ladyofleithian (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ladyofleithian) wrote2013-12-22 11:03 pm
ladyofleithian) wrote2013-12-22 11:03 pm
Entry tags:
Chapter Twenty Two: When Fear Itself Came Crashing Down
In which the battle of Yavin IV begins.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: This isn't really one of my favorite chapters, to be honest. I admit there are instances where, well, Tarkin doesn't feel right, the battle's a little rushed, etc. On the other hand, I really think I nailed Terminus' internal monologue, as well as Mara's, and Ben's. And Ventress'. Also liked Mara and Terminus' interaction.
To say that the Empire had suffered several losses would be putting it mildly, Tarkin thought. Even standing on the bridge of the Death Star, he was already unpleasantly reminded that Lord Vader had betrayed them, defected to the Rebellion if only for no other reason than, from what Tarkin had gathered, some sort of moment of conscience, and Lord Terminus had been captured. They had already managed to place the homing beacon secretly aboard the Millennium Falcon if only to track them to the Rebel Base, to find out where Terminus was being taken as well as to find the base and destroy the Rebellion once and for all – killing two birds with one stone, as it were.
Or three or four. Considering that Lord Vader had betrayed them and there were still apparently Force Sensitives out there, in a sense, Tarkin was eliminating them as well. Four birds with one stone then.
The Rebellion had been a thorn in the Empire’s side, Tarkin thought, for far too long. Undermining everything that the Emperor was trying so hard to preserve. That Tarkin himself was trying so hard to preserve. They were sabotaging just about everything, justifying their terrorism and their treason by the fact that somehow, they were right if only because they were right. He had done everything to try and serve the Empire, to serve the Emperor’s will, to keep the population in line. He had done everything to keep others in the galaxy from joining the Rebellion. He had done so much if only to serve the Emperor. And now he stood over the moon of Yavin IV, and he felt a sudden surge of power, almost akin to electricity, go up his spine. This…this was perfect. This was how it was always meant to be. Finally crushing the Rebellion itself. Stopping it from recruiting others to its cause, stopping it from destroying everything else that the Empire ever worked for.
He had always admired the Emperor. The Emperor had been stronger than the Old Republic and the Jedi had ever been. He was stronger in will, stronger in force, willing to do what the Old Republic and the Jedi Order alike had been too weak-willed to do. He had always been loyal to the Old Republic; at least, his family had. But the Old Republic was nothing more than a weak, bloated, corrupt government, their time long past. And the Jedi Order had been equally archaic, too obsessed with the matter of peace and their Code to actually do anything.
They, meanwhile, served the Empire to the last. Rooting out traitors, rooting out those who dared to threaten the Empire. Doing their duty for the government that they were so very devoted to to the last.
And so standing on the Death Star, his creation, in a sense, the symbol of fear to the Rebellion and the symbol of power to the Empire, Tarkin looked over Yavin IV. Yes, he thought, victory would indeed be sweet. It would take a long while before they were finally in range of the Rebel Base. But when the Rebel Base was destroyed, when the remaining Rebels were captured and executed for their treason, it would be sweet indeed.
***
The dejarik board was already set, so to speak. Even looking outside the window of her X-wing, Mara could already see the gas giant of Yavin, looming large and scarlet and almost ominous over the gleaming X-wings, which seemed almost akin to white, metallic birds against the inky black of space. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, thinking of the others back down on that planet, and how she had to protect them.
It was then that Red Leader’s voice echoed over Mara’s headphones. “All wings report in.”
Voices then proceeded to chime over Mara’s headphones as well. “Red Ten standing by.”
“Red Seven standing by.”
“Red Three standing by.” (That was Biggs.)
Others proceeded to report in as well, such as Red Six, Red Nine, Red Two (Wedge, the person that Vader was at odds with earlier) , and Red Eleven. It was then that Mara spoke up. “Red Five standing by.” Her father’s call sign, back in the Clone Wars. Even saying it gave her a strangely literal feeling of stepping into her father’s shoes. She had big shoes to fill. She could only hope that she would be able to fill them.
Red Leader’s voice echoed over her head set. “Lock S-foils in attack position.”
Mara and the others obeyed. In her head – was it in her head? Mara could only assume – she could hear Terminus’ voice. Not that deep sort of mechanical rumble that Mara had become familiar with, but a gentle, soft, vaguely sort of Coruscanti voice. Be safe, Mara. May the Force be with you.
