“...yes, thank you, Captain. Please convey my regards to your crew.”
The elder officer closed the channel, and the holographic figure of a human Republic Navy lieutenant commander, which I recognized as being that of Quitas Nell, vanished. Admiral Dodonna then turned to regard her visitors, a smile easing itself onto her visage. “That was Captain Nell of Zapdash, reporting that her ship is now at full combat readiness. Quickdraw reported the same condition only a few minutes prior.”
“What of the rest of the fleet?” Master Kavar inquired.
“Last-minute preparations are still underway,” the admiral replied, taking a seat. “The effort to bring Wrangler back up to fighting condition is delaying our efforts elsewhere, but all things considered, the tradeoffs seem worth it. We cannot remain here much longer if we hope to successfully spring our trap, however.” She shook her head slightly, as though trying to dispel a haze of thought. “Thankfully, the rest of the galaxy hasn't collapsed around us while we were en route to the rendezvous point, and Fleet Command has been appraised of our situation. I have been granted final approval to commence the operation at my discretion.”
“Did they receive my correspondence in regards to Lieutenant Ibratu'na and the rest of his people?” I asked.
“Yes, they did, as well as a report on what transpired with your implants.”
I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose at that, but the Marine Corps bureaucracy needed to know about anything that could affect my ability to perform my duties. The same stipulation applied to everyone in the fleet, of course, but given the nature of my circumstances... Well, at least you're back on your feet, I thought to myself instead. “Thank you, Admiral.”
“You are most welcome,” she replied, then her smile faded somewhat. “Tell me of Wrangler, though. Were you able to put your idea into practice?”
“Yes, we were, with help from Battleaxe and her generous supplies,” I said confidently. “Lieutenant Dan'kre should be liaising with Vibrosword's communications and sensor officers as we speak; I expect that by the time we jump off, we'll have this end of the system fully in place and you'll be able to target them as you see fit. The yield of the explosives, combined with the interceptors' own fuel stores, should be around four point three times that of capital ship-grade proton torpedoes.”
The admiral nodded, satisfied. “What of the general mood of the remaining crew?”
Master Kavar cleared his throat before answering for me. “They want to fight with us, that much is clear. As you know, however, we've had to pull additional personnel from all over the fleet to fill out their compliment, which has been severely depleted; Battleaxe is, even now, assembling a new command crew. If Wrangler survives the upcoming battle, I recommend that the ship be sent back to Corellia immediately for refit and an entirely new roster, while those who arrived with her should be given immediate furlough and then reassigned to other vessels.”
Admiral Dodonna blinked for a moment in disquiet. “Are things that serious?” she asked haltingly.
The Jedi Master inclined his head toward me. “Admiral, they've been through just about every kind of hell you can imagine,” I said, rising from my seat and stepping over to the holoprojector. After tapping in a series of commands, the scenes of Terep's madness and the troopers' confrontation played itself out before them, and the fleet commander blanched. “I don't have details, but given how Commander Farfax described it, I suspect that the patrol they encountered immediately prior to this incident included Bastila Shan, aboard the Endar Spire.”
“Captain Reyolé is correct,” the Jedi Master confirmed. “Three weeks ago, the Endar Spire, along with the Feldnar Spire and the 37th Starfighter Squadron, encountered an unidentified Sith Interdictor-class cruiser in the Upestis system, an uninhabited binary star system about three parsecs Coreward of the Corellian Run, driving it off after a short skirmish. Bastila forwarded the report when I asked her to join us on this mission. However, I wanted to verify that this was indeed the same warship from that battle before informing you.”
“I understand, Master Kavar,” Admiral Dodonna replied, her sense coming back under control. “Thank you for the updates, I will take your suggestions under advisement and update Fleet Command before our departure. We should be making the final jump in approximately three hours, dropping out again ten hours after that.”
The three of us rose, and I exchanged salutes with the fleet commander before the Jedi Master and I saw ourselves out of the wardroom.
The boarding party's reaction to the holorecording was very similar to that given by the admiral; some gasped audibly, others simply bore looks of utter horror, and one of the newer privates came close to being sick. I didn't need to explain to them what it meant, but it was quite effective at capturing their attention for this final briefing. “I hope you enjoyed your day off, people,” I said in low tones, once the dramatic confrontation had finished. “What you have just witnessed really happened. This is the full power of the Force, in use by a dark-sider who has lost all control over his body and mind. If any of you had doubts before, let this be a reminder to you of how dangerous facing a Force-user can be.”
