CHAPTER FIVE
Poe pulled off his helmet as he rose out of the opened cockpit of his X-wing. He looked around the now-crowded hangar bay of the Crait Base as technicians rushed to attend to the many fighters that had just landed after having arrived from the Ileenium system. While he was pleased to see all eleven of his Rogues were present and accounted for, such elation was quickly dashed when he noted that Tallie and Aftab were missing fighters from their respective squadrons. From Blue Squadron, he saw Wrobie Tyce rush out to embrace her wife Larma D’Acy, while Shasa Zaro and Lega Fossang from Gold Squadron consoled each other.
All things considered, he knew the outcome of the battle could have been much, much worse than what it was now. The First Order had been surprisingly merciful, and he still wasn’t quite sure why. Regardless, the defeat stung and his face was glum as he climbed down the ladder of his X-wings.
BB-8 squealed as he launched out of his socket and landed hard on the salty ground next to Poe’s feet. He looked down at the ball-shaped astromech with a reproachful look.
“You know I don’t like it when you do that,” he said. “You’re gonna break something one of these days. Just wait for the technicians to pull you out like they do with all of the other astromechs.”
BB-8 warbled something to him, which Poe took from his decent understanding of droidspeak to be a comment about “those other astromechs” being old models that were overdue for retirement. Poe simply shook his head before looking up to see General Organa approaching him. He quickly snapped to attention and saluted but Leia waved for him to ease.
“I’m glad to see you and your pilots made it here safely, Commander Dameron,” she said. “How many did you lose at D’Qar?”
“By my count? At least seven altogether.” Poe shook his ruefully. “Not as many as I thought we’d lose, given the circumstances, but still seven more than what I would have wanted to lose.”
Leia nodded, her expression sympathetic. “You’re not alone. We can go over the details at the debriefing. Before that, I want you to get some rest. I’m going to have another mission for you and your Rogues.”
“We’re ready for anything, General.”
Leia smiled, thought it carried a hint of sadness in it. “I know you will be, Poe.”
Her use of his first name caught him off-guard, and by the time he recovered she had already moved on to speak to Tallie and Aftab. At first he wondered why she had spoken to him in such a personal manner, dropping all pretense of formalities, until he remembered that she had known and worked with both his parents during the Galactic Civil War. His father Kes had been one of the Pathfinders serving with her and General Solo during their mission on the Forest Moon of Endor, and his mother Shara Bey had flown alongside Leia during an Imperial attack on Naboo. Since then, the Damerons had had a close relationship with the Solo-Skywalker clan; he had even helped train Leia’s daughter Jaina when she had started flying starfighters.
Since his mother’s passing, he had come to see Leia as a surrogate mother, even if they did not spent much time together outside of formal or military circumstances. Sometimes he wondered if she felt the same way, especially after she had lost her firstborn son a mere two years before he had lost his mother.
A questioning beep from BB-8 brought him to the present moment. He looked down at the astromech and smiled.
“I’m fine, buddy. C’mon, let’s rest up before our next mission.”
BB-8 warbled his agreement before following Poe as he made his way through the cavernous base.
* * *
Danielle Kieran, formerly the pirate queen Kestora, sat in a cell aboard the First Light, something that had once belonged to her but was now her prison.
She had lost count of the hours. Had it been two days since Viira had told the Errant Venture to meet with the Veiled Sorority at Numidian Prime? She supposed she would find out when someone came by to bring her to her execution.
She wondered how she would be killed. Were it anyone else, a blaster shot would have been most likely. But Viira had become rather attached to the lightsaber she had found on Socorro and proudly displayed it on her new garb as the Pirate Queen. If there was an opportunity for Viira to behead someone with her new weapon, then she certainly wasn’t going to pass it up.
Dani leaned her head against the steel wall at the end of her bunk. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so focused on finding Cera, she would have seen this mutiny coming from parsecs away. Or perhaps it never would have happened at all. There was no way to know that now, and she wasn’t one who liked to dwell on “what-ifs.”
The door to her cell opened and she turned her head to face it, expecting to see either Viira, Lavira, or any of her other close crew members. Instead, standing there was a woman with hair as white as snow, with similarly-colored eyes to match. Or eye, rather; her right eye was covered by a gold-plated cybernetic that extended up into her hairline and down her cheek. It took Dani a moment to place her, and she knew it wasn’t because she was part of her crew.
