CHAPTER THREE
Coruscant
Night had fallen on Imperial Center, and yet Ysanne Isard was far from willing to fall asleep.
She stood in what was now her office at the Imperial Palace, looking out at vast cityscape that covered the planet. Five years ago, she had never once thought that someday she would rule over Imperial Center, yet here she was, effectively Empress in all but name.
It had not been easy, of course. Not only had it been a struggle to get rid of Sate Pestage, but to eliminate those in the Imperial Court that had stood in her way. Now the Ruling Council was under her thumb and she had been granted stewardship of the Galactic Empire, stopping short of calling herself Empress lest she stir more trouble with the Council than she needed to. In time, they would accept her fully as their new ruler, but until then, the current arrangement was… satisfactory enough.
Still, the work wasn’t over. The Rebel Alliance—now calling themselves the New Republic—was still a pressing nuisance, and there were still warlords out there that refused to bend their knee to her. Kaine and his Pentastar Alignment was not too much of a concern at the moment, but the likes of Zsinj, Delvardus, and the Teradoc twins… they would need to be dealt with in time. And there were still others who, while out of the picture, still needed loose ends that needed to be tied. While the self-aggrandizing fool Trioculus had been taken care of, there was still the matter of the mysterious Prophets that had controlled him behind the scenes. Fortunately, she already had some people tasked with hunting them down and eliminating them, including a Grand Admiral with a major chip on his shoulders.
Speaking of Grand Admirals, she had yet to hear from the one who waited in the Unknown Regions, performing work that had been given him by the Emperor before the catastrophe that had unfolded at Endor. While Isard did not trust this Grand Admiral Thrawn as far as she could throw him, she did not yet know enough about him to have any idea on how to deal with him. Once she did, she would make quick work of him and any threat he posed to her claim to the throne. But until then, she would keep him informed on the events of the known galaxy and he would use his own operatives to help Isard carry out her will against her enemies.
The last time they had spoken, Isard had informed Thrawn of Pestage’s removal and her ascendance. The alien Grand Admiral had simply responded by asking her to await a transmission from him so they could speak in more detail about recent events.
Apparently, that time had finally come when a chime sounded from her desk. Turning around, Isard pressed a finger down on the control panel to answer it. “Yes?”
“Incoming transmission, Director. Priority channel one.”
Isard quickly masked the grimace threatening to crawl onto her face. “Put it on.”
As soon as she had shuttered the windows and dimmed the room’s lights, the main holoprojector turned on and the life-sized figure of a blue-skinned humanoid in the whites of a Grand Admiral’s uniform materialized before her. Isard kept her expression even as she regarded the hologram.
“Grand Admiral Thrawn.”
“Director Isard,” Thrawn answered back, his voice as soft and smooth as a slither serpent. “Or shall I call you Empress?”
Isard controlled a twitch at her lips. “The Ruling Council would still frown upon it, I’m afraid. Director will do for now.”
“Very well then, Director. Nonetheless, I congratulate you on the work you have done to keep the Empire in line as you move to crush the Rebellion.”
Isard could not tell if the Grand Admiral’s words were genuine, but she let the comment slide all the same. “With all due respect, Grand Admiral, I would prefer if we cut straight to the point of this conversation. Surely you did not keep me waiting for this meeting only so I could give you information that you already had.”
The faintest of smiles crossed Thrawn’s lips. “Observant as ever, Director, not unlike your father. Indeed, I have a request to make of you.”
Isard arched an eyebrow over her left red eye. “A request, you say? And what do you offer me in exchange for this request?”
“What you have already asked of me,” Thrawn replied evenly. “To remain in the Unknown Regions until further notice.”
Isard held the alien’s gaze for a moment before tilting her head in a small nod. “Very well. What is your request?”
Thrawn clasped his hands behind his back as he straightened his shoulders. “Are you familiar with Baron Soontir Fel, Director?”
She felt her blue eye twitch at the mention of the name. Taking in a sharp intake of breath, she managed to reply evenly, “Yes, of course I am. He was one of the best pilots the Empire has to offer.”
The hints of venom in her voice did not go unnoticed by Thrawn, as his ghost of a smile only became more apparent. “Is that the past tense, I hear? I was not aware Baron Fel had fallen in combat.”
This time, Isard did not bother to hide the distaste in her voice. “He hasn’t, but he will wish he had. No, he has defected to the Rebellion and now flies for Rogue Squadron.”
“Ah, Rogue Squadron. Yes, I have heard of them. Unfortunate that Baron Fel has made the choice of siding with them.”