Mara smiled, and she could swear that she felt tears prick at her eyes. Still, she couldn’t afford to start crying. Not now. She had to stay strong, if only for the others. “You too,” she murmured. “You too.”
“Red Five?” Red Leader’s voice now, concerned. “Are you all right?”
“I am,” Mara said, “And I’m ready.”
And it was then that they headed into battle.
***
In the war room, the Rebel Alliance gathered around the table, inspecting the display on the table that showed Yavin as well as the Death Star, looming above it almost like a creature out of a nightmare, orbiting Yavin IV, about to fire. Even being represented by nothing more than a red dot, the Death Star still seemed like something that had emerged from hell itself. Green dots continued to appear on the display screen, and everyone watched, completely still.
Ben swallowed, feeling almost as if rocks had wedged themselves in his throat; he had already seen the Death Star in the aftermath of Alderaan. If that was anything close to what his parents had seen when they were about to die, when they were about to be all but immolated by the Death Star and its laser –
Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. He tried to breathe almost like his father had taught him. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t. There was something in him almost caught by rage and fear and hatred – the Death Star, the thing that had killed his friends and family and so many people who hadn’t even done anything wrong…
Breathe. Breathe.
Ben forced air through his lungs, practically forced it, before turning back to the display. Over the intercom, he heard the voice, reciting, calmly, how much time the Death Star had until firing range. Fifteen minutes.
In the back of the room, he could swear that he saw Owen and Beru stiffen, and Beru place an arm around Owen’s shoulder. Vader did the same with Padme.
Ada turned towards him. “It’s going to be all right, Ben,” she said, softly. “Trust me on this.”
Ben could only hope that she was right.
***
Even in between adjusting her controls as she, as well as the other X-wings, passed through the Death Star’s magnetic field, Mara could not help but be all but amazed. She had seen how large the Death Star damn was, like something out of a nightmare, but this – even as they neared it, she realized that it was far larger than she could have ever truly anticipated. Getting closer, she could make out the details, such as an antenna on its side, and the trench that seemed built into it. It seemed to loom in front of her almost like some sort of creature intent on swallowing its prey whole.
Mara took a deep breath. Calm down. You can do this. You’re going to be all right.
Over her headset, Wedge’s voice echoed. He seemed to share her fear and her awe. “Look at the size of that thing!”
That, Mara thought, was quite the understatement.
“Cut the chatter, Red Two,” Red Leader said if only crisply. “Accelerate to attack speed. This is it.”
Yeah, Mara thought. This is it.
They got closer now, and Mara could see that what she had already seen just nearing the thing was just the tip of the iceberg. Half of the station she couldn’t say that she saw very well, but what she did see…it seemed to almost glitter, lighting the hard-to-see space station with an eerie sort of glow. Over her headset, she heard Red Leader and Gold Leader conversing, and Gold Leader’s, “We’re starting for the target shaft now.”
Mara could only wish Gold Leader good luck. Considering the Death Star, she had a feeling that everyone involved in this mission was going to need it.
“We’re in position,” Red Leader said, “I’m going to cut across the axis and try to draw their fire.”
Mara, meanwhile, took a deep breath. Just calm down. Think of it like when you were shooting womp rats in your T-16 with Luke and Biggs. Back when you were on Tatooine.
And at least thinking of it that way, it seemed almost easy.
“This is Red Five,” Mara said, “I’m going in.”
And she swooped in towards the Death Star. As she fired, it seemed almost as if the surface of the Death Star itself, gleaming in space, seemed to be rushing up to meet her. Nonetheless, she continued firing. For a moment, she remembered being back on Tatooine, racing with Luke against the sunrise, against the sunset, chasing sand dunes until the both of them were all but spent. Thinking of it that way was even easier. She continued firing at the Death Star, searching for weaknesses –
-- only to realize that none of this would work. The most that she had done was create a massive explosion. It was just in time that she managed to pull up, shaking.
“Mara!” Over Mara’s headset, Biggs sounded frantic. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” Mara said. “Still a little on edge from nearly being roasted, but I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
And all around her, the X-wings continued firing on the Death Star, their blasts barely managing to scratch the Death Star’s surface.
You’re going about this the wrong way.
Terminus’ voice again. Mara sighed.
