Star Wars: Dark Force Rising

by Timothy Zahn

  “Yes, Councilor,” Virgilio said briskly, and Leia strained her ears in vain for any signs of resentment in that voice. Most of the warship captains she’d known would be highly annoyed at the prospect of taking line orders from a civilian, particularly a civilian with negligible military experience of his own. But then, Fey’lya would hardly have picked the Quenfis for this mission if Virgilio hadn’t been one of his staunchest backers. Just one more indication, if she’d needed it, as to who was really in charge here. “X-wings: launch.”

  There were a series of dull thuds as the two squadrons of starfighters left the ship. “Captain Solo, this is Captain Virgilio. Please respond.”

  “Captain, this is Wing Commander Wedge Antilles of Rogue Squadron,” Wedge’s voice cut in. “May I ask your authorization to order our arrest?”

  “Allow me, Captain,” Fey’lya said, touching the comm switch on the board behind him. “This is Councilor Borsk Fey’lya, Commander Antilles,” he said. “Though I doubt you’re aware of it, Captain Solo is operating illegally.”

  “I’m sorry, Councilor,” Wedge said, “but I don’t understand how that can be. Our orders came from Councilor Leia Organa Solo.”

  “And these new orders come directly from Mon Mothma,” Fey’lya told him. “Therefore, your authorization is—”

  “Can you prove that?”

  Fey’lya seemed taken aback. “I have the order sitting here in front of me, Commander,” he said. “You’re welcome to examine it once you’re aboard.”

  “Commander, for the moment the origin of the arrest order is irrelevant,” Virgilio put in, annoyance starting to creep into his voice. “As a superior officer, I order you to surrender and bring your squadron aboard my ship.”

  There was a long silence. Leia threw a look at Karrde, seated a quarter of the way around the observation deck from her. But his attention was turned outward through the transparisteel bubble, his face impassive. Perhaps he was remembering the last time he’d been to this spot. “What if I refuse?” Wedge asked at last.

  “Forget it, Wedge,” Han’s voice cut in. “It’s not worth risking a court martial over. Go on, we don’t need you anymore. Nice hearing from you, Fey’lya.” There was the faint click of a disconnecting comlink—

  “Solo!” Fey’lya barked, leaning over the comm as if that would do any good. “Solo!” He turned and glared at Leia. “Get over here,” he ordered her, jabbing a finger at the comm. “I want him back.”

  Leia shook her head. “Sorry, Councilor. Han won’t listen to anyone when he’s like this.”

  Fey’lya’s fur flattened. “I’ll ask you one more time, Councilor. If you refuse—”

  He never had a chance to finish the threat. Something flickered at the edge of Leia’s peripheral vision; and even as she turned to look, the Quenfis’s alarms went off. “What—?” Fey’lya yelped, jerking in his seat and looking frantically around him.

  “It’s an Imperial Star Destroyer,” Karrde told him over the blaring of the alarms. “And it appears to be coming this way.”

  “We got company, Rogue Leader,” one of Wedge’s X-wing pilots snapped as the sound of the Quenfis’s alarms came hooting over the comm. “Star Destroyer; bearing one-seven-eight mark eighty-six.”

  “Got it,” Wedge said, turning his ship away from its confrontation with the Quenfis’s approaching starfighters and bringing it around in a tight one-eighty. It was a Star Destroyer, all right: almost straight across from the Quenfis, with the Katana dead center between them. “Luke?” he called.

  “We see it,” Luke’s voice came back tightly. “We’re heading for the docking bay now.”

  “Right—hold it,” Wedge interrupted himself. Against the dark bulk of the Star Destroyer’s lower hull a large group of drive trails had suddenly appeared. “They’re launching,” he told the other. “Twelve marks—drop ships, probably, from the look of the drive trails.”

  “So we hurry,” Han’s voice came on. “Thanks for the warning; now get back to the Quenfis.”

  The comlink clicked and went dead. “Like blazes we will,” Wedge muttered under his breath. “Rogue Squadron: let’s go.”

  Captain Virgilio was trying to say something on the open channel. Switching to his squadron’s private frequency, Wedge kicked the X-wing’s drive to full power and set off toward the Katana.