“Indeed,” Isard growled. “Fortunately, he will be made short work of as soon as my forces locate and obliterate Rogue Squadron.”
“Ah, but is there need for such haste?” Thrawn asked. “Regardless of his choices, Baron Fel is, as you say, one of the best pilots the Empire has to offer. It would be unwise to let such talents go to waste.”
“He has already wasted them by siding with the enemy.”
“Do you know it was by his choice alone? Perhaps the Rebels have coerced him into siding with them, threatening his family if he does not.”
“I have considered that,” Isard muttered. “But ultimately, it makes no difference. He swore an oath to the Empire and he has betrayed it by defecting to the Rebels, whether he did so willingly or not.”
“Understandable,” Thrawn said. “Even so, I feel that we both have something to benefit from what I am about to propose. You want Baron Fel out of the picture, and I want him for my own services.”
Isard studied the Grand Admiral’s holographic image carefully. “What are you suggesting?”
“I am suggesting that we work together to capture Baron Fel and have him sent to my base of operations here in the Unknown Regions. Doing so would fulfill my request as well as rid you of the traitor, leaving us both satisfied with the results.”
Isard hated to admit it, but she saw some sense to the Grand Admiral’s logic. While she would have preferred to have Baron Fel executed, perhaps Thrawn had something in mind that would ensure Fel’s continued loyalty to the Empire. And it would deprive the Rebels of an ace pilot with knowledge of Imperial tactics. It would be, as the layman would put it, a win-win.
“Very well,” she finally said. “Baron Fel shall be yours. I’ll have my operatives coordinate with yours to secure his capture.”
Thrawn smiled, and this time Isard felt that it might as well have been genuine. “Excellent, Director. I look forward to working with you on this operation.”
Isard could not bring herself to say the same to him, so instead she simply nodded as she ended the call. Perhaps the alien would have his uses… and once he had exhausted them, she would make sure to take him out of the picture as quickly as possible.
Lodestar
Helmet tucked under one arm, Baron Soontir Fel stepped into the hangar bay of the Lodestar, surveying the variety of docked starfighters. He tried hard to keep from grimacing as he walked; although the orange flight fatigues of an X-wing pilot were tailor-made for his body, they still did not quite feel “right” to him. And he was pretty sure that they didn’t look right to the pilots who now flew as his comrades after having been his enemies for many years.
He would have been lying to himself if he had said he was not feeling a bit impatient about the circumstances surrounding his service to the New Republic. He had agreed to defect from the Empire on the condition that they helped him find his wife Syal after she had been forced to go into hiding when he had been captured at Brentaal, a scenario that had been set up by Ysanne Isard as part of her political scheming. It had been several months since then, and little progress had been made from what he could tell. While he had no intentions of ever returning to the Empire due to the scheming and political infighting (not that Isard would ever welcome him back), he was getting to the point of considering taking matters into his own hands.
After this mission, at least, he would try to have a serious talk with Wedge and his superiors, perhaps even give them an ultimatum. Until then, he would serve the New Republic with as much fervor and passion as he had the Empire, before it had ended up in the state that it was now.
Walking through the hangar bay, Fel caught the wary glances of other pilots, namely those from units outside of Rogue Squadron. He was sure that Wedge had explained the situation to General Syndulla and she to them, but nothing was ever going to make those glares go away. Not after the actions he had taken against the Rebellion during the war. As it stood now, the other Rogues were the only real friends he had in the Starfighter Corps… and even that was stretching it.
He paused at one of the X-wing starfighters and saw his Quarren teammate Nrin Vakil standing under the ship’s nose, working at an exposed panel with a hydrospanner. The Quarren had become forlorn ever since the disaster that had unfolded at Ciutric, which had seen to the death of their fellow Rogue Ibtisam. As Fel understood it, Nrin had been close to Ibtisam, despite her being a Mon Calamari and the ages-long rivalry between their two races. Fel felt a pang of sympathy for the Quarren, worried as he was for his own wife’s safety, but he could not bring himself to console Nrin knowing the distaste the other had for him. If Fel had been in command of the unit, he would have put the Quarren on a leave of absence to get over his grief… but the New Republic was stretched thin for pilots as it was, and they needed all the help they could get.
