Chapter Text
Hyperspace whirled and roared as the Ghost shot through it.
Hera Sydulla tightened her right hand on the hyperdrive lever, green skin whitening, as her left kept loose on the yoke. She glanced at the navicomputer, seeing the countdown until they entered real space. She needed to time this just right...
“Okay everyone,” she said on the ship-wide comm. “I hope you’re all in position because we’re coming in hot.”
“Ready down here!” Ezra Bridger called from the nose turret, swivelling it slightly to check the mobility.
“I’ll be ready for them,” Zeb Orrelios confirmed from the tail turret.
“All good up top,” Kanan Jarrus added from the dorsal turret.
Beside her, Chopper waved his grasping arms and made a wuh-wuh noise.
Hera flashed him a smile. “Thanks for the moral support,” she said. She turned back to the viewport, a grimace streaking her fingers, her lekku taut. She loved flying, loved it more than anything in the galaxy. But sometimes she hated the use she had to put that love to. Hated the pressure of knowing that the lives of her crew, her friends, rested on her piloting skills...
She flicked her eyes to the navicomputer, the chrono saying they were thirty seconds away.
Now!
She yanked the hyperdrive lever down. “Here we go!”
The swirl of hyperspace broke into lines and then the battle slammed into them.
A maelstrom whirled up the barely visible mouldy brown of Naboo. Masking the planet was the enormous blue-grey arrowhead shape of a Super Star Destroyer, flanked at its four quadrants by grey Imperial-class Star Destroyers, two of them smoking with chunks blown out of them, deployed in the Marg Sable formation. At the top of the whirl were two greenish-grey ovoid-shaped MC80 star cruisers, two yellow-gold Mandalorian cruisers, beak-shaped with fins poking up at the back, set in the Hanging Mynock formation, pointing down at the Empire. Circling above the Mandalorian fleet was a Kandosii-class Dreadnought, bulky squares and sharp angles, a sword-like rudder stabbing from the centre of the ventral hull. Between the fleets, a tornado of expanding fire and laser cannons spun and flashed, as TIE fighters, Scyk interceptors and Fang fighters pursued, looped and spat at one another. A torrent of green and red turbolaser fire crisscrossed the field, pounding against shields in furious splashes of light.
The Ghost streaked past the Mandalorian fleet, spinning into the eye of the storm. Hera kept her hands tight on the steering yoke, accelerating them through the fastest and most direct route.
“I take it back!” Zeb shouted. “I wasn’t ready!”
“We’re going through the middle,” she announced. “Don’t draw attention by firing!”
“Gonna have to scrap that plan,” Kanan called, swivelling the dorsal turret. “Squad of TIEs incoming!”
Three TIE fighters, orbs with hexagonal wings, screamed toward them, green laser cannon fire lancing for the Ghost. Most shrieked past, but a couple buckled the shields. Kanan slapped the trigger buttons on the turret and the cannon pounded, red lasers clipping one of the TIEs and sending it spinning into space.
“Oh great…” Hera muttered, twisting the Ghost on a stomach-churning spin. She had hoped to avoid doing this. “Chopper, send the signal.”
The C1 astromech, with an orange head top, made an affirmative noise and whirred over to the transponder unit.
Miara Larte stank. The cloying smell of her sweat, stress and fear soaked into her pilot uniform and created a miasma in the cockpit of her Type 2 Scyk interceptor.
Thirty minutes of straight fighting, where the merest slip could--
“Watch yourself!” Bakara shouted.
Miara snapped the yoke down and dived out of the way of a TIE fighter’s strafing run. Bakara swept across her bow and fired, her cannons slashing through the TIE, turning it into an expanding cloud of fire.
“You alright?” Tun’un called.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine!” Miara said, reasserting her attention to the battle. She pulled herself back into position, sliding up alongside her squad, flinching as a whole dogfight flashed past her viewport. “Just caught me by surprise.”
“Well don’t do it again,” Jerkyll said. “We need your leadership.”
She flicked a slight smile at the sarcastic tone, but it was a merited warning. They’d already lost Perla…
Her eyes drifted to the photo of Kaeden on her dash, smiling in her medical uniform, with Mr Wook hanging below it for luck.
Sorry, she thought. She’d promised her sister she’d come home, just like always.
She swung her starfighter around and let loose with a series of snapshots that cut through the wing of a TIE fighter pursuing another Scyk interceptor squad. It spiralled down and burst apart against the Super Star Destroyer. They were around the middle field of the battle, but the Mandalorian forces had been slowly pushing their way down. Surprisingly the Empire didn’t appear to be evacuating Naboo yet. Confident they could hold on?
More likely waiting for us to come into range of their ground cannons… she thought.
She heard a soft bleep, and an orange light blinked under the dashboard.
She stared at it for a moment, confused, her fighter shuddering from the vibrations of battle. Then she remembered: the secret signal.
She tapped the underside of the board and she grimaced at the coordinates flooding onto her computer. She flicked a switch, turning her comm onto a secured channel for her squad only.
