ever seen.”

The lift door opened and the two young men led the droids into the droid housing building where they would put the droids through cleaning, a more comprehensive check for software fragmentation and see to any parts replacement.  Agravain immediately set to work on giving the new BARD unit in an oil flushing while Mordred checked over the inner mechanics of the astromech.

“This is divine, sirs, simply divine,” the BARD droid was saying once Agravain had finished plugging in the flushing tubes and turned it on.  “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since we’ve received this level of basic maintenance.”

“Well, you look it,” Agravain said, going over to the computer console.  “Can I get your designation?”

“Certainly, sir.  I am D-NDN.  Previous owners have referred to me as Dinadan as it is easier for young children to pronounce.  It’s up to you if you would prefer to use that or my designation.”

“Dinadan,” Agravain muttered as he entered the name and designation into the console.  “That sounds damn familiar.  You ever serve in the House of Luwddoc?”

“No, sir,” Dinadan said.  “My primary service has been on a transport ship.”

“This one is AC-LN,” Mordred added.  Agravain nodded and entered that information.

“Boys,” came Morgause’s voice over the intercom.  Since he was closest to it and Mordred was busy working on the astromech, Agravain made his way to the intercom and pressed the button to respond.

“What is it, mother?” he asked.

“I’m getting some odd energy fluctuations from the shield generator.  Did you purchase a droid capable of looking it over?”

“We did,” Agravain said.  “But Mordred and I are still working on getting them cleaned up and checked over.”

“Well, then one of you will need to go down and look over the shield.”

Mordred started to get to his feet but Agravain waved him back.  “I’ll go check.  You finish up with that one.  Since it will probably take you all night.”

“It’s in better shape than it looks,” Mordred said.

“I’ll believe that when I see it in action,” Agravain said as he left the droid hub.

“A shield generator, sir?” Dinadan asked. 

“A requirement if you’re going to live any sort of productive life on Cornwall,” Mordred said.  “With all the gang lords fighting over this planet, smugglers looking for places to lay low—add in the merfolk with all the unscrupulous characters trying to make a living here and you won’t last long without one.”

“Cornwall?  Is that the planet we’re on, sir?”

“It is,” Mordred said.  “And you can just call me Mordred.  The other man is my cousin, Agravain, and his mother, my Aunt Morgause, is the woman you heard over the intercom.  We’re fishermen, in case you were worried.  This fortress has been a part of my aunt’s family for generations.  Long before Cornwall became a home for criminals of all stripes.”

“That’s a relief to hear, sir,” Dinadan said.  “I have certainly had more than enough excitement in my lifetime.  Settling down in a peaceful fishery may just be the best thing that’s ever happen to me.”

“Looking at your friend here, I believe it,” Mordred said, his full attention on the astromech.  His visual inspection of the droid’s outer components was complete and he was satisfied that none of its outer system had taken any damage despite the poor shape of its hull.  He moved on now to opening up the droid’s hull to inspect its inner mechanics.  “So what happened to you, little guy?  This looks like blaster scoring.”

AC-LN let out several curt buzzes.  Dinadan sighed.

“Don’t be rude,” the BARD snapped.  “Please forgive it, sir.  The captain of our transport ship allowed it the run of the place.  I’m afraid this caused it to get a bit above itself.”

“Well, I don’t mind,” Mordred said.  “But I’d watch out for my Aunt Morgause if I were you.  She has little enough patience for droids as it is.” 

“Hear that?” Dinadan asked AC-LN.  “No one is going to put up with your nonsense anymore.”

With a sigh, Mordred sat back on his heels.  It had become apparent that the astromech’s hull was far too damaged for him to just pull open with his hands.  He would have to use the tools.  And then he would have to try and hammer the dents out in order to get it back on.  Agravain was right—he was going to be here all night.

“So are you two going to tell me what happened to you or am I going to have to guess?” Mordred asked, getting to feet and going over to the tool cabinet to pull out a chisel and a hammer. 

“It was dreadful.  Simply dreadful,” Dinadan explained as Mordred squatted back down next to AC-LN and positioned the chisel near one of the dents over where the droid’s hull opened.  “It was just supposed to a mission of diplomatic aide.  It went all wrong when the hyperdrive malfunctioned and dropped us out in restricted Imperial Space.  Prince Gaheris tried—”

“Gaheris?” Mordred asked, swinging his head around to look at the BARD droid.  At that same moment, something shot out of the astromech.  Trying to look at both units at once caused Mordred to lose his balance and he fell onto his side.  Lying on the ground, he found himself faced with a miniature hologram of one of his cousins.  Gaheris—the elder of the twins who had left Cornwall five years ago to join the rebellion.  But Dinadan had said their previous ship was a transport ship.  He’d made no mention of the rebellion.  The fine white uniform Gaheris was wearing in the hologram—so pristine it may as well have been new—certainly didn’t look like something one would find in the rebellion.  And Prince Gaheris?  What was going on?

“My ship has come under attack and I am unable to complete my mission,” the hologram of Gaheris was saying.  Then the hologram flickered and the message repeated.  And repeated.  And repeated and repeated and repeated and...

“Where did you get this?” Mordred finally managed to ask.  AC-LN let out a few whistles.

“What do you mean it’s an error?” Dinadan asked.  “I saw him creating the tail end of that message right before he bullied us onto the escape pod.”  Now AC-LN made a few low buzzes, but Mordred didn’t have time to worry about what the astromech was saying.  He stumbled to his feet and made his way to the intercom.

“Don’t get smart with me,” Dinadan said, although Mordred barely registered the words.  “Answer his question.  And with the truth this time.”

“Aunt Morgause!  Agravain!” Mordred yelled into intercom.  “Get up here!”

Dropping back against the wall, Mordred slowly slid to the ground as Gaheris’ message continued to repeat.  The firefight in the sky last night—that was the attack Gaheris spoke of.  But what was this mission?  And why was Gaheris back out here and dressed like that?  Was he bringing a message for his family?  But what message would lead to his capture by the Empire?  Unless he was still working for the rebels... but then why had Dinadan called him ‘Prince Gaheris’?  This didn’t make any sense.

Agravain was the first to arrive.  He looked at Mordred first, huddled against the wall, and then his head swung around and he found the hologram of his younger brother.  “Oh, Gaheris...” Agravain whispered.  He didn’t sound surprised to be seeing his brother dressed like that in a hologram talking about coming under attack.  Instead he sounded heartbroken—as though he had known this was coming but had believed he wouldn’t ever have to face it directly.  Mordred wondered how his cousin would react if he told him that Dinadan had called Gaheris a prince.  Mordred was willing to bet it wouldn’t be with surprise. 

Morgrause was in the droid housing building moments after Agravain.  Unlike her son, her eyes went first to the hologram.  She drew in a sharp breath, pressing a hand over her heart as she stumbled backwards into Agravain. 

“Mother?” he said, resting a hand on her shoulder.  Morgause straightened up and pulled away from him.

“Get out,” Morgause ordered.

“Get out?” Mordred repeated.  “You can’t just expect us to leave when Ga—”

“I said get out!” Morgause yelled, turning to face them.  Then she shut her eyes and drew in a deep breath.  “I left fish on the fire.  Please see to it.  I’d rather not have this fortress burn down from the inside.”

“Come on, Dred,” Agravain said, offering out his hands.  Mordred took them and let his cousin pull him to his feet.  Agravain slung an arm around his shoulder and maneuvered Mordred out of the droid housing building—not even giving Mordred the chance to look back.  But he did hear his Aunt Morgause shut the door and lock it behind them.

Once the door was shut and locked, Morgause let out a long sigh and slumped against the door.  It was finally happening.  After all these years of peace it was finally upon them.  It seems she had grown stupid in her exile from the galaxy.  She had foolishly believed that she could control this when she had learned better twenty years ago.  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to learn that she wasn’t going live to see this prophecy through to the end.  All things considered, she was damn lucky that she had managed on Cornwall for as long as she had.  She had given all her boys all the tools they would need to survive this.  Now all she could do for them was allow them as much of a head start as possible. 

Turning around, Morgause found that the astromech had ceased its hologram projection of Gaheris.  It was watching her.  Waiting for her to make the first move.  There was no doubt in Morgause’s mind that the droid had shown Mordred that little bit of Gaheris’ message in order to get her attention.  It knew exactly where it needed to be and the best way to get there.

“Excuse me, madam,” Dinadan started to say but he didn’t get anything else out as Morgause reached around his neck and, with years of practice, powered him down.  That just left her and the astromech.

“Hello Accolon,” Morgause said, using her sister’s nickname for the droid.  “Let me see them.”

Chapter Text

Upon arriving in the kitchen, Agravain plunked Mordred down at the table and shoved a glass of water in his hand.  That settled, he turned his attention to making sure their dinner didn’t burn.  No sense in letting Gaheris...

Agravain swallowed back the lump in his throat.  He couldn’t even think of any jokes about Gaheris right now without tearing up.  The elder of the twins wouldn’t have stood for that.  At least, he wouldn’t have the last time Agravain had seen him five years ago.  Gaheris had looked awfully formal in that Lothian senatorial uniform (Agravain was almost positive it was a senatorial uniform—he had strong memories of his father wearing that same outfit back when he had been Lothian’s senator).  Maybe his younger brother was no longer one for jokes or pranks.  That thought brought another lump to his throat. 

“I thought Gaheris had joined the rebellion with Gawain and Gareth,” Mordred said.  It took a lot of effort for Agravain to keep his shoulders from tensing.  And he didn’t dare turn around.  The problem here was that Mordred was smart.  It was impossible to know how much he had already figured out on his own.  The smart thing to do know would be to come clean and start telling the truth.  But after nineteen years of secrets, the lie came more easily to his lips.

“He did,” Agravain said, working to keep his voice steady.  “But, and this was the last I heard, he’d proven adept at spy work.  So he was moved into the service of the Lothian senator to help the rebellion from there.”

Mordred made no response and for a brief moment Agravain allowed himself to hope that this was the end of his cousin’s questions.

“The BARD unit said he was a prince,” Mordred finally said.

Agravain turned around slowly.  Mordred’s attention was on his cup.  Agravain waited—unwilling to speak this time until he knew what his young cousin was thinking.  Finally, Mordred looked up and his dark eyes met Agravain’s green ones.  Agravain understood the look Mordred was giving him all too well.  The lie was forgiven.  Mordred seemed to understand that Agravain was used to lying and it was a hard habit to kick.  But another lie would not be so easily forgiven.

“House of Luddowc,” Agravain said.  Mordred knew that his cousins had come from a wealthy house before their exile to Cornwall.  He just didn’t know how wealthy.  Or powerful.  “Royal house of Lothian.”

Mordred gave no visible reaction to that news and Agravain wondered how much more he should say and if it would do any good.  After waiting another few minutes in silence, Mordred’s attention returned to his cup.  That’s when the words started spilling from Agravain’s mouth.

“Look, it’s not like we lied to you about everything or even that we went into this with the intention of lying.  What you have to remember is that when we came out here, Gaheris and Gareth were only five.  I was eight and Gawain was nine.  It took a lot of work for mother to come up with something that was close enough to the truth to keep little kids from slipping up.  The only big difference is that our father’s the... you know... King of Lothian instead of just a noble.  And, well...we had to flee Lothian because mother’s always been a member of the rebellion.”

“Not because your father was so in debt that he was arrested and his family exiled from the planet?” Mordred asked dryly.  Agravain shook his head.  “And I suppose your father hasn’t spent the past twenty years in a Lothian prison either?”

“Last I heard he wasn’t allowed to leave the planet,” Agravain said.  “And was under a heavy imperial guard.  So, no.  Not prison. But something close.”

“You’re in contact with the rebellion?” Mordred asked and Agravain heard the accusation being leveled.

“No,” Agravain said.  “Mother is and sometimes she tells me what’s going on... Now don’t give me that look.  You know the rules she set down in this fortress.  Technically you aren’t even allowed to talk about the rebellion for another year.  I’m twenty-eight.  I’m entitled to whatever news she gives me.  Which... It really isn’t that much, Dred.  And this is the first I’ve heard about any of my brothers in a year or two.”

“How sad,” Mordred practically spat out.  “I haven’t heard anything about Gawain since he left nine years ago and this is the first I’ve heard about either of the twins since they left five years ago.  I didn’t even know Gaheris was... what?  He’s the Lothian senator, isn’t he?  What’d he’d have to do to keep the Empire from arresting him the moment he arrived on Lothian?”

“Publicly denounce the rebellion and his brothers who fought in it,” Agravain said.  “Give up mother’s location to the Empire.  The rebellion did a good job of making it look like he had told the truth on that one.  They watch him pretty closely, but I guess he’s been invaluable to the rebellion in that position.”

Mordred looked back down at his cup and after a moment he took a sip.  Then he put the cup down and rested his arms on the table.  “If you were eight when you first left Lothian... That would have been a year before I was born, right?”

“Yeah,” Agravain said.  “I suppose it must have been.”

“Was I born here, then?  Or did someone bring me?”

Agravain knew his cousin well enough to know that Mordred didn’t care about how he’d come to live in Tintagel.  This was a question about his mother—if Agravain remembered her living in Tintagel before Mordred had been born or if he remembered her bringing Mordred to Cornwall.  According to Morgause, there was a high likelihood that Mordred’s mother was still alive.  It was all the kid really had to hang onto as his father, Agravain’s uncle Arthur Pendragon, had died right before the Luddowc family had fled into exile.  Right at the beginning of the Emperor’s reign of terror.

“I’m sorry, Dred,” Agravain said.  “All I remember is that one day you were here.  Just a baby...and mother telling us that you were Uncle Arthur’s son.”

“The fish is burning,” Mordred said.

“What?”

“The fish.”  Mordred motioned to the grill behind Agravain.  The older cousin turned around and cursed at the amount smoke coming up off the grill.  He quickly moved the fish off the grill and onto a waiting plate.  Mordred got to up from the table and together the two cousins managed to scrape off and cut away the burned sections of the fish while still leaving a decent sized meal for the three of them.  Mordred then moved on to warm up some bread while Agravain cut up some fruit.  By the time Morgause returned to the kitchen not a half-hour later, the two young men had managed to put together a pretty presentable dinner.

“Thank you, boys,” she said, taking her seat at the head of the table.  “It looks wonderful.”

Agravain smiled knowing full well that she’d know that they burnt the fish after only taking one bite.  But since there was no way to tell her until she took that bite, he dug into his own food.  Of course Mordred was just sitting... waiting.  Agravain kicked him underneath the table.  Mordred glared at him but at least picked up his fork.  That was an improvement, even if he made no move to eat.

“You burnt the fish,” Morgause said right when Agravain had expected she would.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t burn down the fortress so consider that something,” Agravain muttered.

“What are we going to do about Gaheris?” Mordred asked.  Agravain kicked him again but his cousin didn’t pay him any mind.

“What he asked us,” Morgause said.  “That AC unit was charged with bringing some great matters of importance to your Aunt Morgan’s attention.  We are quite blessed that the droids came into our care first and didn’t end up elsewhere on Cornwall.”

“So that’s it?” Mordred asked.  “We’re just supposed to take the droids to Aunt Morgan?”

“Yes.  If both you and Agravain could do that first thing tomorrow morning I would quite appreciate it.”

“Of course, mother,” Agravain said.

“What about Gaheris?” Mordred demanded.

“Gaheris is very likely on his way to some sort of Imperial stronghold,” Morgause said. 

“You’re just giving up on him?”

“What would you have me do?”

“Contact the rebellion.  Tell them—”

“Enough!” Morgause ordered.  “I’ll not have you talking about the rebellion.  Not yet.  You’re too young, Mordred.”

“I’m nineteen.  I’m only a year away from being a part of this.”

“A year too young, clearly.  You don’t see the larger picture nor do you respect it.  Sacrifices have to be made.  Gaheris knew the risks when he decided to come here.  And yet he still chose to come.  The droids must be delivered to Morgan, Mordred.  Or else Gaheris’ sacrifice is in vain.”

“But why does it need to be a sacrifice?  Why couldn’t you...”

“No,” Morgause said.  “I’ll not risk contacting the rebellion for this.  Not when an Imperial Star Destroyer was so close only a day ago.”

“We should do something,” Mordred insisted.

“Then I wish you all the luck in the world,” Morgause said.  “But know that to leave here before you turn twenty means you leave without my blessing or support.  You don’t get to take one of my ships to Cornasin or the Red Station nor will Agravain or I take you.  You’ll go without money or resources.  See how far that takes you in your quest to rescue Gaheris.”

“Even with your support, I wouldn’t leave without your blessing,” Mordred said.  “I have so few family members left, I can’t really afford to walk away from them on a whim, can I?”  He pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

“Where’re you going?” Agravain asked. 

“To check the shield,” Mordred said.  “You couldn’t have had a chance to do a thorough job before I interrupted you.”

Agravain watched his cousin leave and then turned to his mother.  “You can’t just—”

“My bear, please,” Morgause said, pressing her face against her hands.

Agravain reached out to take her hand.  His mother was so strong—she was the one who had gotten them to Cornwall when the Empire took over Lothian.  She raised four sons and one nephew all alone in the backwaters of the galaxy with crime lords and merfolk waiting on the edge of her fortress.  Not once had Agravain ever seen her flinch in the face of adversity.  But now Gaheris was as good as dead and, if Agravain understood what the arrival of the droids meant, Mordred’s life was about to be turned upside down.  Outwardly, of course, his mother still hadn’t flinched, but on the inside she had to be reeling. 

“He’s going to find out sooner rather than later,” Agravain said.

“Yes, but the later he learns, the stronger he’ll be,” Morgause said.  “He’ll know his own mind.  He’ll know his strengths.  He’ll be able to make his own decisions and others won’t be able to manipulate him to their own ends.”

“You’re sure of that?” Agravain asked. 

“I’ve given you all the tools you’ll need to survive in this galaxy,” Morgause said.  “It’s up to you to decide how to use them.”

“All our choices now, huh?” Agravain asked, getting to his feet.  His thoughts were spinning and he found it left him without an appetite.  He took his plate and Mordred’s to the sink.  He cleaned the plates in silence as his mother finished her dinner.

Late that evening, after he had finished with the shield and his aunt and cousin had got off to bed, Mordred climbed up onto the fortress walls.  He took a seat and dangled his legs over the ledge. He kept his gaze on the rolling waves below him.  In the dim light he could just make out the flash of merfolk tails as they dove in and out of the water.  There was a crash in the distance—likely a large breaching aspidochelones.  Maybe even a pod of them.  Mordred had never seen any of the big ones up close.  Only at a distance.  Gawain and Agravain had bragged about a big one coming up to their boat during the fishing excursions they had often gone on alone when they were teenagers.  Gaheris had been so jealous.  He’d always wanted to get close to a big one but had never...

Mordred swallowed and looked down at his hands.  He couldn’t look up at the sky without being reminded of Gaheris and how he’d been captured and now it seemed it couldn’t look out at the ocean either.  A sharp reminded that he had lost one more member of his family due to this rebellion against the empire.  His father had died during the Emperor’s initial takeover and his mother had disappeared soon after (Aunt Morgause believed his mother to still be alive and Mordred held onto that hope fiercely).  And with his mother had gone any hope of knowing her family.  Aunt Morgan was distant and preferred to have little to do with her sister or nephews.  Gaheris was gone now too and Gawain and Gareth were fighting a war where they could be lost at any moment.  His family was so small and so at risk of growing smaller was so great that Mordred was almost afraid to face the next day. 

Chapter Text

The boat was gone the next morning when Morgause got down to the cave just after dawn.  At the sight of the empty dock, Morgause collapsed against the wall with a small cry.  For now, her boys were safe.  She had gotten them away from the immediate danger.  Whatever happened next, it was up to them to persevere.  It was up to her to cause the diversions that would allow them the chance to get as far ahead of the Empire as possible. 

“Mother!  Mother!  Are you alright?”

Morgause looked back up the stairs to see Agravain running towards her.

“I heard you cry!” Agravain said, taking Morgause’s outstretched hand.  “What’s wrong?  Are you hurt?”

“What are you still doing here?” Morgause asked.  “You were supposed to go with Mordred.”

“I got him off at dawn’s light,” Agravain said.  “But I’m staying here with you.”

“No,” Morgause said.  “Don’t you realize—”

“I do,” Agravain said.  “But I made a promise.  I’m your bear.  I will stand beside you no matter what the cost.  And believe me, mother.  I understand the cost of this choice.”

Morgause wrapped her arms around Agravain and held him tight.  For a moment she remembered so clearly when he was a little boy hugging at her skirts.  For a moment, she remembered them all as little boys. 

She stepped away from Agravain and wiped her hands over her eyes.  “There’s a bucket of droid parts down by the water.  Take one of the bikes in the opposite direction of Morgan’s home and drop the parts as you go.”

“Will I be back in time?” Agravain asked.

“If you wish to be here, you’ll make it back in more than enough time,” Morgause said. 

“I will be here,” Agravain promised, going down to the water.  Morgause watched him prep his bike for a moment before ascending the stairs.  She wrapped her hand tightly around her locket.  She hadn’t thought she would be able to do this—buying time had been the far more pressing issue.  But Agravain had gifted her the time she needed to do this.  It wasn’t much, but making sure Mordred always had something to tether him to what was important in this world—something his father had lacked—was all Morgause had left to give him.  And Agravain, her bear, had just sacrificed everything so Morgause could pass along this one last gift.

The sudden gurgling noise from the boat’s engine was more than enough to send Mordred into a panic.  He brought the boat to a stop, his hands wrapped so tightly around the controls his knuckles turned white.  Why had Agravain sent him off to do this alone?  Aunt Morgan’s island was surrounded by merfolk infested waters.  They always got caught in a merfolk trap whenever they visited.  And these stupid traps always required two people to get out of.  One to untangle the trap and the other to hold a gun.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Dinadan asked. 

“Something’s caught in the engines,” Mordred said.  He had a feeling that telling this droid about the merfolk traps would only aggravate the situation.  Now he just needed to warn the astromech without causing the BARD to panic.  “Run a diagnostic scan on the engines?”

AC-LN rolled to the stern.  Mordred grabbed a rifle and a pole and followed, Dinadan ambling after him.  The astromech took a moment to run its scan and then let loose a few quick buzzes.

“A trap!” Dinadan shrieked.  Mordred sighed.  “What do you mean we’re caught in a trap?”

“Can you handle a rifle?” Mordred asked, holding out the weapon to the BARD.

“Oh, no sir,” Dinadan said.  “It’s against my programming to handle weapons.”

“Consider yourself reprogrammed.”

“But sir—”

“Look, if I don’t get the engine cleared, the merfolk are going to tear holes in the hull until we sink.  They’ll eat me and put you both in their treasure trove.”  AC-LN gave a curt buzz and hovered in the air.  “Or at least they’ll do that to one of you.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” Dinadan said, taking the rifle.  The droid held the weapon awkwardly and Mordred had to set the pole aside for a moment to correct Dinadan’s grip. 

Agravain.  When he got back to Tintagel he was going to kill Agravain. 

AC-LN flew over the edge of the boat and hovered just above the water.  All four of its arms extended down into the water and began pulling and cutting away the seaweed netting that had caught the engine.

“Be careful, AC,” Mordred said.  He lowered the pole into the water and worked on either lifting the seaweed netting out of the water and onto the boat or pushing it aside.  AC-LN let loose a string of buzzes and whistles.

“AC-LN says it can sense several merfolk beneath the ship,” Dinadan said, leaving Mordred to wonder why in the galaxy someone would program a droid’s voice to waver in fear like that.  He could understand why Dinadan would need it when telling his stories, but being able to utilize it in actual terror seemed overboard.  A droid being able to feel terror seemed overboard.

“Stand steady,” Mordred said.  “We’re almost done.”

Bubbles reached the surface and Mordred froze.  He was almost done—only a little bit of seaweed left to pull from the engine and they could be on their way again.  But the netting that was already out of the engine and the bubbles the merfolk were blowing made it impossible to see anything beneath the surface of the water.  The merfolk could be preparing to strike and he would never see it coming. 

“Sir—” Dinadan said.

“Shh,” Mordred hissed.  There was no way around it.  If he didn’t finish clearing the engine, they were dead.  The merfolk would sink the boat.  Slowly he eased more of the netting away from the engine as AC-LN continued to pull and cut the netting up.  Suddenly, the ship’s engine roared back to life.  Mordred’s shoulders sagged in relief. 

That was when a merfolk lunged out of the water, grabbed him by the shoulders, and pulled Mordred over the boat and down into the ocean.

He lost his grip on the pole the moment his body hit the water.  The next thing he lost was his sense of direction.  The world turned and spun around him and all he could see through the stinging salt water were bubbles.   The merfolk that had grabbed him kept a tight grip on his shoulders and he could feel more circling around him. 

There was a loud roar that Mordred could feel reverberate in his bones.  The merfolk scattered.  Free, Mordred kicked his legs and swung his arms around in a circular stroke.  The growing light above him proved to Mordred that he was going the right direction.  But what surprised him was how far away the surface was—the merfolk had pulled him down into the depths faster than he had realized.  His lungs were burning for air and the world around him was starting to grow fuzzy.  Worst of all, the surface didn’t seem to be growing any closer. 

Survival reflex finally kicked and his mouth broke open to gasp for air that wasn’t there.  Water flooded his lungs right as he broke through the surface.  Gasping and choking, Mordred treaded water, trying to get his bearings.  He knew that whatever scared off the merfolk couldn’t be far off.  It would either kill him or swim off—but if it swam off, the merfolk would soon be back.  He needed to get out of the water and back into his boat.  He needed to find his boat.

A warm hand grasp his arm firmly just under his armpit and started to lift him out of the water.  Mordred clasp his hands around the arm of the person lifting him and started kicking harder—trying to find some leverage to help his savior.  He figured that anywhere was better than the water right now.  Even if he was about to be kidnapped by one of the gangs.

His savior finally managed to lift him onto a boat and dropped him roughly onto the deck.  Mordred groaned as he hit the floor and then proceeded to cough up some more water.  He kept his eyes on the deck.  Whatever new trouble he was in, he didn’t want to know about it until the last bit had completely passed.

“And here I thought any nephew of mine was smart enough not to travel in these waters alone,” a woman said. 

Mordred looked up and grinned.  “Aunt Morgan,” he managed to say before being overtaken by another coughing fit.

“Steady, nephew,” Morgan said, kneeling on the deck next to him and running her hand up and down his back.  “You’re going to be fine.  Take your time and when you’re ready you can explain this act of stupidity to me in full detail.”

Mordred followed her advice, waiting until he could breathe normally before trying to talk again.  “It’s Agravain’s fault.”

“Oh, Agravain’s fault,” Morgan scoffed, getting to her feet.  She reached out a hand and helped Mordred up.  He took a moment to look around, not at all surprised to find himself on Morgan’s boat with his own floating a few yards away. 

“It is,” Mordred said.  “He was supposed to come with me, but at the last moment had me go alone.”

“Agravain?” Morgan asked.  “Agravain sent you out here on your own?  Agravain, the most sensible of all my sister’s sons?”  Mordred nodded, glad that Gawain, Gaheris and Gareth couldn’t see him agree to that.  “What possessed him to send you into these dangerous waters alone?”

“He didn’t give me a list of reasons,” Mordred said.  “He just told me to go and didn’t give me a chance to argue with him.”

“Then perhaps I should give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had a good reason to venture into these waters,” Morgan said.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the visit, nephew, but there best be more to it than that.  Else my sister and I will need to have a conversation about what you’re learning in that fortress of hers.”

“The droids,” Mordred said, pointing to his boat.  Morgan turned to study the pair.  AC-LN rose up off the deck and let loose a series of buzzes and whistles.  Morgan stilled.  Not knowing what was going on, Mordred just started talking in hopes that his aunt would be able to derive meaning from what had occurred over the past day. 

“We purchased them yesterday from the gnomes.  I was cleaning the astromech when it spit out a message from Gaheris.  I guess he was here—in orbit.  The firefight two nights ago was his ship.  He was sent here to do something…  He was talking about a mission in the message, but it was stuck on repeat and I don’t know what that was.  When Aunt Morgause saw it, she ordered me and Agravain out of the room.  Later she told us to bring the droids to you.  I think she must have heard the whole message…”

He trailed off.  Aunt Morgan hadn’t moved.  Mordred tried to shift to see what she was staring at.  He thought her eyes were on the astromech, but she could also be watching the BARD, the water or the sky.  Unless he could see her face, there was no way for Mordred to know what her reaction to all this was.

Something knocked into the boat, sending it rocking.  Morgan stumbled and Mordred grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. 

“We should get off the water,” Morgan said.  She went over to the controls of her boat and brought it alongside Mordred’s.  He jumped over the side into his boat just as the astromech flew over into Morgan’s.  Mordred didn’t ask.  He assumed his aunt would explain in good time and right now, out on the water, the less said,the better.

Chapter Text

Although she had always been welcome at their home in Tintagel, for some reason Morgan had decided to live in a hermit’s hut on a small island that was made up more of sand than solid ground.  The most technologically advanced pieces of equipment in her home were the shields around the bay that could hold her boat and one other.  How she managed to so expertly navigate the merfolk infested waters that surrounded her home, Mordred didn’t know.  He also wasn’t sure how she managed to keep her home from being ransacked by Mark’s men or Ironside’s.  While the hut didn’t speak to any wealth, neither Ironside nor Mark looked favorable upon those who chose to live outside their influence.  Tintagel’s fortifications kept Morgause and her family safe.  What was it about this place that allowed Morgan the same pleasure?

Whatever it was, Mordred knew that he was as safe here as he had been at Tintagel.  That was why, after helping Morgan secure the boats and getting Dinadan onto land, he took the time to change into dry clothes before entering the hut.  He figured he owed it to his aunt to be respectful of what little she owned.

He just wished he had a pair of dry boots to go along with it.

“Mordred, come sit here,” Morgan said when he entered the hut.  He turned to find her sitting in front of a roaring fire pit. 

“Your clothes?” she asked as he took a seat next to her. 

“They’ll dry laying out on the boat,” he said.

Morgan reached out and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.  “Get your shoes off.  Do want a blanket?”

“I’m fine,” Mordred said as he dutifully kicked off his boots and shifted closer to the fire.  “Dry clothes and a fire work well enough for me.”

“You’d best truly mean that nephew and not be putting on a braver face,” Morgan said.  “Won’t do any of us a whit of good for you to come down with chills.”

Next to her, AC-LN chirped.  Morgan turned to it and ran her hand over its hull with the same gentleness one would stroke a pet. 

“Hello, Accolon,” Morgan said.  “It’s good to see you again, old friend.”

“Acco—you know this droid?”

“Oh, yes, we go way back,” Morgan said.  “All the way to the first separatist action of the Saxons.  In fact, it was this little droid who helped your father pilot the fighter that broke the blockade at Cameliard.”

Startled, Mordred found himself looking at the astromech in a new light.  He knew all about the blockade at Cameliard.  It was where Aunt Morgause always started when Mordred begged her to tell him stories about his father—the beginning of Sir Arthur Pendragon’s rise to greatness.  Not just as a Knight of Avalon, but as a force for good within the galaxy as a whole. 

He had heard the story from Aunt Morgause often enough, but never from Aunt Morgan.  Even though she had actually been at Cameliard while Aunt Morgause’s knowledge was only second hand, she’d always ignored his pleas for more information.  Now, after nearly twenty years, he finally had another source.  AC-LN hadn’t just been sent to them by Gaheris with a message.  It had known his father.  It had fought alongside his father and aunts during the war.  AC-LN carried within its memories a history of his family Mordred had long wanted to explore in more detail.  What could the AC unit tell him about his parents that no one else in his family could?

“I wish I had known him,” Mordred said softly.

“There’s still time,” Morgan said and Mordred started.  For a brief moment he allowed himself to hope, but then pushed the thought away.  He had known his whole life his father had died before he was born.  Nothing Aunt Morgan said would change that.

“Aunt Morgan,” he said carefully, trying to be delicate in case she—

“Oh, listen to you,” she chuckled.  “Trying to be careful around an old woman’s madness.  I can hear the pity in your voice and read your thoughts on your face.  ‘Poor Aunt Morgan, driven mad from living alone for so long.’  Not once do you consider the possibility that my dear sister has lied to you.”

“My father is dead,” Mordred said.

“No, he is not,” Morgan said.  “There are many, such as my sister, who believe he is as good as dead.  Who believe it would be foolish to make the push to rescue him—trapped as he is at the heart of the Empire.  But my brother lives.  I can feel it.”

“I—” His head was swimming.  He didn’t know what to make of what Morgan was telling him.  He had known all his life that his father was dead—that Arthur Pendragon had died a war hero.  How was he supposed to take the news that the people he cared about most in the world had spent his whole life lying to him?

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Come nephew, think,” Morgan said.  “Can you think of a moment in your young life where we were alone together?  Where my sister or your cousins weren’t watching you?  No, she guarded you well.  She wanted you to believe he was dead so you wouldn’t grow up with delusions of rescuing him.  So you would grow up to be as ruthless and cutthroat as her.”

‘Ruthless’ and ‘cutthroat’ weren’t words he would ever attribute to Aunt Morgause.  She was stern and unyielding, yes, but she was also warm and loving.  The sadness in her voice whenever she talked about his father…she never would have left him trapped within the Empire.  She wouldn’t have given up and written him off as dead so long as he was alive, right?

But then she had left Gaheris.  She had given up on her own son seemingly without a second thought. 

“Why keep him alive?” Mordred asked.  “He’s a war hero.  A symbol of hope within the rebellion.  If people were to learn he was still alive—”

“He lives because of you,” Morgan said. 

“Me?  What do I have to do with this?”

“An ancient prophecy of the Knights of Avalon.  One of the oldest, and the one we hold most dear.  Your father stands at the heart of it.  I’ve never known a man who so intuitively understood the Force.  The things your father could do nephew...it was how we knew that he was the one the prophecy spoke of.  He would be a leader the likes of which the Knights of Avalon had never seen before.  He would help restore the knights to their rightful place as peacekeepers of the galaxy and bring forth a new era of prosperity.”

Mordred shifted.  He knew all this—although it was strange to hear Aunt Morgan finally talk about his father.  Aunt Morgause had told him many stories about his father over the years.  He knew all about the Round Table—the alliance between the Knights of Avalon, world leaders and local heroes.  Under Arthur’s flagship, the Camelot, they had defended the galaxy against the early separatist actions by the Saxons and had formed the beginnings of the rebellion when the emperor’s power had become too great.  What he hadn’t know was that his father’s actions had stemmed from some prophecy.  But if that was the case...

“He failed,” Mordred said.  “The Emperor took complete control of the galaxy and the Round Table fell when my father—”

“Was captured,” Morgan said firmly. 

“If you’re right, he’s been held captive for nearly two decades,” Mordred said.  “The Round Table was active for five.  Not exactly the best record for a chosen one.”

“I sure that if he could escape his captivity, my brother would have done so long ago,” Morgan said.  “But he can’t.  He sleeps deep within the heart of the Empire.  That, nephew, is where you come in.”

“Let me guess, a second prophecy,” Mordred said. 

Morgan sniffed.  “It is truly a shame, nephew, that you weren’t left with me after your birth.  My sister never truly understood the Knights of Avalon.  To her the ways of the Order were nothing better than fairy stories.  She never understood the respect and reverence that we gave to the Lady of the Lake—how her word is sacred.  How she always speaks the truth of the future.  No, to you it’s just an old story.  One that has little bearing on your life when it is in fact your whole reason for being.”

Mordred bit his lip to keep from snapping back at her.  What did she know about Aunt Morgause or the way she had raised him?  Aunt Morgan had never played an active role in any of their lives.  They had seen her maybe once a year and always at Aunt Morgause’s insistence.  How dare she claim that she could have raised him better when she had never made any sort of effort to be a part of his life?

“So yes, nephew, there is a second prophecy,” Morgan said.  “Before your father’s capture, the Lady of the Lake foresaw his captivity and the fall of the Round Table.  She also foresaw you, nephew.  You alone have the power to wake the sleeping king from the power that binds him within the Empire.  You alone have the power to free your father and return him to his place of glory.”

“If that’s true, why is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Mordred asked.  “If I’m really the only one who can save him—if I’m the only one who can stop this war and bring about the end of the Empire, why did I grow up on this back-water planet at the edge of the galaxy?  Why didn’t I grow up within the rebellion?  That would have offered them the best chance of success.  So why am I just hearing this from you?  Why was I raised to believe my father was dead?”

“Because my sister wouldn’t allow it,” Morgan said.  “She wanted to raise you the same way she raised her sons—ignorant of the ways of Avalon and blind to your place among the forces shaping the galaxy.”

“You really expect me to believe an exiled queen holds enough sway within the rebellion to—”

“I don’t know what I expect you to believe at this juncture,” Morgan said.  “But my sister was a member of the Round Table and one of the early leaders within the rebellion.  She had exactly enough clout—especially in the early days—to disappear to the outer worlds with your mother and dictate your upbringing away from the rebellion’s influence.”

“My mother?” Mordred asked, his mind bypassing everything else Morgan had told him.  She knew his mother.  She could give him a name and tell him where to start looking.  “You know my mother?”

“I knew your mother,” Morgan said.  “She’s dead.”

“Aunt Morgause said she was still alive.”

“Well, it seems that for once I’m more up to date with the events of the galaxy than my sister is.”

“I see,” Mordred said, reaching for his boots.  It was time he got back to Tintagel.

“Nephew?”

“I need to get home,” Mordred said.  “They’ll be worried—”

“Home?  Haven’t you heard a word I said?” Morgan asked.  “You’re not going home.  You’re coming with me to join the rebellion.”  Mordred laughed.  “Why do you think they sent you out here all alone if you weren’t supposed to come with me?”

“I don’t know,” Mordred said.  “I don’t know what to think or what to make of any of this.  You say my mother is dead and my father is alive, Aunt Morgause says the opposite.  You say there’s a prophecy, Aunt Morgause never mentioned it.  You say I’m to go with you, just last night Aunt Morgause told me I needed to wait another year.”

“I’m sure my sister had her reasons for telling you that.”

“Well, she’s going to have to explain those reasons to me, because I’m going home.”

“You need to trust me.”

“I can’t right now,” Mordred said, finishing with his boots and getting to his feet.  “I’m sorry, Aunt Morgan, but I don’t know what to believe and I need to hear these words from another person.  I can’t just follow you on blind faith when you’re contradicting everything I’ve ever known.”  He turned away from her and headed towards the entrance of her hut.

“What if you heard it from Gaheris?” Morgan asked and Mordred froze.  “You said Accolon was carrying a message from him.  Would you like to hear the whole thing?”

Mordred turned around slowly.  Morgan held out a hand, beckoning him back to her side. 

“Come, nephew,” she said.  “Let us listen to Gaheris’ last message.”

Mordred took her hand and let her pull him back down to the ground.  She kept hold of his hand as AC-LN shifted so they could both see its holographic projection.  His chest tightened at the sight of the blue tinged projection.  It was the last image of Gaheris he would likely ever see. 

“Aunt Morgan,” Gaheris said.  “I’d hoped we’d have this conversation in person, but my ship has come under attack and I am unable to complete my mission.  It now falls to you to do what I could not.  First, and most pressing.  This astromech is carrying the schematics of the Empire’s newest space station.  The rebellion believes it is carrying a weapon that will allow the Emperor to disband the Senate.  You must see these plans safely into the hands of the rebellion. 

“Second...I’m sorry, Aunt Morgan.  The rebellion has searched, but you are the last Knight of Avalon.  You must take Mordred on as your squire if the prophecy is to be fulfilled.  I know it goes against the laws of Avalon for a knight and squire to share blood.  I wish that it hadn’t come to this, but if you don’t help us now, all is lost.”  Gaheris paused and looked over his shoulder.  “Message complete.”

The blue tinged projection disappeared.  Mordred swallowed, trying to come to terms with everything he’d just heard.  Gaheris had mentioned the prophecy.  Part of Gaheris’ mission had been to convince Aunt Morgan to take him on as a squire and train as a Knight of Avalon. 

Did that mean everything Aunt Morgan had said was true?

“I believe you have something for my nephew, Accolon,” Morgan said.  The droid buzzed and the door to a small compartment in its hull dropped open.  Morgan reached inside and pulled out two sword hilts.  It was simple metalwork with no embellished design along the pommel or crossguard.  The hilts looked sturdy enough, but then neither had a blade and Mordred wasn’t sure how he was supposed to judge them without one. 

After looking the hilts over, Morgan returned one to AC-LN’s compartment and passed the other to Mordred.

“The Caliburn blade,” she said in explanation as Mordred looked over the hilt, not sure what he was supposed to do with it.  Getting to her feet, Morgan continued to speak as she crossed the hut in search of something.  “The weapon of the Knights of Avalon.  Both were made for your hand, but that is a squire’s blade.  The other won’t do you any good until you’ve been knighted.”

Opening a cabinet, she removed a similar sword hilt.  She held it up for Mordred to see, then swung it through the air.  Mordred gasped at the sight before him.  Suddenly Morgan was holding a complete sword in her hand instead of just a hilt.  Even in the dim light of the hut, the blade shone brightly and the firelight seemed to dance across its polished surface.  Mordred was no expert in weaponry, but he doubted he would ever again see a finer blade in his lifetime. 

Glancing down at the hilt in his hand, he considered it nervously.  It hadn’t looked like Aunt Morgan had done all that much to turn her sword hilt into a complete weapon.  Any sudden movement could potentially call out the blade and Aunt Morgan’s sword looked like it could cut down to bone with very little effort.

“These swords are blessed by the power of Avalon,” Morgan said.  “Like Avalon, they exist between worlds.  The blade of your sword will only respond to your hand and will always come at your call.  Caliburn swords can cut through any solid material and deflect energy-based weaponry.  As with all things from the Otherworld, they come with consequences.  You cannot kill a person with a Caliburn blade, yet any wound dealt by one will never heal.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Mordred said. 

“They are,” Morgan said.  “As is a blaster if you don’t know how to use it.  But I assure you, nephew, there is no finer weapon in the galaxy than the Caliburn blade.  You will soon come to feel as though you are missing a part of yourself if you are ever without it.”

“How do I get the blade to appear?” Mordred asked.

“In time,” Morgan said.  “For now we must make our way to Cornasin to find a transport to Lothian.”

“Lothian?  I thought Gaheris wanted you to take AC-LN to the rebellion?”

“Yes.  No doubt that plan involved him giving us funds to purchase a ship and pilots to fly it.  Now we are without and must depend on a smuggler to get us off this planet.  It’s too dangerous to trust the location of the rebellion to one such as that.  We’ll go first to Lothian and find secure transport to the rebellion from there.”

Mordred could only watch in silence as she set about putting out the fire pit and packing some of her meager belongings into a small knapsack.  Then she was out the door without a word and Mordred and droids had no choice but to follow her.

“We’ll take both boats and sell them in Cornasin.  That should give us enough upfront money for a transport—”

“You can’t sell Aunt Morgause’s boat,” Mordred said. 

Morgan paused, mouth open as though she had been caught doing something wrong.  Face flushed, she shook her head.  “I told you, Mordred, Morgause sent you out here for the purpose of leaving the planet with me.  She understands the sacrifices that must be made for the sake of the rebellion.  You heard Gaheris.  I need to get these droids to the rebellion as soon as possible and you’re to come with me.”

Mordred shook his head.  “No.”

“No?  Weren’t you paying attention to Gaheris’ message?”

“His message doesn’t change anything,” Mordred said.  “Last night Aunt Morgause told me that if I leave Cornwall now, I do so without her blessing.  I know you think she didn’t mean it and wanted us to leave from here, but I need to hear that from her.  I can’t just risk disappearing into space without knowing that I have her blessing.  I can’t go off into the galaxy without her support.”

Morgan’s lips parted in a smile.  It was a smile filled with warmth and understanding, yet Mordred couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just barely containing her anger with him.  The next words she spoke, while they held no hint of malice or anger, did nothing to dissuade of him of this notion.

“You must do what you think is right, of course,” Morgan said with a nod before turning to the boats.  Mordred crossed his arms and suppressed a shiver.  He didn’t like this at all. 

Chapter Text

It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, Ursus decided as he paced outside the chamber of Grand Moff Lucius Tiberius.  It tugged at his memory, trying to form into a coherent thought before dissipating into the nether every time he turned his mind to it. 

Ursus had long ago learned to ignore these mental ticks.  If it was important, the thought would come to him.  The Emperor would see to that.  If not, it wasn’t important and he knew better than to concern himself with things that weren’t important.  He was the Emperor’s man.  His blood hound.  It wasn’t Ursus’ place to allow himself to get distracted away from what the Emperor wanted.

But this one felt different.  It felt important and, more worrying, it felt like someone was trying to keep it from him.  Unlike the other itches which felt as though the knowledge was dancing just out of his reach and would come to him if he meditated long enough on the problem, this felt as though a wall had been erected between him and this piece of information.  One that he wouldn’t be able to break down no matter how hard he tried. 

“He’s done it,” Lucius Tiberius said as the door to his chamber whooshed open. 

“Sir?” Ursus asked as the itch faded from his mind.  Tiberius started down the hallways of the Death Star toward the war room, Ursus following at his heels.

“The Emperor disbanded the senate this morning.”

“As we knew he would,” Ursus said, trying to keep his contempt for Tiberius from seeping into his words. 

“As he said he would,” Tiberius said.  “You may think me a man of little faith, Lord Ursus, but I did not believe the Emperor would be able to do away with the last remnants of the old republic so easily.”

“I do not think you’re a man of little faith, Tiberius,” Ursus said.  “I think you’re a man of no faith.”

Tiberius laughed, and then continued on as though Ursus hadn’t spoken.  “I was certain they would fight.  My recommendation to the Emperor was that he wait until after the Death Star weapon was fully operational.  But he knew—that magnificent bastard.  He knew the worlds were cowed long ago.”

Ursus drew in a breath, barely able to keep himself from growling.  If Tiberius truly believed that the citizens of the Empire were cowed, he was more foolish that Ursus had thought.  They wouldn’t be cowed so long as the rebellion was still active.  All it would take was a spark—one high profile victory for the rebellion—and the regions would push back.  That was why the Empire couldn’t fire the Death Star weapon as a showing of force.  They needed the first and only firing to be the one that eradicated the rebellion.

The door to the war room whooshed open.  The occupants of the room fell silent as Tiberius and Ursus entered.  Commander Ladis had been the last one speaking, but he had abruptly cut his speech short at Tiberius’ entry.  Ursus wondered what he had been saying.  If there was anyone on this base he hated more than Tiberius, it was Ladis.  And he had the power to do something about Ladis, unlike his situation with Tiberius.

“Well, Commander Ladis?” Tiberius asked, making his way around the room to the head of the table.  “It’s not often a room goes silent as I enter.  It tends to make a man nervous.”

“I meant no disrespect, Grand Moff,” Ladis said.

“Yet without knowing which words you spoke, I’m finding it quite impossible to decide if they were disrespectful or not.”

“I was speaking of the rebellion,” Ladis said.  “And the rumors of their growing support within the Imperial Senate.”

“Oh, yes,” Tiberius said.  “Lord Ursus and I were just discussing this.  No need to fret on such things any further, Ladis.  The Emperor disbanded the senate this morning.  We have nothing more to fear from that outdated institution.”

“That’s impossible,” Ladis stammered.  “The Emperor will never be able to maintain control without the appearance of democracy.”

“He will.  With fear,” Admiral Meodras said from his place across the table.  “As I was telling you, Commander.  Fear of this battle station is all the Emperor needs.”

“And the rebellion?” Ladis asked.  “We may no longer need concern ourselves with their popularity in the senate, but that does nothing to diminish the threat they pose to the Empire.  Especially now with the technician who defected and the theft at Cologne.  If the rebellion has the technical plans for this station--”

“They do not possess the plans,” Ursus said.  “Not yet.  And I assure you they never will.”

“An attack on this station would be nothing more than useless heroics anyways,” Meodras said.  “Even if they had the plans, there’s nothing in there that will be able to help them.  The Death Star was designed to be invulnerable to their usual tricks.”

“Beware of your own hubris, Admiral,” Ursus said, feeling that itch in his mind return.  This was important.  Something about this conversation was important... something he should be seeing but wasn’t.  “The rebellion has long held ties to the Knights of Avalon and there is no technical marvel into is galaxy that is invincible against the power of the Force.”

Meodras scoffed and Ursus blinked, trying to clear his head.  Something important...something that he’d lost...

“The Knights of Avalon are dead and gone,” Meodras said.  “Frankly I find it disturbing that you continue to give reverence to that vanquished order.”

“There is no power in the galaxy stronger than the Force,” Ursus said.  “For all their flaws, the Knights of Avalon understood that and didn’t so foolishly believe that the hands of mortals could construct something stronger.”

“And what has this ancient power brought you, Lord Ursus?” Meodras asked.  “Certainly not the stolen technical plans.  This great power hasn’t forced Prince Gaheris to give up the location of the rebel base.  It hasn’t—”

The admiral broke off in his ravings and began pawing at his throat.  Ursus hadn’t even realized that he’d reached out with the Force, but now that his mind was firmly located around Meodras’ throat, he didn’t feel all that inclined to let it go.  The man deserved to suffer for his own arrogance and, more importantly, the itch in his mind had finally faded away.  So long as he was killing Meodras, he wouldn’t have to worry about what he’d forgotten.

And to think all his ire had been directed at Ladis when he’d entered the room.

“Ursus,” Tiberius said.  “Come on now, let him go.  Admirals of his standing don’t just grow on trees.  The Emperor won’t be pleased if he has to take time to replace another high ranking official.”