“I’m kind of busy here,” she said. “We’re kind of busy.”
I know that. I just want to know how you think that firing at the Death Star’s surface is a good idea. Don’t you remember the meeting? Dodonna said that the exhaust port is the best way.
Mara took a deep breath. “I know that firing on the surface won’t do stang,” she said. “It’s just a distraction.”
For what?
“For getting to the exhaust port,” Mara said. “It won’t do stang now, all of this, like I said, but it can give everyone else a chance.”
***
All around Ventress, it seemed almost as if the Death Star itself were collapsing. There was panic all around, the walls buckling and caving in, rubble flying everywhere. She couldn’t say that she was surprised that something like this would happen; the Empire, after all, knew nothing of those who would dare to stand against them. In finding a symbol if only to strike fear into those who opposed them, they only accelerated their own destruction. She stood there now, looking over the wreckage, feeling Vader’s presence on the moon below.
Whatever Tarkin wanted to do, if only to stop the Rebellion, Ventress in all honesty did not want it to be that way. After all, both Terminus and Vader were on the moon below. Sith were not supposed to have attachments, that was all too true. And yet at the same time, Vader had looked after her when she had first been taken in. They had almost been akin to siblings, at least in a way. The closest one could be in the Sith to siblings. Tarkin was willing to do whatever it took if only to defend the Empire, to no doubt prove that he was right and the Rebellion was wrong, but whatever he did, he was not going to destroy Yavin IV. Not while Vader and Terminus were still on that planet.
“Lady Ventress.” One of the soldiers ran towards her; Ventress could practically feel his distress. “We count thirty Rebel ships. But they’re so small that they’re evading our turbo-lasers!”
So the Rebellion had finally gotten smarter. Ventress supposed that she could count this as something to admire about the Rebellion. They had managed to adapt. They had managed to get smarter. For all the fact that they were terrorists, traitors, and reprehensible idealists with an inflated idea of their own importance and a sort of devotion to the Old Republic – an institution that was hardly worth defending in the first place – they were resourceful when they wished to be.
But if they could be resourceful, Ventress thought, so could the Empire.
“We’re going to have to destroy them ship to ship,” she said, “Get the crew to their fighters.”
And even as she walked off if only to her own fighter, Ventress could only hope, deep down, that she could at least find a way to end all of this without causing Vader and Terminus’ deaths. Because for all she wished to defend the Empire – even if there were some individuals in it who weren’t worth defending, and she could feel it deep within her bones – she didn’t wish to cause Vader and Terminus’ deaths. Because even after all this time, they were still very dear to her. The Sith were not supposed to have attachments – they seemed to regard love as being almost as bad as mercy, as a sort of sickness, and a weakness. It had been the downfall of such Sith as Darth Sion as well as Darth Revan, to name a few – and though she was not yet Sith (she was still a Dark Jedi, after all), she knew that this lesson was all too true for her. A lesson that though she tried, she doubted that she could ever truly learn.
And she could only hope that she could get Vader and Terminus off the moon before it was destroyed. If it was destroyed with them on it…
She reached out towards them in the Force. She felt them, Vader with the Chosen One herself, Padme Naberrie, and Terminus –
Terminus. What have they done to you? Locking you up as if you were no more than an animal, and in the midst of a battle as well. When the lives of others on the base are at stake. Are they truly that irresponsible? You need to leave, now.
And Ventress could only hope that Terminus and Vader both left in time.
***
It was deep in the prison that Terminus felt it. The Death Star – though it was not being destroyed necessarily, it was rocking violently enough to be all but mistaken for being about to be destroyed. He could feel others on the Death Star all but crying out in terror as the wrath of the Rebellion itself seemed to descend on them, firing at them, rattling the structure that they must have thought would be indestructible…
And even after all this time, he felt a sudden pang of sadness inside him. Some of them more than deserved their fate, such as Grand Moff Tarkin, but most of them…they had done nothing wrong. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was hardly cause for annihilation. He closed his eyes, reaching out through the Force, trying to urge the others to get off the station. To influence them the best they could if only to leave. They didn’t deserve that fate. They didn’t deserve any of this.
And it felt almost as if he was back in the Clone Wars, all these needless deaths, Separatist and Jedi and Dark Jedi and defender of the Republic and clonetrooper alike. People such as Matthew Travis, a reporter who had been especially prominent during the Clone Wars if only for his outspoken (to say the least) criticism of the Jedi and the Republic, liked to say things such as the fact that the Republic and the Jedi cared nothing for those who died.