“Attack pattern delta, go now!” she called, in a voice that made it sound like they were about to leap into action. Miara waited a moment, giving it a couple of seconds. Then, when she was sure they were all on the secure comm, she spoke. “The Ghost is in system.”
“Please tell me they’re on the edge of this mess,” Bakara pleaded.
Miara sighed. “The exact opposite.”
“Of course…” Jerkyll muttered.
“I’ll patch through their coordinates,” Miara said, tapping at her console. Give them covering fire, but don’t make it look like we’re covering them!” She pulled her starfighter to starboard, and her squad followed her toward the centre of battle, exploding clouds and laser flares cutting across her vision.
“Always with the easy assignments…” Jerkyll groaned.
Hera rocked in her seat as the Ghost shuddered under the TIE fighter fire. “Can you keep them off us?!” she shouted.
“Trying our best here!” Kanan shouted back, firing at the increasing numbers of pursuing TIEs, Zeb adding fire of his own.
“Why did we go through the centre?!” Ezra called, shooting at whatever crossed in front of the Ghost, as it hurtled closer and closer to the defensive line of Star Destroyers. He flinched as the Star Destroyer on the top left quadrant suddenly came apart, a fan of flame splitting it through the middle.
“Because it’s the fastest route!” Hera said, getting frustrated as she yanked the Ghost to the side, Chopper letting out a wail behind her as he crashed into the opposite wall.
“Speed isn’t much good if we’re all dead,” Zeb said, gritting his teeth as green laser fire broke against the rear deflector shields.
“Then one of you fly and I’ll do the pew-pew stuff!” Hera snapped.
Before anyone could retort, her comm channel bleeped. Hera slapped it and a symbol appeared in ghostly blue light, a square with blades under it.
“This is Thresher,” the distorted voice said. “My squad are coming to your aid, in Type-2 Scyk interceptors. We’ll clear the TIEs and make it look like we’re pursuing you. Fire to make it look good.”
“Thresher, Phoenix Leader,” Hera said. “We copy, thank you for your assistance.”
“Make it count. Thresher out.”
Hera switched to the ship-wide comm. “Mandalorian starfighters are going to assist,” she said. “Shoot at them, but don’t hit them!”
“There they are!” Bakara called.
“I see them,” Miara said, spotting the rhombus shape of the VCX-100 light freighter twisting and jinking through the battle, five TIE fighters hot on its contrails. Green laser fire smashed into the shields, and the returning fire struggled to pick out the TIEs. Miara pressed her foot down, accelerating to attack speed. “Take out the TIEs then line up behind them. Shoot to miss.”
“On it!” Tun’un confirmed.
Miara adjusted her yoke smoothly, lining herself up. She squeezed the trigger and two TIEs tore apart. Bakara added fire, taking out one more and Jerkyll swooped overhead, lancing the last two as he passed.
“Good shooting team!” Tun’un cheered.
“You didn’t do anything!” Jerkyll retorted.
“I provided you with the courage to shoot well,” Tun’un replied, making a kissing noise.
“No flirting over the comms!” Bakara moaned.
“Alright, line up behind them,” Miara said, ignoring the argument. She snapped off a couple of shots, angling them so they grazed the Ghosts’ shields, but did no damage. The dorsal turret responded, its fire barely coming within a parsec of her fighter.
Miara glanced starboard and port and saw that her squad had lined up and were adding their own minimal fire, occasionally sneaking a shot that hit a TIE. She activated her comm channel to the Ghost.
“Phoenix Leader, this is Thresher. We’re in position.”
“I’ve got eyes on them,” Kanan said, keeping watch on the winged starfighters, blades projecting past the cockpit. Behind them, the Mandalorian fleet kept up its punishing rate of fire, the turbolasers falling like blood-drenched rain.
He squinted. At that range, they could pick off the Star Destroyers, eventually, but it would never get through the Super Star Destroyer’s shields. They were obviously wary of any ion cannons on the planet but...
The Kandosii Dreadnought moved across the centre of the field and multiple fires flared from the dipping rudder. Kanan whipped his head to track a set of metallic cylinders that streaked past. “What was that?” he called. “Torpedoes?”
From the nose turret, Ezra peered out at the cylinders. The Super Star Destroyer was closer now, filling the viewport and he could see the pods heading right for it. “No…I don’t think...” He saw the cylinders hit, but they didn’t explode. “Boarding party!”
“Are they nuts?!” Zeb called.
Sergeant Datra led his squad of white armoured stormtroopers on a run down the wide grey corridor, as the alert of the Avenging Fire blared. “Boarding pods have made impact,” the confident voice of Admiral Ozzel sounded over the comm. “Repel the scum.”
Datra glanced at his holomap and saw that they were right where the pod was projected to be. He halted, raising his fist, and the squad came to a regulation halt behind him and got into position, pointing their E-11 medium blaster rifles at the wall. Datra set himself among his squad of nine, aiming at the wall. He’d trained for this. Beskar or not, they wouldn’t be able to stand up to--
A plamsa cutter burst through the wall and the squad leader tensed with his men, aiming his blaster but…
His frown matched that on his helmet.
It didn’t look like any plasma cutter he’d seen.
It was a vicious red.