Turning away from Nrin, Fel scanned the hangar bay for the rest of his comrades. Xarcce Huwla was standing at the fighter of Plourr Illo, comparing kill marks with her fellow pilot. Across from them were Avan Beruss and Feylis Ardele, whispering sweet nothings to each other as they prepared themselves for the mission ahead. Fel dreaded that one of them would soon experience the same heartbreak as Nrin had at Ciutric. It was one of the reasons he had always discouraged intimacy between pilots in his unit. It posed the risk of causing a pilot to put the life of one of their teammates over the lives of the others, and potentially put the mission in jeopardy.
Still, as much as he wanted to say something to them, Fel bit his tongue. This was Wedge’s unit, not his, and if letting their pilots get into bed with each other was how the New Republic did things… well, it had certainly gotten them this far, hadn’t it?
“Excuse me.”
Fel stiffened at the sound of the woman’s voice coming behind him. He had braced himself for this ever since he had defected and he turned around, preparing himself for the barrage of harsh words that were about to come his way. His encounter with Telsij Cayr was still fresh in his mind, and while she had made peace with him over his actions at Brentaal, that didn’t mean every pilot he encountered was going to be as respectable.
He recognized the woman in the X-wing fatigues from the briefing room. Her blonde hair was shaved short on either side, leaving a long golden mohawk in the center of her scalp. Her gray eyes carried a hardness that Fel had seen in only the most experienced of pilots, which contrasted with her youthful appearance; she couldn’t have been any older than in her early twenties, possibly even younger than Wedge. There was something familiar about the woman that Fel couldn’t quite place. The way she presented herself almost came across as more… Imperial than it did Rebel.
Meeting Fel’s gaze evenly, the woman said, “Baron Fel, I presume?”
“Yes,” Fel said carefully. “And you would be?”
“Commander Yrica Quell, of Alphabet Squadron.” She extended a gloved hand.
“Ah,” Fel uttered as he shook it. He remembered hearing the name at the briefing, but his thoughts had been focused on Syal that he had let it slip past. “Pleasure to meet you, Commander.”
“The pleasure is mine, actually,” Quell replied with an almost sheepish smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you during my time at the Academy.”
Fel’s eyes widened at this. “You mean, the Imperial Academy?”
Quell nodded. “I served in the 204th.”
“The Shadow Wing?” Fel had to keep himself from blurting out loud, although he was sure some of the others had overheard him as he no longer heard the sound of Nrin’s hydrospanner. “They were… probably still are… one of the Empire’s best fighter wings. Even after I whipped up the 181st into shape.”
Quell nodded again. “My history with them is a bit of a long story, as is the story of why I defected. I just wanted to make your acquaintance and let you know that there won’t be any ill feelings between you and I. You’re not the only ex-Imperial on this mission.”
“Um, right. Thank you.” Fel found himself at a loss for words, unsure of what else to say. Quell seemed to pick up on this as she simply smiled and gave a curt nod before walking back over to join the rest of her squadron.
As Fel let out the breath he had been holding, he heard the sound of booted footsteps approach him from behind. “Reuniting with old acquaintances, I take it?”
Fel turned around, already expecting to see Nrin Vakil standing there. “I assure you,” Fel said evenly, “that I have never met her before in my life.”
The Quarren’s expression was anything but convinced. “I’m sure.”
Before Fel had a chance to respond, Nrin was already turning away and walking back to his fighter. Fel glanced around to see if any of the others had been watching, but they were still engrossed in their own conversations.
With a sigh, Fel tightened his hold around his helmet and made swift strides toward his own fighter.
Akiva
Temmin had never been to the hideout of Surat Nuat, and it certainly had never been on his bucket list of places to visit. But Tooms and the rest of his gang clearly had other ideas, and so here he was.
He had spent the entire trip blindfolded, likely to make sure he couldn’t rat out the location to any authorities (not that they would have done anything about it). When they had finally pulled the sack off his head, it had taken a moment for his eyes to readjust to the dim lighting of the room, until finally he could make out the sour-looking Sullustan sitting in front of him, leering over a strangely shaped desk.
“Temmin Wexley,” Surat Nuat said. “We meet at last.”
Temmin managed a weak smile. “Hey,” was all he could say, fear threatening to choke him up.
The Sullustan regarded him with his one good eye, his left one being blinded white. “You’ve got guts, kid, I’ll give you that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You live by yourself with a faulty battle droid for protection, yet you risk your neck to harbor someone hiding from the Empire. That takes guts for someone like you.”
Temmin frowned. “I’m sorry, what’s this about hiding from the Empire?”
Surat rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, kid. That woman you were hiding… do you have any idea who she is?”
Temmin hesitated, but at this point he figured it was fruitless to lie. “She told me her name was Syal….”