But they were wrong.
Because Terminus…Terminus remembered everyone. And by the Force itself, it hurt –
Groans escaped him in that moment. It was almost frightening because, if nothing else, he had been so used to keeping his self-control when he was still a Jedi. He had been so used to simply letting go, to releasing his grief to the Force, to keeping his calm even when it seemed like the galaxy itself had collapsed all around him, and yet in that moment…he couldn’t even describe the sort of sounds that now escaped him in that moment. As if he was trying to cry, as if he was trying to let his grief escape at least, his anger that it was coming to this, more mindless violence, on the side of the Empire and the Rebellion, his grief at what had had happened and what was happening and what was yet to happen (even if the future was always in motion. Even if the future was still very much non-linear, far from predestined, and it was truly what they made of it in the end), but somehow, his tear ducts would not obey him. He supposed that it was very well. If he started crying, he couldn’t imagine what was about to happen.
The guard turned to look at him now in concern. “Lord Terminus,” she said, if only softly, “Are you all right? You sounded like you were…” She bit her lip, seeming almost uncertain, if only for a moment, how to describe what was happening. “Like you were crying.”
“I am,” Terminus said, and even speaking, his voice sounded almost as if it were shaking. “In a way.” Even speaking was difficult. Even breathing was difficult, more difficult than usual. “I’m crying for everyone, and what is yet to come.”
***
“Mara,” Red Leader said, over Mara’s intercom, “Let me know when you’re going in.”
His X-wing now dived past Mara’s, through a heavy hail of flak. Mara barely managed to maneuver it out of the way in time. Even in her mind, she could feel something in her mind – something that, in truth, terrified her – her father’s grief, not towards anything in particular except for this very conflict that was going on. Did he fear that she would die? Did he fear for the others, whether they be Rebel or Imperial, and what would most likely happen to them? She reached out towards him if only gently; she couldn’t say that she was entirely good at this whole mental link thing – and in truth, it almost terrified her. The idea of Terminus being inside her head – but at the very least…
It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. A beat. We know what we’re doing.
That’s what I was afraid of.
Mara furrowed her brow. You aren’t making sense, Father. “Father” was probably the right word for Terminus. It would be a good way, at least, to distinguish him from Owen. It was strange, how she had called Owen “Dad” for so long, only for Terminus to enter the picture.
Does any of this ever make sense? There was a hint of bleak humor in her father’s mental voice.
We’re going to make it. I promise.
It’s not all that I’m worried about. Though I do fear for you. A beat. Only remember, for all Alderaan deserves pity, for all it deserves justice for what Tarkin has done to it, remember that those on the Death Star are worthy of pity as well. They have done nothing, after all. They are hapless, they are helpless, simply remember that.
And even feeling the chaos inside the Death Star, the fear and confusion from the other inhabitants who seemed honestly confused as to what was happening, Mara could not disagree. She reached towards them, through the Force. It’s all right. Just get out of here as quickly as you can. You know what to do. Go for the exit.
She could only pray that they managed to make it. After all, they hadn’t been the ones who pulled that trigger that had blown up Alderaan. They hadn’t been the ones who decided to destroy Yavin either. If Mara could at least prevent another senseless massacre, she would.
And Terminus…she could swear that Terminus was practically beaming in her head. His Force presence, while still tinged with sadness, seemed to lighten. You truly are your mother’s daughter.
And despite herself, despite everything that was happening, Mara grinned. Somehow, she thought, she could do this. She almost couldn’t believe it, but she could do this.
Over the intercom of her X-wing, Mara said, “I’m on my way now.”
“Watch yourself,” Red Leader said. “There’s plenty of fire coming from the right side of that deflection tower.”
“Gotcha. I’m on it.” If she could at least take out that tower, stop it from firing at them, then she had pretty much all of this covered.