  In the near distance, just beyond the drive trails of the Quenfis’s X-wings, Rogue Squadron turned and blazed off in the direction of the Star Destroyer. “They’re going to attack,” Fey’lya breathed. “They must be insane.”

  “They’re not attacking—they’re running cover,” Leia told him, staring at the scenario unfolding outside the bubble and trying to estimate interception points. It was going to be far too close. “We need to get over there and back them up,” she said. “Captain Virgilio—”

  “Captain Virgilio, you’ll recall your X-wings at once,” Fey’lya cut her off. “Navigation will prepare to make the jump to lightspeed.”

  “Councilor?” Virgilio asked, his voice sounding stunned. “Are you suggesting we abandon them?”

  “Our duty, Captain, is to get out of here alive and sound the alarm,” Fey’lya countered sharply. “If Rogue Squadron insists on defying orders, there’s nothing we can do for them.”

  Leia was on her feet. “Captain—”

  Fey’lya was quicker, slapping off the intercom before she could speak. “I’m in charge here, Councilor,” he said as she started toward him. “Authorized by Mon Mothma herself.”

  “To blazes with your authority,” Leia snapped. For a handful of heartbeats she had the almost overwhelming urge to snatch her lightsaber from her belt and send it slicing through that bland face …

  With an effort, she choked the urge down. Violent hatred was the path of the dark side. “Mon Mothma didn’t anticipate anything like this happening,” she said, fighting to keep her voice as calm as she could. “Fey’lya, that’s my husband and my brother out there. If we don’t help them, they’ll die.”

  “And if we do help them, they’ll most likely still die,” Fey’lya said coolly. “And your unborn children along with them.”

  An icy knife jabbed at Leia’s heart. “That’s not fair,” she whispered.

  “Reality is not required to be fair,” Fey’lya said. “And the reality in this case is that I will not waste men and ships on a lost cause.”

  “It’s not lost!” Leia insisted, her voice breaking with desperation as she threw a look out the bubble. No; it couldn’t end like this. Not after all she and Han had survived together. She took another step toward Fey’lya—

  “The Quenfis will withdraw,” the Bothan said quietly; and suddenly, from some hiding place within the cream-colored fur, a blaster appeared in his hand. “And neither you nor anyone else is going to change that.”

  “Report from sensors, Captain,” the officer at the Judicator’s scan station called up to the command walkway. “All the other Dreadnaughts in the region read negative for life-forms.”

  “So they’re concentrating on just the one,” Captain Brandei nodded. “That’s where we’ll hit, then. The Rebels will be in far less of a hurry to open fire on a ship that has their own people aboard. Still just the one starfighter squadron moving to intercept?”

  “Yes, sir. The Escort Frigate and other two squadrons haven’t yet responded. They must have been caught off guard.”

  “Perhaps.” Brandei permitted himself a slight smile. So it always went with rebels. They fought like crazed animals when they had nothing to lose; but give them a taste of victory and a chance to enjoy the spoils of war and suddenly they weren’t nearly so eager to risk their lives anymore. One of many reasons why the Empire would ultimately defeat them. “Order the drop ships into defense formation,” he instructed the communications officer. “And have Starfighter Command launch two squadrons of TIE fighters to intercept those X-wings.”

  He smiled again. “And send a message to the Chimaera. Inform the Grand Admiral that
we have engaged the enemy.”

  For a long minute Han gazed out the bridge observation bubble at the approaching Imperial ships, doing a quick estimate of times and distances and ignoring the fidgeting tech men waiting nervously at the bridge doorway. “Shouldn’t we be going?” Luke prompted from beside him.

  Han came to a decision. “We’re not leaving,” he said, thumbing on his oomlink. “We’d get the transport out of the docking bay just in time to run into those drop ships and TIE fighters. Lando?”

  “Right here,” Lando’s voice came tensely back. “What’s happening out there?”

  “Imperials on the way,” Han told him, moving over to the bridge fire-control panel and gesturing the techs to join him. “Rogue Squadron’s moving to intercept, but it sounds like Fey’lya’s crowd is going to run for it.”