The cutter wrenched through the wall in a circle, and Datra yelled and dove to the side as the cut portion flew out and clanged against the opposite wall hard enough to dent it. He pushed himself up to see his squad getting cut down. They’d thrown themselves out of the way, and they were easy pickings for the Mandalorians, in their red and black armour and spiked helms. Datra swung up his rifle and snapped off a shot that jarred the spaulder of one Mandalorian. Barely sparing him a glance, she pointed her blaster carbine to the side and shot him through the stomach.
Datra collapsed back with a groan, clutching the smoking hole in his armour.
He heard a loud clanking noise, the heavy tread of feet.
Wincing, he pushed himself up to his elbows to look.
A wraith in mechanical form stood among the Mandalorians. A bone white skeletal body, with a thin sheen of red-grey, an insectoid mask with burning yellow eyes, a long dirty white cape shrouding his form.
Datra’s eyes widened. The Supreme Commander!
“Make for the bridge,” the Supreme Commander said, his voice low and predatory. “Kill anyone who gets in our way.”
The Mandalorians moved quickly down the corridor, blaster carbines up. Datra growled. One good shot was all he needed to end this. He pushed past the pain and snatched up his rifle. The Supreme Commander turned at the sound--
His shot was true. It cracked forward, the red bolt streaking right for the Supreme Commander’s face--
The red plasma cutter suddenly ignited and intercepted the bolt. The bolt curved slightly and rebounded towards Datra.
He had time for one, shocked thought. A lightsabre!
Then the bolt seared between his eyes and turned his brain to hot mush.
Miara flicked her eyes up from the Ghost, snapping off another couple of shots that went wide. They were nearly at the Star Destroyer blockade now. So close she could see the drop pods nesting against the Super Star Destroyer’s hull.
The usual plan. Send the chaff out to absorb fire, and then send in the Mandos to take out the capital ship and keep the cruisers safe from fire.
Her fingers tightened. ‘Mandalore is With You’. Right behind you, nudging you forward, waiting for the enemy to run out of ammunition...
She and Kaeden had believed at first; then they’d consoled themselves that it was better than the Empire. Then Raada had turned into an exhausted dustbowl...
No more.
She blinked her attention back. Unfortunately, being close to the Super Star Destroyer, meant that the whirl of TIE fighters had increased. And heading for them.
“Whirl Squadron, stay alert!” she called. “We’ve got lots of TIEs heading this way!”
“I see them!” Jerkyll called. “Going to try and--”
The TIEs screamed past the Ghost, and fired, ripping Jerkyll’s starfighter apart.
“Jerkyll!” Tun’un shouted, swinging his fighter out of formation to follow.
“Whirl Four!” Miara shouted. “Hold off! Don’t pursue, you’ll--!”
Her warning went into the void, as another squadron of TIEs streaked from below and shredded his fighter into a cloud.
“Great Ocean Spirit!” Bakara shrieked, voice hitting hysterics. “They’re gone! It’s just us! They’re--”
“Keep it together Whirl 5!” Miara shouted. Her own heart thumped hard. Five seconds. Five seconds ago they were both alive. “Bank to port, we need to pull back.” She winced as green energy splashed against the Ghost’s shields and more TIEs flashed past.
Miara swung her starfighter, checking out the top of her viewport to make sure Bakara was following, then hit her comm.
Hera jostled in the seat, the Super Star Destroyer now filling the whole viewport.
“Phoenix Leader, this is Thresher,” the voice said. Even through the distortion, Hera could hear the strain. “We need to break off, we’ve lost two of the squad.”
Her chest tightened. They’d died for them.
“Get out of there!” she said immediately.
“Sorry.”
The comm channel cut off.
The Ghost shuddered as laser cannon fire struck it with intent now. The alert noise blared: the dorsal shields dropped to thirty per cent.
“They’re all over us!” Kanan shouted, swinging in his seat to take out one of the pursuing TIES. But more kept coming a veritable swarm.
Hera hit the accelerator and hurtled them toward the Super Star Destroyer’s hull. She could feel the sweat building up under her flight cap, trickling off both lekku. Hear it plinking to the floor. “Just hang on…” she said through gritted teeth. “We’re almost there...”
The hull came closer and closer--tens of metres away--
“Uh…Hera?” Ezra shouted, pressing himself back into his seat. “I don’t want to tell you how to fly but shouldn’t we--!”
Hera ripped back on the yoke, her muscles burning with the strain. The Ghost nosed up just ahead of the hull and skimmed across it. The pursuing TIEs were unable to follow the manoeuvre and exploded against the hull. Hera slipped them past one thundering turbolaser turret, whirled to starboard to peel them past a second--
--tears leaked from her eyes--she didn’t dare blink--
--she hauled back on the yoke and flung them up and over a final turret, sweeping over it between one roar and the next, the vibration rattling the ship, and then she twisted the yoke and plunged past the edge of the hull toward the planet.
Hera let out the breath she’d been holding in a scream. “We’re through!”
Ezra punched the air and yelled in joy, as the comm flooded with the Spectres’ cheers.
Miara cut back toward the Mandalorian lines, flinching as green flashes slashed across her viewport.