***
She had done it. Terminus almost hadn’t thought that she had it in her. And yet she had done where other Jedi could not – she had shown those on the Death Star mercy. Other Jedi – they had been so swept up in the currents of the Clone Wars that they had forgotten what it meant to be a Jedi. Compassion. Peace. Mercy. Master Yoda had said time and time again that wars did not make one great (or “Wars not make one great”, more precisely), and the Clone Wars had proven that all too well. They had turned good men and women into monsters, from people such as Quinlan Vos and Depa Billaba and he supposed himself who had succumbed to despair and fallen to the Dark Side of the Force to those who hadn’t fallen necessarily to the Dark Side, but hovered on the brink of it, such as Mace Windu. He had said to Padme once, when she had questioned him about that (and similar things), that as far as they’d fallen, he doubted they could rise any higher.
He supposed the correct response was that he doubted they could fall any further. Or that it was very likely they could fall further. Because they had. He had fallen further.
And yet Mara…
For all she had wounded him – albeit to defend others – she was a genuinely good young woman. He supposed, should they avoid being immolated in Yavin IV’s destruction, he should thank Owen and Beru Lars for raising her well. And thank Padme and Sabe for protecting her. Not for taking her and Ben away from him, but for protecting her…yes, he supposed he should thank them for that.
It was then that he felt it. Ventress’ presence, all but begging him to leave. Urging him to leave. But he could not leave. He could not, not while others needed him. Not while Mara needed him. Not when the others on the Death Star needed, more than anything, to evacuate. He rubbed his helmet if only wearily.
“Why would you cry for us?” the guard said. “I mean, I never thought…”
“Because who will,” Terminus said, “If not me?”
Because the Rebellion deserved more than enough weeping for what it had endured. But those who needed it most were the citizens of the Empire. Even the Emperor himself – what a life he could have led if not for whatever lies had led him far from home. If there had been any lies, any threats, at all.
What had happened to them, in the end, every one of them, that had led them to this point? What had become of them?
And what would become of them, in the future?
***
As Mara’s X-wing practically careened through the Death Star, speeding past the wall of laser fire that was now coming her way, she continued to fire wherever she could. She couldn’t necessarily fire at the tower; after all, the tower seemed to have more firepower than she could. But at the very least, if she could have some surface attacks, enough to at least provide some degree of distraction, she could at least do something. She was doing well, at the very least. She was still alive. She was still fighting. As long as she was still fighting, at the very least, she wasn’t dead. Which was, to say the least, a plus.
It was over her headset that she heard a sort of crisp, male voice. “Squad leaders, we’ve picked up a new group of signals. Enemy fighters coming your way.”
Well, stang. “My scope’s negative,” Mara said. “I don’t see anything.”
“Keep up your visual scanning. With all this jamming, they’ll be all over you before your scope can pick them up.”
Mara sighed. Even looking over her visual scanner, it seemed to be fluctuating constantly. It was then that she heard Red Leader’s voice again over her headset. “Biggs! You’ve got one on your tail – watch it!”
“I can’t see it!” Biggs, this time, sounding almost frantic. “Where is he?”
“Just stay calm,” Mara said. “I’m coming to get you, Biggs, you got that?”
“Just like old times, isn’t it, Mara?” Biggs’ voice seemed strained, as if he was vainly trying to crack a joke considering the situation that he was in.
“Yeah. It is. Like I said, just stay calm, I’m coming to get you.”
It was heading lower into the Death Star trenches that she saw it: Biggs, diving towards the Death Star surface, being pursued by a particularly determined TIE-fighter. Gleaming black in contrast with their white X-wings, it seemed to dog Biggs’ tail. In time, it was going to smoke Biggs out. It was going to kill him.
Mara took a deep breath before firing on the TIE fighter. It went up in flames.
“I’ve got him!” Mara said.
“I knew you could do it!” Biggs said. “Thanks!”
Mara grinned. “Just like old times, Biggs,” she said. “Just like old times.”
***
It was surrounded by Imperial stormtroopers that Ventress turned to the nearest TIE pilots. All things considered, considering the enemies that she was now up against, she was going to need all the help that she could get. She was not much of a pilot, but at the very least, she was relatively competent. It had been Vader who had been the stronger pilot of the group. He had a love for the sheer thrill of it, the splendor, firing at enemies, all but coasting through the explosions in the sky, and so much more. And Ventress supposed that in a sense, she could see its appeal, though she was not as much of a pilot as he was.
And if she was going to defend the Death Star, to defend the Empire, she would do whatever it took. She was hardly as devoted and ruthless as Tarkin was – she knew that for all she was willing to do whatever it took if only to defend her master, to defend the Empire and the Sith in general, she would not go as far as Tarkin did in that moment – but she would defend the Empire or die trying.