  Lando swore under his breath. “We can’t just sit here and let Wedge tackle them alone.”

  “We’re not going to,” Han assured him grimly. “Get busy back there and see what shape the power coupling to the turbolaser batteries is in. We’ll check the fire control up here. And make it fast—once they break formation we won’t be able to hit them.”

  “Right.”

  Han stuck the comlink back in his belt. “How’s it look, Shen?”

  “Looks pretty solid,” the tech’s muffled voice came from underneath the control board. “Kline?”

  “Connections look good here, too,” the other tech reported from a board across the room. “If we can get the computer to enable the system … there we go.” He looked at Han. “You’re all set.”

  Han sat down at the weapons panel, running his eyes over the unfamiliar arrangement of the controls and wondering if all this effort was more than just spitting in vacuum. Even these full-rigged, computer-centralized, slave-circuit-equipped Dreadnaughts still required over two thousand people to fly them.

  But the Imperials wouldn’t be expecting a derelict ship to fire. He hoped. “Here we go,” he muttered to himself as he keyed for visual targeting. The drop ships were still flying in tight formation, using their overlapping shields to protect them from any lucky shots from the approaching X-wings. The faster TIE fighters had caught up with them now, sweeping around the group on all sides and starting to pass them.

  “You’ve got just one shot at this,” Luke murmured.

  “Thanks,” Han growled. “I really needed to hear that.” He took a deep breath, held it, and gently squeezed the fire control triggers.

  The Katana lurched, and as the multiple blazes of turbolaser light flashed outward he felt the double thud of a disintegrating capacitor bank through the deck. Luke had been right—the ship’s first shot had been its last. But it had been worth it. The laser bolts hit the drop ship formation dead center; and suddenly the whole Imperial force seemed to come apart in a blaze of multiple explosions. For a few seconds everything was hidden behind secondary explosions and clouds of debris. Then, through the destruction, a handful of ships shot out. A few more joined them, this group moving with the distinctive limp of damaged property.

  “Looks like you took out five of the drop ships,” Kline reported, peering through a set of macrobinoculars pressed tightly against his face. “A few of the TIE fighters, too.”

  “They’re going into evasive maneuvers,” Luke added.

  “Okay,” Han said, getting up from the chair and pulling out his comlink. “That’s it for that game. Lando?”

  “Whatever you just did, it made a real mess back here,” the other’s voice came back. “Took out the fire-control power coupling and at least one of the generators. What now?”

  “We get ready for a boarding party,” Han told him. “Meet us in the portside main corridor just forward of the docking bay. We’ll see what kind of defense we can set up.”

  “Right.”

  Han shut down the comlink. “Let’s go,” he said.

  “This had better be some defense,” Luke commented as they left the bridge and headed back down the portside corridor. “Especially when we’re talking maybe forty-to-one odds.”

  Han shook his head. “Never tell me the odds,” he admonished the other, glancing at his chrono. It could be any time now. “Besides, you never know when the odds are going to change.”

  “We can’t just abandon them,” Leia said again, dimly aware that she was talking to Fey’lya as if he were a child. “That’s my husband and brother out there, and a dozen good X-wing pilots. We can’t just leave them to the Imperials.”

  “One mustn’t place personal considerations above one’s duty to the New Republic, Councilor,” Fey’lya said. His fur rippled, perhaps with appreciation of his own insight. But the blaster in his hand remained steady. “Surely you understand that.”

  “It’s not just personal considerations,” Leia insisted, fighting hard to keep from losing her temper again. “It’s—”

  “One moment,” Fey’lya interrupted her, touching the intercom switch. “Captain? How soon to lightspeed?”

  “Another minute,” Virgilio’s voice came back. “Perhaps two.”

  “As quickly as you can, Captain,” Fey’lya said. He shut the intercom off again and looked back at Leia. “You were saying, Councilor?”

  Leia consciously unclenched her teeth. If Fey’lya’s aim would only shift—even a little—she might be able to risk jumping him. But as matters stood, she was helpless. Her rudimentary abilities with the Force weren’t nearly strong enough for her to grab or deflect the blaster, and he was nearly a meter out of reach of her lightsaber. “Han and Luke are vitally important to the New Republic,” she said. “If they die or are captured—”

  “The Katana’s firing,” Karrde commented calmly, getting to his feet as if for a better view.