“You,” she said, sitting up straight and turning around fully to face the Arkanian woman. “You were with the Curator.”
“Correct,” the Arkanian replied, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. “You may call me Lunara.”
“What are you doing here? Did Viira accept you into her crew?”
Lunara shook her head. “I have been hiding on the First Light ever since the incident on Ord Mantell. I am intimately familiar with the yacht’s layout from when it was under the ownership of Curator Tyrius and know exactly where the best places to hide are. No one—besides you now, of course—knows of my presence her.”
Dani narrowed her eyes as she studied the Arkanian woman carefully. “What do you want then? Why are you here?”
“As I’m sure you’re aware, Sal Tyrius is someone who is… quite interested in historical artifacts. An interest you apparently share, based on your collection aboard this star yacht.”
Dani shook her head. “They’re not mine. They’ve been here ever since I inherited this ship from my mother, and she took it from her old employer. I’m pretty sure it’s his collection.”
“Regardless, you are sitting on a treasure trove of priceless artifacts. One that Curator Tyrius would be much appreciative to receive for his own collection.”
“Tyrius is dead. My crew found his body when they were cleaning things up after the droid incident.”
“You don’t know much about Arkanians, do you?” Lunara’s lips twitched slightly, displaying the smallest hint of a smile. “Death is a trivial obstacle for some of us.”
Dani stared at the white-haired woman, wondering if she had simply lost it. “What are you trying to get at?” she asked, her voice coming out as a whisper.
“My offer is simple: I will help you avoid execution at the hands of your former crewmates if you help me deliver the First Light and its collection to Arkania. You will not have to give up the First Light itself, merely the collection of artifacts it carries. I promise you that the Curator will pay you enough to buy three more Kalevalan star yachts.”
Despite herself, Dani considered the offer. The last thing she wanted to do was to work with someone like Tyrius, or anyone associated with him. But she also needed some way to escape her former crew and perhaps get to the Smugglers’ Alliance, who were possibly on their way if they had taken Viira up on her offer. And if getting to them meant getting to Cera….
“All right,” she said, rising to her feet. “But I have one condition.”
Lunara rose an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’re in any position to make conditions when I can easily leave you to die.”
“Or I can alert everyone to your presence and get you thrown out at best. Maybe even convince them to sell or destroy that collection your curator so desperately wants.”
Lunara smirked. “I stand corrected. Very well, what is your condition?”
Dani told her. In less than a minute, she was being led out of her cell and through the corridors of the First Light.
* * *
The arboreal world of Numidian Prime came into view as the Errant Venture exited hyperspace. Straight ahead was a Sphyrna-class Hammerhead corvette, which Toah knew to be the Queen’s Hammer. He stood on the bridge with Booster Terrik along with Kyla’s Renegades, his daughter among them. Tempted as he was to say something to her, he decided it would be best to keep quiet until after the meeting with the Veiled Sorority… provided it went smoothly and without any problems.
Within minutes, the Errant Venture was hailed and the call was answered, allowing Viira’s image to materialize on the viewscreen. The Twi’lek pirate now wore the mask of the Pirate Queen, modified slightly to make room for her twin lekku. She was also fully dressed in the same uniform that Dani had worn when she had gone by Queen Kestora; from what Toah understood, it was the traditional garb of the Pirate Queen among the Veiled Sorority, leftover from a discarded concept of the Pirate Queen being an immortal figure.
“Welcome to Numidian Prime, Captain Terrik,” Viira sardonically addressed the old smuggler. “Feel free to dock with our ship so that we may commence—”
“Oh, no,” Booster interrupted her pointedly. “I’m not falling for that old trick. I’ve been at this for longer than you’ve been alive. No, we’ll meet down on the surface of the planet. It’s either that or we leave.”
Toah tensed up but knew that Booster was bluffing. Viira flipped her hand in a theatrical manner. “Oh, very well. There’s an outpost in the northern hemisphere. We will transmit the coordinates to you now. Bring no more than five others with you. I will do the same. We’ll be waiting.”
Viira’s image dissolved away and Booster turned to face Toah and the gathered Renegades. “I already know you’re coming along,” he said pointedly to Toah. “Your call as to who comes with us.”