Growling, Ursus released Meodras’ throat.  The man collapsed onto the table, gasping for breath.  Mercifully, the itch didn’t return.  His will was the Emperor’s.  So long as he did his master’s bidding, he had no reason to fear hidden memories.

“As for the Admiral’s concerns,” Tiberius continued.  “Well...let’s just say that Prince Gaheris hasn’t yet had time to truly settle into his stay here.  But have no fear.  Lord Ursus will be seeing to his comfort in very short order.  By the time this station is fully operational, we will know the location of the rebel base.  After that, we’ll have no reason to fear the rebellion.  Whether they have the plans or not.”

They came across a crashed, burnt out whirligig when they were halfway to Tintagel.  Out of habit, both Mordred and Morgan brought their boats up alongside the whirligig—both to see if there was anyone still onboard in need of help and to scavenge the ship for anything valuable.  It wouldn’t be long before the merfolk sunk the ship to the ocean floor and all those residing on Cornwall knew to take what they could from the wreckage before it was gone forever. 

“I can’t believe this,” Mordred said, reaching out to run his fingers across the long claw marks that had ripped through the hull of the whirligig.  “Since when do the merfolk hit something this big?”

“They don’t,” Morgan said, but Mordred was too focused on the wreckage to hear her.

“How’d they catch it?  The gnomes know better than to fly their ships low to the water or land anywhere the merfolk can reach them.  And why not sink it?  Why would the merfolk just leave a ship on the surface like this?”

“Because it wasn’t them,” Morgan said, loud enough to finally catch Mordred’s attention.  He glanced at her as she pointed to the whirligig’ shattered power source.  “An energy weapon grounded the ship.  All this destruction was done afterwards.  So it would appear as though the gnomes were careless and the merfolk got the best of them.  But, as you point out, the merfolk would have sunk the ship.  And the bodies.  The merfolk wouldn’t let fresh meat go to waste—no matter how mutilated the bodies may be.  No.  Something else did this.  Whatever it was, it was large enough to scare off the merfolk not just for the slaughter itself, but for hours afterward.”

Mordred blinked, suddenly haunted by the image of an imperial Star Destroyer capturing that tiny transport vessel.  The transport vessel that Gaheris had been on.  Mordred blinked again and turned to look at the droids.  Was this the same whirligig that had sold the droids to them?  Did that mean...

Agravain.  Agravain’s strange behavior this morning as he told Mordred to go into merfolk infested waters all alone.  Aunt Morgause last night as she insisted they do nothing more than deliver the droids to Aunt Morgan.  Aunt Morgan herself when she told him they needed to go to Cornasin and tried to keep him from returning to Tintagel. 

They had sent him away.  They had sent him away because...

Mordred looked over the whirligig again, suddenly seeing it in a new light. 

They had sent him away because they knew this was going to happen.

He spun around to his boat’s controls and sent it roaring off across the oceans at a dangerous, merfolk attention grabbing speed.  He could hear Aunt Morgan and Dinadan shouting at him, but he blocked them out.  Just as he blocked out the terror that this speed on the water usually incited.  Aunt Morgan didn’t matter.  The merfolk didn’t matter.  All that mattered was getting back to Tintagel before the Empire found it.

Mordred knew long before he reached the fortress that he had arrived too late.  The shield was down.  That familiar shimmer in the air caused by light reflecting off the energy wasn’t there.  That alone told him he was too late.

Instinct told him to rush back up to the main level upon arriving.  Habit made him pause to secure the boat and bring the shield back up.  The longer it took the reach them, the colder he got inside.  Some part of him rationalized that this was a good thing.  If he was cold, then it wouldn’t hurt as much when he finally saw them. 

That part was wrong.  Reaching the main courtyard, Mordred stopped at the sight of them.  They were sprawled out across the ground—left where they had fallen after the imperial troops had gunned them down.  Frozen in the lift, Mordred could only stare at their discarded bodies trying to find...he didn’t even know what he was trying to find.  Certainly not life.  Their lives were long gone.  That much he could see from across the courtyard.

They just...looked so small.  Agravain had never looked small in his life and Aunt Morgause had always been imposing.  Now they looked inconsequential.  Like they had been thrown away.  They were two most important people in his life and the Empire had killed them as an afterthought. 

After what felt like hours, Mordred finally managed to lurch forward.  Then he was running across the courtyard.  He dropped to the ground next to Morgause, unable to even look at Agravain.  His cousin’s death was the far more painful of the two.  Mordred didn’t know why—maybe because deep down he knew that Agravain should have been standing beside him now, grieving with him, instead of lying dead on the ground.  Aunt Morgause had tried to send them both away, but Agravain had chosen to stay and die beside her.  

“Why?” he whispered, smoothing Morgause’s hair away from her face.  “I told you last night I couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.  Why would you sacrifice yourself like this?”

“Sacrifices have to be made,” she had told him last night.  Now he realized she hadn’t just been talking about Gaheris.  She had been talking about the sacrifice she had been preparing to make to protect him. 

Tears began to roll down his cheeks and Mordred bit down hard on his lips to stifle the sob bubbling up in his chest.  He doubled over, fighting against a growing pressure in his chest that was threatening to rip him apart.  He couldn’t cry now—couldn’t give into despair.  There was work to be down and he was the only one who could do it. 

It took longer than Mordred would have liked for the pressure in his chest to ease.  Drawing in long, slow breaths to steady himself, Mordred wiped away his tears and looked to the sky.  The sun was setting.  He could only hope Morgan and the droids were safe wherever they were.  It was too late for him to go out on the water again. 

Besides, he had work that needed to be done here before he joined Morgan on her mission.

He spent the night working—building pyres for Aunt Morgause and Agravain.  He wouldn’t be able to set them aflame until right before he left.  There was too much risk or someone seeing the flames in the night sky or the smoke during the day and coming to investigate.  Mordred would have to light the pyres as soon as the sun rose and run.  He could have waited until later in the evening to start building, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his aunt and cousin laid out on the ground while he saw to his other chores.

Clothes.  Supplies.  He needed to make up a pack of essentials for this journey.  There was no telling when, or if, he’d be back to Tintagel and he couldn’t risk forgetting anything.  After grabbing a pack from one of the sheds, Mordred made his way to his room and stopped cold when he reached the threshold. 

It was empty.  As though it hadn’t been inhabited in years.  All of his belongings had been cleared out.  His bed had been stripped of its linen.  There was even a fine layer of dust on the desk and shelves.  How had Aunt Morgause managed all of this?  And in such a short amount of time?

Mordred shook his head, trying not to be upset.  He understood why his existence had been erased form Tintagel.  If Aunt Morgause was trying to convince the Imperial Stormtroopers that it was just her and Agravain, an extra room in use would have given away that someone was missing. 

Suddenly tired, Mordred made his way to Agravain’s room—hoping that some of his possessions had been moved to his cousin’s room instead of just thrown away.  Had Aunt Morgause suspected he would come back?  Mordred fervently wanted to believe she had and that somewhere in the fortress he would find one last message from her.  Now more than ever he needed her blessing.      

Searching through the shelves and drawers of Agarvain’s room, Mordred grew more and more disheartened when none of his belongings suddenly made an appearance.  Where could Aunt Morgause have hidden them?  He didn’t fancy turning all of Tintagel upside down in his search.  He was so tired that every movement felt like a feat of strength.  He just wanted to sleep—a moment of peace before he had to face the sunrise.

Opening Agravain’s closet, Mordred paused at the sight of a bulging pack leaning against the wall.  He grabbed the bag and pulled it open, knowing already that it was his.  Sure enough, the bag was filled with his clothes.  Not everything, but enough for several days of travel.

And there, lying at the very top of the bag, was the blessing he had been looking for.  Aunt Morgause’s Annwyn locket.  Sitting back on his heels, Mordred ran his finger over the edges of the locket.  He didn’t have one—too young to have had one made for him yet.  Technically it now fell on Aunt Morgan or Gawain to make him one while Aunt Morgause’s should burn along with her.  But she had left it for him.  She had put it in this pack along with what he would need for this journey with Aunt Morgan.  The locket was her blessing. 

Mordred pulled the chain over his head and let the locket drop against his chest.  Closing the bag back up, he carried it over to Agravain’s bed and dropped it at the foot.  Tucking a foot underneath the bag, Mordred curled up on the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Chapter Text

Morgan le Fay did not fear the waters of Cornwall.  She was a Knight of Avalon.  To her water was life, not death.  No creature of the deep would ever be a threat to her. 

Drawing her boat up along the wrecked whirligig, Morgan flipped a few quick switches on the control panel to ensure her safety for the night.  Pheromones released into the water, along with a touch of her own power to add to the illusion, would make it appear as though a massive aspidochelones had settled in the area.  The merfolk would steer clear of the whirligig and Morgan’s boat so long as they believed an aspidochelones rested beneath it.  She would be safe for the night.

“Ma’am?” the bard droid ventured once she had finished securing her boat to the whirligig.  “Surely you don’t intend to—”

Without looking, Morgan reached around the droid and powered it down.  Accolon buzzed at her.  Frowning, she turned to face the little AC unit.

“I would appreciate it if your partner here didn’t remember anything after we came upon the whirligig,” she said.  Almost sounding dejected, Accolon whistled in agreement.  Morgan knelt on the ground next to the droid.  “Alright, my pet.  Whatever message my dead sister left for the boy—no doubt with orders not to give it until after we had been separated by the rebellion—I need you to play it for me.”

Accolon buzzed and Morgan frowned.  “What do you mean she didn’t leave a message for him?  Did she leave a message at all?”  Accolon whistled an affirmative.  “What do you mean for...play it.”

The light of Accolon’s hologram projector flickered on and a miniature image of Morgause stood in front of her.

“Greetings, sister,” the message began.  Morgause paused and smiled to herself.  “No doubt you thought I’d forgotten that Accolon is beholden to you and you alone.”

Morgan closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath.  She had thought—hoped—that Morgause had forgotten.  She wanted to see her sister’s hand.  She wanted to know what Morgause had planned for Mordred and how deep her influence ran in the boy.

“Fear not, Morgan,” Morgause continued.  “I haven’t told him anything.  All your secrets—all your machinations—are now safe from me.  Mordred won’t ever learn the truth from my lips.  It now falls to you to tell him, but of course you won’t.  It’s not part of your plan, is it?”

Morgan pressed her lips together.  Morgause was dead.  She could no longer pull on the strings of the galaxy as if it was a puppet she could play with.  No matter how confident Morgause sounded, all her work could easily be undone now. 

Remember, it is Mordred’s wellbeing that is your charge now,” Morgause said.  “‘Beware the wicked day of destiny, where father and son meet and know each other to be enemies.’  I fear that moment is fast approaching and you will need to be…delicate in your response.  It is up to you now.  Do not fail.  And may the Force be with you.”

The blue image of Morgause faded as her message ended and Accolon flipped off his projector.  Morgan sat back on her heels.  So this was Morgause’s last message to the world?  A concession of defeat?  A plea for discretion?  Morgan should have been pleased about this.  She had outlasted her sister.  The fate of the galaxy was now in her hands, not Morgause’s.

She should have been pleased.  And yet...

“Delete it,” Morgan said.  Accolon buzzed, having complied with her directive.  Morgan sighed.  Now Morgause was well and truly dead.

Gaheris was starting to go mad.

He didn’t know where he was and he didn’t know how long he’d been here.  From the brig on Ursus’s Star Destroyer, they’d traveled somewhere.  As a prisoner he wasn’t privy to their destination.  When they had finally arrived, Gaheris had been blindfolded and escorted to his current cell.  For all he knew, he could be in a different cell on the same damn Star Destroyer.  Or somewhere on Rome.  Or somewhere else entirely. 

The more he thought about it, the more he suspected he’d been transported to a military base on a planet under the Empire’s control.  The loud groaning sounds he heard in the middle of the night could only be a trash compactor.  Even a Star Destroyer wasn’t large enough to warrant its own trash compactor.  This had to be a base of some sort.  Something located away from any major city center and entirely self-sufficient. 

There was no escaping a place like this.  Gaheris had accepted that within hours of his arrival.  He just wished that Ursus or whoever was in command here would decide he had outlived his usefulness and end this already.  He wouldn’t be able to stand living in this tiny cell where the lights were always on and the trash compactor was his only measure of time for much longer.

He’d taken to pacing along the cell to just try and work out some of his nervous energy.  He could only manage about three steps at a time before he had to turn.  It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing—which was his alternative. 

He was in the middle of pacing across his cell when the door whooshed open.  Gaheris spun around as Ursus stepped into the doorway—his broad frame taking up almost the entirety of the cell door.  Gaheris swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.  Nothing good could come from a visit from Ursus.

“My demand to speak to the Senate Arms Committee still stands,” Gaheris said.

“There is no Senate—not anymore,” Ursus said.  Gaheris swallowed.  No senate?  How was that even possible?  “Even if the official report didn’t say that you died in the explosion that destroyed your ship, no one would be coming to help you.  You’re at the mercy of the Emperor.”

“Then I beg that of him,” Gaheris said.  “I don’t know what you expect to gain here, Lord Ursus.  I’m not a part of the rebellion and I know nothing of their strategy.  There’s nothing you can learn from me.”

“We shall see,” Ursus said, stepping aside. 

Gaheris stumbled back against the outcrop in the wall that served as a bed and a bench as a droid wheeled into his cell.  He sank down onto the outcrop, mentally trying to brace himself for what was to come.  He recognized this droid.  Devices of torture that the Emperor had long ago perfected against his prisoners.  Sometimes the Emperor had brought his captives onto the senate floor and let the droids work on them as an example.  A senate living in fear could barely act as any sort of check against the Emperor. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” Ursus said, stepping in behind the droid and letting the door whoosh shut behind him.  “Such as the location of the rebellion base.”

Hours later, Gaheris was stretched out across the floor of his cell, wishing that Ursus had just killed him.  His head was pounding and his stomach was doing flip flops.  He’d already thrown up twice during the torture.  The droid had kindly cleaned him and the cell after both incidents, but Gaheris didn’t think he would receive the same courtesy if he was sick again.  So he was writhing on the floor, legs pulled up against his chest, trying to hold it in.

His one consolation was that he hadn’t broke.  Of course, it wasn’t like there was much he could tell if he did break.  He didn’t actually know the location of the rebel base or how they intended to use plans they had stolen from the Empire.  But he did know about Morgan and Mordred—the last Knights of Avalon.  He knew who in the Lothian Court was loyal to the rebellion over the Empire.  He hadn’t let one word of it slip.  And he wouldn’t either.  Now that he’d survived one round of torture, he knew what to expect.  He’d be prepared next time.

Bile stared to rise in his throat and Gaheris clutched at his stomach, trying to hold it back.  Then there was warmth on his back, like someone pressing a hand between his shoulder blades.  His headache eased and his stomach quieted.  His breathing evened out and he started to drift off to sleep. 

The scent of spices was in the air.  He knew this aroma, but he couldn’t place it.  All he knew was that he suddenly felt safe, and loved. 

Mordred lit the pyres just as the sun started to rise.  The sunlight would mask the smoke and give him enough time to get away before anyone came to investigate.  The pyres were well built and self-contained.  Just because he couldn’t stay in Tintagel now didn’t mean he wouldn’t need the fortress in the future. 

He paused long enough after lighting the fires to bow his head in reverence.  Aunt Morgause and Agravain had given their lives for him.  The least he could do was take one last moment to thank them.  He had a feeling he wouldn’t get very many chances going forward.  Then, without a backward glance, he gathered up his stuff and took the lift down to the dock.  From there he took the boat out into the ocean, raising and locking Tintagel’s shield behind him.

He had no idea what had happened to Aunt Morgan or where she might have gone.  She should have followed him back to Tintagel.  That she hadn’t…maybe she had tried and something had happened?  He should have kept track of her instead of blindly racing back to Tintagel.  

She wouldn’t have gone back to her hermitage.  That was too dangerous.  If the Empire had managed to track the droid through the gnomes to Tintagel, they would eventually find their way to Morgan’s home as well.

No.  She couldn’t go home.  She wouldn’t go on without him either, right?  He was the chosen one or whatever—at least in her mind.  Her goal was to take him to the rebellion.  So it was safe to assume she was still on Cornwall somewhere.  But where?

Rather aimlessly, he returned to the site of the whirligig’ crash.  The wreckage would be long gone.  Either scattered by the waves or sunk by the merfolk.  Stupid to go back, really.  The surrounding waters would be infested with merfolk.  And yet…

It was almost like he was drawn to her location.  It wasn’t even in the same place as where he had left her.  And yet he’d known exactly where to find her.  That wasn’t even the most surprising part.  The wreckage was still whole.  The merfolk hadn’t sunk the whirligig.

“So is this the power of the Knights of Avalon?” Mordred asked, pulling his boat up alongside Morgan’s.  It had to have been her.  This Force power was the only way he could have possibly found her. 

“A small taste of it,” Morgan said.  “You’re family.  That makes it easier.”

“You must have known what was going to happen,” he said.

“Of course I did,” Morgan said.  “Even without the Force, it wouldn’t have been difficult to guess.  My sister and nephew never would have let you out on these waters alone under normal circumstances.  That they did told me all I needed to know.”

“You could have saved them,” Mordred said. 

“And risked your life in the process?” Morgan asked.  “They stayed behind so you could get away, Mordred.  To give you time to get to Cornasin and off this backwater rock.  And what have you done?  You’ve squandered their sacrifice.”

No.  That couldn’t be right.  Aunt Morgause had left her locket behind for him.  Mordred was barely able to keep himself from placing his hand over where it rested beneath his shirt.  Morgause, at least, had anticipated him returning to Tintagel.  He’d squandered nothing. 

“Perhaps if they had told me the truth instead of lying to me, we’d be gone by now,” Mordred said coldly.  He didn’t know why he hadn’t told Aunt Morgan the truth.  Deep down in his gut, he knew he couldn’t tell her about Aunt Morgause’s locket.  She’d disprove.

“Perhaps,” Morgan said, her voice equally as cold.  “Come along.  I managed to savage quite a bit off of the whirligig.  Hopefully we have enough to buy safe passage to Lothian.”

She powered on her boat and took off across the water at a speed that would only serve to attract merfolk attention.  Mordred followed her, matching her speed.  She’d kept her boat and the whirligig wreckage safe from the merfolk overnight.  The sea creatures weren’t worth fearing anymore. 

There was only the Empire.

Chapter Text

The sun was starting to set when they finally docked in Corasin.  Mordred was exhausted and barely paid any attention as Aunt Morgan paid for their places on the dock.  He did have enough sense to pull Tintagel’s shield controller out of his boat before joining Morgan on the dock.  It was entirely possible, knowing the culture of Cornasin, that they would never see these boats again.  Mordred didn’t care much for the boat, but Tintagel was still his.  So long as he had the shield controller in hand, no one else would be able to enter the fortress. 

“Stay close,” Morgan said, grabbing Mordred’s wrist in one hand and Dinadan’s arm in the other.  AC-LN used his arms to climb up her robe and perch on her shoulder. 

There were two lines of people leading up to the dock’s exit.  Checkpoints.  A handful of Stormtroopers stood at the end of each line.  They were paying particular attention to anyone traveling with droids.  Mordred’s chest tightened.  They were about to be found out.  There was no getting around this—not unless they went back to the boats.  Assuming the boats were still there. 

Completely unconcerned with the checkpoint, Morgan continued past the lines as if they weren’t there, pulling Mordred and Dinadan along behind her.  Mordred tried to stop and pull away from her.  People were going to start complaining and calling attention to themselves wouldn’t do them any good.

“Aunt Morgan, we can’t—” Mordred started to say.

“Hush,” Morgan said, tightening her grip on his wrist.

Mordred threw an apologetic glance at the people still waiting in line only to find that none of them were paying attention to him.  All eyes were on the Stormtroopers.

As for the Stormtroopers, they were completely engrossed in their interrogations.   They didn’t even look as Morgan pulled Mordred past them.  It was like they weren’t even there—invisible to all around them.  The Force again.  But this was no small taste.  It went far beyond luring one person to her location.  This was her will imposed on nearly a hundred beings. 

It was disconcerting to learn that she could control so many people with so little effort.  It made him wonder about his own place beside her.  Morgan was upset with him.  She disproved of the way he had constantly questioned her since she had told him about the prophecy.  What would happen to him when she decided she was no longer willing to tolerate his seconding guessing?

“There we are,” Morgan said once they were a good hundred meters past the checkpoint.  She finally let go of his wrist and Dinadan’s arm.  Mordred rubbed at the spot where she had been holding onto him. 

“My goodness,” Dinadan said, looking back at the Stormtroopers.  “Why didn’t they stop us?”

“The weak willed are particularly susceptible the power of the force,” Morgan said. 

All of them? Mordred wondered.  It was hard to believe every single being in that line was weak willed.  How could Aunt Morgan be so cavalier about subverting people’s wills like that?

“This is what we need,” Morgan said, turning off the main street and making her way towards the entrance of a shadier looking bar. 

“We’re going to find a pilot in there?” Mordred asked in disbelief. 

“No, of course not,” Morgan said.  “A regular pilot won’t do us any good—not with the way the Empire is crawling around this place.  They would declare the droids and then not even my power would be able to save us.  No, we need a smuggler.  Someone who isn’t afraid of tangling with the Empire.”

“And we’re going to find them here?” Mordred repeated.  Maybe it was his own exhaustion, but this bar didn’t look like a place anyone good at their job would frequent.  Smuggler or not.

“Yes, nephew,” Morgan said.  “I do believe we are.”

Morgan paused just within the bar, giving her eyes a chance to adjust to the low light and her ears a chance to adjust to the loud music.  As she waited, she considered her situation.  She considered Mordred.  He was far too stubborn for his own good.  That would have been frustrating enough on its own, but the problem was only compounded by his distrust.  Distrust of her.  She needed to not only gain his trust but ensure he only trusted her before they joined the rebellion.  Or else she would lose him.  Gawain and Gareth would take him under their wing and it would be no better than Morgause whispering in his ear again.  He would never achieve his destiny so long as he remained under her influence. 

Regaining his trust was her first step.  She couldn’t do anything with his loyalty until he trusted her.  She had to make him see her as an ally—as someone who could take care of him when there was trouble.  Morgan couldn’t risk anyone else stealing this moment from her.  Accolon, while loyal, could be frustratingly helpful when it put its mind to it.  She had to get the droids out of the way and isolate Mordred so he would look to her and her alone when the moment came.         

She pinged the bartender, tugging at his mind with the power of the Force.  All those fears and concerns about the Stormtroopers just outside his door.  It was easy enough to nudge him into the reaction she wanted.

“Hey!” the bartender yelled, motioning to them.  “You stupid or are you just looking for trouble?”

“I beg your pardon?” Morgan asked, feigning confusion.

“The droids,” the bartender said.  “The Empire’s crawling all over the station looking for droids.  That’s trouble we don’t want in here.  They’ll have to leave.”

“Yes, of course,” Morgan said, turning to face the droids and motioning to the door.  “Best be going.  We don’t want any trouble either.”

“Is that safe?” Mordred asked softly, his concern evident. 

“I believe so,” Morgan said.  “Accolon is quite adept at getting itself and Dinadan out of trouble.  I wouldn’t worry about them.”

Mordred couldn’t say anything else as the droids were already leaving.  She could feel his distress and his growing sense of isolation.  He had thought of the droids as his allies before but now, seeing how they obeyed her without question, he was starting to realize how alone he really was.  He was starting to realize how much he needed her. 

Together they made their way up to the bar.  Mordred caught the bartender’s attention and ordered drinks while Morgan seemingly focused on finding them a pilot.  In reality, most of her attention was on the two aggressive aliens her nephew just happened to be standing next to.  She pinged both their minds and found an endless supply of anger that was easily manipulated toward an unsuspecting target. 

One of the aliens gave Mordred a shove right as the bartender passed him their drinks.  Only a lifetime of wrangling slippery fish kept Mordred from dropping both cups.  Morgan heard him curse softly and spared a quick glance in time to see him place both drinks on the bar, his hands dripping with liquid.  Then she returned to her conversation with the dwarf next to her.  By all appearances, she was completely uninterested in what was going on next to her. 

“Excuse you,” she heard one of the other aliens say. 

“You--,” she heard Mordred start to say, but then he must have thought better of whatever he had been about to say.  "Uh, right.  Excuse me.  I'm sorry for bumping into  you."  Morgan smiled, as that was exactly the wrong thing for Mordred to have said.  She released both of the aliens.  Their own aggression would take things from here.  Her nephew had seen to that. 

The second alien gave Mordred another shove.  “You should be sorry.  Smug fisherman walking around like you own the place.  Yeah.  We know your type.  We can smell the stink a mile away.  Well I’ve got news for you, boy.  You’re not welcome here.”

“We’re just looking for a pilot,” Mordred said.  “And then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“You’ll be out of our hair alright,” the second alien said, giving Mordred a final shove.  That gave Morgan the opening she was looking for to intervene.

“Gentlemen, please,” Morgan said, resting a comforting hand on Mordred’s shoulder as she nudged at the alien’s aggression once more with the force.  “We’re not looking for trouble.  Now please, let me buy you a drink.”

One more nudge was all it took.  The second alien howled in rage as it grabbed Mordred by the shoulders and tossed him across the room and into the nearest table.  It was the reaction Morgan had been expecting.  As the alien reached for its blaster, Morgan pulled her Caliburn sword from her belt.  The blade appeared as she swung it around in her hand.  A half swing was all it took to sever the alien’s arm from its body.  The alien howled, clutching the stump of its arm.  A wound from a Caliburn blade couldn’t kill, but the blood oozing out of the otherwise cauterized wound proved that they also never healed.  The creature would survive but the pain would never ease.       

As the two aliens scurried off, the blade from Morgan’s sword disappeared and she returned the weapon to her belt.  She turned to face Mordred.  The look he was giving her was a picture of relief and gratitude.  Exactly what she was looking for. 

“Are you alright?” Morgan asked, helping him to his feet.

“Yeah,” Mordred said.  He sounded shaky.  He glanced down at the abandoned limb and Morgan could feel his unease as he took another step closer to her.  “Thank you.”

“Of course, nephew,” Morgan said warmly.  She rested one hand on Mordred’s shoulder and motioned to the dwarf with the other.  “Now come.  Axatalese here is the first mate on a ship that sounds promising.”

Chapter Text

Mordred rubbed a hand along the back of his neck as he followed Aunt Morgan and the dwarf—Axatalese—to the back of the bar. Being thrown into a table had hurt enough on its own, but he also had yesterday’s aches from the merfolk attack to contend with. He couldn’t seem to focus on much beyond putting one foot in front of the other and very nearly ran into a hooded alien trying to rush out of the bar. Finally, Aunt Morgan pulled him to a stop in front of a corner booth.

A dark skinned woman lounged in the center of the booth. One arm was slung over the backrest while the other was wrapped around the leg she had lifted up onto the booth with her. A blaster hung at her hip while another rested on the table in front of her. She had a whole galaxy’s worth of confidence around her.

“Well, Ax?” she asked, her eyes on the dwarf. “What have you brought for us today?”

“Passengers,” the dwarf said, climbing up into the booth with her. “Looking for transport.”

“And you are?” Aunt Morgan asked.

“Lynette Perilous,” the woman said. “Captain of the Savage Damsel.”

“Ah,” Aunt Morgan said, taking a seat in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the booth. “So you’re Captain Perilous.”

“And you’re a woman looking for transport,” Lynette said.

“I am,” Aunt Moran said. “Ideally it’s a fast ship, but subtlety is far more important. Can you provide?”

“Yes,” Lynette said.

“That’s it? That’s your answer?” The words were out of Mordred’s mouth before he’d had a chance to consider how monumentally stupid they were. He’d already gotten into one fight since entering the bar and Captain Perilous did not look like a woman who would hesitate to shoot him if it caught her fancy.”

Lynette gave him a withering look. “Sorry, I’m used to clients knowing my reputation before they approach me. The fact that you two don’t… I don’t know. I don’t like it. I think it’d be best if you looked for your transport elsewhere.”

“I would rethink that if I were you,” Aunt Morgan said. “We can pay. Whatever your cost, money will not be an issue.”

Lynette looked thoughtful—as though she was seriously reconsidering taking them on against her better judgement. “Where are you headed?”

“Lothian,” Aunt Morgan said.

“Is it just you two or will there be cargo as well?”

“Just us and two droids.”

“Those wouldn’t happen to be the droids Imperial Stormtroopers are crawling all over the station looking for, would they?” Axatalese asked.

“Does it matter if they are?” Aunt Morgan asked. “Would you bargain with the Empire or would you prefer to not ask any further questions? What’s your silence worth, Captain Perilous?”

“If you’re dead set on flying on the Damsel, old lady, I am more than happy to make that happen. But my silence does not come cheap.”

“Please, name your price,” Aunt Morgan said.

“Ten thousand. Upfront.”

“Ten thousand?” Mordred repeated. Once again speaking before he could think better of it and stop himself. Oh well. Lynette hadn’t shot him yet. She probably wasn’t going to shoot him now. “We may as well buy our own ship.”

“Aw, and who’s going to fly it, puppy?” Lynette asked. “You?”

Mordred shrugged. “I could. The controls on our boats are the exact same ones you’d find on a starship. We pull them right out of the scrap.”

Aunt Morgan rested a hand on his shoulder, quieting him. “I would more than happy to pay you two thousand upfront.” Lynette smirked, as though she had known Aunt Morgan would never be able to follow through. “And another fifteen when we reach Lothian.”

“Fifteen… fifteen thousand?” Lyentte asked. Aunt Morgan nodded. “Seventeen thousand? You’re willing to put down seventeen thousand for a simple transport?”

“And your silence,” Aunt Morgan said.

“Okay,” Lynette said, her eyes wide as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “It’s your money, old lady. Who am I to tell you how to spend it? Our silence dictates that we should leave as soon as you’re ready. Docking bay 94.”

Aunt Morgan nodded before turning to look at something behind them. A pair of Stormtroopers had entered the bar and were asking questions of the patrons. So much for avoiding trouble by banning droids.

“If I were you, old lady, I’d get your cargo together before silence becomes complicated,” Lynette said. 

“Come, Mordred,” Aunt Morgan said, getting to her feet.

“There’s a back exit just around that corner,” Lynette said, motioning to a hallway a few feet away from her booth.

“Thank you,” Aunt Morgan said with a nod. “94.”

“94,” Lynette agreed, and then they were off.

Lynette Perilous said nothing as her passengers whisked themselves away. When the Stormtroopers walked past her booth, she focused on her drink while absently tapping on the grip of her blaster in case they got any ideas. They didn’t and moved past her booth without a word. As soon as they were out of sight, Lynette laughed and clapped her hands together. She felt as though a giant weight had been lifted off her chest.

“She played you,” Ax said. “She knew you had a number where you’d thrown caution to the wind and she went for it.”

“Who cares so long as she can pay,” Lynette said. “And if she can’t, there’s always the Empire to fall back on. Either way, Ironside gets his money. It’s a win-win for us, Ax.”

“So why’d the old lady look like she’d won and you’d lost?” Ax asked, hopping out of the booth. “I’m going to go prep the ship. Try to stay out of trouble for the next half hour.”

“That may not be possible,” Lynette said, downing her drink as she eyed the man dressed in black armor who was watching her from across the bar.

“Try anyway,” Ax said before following their customers out the back entrance.

Lynette got to her feet and stowed her second blaster back in its holster. For a moment she considered following Ax out the back. She quickly discarded the idea and confidently strode towards the main entrance. She wanted to see if her black armored stalker had it in him to confront her in such a public place.

He grabbed her by the arm as she tried to pass his spot at the bar. His other hand lifted his blaster so it was tucked right under her chin.

“Captain Perilous,” he said.

“Sir Perarde,” Lynette said. “Of the Right Honorable Order of Bounty Hunters.”

“Going somewhere?” Perarde asked.

“Yes. I was going to find a dark alley so you could finally stop skulking around and make your move. Didn’t think you’d dare do it somewhere so crowded.”

“Oh, Lynette,” Perarde said. “An old woman just cut off a patron’s hand and the barkeep didn’t appear to care. I think you might have fared better in the alley for all the help you’ll get here.”

Perarde pushed her back away from the bar and forced her into another booth. Lynette lifted her leg up onto the seat as Perarde sat down across from her, his gun never wavering from her face. With his free hand, he pulled off his helmet and rested it on the table next to him.

“Look, Perarde, all of this is just a little premature. You can tell Ironside to call off his dogs. I’ve got the money.”

“Do you now?” Perarde asked. “Let’s see.”

“Oh, please, Perarde,” Lynette scoffed. “Even if I did have it with me, I wouldn’t show you. You’d just take it for yourself and let the rest of the rainbow have their crack at me.”

“So I’m to assume then that you don’t have Ironside’s money?”

“I have a job. Some payment now, most when it’s complete. Ironside will have his money by the end of the week. There’s no reason for this to get messy.”

“You dropped his cargo, Lynette,” Perarde said. “You’re supposed to be the best of the best. And yet the moment an Imperial cruiser starts breathing down your neck, you drop his most precious cargo into the cold, vastness of space. Imagine how disappointed Ironside was when he learned that Perilyn’s illegal goods survived the inspection and made it to their destination unharmed.”

“Leave Perilyn out of this,” Lynette warned, leaning forward and slamming one hand against the table while the other dropped to the blaster at her waist.

“How can we, Lynette? Everyone knows that’s your weakness. No doubt the other members of the rainbow, as you so charmingly call them, have already been dispatched to Perilyn in hopes that you might seek refuge there. But I know better, Lynette. You’d never risk Perilyn in such a way. You’d never risk her in such a way. How long do you think it will take for Ironside to figure that out?”

“Not long enough,” Lynette said, slowly sliding the blaster out of its holster. “I told you. I have the money. In a couple days, Ironside will be compensated and we can part ways on good terms.”

Perarde chuckled. “Oh, Lynette. Do you really believe I’ll just let you walk out of here to disappear into the vastness of space? No, my dear. It’s time for you to see Ironside. If you’re lucky, he’ll only take the Damsel.”

“Oh, Perarde,” Lynette said, mocking his tone. She shifted the blaster in her hand so it was aimed up at the table. “If you really think I’m just going to stand by while you escort me to Ironside, you’re not half as smart as you think you are.”

“I was hoping you might say that,” Perarde said, leaning forward. “I warn you, Lynette. I have been trained in all forms of combat and marksmanship. And this armor here will protect me against any of your usual tricks. There is no escape for you.”

Lynette waved a finger at him. “You know what your problem is?”

“Do tell,” Perarde said, half standing up so he could lean in ever closer.

“You talk too much,” Lynette said and pulled the trigger.

The shot blasted a hole through the table and caught Perarde right in the jaw. Lynette wondered if he’d had enough time to regret removing his helmet as the point blank shot sent his body crashing back into the booth with enough force that he bounce forward and dropped onto the ruined table. Lynette kept her eyes on the steaming, mangled mess that had been Perarde’s face as she reholstered her blaster and got to her feet. Reaching around the body, Lynette plucked Perarde’s money bag from his belt.

Turning, Lynette found herself facing an audience at the bar. With as much swagger as she could muster, Lynette crossed the room and made right for the bartender.

“My friend would like to apologize for the mess he made,” Lynette said, holding out Perade’s money bag. “Next round’s on him.” She pulled the bag back as the bartender reached for it. “Just make sure he’s left alone for the evening. He’d be so embarrassed if anyone saw him like this.”

The bartender nodded dumbly and Lynette let him have the bag. She let her swagger drop and jogged out of the bar. She’d bought herself a little time. Now she just needed to corral her passengers and get off this rock before any further trouble found them.

Notes:

Lady Lynette's story begins with her escaping her home at Castle Perilous after it is attacked by a recreant knight known as Sir Ironside.  She goes to Camelot and begs Arthur to send a knight to her kingdom to fight of Ironside.  Due to an agreement made earlier, Arthur owes a favor to one of the kitchen boys, who begs him for the chance to rescue Castle Perilous.  Saddled with what she believes is an untrained peasant, Lynette belittles the kitchen boy so thoroughly she earns herself the nickname Savage Damsel. 

The kitchen boy often has a dwarf as his traveling companion in this story.  Although usually unnamed, Howard Pyle called the character Axatalese and I am using that here.  On their journey to Castle Perilous, the kitchen boy has to fight and defeat four knights in different colored armor.  The first one wore black armor and was named Sir Perade.     

Chapter Text

They sold the boats and whirligig parts in exchange for the upfront money Aunt Morgan had agreed to pay Captain Perilous. Well, Mordred made the sale while Aunt Morgan rounded up Dinadan and AC-LN. Mordred tried not to think about how much trouble the two droids could have gotten into in a city crawling with Imperial Stormtroopers who were looking for them. Instead he focused on getting the money they needed to get off of Cornwall before anyone started looking at them too closely.

It was a hard negotiation and Mordred fought tooth and nail against the gnomes to get the two thousand they needed. Aunt Morgan had told him to sell the boats and parts and while she hadn’t suggested anything else before leaving to find the droids, Mordred knew Tintagel would be on the table if what they had couldn’t provide the funds they needed. Morgan’s home was little more than a hovel. A technologically advanced hovel, but it’s location in merfolk infested waters would make it a hard sell. Especially when they didn’t have time to take potential buyers there to prove it was as well stocked with shielding technology as they said. Tintagel was a known quantity to anyone on Cornwall and would make for a much easier sale.

But Tintagel was in his care now and Mordred had no intention of letting it go without a fight. So he held fast against the chattering insistence of the gnomes and in the end walked away with the two thousand they needed and Tintagel’s shield controller still attached to his belt.

Giddy with relief, Mordred made his way toward docking bay 94, where Aunt Morgan and the droids would hopefully be meeting him. On his way, Mordred passed by a hooded figure he had seen before. Slowing to a stop, Mordred turned and watched the creature disappear into the crowd of passersby.

They had been at the bar. They had left the bar in a hurry after Aunt Morgan had attacked that alien. And he had seen it again while bartering with the gnomes. In fact, now that he thought about it, that alien had practically been hovering over him during the negotiation. It had been constantly moving in and out of his peripheral vision.

“We’re here.”

His attention pulled away from the hooded alien, Mordred turned to find Aunt Morgan and the droids standing right behind him.

“And as you can see, they are both in one piece,” Aunt Morgan continued and AC-LN buzzed exuberantly.

“What do you mean there was no trouble?” Dinadan asked, indignant. “There was a whole host of trouble and I’m well aware that this is all your fault.”

Frowning get, Mordred looked back over his shoulder to see if the hooded alien had rematerialized back out of the crowd. It hadn’t. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

“Is everything alright?” Aunt Morgan asked. “Did you get the money we need?”

“Yeah,” Mordred said, forcing himself to put the alien out of his mind. “We’re ready to go.”

“Wonderful,” Aunt Morgan said, slipping her arm into his as they headed toward the docking bay. “It’s a big galaxy out there, nephew. With wonders you’ve never even dreamt of growing up in a place like this. I can’t wait to show it—all of it—to you.”

Mordred tried to smile. Hadn’t this been what he had been dreaming of? A chance to get off of Cornwall and finally do something that mattered? And not only did this mission matter more than he had ever thought possible, so did he. He was unique. Special. Prophesied to save them all. But at what cost? Aunt Morgause and Agravain’s had already given their lives to protect him. Gaheris was as good as dead and he had simply been tasked with bringing Mordred a message. The boats were gone—all to pay a smuggler who thought far too highly of herself—and he’d barely manage to hold onto Tintagel.

There may have been wonders in the galaxy, but there were very clearly dangers too.

Entering docking bay 94, Mordred felt his heart drop as he got his first good look at the Savage Damsel. It was a piece of junk—and that was putting it kindly. It was oval shaped and small. So thin it was barely tall enough to house one level of living quarters and cargo storage and so narrow there was barely enough room for the required mechanics outside of that. Worse, it looked like it had been cobbled together from thousands, if not millions, of other ships. There were not two consecutive inches on that hull that appeared to have come from the same source.

“Seriously?” Mordred said under his breath.

“Yes, heaven forbid a smuggler’s ship not appear to be state of the art,” Lynette said from behind him, causing Mordred to start. The captain pushed her way between him and Aunt Morgan and spun around to face them. “There certainly aren’t any advantages to flying a ship that looks like she’s barely able to get off the ground.”

“Is she?” Mordred asked. “Able to get off the ground?”

Lynette stepped forward so there was barely any space between them. They were about the same height, Mordred realized as he stared her down. Funny. She had come off as such a towering figure when she had been tucked behind that booth.

“Here’s the deal, puppy,” Lynette said. “I bet you and I will get along so much better if you stop opening your mouth when it comes to things you don’t understand. Can you agree to work on that going forward or are we going to have a problem?”

Mordred took a step backwards and glanced at Aunt Morgan. The look she was giving him left him more confused than Lynette’s sudden aggression. It was a look of pleasure. Pride, maybe? If he was feeling generous. But prideful of what? Something he had done…or something Lynette had done?

“Are we ready to leave?” Aunt Morgan asked.

“Payment?” Lynette replied, holding out a hand to Aunt Morgan. She motioned to Mordred, who passed the money he had gotten from the boats to Lynette without a word. “Wonderful. Now, in keeping with silence, I recommend you all get on board before things become…”

Lynette trailed off, her gaze on something behind them. Mordred turned in time to see the hooded alien darting past the entrance of the docking bay. Looking back at Lynette, Mordred realized he had been right to be suspicions of the alien. If the horrified look on Lynette’s face was anything to judge by, things were about to go very, very bad. 

“Get on the ship,” Lynette said, grabbing his shoulder and giving him a shove towards the Damsel. Mordred stumbled as he turned to watch her run towards the bay door. Then he was swept up in helping Dinadan reach the ship in a timely manner. Aunt Morgan and AC-LN had already raced aboard without a second thought.

Lynette reached the gangplank of the ship just as Mordred did. She raced past him, stopping only when she reached the top and was able to poke her head into the hallway.

“Ax, get us out of here!” she yelled.

“What?” the dwarf yelled back. “I thought you wanted to finish the lightspeed calculations before we went airborne.”

“Would I be asking if it wasn’t important?” Lynette snapped. As they both turned back to the docking bay, Mordred realized she wasn’t at all surprised to see the squadron of Imperial Stormtroopers jogging through the entrance.

“Stop!” the leader yelled, raising his weapon. “This ship is under Imperial—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish as Lynette pulled one of the blasters from her belt and fired on him. Mordred barely had time to react as she pulled free her second blaster and tossed at him. He very nearly fumbled it, but as soon as the weapon was firmly in his grasp, he knew exactly what to do with it. He had taken out enough merfolk in his lifetime that the Stormtroopers, with their bright, white armor, were almost easy pickings.

Next to him, Lynette fumbled at the door controls with her free hand without taking her eyes off the Stormtroopers. The Damsel hummed to life and lifted up off the ground as the gangplank also lifted upwards, sealing them in and away from the Stormtroopers. The Damsel shuddered as it continued to take a barrage of blaster fire and Mordred stumbled into Dinadan. The droid had just managed to get into the hallway before the shooting had started.

“Are you alright?” he asked. A low, unhappy groan was his only answer.

“Nice shooting, puppy,” Lynette said, clapping a hand on his shoulder as she raced by him, heading towards the cockpit. Mordred moved more slowly, helping Dinadan along. Things did not get better after they moved out of range of the blaster fire. If anything, things got worse as the Damsel struggled to clear the atmosphere.

Leaving Dinadan in the (hopefully) capable hands of AC-LN, Mordred went to join his Aunt, Lynette, and Ax in the cockpit. He just barely made it to the cockpit when a blast hit the ship with enough force to send him tumbling into the nearest chair. Fortunately it was the only one left unoccupied.

“Oh, look, an Imperial Star Destroy,” Lynette said. Mordred looked up and through the cockpit windows saw the large ship looming before them. It was bigger than he had ever imagined one could be. It wasn’t moving. It was well aware it had cut off their only escape route.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two really know how to have a good time,” Lynette continued. Ax jerked at the controls, maneuvering them out of the way of another blast. Lynette wasn’t flying, Mordred realized. All of her attention was on one of the readout panels.

“Is it safe to jump to hyperspace?” Aunt Morgan asked.

Lynette shook her head. “No. Nav computer’s still running through the calculations and I don’t want to override it unless we’re dead in the water. Or else we could end up somewhere a lot worse than here.”

Another blast sent them all jostling in their seats.

“Is that even possible?” Mordred asked.

“Sure is, puppy. We could end up in a sun or a black hole,” Lynette said. “The possibilities are endless.”

Another blast and Mordred was certain the ship was going to simply reverberate apart at any moment.

“Ax?” Lynette said, grabbing the piloting controls in front of her.

The dwarf slapped haphazardly at one of the buttons and the lights on his controls went dead while the panel in front of Lynette lit up. “Aye, lass, she’s all yours.”

Lynette was already moving. She pulled and pushed at the controls in her hand and the Damsel gunned forward—heading right for the Imperial Star Destroyer. As far as Mordred could tell, she had put them on a collision course with the cruiser’s main tower.

“What are you doing?” Aunt Morgan asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“Hang on,” Lynette said as they sped over the main wedge of the cruiser. The main cannons from the tower stopped firing on them as smaller guns along the hull of the ship took their turn. The Damsel blew past them all. It was Lynette’s course, Mordred realized. Flying straight down the center of the Star Destroyer meant that the small guns would never be able to keep up with them while the canons couldn’t fire for fear of damaging the ship.

“Pull off,” Aunt Morgan said as the tower loomed ever closer.

“No,” Lynette said.

“Pull off,” Aunt Morgan said again, her voice hard. Lynette shook her head, as if she was fighting off some sort of daze. Mordred looked at Aunt Morgan in horror, fully aware of what she had just tried to do.

“Ax, shut her up,” Lynette snapped.

Ax turned in his seat, blaster in hand. “Let her fly.”

Breath held, Mordred watched as the tower continued to grow in size. At the last second, Lynette spun the Damsel to the side. Mordred nearly vomited as he stayed upright while the world outside the Damsel spun sideways. The Damsel flew along the side of the tower and Lynette didn’t righten it until the cruiser was behind them.

An alarm on the control panel started shrieking. Confident that they wouldn’t cause any more trouble, Ax turned back to the controls.

“Two more destroyers approaching,” Ax said.

“They’ll cut us off,” Morgan said. “And you will not be able to perform that trick again.”

“Ax, how are those calculations looking?” Lynette asked.

 He didn’t get a chance to answer as another blast hit the ship followed by the sound of a new alarma. “The deflector’s going. Lass—”

“Put in the override code,” Lynette said as she started flipping switches and pressing buttons on the control panel. Ax yelled something indistinguishable as the Damsel was rattled by another hit. Lynette slammed her hand down on the control panel and Mordred was thrown back into his seat as the space outside the cockpit turned white.

Ursus was studying tapes from Prince Gaheris’ interrogation when Tiberius found him in the detention wing. Unusual. Tiberius rarely came looking for him. Usually he just summoned Ursus to his current location. That the Grand Moff was on the prowl did not bode well at all.

Ursus said nothing as Tiberius stood at attention behind him. He had nothing to say. The Grand Moff had sought him out. It was on Tiberius to initiate the talking, if that was what he so desired. Until then, Ursus would continue to study the tapes in hopes of having a breakthrough.

“He won’t break,” Tiberius finally said. “Not that way.”

“Give it time,” Ursus said.

“Time we do not have,” Tiberius said. “I have just received word that our men on Cornwall were unsuccessful. The plans are no longer on the planet.”

Ursus finally turned away from the video screen. “That’s impossible. I was closely monitoring the situation on Cornwall. We had men on the ground in Cornasin and the Red Station and a blockade of five Imperial Star Destroyers around the planet. A ship could not have possibly escaped inspection.”

“And yet one did,” Tiberius said. “Don’t look so surprised, Ursus. That’s a world of criminals.”

“Betrayers and backstabbers,” Ursus said. “Someone should have turned the plans over to us.”

“Someone tried,” Tiberius said with a shrug. “Someone else got the better of them. We underestimated the hatred these people have for the law and how it interacts with their love of money. Once again, we overlooked the power of the rebellion’s wealth. Now we have days, at most, before the plans are in the rebellion’s possession and this battle station will be tested as it has never been tested before.”

“You seem awfully calm for a man in your position,” Ursus said. “The Emperor won’t forgive you if this station is damaged before he’s had a chance to show off its full might.”

“Yes, I was just thinking of that,” Tiberius said. “And that got me thinking about Prince Gaheris’ great mental will. That’s when I realized that we won’t have a problem if we can get to the rebellion before the plans do.”

“You said we have only days,” Ursus said. “You were right earlier. We don’t have time to wait for Prince Gaheris to break.”

“No, not that way,” Tiberius agreed. “But you’ll be happy to know that the Death Star passed her final safety check an all systems are operational. I have informed the Emperor and he has left it to me to select a target for the weapon’s first test.”

“What does this have to do with Price Gaheris or the rebellion?”

“I’ve ordered us to Lothian,” Tiberius said, looking far too jubilant for a man who was about to doom a whole planet. “Let’s see how well his highness fares when it’s not just his life on the line.”

Chapter Text

Hours after they had made the jump to lightspeed, Morgan found Mordred tucked away at the table of what could only be the ship’s mess. Like everything else on the Damsel, it was small, cramped, and had clearly been designed to serve multiple functions. The table had some sort of interface built into it and right now a holographic chess display was spread out on the table. Her nephew versus Accolon. The droid was crushing him, no surprise there.

“Unless you see a comeback in your future, I thought it might be prudent to begin working on some exercises,” Morgan said, motioning to the Caliburn sword hanging at Mordred’s waist.