“That’s not the name most of the galaxy knows her by. She’s Wynnsa Starflare, one of the biggest holoactresses there is!”
“Oh.” Temmin blinked in genuine bemusement. “I had no idea. Honestly. I don’t watch many holo-films.”
Surat smirked. “You’re sure? Teenage boy like you, I’d expect you to be familiar with at least some of her work….”
“I swear I had no idea. I thought she was just a pregnant woman that needed help. I didn’t know anything more than that, I swear!”
“Whatever you say,” Surat grunted. “Point is, the Empire has a big bounty on whoever can bring in Wynssa Starflare alive, and I intend to cash in on it.”
“We get a percentage though, right?” asked Tooms, standing next to Temmin with a blaster pointed to him. “I mean, we’re the ones who found her….”
“Actually, it was that new girl who caught her,” rumbled Herf, a vocoder around his neck translating his Ithorese speech. “What was her name again?”
Surat waved a dismissive hand. “We can discuss the details later. Let me contact the Satrap’s office so we can actually hand in the bounty.”
The Sullustan crime lord pressed a panel on his desk, and it was at that moment Temmin realized why it looked off. The surface of the desk was in fact a carbonite slab, with the visage of another Sullustan frozen within it. Temmin had heard rumors that Surat kept his brother frozen in carbonite, but he had always figured that to be an urban legend. Apparently, there had been some truth to it.
After a moment, a burst of static came from the desk’s built-in comlink, followed by an automated voice: “The office of the Satrapy is not available right now. Please leave a message and we will get back to you at the earliest convenience.”
Surat scowled. “Tell the Empire I have captured Wynssa Starflare. I look forward to your response.”
He finished the message and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms as he stared at the comm with a smug expression. No doubt he was expecting a prompt response once whoever was on the other end got the message.
Minutes passed. The silence grew longer and longer, and Surat’s expression drooped into a frown. Finally, he let out a huff and made a sharp gesture towards Tooms.
“Take him to the back. I’ll deal with him later.”
“Wait,” Temmin said as Makarial Gravin moved to put the sack back over his head. “Can’t you just let me go? It’s not me the Empire wants!”
“And have you start blabbing?” Surat snorted. “I don’t think so. The last thing I need is having unwanted company show up in my establishment.”
Temmin’s further protests were cut off as the Koorivar pulled the sack over his head, obstructing his vision once more. He was then roughly pulled out of his chair and led away to some other place he could not see. As he was pulled along, Temmin could not help but wonder if he would ever see the sunlight again.
* * *
Syal sat in the cell that she had been forced into. She drew her arms and legs closer to herself as she tried to keep warm in the freezing conditions of the backroom, rubbing a hand over her stomach as she fretted over the life growing inside it. Standing nearby, the armored woman called Sabine seemed to pick up on her distress as she inclined a helmeted head in her direction.
“Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “Help is on the way.”
Syal looked up at her. “It is?”
“I’ve already sent the New Republic intelligence about a meeting between Imperial warlords here in Myrra. The Alcazar will be one of the places they will stop at to gather further information; that will be when we make our move.”
“What about Surat? And the boy? He said his name was Snap…”
“Let me worry about that. Trust me, I’ve got this all under control.”
“Okay.” Syal did not feel fully reassured, and Sabine appeared to pick up on this. Turning to the other woman, Sabine slowly walked over to her before dropping down into a crouch beside her. She then raised her hands to her helmet and pulled it off her head, revealing a tan face with short hair dyed violet. She looked to be about a decade younger than Syal, perhaps even as young as Wedge would be by now….
“Hey,” Sabine said softly. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I’ve been fighting for the Rebellion since before it even was an official alliance.” She offered a faint smile. “I think I know what I’m doing.”
Syal met the other woman’s eyes and allowed herself to smile back in return. Sabine then glanced down at Syal’s pregnant stomach.
“How far along are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Pretty far,” Syal murmured.
“Do you have a name yet?”
Syal smiled. “I promised my husband I wouldn’t decide on one without at least talking with him first.”
“Well, hopefully we can get you back to your husband before it decides it wants to come out.” Sabine then paused as a thought appeared to cross her mind. “That does give me an idea, though….”
Syal raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean?”
“Okay, I know what I’m about to say is going to sound crazy, which is why I’m running it by you first. You ready?”
Syal could only nod as she stared at Sabine in confusion.
Then Sabine told her the plan. And for the first time in a while, Syal found herself grinning ear to ear.
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