“You’ve got two on you!” Bakara screamed, piercing and panicked.
Miara glanced over both shoulders, trying to get a visual read, but she couldn’t see them. She didn’t know which way to turn. A laser glanced off her wing and the fighter rocked. Miara yelled in fear.
“There’s another coming in,” Bakara sobbed. “I can’t get to you, I’m sorry, I can’t, I’m sorry--”
Miara was about to wrench her starfighter around when she halted. It was over. She let out a long breath and relaxed her fingers, a strange calm coming over her. She looked at the photo of her sister. Her slightly embarrassed smile, hair braided to the back.
A sad smile flickered at her lips.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “Just get out of here Bakara. And tell Kaeden…tell Kaeden I--”
Her fighter juddered and spun and she cut off with a scream, squeezing her eyes shut.
Then she blinked. She was still here, her fighter still working.
“What the--” she breathed.
“The other TIE!” Bakara shouted in disbelief. “It shot them off you!”
The TIE fighter screamed past, a model she hadn’t seen before, with curving solar panels and thicker couplings. The TIE spun on its axis and the cockpit faced Miara for a brief moment. Miara blinked. She caught sight of the pilot, a yellow-skinned Mirialan wearing a hood and a mask, seeing the eyes and the tattoo across the forehead as a blur.
The TIE completed its spin and then burst toward the planet.
Miara watched it go, dumbfounded. Weirdly, the pilot felt familiar...like she knew them from somewhere...
“What was that?” Bakara asked, snapping Miara out of her daze.
“No idea, but I’m not going to waste my luck,” she said, jerking the yoke back. “Let’s get behind our lines!”
“No arguments from me!”
The Ghost jerked and rumbled as it flew through the dirty ocean of clouds that walled Naboo’s upper atmosphere, dusty orange lightning rippling against its hull.
Ezra ripped the headset off, and swung out of his seat, clambering up the short passage into the cockpit. He crawled out from under the console and stood, looking out onto the viewport, stained with dust and oily grease. Hera flicked him a glance, before returning her attention to the screen, arms straining with minute adjustments against the turbulence.
A yellow-orange rope of lightning flashed a sickly light into the cockpit as the door slid open to admit Kanan, wearing his green jumper with a dark green spaulder and vambrace covering his right arm, hair pulled into a short ponytail. Ezra snuck a grin at him. “We did it!” he said.
“We’ve done one part,” Kanan cautioned. “But we need to keep focused.”
Ezra rubbed the back of his neck, bringing his body language down to try and check the surge of excitement rushing through him. “Right, yeah...where’s Zeb?”
“Finding a pillow to scream into,” Kanan said with an amused smile, which Ezra returned.
Ezra turned back to look out the viewport as the Ghost burst through the layer of clouds, smoke trailing behind it like a cloak.
Hera relaxed back with a sigh and a look of disgust. Ezra’s eyes widened as he peered out on Naboo in shock.
“I thought you said Naboo was a green world?” he gasped.
“It was…once…” Kanan said with sorrow.
The Ghost swept over what remained of The Great Grass Plains. No more were they a lush green gently swaying in the wind; now it was hard, black earth stretching toward the horizon. The empty plain was broken up by turbolaser and ion cannon turrets and a complex of factories that billowed sickly yellow smoke from towering chimneys. The Empire had torn resources from Naboo’s oceans and earth without care or remorse. Volcanic eruptions, disturbed by the mining, had vomited pyroclastic ash into the air and thick clouds walled the sky, arcs of orange lightning pulsing like angry veins. The temperature had dropped, and ocean life had died off from the increased acidity and the lack of light. A yellowish haze hung across the whole planet. But the most disturbing thing was the sun. The sulphur, dust and ash had shifted the visible light spectrum so a blood-red orb glimmered a bleak twilight across the expanse.
There was no question or hope. Naboo was dead.
Theed stood on the plateau, a shadow in the greasy mist. The Ghost came closer, revealing more and more of the city. In an act of parodic cruelty, the city remained unchanged. Great spires of stone and domes with roofs the colour of jade, the Palace’s collection of buildings reached off the cliff. But it no longer shone. Instead, thick layers of ashen soot covered everything. Dark and lonely, foamy black waterfalls disgorging down the cliff face.
“Palpatine wasn’t kind to his home planet,” Kanan murmured. “Not after the Inner-System War.”
Ezra’s fist clenched. The Empire…the Mandalorian Co-Prosperity Sphere…all they cared about was taking what they could for themselves and leaving everyone else to burn.
A gentle squeeze on his shoulder, and Ezra relaxed his body at Kanan’s touch.
“I’ll lock us beneath the hangar,” Hera said, pulling the Ghost around to the cliff face. “Zeb! Get ready on the magna clamp.”
A weary sigh that sounded like ‘on it’ floated up to the cockpit.
“Come on,” Kanan said. “We need to get changed.”
The Ghost swung vertical, with the cockpit pointing toward the ground, and clamped onto the side of the rock wall beneath the hangar. It shuddered slightly as the tension field generators that held the cliff stable adjusted to compensate.