“Several fighters have broken off from the main group,” she said to the TIE pilots. “Follow me.”
And even as they proceeded towards the hangar, Ventress knew that whatever happened, the Rebellion would not destroy the Death Star. She did not fear death in the name of serving a greater cause. What of them was the better question. Were they afraid to die? Did they fear dying, or did they not care about dying as long as it somehow served the greater cause?
Whatever it took, she would defend the Empire, defend this Death Star. Even if it cost her her life.
***
It was standing with the others around the readout screen, watching the space battle go on and on, hearing the faint chatter of others telling Mara to pull up, to pull out, that Ben couldn’t help but feel anxious despite himself. The people of Rogue Squadron, the people of Gold Squadron, the people of all these Squadrons…they were noble people. They truly were. And yet there was something about the whole thing where he couldn’t help but be anxious. If Mara didn’t get out of there, if she were hurt or killed, if they somehow failed to destroy the Death Star before it destroyed them –
Being Alderaanian, Ben was not one for the kill-or-be-killed sort of mentality. It was the sort of mentality that he simply couldn’t get behind. No matter the circumstances, there was no need to take a human life. And yet this…this was one of those areas where he feared that they damn had no other choice but this. Because, damn, he thought, this wasn’t the matter of kill-or-be-killed. This was for the sake of the galaxy. Saving the galaxy from suffering the fate of Alderaan. His planet, his home. And, Ben thought, even as he turned if only towards Ada and the others, their planet, their home. They couldn’t let other planets suffer the same fate. Even hearing things like, “Mara, watch your back, the fighter’s coming in!” and “Red Six, can you see Red Five?” and Mara’s frantic, “I can’t seem to shake him!” was enough to make Ben bite his lip and turn away. He didn’t want to see what was going to happen next. He was praying on the inside that at the very least, Mara would make it out of there, and yet there was something in him telling him that there was no chance. For all intents and purposes, they were fighting against the incarnation of evil itself with all its forces, and they couldn’t damn win.
It was then that he saw it. The TIE fighter that was pursuing Mara, its dot going out. Mara’s dot seemed to shake if only slightly. And Wedge’s dot, being the one who had done it.
Ben sighed in relief, rubbing his head wearily. To think that they had come close enough to Mara getting hurt or killed –
“Thanks, Wedge.” Even Mara’s voice sounded relieved. “I owe you one.”
“No problem, Red Five.”
Ben smiled if only in spite of himself. And yet there was something in him that couldn’t help but be anxious. Mara, he thought, Get to that Death Star, and soon.
“She’s going to be all right.” Kitster, this time. “She’s stronger than you know.”
Ben could only hope so. He turned back towards the readout screen, watching the battle again, hoping, at the very least, that they would survive this. They’d been fighting multiple losing battles for too long. It was time for them to at least get some semblance of the upper hand.
***
Mara sighed in relief even as she looked behind towards the wing of her X-wing. Honestly, other than being a bit cooked, they were okay. And for that, she was grateful.
“You all right back there, Artoo?” she asked.
The astromech gave an affirmative whistle.
“That’s good.” Mara couldn’t pat his dome, but she could at least smile. “Good soldier. You’ve done great thus far.”
The astromech whistled, obviously pleased with the compliment.
It was over the headset that Mara heard the voice of Gold Leader. “This is Gold Leader. We’re starting our attack run.”
“I copy, Gold Leader.” Red Leader, this time. “Move into position!”
And Mara and the others moved their X-wings into position. Already, Mara was anxious. As far as she knew, they were making dents in the Death Star, but they were just dents. It had been good at the very least for being a distraction, but otherwise…
Even hearing it all over her headset, the audio of various members of Gold Squadron dying, and Gold Five’s obvious distress even as he reported it – “Lost Tyree, lost Dutch…” – Mara took a deep breath even as she continued to listen, even as she all but felt the people in her mind dying, those horrible sort of echoes, those screams of terror that didn’t seem to let up. She tried to calm herself, tried if only vainly to tell herself to not panic, and yet how could she not? All these people dying, and meanwhile, the Death Star was still closing in on Yavin –
Just calm down. Just keep on target.