I paused for a few moments to let the enormity of the recording, as well as my advice, set in and churn about in the minds of those present, which included Lieutenant Dan'kre and the five Jedi of Bastila Shan's team. “Here are your final orders,” I began again, withdrawing my personal datapad from its pocket and motioning for the platoon to do the same. Once they had done so, I entered a sequence of commands that transmitted the various files to their intended recipients. “These bytes contain your final squad rosters, tactical comm frequencies, and updates to the infiltration plans. We jump off at 2100 hours, and will be arriving at our target destination at 0700 hours tomorrow. I want everyone up and ready to move at 0630, in case we get yanked out of hyperspace a bit early, so save your chatter and do your best to rest up for the battle to come. Any questions?”
Private Goss raised his hand. “Which squad will you be marching with, Captain?”
“We'll see when we get there,” I said simply. “I don't know what we'll find once we board—that is, if we make it aboard—so I won't be able to commit us to a course of action until then. In the meantime, everyone should keep all three plans in mind, because I might ask you to switch from one to either of the others at any time.”
“What's our priority once we make it aboard?” the staff sergeant leading First Squad asked.
“I'm glad you asked that, Sergeant,” I replied grimly. “Just before we left, the fleet received intelligence about new anti-intruder measures the Sith have taken. Immediately after we land, the Jedi strike team and I will debark and do our best to neutralize the docking bay's internal defenses. Once one of us gives the 'all clear' signal, fall out by squads and move on to the plan you've been assigned, dispensing your trip mines at your own discretion.” Among the weaponry that had been issued to each soldier in the platoon was a nasty little toy that combined a proximity fuse with a crude identify friend/foe sensor. If the simple package didn't pick up the small lithium patch each of us had applied to our armor or clothing, it would detonate a plasma charge designed to roast anyone unlucky enough to be caught within a three meter radius, armor or no. Even I hadn't known about these until I'd had the chance to examine the equipment for myself, which seemed to indicate that it was a very recent addition to the Republic's arsenal. “Other than that, your priorities are to stay alive, kill as many Sith as you can, and keep the way clear for the Jedi and your fellow soldiers. Anything else? No? Then you're all dismissed until 0630, where we'll meet at the lander for boarding.”
The platoon filed out, followed by Lieutenant Ibratu'na, who offered me a bow as he exited the room. This left only Silas, Bastila, myself, and the other Jedi. “I get the feeling you want to ask me something, Mr. Dan'kre,” I said obliquely, shooting him a quizzical glance.
“It can wait, ma'am,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable.
“As you wish,” I replied. “I need to get some rack time myself; working over on Wrangler tired me out.”
The Bothan and I exchanged salutes, and he left the room. I was about to follow him when Bastila put her hand on my shoulder. “Laera, a moment please,” she said as Noi-Vas Jenn nodded and stepped closer.
“Alright, Bastila, but only a moment. It's been a long day and I really do need the rest.”
“I understand,” she said with some concern. “Master Kavar told us of what transpired aboard Wrangler and what you have learned, but we wanted to be sure; that's part of the reason we came to this briefing.”
I turned to face Bastila and the other Knights and attempted to get a sense of what they were trying to get out of me. They seemed to have prepared for this, however, because they'd managed to clamp down on their auras so that I could only pick up vague surface impressions. While I could have penetrated their defenses, it would have taken more effort than I had to give at the moment, and as fellow Jedi, they deserved some measure of mental privacy. Still, it didn't take a genius, or a Jedi, to put two and two together and arrive at an educated guess as to what was bothering them. “You still think this is some sort of trap, some kind of 'taopari in nerf's clothing' gag, right?”
“That ship was cloaked in darkness,” Noi-Vas Jenn put in, his voice subdued. “Even from Vibrosword we could feel it, the pain, anger and despair, like a bloodstain upon the stars.”