When they were secure, the back ramp lowered down and Ezra winced against the chill wind that howled through the opening. The sight was slightly disorientating: the artificial gravity of the Ghost meant he was standing horizontally, but he could see the clouds above so he knew he was vertically placed on the cliff face. He sucked in a gulp of air and hacked, instantly regretting it. It was foul and soupy, laced with pollution. He slotted the stormtrooper helmet on, grateful for the fitted armour and helmet supplied by Kallus that kept most of the chill and the poor air quality out. Kanan did the same, also dressed in the armour. Both had E-11 blaster rifles slung at their sides.
And, he reassured himself with a quick touch, his lightsabre. It was a, Kanan assured him, unique design. Looking more like a welding torch, with a front guard that ran from the emitter to the pommel. The blue kyber crystal inside could be used to either power the lightsabre or the stun blaster.
“Do you want me to go first and haul you up?” Kanan asked.
Ezra squinted at the distance. Maybe about ten meters. He shook his head. “No, I got this,” he said confidently.
He took a couple of steps back past Chopper, who swivelled his head to watch him. Then a couple more. He set himself and took a breath. Then one more step back. He sighed out the air and reached into the Force, let calmness wash over him…
He ran forward and leapt off the ramp, pushing himself with the Force. As he cleared the artificial gravity, the scene took a stomach-churning swing and he was suddenly vertical instead of horizontal. The disorientation smacked into him and he lost his concentration. The Force boost cut out and he desperately threw out his hands, just managing to slap them over the edge.
“I don’t got it!” he called, legs kicking in the open air as he tried to find purchase on the smooth cliff side.
Below, Kanan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Always something…” he muttered. He crouched and then leapt, shooting up past Ezra to land neatly on the cliff top. He grabbed Ezra’s arm and hauled him over the lip.
“Thanks,” Ezra said. “I got caught out by the change in perspective,” he added sheepishly.
“Changes in perspective can often be disorientating, but we have to accept them.”
Ezra groaned. “Are you going to turn everything into a lesson?”
“Of course! That’s the most important part of being a Master.”
Ezra bit back on his retort and turned at a low thrumming to see Chopper land beside them, his boosters cutting out. Chopper pointed two of his grasping arms at Ezra, mimed kicking feet with them, and then laughed.
Ezra glared at the astromech. “Careful, or I’ll take your boosters off and kick you back.”
Chopper laughed more, holding his ‘belly’.
A scream came overhead that made Ezra and Kanan crouch down. They looked up and saw huge chunks of flaming debris burst through the cloud layer, trailing smoke and lightning behind them. The debris streaked over Theed and fell into the cloak of mist. The haze shuddered and bloomed as a great burst of blurry light flamed from the impact point, a thundering echo reaching their ears.
Heavy drops of ash mutely fell from the clouds, settling and swirling across the city like snow.
“Well, at least it can’t make the pollution any worse,” Ezra commented.
“You’re a criminal loss to the estate agent business,” Kanan said. He gestured and the three of them moved over to the wall of one of the generator buildings, pressing back against it. A stretch of the buildings went out into the haze and, to their right, was the ovoid shape of the hangar, its turret swivelling at the sky.
“Nobody seems to be leaving…” Ezra said.
“That’s to our benefit,” Kanan replied, gesturing to Chopper. “Imperial overconfidence might mean Luminara is still here.”
Chopper projected a map of Theed. Kanan studied it and then pointed at the collection of domes, cylindrical buildings and tapering spires of the Palace. “This is where the Empire has set up their base. Our best bet at finding Luminara’s location will be there.” He traced a line from their position, over what was a river, and through the Ceremonial Gardens. “This was the route the Naboo liberation force took when the Trade Federation controlled the planet. Hopefully, we can use the same route to sneak in.”
Ezra peered into the haze as Chopper deactivated the map. He couldn’t see anything, though he could hear the rush of the river and thought he could maybe make out the shadows of the Palace. “Then let’s get going, we don’t have much time!”
The Jedi ran, Chopper wheeling along beside them.
Officer Banes directed, with an irritated but entirely appropriate flick of his fingers, the stormtroopers to pack more of the equipment and credits onto the transport ships. The hangar was a mess of containers and repulsor trolleys, though thankfully the magnetic shield kept out the smog. Lambda-class shuttles were parked on either side, fins pointing up with their ramps down from the beaked cockpits. It was slow going, and he heard more than one mutter about slave work but he grit his teeth and ignored it.
The Empire did not run. However, on occasion, it performed tactical retreats. And, judging by the reports on the siege, he wanted to ensure the retreat would be as tactical as possible.
This was why the distinctive rising in pitch screaming of a TIE fighter approaching added to his ire.
“Sir, TIE fighter on approach,” TK-421 announced, standing beside him with a blaster rifle at the ready.
“Yes, I had noticed, thank you,” Banes grated.
For people with a capacity for spotting the obvious, you’d think they’d be better shots…
The TIE fighter emerged out of the mists and passed through the magnetic shield. It was one of the advanced models, with curving wings that folded into its couplings as it set down.