And she continued along with the others, firing at the Death Star, at its towers, trying to evade the laser fire and other things as much as she possibly could. Because they were not going to let the Death Star take out Yavin. Even managing to do some damage to some of the towers firing at them, to the Death Star’s surface, to some of the TIE fighters practically converging on them like things out of a nightmare, Mara felt at least some degree of assurance. They had this. They weren’t going to simply panic.
And if they were going to die, they were going to give the Empire something to remember by.
Give them hell, Mara, she told herself. Remember what Han and Owen wanted. Give them hell.
***
It was in the Death Star control room that Grand Moff Tarkin stood, and even amidst the chaos of the Death Star, it shaking, he couldn’t help but feel that in terms of the Empire and its many victories, they had never truly risen any higher. This was their moment. They were about to destroy Yavin IV, to destroy the Rebels for good, to make sure that they would never cause the Empire any degree of trouble ever again. They were about to achieve perhaps their finest victory. Even hearing the minutes left until they were about to reach the Rebel Base – “Rebel base, four minutes and closing” – Tarkin felt something in him that was almost akin to excitement. And more than that, joy. This…this was the moment that he was truly waiting for. This was the moment where they would destroy the Rebels once and for all.
And yet the Chief Officer beside him seemed nervous, unwilling to damn share in the glory of their imminent victory. “We’ve analyzed their attack, sir, and there is a danger.”
“There’s hardly a danger.” If nothing else, Tarkin thought, how could the Rebels even so much as be a danger? Their attacks were ineffectual; they seemed to just rattle the battle station, not truly make any sort of impact. They couldn’t hope to stop the Empire’s ultimate weapon. They couldn’t hope to stop the Empire. They simply couldn’t.
“Nevertheless, sir,” the Chief Officer said, “Should I order a stand by?”
How could he so much as even say that?
“Evacuate?” Tarkin said. “In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances.”
Over the intercom, the crisp voice said, “Rebel base, three minutes and closing”, and Tarkin smiled. This was their hour. This would be the hour that they would crush the Rebellion once and for all. And from there, no power in the galaxy would be able to stop them.
***
“Red Group.” Red Leader’s voice echoed over Mara’s headset. “This is Red Leader. Rendez-vous at mark six point one.”
“I copy, Red Leader,” Mara said.
Over Mara’s headset, Wedge’s voice. “This is Red Two. Flying towards you.”
And then Biggs. “Red Three, standing by.”
“Good to see that you’re all right, Red Three,” Mara said over her headset.
“Same here, Red Five.”
It was then that Dodonna’s calm, assured voice cut into the matter of their brief chatter. “Red Leader, this is Base One. Keep half your group out of range for the next run.”
“Copy, Base One,” Red Leader said. “Red Five, take Two and Three with you. Hold up there and wait for my signal to start your run.”
“Copy that, Red Leader,” Mara said. And hope that this goes well. The best that they had on their side was luck and skill. And a determination to give the Empire something to remember them by, at the very least.
It was then that they started their run. And even gliding over the Death Star’s surface, heading towards the Death Star’s exhaust port, heading through the trenches, Mara was almost reminded, in spite of herself, of the garbage chute walls, and how close they seemed if only for that terrifying moment. In contrast, though, they seemed wider apart, almost, she thought, as if they were built for an attack such as this. Although, Mara thought, they probably weren’t expecting someone to be flying through the trenches towards the exhaust port to try and destroy it.
Just stay calm, she thought. Do what Red Leader says, and you’ll be able to live through this. At the very least, she hoped.
It was then that she heard Terminus’ voice inside her mind. You truly, honestly, think that following instructions alone is going to help you in this time? They won’t.
“Not now,” Mara muttered.
You’re going to have to trust your instincts. I think now would be a good time to put your Force training to work.
Mara could only briefly remember what Padme had said, about the matter of reaching out with your feelings. But this…this was a space battle. At least in lightsaber combat, you could sort of go with something like that. But this…
She could still remember Han’s words, about being good against machines vs. being good against the living. She supposed that in a way, Han was right. The Death Star was very much a machine, but they had plenty of already living obstacles in their way before they got to the exhaust port and managed to fire the necessary shots into it.
Over Mara’s headset, she heard Red Leader’s voice. “This is it!” His voice was heavy now, and it was more than obvious that he seemed to be straining, sweating even. Mara took a deep breath in that moment, scanning her targeting computer if only to make sure that there weren’t any TIE fighters around. Not that that was easy. If nothing else, it seemed to be glitching, almost as if…
“Keep your eyes open for those fighters!” Red Leader said.