Toah did not need to give the question much thought. “Kyla, Wiskin, Typha, and Valrisa.”
He heard Bedo audibly sigh in relief while Valrisa said, “Cera.”
Caught off-guard, he turned to look at his daughter, their eyes locking. “Pardon?”
She tilted her head down, her dark bangs hanging loosely over her eyes. “My name is Cera.”
Bedo’s long nose twitched. “Don’t you need to go to a court to get that—”
“Zip it,” Typha hissed at him.
The Ortolan held his hands up defensively. “I was just asking! My people usually just pick a name and stick with it.”
Disregarding Bedo’s remarks, Toah looked at his daughter—Cera—for another moment before nodding. “All right,” he said, his throat feeling tight. He then turned back to Booster. “We have our crew.”
“Then let’s go,” Booster said. “Hopefully these pirates stay true to their word.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Kyla muttered.
* * *
It was well into the night on Coruscant, and Captain Lon Shevu was more than ready to clock out and end his shift. So it only made sense that, fifteen minutes before the end of his shift, a strange individual had to walk into the station and prolong it.
Said individual was a tall and old Chagrian male, dressed in dark, stylish robes and walking with the aide of a decorated cane. His wrinkly blue skin was marked with what looked like tribal tattoos, although Shevu had never known Chagrians—at least those living on Coruscant—to have any sort of tribal traditions. The non-human’s piercing blue eyes met Shevu’s own as he approached the front desk.
“I am here to pick up an inmate of yours,” the Chagrian said, his tone crisp and clear despite his somewhat frail appearance.
“Do you have a security clearance?” Shevu asked, eyebrows raised.
The Chagrian provided him one and Shevu looked it over. It was an older code, dating back to the Imperial Period, but it checked out. He thought about alerting Director Girdun, but after the stressful week they had all had, he thought it better not to bother him. Besides, something about the Chagrian’s presence compelled him to not delay his request.
“Very well,” Shevu said. “Who are you here to see?”
The Chagrian told him and Shevu led him straight to the holding cell that contained the Kiffar ex-Jedi named Zarin Kal. Lifting his head up, Zarin squinted from the sudden illumination into his darkened cell.
“Are you here to deliver my sentence?” the Kiffar asked.
“That depends entirely on whether you comply with my demands or not,” the Chagrian replied.
Shevu faintly recognized the fact that he could not move a single muscle in his body, nor could he comprehend all of the words that were being spoken in front of him even though he could hear them clearly.
“I am Lord Wyyrlok,” the Chagrian went on. “Emissary of Darth Krayt.”
Zarin shot up to his feet, his expression intense. “Krayt is dead.”
“Incorrect, although he slumbers as we speak.” A smirk twisted onto the Chagrian’s face. “You may have believed that your betrayal eradicated us, but it has done the opposite in fact. It has empowered us and given the Sith a chance to rise to supremacy again.”
“No.” Zarin shook his head. “You’re lying.”
“I have no reason to.” Wyyrlok inclined his head, fixing his cold gaze on the Kiffar. “If it is death you wish, then I will happily deliver it to you. But my master wanted to give you the opportunity to be part of this glorious ascension.”
Zarin breathed heavily. “What would you have me do?”
“I can only tell you that if you agree to rejoin us. Otherwise, I will have to kill you.”
Shevu couldn’t tell how long it took for the Kiffar to consider the Chagrian’s offer, but eventually the ex-Jedi dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “I…I accept. I pledge myself once more to the dark side.”
Wyyrlok chuckled dryly. “That is hardly necessary. From what I understand, you never left it.”
He gestured slowly with his hand and Zarin rose to his feet. The two then departed the cell, leaving Shevu standing there, frozen in place.
When he could finally move again, he heard Jori Lekauf speak from behind him.
“Captain? I thought your shift ended half an hour ago.”
Shevu shook his head to clear his mind before turning around to face his young lieutenant, closing the cell door behind him. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I got distracted.”
Lekauf tilted his head questioningly. “Did Director Girdun order for the prisoner’s release?”
“You’d have to ask him.” Shevu briskly walked past him. “It’s by time I clocked out. You know how he hates paying us for overtime.”
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