"Only pick fights that aren't guaranteed to kill you."
Leave it to Darth Angral to make killing all of his trusted subordinates feel a lot less impactful. Well, not all of them, technically; Lord Praven was currently being a very ethically objectionable piece of decor for King Bouris Ulgo, but I was willing to round up.
Was it a bad sign that I was willing to round up the number of people I had gotten killed? Where was I on that count, anyhow? Far too high for my liking (read: more than zero), no doubt. Oh, this was not going to look good for me when my time came, I just knew it.
"So how deep in it are we?" I asked from the relative safety of the oversized freighter that had been crewed solely by a spiteful old engineering genius and a Jedi Padawan. After killing Lord Nefarid and bringing his operation down around his head, we had returned to my ship to figure out our next steps away from prying eyes and ears.
"About halfway up the neck," the Jedi Knight's padawan said dryly. "Possibly chin-deep."
All around us in the impromptu command center that had once been the lounge of my freighter, the rest of our little band nodded their heads or muttered in agreement. Of course, it was not just our little band that was in attendance. Joining us in miniature from another planet was General Var Suthra, a Mon Calamari officer who had been an integral part of the Republic Superweapon Initiative.
"Just because we've managed to deny Darth Angral access to our superweapons doesn't mean he's without option," he said in the growly voice of his species. "Clearly, he had a backup plan."
Calling it a backup plan was an understatement.
On the galaxy map hovering above in the air of the lounge, a not-insignificant part was highlighted in red. The narrow slice - more like a corridor, really - started near the boundary of the Inner and Mid Rim and thrust towards the Core. No, towards the Deep Core. And I had a very uncomfortable feeling about that outermost point of the red.
"That starting point… that's Zyg Prime," I said. As if on cue, another world on the galaxy map flashed red. That one was dangerously close to the Core Worlds, too. Just sitting around and watching it happen felt wrong, but what else could I do? There was no way to save all of them at once. A frontal assault needed a single target to be successful.
"You're correct, Lord Nestor," said the general, bobbing his head in a very human motion. "Darth Angral's counterattack started there with a raid on the storage facilities of the Combine of Zyg that seized at least four squadrons' worth of snub fighters."
"Four squadrons," I said, casting another glance at the map. "Forty-eight snubfighters. General, I am not a military man, but that does not look like forty-eight snubfighers' worth of damage."
"Perhaps not directly," he allowed before turning towards the Jedi Knight. "Master Jedi, if you would be so kind as to add the changes from our personal communications channel?"
A few moments later, the red shadow on the galaxy map now had several more shining yellow points.
"So they've attacked two dozen systems in the past few hours," Natia commented. "Big deal. How much damage could it have done?"
"The yellow markers are fuel stations," the general pointed out. "The red zone is the area they serve. If you would be so kind as to stop and think for a moment, you will notice that any ship trying to reach that corridor cannot refuel for at least two parsecs in either direction."
"In other words, Darth Angral has a clear shot at the Core," the Jedi Knight extrapolated. "And the Deep Core within."
"To repeat my earlier point with smaller words: how?" I asked. "Forty-eight snub fighters and a heavy cruiser should not make that much of a dent in the Republic. Unless I am missing something, General?"
"We call that the advantage of a surprise attack in the business, Lord Nestor," the alien general said. His tone shifted then into an approximation of humor, but it was hard to tell; I did not spend enough time with Mon Calamari to be able to differentiate. "Reports indicate six Aurek-class strike fighters hitting each fuel station in quick succession. The Oppressor then moved in on those that were left intact to fill its own tanks and wreak havoc in overcrowded systems. Most recent estimates have it mid-way through the colonies."
"And there were no naval forces stationed in that sector of space?" Loa asked.
"As a matter of fact, there were," the general retorted. "Unfortunately, Thranta-class corvettes were not designed to withstand a sustained broadside from Harrower-class cruisers or a dozen proton torpedoes to the command deck. And while a Valor-class cruiser might be a match for a Harrower, those extra fighters tipped the scales."
"Then we need to give chase," the Jedi Knight declared.
"Where to?" I asked. "And with what fleet?"
"You start to worry about being outgunned now?" the Little Jedi asked.
"All the other times, we had a chance to win," I countered. "You tend to be more than a match for a Sith Lord, last I checked, but I'd rather not see how that compares to a Harrower."
"I thought you secured the Alderaanian fleets," the Jedi Knight said, his brow furrowing.
"Close. I made a pitch that is almost guaranteed to land," I corrected. "But I still need time for the houses to respond."
"We don't have time," he pointed out. "Every hour we delay is another hour Darth Angral has to get closer to his goal."
"Which is what exactly?" Natia asked. "A single cruiser and a hundred-fifty fighters are hardly enough to take Coruscant. And if his goal is mindless destruction, there isn't much we can do to predict his next target."
"No, I think we can," said the Jedi Knight. "When I killed Lord Tarnis on Coruscant, I took what Darth Angral cared about most. Since I don't have a son of my own, he would go for the closest alternative."
Part of me wanted to go for the humorous suggestion that Angral was going after the Knight's daughter, but this was neither the time nor the place.
"Tython, then?" I guessed, even if it did not make much sense from a logistical point of view.
"Precisely," he confirmed with a confident nod.
"Tython," I repeated myself, shooting glances at the rest of our group. The apprentices shared some confused looks. Razma, to her credit, was paying close attention. "In the Deep Core? The region that's known for being infamously hard to navigate? The system that was lost for thousands of years?"