Oh great…another Inquisitor…
When the Jedi Order had been swept away he hadn’t realised seemingly half of the bastards would just re-brand themselves.
But professionalism came first.
He straightened up, smoothing his dark green uniform and then clasped his hands behind him, as the hatch of the TIE Advanced popped and the Inquisitor jumped out. She landed gracefully and walked toward him. He frowned. She was a short Mirialan, just clearing five feet in heels, wearing a long black tunic with bishop sleeves. A scalloped drape, split at the front, fluttered about her boots as she strode forward, and she wore a mask and hood, revealing blue eyes and tattoos across her yellow forehead: two rectangles that framed a diamond in the centre.
“Inquisitor,” Officer Banes said. “Good to see you. To what do I--”
“I’m here to collect Luminara Unduli,” the Inquisitor said, striding past him, voice distorted by the mask.
Banes hurried after her, taking note of the disk lightsaber on her back and the blaster strapped to her leg. “I--well--I’m not sure--”
The Inquisitor halted and her eyes flashed at him. “Are you impeding me from carrying out a directive from the Emperor?”
Banes swallowed around a collar that had suddenly got tighter. “I…no, of course not…”
“Then inform me of her location.”
“She’ll be in the prison complex. At the palace.”
The Inquisitor nodded and strode out of the hangar.
Banes swallowed again and then straightened. He spun and saw the stormtroopers observing him. “Get back to work!” he bellowed and they scurried back to their tasks.
He would be glad when he was off this rock.
The journey to the palace had gone surprisingly well. Clearing the toxic waterfall had been a little bit of a challenge, but otherwise, the gardens had been clear. It was a strange feeling walking through the city. Everything was mute, but occasional sounds would rebound through the mist, before tapering into quiet again. More than once Ezra had been spooked by shadows that had resolved into a statue, or a tree.
Despite everything, Ezra marvelled at the architecture of the Palace as it towered over them. The jade green domes were greyed with ash, but something of the original colour endured in patches. The fawn-coloured stone was smooth and rounded perfectly, the spires artful constructions. Even with the twilight, the haze and the red sun, he could see the beauty they would have held. Could imagine what they would look like under a blue sky and a full sun.
They came up to the outside of the Palace and found a side entrance that was sealed shut. Kanan glanced around and then slottede his lightsabre together and activated it, the blue blade humming into life. He carefully flashed it into the seal, and the door slid open.
Ezra pulled up to a dead stop.
The inside was grey and bleak. Gone was any trace of Naboo’s architecture, replaced with the hard edges and blocky shapes of the Empire. It looked exactly the same as the numerous facilities and Star Destroyer’s he’d had the dubious pleasure of sneaking and running through.
They’d left the surface and gutted the inside.
Kanan deactivated his lightsabre and stowed it, joined, on his belt. Ezra followed him down the corridor that eventually let out into a wide hallway. He turned his head to look. Some faint traces of the old Palace remained, in the colonnades and the large arching windows inside alcoves. But the rest had been converted, the gunmetal grey plastered to the walls, the doors and the luminators, the marble floor cracked and dirty from overuse and lack of care. At one end, bathed in the pitiful light from the outside, was a tall statue of Palpatine looking down kindly on the stormtroopers and officers passing by.
Ezra put his growing anger to one side, relaxing his tightened grip on his blaster rifle. He needed to focus. Stay in the moment.
They kept walking, peering left and right. The one good thing about the Palace being converted was that it was reliably similar to every other Imperial facility they’d been in. Which meant that...Yes, there it was. A data terminal.
Kanan and Ezra marched with purpose and then swung around to discreetly block Chopper from view, as the astromech slotted behind them and plugged his data probe into the terminal. A squad of stormtroopers ran past, but didn’t bother them. Ezra turned his head to follow them, and observed more stormtrooper squads running for the end of the hallway.
“What’s spooked them?” he wondered. “Mandalorians sending a landing party?”
“Not likely…” Kanan said slowly. “We’d hear the turrets firing if they were that close.”
Ezra’s chest tightened. “You don’t think they’ve--”
“Discovered Hera?” Kanan shook his head, but there was an edge in his voice. “No. She would have alerted us if they had.”
Chopper removed his probe from the terminal and made a low whooping noise.
“Wait, she’s here?!” Kanan said, twisting around.
Chopper made an affirmative noise.
Kanan glanced at Ezra. “Level five is a prison complex. She’s being held there.”
Ezra nodded. Chopper pointed a grabber down the hallway, and then made another set of whistling noises, pointing the other way.
“The mainframe…you want to see if you can spike it?”
“Wuh-wuh.”
Kanan thought a moment and then sighed. “Okay, you do that. But then you get back to Hera straight away, got it? We can’t hang around once we get Luminara.”
Chopper saluted with a grasper and then whirred down the hallway.
“I take it we’re the other way,” Ezra said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah, come on.”
They ran down the hallway. Fortunately, the other troopers running would give them cover.
Hera sat in the cockpit with her arms and legs crossed, one foot nervously tapping at the air. Kanan had checked in when they’d reached the top. They were heading to the Palace. Further communication wouldn’t happen until they were out. She knew no further update didn’t mean anything.