He didn’t say anything, but the look he gave her was one of barely concealed disgust. He’d been sulky ever since they’d made the jump to lightspeed—barely deigning to make eye contact with her. He was clearly upset about something, but for the life of her Morgan couldn’t figure out what.

“Or we could talk and you can tell me what’s bothering you,” she continued.

“You tried to manipulate Lynette with the force during our escape,” Mordred said. It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation.

“You felt that?” Morgan blurted out before she could even consider denying it. If he had felt her tugging at Lynette’s mind during her reckless flight, what else had he felt? Did he know she had pushed Lynette into turning on him at the docks? What about the fight at the bar? Had she lost him before she’d even had a chance to train him?

“No,” Mordred said. “I didn’t need to. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“I overreacted,” Morgan said, trying to keep her relief from showing through. He was guessing here and he didn’t suspect any of her other manipulation so far. “She nearly got us killed.”

“You nearly got us killed,” Mordred said. “If she had pulled off at your command, we would have been hit.”

“I panicked,” Morgan said. “You don’t understand how valuable you are, Mordred. I would do anything to protect you.”

“How many?” Mordred asked, getting to his feet. “How many people have you violated like that in the day I’ve been traveling with you? Did Lynette take us on as passengers because she wanted to or because you forced her? Did you try to use your powers on the aliens in the bar when they attacked me? Am I…am I here because I want to be or because it’s where you want me?”

“I told you, only the weak willed are susceptible to these manipulations,” Morgan said. “You’re not weak willed and neither is Captain Perilous. She didn’t even blink when I tried to influence her. Surely that alone proves that I’ve been nothing but honest with you regarding my powers.”

“No,” Mordred said, shaking his head. “You’re far too cavalier about what you’re doing for that to be the end of it.”

“What do you want me to say, nephew? That I’m sorry I manipulated Stormtroopers to protect you and the droids? That I’m sorry I reacted in panic when I thought we were going to die? I’m not sorry for either of those things.”

“I want some indication that you understand that what you’re doing is wrong. That it’s a violation—”

“That’s Morgause talking, not you,” Morgan snapped and Mordred closed his mouth. “My sister was a kind, wonderful, benevolent woman with a naïve understanding of how the galaxy works. Despite all her losses, she never really did come to understand that this is war and it requires hard choices. Any point of view that deviated from her righteous code of honor was unwelcome and unwanted. You may well develop a similar code one day, but I won’t stand idly by as you parrot my sister’s views back to me without a second thought. It’s time you became your own man and came to your own conclusions outside her influence.”

Mordred sighed and ran a hand over his face. It was clear that he was too exhausted to think straight. Even if she had thought she could influence him directly with the force without him noticing, Morgan wouldn’t have needed to at this juncture. He was dependent on her. He needed her because there was no one else he could turn to. She was his world, at least for the next couple of days. He didn’t want to fight her—wouldn’t fight her unless he was absolutely certain she was wrong. And now he wasn’t.

Crisis averted, then.

“To that end,” Morgan said, softening her tone. “I truly do believe that an hour or so of training would do you some good at this juncture. Clear your head. Take your mind off of everything that’s happened.”

Mordred nodded and let Morgan lead him to the center of the room. For the next hour Morgan led him through basic form and footwork. She was a relentless taskmaster and every mistake was met with a harsh word of criticism. Mordred took it all without complaint. He was exhausted and after the fight they had just had, he was unwilling to argue with her. Morgan didn’t even need to try that hard to feel his emotions. He wanted to please her. He wanted desperately to get this right so she would excuse him. He wanted to rest. But as the training went on, the aches from his two violent encounters became more pronounced and he made more and more mistakes. Morgan did not let a single one slip by her notice.

So engrossed in the training, Morgan very nearly missed it when Lynette entered the room. It was the captain’s confidence that tipped her off. Her over-inflated sense of self-worth filled every room she occupied. Mordred missed Lynette’s arrival entirely and Morgan very much wanted to keep it that way. She nudged at Lynette’s mind with her own only to find herself facing down an iron will that was unlikely to bend anytime soon.

Lynette had been easy enough to manipulate down on the planet. She had been distracted and nervous and Morgan had been able to swoop in and direct those emotions at the wrong target. Ever since then, Lynette had been single minded in her focus. Morgan suspected she would not have so easy a time manipulating Captain Perilous ever again.

“So,” Lynette said and Mordred started, nearly dropping his Caliburn sword. “Repairs are finished and I just checked the nav computer’s calculations. It looks like we have an easy trip ahead of us. Didn’t even catch an asteroid belt in our rush to jump to hyperspace.” 

“And the Star Destroyers?” Morgan asked. So long as Lynette insisted on being here, she may as well make herself useful.

“Currently eating my stardust,” Lynette said with a devilish smile. “Sensors indicate no ships matching our current course.”

“I see,” Morgan said.

“‘Yay Lynette, thank you so much,’” Lynette said, her voice soft and pitched high. “‘I knew you could outrun them and never doubted the Damsel for a second.’” Mordred laughed and Lynette grinned as she pointed at him. “See, old lady, the puppy appreciates me. But then the puppy probably appreciates everyone and that’s not half the compliment I think it is.”

“Did you require something?” Morgan asked.

“Yes. I just wanted to let you know that your rooms are ready.”

“Rooms?” Morgan asked. She had thought that she and Mordred would be bunking together. Expected it, really.

“Yeah, when the choice came down to one big room or several small rooms, we opted for small,” Lynette said. “They’re not much in the way of comfort, so I doubt you’ll be spending much time there. But they’re good enough for a couple hours of sleep. Which, judging by the looks of things, the two of you desperately need.”

Morgan dearly wanted to dismiss Lynette. She wanted to go at least another hour with Mordred—to see how far she could push him. His exhaustion served her purposes while Lynette’s attempts to shift into an ally did not. She gave the other woman another nudge only to find that iron will was as formidable as ever. The captain wasn’t going to back down and any attempt to supersede her will on her own ship would be met head on. Morgan would have to use a softer touch.

“Thank you,” Morgan said. “Your offer is much appreciated. It’s been a long day and I don’t think either of us realize just how tired we actually are.”

Lynette simply nodded as Morgan and Mordred gathered up their meager packs of belongings before following her to their assigned rooms. While separated from Mordred, Morgan wasn’t at all surprised to find herself sharing her space with Accolon. Morgan smiled as she ran her hands over the astromech’s dented hull, charmed by the loyalty. If nothing else, Accolon would always be there. Standing resolutely at her side.

Chapter Text

Mordred woke from a deep sleep to the smell of spices. At least he thought he smelled spices. The scent wafting at his nose jolted him awake. For a moment he was certain he had overslept and that he was seconds away from Agravain dumping a bucket of water on his head. His certainty was followed by confusion as he took in the strange, small room he found himself in and the smell of spices faded from his mind. He blinked once as the past two days came back to him and buried his face in his hands.

He hadn’t thought he would sleep after Lynette dropped him off at what could only be called a broom closet. He must have been more tired than he had thought as he couldn’t remember much else after he had said goodnight to Aunt Morgan. And now, thanks to whatever dream, memory, or internal clock that had jolted him into consciousness, he was wide awake and restless.

Mordred didn’t even bother trying to get back to sleep. Instead he awkwardly maneuvered through the acrobatics required to get off the bed and through the door. Not an easy feat, as he had learned last night, but better now that he was more awake. Once out of his broom closet, he made his way back toward the mess.

To his surprise, the mess wasn’t empty when he arrived. Lynette was there, standing at a counter making some food. Dinadan was also there, still sitting at the table where they left him after he had assured Mordred that he was comfortable where he was and didn’t require a room of his own. Mordred paused in the hallway, unwilling to intrude. Then Lynette glanced in his direction and grinned. That was all the invitation he needed.

“Do you ever sleep?” Mordred asked, making his way into the mess. She didn’t look like she had slept, which meant that she had been awake and active since before they had met her in the bar.

“It’s my shift,” Lynette said. “Ax will relieve me within the hour. What about you, puppy? It’s only been a couple hours. You need more sleep than that.”

“Okay,” Mordred said, because he could not take much more of this. “Why ‘puppy?’”

“Well, after I saw you following the old lady though the bar with an over-eager, desperate to please look on your face, what else was I supposed to call you?”

Mordred shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He hadn’t thought he had come across as desperate to please Aunt Morgan during their meeting with Lynette. But the whole thing, especially the moments leading up to meeting her, were fuzzy. Her perception of that moment may have been entirely accurate. It made Mordred nervous. Were those moments fuzzy because he had just been thrown into a table or were they fuzzy because of something Aunt Morgan had done?

“Hungry?” Lynette asked, holding out a bowl of green-gray goop. Mordred made a face before he could stop himself. “Aw, come on. It’s not that bad. I mean, it’s never going to compare to freshly caught fish, but we have to make do with what keeps up here. As far as dehydrated rations go, it’s almost good.”

Mordred took the offered bowl and tried not to think about the color, texture, or smell as he lifted the spoon to his mouth. Lynette wasn’t wrong. Technically the taste wasn’t all that bad on its own. It was the texture and smell he was going to have a problem stomaching.

Lowering the bowl as far away from his face as he could without placing it on the counter and returning to his broom closet, Mordred turned his attention to Dinadan. The droid was sitting patiently at the table. The lights beneath his glass casing had changed to a rosy pink color. It made Dinadan the picture of contentment.    

“Hello, sir,” Dinadan said, noticing Mordred’s gaze on him. “Are you well?”

“I am,” Mordred said. “And you? I know this probably wasn’t what you expected when you were bought by a family of fishermen.”

“On the contrary, sir,” Dinadan said. “This endeavor has been far more relaxing than my last adventure on the Gringolet.” Even though Mordred wasn’t sure how that was possible at this point, he believed it. The damage to AC-LN’s casing was proof enough. “And I have spent my free time regaling Captain Perilous with the many tales I’ve collected throughout my travels.”

From the way Lynette rolled her eyes, Mordred doubted she was much in the way of a willing audience.

“I had just finished recounting the story of how we found ourselves in this precarious position,” Dinadan added and Mordred froze. Just how much had Dinadan shared with Lynette? Because there were aspects of that story he wasn’t comfortable with a stranger knowing. Not yet.

Lynette seemed to sense his discomfort. “I’m sorry about your aunt and cousin.”

Mordred nodded. Of course Dinadan had told her everything. It wasn’t like they had ordered him not to. “Thank you,” he said, putting his bowl of goop on the counter. He really couldn’t stomach the thought of eating anymore and now felt like he had a good excuse to avoid it.

“So,” Lynette said, spinning around and leaning against the counter. “You still think you could have gotten yourself off the planet if you’d bought your own ship instead of hiring a professional?”

Mordred smiled in spite of himself. “The hyperspace calculations would have tripped me up, I admit.”

“Big enough to admit when he’s wrong,” Lynette said. “I think I might have misjudged you, puppy.”

Mordred closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. They were going to part ways with Lynette before they reached the rebellion, right? He would never live it down if Gawain and Gareth got ahold of the puppy nickname.

“Do you want to learn?” Lynette asked.

“What?”

“Do you want to learn how to work a hyperdrive?”

“I…we can do that? Now? While we’re in hyperspace?”

“It’ll be more theory than practical application. But you’re smart, puppy. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble picking it up.”

“You just like saying it at this point, don’t you?”

“It does roll off the tongue.”

 Mordred glanced at Dinadan, who looked as happy and content as he had a moment ago. “Are you going to be alright on your own?”

“Indeed, sir,” Dinadan said. “The Savage Damsel has quite a litany of stories at her disposal and I am quite pleased to have a chance to record each and every one.”

Lynette froze and suddenly looked nervous. It was the first time her confidence had wavered in the hours Mordred had known her.

“Look,” Lynette said. “You should know that the Damsel has a wicked and inappropriate sense of humor and you should not believe a single word she says.”

“We’ll have to hear some of these stories later, Dinadan,” Mordred said.

Lynette grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him towards the cockpit. “Get moving, puppy, before I change my mind.”  

Chapter Text

Gaheris knew he was in for something bad when Ursus’ torture stopped for a day. Maybe two. Ursus didn’t strike him as a man who would just give up before he had his answers. And since the mind probe wasn’t working, no doubt something far more sinister was in the works for Gaheris.

He heard whispers among the guards that an execution order had been signed. That seemed laughably out of character for Ursus. The move was entirely bluster with absolutely no bite to it. Oh, no. Now I’m dead. I wish I’d had the foresight to talk before you killed me. What ever shall I do now?

No. Ursus was too smart for that. Ursus was too smart to even threaten that. Which meant that if the whispers were true, someone else aside from Ursus had taken an interest in Gaheris’ torture.

His suspicions were proven accurate when the Stormtroopers finally escorted him out of the detention block and into some sort of command center. It wasn’t just Lord Ursus awaiting him just within the room. Grand Moff Tiberius was there as well.

“Ah, Lucius Tiberius,” Gaheris said, nodding to the Grand Moff. “Now the execution order finally makes sense. Of all the Emperor’s dogs, you’re the only one who would dare something so stupid.”

Tiberius chuckled, completely unfazed by the insult. “Prince Gaheris Luddowc. It has been far too long.”

“What happened?” Gaheris said. “I mean, Rome was abuzz with gossip for months. A prominent military figure like yourself isn’t shuffled off to a backwater posting without cause. What did you do to be so disgraced?”     

“That’s right,” Tiberius said. “You don’t know where you are.” He motioned at the white wall behind him. No, not a wall Gaheris realized as he studied it. A window. The white was hyperspace. He wasn’t on a base at all. He was on a ship. But a ship larger enough to warrant its own trash compactor? How could that be?

“Allow me to enlighten you,” Tiberius said. “I was not, as you so ignorantly claim, banished to a backwater posting. I was given a most welcome promotion to the Empire’s newest and most powerful battle station. Don’t you recognize her from the plans you so ungraciously stole from us? She may have been built out of sight, but from here on out the Death Star shall loom large in the mind of the Republic.”

“Once again, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gaheris said, trying to wrap his head around what Tiberius had told him. He hadn’t looked at the plans before transferring them to the AC unit and now he wished he had. Just how large was this thing? And how powerful was the weapon attached to it?

“I was in the midst of a diplomatic mission when I was unlawfully detained,” Gaheris continued. “Now, it seems, I am to be unlawfully executed as well.”

“Not so unlawfully,” Tiberius said. “The Emperor has disbanded the Senate. His will is now law and it is his will that you die.”

“The Senate has been disbanded?” Gaheris asked, hoping he sounded appropriately confused. Gawain had warned him this was coming. “Why…? He can’t possibly control a whole galaxy all on his own.”

“He won’t have to,” Tiberius said as the Death Star dropped out of hyperspace. “Ah. Perfect timing.” He motioned out the window to the planet orbiting before them. “Well, your highness. What do you think?”

Suddenly nervous, Gaheris didn’t dare answer Tiberius. He would have recognized that planet anywhere. Lothian. Home. Why had Tiberius brought the Death Star here? Did he intend to work out some sort of trade with the royal family? Did he think Lot would talk when Gaheris hadn’t? What was their plan and what could he possibly do to disrupt it?

“Perhaps I have been overzealous in my assumptions,” Tiberius said. “Maybe you never did look at the plans. Maybe you simply bundled them up and sent them off to their next destination. If you are truly ignorant, then it is my pleasure to enlighten you. With one push of a button, this space station has the power to destroy a planet. Any planet. No matter the size. Lothian, for example. And it is my example. Because I swear to you right now, Prince Gaheris, that if you do not tell me the location of the rebel base, I will order Lothian destroyed.”

Gaheris looked from Lothian to Tiberius and back, unable to believe what he was hearing. The rebellion had known the Death Star was carrying a new weapon and they had known it was worth worrying about. It was why they had stolen the plans in the first place. But something powerful enough to destroy a whole planet? Was that even possible? It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

“You’re bluffing,” Gaheris said.

“I assure you I am not,” Tiberius said, motioning to Ursus. He grabbed Gaheris roughly by the arm and pushed him over to one of the computer consoles. Tiberius stepped up beside Gaheris and idly began flipping through the screens.

“These are the plans you stole,” Tiberius said. “Specifically the ones pertinent to the design and function of the weapon. Please, stop me if you have any questions. I want you to fully understand what is about to happen so you can make a well informed decision.”

Gaheris didn’t need to ask any questions. The schematics Tiberius was showing him were painstakingly clear. If this was a bluff, it was only because the weapon hadn’t been completed yet. The technology existed and the Empire had a comprehensive understanding of it. If Gaheris called Tiberius’ bluff, it wouldn’t be a question of if Lothian would be destroyed, but when.

“You can’t do this,” Gaheris said. “Lothian is a peaceful planet. We were demilitarized decades ago. We have done everything the Emperor has asked—”

“And yet here you are,” Tiberius said. “The Prince of Lothian. A rebel spy.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gaheris said.

“No, your highness,” Tiberius said. “I’m done playing this game. We know you’re part of the rebellion. We know you had the plans and we know you sent them to Cornwall. This is not a trial to determine your guilt or innocence. This is a continuation of your interrogation and if you don’t tell me where the rebel base is, your people will suffer. Who will it be, Prince Gaheris? Innocent civilians, most of whom don’t give a damn about this war? Or militant terrorists?”

Gaheris felt dizzy. If only Tiberius had asked for something else. Gaheris could have given him anything else but this. “I don’t know.”

“I see,” Tiberius said, turning away from Gaheris. “You may fire when ready.”

“No!” Gaheris yelled, lunging for Tiberius. Ursus held him back. “No! Tiberius, please! I don’t know! I swear I don’t know! I was supposed to take the plans to Cornwall and then return to Lothian because they knew I’d be captured. They never told me the location of the newest base, I swear. I was intentionally left in the dark so I couldn’t hurt them. Please! You have to believe me! Please believe me!”

Tiberius spun back around and came forward so he was only inches away from Gaheris. He rested a hand on the prince’s cheek and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I believe you.”

Gaheris sagged forward in Ursus’ arms as Tiberius moved away from him. He’d done it. He’d saved Lothian. Perhaps he’d doomed the rebellion. He’d likely be forced to give up everything else he knew in the coming weeks. The spies in Rome. Morgan’s return to the fight. Mordred’s existence. Hopefully the rebellion would be able to use the plans and make their move against the Death Star in the coming weeks. It didn’t matter. The rebellion was on its own as far as Gaheris was concerned. What mattered was Lothian. For now, Lothian was safe.

“Fire,” Tiberius ordered.

Gaheris’ head snapped up. “What? You said you believed me?”

“I do believe you,” Tiberius said. “Unfortunately, I still need to demonstrate the power of the Death Star to the rest of the galaxy. And, well, we’re here and Lothian isn’t exactly innocent.”

“No!” Gaheris yelled, struggling against Ursus’ hold. “You can’t do this! Don’t do this!”

Too late. Gaheris could only watch in despair as the red blast of power shot out from the Death Star and struck Lothian. The destruction was instantaneous. The planet blew apart as though it was nothing more than a toy. One second it was there, the next it was gone.

Gaheris’ legs buckled and Ursus let him fall. It had gone very quiet. Not in the room. He was dimly aware of Tiberis, Ursus, and the gunners talking around him. No, the silence was in his head. It was like there had been a white noise in the back of his mind. It had always been present, so he had never taken much notice in it. But now it was gone and he felt as though he had lost a crucial part of himself.

Lothian, gone. His father, dead. The court, the elected representatives, his friends…all gone. Just…gone.

Ursus grabbed his arm and hauled him back to his feet. Gaheris doubled over and retched. He hadn’t been able to keep anything down since the mind probe. He spit up a little bile, but mostly he just gagged as his stomach tried to eject something that wasn’t there.

“Well, Lord Ursus,” Tiberius said. “I do believe you’ll find him more malleable going forward. Perhaps this wasn’t a complete loss.”

“Perhaps not,” Ursus said before he hauled Gaheris out of the room and back to his cell.

Chapter Text

Mordred drew in deep breaths through his nose. He focused on the darkness the blindfold provided. Anything to clear his mind. Aunt Morgan kept promising that if he could just still his mind, he would begin to feel the force moving through him and it would start guiding his movements. Only when his body was in tune with the force’s power would he be able to defend himself against the training module Aunt Morgan had set hovering around him.

Darkness. There was nothing beyond the darkness. His body was open to the power coursing through it. He was one with the darkness. With the stillness. He was a vessel to the power of the force. Nothing more.

Vessel. Mordred suddenly couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be much better at this if he was piloting an actual vessel. Take one of the bikes out onto the water and he didn’t need to think. He could simply react as the aspidochelones sprung up out of the water.

The blast from the module caught his hand. Mordred cried out as he pulled the hand from the Caliburn sword and shook it out. While the training module wasn’t designed to cause any lasting damage—the blast didn’t even bruise—it did hurt. It hurt a lot, as Mordred had discovered over the last two days.

“Focus,” Aunt Morgan chided.

She never said anything else when he faced off against the training module. Every time he took a hit, he also received her sharp reminder to focus. Somehow the module seemed to know exactly when his attention was wandering. It only attacked then. The whole endeavor was starting to feel less like training and more like punishment for not keeping his mind clear. It didn’t help that he was utterly unable to keep his mind clear for any length of time. Something always distracted him.

Shifting both hands along the hilt of the Caliburn sword, Mordred tried to do as Aunt Morgan asked. He focused on the darkness and with every breath tried to clear his mind. His body was a vessel to the power for the force.

A siren sounded. It was louder than anything he had heard in his entire life and the reverberation was so forceful he felt like his skull was collapsing inward. He dropped his Caliburn sword and clamped his hands over his ears. By every measure it was a distraction and the training module responded by shooting him in the side. He cried out and the sound ceased.

He expected a harsh word from Aunt Morgan. If he was lucky there might be some real concern in her voice. Either way, she’d want to know what happened. When she said nothing, Mordred straightened up and removed his blindfold.

Aunt Morgan’s face was ashen and her lips had lost all color. She looked completely disoriented and swayed in place. Mordred crossed the distance between then and grabbed her before she could fall.

“Aunt Morgan?” he asked, wrapping one arm around her shoulder and grabbing her hand with the other. She was ice cold. Suddenly worried, Mordred shuffle her over to the table and sat her down in one of the chairs. Kneeling in front of her, Mordred pressed his free hand against her forehead. It was as cold as her hands. Something was wrong. He couldn’t think of a single illness or ailment that would explain her sudden drop in temperature and that frightened him.

“I’m going to get Lynette,” Mordred said, trying to stand up. Aunt Morgan tightened her grasp on his hands and pulled him back.

“It’s gone,” she whispered between chattering teeth as her whole body began to shake.

“What’s gone?” Mordred asked. “What happened?”

“A bright spot in the galaxy,” Aunt Morgan said. “Small, but not insignificant. Connections shattered. Threads cut and frayed. A balance disrupted. Surely you felt it?” Mordred shook his head. “But…but I saw you react. What did you feel, nephew?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” Mordred said. “I heard…” He paused and reconsidered the noise. It hadn’t been a siren. It had been too deep. To…lifelike. “I heard someone scream.”

“One someone?” Aunt Morgan asked. “Or many?”

“Just one.”

Aunt Morgan drew her hands out of his and pressed them against her mouth. Her eyes were still wide with terror as she continued to shiver. “I feel something terrible has happened.”

A bright spot in the galaxy? What did she mean by that? Why had she had such a visceral reaction to whatever had happened while he had just heard a noise? Unless…Someone had been shouting. What if they had been shouting at him specifically, albeit unintentionally? What if that had been Gawain he’d heard and it was the rebellion that Aunt Morgan had felt the loss of? What if they were too late?

Footsteps behind him caused Mordred to turn as Lynette entered the mess. She paused as her eyes swept over them.

“Well you two look awful,” Lynette said. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Aunt Morgan said quickly before Mordred could answer. “Just an old woman’s aches and pains. I fear I may have overexerted myself.”

“I’ll say,” Lynette said as she went to the counter to make herself some food. “Ever since you two boarded, you’ve worked and trained nonstop. You’re on a first rate passenger vessel. Try acting like passengers for a change. Sit back, relax, and forget that the whole military might of the Empire is hunting you right now.”

Mordred smiled as Aunt Morgan sighed in irritation. He knew his aunt found Lynette to be trying and part of him felt bad that he couldn’t stand resolutely beside her in her frustration. He couldn’t help it—he liked Lynette. She was fun to be around and she had taught him a lot about piloting a ship in the days they had spent on the Damsel.

“Oh, come on old lady, don’t be so uptight,” Lynette said. “The puppy thinks I’m funny. I can tell.”

“I’m fine now,” Aunt Morgan said, ignoring Lynette. “You’d best get back to your training.”

“What? Now?” Mordred asked. “After what just happened, you can’t expect me to just clear my mind and focus on nothing.”

“Of course I do,” Morgan said. “This is something you must learn. There will be moments of high stress where you will be required to call upon the force and the act must become as simple as breathing. Passion does you no good, nephew. Only peace of mind.”

“Are you sure you’re well enough to continue?” Mordred asked, pressing his hand against her forehead. He was relieved to find that she was warm again before she pushed him away.

“Quite,” Aunt Morgan said.

Hearing the dismissal, Mordred stepped away from her and went to retrieve his blindfold and Caliburn sword. Once the blindfold was positioned over his eyes, he swung the sword around so the blade appeared. Taking up the correct stance, Mordred focused on the darkness and tried to even out his breathing. He was a vessel to the power of the force…

Of course he was. He had heard someone shouting in his head. It was one of those connections Aunt Morgan had talked about. Someone he knew had reached out in a moment of terror and Mordred had heard them. It was a line he could, in theory, trace back to the source. He could find out who he had heard. He could find out if they were alright.

He needed to be able to sense those lines if he was going to follow them back to the source. Which meant turning his body into a vessel for the force to work through. He needed to clear his mind, but that didn’t mean he had to think of nothing.

Mordred remembered a trick Aunt Morgause had taught him when he was little. He’d had a nightmare and had been too frightened to even attempt to sleep again. Aunt Morgause had told him to think about everyone important to him and imagine a string connecting them to him. She’d told him to imagine the string growing stronger and brighter as he thought about how much those people loved him and how they would do everything to protect him.

“Focus on the strings, Mordred. Because they’re real. We’re all connected and the love we have for each other binds us together. Whenever you’re afraid, just think about those strings and what they represent. You are loved, and you are not alone.”

Now that he thought about it, what Aunt Morgause had taught him then sounded a lot like what Aunt Morgan was trying to teach him now. Maybe it was a part of her training as a Knight of Avalon that Aunt Morgan had passed on to her older sister? Whatever it was, it seemed well worth trying now.

First and foremost, he focused on the connection between himself and Aunt Morgan. She was all he had in the galaxy now. He was grateful for everything she had done for him since Aunt Morgause and Agravain had been killed. Because of her, he wasn’t alone.

Next, and last really (who else did he have?), he thought about Gawain and Gareth. He hadn’t seen either cousin in years. He had no idea what they were doing now or if they were still alive. He hoped so. There wasn’t a moment in his life where he hadn’t looked up to Gawain. And Gareth was pure mischief and fun. Tintagel had been so much quieter after he and Gaheris had left.

Gaheris…was he still alive? Was it even worth trying? Gaheris was the reason he was in this mess. Of course, because of Mordred, Gaheris’ fate remained unknown. Really, he was closer now to Gaheris than he had ever been with his other cousins—even Agravain. His fate and Gaheris’ were now tied together. In Mordred’s mind, the string between the pulsed brightly with a warm, inviting light.           

Something glowed in front of him. Mordred blinked, wondering if he was seeing something through the blindfold. The light remained constant whether his eyes were open or closed. The muscles in his arms tingled as he watched a faint line of light stretch out from the glow and zig-zag in front of him. At two points along the line, light burst outward like a tiny firework, drifting towards him. A moment later, the glowing light began to move along the zig-zagging line, heading towards the first burst.

The training module fired on him and Mordred moved to deflect it with the Caliburn blade. The glow continued along the zig-zag and Mordred spun the blade around to deflect against a second blast as the glow hit the second burst of light.

Mordred laughed as the lights faded from his mind’s eye. He had done it. He had cleared his mind, reached out for the force, and experienced its great power. He had done it.

“What was that?” Aunt Morgan yelled. Startled, Mordred removed his blindfold to find her standing right in front of him.

“What do you mean?” Mordred asked. “I did it. I cleared my head and felt the force moving through me…” He trailed off as he realized nothing he was saying had sated Aunt Morgan’s anger.

“Yeah, old lady,” Lynette said. “That was damn impressive. Give the kid a break.”

“Stay out of this,” Aunt Morgan said, sparing Lynette a scathing glare before turning her attention back to Mordred. “I felt that, nephew. You didn’t clear your mind. You let your passion guide you.”

“No,” Mordred said.

“That way leads to darkness.”

“I wasn’t, Aunt Morgan. I was focusing on clearing my mind using a trick Aunt Morgause taught me.” That wasn’t the right thing to say and if anything Aunt Morgan’s anger only grew. “It was a way to clear my head when I was scared by focusing on the people important to me.”

“People are unimportant, nephew,” Aunt Morgan said. “The force doesn’t distinguish between people. We are all important. To put one being above another based on your feelings is dangerous. It leads to jealousy, anger, and hate. It is the path to darkness. The Knights of Avalon are above that. We value all and stand in the light. Why do you think the knights don’t have families?”

“You do have a family,” Mordred said. “I’m your family.”

“This is unorthodox,” Aunt Morgan said. “If the order still existed, you would have been taken to the temple at Avalon to train as a page at ten and then at fourteen you would begin serving a knight as their squire. In the old days, you would have never known I was your aunt. I simply would have been another member of the order. As valuable and important to you as anyone else.”

“Yeah, and how’d that work out for the Knights of Avalon?” Lynette asked.

Aunt Morgan turned to face her. “I beg your pardon.”

“I was ten when the Emperor brought his might down upon the Knights and destroyed the Order,” Lynette said. “I remember growing up on a planet where the people were terrified of their children showing any unusual abilities for fear the Knights of Avalon would take them. I’m not saying the galaxy has been sunshine and rainbows since the order fell. But I know the people on my world breathed a sigh of relief.”

“You’re speaking of things you don’t understand,” Aunt Morgan said. “The Knights of Avalon were the peacekeepers of the galaxy. Under our watchful eye the Republic saw an unprecedented prosperity. Your people owe us their gratitude. Becoming a Knight of Avalon is certainly better life than being taken by Saxon raiders and sold into slavery. At least with us, they knew what they became of their children.”

“No, they didn’t,” Lynette said. “Saxon raiders or the Knights of Avalon. Either way they never saw their children again.”

“What we did, we did for the betterment of the galaxy.”

“Again, I ask, how’d that work out for you?” Lynette asked. “Snatching children certainly didn’t save you from the Emperor.”

“Captain…” Mordred said softly, uncertain of where he should go from there. He was worried that Lynette and Aunt Morgan would come to blows if someone didn’t intervene.

“No, nephew,” Aunt Morgan said. “She’s right. Our own actions led to the fall of the Knights of Avalon. We cut corners. We broke the rules that were meant to protect us from the dark side of the force. We took in a child who would have been better left untouched. But because his power was so great, we didn’t know what else to do. His training was unorthodox and we turned a blind eye to many of the warning signs because of his power. I…I turned a blind eye. It was my student Ursus who sided with the Emperor and betrayed the Knights of Avalon. It was Ursus who drove your father into the heart of the Empire. It’s Ursus who continues to oversee his captivity.”

She reached out and rested a hand against Mordred’s face. “I let Ursus cut corners in his training. I allowed him to let his passions guide him when I should have counseled a calm mind and clear head. And that’s why we need to be careful, nephew. So much of your training is so unorthodox. You’re far older than any page or squire. You grew up among a family you care deeply for and I, your aunt, am your teacher. You don’t understand how precarious your position is. How easily it could all fall apart.”

“I’ll be careful,” Mordred said. “I’m sorry, Aunt Morgan. I didn’t know.”

Aunt Morgan sighed and drew away from him. “This has been a trying day and I’m still shaken from…from earlier. I think its best I go lie down.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Lynette muttered under her breath.

Aunt Morgan gave Lynette a scathing look before collecting the training module and leaving the mess. Mordred swung his Caliburn sword around so the blade disappeared. He hooked it to his belt and went to join Lynette at the counter.

“Well she’s a piece of work,” Lynette said. Mordred sighed and turned to face the captain, but she held up a hand and wagged her finger in his face before he could say anything. “No, puppy. You listen to me. A player knows when they’re dealing with another and she is playing you. You’ve got this whole thing going on where she’s one of the few family members you have left and you think that matters but it doesn’t. Not to her. You heard her whole spiel. People are unimportant. Individuals don’t matter. All that matters are the connections and what power she can get out of it.”

“You heard what she said about Ursus—”

“I heard someone desperately spinning tales to keep from losing a mark. She’ll only tell you the truth when it suits her. You’ve gotta remember that.”

Mordred looked down at his hands. Lynette had just neatly fueled his own fears regarding Aunt Morgan. If she had meant what she’d said—if the individual really didn’t matter—then what was to stop her from using her powers on him if it served the whole?

“Look, why don’t you stay on with us?” Lynette asked. “We’ll drop the old lady and the droids on Lothian and leave them to find their own way. Stay with me and Ax. You’re a fast learner, a good shot, and you’ve got the makings of a decent pilot. We could use someone like you.”

“Thank you,” Mordred said. “I appreciate the offer but…I still have two cousins in the rebellion and I’m not ready to give up on them. It’ll be better once we get where we’re going.”

“If you say so,” Lynette said flippantly. A soft alarm chimed from somewhere above them. Lynette looked up and then back at Mordred. “We just dropped out of hyperspace. I’d better go help Ax with the landing. You wanna come? There’s nothing quite like seeing a planet on approach. Especially when you don’t have Star Destroyers on your tail.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” Mordred said, motioning to his room. He wanted to change his clothes and freshen up before they landed.

“See you soon,” Lynette said, spinning away from him and heading towards the cockpit.

Chapter Text

Reaching the cockpit, Lynette paused as she stared at the vast darkness of space just outside the window. Slowly she dropped into the pilot’s seat and started tapping at the console, taking a sensor reading. Maybe they had simply overshot when they dropped out of hyperspace? After all, they’d been forced to override the nav computer before making the jump and there were much worse possibilities out there than traveling a little too far. But if that was the case, why hadn’t Ax turned them around? Why was he so engrossed in a readout from the navigation computer?

The sensor readings came back without picking up any planets in their immediate vicinity. There was a small moon with a high output of electromagnetic radiation, but no planet.

“Ax?” Lynette asked.

“Yeah?” he grunted, all of his attention still on the nav computer.

“Where are we?” Lynette asked.

Ax shook his head as he finally looked up from the computer. “Right where we’re supposed to be.”

“No,” Lynette said. “No, because where we’re supposed to be is at a planet. There’s no planet here, Ax!”

“I don’t know what to tell you!” he snapped back. “Our course checks out as do the surrounding systems. By every reading I’ve taken, we are in the Lothian system. The planet’s just gone.”

“Planets don’t just disappear,” Lynette said. Ax gave her a look that said he was well aware of this fact but otherwise didn’t have a solution for her.

“Hey,” Mordred said as he entered the cockpit. He leaned against the back of Lynette’s chair and she looked back to see him staring through the windows of the cockpit. “What’s going on? I thought you said we were on approach? Where’s Lothian?”

“That’s the question,” Lynette muttered, flipping a switch to engage the speaker system throughout the ship. “Hey, old lady. Hate to interrupt your nap, but you’re going to want to get up here.”

“It’s gone,” Ax told Mordred as the kid settled into the chair behind Lynette.

“What’s gone?”

“Lothian,” Ax said. “We’re where it’s supposed to be but it’s not. It’s gone.”

“How—”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Lynette snapped as Morgan entered the cockpit. “Oh, good. You’re here. Slight complication. We can’t find Lothian.”

Morgan’s face went white as she slowly sat down in the seat behind Ax. “I understand now,” she whispered. “What I felt earlier.”

“What?” Lynette asked, swinging her chair around so she could face the old woman.

“The Empire, they…” Morgan trailed off as she leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. Lynette shook her head, having gotten the gist of what Morgan was suggesting.

“That’s impossible,” Lynette said. “Even if the Empire brought in every ship they command, they still wouldn’t have enough fire power to completely destroy a planet.”

“Gaheris said something about a new weapon,” Mordred said softly. “Do you think this is it?”

“I fear it must be,” Morgan said and silence settled over the cockpit.

“What now?” Lynette finally asked.

“I’m afraid that depends on your generosity, captain,” Morgan said. “With Lothian gone, we have no means to pay you.”

“Is there a system near here where I could drop you?” Lynette asked. “Somewhere with friends so you don’t have to rely on another smuggler to get you where you need to go? Who have money?”

“Strathclyde,” Morgan said after a moment. “We have friends on Strathclyde.”

“Alright,” Lynette said, turning her chair around to face her console. “Ax, you want to put in coordinates for Strathclyde? Run the calculations.”

“Aye, lass,” Ax said softly.

An alarm on the main console sounded. Lynette looked down, not at all surprised to find a new sensor read out awaiting her.

“Belay that order, Ax,” Lynette said, bringing the main laser cannons online. She would have preferred the quad cannons, but that would have required either her or Ax going down to the gunnery and Lynette wasn’t willing to pull either of them from the cockpit. Next to her, Ax booted up the signal jammer. Nothing was getting out of the Lothian system without the Damsel’s say so.

“What is it?” Mordred asked.

“Small fighter,” Lynette said as the ship flew over and past them. “Ax.”

“Sublight engines online,” Ax said as he shifted the piloting controls. The Damsel moved forward, chasing after the fighter. “You flying?”

“No, I’ll shoot it down.”  

“Did it follow us?” Morgan asked.

Lynette shook her head. “Too small to have its own hyperdrive and I would have known if anything had piggybacked on our lightspeed jump.”

“Likely got lost from its convoy,” Ax said.

“Or stuck around to see what came looking for Lothian,” Mordred said. “If they identify us—”

“They won’t,” Lynette said. “We’ve jammed all transmissions and now we’re going to destroy it.”

“Don’t bother,” Morgan said. “It’s too far out on its own, it’s not going to be getting a transmission through to the Empire anytime soon. Signal jammer or not. Our best course of action is to move on to Strathclyde.”

“No,” Lynette said. “The moon it’s heading for has a high output of electromagnetic radiation. If it gets in range, it can use that to boost its signal enough to get a transmission out. Even with our jamming technology. We have to stop it.”

“High output?” Ax asked after a moment. “There’s no moon with those characteristics on the navigation chart.”

“What do you mean?” Lynette asked. “The sensor readings are clear—look. You can see it up ahead.”

“Lothian had two moons,” Mordred said. “Why would only one survive the destruction of the planet?”

“It didn’t,” Ax said. “That’s still in orbiting range and anything that was should have been blown out into space when Lothian was destroyed. That’s not a moon.”

“What else could it possibly be?” Lynette snapped.

“A space station,” Morgan said.

“No,” Lynette said with a shake of her head. “No…that’s too big to be a space station. It’s—”

“Large enough to house a weapon that could destroy a planet?” Morgan asked.

Lynette gasped, her eyes widening. She could see it now. The distinctly metal frame of the orb in front of them. In her mind, Lynette imagined the destructive power of a weapon that was comparable in size to the massive behemoth before her. For the first time in her life, she was actually terrified of the Empire. Not the type of fear a crook has for the government when they’re going out of their way to break the law. No, this was a much more primal fear. The Empire now had the power to destroy her as an afterthought. If what had happened to Lothian was any indication, it was an action they wouldn’t hesitate to make.

“Ax, get us out of here,” Lynette said.

The dwarf nodded, fumbling with the piloting controls. The Damsel started to turn, then jerked back so she was once again in line with the space station.

“What was that?” Morgan asked.

“Tractor beam,” Lynette said, putting her hands on the piloting controls. “Ax, give her to me.”

Ax flipped the switch that returned control of the ship to Lynette’s console. She could immediately feel the pull of the tractor beam. The Damsel wanted to go straight and Lynette’s attempts to change direction were met with a fierce resistance.”

“Reversing thrusters,” Lynette said, pressing a button.

“Initiating dispersal pulse…now!” Ax said, pressing a button on his control panel.

The Damsel shot backwards for a second before jerking to a stop. Then she began to shake as she was one again dragged towards the space station by the tractor beam.

“What happened?” Lynette demanded. She’d beaten more than enough Star Destroyers with that trick in the past. It should have gotten them clear.

“Beam’s too big and too wide and we’re in too deep,” Ax said. “I’m sorry, lass. We’re not going to be able to pull free of it.”

Lynette cursed and slammed her hands down the console, disengaging the thrusters and powering down the engines. The shaking stopped and the Damsel continued on a slow and steady glide towards the space station.

“You’re giving up?” Mordred asked as Lynette got to her feet.

“Hell no,” Lynette said. “I’m going down to the quad cannon’s gunnery and I’m going to shoot until I hit something. If we’re lucky it will be the tractor beam.”

Morgan grabbed her hand before she could leave the cockpit. “You won’t help anyone that way. At best you’ll get the ship destroyed. At worst you’ll just make them angry.”

“Well what do you suggest?” Lynette asked.

“This is a smuggler’s ship, is it not?” Morgan asked. “Why don’t we start there?”

The door to the war room whooshed open and Ursus stepped inside. Tiberius was sitting at the head of the table, looking positively giddy. Ursus forced down a wave of annoyance at being interrupted by the Grand Moff’s latest fancy. The guards in the detention wing had just injected Prince Gaheris with a cocktail that would hopefully make him more malleable to the mind probe. He should have been up in the detention wing now, not listening to Tiberius blather on about nothing.

“You’ll never guess what’s happened,” Tiberius said, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands.

Ursus reached out with the force and did a sweep of the Death Star and the surrounding system. What he saw he wasn’t quite able to bring himself to believe. “You caught the ship.”

“Yes!” Tiberius said, clapping his hands together. “Matches the exact description of the one that left Cornwall three days ago. We’ve caught it in a tractor beam and it should be brought aboard our fair Death Star within the next few minutes.”

“Why would they come here?”

Tiberius shrugged. “I’m allowing myself to hope that we were right on the nose when we decided to destroy Lothian. Prince Gaheris was supposed to return there, after all. Maybe he was rejoining the rebellion and didn’t even know it.”

“Doubtful,” Ursus said.

“No, you’re right,” Tiberius said. “More than likely the rebellion thought the plans would be safer hiding in plain sight on a non-militarized planet like Lothian. That or it was a transfer point on the way to the rebellion. If Prince Gaheris had made it back to Lothian, no doubt the royal family wouldn’t have wanted for him to stay there long. Eventually we would have tracked the plans back to him.”

Tiberius glanced at Ursus and laughed. “Don’t look so glum, my friend. We retrieved the plans with no real effort on our part. This is a moment worth celebrating.”

“I’ll wait until we have the plans in hand, if it’s all the same,” Ursus said.

“Oh, I suppose,” Tiberius said, getting to his feet. “Come along, then. We might as well greet our guests. Find out just who has been eluding us these past few days.”

Once in the hanger, they were forced to wait with a battalion of Stormtroopers as the ship was pulled into the Death Star and carefully landed. Once it was safely on the ground, a company of troopers rushed it. They pulled open the gangplank and disappeared inside. Minutes later, the leader stepped off the ship and approached Tiberius and Ursus.

“It’s empty, sir,” the trooper said and Tiberius groaned. “Ship’s log indicate it was abandoned immediately after takeoff.”

“Escape pods?” Ursus asked.

“All jettisoned,” the trooper said.

“Droids?” Tiberius asked. He sounded desperate.

The trooper shook his head. “We suspect this is a decoy, sir.”

“When I find the person behind these games and misdirects,” Tiberius growled.

“That may be sooner than you think,” Ursus said. He felt…something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Memories stirred in the dark crevices of his mind but couldn’t quite pull themselves together into a coherent thought. Whatever this was, he was intimately familiar with it. It had just been so long since it had crossed his path that it had faded from memory.

“Bring a scanning crew aboard,” Ursus said. “Leave no panel unopened. Break it down if you have to.”

“You think they’re still onboard?” Tiberius asked.

“I think it’s worth investigating,” Ursus said. “Giving up and casting the ship back out into space gets us nowhere. At the very least, there may be a clue to their next move or the rebel hideout…” He trailed off, his focus drawn back to the Stormtroopers before him. “Now!”

“You heard him,” Tiberius said cheerfully.

“Yes, sir,” the Stormtroopers said, saluting Ursus and Tiberius before jogging off to do the job that was asked of him.

“Come now, Ursus,” Tiberius said, grabbing his arm and guiding him away from the ship. Away from the feeling of familiarity. “Let’s leave them to do their jobs. Our talents are best served elsewhere.”

“Prince Gaheris,” Ursus rumbled. He had an interrogation to get back to.

“Eventually,” Tiberius said. “But first, the Emperor wants a live report on the weapon’s test and I need you with me for that.”

“Is now really the best time?” Ursus asked, thinking about the cocktail that had been administered to Prince Gaheris. He was losing his window for an effective session with the mind probe.

“Yes, now,” Tiberius said. “We can slip in the news about the decoy ship in around our report and hopefully he’ll be so pleased with the progress of the weapon he won’t care that the plans have slipped completely out of our hands. And if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to tell him we have a new lead. Either way, Ursus, it’s a win for us.”

“I see,” Ursus said, pausing outside the lift to glance back at the ship. That feeling of familiarity continued to tickle at his mind. He wanted to stay in the hanger so he would know what the scanner found the moment they found it. He wanted this feeling explained away as soon as possible.

Tiberius cleared his throat and Ursus obediently stepped into the lift with him.

Chapter Text

Hanging on the ladder that led down into one of the Damel’s smuggling compartments beneath the floor, Lynette Perilous watched Ax intently. The dwarf had an ear pressed up against the ship. His acute hearing would allow him to listen in on whatever conversations were going on just outside the ship. Hopefully that would give them a leg up on the Stormtroopers and they could get a jump on the Empire instead of the other way around.

“They’re bringing in a sensor crew,” Ax whispered.

Lynette cursed and turned her attention to the control panel built into the wall beside her. She tapped at the panel’s screen, cycling through the options it presented to her.

“Can we confuse it?” Morgan asked. It was crowded down in the compartment, what with two humans, a dwarf, and two droids squeezed onto the floor. That was why Lynette had elected to stay on the ladder. That and the easy access to the control panel.

“Done,” Lynette said, saving the settings for the compartment and moving on to the cockpit’s controls. She’d hidden away in these compartments enough times to know the value of controlling the ship from here. “It’ll scramble the signal. The scanner will read a normal ship with nothing out of the ordinary.”

“That won’t hold them off for long,” Ax said.

“Figured,” Lynette said. “Their next move will be to tear apart the ship, at which point our luck will have run out. That trick with the logs bought us some time, old lady—”

“Yeah, lucky us the escape pods were long gone,” Mordred muttered.

“But we’re rapidly running out of it,” Lynette finished, electing to ignore that smartness remark. “Anyone have any ideas?”

“Commandeer some Imperial uniforms, sneak off this ship and onto another,” Ax said. “Hope the tractor beam is less effective on one of their own.”

“Ax,” Lynette hissed.

“I don’t like it either, lass,” Ax said. “But right now the Damsel is grounded. It’s doubtful you’d even be able to get her into the air, to say nothing of the tractor beam. Or has her sensors provided us with our saving grace?”

“No,” Lynette said, her shoulders slumping. “There’s an immediate tractor beam within range of the quad cannons. But on a station this big, there are hundreds more ready to jump in and take its place. We’d be pulled back as soon as we got out.”

“We could have the nav computer ready,” Ax said. “Make the jump to lightspeed as soon as we clear the bay doors.”

Lynette tipped her head to the side. She liked the sound of this plan.

“Are you two insane?” Morgan asked. “You make one error in your calculations and jump while we’re still in atmosphere or trapped in the tractor beam, you risk a catastrophic explosion that ends with us getting pulled into a black hole.”

“Better there than here,” Lynette said.

“We are carrying information vital to the survival of the rebellion,” Morgan said. “In fact, I suspect we are carrying the plans to this very space station. Our instinct must be to survive this. The fate of the galaxy depends on it.”

“You know what, old lady, maybe I should just turn you over to them and hope I get leniency for my cooperation,” Lynette said. A player always knew when they were being played and Lynette did not appreciate the old bat taking a run at her. And now of all times!

“But you won’t,” Morgan said. “That’s why I picked you.”

“Yeah, you’re just lucky the puppy’s so loyal,” Lynette said. “If I wasn’t certain he’d willingly stand by you, I’d turn you over in a heartbeat.”

She turned away from the compartment and faced the wall. Gently, she pushed against the compartment door above her. She peered through the tiny slit in the floor and was relieved when she didn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity. Sighing, she let the door drop and swung around on the ladder to face her companions.

“Okay, we go with Ax’s plan,” Lynette said. “We steal uniforms and go for another ship.”

“Not good enough,” Morgan said. “We have no assurances that an Imperial ship wouldn’t be equally susceptible to the tractor beam. We must disable it before we make any attempt to leave the station.”

“And now exactly do you plan on doing that?” Lynette hissed.

Next to Morgan, the AC unit began buzzing frantically.

“Yes,” Morgan said when it had finished. “We need only find a computer terminal. Accolon can hack it. From there we can determine the best means of disabling the tractor beam.”

“So…what?” Lynette asked. “Steal some uniforms and find a computer terminal?”

“It’s not the worst plan in the world,” Mordred said softly.  

“Certainly better than activating the hyperdrive inside an atmosphere,” Morgan said under her breath.