"Lord Tarnis was able to infiltrate the Republic's most secure programs," General Var Suthra pointed out. "It is very possible that he was able to pass along the location and relevant navigational data for Tython."
"That data would be weeks out of date at its most recent," I pointed out.
"Which makes it all the more relevant to move quickly and cut him off before he has the chance to capitalize on it."
"Again: with that forces?" I asked. "If we wait a day, this will be all over the news. Hell, I bet if we wait an hour it will be all over the news. An attack from a rogue Sith Lord on the Republic, and the noble houses of Alderaan already have the perfect excuse to go hunt him down. It'll be a huge PR win for them!"
"Like how it'll be a huge PR win for the corporate sector if they support us?" the Little Jedi asked. Right, I'd almost forgotten pitching that idea back at the start of this little collaborative venture. An idea that had stalled quite quickly.
"The corporate sector would miss out on profit and security for their freighters by helping us," I pointed out. "The noble houses of Alderaan would miss out on the chance to turn some imperials into dust particles."
"So that's your plan?" the Jedi Knight asked. "Wait for a reaction and then react according to that reaction?"
"What's the alternative?" I asked. "Run in after them and hope Darth Angral is feeling sporting and doesn't vaporize us on the spot?"
"Could we get the Republic fleet to help us?" Razma asked. "They should know the way to Tython, shouldn't they?"
Ah, my apprentice, how good of you to point out the simple explanation so many of us are missing.
"General?" I asked, turning back to the hologram of the officer. "You wouldn't happen to have a trio of Valor-class cruisers that you could spare?"
"I'm a general in charge of a research project, Lord Nestor, not an admiral," he said in that eternally grumbly voice of his. His figure shifted, those big bulbous eyes swiveling in what was presumably a Mon Calamari gesture. "I can try to arrange for something, but there's no guarantee they'll get there on time. Especially when there are several sectors in need of clean-up and security details."
Right. Devastated systems and infrastructure needed a government response.
"So… what happens when Darth Angral makes it to Tython?" Loa asked.
"If I had to guess?" the Knight asked. "He'll bombard the Jedi Academy from orbit as well as the pilgrim settlements."
"Why not call ahead?" Razma asked. "It's not like a single cruiser can bombard an entire world on its own. At least not in any realistic time frame. The Jedi there would be able to leave Tython or go into hiding until Darth Angral gets bored and leaves."
"Razma?" I asked.
"Nestor?" she asked in turn.
"You're a genius."
"So I've been told." Beaming with pride, she put her hands on her hips. The girl only barely flinched when she touched the unfamiliar lightsaber that was hanging there.
"She makes a valid point," the Little Jedi pointed out. "Darth Angral's ability to do much harm to an entire planet is limited."
"You cannot be serious," The Knight said. "This is Tython. Tython! The ancestral home of the Jedi!"
"I'm certain she would be singing a different tune if it were Corellia," I said, deciding that I did not need more intenicene feuding between allies in my immediate future. "But the fact of the matter is, there is nothing we can do without the Alderaanian fleet. Or the Republic fleet."
From the front of the ship, Levin words shouted words drifted back to us. "Incoming call from the surface for one 'Lord Varalica!'"
"Isn't that house extinct?" asked Razma.
"Patch it through to the lounge!" I shouted back.
"This hunk of junk isn't set up for multiple open channels!"
"Fine, fine. Who is it?" I called, hurrying over to the cockpit. The wide-open space gave a commanding view of space in front of the freighter, currently taken up by the Death Mark Satellite gently rotating in low orbit, but it could not have fit everyone as comfortably as the lounge.
Perfectly on cue, the proud figure of King Bouris Ulgo flickered into existence in miniature in the center console. The figure faced the pilot's seat, currently occupied by Levin who quite rapidly vacated the seat for me.
"Hello, Your Highness," I greeted the man who was, technically speaking, my liege for all matters Alderaan. Since I was, on paper, an Alderannian noble, he was my king. Allegedly. The details were still up for debate. Feudal systems of government could get a bit odd like that.
"Lord Varalica," he greeted me. "Everything went well, I take it?"
"No more rogue Sith Lords remain on Alderaan," I confirmed. "Though I cannot speak for the ones sent to House Thul for liaison purposes."
"I should have expected as much," he allowed. "What I did not expect was the rogue Sith Lord with a warship making himself a nuisance so quickly."
"Darth Angral moved rather more quickly than anticipated," I allowed.
"How very convenient for you," he grumbled, scratching at his chin. "Much like how it's very convenient that you bargained for the use of my ships shortly before there is a very public need for them. Funny how that works."
"I will inform Darth Angral that his sense of comedic timing knows no bounds," I said dryly. "Would I prefer I deliver the news in person or from a distance?"
"I would prefer you deliver it with a broadside of a warship," he said. "Say, from a trio of Thrantas. I'm lending you the Hammer of Ulgo, Spear of Panteer, and Vengeance of Trask. Try and keep them in one piece."
"His next of kin can foot the repair bill," I said. "Thank you, Your Highness. I will use them well."
"See that you do, my vassal. Let the galaxy know that though the Republic may turn its back on House Ulgo, House Ulgo remains one of its foremost patriots. Ulgo Out." Before I had a chance to comment on how that remark sounded very well rehearsed, the transmission cut off.
And my face, though hidden by the mask, wore the biggest of smiles.
Oh, yes, this would do splendidly. For a start, at least.
"Would you look at that, you can get quieter," Levin muttered. "And there's another transmission from the surface."
So this was what it was like for things to go right. I could get used to this.
...
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