  Leia glanced out the bubble as the distant Imperial ships were engulfed briefly in flame. “They know a great deal about the workings of the New Republic, Fey’lya. Do you want the Empire to get that knowledge?”

  “I’m afraid you’re missing the Councilor’s point, Leia,” Karrde said, walking over to where she sat. He passed in front of her, dropping a data pad casually onto the tracking console beside her as he did so. “You’re concerned about your family, of course,” he continued, walking on a couple of paces before turning to face Fey’lya. “Councilor Fey’lya has a different set of priorities.”

  “I’m sure he does,” Leia said, her mouth suddenly dry as she looked sideways at the data pad Karrde had set down. On its screen was a short message.

  Turn on the intercom and comm.

  She looked up again. Fey’lya’s blaster was still pointed at her, but the Bothan’s violet eyes were turned toward Karrde. Setting her teeth, Leia focused on the board behind him and reached out with the Force … and without even a click the intercom was on. Another effort and the comm was, too. “I don’t understand,” she said to Karrde. “What other priorities could Councilor Fey’lya have?”

  “It’s simple enough,” Karrde said. “Councilor Fey’lya is motivated solely by his own political survival. He’s running away from the fight because he’s put his most ardent supporters aboard this ship and he can’t afford to lose any of them.”

  Leia blinked. “He’s what? But I thought—”

  “That this was the normal crew of the Quenfis?” Karrde shook his head. “Not at all. The captain and senior officers are all that remain, and they were mostly on his side in the first place. That’s why Fey’lya wanted a few hours before leaving Coruscant: so that he could shift duty assignments around and make sure everyone aboard was fully loyal to him.” He smiled thinly. “Not that any of them realized that, of course. They were given the impression that it was a special security arrangement.”

  Leia nodded, feeling cold all over. So it wasn’t just the captain. The entire ship was on Fey’lya’s side.

  Which meant it was over, and she had lost. Even if she was somehow able to take out Fey’lya himself, she had lost.

  “So you can imagine,” Karrde went on offhandedly, “how
reluctant Fey’lya is to risk losing any of them over anything so outmoded as loyalty to one’s comrades. Especially after having worked so hard to convince them of how much he cared for the average fighting man.”

  Leia threw Karrde a sharp look, suddenly seeing where he was going with this. “Is that true, Councilor?” she asked Fey’lya, putting disbelief in her voice. “All this talk about being on the side of the military was nothing more than a play for political power?”

  “Don’t be foolish, Councilor,” Fey’lya said, fur rippling with contempt. “What other use are soldiers to a politician?”

  “Is that why you don’t care if the men of Rogue Squadron die?” Karrde asked. “Because they prefer to stay out of politics?”

  “No one cares if their enemies die,” Fey’lya said coldly. “And all those who are not on my side are my enemies.” He gestured with his blaster. “I trust, Captain Karrde, that I need not say more.”

  Karrde raised his eyes from Fey’lya to the view outside. “No, Councilor,” he said. “I believe you’ve said enough.”

  Leia followed his gaze. Between the Quenfis and the Katana, in twos and threes, Fey’lya’s X-wing squadrons were heading to Wedge’s support. Deserting the politician who had just defined the limits of his consideration for their welfare. “Yes,” she murmured. “You’ve said enough.”

  Fey’lya frowned at her; but even as he started to speak the door to the bridge slid open. Captain Virgilio stood there, flanked by two soldiers. “Councilor Fey’lya,” he said stiffly. “I respectfully request you return to your quarters. These men will accompany you.”

  Fey’lya’s fur flattened. “I don’t understand, Captain.”

  “We’re closing off this room, sir,” Virgilio said, his voice respectful but with an edge. Stepping over to the Bothan’s seat, he leaned toward the intercom. “This is the captain,” he called. “All hands to battle stations.”

  The alarm promptly went off … and in Fey’lya’s eyes Leia could see the sudden shock of understanding. “Captain—”