And yet…and yet…
Her foot tapped at the air.
“They’ll be okay,” Zeb said, squeezing her shoulder.
Hera sighed, her lekku twitching. “I know. I shouldn’t worry. Apart from flying through the siege, this is, in theory, one of our more straightforward missions but…”
But they’d faced those Inquisitors a half-dozen times, coming back with scrapes and bruises and likely worse. Every time they went out she dreaded that only one of them would come back. Dreaded that Ezra would come back, tearfully telling her how…
How he'd done something noble and stupid…
Zeb regarded her with sympathy. “It would probably make things easier if you told him,” he said gently.
“Told him what?” Hera said quickly. “May the Force be with you instead of good luck?” She turned her gaze back out the cockpit, her arms tightening around her.
“No, I mean…” Zeb sighed and pinched between his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m the one getting lumbered with this…look, just tell him--”
“Zeb…” Hera’s tone cut him off. She stared out of the viewport. She’d thought she’d seen something. Some sort of shadow moving in the smoke and the half-light. “Does the mist...look like it’s moving to you?”
Zeb squinted his green sclera eyes. “Yeah...there does seem to be something...almost like--”
Suddenly, the mist sucked in around a bright blue orb that hurtled out of the smoke. Hera and Zeb flinched back as it sailed past them and slammed overhead. Rocks tumbled and rattled against the hull of the ship, the Ghost rocking with the cliff face.
Hera snatched the yoke as more boomas volleyed out of the smog.
“Get the clamp undone before we fall!” she shouted, jerking in her seat as if an earthquake had hit, Zeb already rushing out of the cockpit.
“Blasted Gungans!” he snarled. “No consideration for other people’s plans!”
Squinting hard Hera thought she could see a flood of Kaadu slipping across the plain, feather ornaments streaming out behind them, blue energy hazing on spear tips.
The last remnants making a final desperate attempt to save their home world, no doubt in response to the siege overhead. As much as it disturbed the Spectres’ plans, she couldn’t help but admire them.
“Clamp disengaging in 3…2…1…go!”
Hera slapped the thruster switch and the Ghost’s repulsors lifted it away from the cliff edge, more rock shattering away under the boombas' pummelling. Hera twisted the yoke and banked the Ghost around the outside of the city.
She grimaced and reached for the comm. She wasn’t supposed to contact them, but this was a drastic change.
“The Gungans are attacking?” Kanan skidded to a halt, staring at his wrist comm in disbelief.
“Yeah, I assume it’s in response to the Mandalorians' arrival,” Hera’s voice crackled over the comm.
“That explains the panicked troopers.” He and Ezra had seen more and more of them running off, though they’d managed to pass without getting corralled into a group.
“I’m taking the Ghost away from the action. Signal me when you have Luminara and I’ll pick you up.”
“Got it.”
“Be safe,” Hera said, almost too quiet to hear.
Kanan shut off the comm. He winced a moment later. He hadn’t been sure if Hera intended him to hear that or if she’d been saying it to herself. He didn’t want to make things awkward by responding but now wondered if not replying looked indifferent...
He shook his head. Time and place, Kanan.
Ezra signalled to him from down a short, cramped offshoot corridor and Kanan caught up to him. At the end of it was a door that looked like all the others, but Ezra indicated it confidently. “This is the one.”
Kanan closed his eyes and reached out. Sensing through the door he could feel three presences, all of them agitated. Likely the prison officer and some guards. He extended his senses further along but...
There was something...but he couldn’t quite get a read on it. Faint. Like an echo.
He opened his eyes and stepped forward, Ezra standing to attention at his side. “Okay. I’ll try doing this peacefully, but be ready.”
Ezra nodded and tightened his grip on the blaster rifle.
Kanan took one quick breath and hit the button.
The door snapped open and they stepped into a dark chamber. A long hexagonal corridor, underlit by red light between the slats of the grating, sat up a short flight of steps behind a semi-circle control desk. An officer in a black uniform and cap looked up from the controls, two stormtroopers standing on guard on either side.
“What are you--” the officer began, straightening.
Kanan slowly waved his hand. “We’re here to relieve you,” he said, lacing his voice with the Force and reaching out to touch the officer and the troopers’ minds.
“Brilliant!” the officer said immediately, startling them. “You can take over at once. Let’s go.” He signalled to the stormtroopers and they moved swiftly between Ezra and Kanan and out of the room.
The door slammed shut.
Kanan and Ezra stared at one another.
“I don’t think you needed the mind trick,” Ezra said.
Kanan chuckled and moved behind the control desk. He twizzled one of the dials and the prisoner list appeared on the small screen. The cells were all empty, except one.
“Cell 2187,” Kanan announced. “Go get her, I’ll hold things here.”
“Right!” Ezra took off, leaping up the steps and running down the corridor.
Kanan smiled as he watched him go, then turned back to the screen. He frowned. He reached out and tapped at some of the controls, calling up a map of the Palace. He checked the prison complex, noting the back way out, and then pulled up a full map. It was good to have an exact sense of where everything was. Just in case something went wrong. Because knowing him and his luck--
The door snapped open and he snapped to attention.