“Very poetic, Jenn,” I retorted irritably, crossing my arms over my chest. I couldn't help it; these people were intent on interrogating me and I was in desperate straits from dealing with everything that was going on. “Had you bothered to come over for yourselves, you would have felt that they're on the path of redemption. We personally cleaned out their armory, they've got a Republic command crew overseeing operations, and there are enough of our personnel on board that, even if this is a trap, there's nothing they can really do to hurt us. They have no idea what we're truly after, and if we all manage to survive, things are likely to remain that way. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed—if you want more details, go and bug Master Kavar.”
Without so much as a nod or gesture, I walked out of the room and back to my quarters.
Though I wanted to throw myself into blissful unconsciousness immediately, I knew that it would be a mistake to do so. Instead, I knelt on the small space of open floor and meditated, centering myself within the Force. Noi-Vas Jenn had been correct, that vessel was indeed a flying emotional wreck, and if the Republic weren't in such dire need of warships, I would have recommended that it be decommissioned, disassembled, and its parts melted down for scrap. But we needed Wrangler, we needed the flying bombs that she now carried, and we needed the extra set of deflector shields and turbolasers to fight Darth Revan's fleet and protect the flagship. For an hour I knelt there, breathing in the light and exhaling the residual darkness that had clung to me after returning to Vibrosword. Balancing myself and my connection to the Force so as to go into battle fully-rested and without distractions, I deliberately avoided probing for a hint of what was to come. Many years of experience as both a Marine and a Jedi had taught me that worrying about things beyond my control was a futile waste of energy. We had done everything possible to maximize our odds of success, now it was up to us to simply do what we had come here for and get the hell out.
As I finished my meditations, feeling properly tired instead of simply mentally exhausted (there's a difference, trust me), I stood up and disrobed, tucking my uniform under my rack and laying down. Just as I closed my eyes, I felt the vibrations through the deck and bulkheads of Vibrosword that indicated a successful jump to lightspeed. We were off.
“Atten-SHUN!”
The forty fully-armed and armored men and women of Lieutenant Ibratu'na's platoon snapped to attention at his order as I, similarly clad but bearing only my lightsaber and DL-3 sidearm, entered the hangar bay, helmet tucked under my arm. “At ease,” I said simply, returning the officer's salute. “Is everyone ready?”
“Hoo-ahh!” they shouted in unison as the hatchway opened again.
“You're forty-three seconds late, Mr. Dan'kre,” I said, my gaze still on the assembled troopers. “Did you stop by the commissary to pick up the latest issue of Gentlebeings Quarterly?”
That got a laugh out of the men in the platoon; the women simply nodded knowingly. Silas, on the other hand, looked slightly stricken, but I chalked that up to nerves. He had always had trouble with pre-mission jitters—hell, anyone with half a working brain who's about to go into battle should have similar feelings—but he seemed to be just a bit more out of sorts than I remembered. In any case, whatever was bothering him would assert itself in time, or else get pushed aside completely once the blaster bolts started flying. So I took advantage of the momentary absence of the other Jedi and addressed the group of soldiers one last time.
“This is it, what we came here for,” I began, my tone even and firm. “Know that you are now Marines in spirit if not yet in name. Know too that whatever happens in the next few hours will affect each and every one of us for the rest of our lives. This isn't about light versus darkness, the Republic versus the Sith, or anything else. This is us, just us, going into battle one more time. Watch each others' backs, help each other out, and fight like I know you can. Do that, and we will succeed.”
As if on cue, the hatchway hissed open once more as I finished my address, admitting Bastila and her people into the bay. I turned with parade-ground precision to face them. “First Marine Strike Platoon all present and accounted for,” I said crisply. The name was by no means official, but it felt good to say and I could sense the pride in the troopers assembled behind me.
“Thank you, Captain Reyolé,” Bastila replied mechanically. At least she remembered you're a Marine first, I thought to myself, concealing a satisfied smile. “We still have twenty minutes until reversion.”
I nodded, then turned back to the formation. “Platoon, helmets on! Seal up and mount up, go go go!”
The small bay, which had fallen to near-silence, was overrun with a cacophony of noise as eighty-four booted feet broke formation and entered the lander's five hatchways, which had already been opened, in magnificent order. Not a minute after I'd given the word, everyone was ensconced in a seat, bucking themselves in quickly and confidently. I took a station near the forward port egress hatch, alongside the bulkhead that separated the troop compartment from the dropship's vital systems and, in turn, the cockpit, where a small intercom switch and pickup were placed. “Internal comm check, Jenth Esk Two Two Eight.” I said into it once I'd strapped in.