“Don’t sass me, old lady—I don’t like the puppy that much,” Lynette said. “Ax, any sign of those sensors?”

Ax pressed his ear up against the ship and shook his head. “Nothing yet.”

“Alright, Ax, come with me. The rest of you stay down here.”

She pushed against the compartment door again, this time sliding it aside as she lifted. Carefully Lynette climbed up out of the compartment. Kneeling on the floor, she glanced around to ensure she wasn’t about to be ambushed. Then she shifted aside so Ax could climb out unhindered. 

“This this doesn’t work, you should have just enough time to come up with a new plan,” Lynette said before she and Ax pulled the floor panel back into place.

“No guns,” Lynette whispered as she and Ax turned the first corner and took up positions along the wall. Ax grunted as he lowered himself toward the ground, like a runner preparing for a sprint.

“They’re here,” Ax whispered after a few minutes of waiting. Lynette heard it a moment later—footsteps through the hallway of her ship. She tensed, ready for a fight.

Two technicians rounded the corner carrying a large scanner between them. They were so engrossed in the readings from the floor that they didn’t even give Lynette a second glance as they walked right past her. The first one wasn’t so lucky when it was his turn to go by Ax. The dwarf launched himself forward and buried his fist in the technician’s side. The technician doubled over with a soft ‘oof’. Ax kicked the man in the shin and he dropped the scanner as he tumbled to the ground.

Before the second technician could raise the alarm, Lynette had come at him from behind. She jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. He dropped the other half of the scanner and pawed ineffectively at her arms. He stumbled around the hallway of the ship for a moment before rushing backwards and slamming Lynette into the wall.

Now that the first technician was on a level he could reach, Ax hit the man across the jaw that he crumpled without a sound. He crossed the space between himself and Lynette in an instant and delivered another good kick to the second technician’s shin. Like his co-worker before him, the man dropped to the ground and Ax was able to knock him out.

“That’s a lot easier when we have weapons,” Lynette said.

“Too bad they’re so noisy,” Ax said. He twirled his finger. “You want to…?”

“Yeah,” Lynette said before she turned to race around the whole perimeter of the ship. She didn’t slow until the gangplank was in sight. Ax was already there, sidled up against the entrance. He held up two fingers and Lynette felt her shoulders slump in relief. If there had been more than two guards outside the Damsel, they would have been in real trouble. Ax nodded as Lynette took her place on the other side of the door. She nodded back and Ax cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Hey down there,” he yelled, pitching his voice higher. He almost sounded human around the muffle his hands created. “We’ve got something. Can you give us a hand?”

Lynette tensed again at the sound of two pairs of boots making their way up the gangplank. A white figure crossed the threshold into the ship and Lynette grabbed him by the shoulders before he could get any farther. She pulled with all of her might and threw the Stormtroopers into the opposite wall. He bounced off it and Lynette grabbed him again before he could recover. This time she threw him forward and watched with satisfaction as he went sprawling to the ground. The Stormtroopers rolled over as Lynette rushed him and fumbled to for his blaster. Lynette tackled him before he could reach it.

He lay stunned beneath her for a moment and then started grasping for his sidearm again. Lynette shifted on top of him—pushing herself upright and bringing her knee down upon the hand trying to reach the blaster. The Stormtroopers grunted and reached for her face with his free hand. Lynette knocked the limb away before dropping forward sliding her arm into the space between the Stormtrooper’s armor and his helmet. Her arm found his throat and the Stormtrooper made a soft gurgling sound as he was suddenly unable to breathe.

Behind her, she could hear Ax still tumbling with his Stormtrooper. The armor must have been giving him trouble. Normally Ax could put down a human male three times his size without breaking a sweat.

There was a strangled grunt behind her that couldn’t possibly have been made by human lungs. She looked backwards to see Ax thrown to the ground. The Stormtrooper pulled his blaster from his waist and spun around to face Lynette. He raised his weapon and Lynette’s eyes widened as she realized she had nowhere to go.

Suddenly the Stormtrooper was flung to the side and slammed into the wall. He dropped to the ground as the one beneath her went slack. Lynette pulled off his helmet and slugged him across the jaw for good measure.   

Lynette turned again in time to see Morgan climbing up out of the hidden compartment. For the first time since they had met, the old woman actually looked formidable. One hand was outstretched toward the Stormtrooper closest to her while the other rested on the sword hilt at her waist.

She’d stopped the Stormtrooper. Seeing Mordred deflect blasts blindfolded was one thing, but this…? Morgan hadn’t been anywhere near the trooper and yet she had stopped him—saving both Lynette and Ax.

“Ax?” Lynette asked, fighting to keep her voice low. As much as she wanted to shout at her friend to make sure he was alright, they weren’t out of the asteroid field yet.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled as Morgan bent over to help him to his feet. Lynette caught the old woman’s eye and nodded. It was the best she could manage under the circumstances. Maybe if they got out of this alive she’d have time to voice a proper thank you.

Mordred’s head popped up out of the compartment. “Can we come out?”

“Yeah,” Lynette said, motioning get to the Stormtrooper who was slumped against the wall. “Puppy, get into that armor. Ax, Morgan, get the droids up here.”

As Mordred climbed up out of the compartment, Lynette turned her attention back to the body beneath her. She finally shifted off the trooper and flipped it over so she could pull off the armor.

“TK-421, why aren’t you at your post?”

Lynette froze as a male voice came over loud and clear through the Stormtroopers’ radios.

“TK-536, do you copy?” the voice continued.

Lynette looked over her shoulder but Mordred was about as far along as she was. Her eyes found Ax and he shook his head. No ideas. No plan. They had no way out of this.

Her hand went to her blaster. If it was a fight the Empire wanted, it was a fight they were going to get. It wasn’t a way out, but it was better than passively waiting for the end.

“Wait,” Morgan said as Lynette moved towards the gangplank. She straightened up as AC-LN climbed up her robe and perched on her shoulder. “I’ll handle this. Wait for my signal and be ready to move fast. Dinadan will no doubt need some help.”

“Should we stop?” Mordred asked, motioning to the unconscious Stormtroopers. 

“No, the armor will make things easier,” Morgan said, walking past him.

Too late Lynette realized her intention. She lunged for the old lady only to watch helplessly as her fingers just missed Morgan’s robes. She hit the floor with a thump and could only stare on with wide eyes as Morgan made her way down the gangplank and stepped onto the space station.

Lying on the ground, Lynette could see Morgan at the bottom of the gangplank and little else. She watched as the old woman looked at something above her before tapping at her ear. Lynette blinked and suddenly it wasn’t Morgan at the bottom of the gangplank but a Stormtrooper. She started and Morgan reappeared, but only for a moment before stepping forward and out of sight.

“What’s going on?” Ax asked as Lynette got back to her feet and returned to pulling the armor off the unconscious Stormtrooper.

“I have no idea,” Lynette said. “But since no one is shooting yet, I figure we’d better be ready.”

She had just finished struggling into the chest plate when the radio came alive again. This time it was Morgan’s voice on the other end.

“Captain Perilous?” she asked. “Are you still with us?”

“All here, old lady, and waiting for your word,” Lynette. She glanced back at the others. Mordred had also finished dressing in the armor—only the helmet was tucked underneath his arm. Ax and Dinadan were waiting near the gangplank. They both looked like they were ready to move at a moment’s notice.

“About fifty feet ahead of you is a lift,” Morgan said. “It will take you up to a command tower. This place is well fortified and should serve our purposes.”

“How do we get to the lift?” Lynette asked. “If we run for it—?”

“No,” Morgan said. “Create a diamond formation. Dinadan in the front, you and Mordred to the sides, Ax bringing up the rear. Walk purposefully towards the lift. Let Dinadan set your pace. Run only if someone calls out for you to stop. Whatever happens, get to the lift. We’ll decide our next course of action from there.”

“Whatever you say, old lady,” Lynette said, pulling on the helmet. Mordred did the same and they both got to their feet.

“I say this without irony,” Ax said. “You’re both too short to pull this off.”

Lynette shook her head, a move that had to be exaggerated around the white helmet. “You clearly don’t belong here, Ax. If something goes wrong, it won’t be our height that tipped them off.”

“Oh dear!” Dinadan exclaimed as Mordred maneuvered him toward the gangplank.

“Quiet!” Mordred hissed.

“I’m no good for this, sir,” Dinadan continued. “Just leave me here. Put me back in the compartment. I promise I won’t talk. I’ve had enough adventure to last a lifetime and I want no more of it.”

“Maybe we should just shoot him,” Lynette said, holding up the Stormtrooper’s blaster. It was a lot bigger than the one she carried and she wasn’t sure she liked the feel of it. “It would make the exact same amount of noise.”

Dinadan squawked indignantly and Lynette aimed the blaster, ready to put an end to this. Mordred shifted before she could fire a shot. He turned Dinadan around and flipped something on the back of the droid’s neck. Immediately the BARD unit went quiet.

“No we’re all going to walk out of here,” Mordred said softly, maneuvering Dinadan into position. Lynette stepped up beside him while Ax took his place in the rear. Mordred gave Dinadan a tiny push and the droid led them down the gangplank and out onto the space station.

Lynette tensed as the protective walls of the Damsel fell away and were replaced by the wide open space of the station’s hanger. Her hands tightened around her blaster as they began the slow trek towards the lift. They let Dinadan set the pace as Morgan had suggested. Not that they had much of a choice. From what Lynette had seen, they would have to carry the droid if they wanted him to go any faster.

With every step, Lynette expected someone to shout at them to stop. She expected her next step to be at a dead sprint. But the shouts never came. The lift doors were open when they reached it and they stepped inside without a word. The door whooshed shut behind them.

Mordred dropped back against the walls of the lift and doubled over in relief. Lynette loosened her grip on her blaster only to have to tighten them immediately when her hands started shaking.

“We made it,” Ax whispered. “I can’t believe it. We actually made it.”

“You and me both,” Lynette said.

Dinadan reached out and smacked Mordred arm.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, straightening up and turning the BARD’s voice back on.

“Well I never!” Dinadan said. “How would you like it if someone turned your voice off without asking for permission?”

Lynette giggled. She couldn’t help it. They had made it off the Damsel unscathed. All they needed to do was access the controls to the tractor beam, turn it off, and they would be home free. She was going to get her ship out of here. The Empire wasn’t going to be able to stop her.

Ax stare up at her, dumbstruck, before breaking down into a chuckle. Mordred remained silent and Lynette hoped the puppy was at least smiling under his helmet.

The lift doors opened and Lynette stepped into the command tower in good spirits. Those spirits immediately fell as she caught sight of the two bodies laid out across the floor. They had both been stabbed through the chest and their throats slit.

“What the hell?” Lynette asked. Her eyes found Morgan, who was standing next to a window, facing away from them. The old lady slowly turned and Lynette saw the knife in her hand. She was cleaning the blood off it with a piece of cloth. “You ever hear of overkill?”

“Caliburn blades can’t kill,” Mordred said softly. Lynette blinked, unsure if that was supposed to mean anything to her.

“No, they can’t,” Morgan said, sliding the knife back into her belt.

AC-LN started buzzing and Lynette was relieved to see that the atromech was already plugged into the computer terminal. Pulling off her helmet, Lynette glanced around the rest of the command tower—taking in the control room and the various pieces of equipment.

“There’s no other exit,” Lynette said, looking back and forth at the walls lined with computers. “The lift’s the only way in or out.”

“And the window,” Morgan said.

“What’s wrong with you, old lady?” Lynette snapped. “If they catch us in here, we’re dead.”

“Well, first they’d have to get up here,” Morgan said. “Accolon can take care of the lift and the rest of us will handle the windows.”

“And just how will we get out?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something—we’ve done well for ourselves so far,” Morgan said. She looked past Lynette and the captain felt her blood boil at her concerns being so easily dismissed. “Mordred, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” the puppy said after a moment. He didn’t sound fine. Lynette turned and grabbed his arm, suddenly afraid he was about to fall over.

“Sit down,” Morgan said, motioning to the chairs in front of the computer consoles. “Come on.”

A hand still on his arm, Lynette helped Mordred cross the room and lowered him into one of the chairs. He managed to get the helmet off on his own without any prompting and leaned forward, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t know,” Mordred said. “I just got dizzy all of a sudden.”

“I wonder why,” Lynette muttered, her mind on the bodies just a few feet away from her. She looked up at Morgan, expecting the familiar look of barely concealed disgust. Instead, the old woman had gone pale. Great. Just great.

“Are you sick too?” Lynette asked. Morgan didn’t answer her. She continued to stare at Mordred, her expression fearfully. “Old lady!”

“What?” Morgan asked, starting.

“Are you sick too?”

“No, no,” the old woman said, turning away from Lynette and Mordred and going to the window.

“All, I wanted was to get paid,” Lynette muttered, leaving Mordred’s side and going over to AC-LN. “Hey, tin can. How about you turn off the tractor beam so we can get the hell out of here.” The droid buzzed and clicked at her.

“It says it’s not that simple,” Dinadan said.

“Of course it isn’t,” Lynette said under her breath.

“AC-LN can turn off the tractor beam from here,” Dinadan continued. “But there are several stations throughout the space station that could access the tractor beam and turn it back on should we attempt to leave. There is no way for him to lock the controls to this station.”

“So we’re dead in the water as soon as we take off,” Lynette said.

“They might not notice,” Ax said. “We might be able to make it out before they realize their problem with the tractor beam is something so simple.”

“They towed us in for a long time, Ax,” Lynette said. “Do you really think we can clear that before they finish troubleshooting?”

“And if they catch us they’ll know we’re on the ship,” Mordred said. “We won’t be able to use that smuggling trick again.”

“Hyperdrive,” Ax said.

“No,” Morgan said firmly. “Accolon, is there another way? If we could power down the tractor beam at its source, it’s unlikely they’ll be able to get it up and running again before we clear their space and make the jump to lightspeed.”

More buzzes, clicks, and whistles.

“AC’s found something,” Dinadan said. “It’s bringing it up on screen.”

The AC unit continued to buzz and click as the video screen ran through a map of the space station—starting with their location and leading out to some sort of power relay at the center of the station. Lynette started to feel sick as the squiggly line on the screen made turn after turn through the station. This was hopeless. They would never, ever be able to make it. They were lucky no one had made their location yet or realized those Stormtroopers and sensor techs were missing or that the officers from this command tower hadn’t reported in. They would never be able to make it to the center of this station and back without someone catching them.

“While there are several hundred tractor beam panels scattered across the exterior of the station, they are all wired in to the same power source,” Dinadan was saying. “Disabling the terminal shown on screen will cut power to the tractor beams without interrupting any other systems. AC-LN has already recoded the system so the disabled terminal will not appear on any systems check. The hard work is done. You need only get there.”

“Simple, really,” Lynette said sarcastically. “What’s plan B?”

“No,” Morgan said. “This is doable.”

“Doable? Have you seen that map? We’ll never make it to that terminal without someone noticing.”

“No, we won’t,” Morgan said. “But I can.”

“What? Alone?” Mordred asked, getting to his feet.

“It’s our best course. The Stormtroopers have weak minds and the officers aren’t much better. But considering the number of troops on this station, I doubt my ability to keep us all out of sight at all times. I’ll have a much easier time keeping them from seeing me if I’m alone.”

Mordred opened his mouth and nothing came out. Lynette’s heart went out to the kid. First his aunt and cousin were killed by the Empire. Then another cousin was captured and presumed dead. Now his remaining aunt was prepared to leave him behind while she went off on a suicide mission. He had to feel like he was hemorrhaging family at this point.

“I’m sorry, nephew,” Morgan said, resting a hand on his cheek. “But my prime concern is your safety and the droids. If nothing else you three must make your way to the rebellion. People are depending on them and counting on you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Mordred said softly.

Morgan stepped away from him and looked at Lynette. “Accolon will alert you when I’ve disabled the terminal. He’ll also be able to alert you if anything should go wrong. I suggest you use your time here to concoct a plan B should you find yourselves facing a hanger full of Stormtroopers.”

And then she was gone. Into the lift and out of their hair. For now. Mordred went back to the chair he had been sitting in. He learned forward and buried his face in his hands. Lynette wasn’t sure if he was dizzy again or way more upset than he was willing to let on in front of two virtual strangers. And she didn’t really think it was her place to ask.

“Alright,” Lynette said. “All in favor of just using the hyperdrive should anything else go wrong, say aye.”

“Aye,” Ax said as AC-LN buzzed in a way that could only be construed as negatory. Lynette didn’t care.

“That’s a yes, tin can. The ayes have it.”

“Well I never,” Dinadan huffed as AC-LN continued to buzz at her in none too polite a manner. “AC says—”

“Yes, I got that, thank you,” Lynette said, turning away from the lot of them. She went over to the bodies of the officers. She squatted down next to them and looked them over. Looting the dead certainly wasn’t going to go down in history as one of her better moments. But these were officers on the Empire’s most powerful space station. The equipment they carried could mean life or death to Lynette and her companions down the line.

Ax followed her across the room but didn’t make any move to help her. He understood it was busywork she needed to do on her own.

“You know what the worst part of this is?” Lynette asked as she found a set of comlinks on the bodies.

“We’re not getting paid?” Ax asked. Lynette shook her head. “We’re going to have to be a lot more careful with our smuggling from now on because the Empire knows the Damsel?”

“Ugh, that’s just awful isn’t it?” Lynette asked. Ax nodded. “And it’s not even the worst of it.”

“You still owe a debt to Ironside.”

Lynette nodded. “He sent the rainbow after me, Ax,” she whispered. “You saw Perarde at the bar. I had to kill him. But he said…he said the rest of the rainbow would go to Perilyn. I’m never going to be able to repay this debt to Ironside with the Empire breathing down my neck and he’s going to take it out on Perilyn. If anything happens to—”

“She’s as tough as you are, lass. She’ll handle Ironside. Right now we need to worry about getting ourselves to safety.”

AC-LN let out a shrill buzz. Both Lynette and Ax turned to face the droid, who was clicking excitedly.

“Prince Gaheris?" Dinadan asked and across the room, Mordred jerked upright.  "What do you mean Prince Gaheris is here?"

Chapter Text

“Gaheris?” Mordred asked, surging to his feet to stand beside AC-LN. “Gaheris is here? Gaheris is alive?”

“Your cousin is a prince?” Lynette asked. Suddenly the old lady’s offer of seventeen thousand didn’t seem half as impressive. It must have been a drop in the bucket if her family was royalty. “Are you a prince?” Mordred shook his head.

“Yes sir, in the detention block,” Dinadan said as another map appeared on the screen. Lynette got to her feet and she and Ax moved to stand in front of the screen. The squiggly line wound its way from the command tower to the detention block. It was a lot shorter than the route given to the power terminal. It also led to the detention block.

“Woah, puppy,” Lynette said, facing Mordred and carefully resting a hand on his shoulder. “Just…slow down for a minute. I know this is important to you but you’ve got to think about where we are and where your cousin is. We can’t just walk into the detention block. Not without the old lady to protect us.”

“He’s been tortured,” Mordred said, his never leaving the video screens. Lynette looked back to see that AC-LN had oh-so-helpfully brought Prince Gaheris’ record up on the monitor. “He’s scheduled to be tortured right now.”

The record was incredibly detailed about what had been done to Prince Gaheris since he had been brought aboard the space station. Every conversation he’d had. Every torture session. The record even noted that the destruction of Lothian had been an interrogation session and had yielded ‘promising results.’ That wasn’t what concerned Lynette, though. No. What had her worried was the name of the interrogator in each and every session.

“Ursus,” she said softly. “Isn’t that the guy your aunt told us about? Her old student who betrayed the Knights of Avalon and destroyed the order?”

“Yeah,” Mordred said absently. It was clear he wasn’t listening to her.

“Puppy, hey! Pay attention!” Lynette said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “This guy is a former Knight of Avalon. Have you been paying attention to the shit your aunt is able to do? She threw a Stormtrooper into a wall. She kept who knows how many of them from seeing us and she’s keeping even more from seeing her right now. You can barely defend against a training module blindfolded. We do not have what it takes to go up against this guy.”

AC-LN buzzed.

“Lord Ursus is currently meeting with the Emperor,” Dinadan said. “Logs indicate he never made it to Prince Gaheris’ interrogation session.”

“I’m going,” Mordred said. His tone left no room for argument.

“How are we going to get there without the old lady?” Lynette asked.

“We—I—you don’t have to come. This isn’t what you signed up for and we can’t even pay you anymore.”

“So what? How’re you planning on getting to the detention block on your own?”

“I’ll just walk there,” Mordred said, sounding exasperated. “I’m wearing the uniform. That should be sufficient.”

“You’re too short to pass as a Stormtrooper,” Lynette said.

“So are you,” Mordred snapped.

“Exactly. So let’s not be stupid about this.”

“Things are going to go bad as soon as we get up there anyways. It’s not like we can just ask them to hand Gaheris over and expect them to acquiesce.”

“All the more reason to make sure we get up there without drawing attention to ourselves,” Lynette said. “It’ll give us time to find your cousin and get out before they send up more troopers. Now, think puppy. You’ve got a decent brain in there. There’s got to be a better option than just walking up to the detention block and hoping we don’t cause a scene on the way.”

Mordred sighed, crossing his arms over the breastplate of the Stormtrooper armor. He glared at Lynette and she glared right back, her gaze unwavering. Finally, his gaze slid away from Lynette and onto Ax.

“Prisoner transfer,” he said. “We escort Ax up to the detention block.”

“You what now?” Ax asked. “Lynette may have agreed to join you on this folly, boy, but I have not. Besides, escorting me up to the detention block doesn’t solve your problem. You’re both still too short to pass as Stormtroopers.”

“We won’t be if you’re with us,” Mordred said. “It’s a perspective trick. You’re so short it will make us look taller to anyone passing by.”

Lynette quickly stepped aside as Ax went red in the face. She made her way over to the bodies of the dead officers. She had seen something on one of the men she thought might be useful.

“I’ll have you know, boy,” Ax huffed. “That it is considered the highest insult for you tall folk to refer to our stature in such a derogatory manor.”

Mordred blanched. “I—”

“Leave him alone, Ax,” Lynette said, stepping up behind the dwarf. “You know he didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, you’ve been ribbing on our height since we got here.”

Ax spun around to face her. His mouth was open to start yelling, but he paused when he found himself staring at the item Lynette had found on the dead officer. She had it hanging off her finger with her hand positioned at Ax’s eye level.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Binders,” Lynette said.

“Oh no,” Ax said, taking a giant step backwards. “No, no. Not in this lifetime.”

“Come on, Ax,” Lynette said. “The puppy’s onto something with the perception trick and we need you up there with us. Three fighters up in the detention block stand a hell of a better chance than two.”

“And the binders will help sell it,” Mordred said. “Keep people from looking too closely at us.”

Ax turned to Mordred. “What if we can’t get them off?”

Lynette slapped one of the cuffs around his wrist when he wasn’t looking. Ax shrieked and jumped away from her.

“Look,” Lynette said. “It doesn’t even close around your wrist. You’ll be fine.”

Ax growled at her but didn’t make any further protestations about his part in the plan.

“Now you two,” Lynette said, pointing to the two droids. “Can you track us through the station?”

AC-LN started buzzing and clicking.

“AC can do it through the radio on your uniform, but it does not advise it,” Dinadan said. “Your radio would have to appear within the network and it’s far more likely an officer will realize your radio is not where it’s supposed to be.”

“What about these?” Lynette asked, holding out the comlinks she had found on the dead officers. AC-LN started shrieking excitedly.

“Yes, those will work just fine,” Dinadan said. “AC can track the signal between the two comlinks.”

“Good. I want every door to open for us when near it. Every lift to be there when we signal for it. As long as we keep moving we’ll be less likely to be caught.”

“Yes, captain,” Dinadan said as Lynette grabbed her helmet and the big blaster. Mordred did the same. Ax had managed to get both cuffs positioned on his wrists so it wasn’t obvious they couldn’t latch and was waiting by the lift doors.

“Please sir, captain,” Dinanda said. “What should we do if we’re discovered here?”

“We already voted on this,” Lynette said. The lift doors glided open as she and Mordred approached them. “Use the hyperdrive.”

“That’s not—we can’t just—how are we to—”

The bard droid was still sputtering as they entered the lift and the doors slid shut. The lift descended and deposited them back on the hanger level.

“You remember where to go?” Lynette asked, her voice muffled by the helmet.

“Yeah,” Mordred said.

They walked side by side, Ax between them. They both remembered enough of the map that they were able to move as a unit. Ax had apparently forgotten what he had seen entirely—if he had ever even looked. That ended up working to their advantage. It meant they could manhandle and prod him into turns and around corners.

AC-LN managed its end of things seamlessly. Every door opened for them. And the one lift they needed opened before Mordred even had a chance to summon it. A tech tried to get in behind them, but Ax snarled and lunged at him. As Lynette and Mordred held the dwarf back, the tech stepped backwards and motioned that he would take the next one.

“Well,” Ax asked as the doors slid shut. “If we’re going to start shooting as soon as we get up there, someone is going to need to give me their weapon.”

“Let’s try talking first,” Mordred said. “See how far that gets us.”

“Why?” Lynette asked. “You’re the one who said asking nicely wasn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“It probably won’t, but at least we can distract them before we start shooting,” Mordred said.

There was no time to tell him he was being an idiot and that the element of surprise was the best distraction they were going to get. The lift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open, revealing the detention block.

The space before them was small and circular, which Lynette figured could only work to their advantage. The large computer consoles in the center of the room would make for excellent cover. There was a long hallway off the back of the room. Lynette thought she could make out someone moving around back there. Something to keep in mind when the shooting started.

“What’s going on?” the ranking officer asked, moving out from behind the computer consoles to stand before them.

“Found him on the ship that was hauled in,” Mordred said. “He’s scheduled to be interrogated. Lord Ursus thinks he knows something about the droids.”

“Why wasn’t I notified?”

Mordred shrugged. “Things are moving fast down there.”

“Still, I should have been informed,” the officer said. He motioned to two guards as he turned away from them. “Contact the hanger and ask for a status report.”

The two guards made their way around the perimeter of the room. They stopped in front of Ax and one reached out to take him by the shoulder.

Ax moved, head-butting the first guard in the stomach and driving his shoulder into the chest of the other one. Lynette brought her blaster up and started firing. Next to her, Mordred did the same. They took down three of the officers around the computer in short order and Lynette decided to leave the rest of the personnel to him. She turned her attention to the ceiling and started blowing out the security cameras.

Next to her, Ax pulled the bindings off his wrists and grabbed a blaster off one of the guards that tried to grab him. He shot both guards before moving on to help Mordred with the remaining personnel. Two guards ran out from the long hallway and all three blasters turned on them. The guards dropped to the ground before they ever made it out of the hallway. Lynette didn’t know whose shot took them down and she didn’t care. What mattered was that their way was clear.

“Dinadan,” Mordred said into the comlink. “We’re in the detention block. Have AC open Gaheris’ cell.”

“Get going,” Lynette said as she stepped into the ring of computer consoles. “Ax and I will handle things here.”

Mordred nodded before disappearing down the long hallway.

“Detention block, report,” said a voice through one of the stations. One of the dead officers had slumped over it as he died. Ax grabbed him by the waist and pulled him off. Standing on his tiptoes, Ax reached for the radio. His hand grasped at air—not even his fingertips came close to touching it.

Lynette reached over him to grab the radio. She pulled at it and froze. It was locked in place and you had to be pressing the button right in front of it to speak.

She turned and looked around the room, looking for something Ax could use as a step stool. All she saw were bodies and that wouldn’t work. Dwarves were almost entirely muscle and also probably rocks. Lynette knew from experience that Ax weighed a ton. He’d crush any puny human he tried to stand on.

“You’ll have to do it,” Ax said, taking a step back.

“Right,” Lynette said, her gaze sweeping across the room again. “So…do you think they know that it’s a total sausage fest in here or is that something you just don’t keep track of on a station this big?”

Morgan could feel him as she made her way through the halls of the Empire’s space station. She almost reveled in his presence, even though it was more foreign than familiar. She couldn’t feel anything of the man he had once been. There was only Ursus—the Emperor’s bloodhound.

Nevertheless, it was him. Or at least pieces of him. And despite everything that had happened, she missed him desperately. She kept reaching out towards him with the force and was gratified when she felt him do the same. She only felt his anger—his fury at her sudden reappearance at his moment of glory. She felt fear—he knew she had the droids and he knew the danger that posed to the Empire. And sometimes she thought she could feel the lingering whispers of his love.

She couldn’t keep him from knowing that she was on the station. She would have appeared like a beacon in his mind, just as he did to her. There would be no hiding from him, so instead she made her presence obvious. He would get nothing from her. Unlike him, she didn’t poor her emotions into her use of the force. She was calm and her thoughts were empty. He wouldn’t know why she had chosen to reach out to him. He wouldn’t know about the fear that had settled deep in her gut despite her best efforts to banish it.

So long as she kept her mind clear, he wouldn’t learn about Mordred.     

Chapter Text

Curled up on the cold metal bench of his cell, Gaheris couldn’t remember the last time he had ever felt so miserable. One would think the loss of their entire planet would be as low as a person could go but, as always, the Empire aimed for a higher standard. They had given him something maybe an hour ago—in preparation for his next interrogation, the guard had said. It had left Gaheris dizzy and nauseous and his vision kept blurring in and out. Keeping his eyes shut tight had mitigated all three symptoms, but that didn’t leave him feeling much better. He wasn’t sure there was a better anymore.

The door to his cell whooshed open. Gaheris groaned and tucked his head down, tightening his arms around his stomach. If the Stormtroopers pulled him to his feet as violently as they had in the past, he was going to vomit all over them. That, at least, would make his day.

For a moment there was nothing. No immediate call to get to his feet. No even march of footsteps into his cell. What was going on? It wasn’t like the Stormtroopers to not be prompt in their demands.

Finally he heard footsteps jogging down the hallway. There was the sound of boots skidding to a stop along the metal floor of the hallway. Gaheris opened his eyes and almost turned to look. But the gray wall in front of him was blurry and washed out, causing another wave of dizziness to hit him. Gaheris closed his eyes and tightened his arms around his stomach.

“Gaheris,” a muffled voice said.    

“What? Are we dropping the honorific now that my planet’s been destroyed?” Gaheris asked bitterly.

“Gaheris,” the voice said again. This time the muffle was gone. Gaheris almost opened his eyes again. He’d never heard of a Stormtrooper removing his helmet. “It’s Mordred.”

Gaheris’ eyes flew open and this time he did turn. His vision was clear and he was able to take in the young man before him. Mordred had been thirteen when Gaheris left Cornwall. Still just a child. But there were enough common features between the boy Gaheris remembered and the man before him that there was little doubt in Gaheris’ mind. Besides, the dragon could assuage any doubts he had later. They had more important things to worry about right now.

“What are you doing here?” Gaheris asked, stumbling to his feet and reaching out to Mordred. A wave of dizziness hit him right as he reached his cousins and it was only Mordred’s hands on his shoulders that kept him upright.

“That’s a long story,” Mordred said. “But right now we’re rescuing you. Come on.”

“We?” Gaheris asked as Mordred pulled him out of his cell and into the hallway. His vision blurred and the world well and truly began to spin. He could hear an explosion followed by shooting and shouting, but it all sounded very far away under the roar in his ears. Mordred let go of him to shoot at something and Gaheris stumbled forward into the opposite wall.

“What happened?” Mordred yelled. The roar had dulled so Gaheris risked turning his head and opening his eyes. There was another figure in the Stormtrooper armor running towards them. Since Mordred wasn’t shooting at them, Gaheris figured whoever it was was a part of the ‘we’. Behind the person in the armor was someone much, much shorter. Was that a dwarf?

“Slight hitch,” a woman’s voice said. “Turns out they totally knew there weren’t any girls working up here.”

“Why didn’t Ax talk to them?” Mordred asked.

“He couldn’t reach the controls!”

A blaster fire hit the wall somewhere close to him. Gaheris huddled against the wall as Mordred and his companions returned fire. Gaheris felt Mordred drop back against the wall in front of him—trying to both shield Gaheris from the blaster shots while returning fire. As his dizziness finally faded and his vision cleared, Gaheris finally risked  turning around to see what they had gotten themselves into.

“That’s the only way out,” Gaheris said as he looked down the main hallway of the detention block towards the control room—where all the shooting was coming from.

“Oh, thank you Prince Charming,” the woman said sarcastically. “What ever would we do without your wise and noble counsel?”

“Prince what?” Gaheris asked, feeling as though he’d been thrown into an alternate dimension where up was right and left was down.

“Dinadan,” Mordred said into a comlink in his hand. “Ask AC if there’s another way out of the detention block.”

Gaheris smacked Mordred’s arm, well and truly angry now. “You brought the droids onto the Death Star?” It was one thing for Mordred to launch a half-assed rescue mission—that wasn’t good, but Gaheris could live with it. Maybe. It was another thing for him to hand deliver the one hope of the rebellion back to the Empire. “Did you even make it to the rebellion?”

“No,” Mordred said. “We were on our way to Lothian but…” He trailed off and Gaheris didn’t need to hear more. He could guess what had happened. They would have found Lothian destroyed and the Death Star waiting for them.

“Why Lothian? Mom knows how to find the rebellion.”

“I’m here with Aunt Morgan—”

“She knows too!”

“She didn’t want Lynette to know where the rebellion was.”

“Oh, so nice to know we could have avoided this whole mess if the old lady had been trusting enough to put the right coordinates into the Damsel,” the woman snapped.

“Wait, you hired someone? Why didn’t you just take the ship under Tintagel?”

“What ship under Tintagel?”

“Hey, children!” the dwarf yelled. “Dinadan is trying to talk to you! Escape now, argue later!”

Mordred brought the comlink back to his lips. “Can you repeat that?”

“Security has sent out a base wide alert, locking down all non-critical systems in the detention block,” came the voice of the BARD unit. “I’m afraid AC-LN can’t do more for you without alerting the station to our presence. All you need do is give the word, sir, and we’re willing to make that sacrifice.”

“No, no!” Gaheris yelled over Mordred shoulder. “Dinadan, whatever happens, you and AC stay hidden! You need to protect the plans AC is carrying at all costs.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Lynette yelled. “How the hell are the droids going to get off this station without us?” 

“AC’s resourceful, it’ll think of something.”

“So, what? We just keep boldly fighting until we’re shot and killed?”

“That would be the ideal resolution, yes.”

Mordred took a step backwards as the Stormtroopers continued to push in on their position. Gaheris shuffled back along the wall, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. His vision blurred again and he felt another wave of dizziness coming on. Unwilling to close his eyes at this point, he stared at the dark wall across from him, hoping things would righten themselves in the next few seconds.

“We’re not going to be able to hold them off much longer,” the dwarf said. “If we’re going to make one last attempt to weasel our way out of this, it needs to be now.”

Gaheris’ gaze fell towards the floor. They had come here to help him and now Mordred and two strangers were about to get themselves killed for their troubles. First the crew of the Gringolet, now…wait.

Gaheris lifted his gaze to the panel just above the floor. It had a hinge. It opened into something…like the trash compactor he’d heard groaning twice a day just below his cell.

“Garbage chute!” he said, tugging on Mordred’s arm and pointing toward the panel. “Garbage chute!”

Mordred turned and fired his blaster at the panel. Lynette and the dwarf shrieked as the blast landed right behind them. They both turned to look as the panel fell open. Lynette turned her attention back to the approaching Stormtroopers as the dwarf peered down into the chute.

“This is your plan?” he asked.

“It gets us out of here and buys us time to think of a new plan,” Gaheris said. “Or would you rather just throw down you weapons and surrender?”

Lynette stepped out into the center of the center of the hallway and three quick shots took down the Stormtroopers visible around all the smoke from the blaster fire. For a moment, their way was clear.

“Go!” she yelled, motioning to the garbage chute. “Hurry!”

Grabbing Gaheris’s arm, Mordred pulled him across the hallway as Lynette laid down covering fire. Mordred disappeared down into the chute first and, with a glance back at Lynette and the dwarf, Gaheris jumped in after him.

Ursus entered the command deck to find Tiberius pacing back and forth along one the communication consoles. Ursus slowed as he took in the scene in front of him. It was a flurry of activity—personnel darting back and forth and talking rapidly. Something had gone wrong and Ursus bet he knew who was at the heart of it.   

“There you are,” Tiberius said, turning to face Ursus.

“What’s going on?” Ursus asked.

“Intruders,” Tiberius said. “They attacked the detention block. Security logs indicate Prince Gaheris’ cell has been opened. We’ve dispatched a squadron of Stormtroopers to handle it and are waiting for news.”

“I see,” Ursus said, reaching out to her familiar presence. Calm and steady as always. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything else.

“You seem unsurprised,” Tiberius said sharply.

“She’s here,” Ursus said. “Morgan le Fay.”

Tiberius started before shaking his head. “That’s impossible.”

“I’ve felt her,” Ursus said. “Reaching out to me as I reach out to her.”

“She alerted you purposefully?”

Ursus shrugged. “She knew she would be unable to hide forever. It works to both our advantages to not even bother. But that’s not what concerns me.”

“What does?”

“Where Morgan goes, the Queen of Air and Darkness herself is never far behind.”

“Morgause,” Tiberius breathed in disbelief. “You think she’s on the station?” Ursus nodded. “Wouldn’t you be able to sense her, as you do Morgan?”

“No,” Ursus said. “That’s what always made her such a danger, Grand Moff. I suspect that’s why Morgan is making such a spectacle of herself. She’s providing just enough of a distraction to keep me from digging deeper. From finding the true power behind the rebellion.”

“We thought her dead,” Tiberius said. “We thought she would come out of hiding when her two youngest joined the rebellion. When she didn’t we all assumed—”

“I should have seen it before,” Ursus said. “The theft of the Death Star plans stinks of her. Prince Gaheris running to Cornwall once he had the plans should have been all of the evidence I needed. Only she would be so bold as to come upon this station and dare such a rescue mission.”

“Grand Moff Tiberius,” one of the communications officers said. “The intruders in the detention block have escape.”

“How?” Tiberius asked, spinning around to look over the communication’s console.

“They call her the Queen of Air and Darkness for a reason,” Ursus said.

“Through the garbage chute, sir,” the officer said. “They’re in one of the trash compactors.”

“Yes, such a great power indeed,” Tiberius said, giving Ursus a look of disgust. Ursus growled softly. “Turn on the trash compactors and let us be done with this.”

“That will not stop her,” Ursus said.

“We shall see.”

“Morgan isn’t with them,” Ursus said. Of this he was certain. Whatever firefight had taken place down in the detention block, Morgan le Fay hadn’t been a part of it.

“Then I leave her fate in your capable hand,” Tiberius said.

Ursus nodded before he turned and left the command deck.  Morgause had once more slipped through the hands of the Empire.  Tiberius could puff out his chest and insist he had her cornered all he liked, but Ursus knew better.  He knew that Morgause wouldn’t be so easily cornered.  But if he could find Morgan—if he could capture her—Morgause would coming running in to save her sister. 

She always did.   

Dinadan looked up as his sensors picked up shouting and the thunder of footsteps from outside the command tower. He shuffled over to the window and looked down to see Stormtroopers swarming the Savage Damsel.

“Oh dear” Dinadan said. “This isn’t good at all.”

“Hey up there!” a trooper yelled, waving a Dinadan. “Let us up!”

“We can’t!” Dinadan said, throwing his arms up into the air. “They locked us in!”

He shuffled backwards before the trooper could say anything else.

“Better unplug,” Dinadan said to AC-LN.

“Need help,” AC-LN buzzed.

“Prince Gaheris said to take care of ourselves first,” Dinadan said. “If they come up here and see you mucking about with the computers, they’ll know we’re not a part of this station. We won’t be able to help the others if we’re captured.”

AC-LN let out a small chirp of defeat that Dinadan’s sensors weren’t able to translate before unplugging from the central computer. Dinadan turned off the comlink and together the two droids turned to face the lift.

Chapter Text

Mordred yelled as he landed roughly on a pile of garbage. He lay dazed for a second before gathering his wits enough to roll aside right before Gaheris dropped out of the chute and landed on the same spot. When Gaheris only groaned and made no move to get out of the way, Mordred grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him off to the side. Gaheris ended up sliding down the pile and landed in knee deep sewage. He immediately doubled over and vomited.

“Hey, are you alright?” Mordred asked, sliding down the pile after Gaheris. His stomach wasn’t feeling so good either—the smell of this place was the worst he’d ever experienced. But he hadn’t vomited yet and he was just a fisherman. Gaheris was a spy and soldier for the rebellion. He should have been holding up better than Mordred was.

Gaheris nodded as he wiped his hand over his mouth, but his face had lost all color and he was swaying slightly on his feet. “They gave me something right before you arrived. The dizziness comes and goes. Just give me a minute.”

“Something…” Mordred trailed off, unable to consider that possibility. He’d just gotten Gaheris back that the thought of losing him now was unbearable.

Gaheris shook his head as he shifted and leaned back against another garbage pile. “It was for my interrogation. To make me more malleable. I’ll be fine, Dred. Stop worrying about me and go find a way out of here.”

Those were words easier said than done since Gaheris still looked like he was about to fall over. Fortunately, Mordred didn’t have to choose. There was a scream from above them as Ax dropped down out of the chute and crashed into the garbage pile with enough force to disappear down into it.

“Ax!” Mordred yelled, scrambling up the pile. The dwarf’s head popped up as Mordred reached the top. “Are you alright?”

“Dwarves weren’t meant to fly, boy,” Ax said, pulling himself out of the pit of crushed garbage. Mordred tried to help him, but Ax waved him off. “It’s against the natural order of things.”

“Says the co-pilot,” Mordred muttered.

“Don’t sass me,” Ax said, waving a finger in Mordred’s face before he slid down the pile. The water, which reached the knees of the humans, went all the way up to Ax’s waist. “Anyone test the door yet?”

“What—” Mordred started to ask as he looked at the wall Ax was heading towards. There was a door there. It nearly blended in with its surroundings, but the hinges were quite visible. “No, not yet.”

Ax pushed himself up out of the water and onto the platform right in front of the door. He gave it a couple hard shoves to no avail. Frowning, Mordred looked up the garbage chute.

“Is Lynette coming?” he asked.

“Who knows,” Ax muttered, pulling out his blaster and shooting the door. He yelped as the blast ricocheted off the wall. Mordred and Gaheris both ducked down against their respective garbage piles as the blast flew to the opposite wall and continues to bounce back and forth across the room before finally dying out.

“Well that’s not our way out,” Ax said, holstering his blaster. Mordred and Gaheris could only stare at him. “Magnetically sealed,” Ax said, tapping his knuckles against the wall. “We’ll have to—”

He trailed off as there was a scream from above them before Lynette dropped out of the chute and crashed into the pit Ax had left behind. Groaning, she pulled herself to her feet and looked around.

“You were right, Ax,” she muttered, climbing out of the pit and perching on top of the garbage. “I should have gone first.” Ax harrumphed and rolled his eyes.

“We’re just glad you made it,” Mordred said.

“Me too,” Lynette said, her tone cheerfully sarcastic. “It’s so much better down here than it was up there. What a killer plan this was. Prince Charming to the rescue.”

“My name is Gaheris.”

“I don’t care,” Lynette said. Both cheer and sarcasm were now gone. “What are you all still doing in here? It’s not going to take them long to figure out what happened to us, if they haven’t already. We need to get out of here.”

“And how would you suggest we do that?” Ax asked.

“Well that’s a door behind you, isn’t it?” Lynette asked, lifting her blaster.

“No!” Ax shouted, too late. She had already fired and he barely had time to dive out of the way as the blast began to ricochet. Mordred and Gaheris ducked down again and Lynette jumped off the garbage pile with a shriek and landed in the sewage water.

“If you had let me finish, you would have known we’d already tried that!” Ax yelled once the blast had dissipated.

“Then you should have opened with that instead of asking for my plan!” Lynette snapped.

“Lad,” Ax said, motioning at Mordred. “Call the droids and see if they can open the door. Or at least break the damn seal.”

“Why even bother asking at all if you already had your own plan,” Lynette muttered, crossing her arms.

“Dinadan,” Mordred said into the comlink. “Dinadan, come in.” Silence was the only answer. “Dinadan?”

“Great,” Gaheris muttered. “They’ve probably been captured.”

“Yeah, and we’re next if we can’t find a way out of here,” Lynette said, making her way over to Ax and jumping up onto the platform with him. Knowing there was very little he could do to help, Mordred settled back beside Gaheris.

“What are you doing here, Dred?” Gaheris asked softly.

“I told you,” Mordred said. “We were on our way to Lothian—”

“Why didn’t mom tell you about the ship? That’s what I can’t figure out. I know there’s little love left between her and Aunt Morgan, but for you I thought…honestly I thought she’d come with you. Agravain too.”

“Gaheris,” Mordred said softly, resting a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “They’re dead. Aunt Morgause and Agravain. They’re…they had me take the droids to Aunt Morgan on my own. When I got back to Tintagel they…I don’t know why they dropped the shield and let the troopers in but they…I’m sorry Gaheris.”

Gaheris didn’t respond. He just stared at the pile of garbage in front of him for a long moment. Then he laughed. One sharp, bitter chuckle.

“Of course they’re dead,” Gaheris said. “I just lost my entire planet. Of course my mother and brother are dead. Wouldn’t surprise me to learn that Gawain and Gareth bit it too. Be fitting, really.”

Mordred shifted, suddenly all too aware of the part he had played in Morgause and Agravain’s deaths.

“I’m sorry, Dred,” Gaheris said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought I couldn’t possibly hurt anymore and now I realize just how wrong I was.”

“Gaheris I…they sent me away. They sent me to Aunt Morgan on my own and I think they let the Stormtroopers into Tintagel so they could give them a false trail. They gave their lives to protect me. It’s my fault.”

“No, Dred. It’s mine. I sent the droids to Cornwall knowing the lengths mom would go to protect you. Knowing the lengths Agravain would go to protect her. They’re dead because I misjudged the Empire’s reaction to losing those plans. None of this would have happened if I had been able to bring the droids down to Cornwall like I was supposed to. Hell, Lothian might still exist if I had just done my damn job.”

Gaheris reached up and grabbed the hand Mordred had rested on his shoulder. He squeezed it tight as he closed his eyes and dropped his head forward.

“Don’t leave, Dred,” Gaheris whispered. “Promise you won’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Mordred said. “And we won’t lose anyone else. You’ll see.”

Near the door, Ax suddenly spun around and lifted his blaster toward the chute. Lynette turned more slowly and lifted her blaster as well.

“What is it, Ax?” she asked.

“I heard something,” Ax said in a hushed tone.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Mordred said and Gaheris shook his head.

“Neither did I, but I’m not about to argue with the ears of a dwarf in a cave-like structure,” Lynette said. Now worried, Mordred straightened and raised his own blaster toward the darkness above them. He still couldn’t hear anything and he certainly couldn’t see anything. But a quick glance at Ax confirmed that something was still very wrong above them.

“Call the droids,” Lynette said. “Maybe we’ll have better luck this time.”

Mordred shifted his blaster around so he could lift the comlink to his mouth. “Dinadan? You there?” Still nothing.

“I heard it again,” Ax said. “There’s definitely something up there.”

“Stormtroopers?” Gaheris asked and Ax shook his head.

“Too big,” he said.

“Boys, get over here,” Lynette said, tightening her grip on her blaster.

“Gaheris, go,” Mordred said. His cousin began to sidle along the piles of garbage—never taking his eyes off the darkness as he moved. Mordred backed up slowly after him. They kept their movements slow and steady—hardly daring to breathe. Hopefully nothing bad would happen so long as they refrained from making any sudden movements.

“Great,” Gaheris said as he climbed up onto the platform. Mordred stopped when his legs bumped up against the edge. He’d have to lower his gun if he wanted to join them up on the platform and he wasn’t quite willing to do that yet.

“Now all of our backs are against a wall and we’re still no closer to getting out of here,” Gaheris continued.

“Well why don’t you work on that, Prince Charming,” Lynette said. “You’re the only one without a weapon.”

“I don’t—”

Mordred didn’t get to hear the rest of what Gaheris had to say as something pulled his legs out from under him. Mordred shouted as he fell backwards. His back slammed against the platform as his legs were lifted up into the air. Then whatever had caught his legs pulled and he shot upwards and into the darkness.

“Mordred!” Lynette yelled as the boy disappeared from sight. Her finger twitched on the trigger of her blaster.

“No, don’t!” Gaheris yelled, practically jumping on Lynette’s back as he reached around her and pushed the blaster down. With a yell Lynette threw him off and turned so the blaster was pointed at his face.

“Weren’t you the one just asking him not to leave?” Lynette asked. She could hear blaster shots and Mordred shouting above them. She didn’t know what he was saying, but she had a feeling those shouts weren’t going to last much longer.

“Unless you’re certain you have a shot, you’re just as likely to kill him on the ricochet,” Gaheris said. Lynette cursed. She had forgotten about the ricochet.

“Ax?”

“I can’t see anything,” Ax said. “And I don’t trust my ears well enough to try.”

“We have to do something!” Lynette said. Her eyes scanned the walls looking for handholds. She turned back to the garbage, hoping there was a pile tall enough to get her close enough. She just needed to get closer. Close enough to see what was up there. Close enough to make the shot.

The shouting and shooting stopped and a moment later Mordred’s blaster fell out of the darkness. It landed in the water right in front of them with a splash and sunk out of sight. The sound that came out of Gaheris’ mouth just about broke her heart. In a blind panic, Ax turned and slammed his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge.

He moved to try again when there was a scream from above them that couldn’t possibly have been made by anything humanoid. It was followed by an all too familiar yell as Mordred fell out of the darkness and landed roughly on a pile of garbage. He turned quickly and slid down the pile, but Lynette only had eyes for the item in his hand. It was the sword the old lady had been teaching him to use.