His blood froze.
An Inquisitor he’d never seen before walked through the door, blue eyes glinting under the hood.
“I’m here for Luminara Unduli,” the Inquisitor said, voice distorted by her mask.
Ezra’s feet clanged against the grating as he hurtled down the corridor. He glanced left and right, reading the numbers, then skidded as he passed the correct cell. He stepped back to the slanting door and took a deep breath. It was silly, but he felt nervous. He’d spoken with a Master Shaak Ti over the comm after that…well, mess was a charitable way of putting it, on Ballica, but he’d never met an authentic Jedi Master in person before.
No time to waste.
He tapped the button and the door slid up.
Master Luminara Unduli sat on a bench in the austere cell, wearing an orange prison uniform with a grey head covering, her face in her hands.
Her eyes opened and she slowly drew her hands down and looked up at him, her gaze vacant, black diamond tattoos cascading down her chin.
Ezra swallowed. Something didn’t seem right.
“Uh…”
Luminara blinked. She cocked her head slightly.
“You seem a little...short for a stormtrooper…” she said.
“Huh?” Ezra said, confused. Then he twigged. “Oh! Uniform!” He ripped the helmet off his head, his blue hair falling to frame his face. “I’m Ezra Bridger, I’m here to rescue you!”
Luminara looked even more confused.
“I’m with Kanan Jarrus,” Ezra added.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know who that…”
I’m making a terrible first impression.
“We’re with the Rebellion, we’re here to rescue you.”
“Rescue…?” Her voice was soft, her eyes flicking from one side to another. She seemed so out of it Ezra started to wonder if she was drugged. “Yes…rescue…of course…”
Ezra winced. What had they been doing to reduce a Jedi Master to this? He stepped down, holding out a hand to her. “Yes,” he said, reassuring. “We’re going to get you out. We’re Jedi.”
“Jedi?” Her eyes gained some focus and she looked at him anew. “You’re with the Children of the Force?”
“Not exactly. We know of them, but we’re kind of our own…individual…” He nearly hit himself, as the vacant look started shading her eyes again.
Should have just lied!
He decided to go for a direct approach and grabbed her arm. He could explain later. “Come on, we need to go!” he said, pulling her up and out of the cell.
He wasn’t sure it was a great sign that she didn’t resist.
“Which cell is she in?” the Inquisitor asked.
“Uh…well, you see, she isn’t,” Kanan replied, taking a cautious step back.
The Inquisitor’s eyes flashed. “What?”
“She’s been taken. We’re moving her out.” He slipped out from behind the console desk to have more manoeuvrability.
“Where is she now?” the Inquisitor demanded, matching his movement.
“Oh…a transport I think.” He waved a vague hand through the air. “Can’t be too careful with the Mandalorians about, but I imagine that she’s--”
“Kanan, I got her! Let’s--kriff!”
Kanan was very glad the helmet hid his cringing expression from the Inquisitor. Unfortunately, it also hid the glare he shot Ezra, the boy skidding to a panicked halt, dragging a stumbling Luminara Unduli behind him.
Ezra jammed his helmet over his head. “Uh, I mean, TK-123, the prisoner is ready for transport.”
Kanan turned back and smiled to bring levity into his voice. “See? Like I said, being transported. Now don’t worry, we do first class deliv--”
Kanan cut off.
The Inquisitor stared past him, eyes wide like she'd seen a ghost.
He turned his head to follow her gaze and…she was looking right at Luminara Unduli, who stared back curiously. Ezra flicked his helmet between Luminara, the Inquisitor and Kanan.
Kanan turned back, furrowing his brow.
“Master Unduli…” the Inquisitor whispered.
Kanan’s eyes slowly widened, his stomach plummeting.
To his knowledge...Luminara Unduli had only ever had one Padawan...
His lightsabre hissed to life in a burst of blue and he angled it at the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor snapped her gaze to him and moved back slightly. Ezra stumbled in shock, but his hand went to his own blade. Kanan tore off his helmet and chucked it aside, and it clattered as it bounced on the ground.
“Ezra, get her out the back!” Kanan shouted.
The Inquisitor snatched her blade off her back, one crimson beam snapping into being. “Get out of my way you fool!” the Inquisitor snarled.
“Uh, Kanan?! Problem!”
Kanan flicked his gaze over his shoulder at Ezra’s shout. He nearly swore. Ezra was backing away, keeping a visibly shaking Luminara behind him, his lightsabre in his hand though unactivated. Three black armoured Purge Troopers bore down on him from the prison corridor, E-11D blaster carbines at the ready.
The prison door hissed as it snapped open and Kanan whirled back, the Inquisitor twisting to look as well.
Two more Purge Troopers fanned into the room. And between them strode a tall Pau’an, serrated lines running vertically over his skin. Two red tattoos bladed down from his feral yellow eyes and another two scythes of red pointed down his cranium. He wore black armour edged in gold, with a black cape trailing behind him.
A slow grin spread up the Pau’an’s face, revealing shark teeth.
“Well, well,” he said, in a deceptively soothing voice. “What have we here?”