“Jenth Esk Two Two Eight,” the reply came back smartly. “Pilot, gunners and flight engineer reporting. We have a green board for engine prestart.”
“Green board acknowledged, you are go for prestart of repulsorlifts and sublight engines. Ignition and liftoff to commence on command of Admiral Dodonna.”
“Acknowledged, we are commencing prestart sequence and sealing hatches.”
“Very well,” I said, concluding the conversation for now as the bay was filled with the hissing of well-tended hydraulics. “Swift flying and sure shooting, out.”
I half-expected the Jedi to sit themselves opposite the forward hatches on the port and starboard sides of the lander, and I wasn't disappointed. Bastila, however, had taken the seat closest to the rear exit ramp, and seemed to have gone into a meditative stance. I knew at once what she was doing, and for the first time I had cause to wonder if battle meditation worked in hyperspace. The crew of Vibrosword would certainly begin feeling more confident, but the rest of the fleet... Well, that's for us to find out, isn't it? I said lightly to myself as I turned toward Silas, who as usual had taken the seat right next to mine. “You okay?” I asked him over our private channel as the lander began to vibrate, its systems coming fully online after having been on standby for the past half-hour.
His sense spoke of reluctance, but I attempted to bolster his confidence by laying a hand on his armored knee and caressing his aura with the Force. Oddly, this made him even more nervous, and he didn't reply. I withdrew my hand and connection, but continued to query him. “Silas, what's wrong?”
“I've been thinking, Captain,” he said after a beat. “Over the past few days, you've begun acting...oddly...toward me. I know humans and your mannerisms well enough; not as well as my own people, but the signs are there. Subtle, but there.”
My innards squirmed a bit as I took this in. I didn't need the Force to tell me what his statement meant, but it sure helped—not that I wanted such help. “Go on,” I said, managing not to betray how I felt in my voice.
“Things you've said to me,” he began, as though ticking off items on a list. “The way you alternate between my clan name and given name, even in front of other officers. Your relaxed attitude when we're on duty together. How you invited me to your quarters for drinks the other evening and how you behaved toward me as that evening drew on. And that somewhat flippant display on the bridge of Wrangler. Forgive me if this is in error, Captain, but I think you have developed feelings for me that go beyond our professional relationship.”
I was, at the same time, both outraged and immensely relieved. Silas wasn't stupid; in fact, he was one of the smartest Marines I'd ever known. He was also highly intuitive, both traits being essentials of the slicer trade, near as I could tell. I hadn't really counted on him putting the pieces together so quickly, however, though I should have expected it. Therefore, I chose to go with my gut and told him the truth. He deserved to know, and there was nothing to be gained by holding back now. “You...you're right, Silas,” I said dolefully. “I'm sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable.”
“On the contrary, ma'am,” he said, gently putting my hand back on his knee and covering it with his own, his aura radiating warmly with awe and relief. “Now that we're on the same wavelength, I must confess that I've always admired you, even from afar. You taught me how to stay cool under fire, and you've saved my life at least three times. On top of that, you have always put the needs of the unit above your own, and you're probably the finest combat leader I've ever known.” He paused for a moment, wondering. “I do have to ask, though...have you always felt this way?”
“No...” I confessed, after a few moments of feeling things out. “It was only recently, after I'd taken ill, that these feelings manifested themselves. You were the only familiar sensation for me as I recovered, and I feel as though I unconsciously locked onto you as a source of comfort.” I paused for a moment, unsure how to proceed. “Silas, I don't know if this is love or something else, or even if it could work out between us; Jedi aren't supposed to have attachments. In any case, you...you deserved to know.”
“I understand, Captain,” he replied. “And I'm glad that I was able to pay you back for all you had done for me. But...maybe this isn't a hydrospanner in the works. Maybe it's something for us to fight for instead of against.”
“If that's the case, then maybe you should start calling me Laera,” I suggested, squeezing his hand and smiling underneath my helmet. Oh, sweet release... I cooed to myself as my spirits soared.
At that exact moment, the compartment was filled with a keening series of warning klaxons. The fleet was dropping out of hyperspace, and the Force was suddenly boiling over with a tumult of emotions.