“What happened?” Lynette yelled.

“You have the Caliburn sword?” Gaheris shouted. Lynette turned to look at him. That did not strike her as something that deserved to be at the top of the list of things worth worrying about. The soft clicking from above them that grew louder every second seemed to confirm her suspicions.

“I think I made them mad,” Mordred said.

She looked up and saw two giant spider-like creatures slowly descending down from the darkness. Lynette screamed and stepped backwards. She would have run right into Gaheris if he hadn’t already slammed backwards into the wall. One of the spiders hissed and Lynette lifted her blaster and shot it. The blast seemed to be absorbed into the creatures’ skin and it kept descending downward, unfazed.

“Blasters don’t work on them,” Mordred said, sloshing through the water to take up a defensive stance a few feet in front of the platform.

“But that thing does?” Lynette asked.

“So far so good,” Mordred said.

“No, Dred, you need to cut through the door!” Gaheris said.

“What?”

One of the spiders had just landed on a pile of garbage and Lynette applauded Mordred for keeping his attention right where it needed to be.

“A Caliburn blade can cut through anything! You can cut through the door and get us out of here!”

The spider on the pile of garbage spat out a string of webbing. It hit Lynette right in the chest with enough force to send her stumbling backwards. She was still off balance as the webbing was reeled in and she was pulled off the platform towards the spider. She hit the water sideways and was pulled through it a good foot before Mordred cut through the webbing, freeing her from the creature.

“Are you alright?” Mordred asked, not bothering to offer her a hand. Lynette didn’t blame him. The other spider had reached the garbage pile and Mordred seemed at a loss of where to look.

Lynette sloshed through the water on her hands and knees in an attempt to give Mordred the room he needed to maneuver. Her hands swept across the bottom and ran into Mordred’s lost blaster. Lynette pulled it up out of the water and tossed it along with her own onto the platform with Ax and Gaheris.

Getting to her feet, she pulled a long pole off one of the garbage piles. As the two spiders moved in on them, Mordred took on one as Lynette swung her pole at the head of the other. The spider’s head turned as the pole made contact and it captured the metal rod in its teeth. Lynette grunted and stumbled forward as the spider tugged on the pole. Her legs knocked against something hard and heavy in the water and she was able to brace herself and pull back. The spider responded by swinging its head back and forth.

“Hey!” Ax yelled, firing a blaster shot at the spider.

Two more followed in rapid succession. The spider let go of Lynette’s pole and she stumbled backwards. The spider swung around and lunged at Ax. He shrieked and dropped his blaster, grabbing onto the spider’s two main fangs before they closed around him. Dwarven strength prevailed as Ax pushed back against the spider. But his arms were shaking and Lynette knew he wouldn’t last forever.

Gaheris retrieved one of the discarded blasters from the ground and fired a shot into the creature’s mouth. That was about as effective as every other shot they’d taken at these things. Lynette swung her pole around and tried to stab it into the creature’s abdomen. It bounced off without leaving a mark.

Behind her she could hear the other creature screaming as Mordred cut into it. She spared a quick glance backward to see it dancing just out of Mordred’s reach. But every time he moved to help them, the creature lunged after him again—taking the superficial cuts so its companion could take down the rest of their prey.

“Do…something…” Ax grunted as his feet began to slip backwards on the platform.

There was a low groan from somewhere deep beneath them and suddenly both spiders were gone. They turned lightning fast and scurried up the walls and back into the darkness.

“Uh-oh,” Gaheris said.

“What uh-oh?” Lynette asked, her eyes on the darkness in case the spiders decided to come back with reinforcements. “What happened?”

“They turned it on,” Gaheris said right before the walls began closing in on them.

“I’m starting to think we would have been better off up in the detention block!” Lynette yelled, throwing her pole away in disgust.

“Mordred, get up here and cut through the door!” Gaheris said.

Mordred crossed the room and jumped up onto the platform as Gaheris and Ax shuffled out of his way. He drew the sword back and stabbed it at the wall. Lynette’s shoulder’s tensed—expecting the blade to deflect. It didn’t. Instead it went through the door like a knife through butter. It was when he tried to push the blade down to cut open the hole they needed that he got stuck.

“What’s wrong?” Gaheris asked.

“It won’t budge,” Mordred said, pulling back on the sword. He got it about halfway out before he pushed it back in at a downward angle. That got him somewhere and a repeat of the sawing motion got him further. The beginnings of a hole were beginning to form. Just not fast enough. Lynette looked back and forth at the walls as they continued to draw ever inwards.

“He’s not going to make it,” Lynette said.

“He will,” Gaheris insisted.

“Do you still have the comlink?” Lynette asked. Mordred nodded and paused sawing long enough to pull the comlink out of the armor’s wrist guard and pass it to her.

“Hey! Tin cans!” Lynette yelled into the comlink. “Where the hell are you! We need you right now!”

Chapter Text

AC-LN was a fritzing, corrupted mess by the time the Stormtroopers managed to break the lock on the lift and ascend into the command tower. It even went so far as to shock the first Stormtrooper that got too close to it.

“Intruder!” it buzzed. “Imposter! Murderer!”

“I’m terribly sorry!” Dinadan said, throwing up his hands in despair as the Stormtrooper shook out his hand while the two others raised their blasters. “They came in dressed as Stormtroopers and killed everyone in here. A blow glanced of my counterpart, as you can see. I’m afraid it fried its circuits. It’s been acting out ever since they locked us in here. And for you to come barging in here like that—just like they did. Well, I’m afraid you didn’t do any favors to its memory banks.”

“It’s alright,” the leader said, motioning to the other two to lower their weapons. “Where were these intruders heading.”

“To the detention block,” Dinadan said as AC-LN continued to buzz and click incoherently. “They intend to rescue a prisoner. They didn’t say which one or mention a name and they wouldn’t let us anywhere near the computers.”

“How were they planning to get off the station,” the Stormtrooper asked.

“They meant to steal another ship,” Dinadan said. “I’m not sure which one. But they spent quite a lot of time on the computer. Perhaps the information is still in there.”

“We’ll check it out,” the Stormtrooper said. “Take your counterpart down to maintenance and get this whole incident dumped from his memory files. See if that fixes things.”

“Of course, sir,” Dinadan said, gently guiding AC-LN toward the lift. “Come on, old friend, let’s get you someplace safe.”

Once they were safely inside the lift and the doors had closed, Dinadan changed his internal lighting from the somber gray that matched the walls of the station to a bright red as what he had just done finally caught up with him.

“What did I do?” he wailed as the light started flickering between red and yellow.

“Lied,” AC-LN said helpfully.

“I lied! I lied and I wasn’t even telling a story! How could I!”

“Protect the plans,” AC-LN said. “Protect me. Protect Morgan and Mordred.”

“Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right,” Dinadan said, forcing himself to calm down as the lift doors opened. The lights inside his casing once again switched to gray.  

“Like acting,” AC-LN said as it rolled out of the lift and through the hanger. Dinadan followed along beside it. AC-LN was the one who had been looking at maps of the station. With no knowledge of his own, Dinadan had no choice but to trust the astromech would take them somewhere safe to wait for the others.

“What?” Dinadan asked.

“Lying—just like acting,” AC-LN said. “You act.”

“I tell stories.”

“This will make a good story.”

Dinadan harrumphed. AC-LN had done nothing to convince him he hadn’t just severely violated his programming. In fact, if AC-LN approved, there was little doubt in Dinadan’s mind that he had just done the wrong thing.

They made their way around the perimeter of the hanger and finally stopped at a small alcove on the opposite side of the command tower. The alcove had a small computer terminal and AC-LN was able to plug into it and reintegrated with the station’s systems.

“Where are the others?” Dinadan asked. “What happened? Were they captured?”

“Not yet,” AC-LN said. “They’re being compacted.” Then it made that noise Dinadan understood to be its laugh.

“What are you on about?” Dinadan asked. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Comlink,” AC-LN said.

“You’re right,” Dinadan said, turning the comlink back on. “That is more sensible than listening to you.”

“—you damn bucket of bolts! Where the hell are you!” Captain Perilous shouted through the comlink. Dinadan started and nearly dropped it.

“Captain, captain I’m here,” Dinanda said.

“Oh! Finally!” Lynette said.

“Ask them if they’re alright,” Dinadan heard Prince Gaheris ask.

“I don’t care,” Lynette snapped. “All that matters is that they’re near a computer. Can you two tin cans turn off the garbage compactors under the detention block?”

Dinadan whacked AC-LN. “That was not a funny joke.”

“Can’t,” AC-LN said.

“Yes you can. I’ve found your jokes to be humorous before.”

“Can’t turn off compactor,” AC-LN said. “Not yet.”

“AC-LN says it can’t turn off the compactor, Captain,” Dinadan said. “At least not yet.”

“If it waits much longer, it’s not going to do us any good!” Lynette yelled.

“Mordred has sword,” AC-LN said. “Can cut out.”

“It says that Mordred has the Caliburn sword and can cut you out.”

“He’s working on that, but it’s slow going. We might not make it. So it would be really helpful if you could just turn off the damn compactor!”

AC-LN buzzed, chirped and whistled. Dinadan nodded along as his internal systems translated the astromech’s long speech. Then he lifted the comlink closer to his mouth so he could translate for Captain Perilous.

“AC-LN says that the base is aware of your location and turned on the compactor to deal with you. If it turns off the compactor now, they will know what it did and swarm both our locations. It will do so to save your life, but recommends you get out of there before it comes to that.”

Gaheris watched as Lynette boiled over with rage as Dinadan explained AC-LN’s plan. It was a good plan. As he had told Lynette earlier, the astromech was good at thinking on its feet. If the Empire thought them dead, they would have an easier time getting off the base. He wished both droids good luck in convincing Lynette of that.

Mordred had nearly finished cutting the third line of the small square that was their way out of here. The compactor was a little more than two thirds of the way closed. Considering the amount of space they had left before the compactor closed over Mordred’s box—let alone started doing irreparable damage—it was going to be a close call.

“Tell them to stop it,” Lynette said, holding out the comlink.

“AC-LN won’t let us die,” Gaheris said.

“I’m far more worried about losing the work the puppy has done,” Lynette said.

“We won’t let that happen either,” Gaheris said as the wall behind him bumped his back. He took a step forward to get out of its way. “But we can’t have Stormtroopers chasing us all the way back to your ship. So just wait.”

Across from him, the other wall bumped against Ax and the dwarf shuffled forward. Gaheris swallowed down the growing knot in his throat. That wall was coming all too close to Mordred’s square. If they wanted to save the work that had already been done, Mordred would either need to finish in the next few seconds or they would have to tell AC-LN to stop the compactor.

“Dred,” Gaheris said as he watched Mordred saw away at the last line of the square. “We need to avoid stopping the compactor.”

“Almost done,” Mordred said.

“We need to tell them to stop,” Lynette said.

“He’s almost got it,” Gaheris said.

“We still need to get four people through there!” Lynette said. The wall bumped Ax again and he took another step. “We need to stop the compactor!”

The wall bumped Ax third time and he was forced to step over Mordred’s legs to get out of the way. The far wall was only inches away from the first line of the square and Gaheris couldn’t tell how close Mordred was to finishing. He drew a breath to give Lynette the okay.

“Got it!” Mordred yelled, pulling the Caliburn blade out of the door. He threw his shoulder into the wall and shouted as he bounced backwards.

“Move!” Ax yelled, pushing Mordred out of the way. Somehow he managed to keep his feet untangled from Mordred’s legs as he lunged forward and slammed his shoulder into the square. It popped out and Ax fell forward into whatever waited for them on the other side.

“Go!” Lynette yelled as the wall began to drift over the newly made square.

Gaheris leaned over to help Mordred up and pushed his cousin through the opening. He went through after him, hissing in pain as the wall scraped against his shoulder. Lynette scooped the blasters up off the floor and dove through last—coming in sideways so her shoulders wouldn’t get stuck in the ever narrowing opening. As it was, the wall took off a piece of her breastplate, leaving a long gash right down the center. Lying on the ground, all four of them watched as the walls of the trash compactor slid over their opening before crashing together with a deafening thump.

For a moment, no one spoke or moved. Finally, Lynette reached it and smacked Gaheris’ shoulder.

“Ow!” he said, drawing away from her and grabbing his upper arm.

“That was for nearly getting us killed,” she said.

“Well, now they think we’re dead, so I stand by AC-LN's plan,” Gaheris said. “We’re better off in the long run for having waited."

“Yeah, Prince Charming to the rescue once again,” Lynette said, getting to her feet. “Come on. We’re too exposed here. Have the droids find us a place to hide out and regroup.”

“You have the comlink,” Mordred said.

Lynette tossed it to him. “Not anymore.”

Morgan paused as she entered the room where the tractor beam’s power terminal was housed. In spite of herself, she was surprised to find the room empty. She had known Ursus wouldn’t be here. She had felt him through the force. He had picked a different location for their confrontation. He hadn’t even sent Stormtroopers to the room to wait for her. In fact, he seemed to have very little interest in what she was doing now.

She could feel him through the force. She felt him reaching out for her. She also felt him reaching out for someone else.

Mordred was her first instinct. It took all her training to keep her panic from rippling out to Ursus when she first felt him turn his attention away from her. The second time was little better. The third time he reached out for someone else, Morgan was able to convince herself it wasn’t Mordred he was looking for. He didn’t know about Mordred—couldn’t know about him. Besides, if Ursus was looking for Mordred, he would have found him with little effort. The fact that Ursus was still looking suggested he couldn’t find his target. The fact that he was still reaching suggested he believed his target to be there despite all evidence to the contrary.

Morgause. He was looking for Morgause.

Moran stepped up to the terminal, quelling her disappointment before it took root. Of course he was looking for Morgause. Of course he saw Morgause as the bigger threat. Hadn’t she always been? Morgause was the one who had stood against him when Morgan had failed. Morgause was the one who had cut him in half. Morgause was the one who had left him to drown. Of course he would fear her involvement.

She wasn’t a threat to him. He was expecting Morgause to swoop in to save her. She could use his fear to her advantage. Like right now—when he was hunting for Morgause while Morgan did as she pleased to his Emperor’s precious space station.

Morgan typed into the terminal—following the instructions Accolon had displayed on the monitor back at the control tower. They were good instructions. Accolon had always understood how her mind worked. He knew how to get her what she needed when she needed it. She had always been rewarded when she put her faith in the little astromech.

Within minutes she had completed Accolon’s instructions and the terminal powered down. For good measure, Morgan walked around the terminal and sliced through the cables and wiring that ran from it into the walls of the space station. Now that the terminal had been properly powered down, no one would notice any power anomalies cut cables tended to cause. And this way no one would be able to simply power it back on if things got difficult when it came time to escape on the Savage Damsel.

Morgan stepped back out into the hallway and began to make her way back towards the hanger. She reached for Ursus again with the force as she went, trying to decide if she wanted to confront him or avoid him. Was it even possible to avoid him? If Morgause was the one he was waiting for, perhaps she would simply be able to slip past? No, of course that wasn’t an option.  He would use a confrontation with her to draw Morgause out. Or at least try. Wasn’t he in for a surprise?

Halfway to her destination, Morgan slowed as felt the presence of two guards around the next turn. She slowed down and as she neared the turn, she heard voices. Reaching the corner, Morgan paused to listen.

“—and keep reporting in regularly,” came the muffed voice of a Stormtrooper.

“Do we have an update yet?” another trooper asked.

“Prisoner escape,” the first said. “Someone tried to break Prince Gaheris out of his cell. Grand Moff Tiberius thinks it was the crew of that ship we pulled in.”

“I thought it had been abandoned,” a third voice said. Or was it the second again?

“We believe the situation to be under control,” the first voice said.

“Captured?” the second voice asked.

“Terminated,” the first said and Morgan brought her hands to her mouth to keep from crying out. She would have felt it if Mordred had died. She didn’t need to reach out to check—couldn’t reach out to check. Not with Ursus trying to use her to find Morgause. He would sense her attempt to reach out to someone else and find the boy. No, Mordred was alive and she did not need to go looking for him.

“Why are we still on high alert?” the third voice asked.

“Lord Ursus believes there may be others. We’re doing a sweep of the whole station. Just stay alert until it’s completed.”

“Yes sir,” two voices chimed. Then there was the sound of footsteps walking away.

Morgan lowered her hands from her mouth and dropped her head against the wall. What a stupid mistake on her part. She hadn’t realized Gaheris was on the station—hadn’t even bothered to check. If she had, she could have ordered Accolon to keep quiet. Gaheris had made his choice. It had been his responsibility to sacrifice himself to protect Mordred. That wasn’t a sacrifice that was supposed to go both ways.

Glancing around the corner, Morgan nudged at the mind of the two remaining Stormtroopers with the force. They didn’t look at her as she strode confidently past them and turned down another hallway.

If Mordred had left the command tower to go after Gaheris, then her hands were tied. There was no way to avoid Ursus now—not without leaving Mordred vulnerable to him. She would have to face him now. And she’d have to do it alone.

Chapter Text

The droids directed them to some sort of supply closet. Once inside, Mordred and Lynette ditched the Stormtrooper uniforms they had been wearing. Their helmets were long gone and, as Lynette had helpfully pointed out, the long gash across the middle of hers was going to catch people’s attention. And even if they could find replacement helmets and a uniform for Gaheris, that still left Ax exposed. Since they could see better and had better maneuverability, the decision was made make their way back to the hanger without.  

“Alright, let’s see it,” Gaheris said when Mordred had finished pulling off the breast plate of the Stormtrooper uniform.

“What?” his cousin asked.

“The dragon,” Gaheris said, motioning to the ripped sleeve of his shirt. His own Dragon was clearly visible thanks to Ursus. Mordred should have already felt the connection between them. Now Gaheris needed to see Mordred’s dragon in order to feel the same connection.

“Seriously?” Mordred asked.

“Yes, seriously,” Gaheris said. “You were a kid the last time I saw you. For all I know you’re just a ploy by the Empire to get me to reveal information about the rebellion.”

“We’ve killed an awful lot of Stormtroopers for very little information,” Lynette said. “So if that was our plan, I’d say we aren’t doing a very good job.”

“Look, I’m 99% sure it’s you,” Gaheris said. “My understanding of your Caliburn sword is that you’re the only one who can use it. But I have to be certain. Please, Dred. Let me see it.”

Shrugging, Mordred pulled off his shirt. Some of the tension in Gaheris’ neck and shoulders eased at the sight of the dragon tattoo on Mordred’s shoulder. Now that he could see it, he could feel the relationship between them. Cousin. Kin.

Drifting away from the dragon, Gaheris’ eyes caught sight of the locket hanging around Mordred’s neck. Frowning, he reached out to touch it with one hand while the other reached for his own locket tucked under his shirt.

“What’s this?” he asked. Technically Mordred wasn’t old enough to have his own locket yet.

“It’s Aunt Morgause’s,” Mordred said and Gaheris jerked away from him.

“You took it?”

“No!” Mordred said quickly. “She left it for me. I swear, Gaheris. She wanted me to have it.”

That rankled just a little. Mordred was only Morgause’s nephew. Gaheris was her son. If she was going to pass her locket on instead of having it burned with her body, it should have gone to him, Gawain or Gareth. Of course, they had all received their own lockets when they left Cornwall for the first time while Mordred still wasn’t old enough to have received one. If his mother wanted to ensure that Mordred would remain connected to his family while fleeing Tintagel, there was no better way to achieve that than giving him her locket. Especially when she and Agravain had been forced to sacrifice their lives to protect him. 

“Okay,” Lynette said. “You saw an ink blot and it’s all been very exciting. Maybe you could go do something useful now instead of standing around dumbfounded.”

Gaheris reached out to squeeze Mordred’s shoulder—so his cousin knew all was well between them. Then he moved out to help Ax search the supply closet they had found themselves in.

They didn’t find any weapons—not surprising. But they did find a several boxes of maintenance tools. Gaheris grabbed one of the belts off the wall and loaded it down with every tool he could fit on there.

“What’s that for?” Lynette asked once he had finished and buckled the belt around his waist.

“I’m a spy,” Gaheris said. “You have your weapons. These are mine.”

“No offense, Prince Charming, but I don’t think your weapons are going to do you much good in the upcoming firefight.”

“Well, we don’t have another blaster, so I guess I’m just going to have to make due,” Gaheris said. His vision blurred at that moment and he reached out to grab the wall in case the dizziness returned as well. “Besides, I’m not sure I’d trust myself with a blaster even if you could find one.”

“This will never work,” Ax said, eyeing the discarded uniforms.

“AC-LN swears up and down that we’re not far from the hanger,” Mordred said. “It’s also confident that it can maneuver us around the Stormtroopers.”

“This really isn’t a decision worth overthinking,” Lynette said. “AC-LN’s confirmed that the Old Lady powered down the tractor beam. Therefore, we need to get back onto the Damsel and out of here. And there’s only one way that’s going to happen.”

She opened the door to the supply closet and stepped out into the hallway. Gaheris closed his eyes, wishing that she had maybe put a little more thought into her plan. Perhaps waited until Mordred got confirmation from AC-LN that their way was clear? Or until Gaheris’ vision had returned to normal? But she was gone now and they had no choice but to follow her.

True to its promise, AC-LN directed them through hallways that were clear of Stormtroopers. Gaheris kept a hand on Mordred’s shoulder the entire time, although his vision gradually cleared as they went. By the time they reached his hanger, his eyesight was back to normal. Or so he thought.

“We’re on the wrong level!” Lynette hissed as she leaned over the railing. Ax grabbed her by her vest and pulled her backwards before the Stromtroopers guarding her ship caught sight of her.

Blinking, Gaheris, looked from the ship to Mordred and back. “Huh, this is weird. When I look at you everything is fine, but when I look at the ship—”

“I dare you to finish that sentence,” Lynette said. Gaheris’ mouth slammed shut as he realized the problem wasn’t with his vision.

“There’s a tactical advantage to her appearance,” Mordred said.

“How about you make yourself useful, puppy, and ask the droids how we’re supposed to get down to their level” Lynette said.

“And around the guards,” Ax muttered.

“Dinadan, come in,” Mordred said.

“Here, sir, although I don’t see you. I thought I would have by now.”

“Yeah, well that’s because we’re above you,” Lynette said, leaning in towards the comlink.

“Above us?” Dinadan asked. Then there was a soft thump. “You dolt! You sent them to the wrong level!” Dinadan paused and Gaheris could just make out AC-LN’s buzzes through the comlink. “No, of course humans can’t fly! Don’t play dumb. You know that.”

“Are we sure the little guy hasn’t been compromised?” Ax asked.

“It has an attitude problem,” Gaheris said. “I knew that when I picked it.”

“Please forgive AC-LN, sir,” Dinadan said. “It says there are two routes from your location to this level. The fastest is the lift down the corridor to the right of the hanger.”

“This way,” Lynette said, heading towards the lift at a brisk pace. Gaheris and Mordred followed her while Ax jogged to keep pace.

“You should not go that way as there is a squadron of Stormtroopers about to turn the corner and you will need to head down the corridor to the left of the hanger as quickly as possible to avoid being seen.”

They all froze as Dinadan finished his warning. Sure enough, Gaheris could hear footsteps marching in their direction.

Lynette recovered first—lifting her blaster and firing as the Stormtroopers came around the corner. She caught the leader right in the chest and he fell backwards into the others as Mordred and Ax started shooting. The Stormtroopers, recognizing an ambush they couldn’t hope to overcome, turned and retreated. With a roar, Ax charged after them.

“Wait!” Gaheris yelled.

“Go left!” Lynette said, pointing back the way they had come. “We’ll catch up with you at the ship.” And then she was gone—rounding the corner after Ax.

“Really? That’s her plan?” Gaheris asked.

“I wouldn’t call it a plan,” Mordred said, grabbing Gaheris’ hand as he ran in the other direction.

Lynette roared along with Ax as the two of them charged headlong into disaster. She fired wildly as she ran—focusing more on keeping the Stormtroopers moving rather than trying to hit any of them. So long as the Stormtroopers were running away, Mordred and Gaheris would be able to get to the ship without any trouble. She knew without a doubt that she and Ax could survive a firefight. She was less certain about the boys.

She passed Ax up almost immediately and within a few paces began pulling away from him. He stopped shooting and a moment later she lost track of the pounding of his boots on the floor. Good old Ax—always on the same page.

The Stormtroopers in front of her disappeared behind a corner and Lynette slowed her pace as she came around it. She wasn’t even surprised to find herself turning into an open atrium where the Stormtroopers had been able to spread out to face her. It’s what she would have done if she had been in their shoes.

Lynette got off one shot before she was forced to dive back around the corner as they all fired on her. Rolling back to her feet, she took off running as fast as her legs would carry her. She turned twice to fire off shots at the Stormtroopers chasing her. Fortunately, Ax came into range before she needed to fire off a third.

The dwarf had positioned himself half inside the lift Dinadan had tried to direct them to, straddling the doorway so that it would close on them. He was leaning out just enough to shoot down any pesky Stormtrooper causing Lynette trouble.

Lynette swung around Ax into the lift and the dwarf shifted all the way in right behind her. One Stormtrooper managed to reach the lift just as the door finished closing and Lynette laughed as the lift began to descend.

“Now that’s how you do it,” Lynette said, bumping her blaster against Ax’s as he grunted in agreement. 

“Dinadan? Where are we going?” Mordred asked as he and Gaheris raced down the corridor.

“Follow the left hand corridor all the way across the bridge,” Dinadan said. “On the other side you will find a stairwell that will take you down to the hanger level.”

“Bridge?” Mordred asked as they ran through a doorway and into an open shaft. He was so busy looking up through the space station that he didn’t notice that this was the bridge Dinadan was talking about. Or wasn’t, as it was.

“Mordred!” Gaheris yelled, yanking back on his arm before he could step off into nothingness. Mordred gasped as he tipped forward enough to see down through the space station. Then Gaheris pulled him back on solid ground.

“Thanks,” Mordred said, leaning back against his cousin.

“Don’t mention it,” Gaheris said, tapping at the comlink.

“Dinadan, there’s no bridge,” Mordred said.

“No what?”

“There’s no bridge. We’re at where it’s supposed to be but it’s retracted or something. Can you fix it?”

“Lockdown procedure,” Dinadan said after a pause. “I’m afraid there’s nothing AC-LN can do to help.”

“What about the lift from earlier?” Gaheris asked. “Can we head back that way without running into any Stormtroopers?”

A shout from behind them provided the answer they needed. Mordred and Gaheris spun around to see a pair of Stormtroopers raising their weapons to fire. The two cousins threw themselves to either side of the platform and pressed themselves up against the walls as blaster shots blew past them. Gaheris spun around and pressed some buttons on the control panel behind him. A door slid down, separating them from the Stormtroopers in the hallway.

“Can you access the bridge controls with that?” Mordred asked.

Gaheris shook his head as he started pressing buttons in a seemingly random order. “The security lockdown Dinadan mentioned means any function beyond shutting the door is going to require an access code and…yup. That identity is burned. I can’t even lock the door.”

Mordred’s eyes widened as the door started to lift up off the ground. Without thinking he dropped his blaster and pulled the Caliburn sword from his belt. The blade appeared as he swung it above his head and drove it through the door at an angle and into the wall. The door jerked to a stop a few inches off the ground—held in place by the strength of the Caliburn blade.

“That’ll work,” Gaheris said as he started pulling tools off his belt.

“Until they come around from the other side,” Mordred said. “We’re sitting ducks without a way to control the bridge.”

“And we have one,” Gaheris said. He had used his tools to pry off the front of the control panel and looked over the wiring inside. “It’s just going to take a little time.”

Morgan slid around a corner as a squadron of Stormtroopers went running past her. The leader was shouting into his radio—something about splitting up and two levels. Morgan rolled her eyes, cursing her decision to leave those willful children to their own devices. Why couldn’t they have just sat tight and waited for her to return? They would have been able to safely escape if they had just waited.

Now hard choices would have to be made and Morgan didn’t know if she had it in her to be as selfless as her sister. 

Sliding back around the corner and continuing down the hallway, Morgan’s pace quickly slowed as she felt him. Ursus. Just one turn beyond where she was standing now. Morgan drew her Caliburn sword from her belt and swung it around so the blade appeared. Pace slow, Morgan turned the final corner and stepped out to face him.

Ursus stood between her and the hanger bay. He was alone—of course he was alone. There was no one who could stand beside him in this. He had forsaken the life of companionship and camaraderie for one of loneliness and servitude.

“Sir Morgan le Fay,” Ursus said. “Knight of Avalon. Last of the Order.”

“Darth Ursus,” Morgan said. “Emperor’s dog. One pawn of hundreds on a chess board he can’t possibly understand.”

“That would be you, Morgan,” Ursus said. “We both know that’s far more the Lady’s way than the Emperor’s. It must be awfully lonely on your side of the board. There’s you—a lonely pawn. There’s the Lady herself—holed up in Avalon unable to defend herself much like the king. So tell me, Morgan. Where is the queen?”

“You didn’t feel it?” Morgan asked. “Morgause is dead. Killed in Tintagel days ago by your own Stormtroopers.”

Ursus’ human eye narrowed. “Impossible. Lowly Stormtroopers have never been able to harm the Queen of Air and Darkness before. They have not become so competent to do so now unless—”

“Unless she wanted it,” Morgan said. “Morgause chose her path years ago. There wasn’t a sacrifice she wouldn’t make to stop you.”

“The plans,” Ursus said. “I knew she had a hand in that.”

“Oh, Ursus, you think so small,” Morgan said. The human half of his face frowned at her. Morgan used his momentary distraction to grab him with the force and toss him across the hallway. She stepped around him as he crashed into the wall behind her. Now she stood between him and the hanger.

“Although,” Morgan said as he got back to his feet and pulled his Caliburn sword from his belt. “All things considered, I supposed I should be grateful you’re even thinking at all.”

Ursus yelled and rushed her—swinging his Caliburn sword above his head. Morgan shifted backwards and lifted her own Caliburn Sword to defend herself. 

Chapter Text

This access panel was different from the ones Gaheris had trained on. These were color coded while he’d learned to differentiate them by their texture and size. With the way his vision was blurring in and out, he’d thought he’d have no problem extending the bridge. How wrong he’d been.

“Any idea on how much longer?” Mordred asked as Gaheris cut through another pair of wires just so he could feel what was beneath the color bands.

“I just started,” Gaheris said.

“It’s not going to take them long to go around,” Mordred said.

“It’ll take longer than you think,” Gaheris said as his fingers brushed against the magic combination of size and texture he was looking for. That was the wiring for a correct access code. Now he just needed to find the bridge wire and match them up.

“Not so much,” Mordred said, stepping forward and lifting his blaster. There was yelling from somewhere above them followed by blaster shots. Gaheris shouted as one nearly hit him and tried to shuffle in closer to the wall. He didn’t dare look up to see what was going on. His vision was only a little blurry and he worried that quick, panicked glances between something up close and something far away would only make things worse.

“Gaheris!” Mordred yelled. He was more exposed to the shots coming from above them than Gaheris was. A falling scream suggested that Mordred was doing more damage than the Stormtroopers, but that wasn’t going to last forever.

“Those didn’t come around—they just got lucky,” Gaheris said. There was only one set of wires in the access panel Gaheris was completely unfamiliar with. Taking a chance, he crossed that with the access wire. There was a hum beneath them as the bridge stretched out over the shaft from both the platform they were standing on and the one across from.

“Good job!” Mordred said, reaching back for his Caliburn sword.

“No, wait!” Gaheris said, his eyes on the bridge.

A blaster shot hit the ground right in front of Mordred’s feet. Gaheris heard his cousin swear before returning fire. “What do you mean wait!”

“Just another second…” Gaheris whispered as the two parts of the bridge continued to stretch out towards each other. “Get ready.”

Firing wildly at the Stormtroopers above them with one hand, Mordred reached back for the Caliburn sword with the other.

“Go!” Gaheris yelled when the two bridge pieces were a little more than a foot apart. Mordred pulled the Caliburn sword out of the wall as Gaheris separated the two wires. Then the two cousins were running across the bridge as the two pieces began to retract away from each other. Gaheris went first with Mordred coming about two steps behind him. Mordred was using the Caliburn blade to deflect the blasts coming from above them and, after the door finally opened, behind.

The gap between the bridges had widened to a couple feet by the time Gaheris reached it. He didn’t even hesitate. He leapt off the bridge and left his momentum carry him over the gap. His landing was rough but he managed to keep his feet under him. Gaheris turned as Mordred made the jump and landed right behind him. Then they were on the other platform and through the door out of the shaft. Gaheris used the access panel to shut the door behind him and Mordred shot it out for good measure.

The stairs were right where Dinadan said they would be. Having returned the Caliburn sword to his belt, Mordred went first, blaster raised. But no one came up the stairs before them or down behind them. They found themselves on the lower level with their way to the hanger clear. Turning down a small hallway that led right to it, they found themselves face to face with Lynette’s blaster.

“Finally,” she said softly, lowering the weapon. “What happened to you?”

“AC’s sense of humor,” Mordred said.

“How’d you get here so fast?” Gaheris asked.

“We took the lift,” Ax said. He was crouched down near the entrance to the hanger. From the way Lynette was standing, neither Gaheris nor Mordred bothered making an attempt to approach him.

“More Stormtroopers?” Gaheris asked.

“Damn hanger is crawling with them,” Lynette said. “They don’t need to chase us anymore, they just need to wait us out. They know we’ll go for the ship eventually.”

“Dinadan,” Mordred said into the comlink. “What’s your status?”

“Same as ever, sir,” Dinadan said. “We still don’t see you.”

“Well, we’re on the same level now and just outside the hanger,” Mordred said.

“Do you have a plan for getting around the Stormtroopers?” Dinadan asked.

“Not yet,” Mordred said.

“Ask them if they’ve heard from the old lady,” Lynette said. “If we can meet up with her, maybe we can just walk back onto the ship.”

“Is there any news on Aunt Morgan?”

There was a pause as Dinadan relayed the question to AC-LN. “She hasn’t been captured. AC-LN is certain of that much. I’m afraid there’s been nothing since she disabled the tractor beam.”

“And of course she doesn’t have a comlink so we have no way of finding her,” Lynette muttered.

“Hey!” Ax hissed, waving them over.

Crouching low to the ground, they joined Ax at the end of the hallway and peered into the hanger. The Stormtroopers who had been guarding the ship had abandoned their post and we’re making their way to one side of the hanger.

“Dinadan, have you been made?” Mordred asked.

“No, sir. They’re moving away from us.”

“It’s a trap,” Gaheris said.

“Does it matter?” Lynette asked. “We’ve gotta make a run for the ship eventually. Trap or not, this is the best shot we’re going to get.”

Ax, apparently, was uninterested in any further debate regarding this decision. He stepped out into the hanger and headed towards the ship. He looked in the direction the Stromtroopers had gone and then waved them towards the ship. That was all the encouragement Lynette needed and she went after him. Gaheris and Mordred were left with the decision to stay in the hallway or go after them—which really wasn’t much of a decision at all.

“Dinadan, we’re going for the ship,” Mordred said into the comlink as he and Gaheris stepped out into the hanger. “Are you able to do the same?”

“We are sir.”

Once out in the hanger, Gaheris couldn’t help but look in the direction the Stormtroopers had gone. What he saw caused him to slow to a halt, his mouth falling open. Beside him, Mordred stopped as well and grabbed Gaheris’ arm to steady him. Only then did he turn to look at the Stormtroopers. What he saw caused him to visibly droop—as though he had been expecting something this awful.

Across the hanger was Aunt Morgan and her Caliburn blade was locked in a duel with Darth Ursus himself.

He had gotten sloppy over the years. Perhaps it was the robotic half of his body that was giving him trouble. Or maybe, in his arrogance, he had simply believed no one would ever challenge him this way again and had stopped training.

Morgan had never stopped training. Her body had aged, as all bodies did, but she had worked her hardest to stay in peak physical condition over the years. And now all that training was paying off. She couldn’t beat him. Even with all his new failings, he still far outpaced her. Fortunately, she didn’t need to beat him. She just needed to outlast him.

With Ursus’ mind a haze of battle rage, Morgan was able to reach out freely and look for Mordred. She found him just outside the hanger. A hanger crowded with Stormtroopers just waiting for the infiltrators to show themselves. Well, if nothing else she could take care of that.

Reaching out through the force, Morgan ensnared each and every Stormtrooper in the hanger and pulled them towards her duel with Ursus. It wasn’t hard. They had all been sneaking glances ever since the fight had started. They wanted to wander away from their post and watch unhindered. It didn’t take much more than a nudge. Now that way was clear and Mordred could get off the space station and away from here before anyone had a chance to realize just what he was and what his existence meant.

Ursus felt her attention shift to the Stormtroopers and his mind barreled down on hers as he swung wildly at her head. Morgan met his blade with her own and the two swords scrapped against each other as Ursus tried to overpower her with nothing more than his strength and height.

Something flickered in her mind and Morgan gasped as she recognized the feel of Mordred. He was using the force—trying to get her attention. He had it. He had Ursus’ attention as well.

Ursus turned and looked into the hanger. He was staring at Mordred, dumbfounded. And was that…was that recognition she was seeing on his human features? Could it really be that simple? Had they finally reached the end?

Then the human half of his face twisted into a sneer. Morgan could feel fury and rage building up around him as he prepared for a precise strike against Mordred through the force. Morgan pivoted so she was standing right in front of him and drove her Caliburn sword into his chest. Ursus shifted so her blade only caught his robotic half. Then he swung his own sword around and sliced it through her upper body.

Mordred could only stare in awe as Aunt Morgan fought off the half-robotic man. She was so quick—so graceful. She blocked and deflected with ease as the half-robotic man violently hacked away at her. Mordred flinched as the two Caliburn blades crashed against each other with enough force to send a loud clang echoing through the hanger.

“Boys,” Lynette said softly, stepping up behind them. Mordred turned argue with her—afraid she was going to say that they should go while the Stormtroopers were distracted. To his surprise, she instead pressed a blaster into Gaheris’ hand.

“Ax has started on the lightspeed calculations and the droids are aboard,” Lynette said. “Assuming they’re right and the old lady managed to turn off the tractor beam, we should be able to make the jump to lightspeed as soon as we clear atmosphere.”

“We can’t leave yet,” Mordred said, looking back at Aunt Morgan and the half-robotic man.

“If we start shooting, do you think we can clear enough of them away to make a path for her?” Lynette asked, lifting up her blaster up and taking aim at the backs of the Stormtroopers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mordred saw Gaheris shake his head. “It’s Ursus.”

Ursus. Aunt Morgan’s old student. The one who had turned against the Knights of Avalon. The one Aunt Morgan believed she had failed in his training. The one she feared Mordred would turn out like if he followed Aunt Morgause’s tricks.

“We have to try,” Mordred said.

“Can you use that force thing to get her attention?” Lynette asked. “We need her to be on the move when we start shooting.”

“I’ll try,” Mordred said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was a vessel to the power of the force. He was one with the darkness and open to the power coursing through him. Desperate for this to work, Mordred thought he felt something similar to what he had felt when he had tried Aunt Morgause’s trick—just not on so grand a scale. He thought of Aunt Morgan—not just of what she meant to him, but to the rebellion and the Knights of Avalon as well. He thought of her as part of the whole—a small but significant thread in a larger pattern. Then, with the power coursing through him, he reached out into that larger pattern and nudged at her.

He opened his eyes and saw her start. For a second he thought it had worked, but he received no response from her in return. Instead, it was Ursus who slowly turned to look at him.

Gaheris made a soft, pained sound. Mordred was aware of him taking a step backwards as Lynette moved in front of him. Her blaster was still raised and through the force Mordred could feel her finger shaking on the trigger. He could feel Gaheris’ fear at having to face the man who had tortured him and stood by while his planet was destroyed. He could feel the complacency of the Stormtroopers and Aunt Morgan’s power wrapped around their minds.

But most of all he could feel Ursus. He could feel Ursus poking and prodding at him with the force. He could feel the other man’s confusion because Mordred was both familiar to him and foreign. Most of all, he could feel Ursus’ fear. Fear of Morgause. Fear that Mordred was somehow Morgause. And then all he felt was the rage, building and swirling up around Ursus.   

Aunt Morgan swung around so she was standing between Mordred and Ursus. She lunged forward and stabbed Ursus in the chest. He shifted right before Aunt Morgan stabbed him, but otherwise didn’t react to her Caliburn blade sliding right through him. Then he lifted his own blade and drove it down into her shoulder.  

“No!” Gaheris yelled as Ursus’ sword cut all the way down into Aunt Morgan’s chest. A strangled cry escaped his own lips although he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of what had just happened. There was barely any blood. Aunt Morgan said the Caliburn blades couldn’t kill and Ursus certainly didn’t seem hurt by what she had done to him. But how could someone possibly survive such a wound?

Next to him, Lynette fired. She took out two Stormtroopers before the rest turned and began returning fire. Gaheris started shooting as well as the two of them drifted backwards into the cover the Damsel provided.

Mordred remained where he was, frozen in place. Across the hanger, Ursus pulled his Caliburn sword out of Aunt Morgan and let her drop to the ground. She wasn’t dead—Mordred could see her withering on the ground and feel her reaching out to him with the force. He just couldn’t react to any of it because Ursus was staring at him again. He could feel that same rage building around the other man and knew that this time no one was going to stop Ursus from unleashing it.

The rage came at him like a towering wave. Mordred took a step backwards, suddenly terrified of what would happen if it hit him. He would drown in it. When it hit him, it would kill him as swiftly as being pulled underwater.

Morgan had been on the receiving end of a wound from a Caliburn blade before. She knew the pain the accompanied even the tiniest cut. This was an order of magnitude beyond what she had ever experienced. She could feel exactly where one of her lungs had been cut in half. The wound burned like fire and yet the organ kept merrily pumping oxygen to the rest of her body as if the wound didn’t exist. Such was the power of the Caliburn blades. It was how Ursus had survived what Morgause had done to him.

Reaching out with the force, she tried to catch Mordred’s attention—tried to force him to run. There was nothing he could do for her now. Not with a squadron of armed Stormtroopers between her and him. Not with Ursus’ attention on him.

Ursus. When Mordred didn’t listen to her, Morgan tried to get into his mind so she could force him to stop. She couldn’t get past the anger building up around him. He was going to strike out at Mordred with the force. He was going to kill the boy.

“No…no…” Morgan wheezed, trying to reach up to Ursus. She had to stop him. She had to use whatever strength she had left to keep him from doing this.

Ursus let his rage go. It crashed towards Mordred with a ferocity that stilled even the Stormtroopers. Morgan screamed—unable to believe that this was how it would end. Mordred’s eyes were wide with fear and she could feel him surrendering to his own demise. She could feel him come to a sense of peace at the prospect of being reunited with Morgause and Agravain.

And then it stopped. The Ursus’ rage dissipated halfway across the hanger. It was as though he had never built it up in the first place. Not a whiff of it lingered along the force. Morgan gasped, unable to believe what she just seen and her nose was assaulted by the sudden and overpowering smell of spices in the air.

Ursus yelled as he swung at Morgause. He could feel her standing behind him. She thought she was being so clever with her lies and obfuscation. But he had known she would show herself if he went after the boy. The dark haired one meant something to her—he had felt her power radiating protectively around him. She’d let Morgan fall without a second thought to protect herself but she would risk everything to save the boy.

His sword glided through air and Ursus froze, unable to believe it. He had felt her—could still feel her. She was right there. His sword should have hit her. He should have dealt her a blow as damaging as the one she had given him.

“Behold the wicked day of destiny,” Morgan groaned from her place on the floor. “Where father and son meet and know each other to be enemies.”

Ursus glanced down at Morgan. What was she talking about? Was this some sort of coded message to Morgause? He took a step away from her and lifted his sword, guarding against an enemy he couldn’t see—couldn’t feel. The smell of spices filled the air and a memory stirred within him. Of Morgause, standing above him as she shoved his head beneath the water. There was the sound of ships from above and then Morgause turned and ran. She’d had him at her mercy and she had run away. Why had she done that? He’d always wondered.

“Morgause,” Morgan said, holding out her hand. “Sister.”

“What’s going on?” Ursus asked. He watched as Morgan reached out towards nothing and her hand seemed to close around another even though there was no one there. Had Morgan been telling the truth? Was Morgause truly dead? Had her ghost come here to finally take her vengeance?

“Yes,” Morgan whispered. “I would like that very much.

“Morgan,” Ursus said and she finally looked at him. “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said. “But aren’t you excited to find out?”

When the wave stopped, there was peace in the hanger. Mordred was aware of Ursus moving, but his focus was on the Stormtroopers. They were left stupefied in the wake of Ursus’ rage. So we’re Lynette and Gaheris. The shooting had stopped and from the way he attacked the air behind him, it appeared that not even Ursus had his wits about him.

“Puppy, get back here,” he heard Lynette say before she broke the momentary truce by shooting another Stormtrooper. That’s all it took to break the spell and the firefight started up again. Mordred darted backwards and joined Lynette and Gaheris under the cover of the ship. This time he joined in the shooting—as had Ax from inside the ship. The Damsel’s laser canons had been engaged and we’re taking out large swaths of Stormtroopers. But there were still too many of them still in the hanger and no doubt more were on their way.

“We have to go!” Gaheris yelled.

“We can’t just leave her!” Mordred said.

“She’s as good as dead—”

“No she’s not! Caliburn blades can’t kill!”

“Less fighting more planning,” Lynette said. “We can’t keep this up much longer.”

Mordred looked past the Stormtroopers to Aunt Morgan. Ursus had moved away from her and she had one arm raised up in the air. Mordred stilled as he studied her. Was that the outline of a person standing above her?

Blue light erupted it from Aunt Morgan’s body. It crackled through the air and blinded Mordred for a moment. He didn’t dare look away. He wanted to see what was happening at the center of that light. He wanted to know if he had truly seen a person standing above Aunt Morgan. Was it… was that even possible?

He couldn’t see anything at the center of the light. It was too bright and cast no shadows in the center. When it finally cleared, Aunt Morgan was gone and Ursus was cowering on the ground. Mordred blinked and his eyes darted back and forth along the hanger as he looked for some sign of her. Nothing. She was just…gone.

“What happened?” Lynette asked. “Where she go?”

Mordred could smell spices and the sensation of a warm breeze against the side of his face.

“Run, Mordred,” he heard Aunt Morgause whisper in his ear. “She’s gone home and you’re needed elsewhere.”

“Get on the ship!” Mordred yelled as Ursus stumbled back to his feet and turned back towards them. Gaheris started up the gangplank, but Lynette remained firmly in place.

“What happened to helping her?” Lynette snapped.

“We can’t anymore,” Mordred said, giving her a small nudge with his shoulder.

Lynette didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and raced up the gangplank, Mordred following a step behind her.

“Ax, get us out of here!” Lynette shouted as she entered the hallways of the Damsel and made right for the cockpit. Mordred stopped at the top of the gangplank and used the control panel to close it. Gaheris covered him as the gangplank lifted up off the ground and closed up against the ship. Beneath them, the Damsel hummed to life and rose up into the air.

Sighing in relief, Mordred tried to lean against the wall only to have Gaheris pull him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around his cousin, suddenly overwhelmed by the simple gesture. They had lost another one. Despite his best efforts, another member of his family was dead.

“Did you smell spices in the hanger?” Gaheris asked and Mordred nodded against his shoulder. “Do you think that was mom? Do you think she was telling us to wait?”

“No,” Mordred said, his mind on the whispers in his ear. “I think she was telling us to go.”

Chapter Text

Lynette reached the cockpit right as the Damsel began to lift up off the ground. She dropped into the pilot’s chair and started a systems check. She’d been away from the Damsel for a long time—there was no telling what the Empire had done to her ship.

“How are those lightspeed calculations coming?” Lynette asked, glancing up in time to see them flying out of the hanger. When they weren’t immediately pulled back into space station by the tractor beam, she let out the breath she had been holding. It was one thing for the droids to promise that the Old Lady had gotten the job done. It was another thing to see it in action.

“They’re not,” Ax said. “It took a lot more effort to get you out of there than I would have liked.”

“Me too” Lynette said as one of the alarms on the console started blaring.

“Sentry ships,” Ax said.

“Just so I understand—we’re not going to be jumping to hyperspace anytime soon?”

“We’re not going to be jumping to hyperspace at all at this rate.”

“Fantastic,” Lynette said, pressing some buttons and flipping some switches on her console before getting to her feet. “Shields are a maximum and I’ve got the deflector angled to protect our engines. Can you keep us from dying while I get to the quad canons?”

“Wait, wait!” Ax said. “We need two people to pilot this ship! One to fly her and one to run the lightspeed calculations!”

“Yeah, Ax, I got that!” Lynette yelled as she ran from the cockpit. Mordred and Gaheris were nowhere to be seen and Lynette cursed as she raced through the halls of the Damsel to the gangplank. She would have thought they’d at least be halfway to the cockpit by now. Hell, the droids were nearly there while Mordred and Gaheris were still standing by the gangplank, holding each other as if their lives depended on it.

“Hey, boys!” Lynette said and they stepped apart and turned to face her. “I hate to break up the moment, but we’ve still got work to do. Puppy, I need your help with the quad cannons. Prince Charming, head to the cockpit and help Ax—”

“Wait,” Gaheris said and Lynette’s hands curled into fists. She was going to hit the next person who questioned her plans. “I actually have gunnery experience. Mordred doesn’t.”

“You also can’t see half the time,” Lynette said. “Thanks, but I’ll take inexperience over accidentally shooting the ship. Besides, of the two of you, I figure you’re the one more qualified to run a lightspeed calculation while Ax flies the ship.”

“You’re right. I can do that. Where are we headed?”

“Ah…the rebellion?” Lynette asked, unable to believe he was asking and not telling.

Gaheris’ mouth fell open. “I don’t know where that is?”

“What?” Lynette yelled as Mordred drew in a sharp breath.

“Aunt Morgan was the only one who knew where they are,” he said softly.

They all stared at each other as that realization sunk in. Then a blast rocked the ship and they were all thrown into the wall.

“Okay,” Lynette said, pushing herself upright. “Just get us into hyperspace. We’ll course correct later.”

Gaheris nodded. “The cockpit?”

“Straight down that hallway,” Lynette said, pointing the way she had come. “The droids will direct you from the mess.”

Gaheris ran down the hall as Lynette grabbed Mordred by the arm and pulled him in the other direction. He was looking nervous by the time they finally reached the gunnery. Lynette didn’t give him a chance to think twice about what he was about to do—nudging him down the ladder and into the chair behind the lower canon’s controls.

“You remember what we talked about?” Lynette asked from her place on the ladder. She’d taught him the basics of all the controls on the Damsel during their trip to Lothian. He hadn’t had a chance to fire the canons—but in theory he knew how they worked.

“The simulated sounds through the radio offer better targeting information than the computer—but don’t trust what your eyes see over what the computer tells you. Let the chair and guns move with the ship—don’t try to fight her.”

“Good,” Lynette said. “You’re a good shot, puppy. You’re going to be just fine.”

Mordred nodded and Lynette didn’t give him a chance to ask any further questions. She ascended up the ladder into the upper pod and sat down in the chair behind the canon’s controls.  

 “Ax, you with me?” Lynette asked, as she finished pulling on the radio headset.

“Aye, Lass,” Ax said. “We’ve got two coming around for another sweep.”

“I see them,” Lynette said, making a few adjustments to her targeting computer. More personal preference than anything else. “What about you, puppy? You see them?”

“I do,” Mordred said. He still sounded shaky.

“Ax, I want a heads up the minute more fighters are dispatched,” Lynette said. She hoped they would be long gone before reinforcements arrived, but she wasn’t counting on it.

The simulated sounds of the sentry ships roared in her ears as Ax swung the ship around to avoid a laser blast.

“Anytime you want to start firing, lass!” Ax yelled.

“How about you stop playing chicken and actually give me something to shoot!”

“Oh, you asked for it,” she heard Ax grumble.

“Pretty sure she’s the only one who did,” she heard Gaheris say over the radio. “No!”

Lynette grinned as Ax spun the ship around and put them on a collision course with one of the fighters. She swung her seat around with the motions of the Damsel and her targeting computer beeped as the fighter ended up dead in her sights

She fired before the ship could recover from Ax’s suicidal maneuver. The cannon blast hit the fighter head on and blew it apart. Over the radio, Lynette could hear another fighter swung towards them. She spun her chair around, already knowing it was too late and she would never be able to hit the fighter before it did damage to the Damsel.

A blast from the other canon hit the fighter on one of its wings and send it spiraling away from the Damsel. Mordred followed it past the ship and a second shot blew it apart.

“Thataway puppy!” Lynette yelled.

“Heads up!” Ax yelled over the radio. “The other two are coming around!”

“What about the reinforcements?” Lynette asked.

“I promise lass, when they show up I will tell you!” Ax snapped.

Lynette shook her head. That wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right. They should have sent reinforcements after them by now. They should have been facing a squadron of fighters instead of just the remaining two sentries. So where were the rest? Why hadn’t any other fighters been sent out yet?

The two remaining fighters flew around the Damsel firing all the way. Lynette swung her chair around—trying to get her targeting computer to lock onto the two fighters. They were moving too fast and she couldn’t catch up with them. Mordred had a little better luck. He must have seen something in his targeting computer as he fired off two shots after the fighters. Both came close and the second even managed to clip one of the wings of the fighter. But the damage was superficial and didn’t even jostle the damn thing off course.

Meanwhile, the fighters had managed to a fair amount of damage to the Damsel. Lynette was sent bouncing in her chair as one of the blasts hit something sensitive. Ax swore loudly over the radio and Lynette could just make out Mordred cursing softly underneath him.

“Please tell me that didn’t hit anything important,” Lynette said.

“No, not important,” Ax said. When he next spoke, his voice was louder but sounded farther away. “Hey, you deadweights! How about you make yourselves useful and put out that fire!”

“Enough of this,” Lynette growled as she swung her chair around. “Come on, girl. Time to show them what you can do.”

Her targeting computer managed to lock on one of the fighters. Lynette followed it around her ship—firing at it as it continued to flit in and out range on her targeting computer. She finally managed to hit the underside and the fighter spun away from her and towards the Damsel. The other canon spun around and blew apart the fighter before it could hit the ship.

“Just the one left,” Ax said.

“Almost done with the lightspeed calculations!” Gaheris said as another blast rocked the ship. “Just a few more seconds!”

Shots fired from the other canon—Mordred had the remaining fighter in his sights. Lynette turned her chair slowly. She kept an eye on the fighter while not making any effort to keep up with it.

Mordred fired two more blasts and both glanced off the hull of the ship in quick enough succession that it was thrown off course. Lynette jerked her chair the few inches she needed to get her targeting computer to lock on the ship. She fired and the final fighter blew apart right as the Damsel shot forward into hyperspace.

Gasping, Mordred dropped back into his chair. He could hear Gaheris and Ax cheering. For his part, Mordred could barely get his hands to stop shaking. He had never done anything like that before and he’d been so terrified that he’d prove Lynette’s faith in him misplaced. That they would all find themselves wishing that Gaheris had gone down to the gunnery instead. But he had done it. He’d made it through to the other side and had taken two of the Empire’s fighters with him. One he’d even managed to take down on his own.

“NO!” Lynette roared from above him.

Mordred started and turned in his chair in time to see her sliding down the ladder and disappearing into the hallway of the ship. He scrambled to his feet and promptly fell into the wall. His legs had turned to jelly underneath him. He needed to hold onto the wall for support as he walked and by the time he reached the ladder he wasn’t at all confident in his ability to climb it.

Fortunately, Gaheris was waiting for him at the top of the ladder, meaning there was no reason for him to even try.

“What’s going on?” Mordred asked, leaning up against the wall.

Gaheris hesitated. “That was too easy.” Mordred made a pained noise and Gaheris almost smiled. “They should have sent reinforcements out after us. You may have noticed that Lynette was more worried about that than the fighters trying to destroy her ship. That we only faced the four sentries isn’t—”

He stopped as Lynette screamed from somewhere deep within the ship.

“—good.”

Mordred scrambled up the ladder—grateful that his legs finally seemed willing to carry him. He reached the top right as Ax ran past them. Together Mordred and Gaheris followed the dwarf down into the engine room. Lynette was pacing back and forth in front of an open wall panel. There was a device attached to the exposed wiring. Ax cursed at the sight of it as Gaheris slowed to a stop and brought his hands to his mouth.

“What?” Mordred asked. “What is it?”

“It’s a tracker,” Lynette said, kicking her foot against the ground. “They’re tracking us.”

The surviving Stormtroopers had mostly cleared out of the hanger when Tiberius finally arrived. Ursus shied away from him as the Grand Moff made a quiet sweep of the hanger. He stayed close to the corridor where Sir Morgan le Fay had fallen. Her body was gone, as was her Caliburn blade. No sign of her. No sign of Morgause. It was as if they had never been here.

Has he imagined the encounter? Had he imagined Morgan’s presence on the Death Star? And Morgause? He had never seen her, but he had felt her so keenly. She had been here. They both had. Right? He wasn’t seeing things. He wasn’t losing time. That encounter had happened as he had experienced it.

“Well,” Tiberius said, finally making his way over to Ursus. “It seems that you are once again proven right. I do regret my actions. I regret them quite a lot.”

Ursus could only stare at Tiberius. He didn’t know what to do—didn’t know what had happened. How was he supposed to speak to the Grand Moff when he didn’t even know what he had or hadn’t done?

“At least you fared better,” Tiberius continued. “The Stormtroopers tell me that you killed Morgan le Fay. Well done. At least that’s one less thing we’ll have to worry about now that the rebellion has the plans.”

“She was here?” Ursus asked.

Tiberius frowned. “Of course she was here. You were the one who sensed her. The Stormtroopers saw you deliver the killing blow.”

“There’s no body,” Ursus said. “And Caliburn blades can’t kill.”

“You think she escaped with the others?”

“I don’t know. It got so muddled…”

“Well, this was a day wasted,” Tiberius scoffed. “Prince Gaheris escaped and we have now lost the plans once and for all. I don’t fancy our chances at catching them a second time. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need to go find out who ordered the fighters to stand down so I—”

“That was me,” Ursus said. The fog began to clear and he could focus again. His encounter with Morgan may have been a muddled mess, but he clearly remembered the orders he had given before he had stepped into the corridor to wait for her. 

“You? Whatever for?”

“I had a tracker installed on their ship,” Ursus said. Tiberius’ eyes went wide and his lips curled up into a smile. “They’ll lead us to the rebellion and this space station can finish them off once and for all.” 

And Morgan and Morgause, if they had escaped on the ship, would not be able to evade him for much longer.

Chapter Text

There had never been a more morose group of people than the organic occupants of the Savage Damsel. The droids seemed chipper enough—both of them were sitting at the table at the mess playing one of the holo games. Ax was also seated at the table—but he was sitting sideways so he could look out into the mess with his legs hanging over the edge of the booth. Mordred and Gaheris were sitting on the floor—leaning against the wall so they could give Lynette plenty of room to pace around the mess.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Dinadan said as he moved one of his pieces across the board. “Why don’t you simply deactivate the tracker?”

“Because it’s wired into the ship,” Lynette said as she spun around on her heels. “We can’t turn it off without turning off the ship and if we try to detach it from the wiring while the ship is on, we’ll probably blow up.”

“We will blow up,” Ax said. “There’s no probably about it. Not with the way that tracker has been wired directly into the engine.”

“How long will it take to remove it?” Mordred asked.

“Just the four of us—”

“Six,” Dinadan said as AC-LN buzzed in annoyance.

“—and the tools we have on board? A day. If we’re lucky.”

“We won’t have a day,” Gaheris said. “Half a day, maybe, before the Death Star catches up with us.”

“Catchy name,” Ax muttered.

“We could buy more time by landing on a moon,” Lynette muttered to herself. “That station is big enough it would have to go into orbit to get around a planet if we were on the dark side.”

“That’s a big risk. If they don’t feel like waiting to complete their orbit, they could just destroy the planet,” Gaheris said.

“It would have to be a gas giant,” Lynette said. “They destroy one of those they risk damaging their sensors and being unable to fire again. Too much of a risk when the moon will be blown out of orbit. But still it’s only a couple hours. Not nearly enough time…”

“Can’t we get outside help?” Mordred asked. “Hire someone to remove the tracker?”

Lynette shook her head. “We’ve got two thousand credits.”

“All you have is the money we gave you?” Mordred asked in disbelief.

“On the outer worlds it might be enough to buy us the time and labor we need. But they’re going to take one look at that tracker and know we’re worth checking for a bounty. With the Empire already on our tail, we’ll be dead in the water.”

“What about inner worlds?” Ax asked, looking at Gaheris.

“Strathclyde,” Mordred said. “Aunt Morgan was going to take us there. We may still be able to find someone to help us.”

“No,” Gaheris said, shaking his head. “No, we can’t land. Anywhere. They have the power to destroy a planet. They’re tracking us because they believe one of you can lead them to the rebellion. Anywhere we land we put at risk. They’ll assume it’s the rebellion and they’ll destroy it.”

“We can’t just fly forever!” Lynette yelled, rounding on him. Gaheris closed his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall. Breathing hard, Lynette ran her hands through her hair and turned away from them.

They were at an impasse. They couldn’t fly forever and they also couldn’t land. They were stuck in hyperspace unless they could figure something out.

“What about the rebellion?” Mordred asked. “Is there a way to contact them? Or could you reach out to someone who could contact them for us? Maybe we could meet them in an abandoned system. They could remove the tracker and we won’t have to worry about the next world the Empire destroys.”

Gaheris groaned and squeezed his tight, trying to think. Back at the table, AC-LN chirped and buzzed.

“AC-LN has a radiofrequency for the rebellion and Morgan le Fay’s access codes,” Dinadan said.

“It what?” Lynette yelled as everyone turned to look at the droids.

“Has a radiofrequency for the rebellion and Morgan le Fay’s access codes,” Dinadan said. “Morgan le Fay entrusted this information to AC before we left Cornwall.”

“What didn’t you tell us before?” Mordred asked as he and Gaheris scrambled to their feet. AC-LN chirped.

“You didn’t ask,” Dinadan said.

“I didn’t ask!” Lynette sputtered.

“Can you use the old lady’s access code to contact the rebellion?” Ax asked. “Or will they lock you out?”

“They’ll lock me out, but Mordred may be able to get through,” Gaheris said. “And unfortunately, we don’t lose anything by trying.”

They made their way back to the cockpit and AC-LN plugged into the ship’s main computer. Ax, Lynette, Gaheris, and Dinadan all sat in their chairs while Mordred stood in front of the radio.

“It’s going to be static until AC-LN is able to get through,” Gaheris said softly. “They won’t answer. Instead the static will turn to silence. When that happens, just start talking. Talk until it turns back to static or they answer you. Okay?”

Mordred nodded and swallowed. His mouth suddenly dry. He could do this. He could get them out of this mess and he wouldn’t even need to shoot anyone to do it. All he had to do was talk.

The cockpit became quiet as the static tapered off. Drawing in a shaky breath, Mordred leaned in and started talking.

“Hello,” he said and next to him Gaheris made a pained noise. “Please don’t disconnect. I know I’m not who you were expecting. My name is Mordred Pendragon. Morgan le Fay is my aunt and I know you were trying to contact her. I know you wanted her to bring me and some stolen plans to your base. I just…everything went wrong. Aunt Morgan’s dead and I’m stranded in space. Please. I’m trying to get to you and I don’t know how. Please. I need your help.”

Mordred stopped there and looked at Gaheris, who was frantically shaking his head. Mordred opened his mouth to say more but he didn’t know what. He didn’t even know who he was taking to on the other end. How was he supposed to convince silence that he was who he said? That they should trust his word and nothing else?

“How did le Fay die?” a deep voice asked.

“Gawain!” Gaheris said and then he clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Gawain?” Mordred repeated in disbelief. That hadn’t sounded anything like Gawain. At least, not the way he remembered Gawain. Gaheris shook his head and motioned to the radio. “Wait! Gawain! Don’t disconnect! I know this sounds bad, but there’s an explanation. I didn’t know there was a ship underneath Tintagel. Neither did Aunt Morgan. We hired a smuggler to take us to Lothian, but when we got there the planet was gone. The ship was captured by the Empire’s new space station but we were able to rescue Gaheris and escape. Aunt Morgan didn’t make it.”

“Mom’s dead, Gawain,” Gaheris said. “So is Agravain. They were killed by Stormtroopers looking for the stolen plans. They sacrificed themselves so Mordred could get to the rebellion. You can’t just turn him away. Not after everything we risked and lost.”

“We have the plans too,” Mordred said.

“He’s right,” Gaheris said. “There could be a way to destroy the Death Star in there. You’ve seen what it can do. Can you really afford to pass this possibility up?”

“I can if you’re lying,” Gawain said. “I can if this is just a ploy to bring the Empire down upon us.”

“It’s not a ploy, but it will definitely do that,” Gaheris said. “We’re being tracked. So if you tell us where you are, you’re going to want an evacuation to be underway by the time we get there.”

There was a pause. A long pause. Mordred fidgeted nervously—worried that Gawain was about to cut them off and leave them to their fate.

“Hold on,” Gawain finally said.

“Hold on?” Lynette seethed. Gaheris cleared his throat but that did nothing to placate her. “No, it’s fine. Take all the time you need. No rush on our end.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Ax said.

“He doesn’t have the authority to give us the coordinates on his own,” Gaheris said. “This is a good sign.”

Lynette sighed and sat back in her chair. Placated for now, but she wouldn’t remain so for long. There was no way to know how long this was going to take. Each minute seemed to drag on and on as they sat in silence and waited. Was this a good sign or a bad one? Mordred desperately wanted to ask Gaheris but he was afraid of what his cousin’s answer would be.

“Prince Gaheris,” came a woman’s voice over the radio.

“Lady Isolde,” Gaheris said, suddenly looking very grim.

“I must admit, I’m surprised to hear from you,” Isolde said.

“Not half as surprised as I am, ma’am. Of that I can assure you.” Gaheris paused and shook his head. “It’s been a…strange day.”

“Then you understand how unconventional it is for you to reach out to us in this way,” Isolde said.

“If there was another option open to me, I can assure you I would have taken it,” Gaheris said. “But as Gawain has no doubt told you, Morgan le Fay, Morgause Luddowc, and my brother Agravain are all dead. We have the Death Star plans but no way to get them to the rebellion. Please, Isolde. I watched them destroy Lothian. Don’t write off what may be our only chance at stopping them. Please don’t let your paranoia and fear lead to another Lothian.”

Mordred could hear Gawain’s voice rumbling softly in the background, but he couldn’t make out what his oldest cousin was saying. Something good, right? Gawain wouldn’t abandon them to this fate.

“How can you ask this of me?” Isolde asked. “You demand blind faith, Gaheris. Surely you understand why I cannot give it.”

“Hang on just a minute,” Lynette said, spinning her chair around. Gaheris shook his head and mouthed ‘no’ at her. Lynette scowled at him. “I know Prince Charming here wants me to sit quietly and let other people decide my fate. But that’s never been my style.”

“Who am I speaking to now?” Isolde asked.

“Captain Lynette Perilous of the Savage Damsel. I was offered good money by Morgan le Fay to take her, Mordred Pendragon, and two droids to Lothian. I suppose I should consider myself lucky that it was destroyed before we got there. Except now I’m not going to get paid and the Empire has slapped a target on my back. The tracker they installed is wired into my ship. I’m going to have to land if I want to remove it, at which point they will catch up to me. When that happens, quite frankly I’m not going to have much in the way of loyalty to a rebellion that failed to protect me when I needed them. What do you think? Will the two boys and the plans buy me and my first mate our freedom?”

Mordred started—surprised to hear Lynette even suggest such a thing. He searched her face looking for some indication that she was bluffing. That she had said what she had in an attempt to force this Isolde’s hand. He didn’t see it. Were things really so desperate? Lynette had stood by them in the heart of the Death Star and had never once seemed to consider turning them in to save herself. Was it because they’d had a way out of that? A plan that, while farfetched, had a chance of working?

There was no plan this time. No way out. If they had to land the ship they’d be completely at the mercy of the Empire.

“You really think threatening me is a good idea?” Isolde asked.

“It’s not a threat, it’s a reality check,” Lynette said. “So you know what this Death Star can do? Big deal. I’ve been up close and personal. I’ve been inside it. Its scale is beyond your wildest imagination. If I was in your shoes, I would use every means at my disposal—make every sacrifice—to get my hands on every single drop of snake oil rumored to hold its weakness. And we have the damn schematics in one of our droids.”

“Plans you are threatening to turn back over to the Empire,” Isolde said. She didn’t sound impressed.

“Well I’m not in your shoes, am I?” Lynette asked. “I’m just a smuggler trying to survive.” 

There was another long silence. Finally Gaheris leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face. “I can’t believe they haven’t disconnected yet,” he muttered.

“I can,” Lynette said. She caught Mordred’s eye and something about his expression must have conveyed his displeasure with her. “Aw, don’t be mad puppy. You’re my very favorite. I won’t let you go unless I absolutely have to.”

“So you were bluffing?” Gaheris asked. He sounded relieved.

“I didn’t say that,” Lynette said.

Mordred and Gaheris exchanged a worried glance. Although at this point Mordred was pretty sure Lynette had been bluffing and now she was just messing with them. Or maybe she honestly didn’t know how she would react when the Empire finally caught up with them. Either way, Mordred couldn’t help but feel a childish pleasure at her promise to look after him over Gaheris.

“I do want to make one thing clear,” Lynette said softly. “If they ask us to transmit the plans to their coordinates, I won’t do it. Either they take us in or we find another way. They don’t get to dump us in the name of the greater good like they dumped you, Prince Charming.”

“They can’t ask,” Gaheris said. “The plans are encrypted in such a way that severely restricts access and portability. It’s why the ground team that obtained the plans couldn’t just walk out with a hard copy. They had to transmit the files to another vessel in the same system as the base and that copy could only be downloaded and uploaded once. Since I already uploaded the plans into AC-LN, they’ll be corrupted beyond repair if we try to upload them into your ship.”

“Lucky us,” Lynette said.

“They also need Mordred, so they probably wouldn’t ask even if they could,” Gaheris said.

“Probably?” Lynette asked. Gaheris didn’t answer, which made Mordred think he wasn’t as confident about that as he was trying to sound.

“Prince Gaheris,” a new voice said over the radio. This one was also a woman and she sounded like she was on the verge of crying. “My beloved. Has it really come to this? Am I to truly lose you to the vastness of space? To never know what became of you.”

Eyes wide, Mordred looked from Gaheris to the radio and back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lynette frown and cross her arms over her chest. This was a completely unexpected development. A sign that the rebellion was turning them away, right? Why else had they brought in Gaheris’ lover to say goodbye.

“The hell is this?” Lynette asked, shooting Gaheris a look.

“This is a game we play,” Gaheris said, leaning forward. “Princess Cywyllog.” Now he sounded as torn up as the woman. Frowning, Mordred leaned up against Lynette’s chair so he would have a good view of his cousin. A game they played? Mordred couldn’t wait to see this. And judging by Lynette’s snicker, she felt the same.

“My love, it pains me to leave you like this. That I could look upon your lovely face one last time. I fear the pain of losing you may kill me long before the Empire reaches me.”

“Oh, Gaheris, you mustn’t say things like that. My darling, please. Promise me you will fight till the bitter end. Promise me you won’t give up. I have faith in you, Gaheris. I have faith that our love will persevere and return you to my side.”

“For you, Cywyllog. For you I will fight. For you I will conquer the death star itself. You have renewed my strength, my love. May your faith never waver and I swear by all the stars above I shall find a way to return to your side.”

“Okay, I can’t do this,” the woman said, her voice changing to something less overwrought. She sounded far away—like she had turned her head away from the radio. “We’re running out of time and it’s clearly Gaheris.”

“What was that?” Lynette asked as the radio went silent again. She sounded like she was trying hard not to laugh.

“Princess Cywyllog of Strathclyde was the other prominent rebellion spy in the Senate,” Gaheris said. “Since we were both running in and out of high risk situations, we had a sort of code to ensure the other hadn’t been compromised or brainwashed.” He leaned in closer to the radio and raised his voice. “Technically we’re supposed to go until one of us laughs.”

“Really, Gaheris?” Cywyllog asked. “You want to spend hours trying to break each other? Are you sure that’s a best use of your time?”

“Would I be me if I didn’t?” Gaheris asked. “You led the team that infiltrated Colonge, after all. My identity isn’t the only one that needs to be verified.”

“Yes, but lucky me, my identity has already been verified and it’s not as though they’ll believe you if you tell them they got it wrong.”

“This does not instill confidence,” Isolde said.

“I don’t know what else you want,” Cywyllog said. “Just tell him where we are and get this over with.”

“I agree,” Gawain said. “We have the list of planets the Death Star intends on hitting within the week. Our allies will either abandon us or be destroyed. We risked so much to get the plans in the first place. If there’s even the slightest chance that this is Gaheris and he’s telling the truth, we have to risk it.”

“Oh, thanks for the vote of confidence, Gawain.” Gaheris said.

 “How dire is your situation?” Isolde finally asked. “May we have a couple hours to begin our evacuation before we transmit our location?”

“Are you on a planet or a moon?” Lynette asked and Isolde hesitated.

“This is related to the Death Star’s capabilities,” Gaheris said. “We’re trying to protect you by accurately timing our arrival.”

“We’re on a moon,” Cywyllog said.

“Is the planet a gas giant or terrestrial?” Gaheris asked.

“Gas giant.”

“Excellent,” Lynette said. “We figure the Death Star will be about twelve hours behind us. Make sure you time our arrival so you’re on the dark side of the planet when they arrive. That should buy all of us a couple extra hours—they won’t be able to fire their weapon until their orbit aligns with yours.”  

“That’s needed intel,” Cywyllog said after a moment. “Thank you for being so forthcoming.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t forget to hold up your end of the bargain,” Lynette said.

“We won’t,” Isolde said and the line went dead and the static returned.

The four organic occupants all exchanged nervous glances. AC-LN chirped and buzzed happily as it disconnected itself from the Damsel’s computer.

“Well, now I guess we wait,” Ax said settling back into his chair. Everyone else did the same. There would be no relaxing until they had heard back from the rebellion.

Chapter Text

Dolorous Guard was a small system that seemed to sit at the exact point where the inner worlds became the outer worlds. It was entirely unremarkable in its existence—a sun, a couple of gas giants, and a handful of habitable moons. It was so unremarkable that Gaheris was kicking himself for not considering it as a base location. He knew it had been on the list for years. And while the rebellion was in the midst of their most aggressive push against the Empire in decades, where better to hide than a system where literally no one would think to look for them because half the time the galaxy forgot that Dolorous Guard even existed? 

The rebellion base was on a moon orbiting the third planet from the sun. Dolorous Guard 3-1 by the Republic’s cataloging method for uninhabited systems. Of course, the Republic was long gone, so maybe they could call it something else now. Dolorous Guard had such a morose cadence to it.

Of course, it was entirely possible that Dolorous Guard 3-1 wouldn’t exist for much longer. Then it would have a fitting name to go with its fitting end.

Arriving at the moon, they were immediately escorted down to the rebellion base by two X-wing fighters. While on approach, they saw a large starship leaving the planet. Gaheris sighed in relief at the sight of that. Isolde had taken their advice and was evacuating the planet. Good. He was grateful that his mistakes wouldn’t leave the rebellion damaged beyond repair.

They set down inside the hanger. Trucks with mounted guns pulled up alongside the Damsel and it was clear that every guard in sight was standing at the ready.

“Well this is a warm and fuzzy welcome,” Lynette said as she powered down the ship.

“They’re just defending themselves,” Gaheris said. “The Damsel could easily be carrying a squadron of Stormtroopers. So long as we go out unarmed, they won’t hurt us. Probably.”

Sighing loudly, Lynette pulled both her blasters from her belt and rested them on the cockpit controls before getting to her feet.

“Really?” Gaheris asked. “Both of them?”

“I don’t want to be tempted,” Lynette said. “Besides, Prince Charming to the rescue. Right?”

“That will get old eventually,” Gaheris said.

“No it won’t,” Lynette said. She looked at Mordred, who was still in his seat. He was staring out the cockpit window, but his gaze as a little unfocused. She tapped his shoulder and he looked up at her.

“Come on, puppy. Time to go.”

“You were right,” Mordred said and Lynette tipped her head to the side. “The approach was amazing. I’d never seen anything like it.”

Lynette pressed her lips together as she bumped her fist against his shoulder twice before leaving the cockpit. Ax went after her. Gaheris got his feet and offered Mordred a hand.

“Come on, Dred,” Gaheris said. “It’s like mom always said. Home is with family and we just found our way back.”

Mordred almost smiled as he took Gaheris’ hand and let himself be led out of the cockpit. Gaheris didn’t begrudge Mordred his sudden bout of nerves. He was just barely able to keep a lid on his own. His bad choices had gotten his mother and Agravain killed. He hadn’t been able to save Lothian from Tiberius. He hadn’t been able to save Aunt Morgan from Ursus. What if Gawain and Gareth never forgave him those mistakes?

Lynette, Ax, and the Droids were waiting for them by the gangplank. Gaheris frowned, surprised to see it was still sealed shut. He thought Lynette would have opened it by now.

“You can stand right here,” Lynette said, motioning to what would be the center of the gangplank when it opened.

“Paranoid,” Gaheris said, but he did as she asked.

“Just making sure you’re not having me to do something you’re not willing to do yourself,” Lynette said as she finally entered the sequence that opened the gangplank.

Gaheris couldn’t help but smile at the sight that greeted him outside the Damsel and his nerves finally calmed. All worries aside, this was the person he had most wanted to greet upon returning to the rebellion. It was a small wish, but Gaheris had never been so relieved to have one come true.

“Aw, hell,” Lynette said. “There are two of you!”

Ignoring her, Gaheris made his way down the gangplank. His twin, Gareth, met him at the bottom. Tears pricked at Gaheris’ eyes as he was enveloped in a hug.

“I knew you’d find your way back to us,” Gareth said. “I never doubted it. Not for a second.”

“You sure you didn’t waver?” Gaheris asked. “Just a little?”

“Not once,” Gareth said.

“So what is this?” Lynette asked. Gaheris broke away from Gareth and turned to find she had followed him down the gangplank. “Is it like the fairy story? Prince Charming and the Kitchen Boy?”

Gaheris coughed to stifle a laugh. Out of all the guards in the hanger, Gareth was the only one not uniform. And Lynette wasn’t wrong—he did look like he had been hauled out of the kitchens to greet them.

“You must be Captain Perilous,” Gareth said.

“I must be,” Lynette said, blatantly looking Gareth up and down.

“Forgive my appearance,” Gareth said, staring her down. “I was pulled off of a shift in the mess to come meet you.”

“Trouble?” Lynette asked.

“Day’s roster,” Gareth said. “We all do our part.”

“I see,” Lynette said, motioning to the others. “Well, this is Axatalese, my first mate. I guess the droids are yours and that, I believe, is your cousin.”

Gareth’s face lit up. “Mordred. I don’t believe it. Is that really you?”

“Gareth,” Mordred said, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug.

“I thought you’d be taller,” Gareth finally said, stepping away.

“Me too!” Gaheris said.

“Right? I remember Uncle Arthur being really tall.”

“A giant,” Gaheris said, holding his hand above his head. “Heads taller than Gawain.”

“And just how old were the two of you the last time you saw my father?” Mordred asked.

“Three,” Gareth said and Gaheris nodded. That sounded right to him.

“Where’s Gawain?” Mordred asked. “I thought he’d be here.”

“He and the rest of the leadership have been locked in a room with Isolde ever since you called,” Gareth said. “Speaking of which—”

“Gaheris!”

Gaheris turned around right as Cywyllog launched herself into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she said, squeezing him tight before stepping away from him. “When the plan failed and Ursus went after you… I was sure all was lost.”

“She was,” Gareth said. “She’s been mopping around the base ever since she got back.”

Cywyllog shook her head. “It was supposed to be us. My team was prepared.”

“It turned out all right in the end,” Gaheris said. “I’m glad that the Rogue Squadron was able to use the Gringolet’s misfortune to escape. At least, that’s what I assume happened. Don’t dissuade me.”

“I can’t,” Cywyllog said. “When Ursus went after you, we suddenly were the only ones on the base with a working ship and no one standing in the way of our escape. I tried to pull a hard copy, but of course it was corrupted. There wasn’t even a scrap of data that was retrievable.”

 “We were in the midst of contemplating the success of another run when you called,” Gareth said. “So we should get—”

Gaheris swayed on his feet as his ears roared and his vision blurred. Whatever Ursus had given him, it had mostly cleared out of his system by this point. Mostly. The dizzy spells were few and far between, but they hadn’t completely gone away yet.  

“What’s wrong with him?” he heard Gareth ask as the roar began to subside a little. Someone grabbed his shoulder to keep him upright and he was pretty sure it was Lynette.

“They gave him something right before we rescued him,” Lynette said. “It’s been happening on and off for the past day.”

“Alright, let’s get him to medical,” Gareth said. “Cywyllog, can you take the AC unit to Isolde?”

Gaheris didn’t pay much attention to what was said after that. This was the worst his symptoms had been in hours. He could barely manage walking as he was shuffled off to one of the trucks. By the time they reached medical, the roar had died down and his vision had mostly cleared. A hand rested a hand on his shoulder after the truck came to a stop and Gaheris turned his head to find himself staring at a familiar face.

“Hello, Ragnell,” he said.

“Hello, Gaheris,” she said. “We missed you.”

Despite his protestations, he was made to take a wheelchair to a medical bed where Ragnell forced him to lay down. Gaheris tried to insist that he was fine and that the episode had passed, but Rangell just shushed him and went to work taking readings.

“Well, Gaheris,” Ragnell said, finally returning with his test results. “Was the ship you were on really so destitute you couldn’t manage to get your hands on a basic medkit?”

Gaheris looked around, expecting Lynette to object to that characterization of her ship, only to realize she wasn’t there. Only Gareth and Mordred had come with him to medical.

“Where’s Lynette?” he asked.

“She and Ax went with Cywyllog and the droids,” Mordred said. “Your friend promised to take them to the mess once she’d dropped off AC-LN.”

“My question, Gaheris,” Ragnell said.

“I’m sure the Damsel had a fine medkit,” Gaheris said. “I didn’t bother looking because I didn’t see the point. They gave me something. I just need to wait for it to wear off.”

“Not this stuff,” Ragnell said. “Nasty compound. You actually need to take something to clear it out of your system.”

“Yes, because that’s what I want to be doing while we’re on the run from the Death Star,” Gaheris said, sitting up. This time he didn’t let anyone push him back down. “Will it eventually clear out on its own?”

“It’ll take days,” Ragnell said.

“Fine, I’ll wait days,” Gaheris said. “Or at least until we’re off planet. Please, Ragnell. I have vomited more times in the past few days than I care to count. I just want to lie back and rest now that I’m somewhere safe.”

“I have no objections to that,” Ragnell said, leaning in close to him. “So long as you actually rest.”

Taking her hint, Gaheris dropped back down into the bed. Sighing, he turned his head to look at Gareth and Mordred. “You don’t have to stay. Have Gareth take you down to the mess and get something to eat.”

“I actually want to look at this one,” Ragnell said, motioning to Mordred.

“Me?” Mordred asked, his eyes going wide. “I’m not hurt.”

“Can I see your hand?” Ragnell asked.

Mordred held out his arm and Ragnell slipped her hand into his. She stood like that for a few seconds, not moving. Gaheris frowned, wondering just what she thought she was accomplishing. Ragnell, for all she looked human, wasn’t, and she had a sixth sense for detecting injuries. Mordred was hurt, Gaheris just wasn’t sure how or when it could have happened. Mordred hadn’t been out of his sight since the rescue… except for the spiders.

“Feel that?” Ragnell asked finally asked.

“Feel what?” Mordred asked.

Ragnell pulled her hand back and held it up, revealing a small stone that was tucked between her fingers.

“Numbness,” Ragnell said. “Not enough that you can’t feel, but enough that you can’t discern textures. Sustained electrical shocks over a period of days, correct?”

Gaheris’ eyes widened as he looked at Mordred. To his surprise, instead of looking upset or resigned that his secret had been revealed, Mordred looked entirely baffled.   

 “When did you receive an electrical shock?” Gareth asked.

“I didn’t,” Mordred said.

“Something with the spiders?” Gaheris asked, before shaking his head. No, that had only lasted an instant and Ragnell said that this had been over several days.

“No. I swear I didn’t…” He paused before dropping his head forward and running a hand across his brow. “Aunt Morgan’s training module. It shocked me whenever I was distracted. We trained for several hours a day during the trip to Lothian.”

“Even if that was the case, a training module isn’t strong enough to cause any lasting damage,” Gareth said.

“Not if it was set correctly,” Ragnell said. “But they do come with different settings for different species. Perhaps it was set incorrectly—to a species much more durable against electricity.”

“That’s… probably right,” Mordred said. Mordred had been a child when Gaheris had left home and a couple days wasn’t nearly enough time for Gaheris to have a true understanding of who Mordred was now. That said, to Gaheris’ ears Mordred didn’t sound convinced. He couldn’t even begin to fathom why. Aunt Morgan was old, she had just lost her sister, and she was on her way to jump back into a fight she had left years ago. It had probably been years since she had used the training module. It made sense that she had made a mistake.

But Mordred wasn’t convinced. Or maybe he was and Gaheris was reading something into his tone that wasn’t there.

“You’ll be fine,” Ragnell said. “I don’t see any signs of permanent damage. But there are always risks with the stress you’ve been under. I recommend you rest here while you can. It’ll be a few hours yet before they start tearing down medical. Everywhere else you’re likely to get interrupted.”

“Of course,” Mordred said, sounding much more like himself. Maybe Gaheris had imagined his disbelief at Aunt Morgan making a simple mistake.

“You two rest up,” Gareth said, clapping a hand on Mordred’s shoulder. “I’ll come check on you later, but for now I need to get back to my regular duties.”

“Kitchen Boy?” Gaheris asked.

“Nope, I never want to hear that ever again,” Gareth said before he and Ragnell disappeared through the door.

“He has no idea what he’s in for if Lynette sticks around,” Gaheris said, laying back in his bed as Mordred settled into the one next to him.

Chapter Text

Mordred awoke to the sensation of a shadow looming over him.

“Don’t be an ass, Gawain,” he heard Ragnell say.

Mordred opened his eyes and turned over to find a large red headed man standing next to his bed. Ragnell stood a few steps behind him. 

“Hello,” the man said. “This lovely lady tells me that you’re my cousin Mordred.”

“Gawain,” Mordred said, sliding off the bed so he could give his eldest cousin a hug. “You’re bigger than I remember.”

All of Morgause’s sons were tall. Gawain had been tall when he left, but lanky like the twins. Now he was almost as broad in the shoulders as Agravain had been.

“I should hope so, considering you were how tall when I left?” Gawain asked, bending over and holding a hand next to his knee. Mordred shook his head and rolled his eyes. He’d been ten when Gawain left. Not a baby.

Gawain laughed as he straightened up and flexed the muscles in his arms. “Although now that you mention it, I filled out the frame nicely? Didn’t I?”

“You’ve got to be careful with him, Dred,” came Gaheris’ voice from behind him. “Gawain will take any opportunity to brag.”

“So you are awake,” Gawain said, making his way over to Gaheris’ bed. Gaheris opened his eyes and smiled as Gawain rested a hand on shoulder. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“It’s good to be back,” Gaheris said, squeezing Gawain’s hand. “Anything come of those plans?”

“Not yet,” Gawain said. “Isolde gave the techs and leadership two hours to find something and come up with a viable plan.”

“We must be getting close to that deadline,” Mordred said. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but somewhere between one and two hours sounded about right.

“Wait, you’re leadership,” Gaheris said, sitting up. “Shouldn’t you be looking? Why aren’t you looking?”

“I did look,” Gawain said. “I skimmed it twice and didn’t find anything that could be turned into a viable plan.”

“Skimmed it?”

“I’m not a technician, Gaheris. It was the best I could do. It’s up to someone else to find a way.”

“Well I’m someone else. Do you have the plans? Give them to me and I’ll find something.”

“Gaheris—”

“No, Gawain. We have to try something and we have to try it now. The Empire knows we have the plans. If we sulk off they’re going to be ready for whatever we try in the future. We stand the best chance of succeeding if we strike now when they’re unprepared.”

“I know that,” Gawain said. “Everyone knows that. It’s why we’re trying to find something now instead of packing up and getting out of here. But it may not be feasible to come up with the plan we need in the time we have left.”

Scowling, Gaheris lifted his hands to his face and pressed his palms up against his eyes.

“We could try,” Mordred said. He didn’t like seeing Gahris so upset, but he also couldn’t fathom the rebellion just giving up. Too many people had sacrificed their lives. They had to at least try. “If you have the plans, it won’t hurt for us to look.”

Gawain reached for something on his belt. Ragnell grabbed his arm and shook her head.

“You’re both better off resting,” she said. “We have very good technicians. I’m sure they’ll be able to figure something out.”

“Doctor’s orders,” Gawain said as the door whooshed open and a dark-skinned man in a red flight suit stepped into the room.

“Ha!” he said, pointing at Gawain. “Found you!”

“I…wasn’t lost,” Gawain said mildly, shrugging his shoulders.

The man made a face at Gawain before he poked his head back out into the hallway. “Found him!” he shouted. Then he gave a thumbs up to whoever he was talking to and stepped back into the room, letting the door shut behind him.

“Percival,” Gaheris said. He sounded annoyed.

“Oh, hi Gaheris,” Percival said absently, his eyes on the tablet in his hand. “Glad you’re alright. Always liked you.”

Gawain sighed and for a moment he looked like he was going to say something. Ragnell ran a hand down his back and that stilled him. The door opened again and this time it was Cywyllog who entered.

“This had better be good,” Ragnell said, tipping her head to the side. “You know how I feel about strategy meetings in medical.”

“Percival’s done it,” Cywyllog said.

“Done what?” Gaheris asked.

“Found a way to destroy the Death Star,” Percival said. He stepped in front of one of the screens on the wall. He made some sort of throwing motion over his tablet and the screen came alive, showing some sort of schematic. Gaheris hopped off his bed and crossed the room to go look at it.

“No,” Gawain said.

“You haven’t even heard what he has to say,” Gaheris said.

“I don’t need to,” Gawain said. “I know exactly what I’m looking at. The exhaust ports, right?”

“What exhaust ports?” Gaheris asked.

“The thermal exhaust ports off the main reactor of the Death Star’s central weapon—the one that destroyed Lothian,” Cywyllog said.

“All you need to do is collapse one,” Percival said. “The reactor will overheat as they power up the weapon and implode when they try to fire it. It will destroy the Death Star.”

“It can’t be done,” Gawain said.

“It can to be done!”

“Those exhaust ports are only two meters wide. Our starships don’t have torpedoes small enough to enter the port and collapse it from within.”

Percival shook his head as he waved his hand over his tablet. The image on the screen changed from the schematic of the exhaust port to a schematic of the whole Death Star. “You don’t want a starship going up against this thing. Its defenses were built to defend against an attack from a fleet of large ships. No, the only way for this to work is to send in one-man fighters. They’ll be able to slip through the Death Star’s defenses and their torpedoes are small enough to enter the port before they explode.”

Gawain’s eyes went very, very wide. “Your plan to destroy a space station the size of a small moon is to send in one-man fighters?” Percival nodded. “Are you insane?”

“It’ll work!”

“It’ll never work!”

“No, look,” Percival said, waving his hand over his tablet. Page after page swept across the screen before settling on what looked like a list of names followed by columns of statistics. Gawain’s name was at the very top of the list, followed by Percival.

“We have six pilots who stand a good chance of making the shot,” Percival said.

“Is that simulator data?” Gawain asked. Percival nodded. “Then it’s not realistic. You know the simulator overestimates our abilities.”

“So…what?” Percival asked. “A 60 to 70 percent probability becomes 40 to 50?”

“Those aren’t great odds.”

“They’re also not terrible odds,” Percival said. “This is our only chance to try this. The Empire is going to spend the next few days combing over the Death Star’s schematics looking for a weakness so they can anticipate our next move. These ports are going to raise some red flags. As are their lack of defenses against single fighter ships. This will be one of the first holes they plug.”

“I agree,” Gaheris said. “And it’s a low risk operation with high reward.”

“You think sending one-man fighters against a space station the size of a moon with a weapon that can destroy planets is low risk?”

“Compared to sending in our whole fleet of starships against the same station? Yes, I do.”

“All of our intel says the Death Star is undermanned,” Percival said. “Skeleton crew. There are more TIE fighters on a single Star Destroyer than on that battle station.”

“They won’t expect an attack,” Cywyllog said. “They’ll expect us to run. It may just be enough to lull them into a false sense of security.”

“This could work, Gawain,” Gaheris said. “Percival’s right. We’ll never get another shot at this. We have try. We have to try now.”

“What about that Imperial engineer of yours?” Gawain asked, looking at Cywyllog. “The one who defected.”

“What about her?” Cywyllog asked.

“What does she think of this plan of yours?”

“She thinks it’s a good one.”

“Isn’t there supposed to be some hidden weakness in the Death Star plans written out just for her to decipher? Do you really expect me to believe that this is it?”

“Of course this isn’t it,” Cywyllog said. “But Fenice says she would need a least a week of combing through the plans to find the weakness and even then, she’s not certain it would do us any good. It’s likely that this hidden weakness was designed to be engaged from within the Death Star and after what just happened, I don’t like our odds of getting anyone onto that station anytime soon.”

Gawain sighed as he ran a hand along his face. “I suppose you want me to take this to Isolde?”

“She likes you better than any of us,” Percival said.

“That’s not saying much,” Gawain said. He pointed to Percival and Gaheris. “But I want the two of you with me. Percival, you have the numbers. Gaheris, you were actually on the Death Star. You know better than anyone else what we’re up against.”

“What about me?” Mordred asked. “Is there something I could be doing?”

Gawain and Ragnell exchanged a worried glance. Mordred shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. What was that about?

“It would probably be best if you stayed here,” Ragnell said. To Mordred it felt like coddling and he didn’t like it at all. “It’s been a long couple days—”

“I’ll take him,” Cywyllog said. “You need to focus on packing, Ragnell. I’ll take him down to the mess. They’re still serving food. We’ll figure out where he’s most useful from there.”

“Cywyllog,” Gawain warned.

“He’s going to figure it out eventually, Gawain,” Cywyllog said. “There’s no point in tip-toeing around it.”

“Tip-toe around what?” Mordred asked.

“You should come with us,” Gaheris said to Cywyllog. “We could use your help convincing Isolde.”

“I wouldn’t be much help—not right now,” Cywyllog said. “But I’ll be there for the full meeting.”

“Come on you two,” Gawain said, going to the door. “We don’t have a lot of time and Isolde is not going to be easily convinced.”

“Yeah, because you were a walk in the park,” Percival muttered as he and Gaheris left the room. Gawain paused in the doorway and looked back at Mordred and Cywyllog.

“Look,” he said. “Just promise—”

“Gawain, shut up and let me handle this,” Cywyllog said.

Gawain held his hands up in defeat. “Good luck, Dred,” he said before leaving he room.

“Come on,” Cywyllog said, heading to the door. “You look half starved.”

“Thank you,” Mordred said with a nod to Rangell.

“My pleasure,” she said. She opened her mouth as if to say more, then shook her head and turned away.

Out in the hallway, Mordred had to jog to catch up with Cywyllog.

“So what was all that about?” Mordred asked. “That look between Gawain and Ragnell and your comment about tip-toeing? What were you talking about?”

“Do you know who you are?” Cywyllog asked.

“Yes…?” he said. “I’m Mordred.”

“Mordred Pendragon,” Cywyllog said. “Son of Sir Arthur Pendragon. The greatest Knight of Avalon the Order has ever seen. And, more importantly, the founder of the Round Table Alliance.”

“My father’s been dead a long time—”

“Dead?” Cywyllog asked with a shake of her head. “No, captured. Held in the heart of the Empire.”

“Right,” Mordred said. “That’s something I’m still trying to get my head around. I grew up believing he was dead.”

“Of course,” Cywyllog said. “I’ve heard your cousins all arrived with the same misconceptions. I wish I knew why Morgause chose to lie to you.”

“So what does Arthur have to do with me? I’ve never met him.”

“The rebellion was created by the remaining members of the Round Table after the Emperor’s purge,” Cywyllog said. “Although he was taken prisoner beforehand, there are many here who see Sir Arthur Pendragon not only as the founder of the rebellion, but as the rightful leader. After all, he’s prophesied to restore the Knights of Avalon and bring about a new era of peace and prosperity to the galaxy. And you, as his son, are destined to save him.”   

“You know about the prophecy?” Mordred asked.

“Everyone knows about the prophecy,” Cywyllog said. “To many here, you are our salvation.”

“But not you?” Mordred asked. Honestly, she didn’t seem that impressed by him. Of course, so far she hadn’t seemed very impressed with much of anything, so maybe it wasn’t worth reading into.

Cywyllog shrugged. “Well, you got us the plans and you rescued Gaheris. So I suppose you’re doing better out of the gate than I would have expected. Let’s see how you hold up.”

Entering the mess, Mordred quickly found himself facing what Gawain had been worried about. Several people looked up as he and Cywyllog entered and none of the looked away. That caught the attention of the people they were sitting with. Soon the whole mess was looking at him. Cywyllog tugged at the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him off into a corner of the mess.

“How do they know it’s me?” Mordred asked, moving closer to her.

“News spread fast that you were coming after you contacted Gawain,” Cywyllog said. “And a lot of people here were on duty in the hanger when you arrived.” She motioned for him to take a seat at one of the tables. “Wait here. I’ll go get you something.”

“What happened to Lynette and Ax?” Mordred asked. He didn’t see either of them in the mess. Not surprising, since it had been a couple hours since they parted.

“They’re back at her ship,” Cywyllog said. “Overseeing the removal of the tracker.”

Mordred nodded as he settled down at the table, wondering if he should go join Lynette and Ax as soon as he was done here. Clearly he wasn’t going to be of use to anyone in helping with the evacuation. Not if the level of distraction in the mess was anything to judge.

When Cywyllog finally made her way back to him, Gareth was with her. She was explaining something to him as they walked and Gareth’s frown only got deeper with every word.

“And they’re taking this to Isolde?” he heard Gareth ask in disbelief.

“Percival’s plan?” Mordred asked as the other two sat across from his. Gareth pushed a bowl towards him.

“It’s unique,” Cywyllog said. “You have to give him that.”

“The Empire definitely won’t see it coming,” Gareth agreed.  

Mordred poked at the lump of brown goop that could only charitably be referred to as food. This looked worse than the rations on the Savage Damsel, but at least it smelled better. Gareth laughed.

“It’s a far cry fresh fish, isn’t it?” Gareth said.

“Are we going to have another months long commiseration about the rations?” Cywyllog asked. “Gawain was bad enough when you and Gaheris showed up.”

“It wasn’t until I got here that I understood why Agravain never left Tintagel,” Gareth said. “He was perhaps the most sensible of us all.”

Mordred dropped his fork, his appetite suddenly gone. The rations on their own were bad enough. But the reminder of Agravain and Aunt Morgause…and now Aunt Morgan too. All dead. All dead protecting him.

“Dred, you need to eat,” Gareth said softly.

“I want to help,” Mordred said. “I want to do something to help the rebellion. I know I’m little more than a distraction right now, but there has to be something I can do to help with the evacuation.”

“You did help,” Cywyllog said. “You got us the plans. You brought back Gaheris. You’ve done enough.”

Gareth tipped his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “We could get him into one of the simulators.”

“What for?” Cywyllog asked.

“Once the simulators are packed up, they’re not going to be unpacked until we’re back on solid ground again,” Gareth said. “If we want to see what Dred can do, we’re not going to get another chance until we’ve established a new base. And with the Death Star looming large, who knows when that will be.”

Cywyllog glanced from Mordred to Gareth and back. “I guess it’s worth doing. If you’re half a good a pilot as Gawain, you may end up flying a fighter in this mission.”

“Will you be flying?” Mordred asked Gareth as they got to their feet and left the mess.

Gareth shook his head. “I’m a gunner on one of the starships. Unfortunately, my piloting skills didn’t transfer as well from boat to fighter as they did for Gawain. Same for Gaheris. It’s why he went into spy work and eventually returned to Lothian.”

“So Gawain’s good then?” Mordred asked.

“Commander Luddowc?” Cywyllog asked—the rank alone making her point. “He’s one of the best. It’s a tossup between him and Percival as to who’s actually better. They’ll argue about it until they’re blue in the face if you get them going.”

“Gawain’s name was above Percival’s on that list he showed,” Mordred said.

Cywyllog wrinkled her nose. “That was based on probability of making the shot and I’d bet the simulator is wrong and Percival has the better chance. The simulator doesn’t do a good job distinguishing between ship preference and Gawain will fly one of the Y-Wings. The X-Wings have smaller torpedoes, giving Percival the advantage.”

“Ah, but first Percival has to get there,” Gareth said. “And the Y-Wings are much more durable.”

“But slower,” Cywyllog said with a snicker. “And so every argument devolves.”

“Here we are,” Gareth said as the entered the room with the simulator. Mordred balked at the size of the hulking black boxes that were spread out across the room. He was even less sure about this when Gareth opened one up and motioned for him to take a seat.

“Awfully small in here,” Mordred said as he took a seat and buckled the safety harness across his chest.

“Little bigger than an X-Wing, little smaller than a Y-Wing,” Gareth said.

“But those seem bigger because they have windows,” Cywyllog said. “It’ll seem bigger too once it’s on and the program is running.”

“Controls look familiar?” Gareth asked.

“Yeah,” Mordred said. Much, much more familiar than the cockpit of the Savage Damsel.

“Alright, good luck,” Gareth said before he pulled the simulator door closed and left Mordred to the program.

Cywyllog left not long Mordred started his simulator runs for the leadership meeting. Gareth wished her luck, hoping that she would be on the receiving end of good news regarding Percival’s plan. They needed a win against the Empire and they needed it now. And trying was better than once again cutting and running with their tails between their legs.

For his part, Gareth ran Mordred through simulation program after simulation program. It wasn’t as though he had much choice in the matter. There was always a tipping point and it hadn’t taken Gareth long to hit it. Now the fun was all in the snowball.

 Gaheris and Percival found him when Mordred was in the middle of his last run. Gareth waved at them, making a note of Gaheris’ relaxed posture and Percival’s boiling over rage. What did that even mean?

“So…” Gareth said, motioning between the two of them. “What am I supposed to take from this?”

“Isolde approved the mission,” Gaheris said.

“She did not!” Percival scoffed.

“Did you two even attend the same meeting?” Gareth asked.

“She approved the mission,” Gaheris said, his voice firm. “Percival and Gawain will lead two squads of nine fighters against the Death Star while it’s still in orbit around Dolorous Guard 3.”

“How does translate to not approving the mission?” Gareth asked.

“She doesn’t think the plan will work so she’s not authorizing any of our elite pilots,” Percival said. “The only reason Gawain and I are staying is because it’s our plan and we refused to hand it off to someone else.”

“Why even run this at all if she thinks it won’t work?” Gareth asked.

“Because she thinks that if it fails spectacularly the Empire won’t realize what a high risk weakness the exhaust ports are and we’ll be able to try again when we’ve had more time to plan,” Percival said in disgust, kicking his foot against the floor. “She’s sending a bunch of kids off on a suicide mission.”

“It could still work,” Gaheris said. “You and Gawain both have a fifty-fifty probability of making the shot. That’s better than nothing.”

“Not by much,” Percival said. “We went from six pilots of eighteen with that fifty-fifty probability to two. And considering how hard it’s going to be to make it to the exhaust ports in the first place, I don’t like our odds.”

“I know you want to hope, Gaheris,” Gareth said with a shake of his head. “But this is wrong. Sacrificing pilots like this on the off-chance the Empire won’t realize their vulnerabilities is wrong.”

“I know it’s wrong,” Gaheris said. “But I’d still rather see a bunch of mediocre pilots try than no one. I just need someone to try!”

Percival coughed and looked away—his eyes finding the readout from the simulator. Gareth held Gaheris’ gaze, unsure about what he should do. What had happened to Lothian was horrifying. But it was almost a distant sort of horrifying. The destruction of an entire planet was so large and beyond the scale of what Gareth could comprehend that he was finding it hard to grieve its loss.

Lothian wasn’t home. It hadn’t been home in a long time. Gareth only had vague memories of it. He barely even remembered his father. He’d never had cause to go to Lothian after joining the rebellion, so he hadn’t gone. But Gaheris had. Gaheris hadn’t just gone back, he’d made it a home. Gaheris knew their father. Gaheris knew the people of Lothian.

Gaheris had been forced to watch as the Empire destroyed it.

Gareth didn’t know how to comfort his brother in the face of that sort of grief. He was just barely coming to terms with the fact that he would never see his mother or Agravain ever again. Lothian’s destruction was simply beyond him. Beyond any of them, really.

Gaheris deserved to find comfort wherever he could get it. But that didn’t mean he got to condemn a group of young pilots to their deaths in the name of his own personal vengeance. Somewhere deep down Gaheris knew that. It would just take him a while to figure it out.

“Who’s in there?” Percival asked, pointing to the simulator readout.

“My cousin Mordred,” Gareth said. Percival turned to frown at him and Gareth wondered if his mind even connected the name Mordred with ‘Arthur Pendragon’s son—the one destined to save us all.’ “You sort of met him earlier. He was in medical when you told Gawain your plan.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Percival said, waving off his explanation. “Have you seen these numbers?”

“I’ve been following along, yes,” Gareth said.  

Frowning, Gaheris stepped up beside Percival and looked over the readout. His eyes went wide. He looked back at Gareth with his mouth hanging open.

“We always knew he had the makings of a damn good pilot,” Gareth said. “I think Gawain’s ego caused us to lower our expectations far more than we had any right to.”

The program ended and, being the last of the set Gareth lined up, the simulator opened.

Chapter Text

Mordred blinked as bright, white light filled what had a moment ago been the dark cockpit of the simulator. After a moment the shadowy blurs in front of him took a more coherent shape, revealing Gareth, Gaheris, and Percival. They were all looking and him expectantly. Mordred unbuckled the safety harness and wobbly jumped out of the simulator.

“How’d I do?” he asked.

“What do you mean ‘how’d you do?’” Percival snapped. Mordred shied away from him and closer to Gareth.

“Ah, Perc,” Gareth said. “He’s never flown before. He honestly doesn’t know.”

Mordred felt his heart sink. He thought he’d done pretty well. It had gotten pretty hairy there at the end and his ship had taken quite a bit of damage. But he’d made it to the end, right? He’d destroyed the last of the enemy fighters and didn’t recall his ship taking any further damage that would have completely disabled it? That was a success, right?

Or maybe not. Gawain had said that the simulators tended to overestimate their capabilities. Maybe the simple fact that he’d taken damage at all was a bad sign.

Gaheris laughed. “Now I see why Lynette calls you puppy. You certainly looked like a kicked one.”

“Gaheris,” Gareth warned. “We can’t tell him. He’ll be even worse than Gawain and Percival combined and that’s the last thing we need.”

“Hell, with numbers like these, I’ll gladly give up the crown,” Percival said.

Mordred blinked as his addled brain tried to follow what they were saying. He’d done…well? He’d done really, really well.

“You up for one more run?” Percival asked, turning back to the panel before Mordred could answer.

“Why?” Gareth asked, his eyes narrowing.

“You saw the numbers,” Percival said. “You know why.”

“No, Perc, Gawain will never agree to it,” Gaheris said.

“He won’t have a choice when he sees the numbers,” Percival said. He finished whatever he was working on and made his way to the simulators as a second one opened. He clapped a hand on Mordred’s shoulder as he went by him. “Come on.”

Mordred looked from the twins to Percival and back. He knew what Percival was suggesting and he had to agree with Gaheris. It seemed unlikely that anyone in the rebellion would agree to this, let alone Gawain. But…Percival was a leader, right? If Percival thought it could happen, maybe he had enough pull to actually make it happen.

He so badly wanted to do something to help the rebellion. Aunt Morgause, Agravain, and Aunt Morgan had all died to protect him. To protect the plans. They were linked now and if there was a way for to use the plans to stop the Empire from destroying another planet, Mordred would gladly be a part of it.”

“You coming?” Percival called from his place in one of the simulators.

“Yeah,” Mordred said, getting back in the simulator he’d just been in.

“Dred,” Gareth said, shaking his head.

“It’s just a simulated run, Gareth,” Mordred said. “It might not even mean anything.”

“Yeah, and it might end up being the very thing that saves us all, so why don’t you think about that,” Percival said as both simulators closed back up.

The run Percival had him on was different from the runs Gareth had used. While those had to do with taking on enemy fighters without getting destroyed, this was all about target practice. Percival would set the targets for him—at various sizes and ranges—and it would be up to Mordred to hit the target. It didn’t take long for Mordred to figure out why Percival had picked this program. Gawain had said the exhaust port on the Death Star was only two meters wide. Percival wanted to know if he could hit it.

He could hit it. Mordred could have told him that without the simulator. Two meters was the average size of the soft spot on the side of an aspidochelones. If he could bring down the moving target the fish presented nine times out of ten, he didn’t doubt his ability to hit a stationary exhaust port if it came down to it.

When the program finally ended, Mordred felt even better about his performance in the simulator than he had after Gareth’s rounds. All of his confidence whooshed right out of him when the simulator opened up to reveal Gawain waiting for them.

“Found you,” Gawain said softly. He did not look happy.

“Did you see the numbers?” Percival asked.

“I don’t care about the numbers,” Gawain said.

“Do you not care because you’re a stubborn git who won’t even look or do you not care about the numbers because they blow you out of the water?” Percival asked.

“You can’t take him up there,” Gawain said. “I won’t allow it.”

“Its fine,” Percival told Mordred as he jumped out of the simulator. Mordred stayed where he was. The cramped confines of the simulator, which had once seemed so daunting, now seemed to offer him a sense of protection and security against Gawain’s fury.

“If he won’t let you fly with his squad, I’ll let you fly with mine,” Percival continued. “I’ll think you’ll handle an X-Wing better anyways.”

“Percival, do you hear yourself?” Gawain asked.

“Look at the numbers, Gawain!” Percival yelled. “95%! He has a 95% probability of hitting the exhaust port.”

“The simulators overestimate—”

“75%, then” Percival said, throwing his hands up in the air. “That’s still better than anyone else. We can’t afford not to take him, Gawain. Not when he could actually do this!”

“Do you know who he is?” Gawain asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Percival said, waving his hand back and forth. “Mordred Pendragon. Son of Arthur Pendragon. The one destined to save us all. Hey, here’s an idea. Let’s give him a chance to actually do something instead of shuffling him off with the rest of the fleet to become nothing more than a figurehead of hope instead of, you know. Someone actually worth believing in.”

“Oh, so you’re a believer in the prophecy now?” Gawain asked. “After years of endlessly mocking it—”

“I believe in those numbers,” Percival said. “If the chosen one is going to swoop in here and put up numbers like that on his first simulated run, then hallelujah. You’ve made a believer out of me, Gawain.”

“I can help,” Mordred said, finally getting out of the simulator. “Gawain, please. I want to help.”

“I know, Dred,” Gawain said. “But…Cywyllog explained it to you, right? What you mean to the rebellion? If you were to die on your very first mission…I honestly believe that such a demoralizing blow could destroy the rebellion.”

“It’s not fair to put that on him,” Percival said. “It’s not his fault that a bunch of idiots built him up into something he could never live up to in their minds.” He turned to Mordred. “You gotta worry about you, hear me? You worry about what your actions mean to you. You can’t live your life trying to be the person other people think you should be.”

“Gawain, if Percival will take me, I don’t need to ask for your permission,” Mordred said. “But I would like your blessing.”

Gawain shook his head. “We’ll swap around. Find a way to fit him on green.”

“Red’s got a spot open and he’ll handle an X-Wing better,” Percival said.

“I’m not trusting you to take care of him.”

“Then trust him to take care of him, you nit!” Percival said as he threw his hands up in the air and walked away. “Gotta think of everything around here. Damn prophecy mucking everything up. Making people stupid.”

“Behold Commander Isles,” Gawain said, motioning at Percival’s back. “One of the best pilots in the rebellion.”

“I have your blessing?” Mordred asked.

“You don’t need it, Dred,” Gawain said. “Percival, as much as I hate to say it, is right. The numbers speak for themselves. And since you’re not technically part of the rebellion—not yet, anyway—Isolde can’t order you to evacuate.”

“But you’re okay with me doing this? You want me there? You’re not just grudgingly accepting me because you have no other choice?”

“You already said that’s not going to change your mind, Dred,” Gawain said. “So why do you care so much?”

Mordred hooked a thumb around Aunt Morgause’s locket and pulled it out from under his shirt. Gawain reached out and ran his fingers around the edge of the locket. He had to know what it was—had to know it wasn’t Mordred’s to carry. And yet his reaction was markedly different from Gaheris’.   

“We fought the night before she died,” Mordred said. “I was so angry that she just wanted me to take the droids to Aunt Morgan and return home like nothing happened. I was angry she wanted me to spend another year pretending everything was okay when I knew Gaheris had been taken by the Empire. She told me that if it meant that much to me, I could go without her blessing.”

“This is her blessing,” Gawain said, holding up the locket before he let it drop back against Mordred’s chest. “She left it for you, right Dred? She left it so you’d know you had her blessing.”

“I just wish I’d heard her say it,” Mordred said. “I wish I’d had the chance to tell her I was sorry for what I said—for storming out.”

“Ah, so that’s the heart of it,” Gawain said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You have my blessing, Mordred. We don’t part on bad terms. And if things go sideways, this argument will not be the last way we remember each other. Got it?”

Mordred nodded. Gawain slung an arm around his shoulder and led him out of the simulator room.

“Come on,” Gawain said. “If you’re going to be in this fight. You should probably be at the last briefing.”

Gawain wound him through the halls of the base. Mordred frowned as he tracked their movements. This…didn’t seem right. There was no way they’d be holding a meeting in there, would they?

“Are we heading back to the hangers?” Mordred asked.

Gawain nodded. “Considering the stakes, I convinced Isolde that we should do something special for the pilots. Give their moral the shot in the arm it needs to get the job done. Didn’t even think about what it could do for you. Probably should have taken you earlier.”

“The…hanger?” Mordred asked. That struck him even as even more unlikely than the briefing simply being held in the hanger. It was a hanger. What could possibly so special about it?

Gawain didn’t answer him, but was positively giddy with excitement when they arrived, Mordred looked from the starship to Gawain and back. She didn’t look like much. Not Savage Damsel levels of unimpressive but…it was a starship. There weren’t a lot of ways to make one starship more impressive than any other starship.

“What am I looking at?” Mordred asked. Gawain was practically vibrating now as he fought to keep from giving up his secret earlier than he meant to.

“That,” Gawain said with a flourished wave. “Is the Camelot.”

Mordred’s mouth fell open as he looked back at the starship in a new light. Suddenly she seemed so much bigger and brighter than his initial impression. She looked like something right out of the legends.

“The…the Camelot?” Mordred stammered. “The original?”

“The very one that was given to your father by Guinevere of Cameliard when he formed the Round Table Alliance,” Gawain said.

Mordred ran forward and stumbled to a stop right in front of the gangplank. Mouth open and eyes wide, he took in the ship up close. The Camelot. His father’s ship. The ship Arthur Pendragon had commanded as he stood against the Saxon’s separatist action and defended the galaxy against their raids and blockades. Where the Round Table Alliance had been created and rulers, soldiers, and Knights of Avalon had come together in defense of the galaxy. Where they had met and planned and held briefings.

Briefings. The final briefing. Gawain said they were using the final briefing as a moral boost.

“Are we meeting at the Round Table?” Mordred asked.

“The very same,” Gawain said with a laugh. “Look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited about anything.”

“I was ten when you left,” Mordred said.

“Even still—ten year olds should be excitable,” Gawain said. “Tintagel, for all she stands for, wasn’t for you Dred. You’re like Uncle Arthur. You were meant for battle. You were meant to protect and defend. I’m sorry I didn’t see that earlier. It’s hard to remember that you’re not ten anymore.”

Mordred ran his hand along the railing of the gangplank. “I wish I’d known him. I wish I’d been able to see this—Camelot and the Round Table—in their glory days. I wish I’d been a part of it.”

“Well, now you get to be a part of this,” Gawain said as he led Mordred up to the gangplank and to the briefing room.

Mordred excitement returned full force at the sight of the Round Table. Then the room went silent and reality came crashing back down. He looked up to find all the occupants of the room staring at him. He wasn’t just a promising pilot to these people the way he was to Percival. He was their savior.

It was hard focus on staying true to yourself when facing a room full of people silently demanding you be something else. And he would have to fly with these people. How was he going to do that? They were distracted enough on the ground to be a danger to themselves. What would it be like once they were up in the air?

“Hey!” Percival said, waving to them. “Saved you some seats.”

Trying not to focus on the eyes on him, Mordred cross the room and took a seat next to Percival with Gawain sitting on his other side. On one side of the room was a large screen displaying the Death Star plans.

Standing in front of the screen and behind the only ornately decorated chair at the table was a humanoid alien. Female, clearly. Mordred thought she was older too, although it was hard to tell. She looked more like a skeleton than a living person with her gray, leathery skin, no muscle mass, and sharp, prominent bones. It wasn’t her white hair, sunken in eyes, or the wrinkled lines around her mouth that gave Mordred the impression she was older that Aunt Morgan or Aunt Morgause had been. It was the way she carried herself. This was a woman who had seen centuries and lived through decades of wars. From the deference everyone in the room seemed to pay to her, Mordred was willing to guess that this was Isolde. The seeming leader of the rebellion. At least, if what Cywyllog said was true, until Arthur was returned to them.

“I see you’re all here,” Isolde said, her voice carrying over the sudden hush in the room. There was a musical, almost chanting quality to her cadence. “Let us begin.”

She was brisk and concise as she walked them through Percival’s plan. Since it was the plan and those that needed to be had already been convinced, there were no interruptions as she explained how two squadrons of nine fighters would penetrate the Death Star’s defenses and use the torpedoes to collapse the exhaust port and destroy the Death Star with it.

Percival had made getting to the exhaust port out to be simple, but listening to Isolde talk, Mordred was beginning to realize it was going to be a lot more complicated. They would need to get right up next to the Death Star. Maintenance trenches would be their best defense against the guns on the base and whatever fighters the station would send after them. But the trenches weren’t built to accommodate high speed fighters. Flying inside them would pose as many dangers as flying above the station.

A targeting computer was installed in each of the fighters and as Isolde spoke, they were being programmed with the Death Star schematics. The computers would direct them to the exhaust port and calculate the optimal positioning for a clean shot. Percival snorted softly as Isolde explained this part.

“You disagree?” Mordred asked him softly.

“You ever use a computer to hunt down your little fishies?” Percival asked.

“Sounds like the fish were a lot easier to see,” Mordred muttered.

“You and Gawain prove it’s a shot that came be made,” Percival said. “I’m just not sure it’s wise to go mucking about with that type of instinct.”

“The computer is supplementary,” Gawain said, leaning around Mordred to glare at Percival. “Not the whole package. Now hush.”

If Isolde had heard their murmurs, she didn’t show it. Of course, they weren’t the only ones talking. Many of the pilots seemed dismayed to learn that their target was only two meters wide. Now more than ever they were glancing at Mordred and looking at him in awe. And why not? As far as they were concerned, this was an impossible shot and he was their savior. Why else would he be here but to ensure their success?

“Any questions?” Isolde asked, having finished with her part of the brief. No one spoke. “Then I leave this in your capable hands. Good luck. And may the force be with you.”

Percival whistled once Isolde had left and the rest of the pilots were filing out. “She couldn’t have planned that much better, could she?”

“You fell right in step with her, Percival,” a woman sitting on the other side of him said. “She’d have never dared dream that Mordred Pendragon himself would be flying on such a crucial mission. No matter what happens, this only works out well for her.”

“What do you mean, Ettard?” Gawain asked.

“Well, it doesn’t take a mind reader to know she’s never been keen on the prophecy,” Ettard said. “The fervent faith and loyalty many have for Arthur hobbles her as a leader. If this mission succeeds, then she can use Mordred to further her agenda. It was her plan that destroyed the Death Star—her foresight to use him in such a critical moment. People can put their faith in her because her actions are working in tandem with the prophecy and have brought us that much closer to saving Arthur.”

“And if we fail and Mordred dies?” Percival asked.

“The prophecy was bumpkin and it’s about time people finally got over it,” Ettard said.

“What a terrifying summary of events as they occurred,” Gawain said.

“Well, she’s the only founding member of the Round Table left standing for a reason,” Ettard said. “She may be ruthless, but she’s gotten us this far.”

“I don’t want to cause trouble,” Mordred said.  

“You didn’t,” Ettard said. “The prophecy did. You’re just stuck in the middle of it.”

“Come on,” Gawain said, clapping a hand on Mordred’s back. “We’ve still got a few hours before the Death Star arrives. We’re probably best served spending that time resting.”

“They’ve got a barracks set up for us near the hanger,” Ettard said.

“My room?” Gawain asked. He sounded devastated.

“Sorry,” Ettard said. “All packed up and shipped off. If you’re lucky one day, you may even be able to see it again.”

“Unlikely,” Gawain said. “Even if I survive this mission, I wouldn’t dare dream of receiving such good fortune.”

“It’s probably already been divvied up,” Percival said.

The banter continued to flow between Gawain, Percival, and Ettard as they left the Camelot. Mordred followed along behind him, unable to keep from dragging his feet. He would have dearly loved to spend more time on the Camelot. This was his father’s ship. Arthur Pendragon himself had stood on the bridge of this ship and defended the Republic from the Saxons. This ship had lived a history he had only heard of in bedtime stories. It wasn’t much, but it was a new way to connect with his father. Or would have been, if Mordred and the Camelot hadn’t been going in different directions.

The barracks were just off the hanger. A room lined with eighteen beds for each pilot staying behind. Mordred tried to ignore the eyes on him as Gawain picked a place for them near the door. Percival and Ettard seemed to settle down with ease and were fast asleep not long after. As he laid down on his own cot, Mordred found himself too restless to sleep. He dearly wanted to go back and explore the Camelot. Or to find Isolde and ask her if she had known his father personally. If these were to be his last few hours in the galaxy, Mordred wanted to spend them doing something more meaningful than resting.

“Dred?” Gawain asked and Mordred rolled over in his cot to face his eldest cousin. “You alright? I know we put you through a lot in one day.”

“It’s been a theme,” Mordred said. “I was just on the Camelot, Gawain. I received a briefing at the Round Table. This is the closest I’ve ever been to my father. An hour ago I would have done anything for the chance to help the rebellion. Now I would do anything to spend more time on the Camelot. To go through her old records and learn about Arthur that way.”

“Oh, Dred,” Gawain said. “There’s nothing there. The Camelot was hit with a virus just after the Emperor disbanded the Republic. All of her records were destroyed. There’s nothing of Uncle Arthur in there. Believe me, I looked.”

“Oh,” Mordred said, rolling onto his back. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. With the way things have been going, I should have expected that.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Gawain said. “You can still go with the Camelot. There may not be anything left, but it might be good for you to be there. To feel the scale of it.”

“I can’t go now, Gawain. If the chosen one dying is demoralizing, what do you think will happen if the chosen one runs away?”

“Percival told you not to worry about that. You need to do what’s right for you, Dred. And if you feel you’re jumping in to fast or have gotten in over your head, then there’s no shame in backing out and slowing down.”

“No, I think I’m supposed to be here,” Mordred said. “I feel like everything that’s happened over the past few days has been driving me to this moment.”

“Well, if isn’t that some high and mighty chosen one talk if I ever heard it,” Gawain muttered as he rolled over so his back was to his cousin. Mordred smiled as he closed his eyes and slowly his restlessness eased into sleep.

Chapter Text

The next thing Mordred knew, he was waking up to the sound of a siren blaring in the barracks. He opened his eyes and was immediately blinded by the bright lights of the room. Squinting as he sat up, Mordred turned his head to find Gawain already up and putting on his boots.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The Death Star’s finishing up its orbit of Dolorous Guard 3,” Gawain said. “This moon will be within range of the weapon in an hour. It’s time to go.”

Mordred scrambled to get his own boots on and then followed Gawain out of the barracks. A crew was waiting for them just within the hanger and they passed out an orange and white flight suit to every pilot who passed them by. Mordred took the one offered and then tried to follow Gawain’s example best he could as he pulled it on over his clothes. He needed a little help with all the straps and equipment, but soon he was suited up and Gawain was escorting him to his fighter.

Mordred slowed as they cross the hanger, his eyes lingering on the sight of the Savage Damsel surrounded by eighteen one-man ships. He caught sight of Lynette and Ax outside the ship and before he could stop himself he was heading towards them. He only managed to go a few steps before a cart cut in front of him and pulled up alongside the Damsel. Lynette and Ax paused in their packing as Isolde stepped out of the cart and approached them.

“Leaving, Captain Perilous?” Isolde asked.

“As opposed to sticking around here waiting for the planet to blow up?” Lynette asked. “Thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Well, it’s our hope that because of your efforts, it won’t come to that,” Isolde said. “But if you insist on going your own way, I won’t see you leave without a token of our gratitude.” She turned and motioned to six boxes on the back of the cart. “Thirty-thousand credits. We give it freely in thanks for all you’ve done. And, I hope, your continued silent support.”

Lynette went to the cart. She passed two boxes to Ax and then slowly and deliberately lifted a third off the cart. “Thanks, but I’m not interested in your bribery. My plan is to spend the rest of my days avoiding the Empire and putting this whole mess as far behind me as possible. And all I need to do that is the money I was promised for the job I did. Fifteen thousand. No more, no less.”

“Very honorable of you, Captain,” Isolde said. She nodded once to Lynette before returning to the cart and motioning for it to drive off.

Lynette scowled as her gaze follow Isolde’s cart across the hanger. As it drove past Mordred, her eyes settled on him and her face softened.

“You look good, puppy,” Lynette said as Mordred made his way over to her.

“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” Mordred asked.

“You’ve been busy,” Lynette said. “Stupidly, I heard and now see, preparing to join this suicide mission to destroy a space station the size of a small moon. Remember being on that thing, puppy? Remember how daunting it was?”

“It’s a good plan,” Mordred said. “I think we have a real chance here.”

“Well, if you change your mind in the next thirty seconds, there’s still a place for you on the Damsel,” Lynette said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I meant what I said earlier and you’ve done nothing to dissuade me from my original opinion. You’re good in a fight and have the makings of a decent pilot. You could make a home for yourself on the Damsel, if that’s what you wanted it.”

“And what about you?” Mordred asked. “After everything that’s happened—everything you’ve see—you don’t see yourself making a home for yourself in the rebellion?”

Lynette bit her lip. “I’m sorry, puppy. Maybe one day, but not now. I’ve got this debt hanging over my head and I can’t keep running from it. There’s too much…I just need to pay it and move on with my life. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” Mordred said. “I’ll miss you, Lynette.”

“You too,” Lynette said, squeezing his shoulder before turning away from him. Mordred turned away as well, his eyes scanning over the hanger for Gawain. He’d lost track of his cousin and now he didn’t know where his fighter was.

“Hey, Mordred,” Lynette said. It was hearing her use his name more than anything else that caused Mordred to look back at her. “May the force be with you. Or whatever.”

Mordred nodded to her. This time when he turned away, she didn’t call him back. Mordred made his way through the hanger trying to find Gawain and immediately ran into Gaheris. And not by accident if the way Gaheris had jumped out at him from under one of the fighters was any indication.

“Did you talk to her?” Gaheris asked.

“Who? Lynette?” Mordred asked. Gaheris nodded. “You haven’t?”

“No, I…I’m too angry she’s not staying, I guess,” Gaheris said. “How could she see everything she did on that station and not realize the importance of what we’re doing here?”

“That’s not fair,” Mordred said. “We don’t know anything about her life outside of this job. It’s not fair to ask her to walk away from that when we don’t know what she’s walking away from.”

“Don’t be naïve, Dred,” Gaheris said. “People don’t just get to have lives so long as that weapon exists. Not when the Empire has the power to destroy a whole planet with the push of a button.”

“What if she has family she needs to get back to, Gaheris?”

“What if she leads the Empire right to them?”

“Well I guess that’s her choice, isn’t it?” Mordred asked. Gaheris looked unconvinced. “Remember what your mother used to say? You can’t change people without their permission.”

“Yeah,” Gaheris said. “What I wouldn’t give to hear her say that to me right now.”

Mordred look away. He knew Gaheris hadn’t meant it that way, but that didn’t make it sting any less. He was the reason Morgause would never be reunited with her sons. Gaheris had every right to make snide remarks like that and the fact that he wasn’t somehow made it worse.

“Oh, Dred, I’m so sorry,” Gaheris said. “I didn’t—”

“I know,” Mordred said quickly. “I know that’s not what you meant.”

“It’s been a bad few days and I’m not thinking straight,” Gaheris said. “So before you head off to risk your life for the fate of the galaxy, I just want to make sure you know that I love you and you had better make it back here in once piece.”

“I will, Gaheris,” Mordred said, giving his cousin a hug. “I promise.”

“I’m holding you to it,” Gaheris said.

“There you are,” Gawain said, appearing beside them. “Where did you disappear off to?”

“I saw Lynette and wanted to say goodbye,” Mordred said, stepping away from Gaheris. “I tried to find you after but…”

Gawain frowned as Mordred trailed off and turned his attention to Gaheris. “What are you still doing here? I thought you were scheduled to leave with the Camelot.”

“I changed it,” Gaheris said. “I’m staying on as part of the ground team.”

“You’re what?” Gawain asked.

“Gawain—”

“No, Gaheris, you’re sick. The ground team can’t afford the distraction of you fainting in the middle of our assault on the Death Star. I don’t know what you hoped to accomplish with this act of stupidity, but I’m putting an end to it. I need you on the last transport out of here. Is that understood?”

“No,” Gaheris said. “I’m sorry Gawain and I don’t know what I hope to accomplish either. All I know is that I can’t exist in the same galaxy as that monstrosity. Either we stop it here and ensure it never destroys another planet ever again or I will be on the next planet it destroys. Understand?”

“Between you and Mordred I wish I didn’t have to,” Gawain said. “Fine. If the ground team is okay with you staying, there’s nothing I can do to make you leave. As much as I would like to.”

“What a rousing endorsement,” Gaheris muttered.

“Don’t be sour just because I’d rather see you safe,” Gawain said. Gaheris shrugged, dutifully accepting the reprimand. “Now I’m sure you’ve got places to be and I need to show Mordred to his ship.”

“May the force be with you both,” Gaheris said.

“We’re going to need it,” Gawain said, resting a hand on Mordred’s shoulder and hauling him off in what Mordred hoped was the direction of his ship. Although, considering the mood Gawain was in, it easily could have been in the direction of the last transport.

“Try to stay with me this time,” Gawain said, tightening his grip on Mordred’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” Mordred said. He did his best during the trek across the hanger to stay close enough to Gawain that his cousin didn’t have to reach very far to keep ahold of him. Finally Gawain came to a halt in front of an X-wing and Mordred couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. This was his ship. His very own ship.

“I pulled a few strings,” Gawain said, making his way to the ship. Mordred trotted along behind him and nearly ran into Gawain as he stopped underneath the wing. “Managed to land you the best co-pilot on the base.”

Mordred frowned. The X- and Y-wings were one man fighters. That was the point of this whole thing. So how could Gawain have possibly found him a co-pilot when there was only enough room on the X-wing for one person?

Hearing movement above him, Mordred stepped out from under the fighter’s wing to find a technician hooking something into the back of his ship. The technician turned and Mordred laughed in relief at the sight of AC-LN settled into a large port on the back of his X-wing.

“Commander Luddowc,” the technician said with a nod to Gawain. “Are you sure you want this droid in circulation? I know you asked for it specifically, but it’s pretty beat up sir.”

“I want it,” Mordred said. “After everything AC and I have been through, I couldn’t imagine flying with another.”

“You heard him,” Gawain said. The technician nodded and returned to wiring AC-LN into the X-Wing.

“Commander Luddowc!” someone yelled from across the hanger. “Sir, we need you!”

“Alright,” Gawain said, giving Mordred’s shoulder a squeeze. “Do good. I’ll see you up there.”

“Thanks Gawain,” Mordred said, not entirely sure his cousin had heard as he ran off to deal with whatever problem demanded his immediate attention.

“Hey!” a voice yelled. Mordred turned to see Percival jogging toward him, another pilot right on his heels.

“I wanted to introduce you to Mador la Porte,” Percival said.  “He’s going to be flying in our formation and it’s his job to look out for you. Call signs are Red Leader,” he motioned to himself, “Red Four,” Mador, “and Red Five.” Mordred nodded as Percival pointed to him. Red Five. He was Red Five.

“Stick with us and do what you did in the simulator and you should be just fine,” Percival said.

“Will we be making a run for the exhaust port?” Mador asked.

“Don’t know,” Percival said. “Gawain is in charge of that order and we only get to improvise if something happens to him. My hope is that he’ll take the first run and I’ll take the second if he fails. But if we need a third run, I want Mordred to take it. Mador, if I’m not there you get a formation together with the chosen one on point.”

“And if Gawain is there to argue?” Mador asked.

“You tell him he should have made the shot when he had the chance,” Percival said as another siren sounded. He clapped Mordred on the shoulder and he jogged past. “See you up there.”

“May the force be with you,” Mador said with a nod before going after Percival.

Mordred ascended up the ladder and jumped into the cockpit of his fighter. The technician behind him passed him his helmet.

“You alright there AC?” Mordred asked as he pulled on the helmet and strapped himself into the cockpit.

AC-LN let loose a series of whistles and buzzes and Mordred was surprised to see a translation pop up on one of the screens. His eyes widened at the colorful language AC-LN used to convey its excitement. He hadn’t even realized droids knew those words. Just how much had Dinadan been sanitizing his translations? Or as a droid designed for entertaining children, did he not even know?

“Glad to hear it,” Mordred said with a shake of his head.

Settling back in the cockpit, Mordred did one last sweep of the hanger. To his surprise, he found Dinadan standing by one of the walls. His internal lighting was orange—a sign of distress or a showing of solidarity with the pilots?

Mordred lifted a hand and waved at Dinadan. The droid perked up and jerkily waved back.

“It’ll be alright,” Mordred said, knowing fully well that Dinadan couldn’t hear him from across the hanger. He pressed a button him his control panel and the top of the cockpit slid closed above him and the technician climbed off and pushed the ladder away.

Suddenly he could smell spices in the cockpit and a warm wind tickled against his face.

“Yes it will,” a woman’s voice whispered in his ear.

Gaheris jerked to a stop at the entrance to the control room causing Dinadan to run into him.

“Terribly sorry, your highness,” Dinadan said. “But why have we stopped?”

They had stopped because the control room was nearly empty and Gaheris suddenly found himself wrestling with a burning anger at the sight of it. This didn’t even qualify as a skeleton crew. Isolde had left the bare minimum needed to supply any ground support to the fighters.

He had known this. Gaheris had known that she didn’t support the mission—didn’t think it had a chance of succeeding. It was one thing to know that and another to watch eighteen one-man fighters head off to attack something as large and deadly as the Death Star. It was one thing to know and another thing to walk into a nearly empty control room. It was one thing to know and another to live it.

“Nothing,” Gaheris said to Dinadan. “Sorry.”

He crossed the room and made his way to the hologram simulator. It would use the internal data reported by the fighters, satellite data, and audible reports to show them the fight against the Death Star as it played out. As Gaheris approached, one of the tacticians who would use the simulated data to report back to the fighters and help them change their strategy turned and bowed to Gaheris.

“Your highness,” he said. That brought Gaheris up short. He hadn’t expected anyone in the rebellion to address him by his honorific ever again. But looking around the room, he found every single person who had stayed behind bowing to him as well. The realization of what was happening nearly moved Gaheris to tears.

“You’re all Lothian,” Gaheris said, a lump building in his throat. How many? How many had survived the destruction of Lothian and now found themselves without a home? Was this everyone in the Rebellion? Or were there more like Gawain and Gareth who had left it so long ago they felt no personal sense of loss.

“Yes, highness,” the man said. “I know we can’t afford to lose any more of our people, but we had to stay.”

“You don’t need to explain yourselves,” Gaheris said. “Not to me. I’m here for exactly the same reason you are.”

“There are rumors,” a woman said softly, casting her eyes down as Gaheris glanced in her direction. “That you were on the Death Star when Lothian was destroyed. That you saw it happen.”

“I was,” Gaheris said, looking down as the woman had. It was a welcome to have his people here but it was also hard to face them. “I did. I tried to stop it but…they had already made up their minds. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. But they were so far away.”

“Don’t worry,” someone piped up from the back. “The Pendragon will stop it. He’ll avenge us.” There were nod and murmurs of affirmation throughout the room.

Oh, Mordred, Gaheris thought. Do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?

“Standby alert,” the computer announced. That seemed to bring everyone back to the task at hand. “Death Star approaching. Estimated time to firing range: 30 minutes.”

“Are we on schedule?” Gaheris asked. Thirty minutes didn’t seem like enough time to destroy something as large and as deadly at the Death Star. The tactician who had first greeted Gaheris nodded.

“It will take the fighters fifteen minutes to reach the Death Star and pass through the magnetic field. I’m afraid we can’t do much more than wait for them to reach it.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Gaheris asked. “We’ve left them fifteen minutes to make an impossible shot?”

“The computer calculates that gives them enough time to easily complete three runs,” the tactician said. “We can’t give them much more time than that or else we run the risk of the empire figuring out our plan and deciding not to fire the weapon. Also, with the amount of fighters we sent, the computer thinks we’ll be damn lucky to get in two complete runs.”

Gaheris shook his head, unable to believe what he was hearing. When he didn’t say anything, the tactician bowed again and returned his attention to the simulator.

Dinadan by his side, Gaheris stepped up to the simulator and looked down at the holo-images it was producing. Dolorous Guard 3 loomed largest in the size and compared to her moons, the Death Star wasn’t even that big. But it seemed monstrous compared to the tiny little lights that represented the fighters.

What had Percival gotten them into? How was this a plan? One man fighters engaging with something as destructive as the Death Star? Impossible. It was too big—too terrible. A fleet of Star Destroyers wouldn’t even be able to put a dent in it. What chance did a fleet of one-man fighters have?

Gaheris’ fingers curled around the edge of the simulator to keep his hands from shaking. He’d thought all he had left was anger. But with the Death Star looming large once more, his terror had returned with a vengeance. He had fought for this plan—argued for it with a passion unmatched. And now he didn’t believe it stood a chance of working.

“Standby alert. Death Star approaching. Estimated time to firing range: fifteen minutes.”

Chapter Text

“All right, boys and girls,” came Percival’s voice over the intercom as the computer announced the fifteen-minute warning. “This is your Red Leader reporting in and asking you to do the same.”

One by one each fighter in the Red Squad reported their call sign. Mordred didn’t recognize a single voice aside from Percival and Mador. The Green Squad, where Gawain and Ettard were, was on a completely different frequency. If Mordred understood the briefing correctly, Percival and Gawain could communicate with each other but the rest of the squads couldn’t. They were supposed to be working independently from one another and it wouldn’t do to have a red fighter flying to the defense of a green fighter and breaking formation. Supposedly the coms would open up if enough fighters were lost.

Mordred chimed in with ‘red five’ when it was his turn and then listened as the remaining four members of the Red Squad sounded off.

“We’re about to pass through the magnetic field, so I want S-Foils locked in attack position now,” Percival said.

“Now?” a woman’s voice asked as Mordred flipped the switch to open up the wings of the X-Wing. Red Three if he was remembering correctly.

“Yes now,” Percival said. “We’re hitt’n attack speed as soon as we’re through the field. You won’t have time on the other side.”

“But the risk of damage by the magnetic field—”

“We’re all about taking risks today,” Percival said. “So how about following orders for a change?”

Whether it was the choice to pull rank or the sudden turbulence caused by passing through the Death Star’s magnetic field, the argument ended there. Mordred’s grip tightened around the piloting yoke as the x-wing bounced up and down and the interior started to shake. An alarm started beeping on one of the panels—it wanted him to close the s-foils. Mordred thought he heard Red Three’s soft snort of disgust over the comm.

“Deflectors on, double front,” Percival said. He sounded nervous.

“Yes sir,” Red Three said, sounding smug.

“You put that attitude into the upcoming fight, Red Three, and you’ll be just fine,” Percival said as they came out of the magnetic field.

“Hells bells,” someone else said softly. “Look at the size of that thing.”

“Hold it together, Red Nine,” Percival snapped. “Accelerate to attack speed.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Percival pushed the accelerator forward so it was three fourths of the way to the X-Wing’s top speed. Behind him, the other eight X-Wings shot forward towards the Death Star. They spread out into their three smaller squads as they all closed in on the services trenches that were evenly spaced across the station’s hull. Green lights on his console indicated that the green squad was right behind red and moving into their own formations. Another light on the console flashed Percival reached out to flip the switch that would cut his communication with the rest of the red squad and instead give him a direct line to Gawain.

“Red Leader, this is Green Leader,” Gawain said. He sounded so professional and bored that Percival couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Copy, Green Leader,” Percival said, hoping his tone clearly conveyed how disgusted he was with Gawain right now.

“Green Three, Eight, and Nine are starting for the target shaft now.”

“Copy—wait? Not Leader, Four, and Five?” Percival asked. Panic started to swell within him. Gawain wanted send another team in first? There were three fighters capable of making the shot and outside of Gawain, neither of them was on the green squad.

“Green Eight has high proficiency marks in targeted assaults,” Gawain said.

“Yeah, well Green Eight is also a shitty pilot,” Percival said. He had no idea who Green Eight was, but since Isolde had given them the bottom of the barrel as far as pilots were concerned, Percival was confident in his assessment. “They’re never going to be able to make the shot if they can’t successfully navigate the trench.”

“These are orders, Red Leader,” Gawain said.

“And you don’t want to just ignore them since she’s not even in the system anymore?”

“If you want to go back to the planet—”

“Oh, shut up. Drawing fire.”

Percival flipped his communicator back over to the red squad before he pushed his yoke down and sent his fighter diving toward the Death Star. Red Four and Five dove with him.

“Red Team, this is Red Leader,” came Percival’s voice over the radio. Mordred tried to focus in on his voice, but it was hard with everything that was going on around him. Percival’s route had taken them directly against the hull of the Death Star and the canons had turned on them with a vengeance. It was next to impossible to maneuver, fire, and keep track of what Percival was saying.

“Green Three, Eight, and Nine are starting their attack run, which means that it’s up to us to clear a path for them. I want us going up and down the trench—one team down the middle and the remaining two on either side. Take out as many of those quad canons as you can down trench, then loop around and start again.”

“That should give us enough time for what, two loops with the green team running at half speed?” Red Three asked.

“That’s the hope,” Percival said. “Green Two, Six, and Seven will be covering us while Leader, Four and Five prep for the next run just in case.”

“You want us on point?” Red Three asked.

“Be my guest,” Percival said.

Mordred watched as three X-Wing fighters cut across the trench right in front of them before pulling parallel with the trench. Percival pulled their team off to the right when Red Two, Six, and Seven went to the left.

“Remember to stay low along the hull,” Percival said. “This thing wasn’t designed to fire on itself and that’s our best advantage.”

Stay low, stay low, stay low, Mordred told himself over and over again. It was easier said than done as the surface of the Death Star wasn’t exactly flat. The laser towers and other structures littered the surface and so far, he had found it easier to lift away from the hull in order to avoid a structure than to dodge around it. Too much of a risk of dodging into something.

“Red Five, the tower dead ahead,” Mador said and Mordred turned his attention away from the immediate problem of dodging around structures to the looming problem of the laser tower he was rapidly closing in on. “Are you up for it?”

“Yes,” Mordred said quickly. He flipped a few switches and locked his own weapons into the tower. He waited until he was close enough to be certain of a hit and then fired on the tower.

Too late he realized his mistake as the direct hit caused the tower to explode—with his fighter on a collision course with the explosion.

“Pull up!” Mador yelled and Mordred did as he was told—risking altitude for the promise of immediate survival. AC-LN let out a series of shrieks as bits of debris pelted his fighter, but in the end a quick survey of his systems showed no damage.

“Are you all right” Mador asked. He sounded shaken.

“Fine,” Mordred said quickly, feeling stupid. In hindsight waiting so long to fire was clearly a stupid decision. “Sorry.”

“So there’s still a bit of a learning curve,” Percival said. “Just learn fast and you’ll be fine.”

Ursus could feel her. Morgause was close by. His human hand curled into a tight fist as he tried to get a more accurate read on her. It didn’t feel as though she was on the planet. She felt closer. Perhaps she was still on the Death Star. Perhaps she had stayed behind when the cargo ship escaped. Oh, how dearly he wanted to tear this station apart looking for her.

“Enough of that,” Tiberius said from his place next to Ursus. They stood by the window of the weapon’s control room. Tiberius was waiting anxiously for the Death Star to complete its orbit around Dolorous Guard 3 so the 3-1 moon would finally be in range. He had ordered Ursus to stay with him. A waste of time, as far as Ursus was concerned. Who gave a damn about the planet when Morgause was still on the Death Star?

“Enough of what?” Ursus asked.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking about that’s riling you up,” Tiberius said. “I don’t have time right now for you to start choking out the technicians.”

“I have better things I could be doing,” Ursus said.

“We are about to witness the end of the Rebellion,” Tiberius said. “There is nothing else worth doing.”

“Lord Tiberius,” a voice said and both Ursus and Tiberius turned to see an officer approaching them. And not one of the ones stationed in the weapon’s control room.

“Eighteen rebel ships have engaged the Death Star,” the officer said.

Tiberius frowned. He looked back out the window before returning his attention to the officer as he motioned to it. “I see no ships.”

“Eighteen one-man fighters,” the officer amended.

“One-man…” Tiberius said as he began to laugh. “Is this the Rebellion’s idea of a joke or an insult? Although I’m not sure why I should care either way.”

“They’re so small the Death Star’s weapons have proven to be entirely ineffective against them.”

“Then its good fortune their weapons are equally ineffective against the Death Star,” Tiberius said before once again breaking into laughter.

“Send out a crew of our own fighters,” Ursus said.

“Oh, must we?” Tiberius asked. “It’s not as though they’re causing any harm. Let them have their fun before we destroy them.”

“And just how do you intend to destroy them?” Ursus asked. “Do you think they’ll willingly fly back down to the moon before we fire the weapon in the name of convenience? If the Death Star’s defenses are useless against them, the TIE fighters are our only means of destroying them before they escape.”

“Oh, very well,” Tiberius said with a sigh. “But make sure it’s a small crew. I see no sense in wasting resources on something so frivolous.”

“Yes, Grand Moff,” the officer said with a bow before leaving.

“Of course the Rebels would find a way to be difficult,” Tiberius said as he turned back to the window. “Facing certain doom, you’d think they’d learn to just roll over and die.”

It was going well. Too well. Gawain should have known it wouldn’t last. He had a handful of barely competent pilots and somehow not one of them had managed to blow up yet. Oh, there had been some close calls, but the Red Team was making short work of the laser towers around the trench and Green Three, Eight, and Nine had a clear run to the exhaust port and it was even starting to look like they would make it unscathed. Sure, it was slow going because, again, barely competent pilots, and they only had about ten minutes before the Death Star was in firing range of Dolorous Guard 3-1, but no one was dead yet and that was probably the most important part.

“Team leaders,” came an unfamiliar voice over the radio. One of the technicians who had stayed behind to monitor their progress. “We’ve picked up a new group of signals. Enemy fighters coming your way.”

Gawain closed his eyes and allowed himself just a moment of despair. This was the bad news he’d been waiting for. Poorly designed towers his team could handle but enemy fighters would chew them apart.

“I’m not picking up anything,” Percival said.

The Red Team was too close to the Death Star. Their scanners wouldn’t have a clear signal. Gawain was high enough that his scanner was picking up the six incoming fighters just fine.  

“They’re coming in from above,” Gawain said as he changed his course to intercept. “We’re going to try to cut them off, but Red Leader, I want your team to scatter. Get away from the trench.”

“What about Green Three, Eight, and Nine? They’re still in the middle of their attack run.”

Gawain shook his head. There was nothing the Red Team could do for the squad in the trench now. They weren’t good enough pilots. If the TIE fighters went after them, no amount of cover the Red Team could provide would be enough to save them. They’d simply be destroyed in the progress.

“Subterfuge is their best chance now,” Gawain said. “Hopefully the TIE fighters scanners are as scrambled as yours and they won’t notice the team in the trench. But you have to pull away now.”

Percival’s cursing was cut off as he switched his radio back over to his team. Gawain did the same.

“Green Three, we have enemy fighters coming in from above,” Gawain said.

“I’m not seeing anything on my scanner,” Green Three said.

“No, you wouldn’t, too much interference,” Gawain said. “I’ve ordered the Red Team away. They’ve cleared enough of the towers so you should have a clear shot to the exhaust port.”

“What about the fighters?” Green Three asked.

“Leave that to us,” Gawain said.

“Pull out and scatter,” Percival barked over the radio.

“What?” Red Three asked.

“Fighters coming in, those are orders.”

Mordred followed Percival’s fighter as he veered off to the right, away from the trench. He had just enough time to worry about the three fighters in the trench—what were they going to do without the X-Wings to cover them?—before the unfamiliar terrain of the Death Star became so complicated Mordred didn’t have the bandwidth to focus on anything beyond navigating it.

“Pull away, Red Five,” Mador said. “Give yourself some room to maneuver. It will make it easier for help to come if a TIE fighter tails you.”

“Is there any sort of line I’m supposed to be following?” Mordred asked. He veered off away from Percival and saw Mador’s ship moving in the opposite direction.

“Just don’t stray too far,” Mador said. “And above all else, remember…”

“Stay low, I know,” Mordred said.

“You’re doing just fine, Red Five.”

“Three managed to clear the Green Team,” Percival said. “Red Three, they’re heading right for your team. Pull off from the trench.”

“We’re trying!” Red Three said. “They’re coming in too fast! We need help!”

“On my way, Red Three,” said a voice Mordred didn’t recognize. “Hold tight.”

“I’ve got one right on me,” another voice said.

“Hold tight, Red Eight, help is on the way,” Percival said.

“No, I can’t, I’m hit!” Red Eight yelled. This pronouncement was followed by a burst of static and then silence as Red Eight’s fighter disappeared from Mordred’s readout. His breath hitched. He hadn’t thought they’d lose someone so soon.

“Another two broke through the Green Team,” Percival said.

“What are they even doing up there?” Mador demanded.

“That’s the question for the hour isn’t it?” Percival said as his ship circled around and headed back toward the trench. “Come on. We’re not doing anyone any good on this side of the trench.”

Mordred and Mador followed suit, circling their ships around and heading straight towards the dogfights taking place on the other side of the trench. They lost two more fighters before their squad could join the fray. The three fighters immediately broke their formation, going after the dogfights where they would be able to do the most good.

Either the TIE fighters weren’t expecting such a swift retaliation or Mordred was as good of a pilot as Percival had made him out to be. He had started to wonder in the midst of flying right up against the Death Star if he wasn’t just holding Percival and Mador back. But as soon as he locked onto the TIE fighter chasing Red Seven and fired, he immediately felt his confidence buoyed as the fighter exploded. If he could handle the enemy fighters without breaking a sweat, he was probably doing just fine.

“Thanks Red Five,” Red Seven as her fighter circled back around his.

“Red Leader, the squad in the trench!” Red Three yelled.

Mordred glanced down at his readout. Sure enough, the remaining TIE fighter had broken through the Green Team and was now flying above the trench. Two Y-Wings were right on its tail and Mordred silently willed them to get there in time and stop the inevitable.

Gawain cursed as the remaining TIE fighter broke through the ranks of two squads of fighters and spiraled down towards the Death Star. Damn Isolde for sending them out with the bottom of the barrel. Somehow, they were doing more damage to each other than the Death Star or the TIE fighters. There hadn’t been any loses to friendly fire yet, but the near collision misses had allowed all six TIE fighters to get past them and go after the Red Team.

Well, five TIE fighters. Instead of going after the X-Wing fighters like all the others had done, the sixth one headed straight for the trench.

“Green Two, with me,” Gawain said. Ettard was the only one he trusted to make this run with him. The others would just get in the way.

“What about us?” Green Four asked.

“Stay up here and alert us if there are any more incoming fighters,” Gawain said before he sent his fighter into a dive, Ettard right behind him.

“But the Red Team—”

“Are doing just fine on their own. Let’s not cut in unless they ask us to.”

That wasn’t strictly true. The Red Team had already lost three fighters, so it wasn’t as though they were doing just dandy on their own. But from the readout it didn’t appear as though they were just narrowly missing colliding with each other, which was more than he could say for the Green Team. The Read Team would stand a better chance on their own without the Green Team’s assistance.         

“Green Three, what’s your status,” Gawain barked as he pulled up just above the trench—level with the TIE fighter that was after the team down there. Ettard settled in beside him.

“Green Eight has a lock on the exhaust port with the targeting computer and we’re closing in.”

“Well close in a little faster,” Gawain said. “You’ve got a fighter on your tail and I’m not sure Green Two and I will be able to take it out in time. Especially not when you’re moving at half-speed.”

“But Sir, any faster and we greatly decrease the computer’s likelihood of hitting the target.”

“And if you stay at that pace you’re going to completely decrease that likelihood because you’ll be dead,” Gawain snapped. “Move it!”

To his relief, all three fighters picked up their speed. That relief was short lived as it became apparent how ill-equipped they were at flying so fast in such a narrow space. Green Nine immediately clipped the side of the trench and it was a miracle he didn’t go spinning out of control into the other two fighters.

“That’s it, you’re pulling out of range,” Gawain said, figuring it was better to stay positive. “Now just—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish as the TIE fighter fired on Green Nine. The Y-Wing burst into flames and crashed down into the floor of the trench. Gawain cursed and fired uselessly at the TIE Fighter. They were still too far out of range to do any damage to it.

“Green Leader, what do we do?” Green Three asked. She sounded panicked. Gawain didn’t blame her. She had to know there was nothing he or Ettard could do to help.

“We should pull out,” Green Eight said.

“Negative, Green Eight,” Green Three said before Gawain could recommend they do just that. But his heart swelled with pride at Green Three’s remarks. She knew it was hopeless and she wasn’t willing to give up. That was just the sort of attitude they needed right now.

“But we can’t maneuver,” Green Eight said.

“Green Three, pull back a bit,” Gawain said. “Make yourself a more enticing target and give Green Eight a chance to pull out of range.”

He watched on his radar as Green Three’s speed began to decrease and Green Eight began to pull away. For a moment he thought they had this and then the TIE Fighter fired on Green Eight. Gawain’s heart sank as the burnt out husk of the fighter broke apart, leaving Green Three alone in there with the TIE fighter right above her.

Ettard fired on TIE fighter and managed to clip its wing with enough force that it was knocked askew and lost speed. Her next hit was true and the TIE fighter was blown apart. Ahead of them, Green Three rose up out of the trench.

“Sorry, Green Leader,” she said.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Green Three,” Gawain said. “Green Four and Five, get down here. It’s time for our attack run.”

Chapter Text

“Grand Moff, Lord Ursus.”

Tiberius closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten. All he wanted to do was watch the destruction of the rebellion in peace. Was that too much to ask? Just some peace, quiet, and an unobstructed view. That was all he wanted. A small thing, really.

Next to him Ursus turned—Tiberius could the robotics of his machine half whirling as he moved. He had to assume the turn included a motion to continue because the technician began to speak again.

“We’ve analyzed their attack strategy, my lord, and I’m afraid they may be onto something.”

“What?” Tiberius asked in disbelief, opening his eyes and turning to face the technician. “What possible danger could eighteen one-man fighters pose to a battle station of this size?”

“The thermal exhaust ports, sir,” the technician said. “For the weapon. If they manage to collapse one the weapon will overheat when it’s fired. It could easily destroy the whole station.”

“You can’t truly believe that’s what the rebels are after,” Tiberius said.

“Three fighters were flying down a maintenance trench heading right for one of the exhaust ports,” Ursus said. His eyes were on a tablet in his hand. The technician must have given it to him. “They’re all carrying torpedoes.”

“But the exhaust ports can’t be more than a couple meters across,” Tiberius said. “That’s an impossible shot.”

“A near impossible shot,” Ursus said. “But I fear it’s not one beyond their capability. I would like to see to the handling of this personally, Grand Moff. I believe it is in our best interest.”

“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t,” Tiberius said. “We already destroyed nearly a third of their force. It won’t take much more to finish the rest of them off. There’s no reason for you to go out there and foolishly risk your own life.”

“No,” Ursus said. “I sense Morgause’s hand in this. This station will be destroyed if I am not allowed to stand against her.”

Tiberius frowned. Something about the last few days had clearly knocked a screw loose in Ursus’ interface. He was distracted and far too focused on long dead ghosts of his past. Tiberius would have to send him back to the Emperor to get that sorted out. But for now, Tiberius had no option but to let Ursus have his way. Off his leash, Ursus could kill them all as an afterthought. Tiberius had no wish to test the Emperor’s conditioning—not when it was already proving tenuous at best.

“Very well,” Tiberius said. “See to it.”

Ursus nodded as he passed the tablet back to the technician and swept out of the room.

“I would like a visual of this firefight,” Tiberius said.

“Of course, sir,” the technician said, leading him over to one of the holographic tables. A few quick keystrokes was all it took for a hologram of a small subsection of the Death Star to appear—complete with small fighters moving back and forth across it. Almost all were rebel fighters. Only two of the six TIE fighters Tiberius had initially sent had survived this long. It would have been impressive if it hadn’t been so annoying.

“Do you require anything else, sir?” the technician asked.

“No,” Tiberius said with one last forlorn look back at his window before he focused all of his attention back on the hologram. “No. This will do for now.”   

“Uh, Gawain,” Percival said as he zipped over and around the hull of the Death Star. There were still two TIE fighters in play and Percival was having a hard time deciding if he wanted to go after them or take his squad and head straight for the trench. “You do realize that we only have enough time for two more runs.”

“I can make the shot, Percival,” Gawain said. His tone didn’t leave a lot of room for argument. Percival figured it was worth arguing anyway.

“We stay out here much longer and they’re just going to keep sending more TIE fighters after us. We lost five of our fighters to six of theirs. What happens when the next wave is double that?”

“I can make the shot.”

“Why would you want to gamble right now when we’ve only got five minutes till the Death Star clears the planet? Why not use our surest option before things get really bad?”

“I can make the shot!” Gawain yelled.

“Fine,” Percival said, knowing there was nothing else he could do. So long as the Green Team outnumbered the Red, Gawain remained in charge.

“Six more fighters incoming,” a voice said. It had to be another member of the ground team.

“Great,” Percival muttered, switching his radio back over to the Red Team.

This time the Green Team dove down to the hull of the Death Star and joined the Red Team as they zigged and zagged around the protruding structures. Green Four and Five broke away from the main group and joined Gawain down in the trench while Green Two rejoined her squad in the dogfight.

“Red Five, watch your back!” Mador yelled, immediately catching Percival’s attention.

“What?” Mordred asked.

“Right above you! Move!”

Maneuvering his fighter around, Percival watched as Mordred’s fighter tried to pull out of the way as the TIE fighter fired on him. There was a flash and a burst of static. Percival jammed his yoke forward and sent his fighter racing off in Mordred’s direction.

“Red Five!” he yelled.

“I’m fine,” Mordred said. “I took some damage, but AC-LN says it can fix it.”

“There’s still a fighter closing in on your location,” Mador said. “Can anyone get to Red Five.”

“I’m on it,” Percival said, his eyes catching sight of three TIE fighters in a tight formation as he flew across the hull. They weren’t engaging in any of the firefights and their close formation looked more like a protection detail than anything designed for combat. Something didn’t seem right there and with a flip of switch Percival opened all of the comm lines among the fighters.

“Green Two,” he barked.

“Red Leader,” she said. If she was surprised to be hearing from him with so many fighters still left in the fight, she wasn’t showing it.

“You see the three TIE fighters in the tight formation?” Percival asked.

“I do.”

“Why don’t you take your squad and go see what you’re up to,” Percival said. “Something about the way they’re flying isn’t sitting right with me.”

 “Roger Red Leader,” Ettard said as her squad pulled out of the dogfight and made for the three TIE fighters flying above them.

That taken care of, Percival once again focused all of his attention of Mordred’s plight. The kid was damn good—weaving in and around structures like he had been born with a yoke in his hand. The TIE fighter had been lucky to get a shot on him at all. It wouldn’t get lucky again.

Mordred took a hard turn around one of the structures, unknowingly sending his fighter in Percival’s direction. Percival changed his course just enough to make it an intercept. His yoke was loose in his hand. This was going to take a bit of finessing and he didn’t want to overthink it before it was time to move.

Mordred’s fighter flew by him and Percival jerked his yoke to the side—sending his fighter spinning into the space between Mordred’s fighter and the TIE fighter. He fired away as he completed his tight circle. His shot went right down the middle of the TIE fighter, blowing it apart in a perfect circle. Percival smirked as his ship rightened itself just past the explosion and continued on his way.

“Oh, you’re insane,” Mordred said. He sounded out of breath. Nothing like a near collision to get the heart going.

“You have to be out here,” Percival said.

“Thanks,” Mordred said and Percival could tell the kid meant it.

Percival frowned as he looked back over his readout. The remaining TIE fighters were pulling away from them. They were going up—toward Ettard and her squad. Meanwhile, the three fighters they were chasing had just taken a dive into the trench.

Gawain flipped a switch on his console, bringing out the targeting computer.  He shifted in his seat so one eye was looking through the computer as it counted down the kilometers to the exhaust port. Or at least it should have been counting down to the exhaust port. Instead the numbers were fluctuating. Wildly. Of course, the targeting computer’s usefulness had been a gamble from the start. Gawain best chance was to use the computer to get him close and then eyeball the shot.

“I don’t see anything,” Green Five said.

“What about fighters?” Gawain asked. “Do you see those? Because that’s what you’re supposed to be looking for.”

“I’m not picking anything up on my scanner,” Green Four said. “There’s too much interference.”

“Green Team, what’s the status of the TIE fighters?” Gawain asked. “Are they all accounted for or are there some we need to worry about?”

“Three have taken position above the trench,” Ettard said. That must have been the three Percival had been squawking about. “We’re moving to intercept.”

“Where above?” Green Five asked. “I don’t see anything,”

Surprising no one, Gawain thought. It wasn’t a fair thought. These fighters didn’t deserve to be out here. Isolde had sent them on a suicide mission and there was nothing Gawain could do to save them. He needed help of his own right now and the fighters provided were only serving as a hindrance.

“Right above you,” Ettard said.

She must have fired her weapons because Gawain caught sight of the lasers flashing above him. Ettard wouldn’t have been shooting to hit—she was simply trying to drive the TIE fighters backwards. A noble effort that Gawain didn’t think was going to do much good.

“Faster,” he said, increasing the speed of his fighter.

“Faster?” Green Five sputtered. “We’re already going above the recommended speed for the targeting computer and if we keep pushing it, we won’t be able to maneuver around the trench.”

“I’m going faster,” Gawain said firmly. He didn’t have time to argue the details of this plan. “Follow if you want.”

“Hurry, hurry,” Ettard said as Green Four and Five picked up their speed. “The TIE fighters are diving.”

“They’re coming into the trench?” Gawain asked, unable to believe what he was hearing. There were very few advantages to the TIE fighters entering the trench and many, many disadvantages. For one Ettard’s squad would now be above them with room to maneuver and easy shots to make.

“Heads up, Green Two,” Percival yelled. “Every single remaining TIE fighter is heading your way.”

“What?” Ettard asked. “Hold them off!”

“We can’t, look out!” Percival yelled. There was a small burst of static and Gawain looked down at his readout to see that Green Seven had disappeared from the field.

“Get out of there, Ettard,” Gawain said, “there’s nothing you can do.”

“I’m sorry Gawain,” Ettard said as her fighter and Green Six began to pull away from the trench. There was another burst of static and Green Six also disappeared from the readout.

Now Gawain supposed that the TIE fighters plan to join them in the trench was looking better and better. With no rebel fighters above them, they had a clear path to the squad in the trench. With a straight track and no room to maneuver, the TIE fighters wouldn’t have any trouble picking off Gawain or his team.

They were suddenly in dire straits and the exhaust port was still so far away. 

“Red Leader, Green Leader is in need of immediate assistance,” a technician across the table from Gaheris said.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Percival snapped.

Gaheris closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, silently seething. Was it too much to ask for Percival to take this seriously? Right in the middle of the fight for their lives wasn’t exactly the most opportune time to up the sarcasm.

There was a burst of static and Gaheris opened his eyes in time to see another ship disappear from the readout. Red Seven. Not counting Gawain’s three in the trench and the three TIE fighters behind him, that left seven rebel fighters to deal with four TIE above the hull of the Death Star.

Though outnumbered, these TIE fighters were clearly in a class above the six that had initially been sent out. They zigged and zagged across the hull of the Death Star, expertly avoiding shots as the rebel fighters gave chase. The only bright spot on the entire map was Red Four and Five. They had managed to cut one TIE fighter off from the rest. Red Four’s speed picked up and his ship moved to pull ahead of the TIE fighter. It would last much longer with two rebel fighters on either side of it.

Suddenly, Red Three broke away from the rest and turned down the length of the trench. She must have had her engines at full throttle because she was rapidly gaining on the fighters in the trench.

The effect on the remaining TIE fighters was instantaneous. They all broke away from their skirmishes with the remaining rebel fights to go after Red Three. Even the one in between Red Four and Five tried to make an escape to its detriment. Dire as things were, Gaheris couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at seeing another TIE fighter disappear from the board.

“After them,” Green Two ordered and she, Green Three, and Red Two turned and raced after the TIE fighters. Red Four and Five began to turn as well.

“Hold on Red Four and Five,” Percival said. “We’ll hold our position here.”

Gaheris looked around the room to see if anyone would override Percival’s orders. No one did. Gaheris wanted to. He wanted to have faith that Gawain would make the shot and exit the trench unscathed. But they all knew that they needed to prepare for the worst.

“But they’ll need our help,” Mador said.

“Green Two, Three, and Red Two can handle this,” Percival said. “We need to be ready for our own attack run if it comes to it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Red Leader,” Gawain said. He was trying to sound cavalier but Percival could tell panic was starting to set in. The three TIE fighters behind them were closing in fast. Red Three was gaining on them, but then so were the TIE fighters behind her. 

“Prove me wrong,” Percival said without even a little bit of confidence.

There was a burst of static in his ear and Percival started, looking down at his readout to see who was gone. Green Five. He hadn’t even screamed.

“I can’t hold them,” Green Four said. “Can you let it loose?”

“Not yet,” Gawain said.

“I’m on it Green Leader, hold tight,” Red Three said.      

“We should be over there helping,” Mador said.

“No,” Percival said. It was hard and he didn’t like having to say it. But Percival knew in his bones that Gawain wasn’t going to make the shot and a part of him hated Gawain for wasting time and fighters making this stupid, worthless run. He could feel it—almost like a tuning fork causing his bones to vibrate. Mordred was the only one who could make the shot. So Percival was going to do everything in his power to make sure Mordred had a chance to take one final run. Even if that meant abandoning the others.

Even from this distance and angle he could see Red Three taking shots down at the trench. Something must have happened because she whooped with excitement and even Gawain cheered.

“One down, two to go!” Red Three said with a laugh.

One of the TIE fighters behind her fired and the blast hit her ship. A part of her ship exploded although it otherwise remained whole and intact.

“Get out of there, Red Three,” Ettard said. “There’s nothing more you can do.”

“No, I just lost my main engine. I… I think I did just fine, Red Leader.”

“Me too,” Percival said. Then he watched as Red Three’s ship turned and dove rapidly into the trench. There was a burst of static and then nothing.

The explosion from Red Three’s crash into the trench very nearly sent the two remaining TIE fighters spinning out of control. Gawain watched as they swung back and forth on his readout. It took them a moment to righten themselves and both Gawain and Green Four took that opportunity to pull farther away from them.

“Almost there,” Gawain whispered, more to himself than anyone else. The computer still didn’t have a clear read on the exhaust port, but the distance remaining was fluctuating less wildly now that he was closing in. He tried to watch both the targeting computer with one eye and the trench before him with the other, hoping he would be able to see the exhaust port in time to make the shot.

“They’re closing back in,” Green Four said. “Green Two, what’s your status?”

“They’ve looped around and are driving us away from the trench again,” Ettard said. “We can’t hold position.” There was a burst of static in Gawain’s ear but he didn’t dare look down to see who else was gone. “We just lost Red Two.”

“We’re trying to stay with you, but we’re not going to be able to do much good,” Green Three said. “You have to take the shot, Green Leader.”

“Almost…” Gawain whispered.

“Take the shot!” Green Four yelled. “They’re right on top of us! I can’t—”

Static.

Gawain’s breath hitched at the realization that he was all alone in the trench with two TIE fighters and no one to cover him. His panic was short lived as the targeting computer began flashing. He was here. He had reached his destination and he could see it. The exhaust port was just ahead of him. Gawain gunning his ship to full speed and fired his torpedoes just before he was on top.

“Torpedoes fired!” Gawain yelled as he pulled his ship up out of the trench. There was an explosion and his heart sank. Too soon. They hadn’t gone in.

“Contact?” someone from the ground crew asked.

“No,” Gawain said. “It hit the trench. It didn’t go in.”

His readout screen started flashing. Gawain looked down, expecting to see the TIE fighters right on top of him. Instead he watched as they looped up out of the trench and headed straight for Green Two and Three.

“Green Two, fighters heading in your direction!” Gawain yelled, turning his ship around to go after them. He watched ahead of them as Ettard managed to dart out of the way as the two fighters closed in. Green Three wasn’t so lucky. Realizing that it had no chance of catching Ettard, the lead TIE fighter turned on Green Three. It fired once and with a burst of static Green Three was gone.

This was it. Five rebel fighters remained against five TIE fighters. And they only had enough time for one more run.

“Two minutes until the Death Star clears the planet.”

Chapter Text

“Alright, now that stupid’s run its course,” Percival snarled as he began flipping switches to prepare for the run that would hopefully take care of things once and for all. “Red team’s taking its run and I swear to all powers on high, Gawain, if you argue with me I’ll blow you out of the stars myself.”

“Sounds fair,” Gawain said. He sounded harried. Good. Maybe he had finally learned his lesson.

“Alright, formation shift,” Percival said. “Red Five, I want you on point. Red Four and I will cover you.”

“Percival,” Gawain warned. Clearly he hadn’t learned his lesson, then.

“Gawain, we’ve got one last shot at this and I’m not wasting it on our second-best chance,” Percival snapped. “Red Five, front and center.”

“Roger, Red Leader,” Mordred said. He, at least, sounded calm and collected. Percival hoped it lasted.

“Good, switch,” Percival said. He swung his ship around in an arc up and around their formation as Mordred’s ship gunned forward and took the lead position. Percival fell back into Mordred’s spot and together the three ships dove towards the trench.

“As soon as we’re in, I want us at full speed,” Percival said. “Let’s see if we can give those fighters a run for their money.”

“Cue mandatory complaints about how the computer won’t be able to get a lock,” Mador said. “Mordred will have to eyeball it.”

“What do you say, chosen one? You feel up for that?” Percival asked.

“Percival,” Gawain said again and he was damn lucky Percival was too far away to take a shot at him.

“Gawain, it’s fine,” Mordred said. “I’m sure we’ve done crazier things on the water.”

“Are you now?” Gawain asked.

But there was no answer to that question. Their small trio had finally reached the trench and there was no more time for banter. From here on out all their focus would be getting Mordred to the exhaust port so he could take the shot. They passed a couple tower guns as they went, but the Red Team had done a good job clearing them out on the initial run. The real threat was going to come up from behind them.

“I can’t get a reading on the exhaust port,” Mador said as their ships finally settled into formation. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so cavalier mocking the effect speed would have on the targeting computer.”

“A little late to be worrying about that, isn’t it?” Mordred asked.

 “Red Four, stay far enough back from Red Five so we don’t hit him when we explode,” Percival said.

“I still have no readings on the exhaust port,” Mador said. “Will Mordred be able to get close enough to see it without the computer to guide us?”

“Mador, lay off,” Percival ordered. “Let him figure out on his own if he can hit the port or not. We’ve got fighters to worry about.”

“Red Leader,” came Gawain’s voice over his radio. “We’ve got two fighters closing in on your location.”

“Roger, Green Leader,” Percival said. He leaned forward as far as his safety straps would allow and tried to look through the window of his cockpit. Sure enough, two TIE fighters were swooping around the hull of the Death Star towards the trench. Percival watched them until they disappeared behind them, then he settled back in his seat and looked down at his readout as they joined the three X-Wings in the trench. The TIE fighters were staying a good ways back – likely they didn’t want to get caught in the backlash of any of the damage they caused.

“Red Four, stay with Red Five,” Percival said as he flipped a couple switches, decreasing his speed and letting his X-Wing drop back. He was going to put as much distance between Mordred and the TIE fighters as possible. It wouldn’t buy them a lot of time, but maybe it could buy them just enough time.

“Red Leader…” Mador started, but there was nothing to say. They all had jobs to do. Mador’s was to protect Mordred at all costs and it seemed that Percival’s was to make whatever sacrifice was needed to give them more time. If it stopped the Death Star, he would gladly make it.

Now a fair distance away from them, Percival began to ever so slightly twitch his yoke back and forth, sending his X-Wing swaying side-to-side along the width of the trench. The TIE fighters would have to hit him if they wanted a chance at Mordred or Mador and Percival intended to make it as difficult to hit him as possible.

The volley of shots came from the both fighters. They knew what he was doing and had decided to sacrifice precision in the hopes of doing away with Percival as quickly as possible. Percival swung his fighter back and forth as quickly as he could, trying to make himself as difficult a target as possible in a space that didn’t give him a lot of room to maneuver.

He lasted longer than he had ever thought possible, but he had always known that he couldn’t last forever. The shot hit his X-Wing just as he tried to swerve back in the opposite direction. Percival yelled as his ship shuddered and he felt the yoke try to swing back in the opposite direction. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled it back into the center, desperately trying to keep his ship stable.

The TIE fighters pulled further back. They knew he was done for and it was just a question of how long it would take for him to spin out and which direction he would go when he finally lost control of his ship.

“I’m hit!” Percival yelled. He tried to decrease his speed to join the TIE fighters but he didn’t have the strength to hold onto his yoke with just one hand. “I’ve lost my stabilizer.”

“Get out of here,” Mador said.

“I can take them out with me,” Percival said, trying to turn his ship in the direction of the TIE fighters. It he could just ensure that when his ship spun out it would spin into them, Percival could die happy.

Mordred felt his chest tighten at Percival’s announcement. The Red Leader was done for. Percival was going to die. It was one thing to see nameless, faceless fighters go down in flames. But Mordred knew and liked Percival. He didn’t want the other man to die. Not like this. Not as a worthless sacrifice that wouldn’t even gain them that much.

“You could just as easily end up spinning out into us,” Mador said. “Leave now, Red Leader. You’re of no further use to us.”

Percival roared in frustration but Mordred watched on his readout as the Red Leader rose up out of the trench.

“Red Five,” Mador said. A firm reminder that Percival was not supposed to be Mordred’s first, second, or even third concern.

Mordred tipped his head to the side to look through the targeting computer once more. His small hope that perhaps something had changed in the few seconds he had taken his attention off of it proved futile. The numbers on the targeting computer were still fluctuating up and down wildly even as Mordred’s fighter closed in rapidly on the exhaust port. The computer didn’t have a clear read on it. If Mordred tried to fire on the target without a lock… The missiles were unlikely to land even with the targeting computer locked on. They were never going to get through without one.

You know what to do, nephew. That’s what Aunt Morgan would have said if she was here. Maybe she had just said it. It certainly sounded like her whispering in his ear. And Mordred did know what he needed to do. He just wasn’t willing to admit it yet. He’d only spent a couple days learning the ways of the force with Aunt Morgan and he hadn’t made anything resembling progress. Now was the absolutely wrong time to put that training to the test.

And yet, what choice did he have? The computer couldn’t hit it. Mordred knew that for certain. For there to be any hope of success, he had to use the force.

Mordred flipped a button on his control console, causing the targeting computer to flip up and out of his way. Drawing in deep breaths through his nose, Mordred tried to focus on nothing and darkness and being a vessel while stuck inside a vessel that was careening through a death trench. Not an easy feat—especially when he’d never even managed to master this particular skill while standing still.

“Red Five, what’s wrong?” came Gaheris’ voice over the radio. Mordred started. He hadn’t expected to hear from Gaheris at all during this.

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

“Then why’d you turn off your targeting computer?”

“It wasn’t getting a lock,” Mordred said. “I don’t think the computer can make the shot. I’m going to try eyeballing it.”

Silence was the only response. Mordred didn’t blame them. If he failed at this, everyone down on Dolorous Guard 3-1 was going to die. They had every right to doubt his decision. But Gawain had already proven that the computer couldn’t make the shot. There was no sense in taking another chance on something that clearly wasn’t working.

“Are you certain about this?” Mador finally asked. “My systems have no readings on the exhaust port. For a human eye to see what a computer can’t…especially at the speed we’re going…”

“I don’t know what else to try,” Mordred said.

“Very well,” Mador said. Mordred watched on his screen as Mador began to drop away from him. This was Percival’s trick all over again. Mador would do what he needed to to keep the TIE fighters as far away from Mordred as possible. It was up to Mordred to handle the rest.

Vessel. Darkness. Empty. His mind was nothing. His body was a vessel for the force to work through. Darkness. Empty. He was one with the force. He could do this. He could do this.

“Red Five, they’re more aggressive this time,” Mador said. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold th—”

There was a burst of static followed by silence. Mordred glanced down at his readout to see that Mador’s ship was gone. He was alone in the trench with three TIE Fighters closing in on his location.

Gaheris’ fingers tightened around the edge of the computer console as Red Four disappeared from the screen. That just left four. Well, three who could really do anything. The Red Leader was essentially out of the fight.

“Gawain, where the hell are you!” Percival barked over the radio.

“The three remaining fighters have driven us away from the trench,” Gawain said. Gaheris’ eyes drifted away from the trench to the blinking green images of the Green Leader and Green Two—Gawain and Ettard. The two looked brilliant as they swept back and forth along the Death Star, evading the three TIE fighters that had driven them back with ease. Of course, it didn’t seem as though the TIE fighters were all that interested in catching them. Their goal was clearly to keep Gawain and Ettard from offering any assistance to Mordred.

“We’re not going to be able to break through in time.”

“What about you, Red Leader?” one of the technicians asked. “Is there any assistance you can offer?”

“No,” Percival said. “My droid’s gone. There’s nothing I can do to fix my stabilizer. I can’t shoot and hold the ship steady at the same time. And they’re closing in on Red Five too fast to risk any wild shots.”

“Come on, Mordred,” Gaheris whispered, his eyes back on Mordred’s fighter as it closed in on the exhaust port. He was so close. If he could just survive for one more minute…

The TIE fighters came into Gaheris’ peripheral vision. They were closing in on Mordred fast. He had seconds, maybe, before they took him out. A minute was an impossible dream.

Aunt Morgause’s locket was hot against Mordred’s chest. As he tried once again to focus on the force—to clear his mind and make himself a vessel—all he could feel were the threads connecting him to his friends and family. A thread to Gawain in his fighter and Gaheris down on the planet. Threads to Gareth, Lynette, and Ax even though they were long gone in separate directions. Threads to Ettard and Percival even though he had just met them. There was even a broken thread to where Mador had been.

Nephew, no, he heard Aunt Morgan say. Not just a whisper this time, but a firm command. Full of the same forceful disproval that had so shaken him a few days ago. This was the wrong way to connect with the force. This way led to darkness. It was what had cause Ursus to fall and Mordred was risking everything by even considering such an option.

And none of it meant a damn thing. People were going to die. Not just the rebels on Dolorous Guard 3-1, but billions of lives after if the Empire was allowed to reign supreme with this weapon. Any sacrifice was worth keeping that from happening.

No, Aunt Morgan said again, but her voice was fading away as Mordred focused on the warmth of Aunt Morgause’s locket and the connections following this path had brought him.

The effect was instantaneous. It was as though a map had been overlaid on his vision. Mordred could see exactly what he needed to do to fire his missiles directly into the exhaust port. He could see how fast he needed to fly and where along the width of the trench he needed to position his fighter. All he had to do was follow the lines of the map and he would be able to make the shot.

He could feel her again. Morgause. Ursus drew in deep, gasping breaths as her presence settled onto the one remaining rebel fighter in the trench. Had she been there all along? Was Morgause the one flying that ship?

No. Of course not. Morgause held many areas of expertise but flying a single fighter had never been one of them. But like on the Death Star, she was helping whoever was in that fighter. The boy again? What was so special about him? Why was Morgause willing to risk so much to protect him?

Answers Ursus desperately wanted. Answers he was never going to get as both Morgause and the boy would be dead soon.

Close enough now to do some damage, Ursus reached out with the force and positioned himself perfectly so there would be no escape. Secure in the feeling that this was finished, Ursus lined up the rebel fighter in his crosshairs and fired.

Mordred swerved to the side as the lead TIE fighter fired off a shot at him. Not enough of a swerve to dodge the attack completely—apparently he didn’t have enough speed or space to manage that—but enough to ensure that his ship didn’t explode upon impact.

There was a whirring screech over his radio. The sound of AC-LN’s last dying gasp of 1s and 0s. That was one more intelligent life form who had sacrificed itself in the name of Mordred Pendragon, prophesized chosen one. Mordred would have felt worse about the lost if he hadn’t been certain that he was seconds away from joining the droid as a singe burn across the Death Star.

He wasn’t going to survive this. The TIE fighters would shoot him down as soon as he fired the torpedoes and tried to come up out of the trench. And that scenario assumed he made it to the exhaust port at all. Despite the heat from his locket and the warm threads that connected him to everyone he had ever cared about, Mordred felt as though something dark and cold was looming up just behind him. It was pushing up against him and Mordred’s map to success seemed to be wavering under its power.

Ursus was in one of the fighters behind him. He had to be. It was the same dark power that had nearly swallowed Mordred up on the Death Star days earlier that was bearing down on him right now. Ursus was stronger than him—more practiced in the ways of the force. He would blow apart Mordred’s map like it was nothing and kill him before he reached the exhaust port.

It seemed so obvious that Ursus was about to kill him, and yet Mordred’s map stayed true. It was wavering in the face of Ursus’ power, but it hadn’t been dismantled yet. So long as the force was showing Mordred the way, there was still a chance for success.

Mordred closed his eyes. The trench disappeared but the lit-up outline of his map remained. He could feel his ship once again settle into Ursus’ crosshairs, but his map didn’t waver and neither did Mordred. He stayed the course.

Hope was all he had left.

“We’ve cleared the planet, sir. Dolorous Guard 3-1 is now in range.”

“There, what did I tell you?” Tiberius said smugly. He finally looked way from the holographic image of the firefight outside. So strange that Ursus’ hadn’t been able to do away with eighteen meager rebel fighters yet. That four still survived, assuming these readings were accurate, was baffling. That two had managed to make impressive runs at the exhaust port…well. The Emperor would certainly be hearing about that. Ursus would not be walking away from this humiliation unscathed.

“Fire when ready,” Tiberius said, stepping away from the hologram.

“Sir?” the technician asked, his voice wavering. The poor boy sounded terrified. “Don’t you think it would be wise to wait until Darth Ursus has cleared the field?”

“No, I do not,” Tiberius said.

“But sir, once we begin powering up the weapon, we’ll have no means of running a diagnostic. If the remaining fighter manages to damage the exhaust port, we won’t be able to st—”

“If we wait word will spread that the rebels intimidated us enough with an eighteen-man single fighter force that we stayed our hand in our moment of triumph. Even if we destroy the alliance here, the simple act of waiting could leave enough embers behind to keep their fire going. That I will not have. I demand a swift and all-encompassing defeat. I want this victory to be the one that breaks the will of a galaxy. Now, I am not in the business of repeating myself and there will be hell to pay if I am forced to.”

“Of course, Grand Moff,” the technician said with a bow. “I’ll see to it right away.”

He scurried off to give the order to fire. Tiberius made his way over to the main window—where he had a clear view of Dolorous Guard 3-1. He dearly wanted to see the complete and utter destruction of the Rebel Alliance.

Gaheris wanted to throw up when he saw Mordred’s ship take the hit. He closed his eyes, fighting back the nausea as AC-LN’s screams came over the radio. Mordred was damn lucky that shot hadn’t taken him out. There was no way he’d get that lucky again.

“Gawain, he’s not going to make it!” Percival yelled.

“There’s nothing I can do!”

Gaheris didn’t think he had ever heard Gawain sound so hopeless.

“The Death Star has cleared the planet,” someone said softly.

Gaheris opened his eyes to find himself facing a room full of disheartened Lothians. This was it. They’d given it their best shot and now they were going to die the same way their people had.

“I’m sorry,” Gaheris said. It wasn’t much to give a group of people who had already lost their home world and now were about to lose their chance to avenge it. But it was all he had left to give.

His eyes drifted back down to the holographic image of the battle. The lead TIE fighter was now perfectly aligned with Mordred’s. This was it. It was well and truly over.

“Wait,” someone said from the other side of the room. “A ship just dropped out of hyperspace alongside the Death Star.”

“One of ours?” someone else asked.

“No. It looks like a cargo ship.” 

Ursus had him. His first shot had missed—somehow the boy had managed to dodge at the last moment. That was Morgause making one last attempt to protect the boy and salvage the mission. But her power could only get her so far and there was nothing more she could do. Ursus was going to kill her little prodigy and then he would sit and watch as her rebellion crumbled into dust. He hoped she was down on the planet watching in despair as her prodigy died a futile death, but he wasn’t counting on it. No doubt Morgause would remain as elusive as ever.

He took his time to line up his final shot—to let the boy drift back into his crosshairs. He wanted the boy to understand that this was it. To feel through the force that there was no hope left. There was nothing Morgause could do to save him. He was going to die.

The human half of his face curling into a smile, Ursus moved to fire. His console blipped. It was the only warning he had of another ship dropping out of hyperspace before a volley of canon shots rained down upon him.

“What?” Ursus snarled as he was forced to drop back away from the fighter to avoid being hit. He looked down at his readout, expecting to see that a rebel ship had dropped out of hyperspace. Instead, his readout indicated it was a simple cargo ship.

No, not any cargo ship. That cargo ship.

Mordred laughed in relief as the Savage Damsel swooped overhead—driving the TIE fighters away from him and keeping them from getting another clear shot. He switched his radio over to a frequency he knew Lynette liked to use and hoped she was keeping to her habits.

“Lynette!”

“Aw, hell puppy, is that you down there?” she asked. “You just had to dive right into the thick of it, didn’t you?”

“You came back!” Mordred was almost unable to believe it. If he hadn’t able to feel her and Ax through the force, he probably wouldn’t have.

“Yeah, we’ll, who could say no to those sad, puppy-dog eyes,” Lynette said.  

“Not us, that’s for certain,” Ax said.

Another volley of canon shots was sent in the direction of the TIE fighters. One took a direct hit and exploded. Lynette whooped with excitement as the Damsel pushed her sudden advantage. The remaining fighter—the one that held Ursus—rose up out of the trench. He made a hasty retreat before Lynette could finish him off.

“That’s right, you’d better run!” Ax howled.

“That’s it, puppy, you’re all clear,” Lynette said. “Take your time and make it count!”

Mordred focused back in on his map, trusting the force completely now. If it had known that Lynette would come back to save him, there was no doubt in Mordred’s mind that his next shot would fly true.

Colored light began to flash across his vision and Mordred knew this was it. He pressed the button his yoke, firing the torpedo, before lifting up out of the trench and away from the Death Star.

“What the hell is going on out there,” Tiberius roared. He could hear discombobulated shouting over the comms. He didn’t know what the pilots were going on about, all he knew was that it was ruining his victory celebration. This close to wiping out the rebels for good and the damn pilots couldn’t let him enjoy his accomplishment in peace.

“It’s Darth Ursus, sir, he wants to talk to you,” one of the technicians said. “The fighters have been forced to retreat.”

“Whatever for?” Tiberius asked, making his way over to the comm station. “Ursus, get back in there and finish off those fighters.”

“It’s too late,” Ursus said. “The rebels managed to breach the exhaust port. It’s over.”

“What?” Tiberius said as a cold terror began to wash over him. “That’s not possible.”

“I assure you it is,” Ursus said. “I have ordered our fighters to retreat in the hopes that we are able to reconnect with the Empire before the rebellion turns their attention to us. I can’t say it’s been an honor serving with you.”

The line went dead as Tiberius slowly curled his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

“Power down the weapon,” he ordered.

“We can’t sir, it’s too late,” the technician said softly.

“Order an evacuation.”

“It’s too late.”

“No,” Tiberius said, looking back out the window at that accursed moon. “No, NO, N—”

“Yes, yes!” someone across the room was saying, their voice easily heard as the rebels waited with baited breath. “We have satellite confirmation! The Death Star has been destroyed! It’s destroyed!”

The cheer that went up through the room was deafening. Gaheris immediately found himself enveloped in hugs from the people surrounding him. They’d done it. It was over. The Death Star was destroyed and Lothian would be able to rest in peace.

The joy Gaheris felt was still threatening to overwhelm him as he and every single rebel still on the planet made their way out of the control room and down to the hanger so they could greet the pilots as they returned. And there they all were, screaming and cheering as the four remaining fighters and the Savage Damsel touched down in the hanger.

Gawain’s fighter opened first. He popped up out of his cockpit and spiked his helmet to the ground before throwing his head back and letting lose a war cry for the ages. The ground crew surged forward to the four fighters, cheering and clapping as the remaining pilots emerged from their ships and descended to the ground.

Gaheris pushed his way through the crowd toward Mordred’s ship. Most of the ground crew had gathered there—and why not. Arthur Pendragon’s son—the chosen one of the rebellion—had just saved them all. Mordred had just joined the rebellion in a blaze of glory that wouldn’t be soon forgotten.

Mordred, for his part, was still up in his ship. The cockpit was open and Mordred had climbed out enough to talk with a technician who had climbed a ladder to look over AC-LN. The droid looked bad. Its housing, which already had been scorched and dented, was black and brown and still smoking. There were even two large cracks along the length of it. Mordred looked nervous as he nodded along with what the technician was saying. Whatever assurances were given, they appeared to be enough to ease Mordred’s concerns. He finally looked out to find a mob of people surrounding his ship and nearly shrunk back into the cockpit.

Gaheris jumped up and waved, hoping that would catch Mordred’s attention. He didn’t think yelling would do him much good right now. Mordred glanced down, catching Gaheris’ eye and that seemed to shake him out his stupor. He climbed out of his ship and down the ladder.

Gaheris had him enveloped in a hug just after his feet touched the ground. He couldn’t think of any other way to keep the crowd from surging around Mordred. He held his cousin tight and tried not to let his giddiness overwhelm Mordred any further.

“You did it,” Gaheris shouted in his ear. “You really did it!”

“Oh,” Mordred said, pushing Gaheris away and reaching towards someone in the crowd. Gaheris turned, expecting to see Lynette, but it was Dinadan Mordred was reaching out to. He was standing near the back of the ship, staring up at AC-LN.

“It’ll be all right,” Mordred said, stepping up next to Dinadan and taking his hand. “The ground crew downloaded its memory before loading it onto my ship. It won’t remember the fight, but the technician assured me they can fix it up good as new. I’m sorry AC got hurt. I should have—”

Mordred didn’t get a chance to finish as Dinadan lunged forward and gave him an awkward and stiff looking hug.  

“I’m glad you’re well, sir,” Dinadan said. “And don’t worry about AC. It will think this is a grand story, once I have a chance to tell it.”

A high-pitched whistle was the only warning they had before Lynette crashed into them from the side, pulling all three of the into a hug. Gaheris pushed her back as he felt Mordred and Dinadan begin to lose their balance. She took a step back and gave them a wink.  

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to see you,” Gaheris said as Mordred slipped away from Dinadan and reached out to take her hands.

“I’m glad you’re all not dead,” Lynette said.

“You saved me,” Mordred said, squeezing her hands.

“You saved us,” Lynette said. “I was happy to lend a hand.”

“I’m glad you came back,” Gaheris said.

“Me too.”

“Hey, Red Five!” Percival yelled, pushing his way through the crowd. “Come on. We’ve got some unfinished business.”

Mordred let go of Lynette’s hands and followed Percival back through the crowd. There seemed to be a realization among the spectators that something important was about to happen as they parted for Percival and Mordred and were starting to quiet down. Gaheris and Lynette went after them before the crowd could close up again.

Percival led Mordred to the center of the hanger where Ettard and Gawain were waiting. The ground crew had formed a circle around them, giving the pilots room as they stepped up next to each other. Gawain had retrieved his helmet and, as Percival and Mordred approached, he held it out just above his head. Ettard lifted her own helmet so it was touching Gawain’s. Percival did the same and motioned for Mordred to join them.

“Call the names,” Gawain said before he bowed his head. Suddenly the hanger was quiet except for one voice calling out the names of the pilots who had fallen in battle.

Gaheris reached out and slipped his hand into Lynette’s. She looked up at him and Gaheris smiled at her, trying to convey how grateful he was that she had come back to save him and his family in that one gesture. Lynette squeezed his hand and continued to stare up at him as the names of the fallen pilots rang out around them.

Chapter Text

The grand hall of the Camelot was, if possible, more magnificent than the Round Table herself. Mordred had taken time over the last week to acclimate to the ship and get used to the grand hall so he wouldn’t be completely overwhelmed when it came time for the ceremony. His planning had proven to be in vain. With the hall now filled with rebel soldiers and all eyes on him, Mordred’s nerves were starting to get the best of him.

He didn’t even understand why all eyes were on him—well, except for the chosen one thing which he was still having trouble wrapping his around. Yes, he had fired the shot that had destroyed the Death Star, but it had been Percival’s plan. Percival wasn’t even up at the front of the hall. This ceremony was specifically to honor those who weren’t a part of the rebellion who had stepped up to defend it in its greatest hour of need. Beside him stood Lynette, Ax, Dinadan, and a recently repaired AC-LN. Across the hall were the band of operatives Cywyllog had put together to steal the plans in the first place.

Mordred was trying to focus on them as it was a good way to avoid thinking about all of the eyes that were currently on him. What Cywyllog and her operatives had done was far more impressive than firing the torpedo that had taken out the Death Star as far as Mordred was concerned. They had broken into a heavily guarded Imperial Base and managed to not only steal the Death Star plans but escape with their lives. It was a story Mordred dearly wanted to hear but hadn’t yet managed to. His week had been something of a whirlwind.

The doors at the front of the grand hall began to slide open, revealing the Round Table on the other side. Isolde stepped out into the hall first, flanked on either side by Gaheris and Cywyllog. Gawain and Percival were right behind them carrying the medals.

“When a new recruit would join the Round Table, Sir Arthur Pendragon would stand in this very spot to welcome them into the order he created before all those who had come before them,” Isolde said as she looked out at the rebels lined up and down the hall. “It was a lavish affair. Because Arthur Pendragon believed in the importance of people stepping up to do good in the galaxy and he wanted to honor those who made that choice.

“But Arthur is gone now. Taken and held by the Empire. And the order of the Round Table did not survive the loss of him. Instead, we have a rebellion doing its damnedest to survive against the all-powerful might of the Empire. We cannot afford luxury and lavish affairs to honor ourselves are nothing more than luxury.

“Most of the time. For even I, utilitarian as I am, can admit there are moments where something so extraordinary happens that we must take time to celebrate it and to honor those who accomplished such feats. And we have seen some spectacular feats these past few weeks.”

She turned to face Cywyllog’s group of operatives. “From a group of strangers who came together in the face of monumental adversity to steal a set of plans from a maximum-security imperial base.” She turned to face Mordred and his friends. “To a smuggling crew and their passengers who saw those plans safely into our hands and won the battle against a weapon against mass destruction. None of you were part of the rebellion when your adventures started, which makes what you accomplished all the more miraculous. We are in your debt and are grateful you have all agreed to join our cause. We are better for having you.”

Isolde turned and motioned to Cywyllog and Gaheris as they came forward, Gawain and Percival right behind them. Cywyllog went to her crew while Gaheris joined Mordred, Lynette and the others.

“This is only a small token of our gratitude,” Isolde said as Gaheris took one of the medals from Percival and hung it around Mordred’s neck. “We owe you so much more and can only hope that one day we will have the means to repay you. But for now, accept this gift and our thanks.”

Gaheris continued down the line, presenting medals to Dinadan, AC-LN, Ax, and finally Lynette. She winked at Gaheris before he could present her medal. His solemn, ceremonial face cracked into a smile. Lynette turned quickly to smirk at Mordred before bowing her head and allowing Gaheris to hang the medal around her neck.

The medals all handed out, all those at the front of the room turned to face the rebels waiting out in the grand hall.

“I say this with great confidence,” Isolde said. “Sir Arthur Pendragon would have been proud to welcome you to his Round Table. You are our heroes of a new age.”

The room erupted into cheers. Mordred was glad he’d spent the last week acclimating to people cheering at him or else this would have been too much to bear. As intimidating as it was, Mordred couldn’t help but be pleased with what he’d managed to accomplish for the rebellion in such a short amount of time. The future looked bright and he was ready to face whatever challenges this new path held.

The scent of spices ticked at his nose. Mordred closed his eyes and breathed it in, content in the knowledge that he had done her proud.