“No sign of them,” Mara said. “Too much interference on my computer. I can’t say what’s wrong, unless the Empire decided to jam our transmissions.” She scanned the Death Star’s surface from the cockpit. It was then that she saw the familiar flash of ebony. Three flashes, actually. And it was then that Mara saw something that made her shake her head. “Oh, you must be joking…”
Because one of the TIE pilots – she could swear that she felt the Force flowing from them. A sort of scorching presence that felt, almost, like a whole explosion of hatred and rage was just flowing from the TIE pilot in question.
“What is it, Red Five?” Red Leader said.
“TIE pilots. And I think one of them is a Force user.” Mara took a deep breath. “You guys are going to have to be careful with this.”
“I see them, Red Five. We’d best get to the exhaust port immediately.”
They headed towards the exhaust port in that moment. Mara watched her targeting computer – which seemed to at least be coming back to normal, at the very least – the exhaust port seemed to be getting closer and closer, which was definitely good. She could at least hope, in that moment, that they could try and get to the exhaust port in time. And not be roasted by TIE fighters. That would definitely be a plus, she thought. Even as she heard the dying screams of the other X-wing pilots – Red Ten, Red Twelve, and others – over her headset, heard their dying screams through the Force, she swore that she felt her eyes growing hot with tears. She doubted that she could see the computer very well in that moment.
“Are you all right, Red Five?” Red Leader, this time.
“Affirmative, Red Leader,” Mara said. She couldn’t afford to, in that moment, let her emotions get the better of her. She couldn’t afford to start crying. Not when they still had the mission. It’s all right, Mara. Stay calm. Stay on target.
Stay on target.
Yes, she thought, that was definitely a good way to get her through this.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Notes: This isn't really one of my favorite chapters, to be honest. I admit there are instances where, well, Tarkin doesn't feel right, the battle's a little rushed, etc. On the other hand, I really think I nailed Terminus' internal monologue, as well as Mara's, and Ben's. And Ventress'. Also liked Mara and Terminus' interaction.
To say that the Empire had suffered several losses would be putting it mildly, Tarkin thought. Even standing on the bridge of the Death Star, he was already unpleasantly reminded that Lord Vader had betrayed them, defected to the Rebellion if only for no other reason than, from what Tarkin had gathered, some sort of moment of conscience, and Lord Terminus had been captured. They had already managed to place the homing beacon secretly aboard the Millennium Falcon if only to track them to the Rebel Base, to find out where Terminus was being taken as well as to find the base and destroy the Rebellion once and for all – killing two birds with one stone, as it were.
Or three or four. Considering that Lord Vader had betrayed them and there were still apparently Force Sensitives out there, in a sense, Tarkin was eliminating them as well. Four birds with one stone then.
The Rebellion had been a thorn in the Empire’s side, Tarkin thought, for far too long. Undermining everything that the Emperor was trying so hard to preserve. That Tarkin himself was trying so hard to preserve. They were sabotaging just about everything, justifying their terrorism and their treason by the fact that somehow, they were right if only because they were right. He had done everything to try and serve the Empire, to serve the Emperor’s will, to keep the population in line. He had done everything to keep others in the galaxy from joining the Rebellion. He had done so much if only to serve the Emperor. And now he stood over the moon of Yavin IV, and he felt a sudden surge of power, almost akin to electricity, go up his spine. This…this was perfect. This was how it was always meant to be. Finally crushing the Rebellion itself. Stopping it from recruiting others to its cause, stopping it from destroying everything else that the Empire ever worked for.
He had always admired the Emperor. The Emperor had been stronger than the Old Republic and the Jedi had ever been. He was stronger in will, stronger in force, willing to do what the Old Republic and the Jedi Order alike had been too weak-willed to do. He had always been loyal to the Old Republic; at least, his family had. But the Old Republic was nothing more than a weak, bloated, corrupt government, their time long past. And the Jedi Order had been equally archaic, too obsessed with the matter of peace and their Code to actually do anything.
They, meanwhile, served the Empire to the last. Rooting out traitors, rooting out those who dared to threaten the Empire. Doing their duty for the government that they were so very devoted to to the last.
And so standing on the Death Star, his creation, in a sense, the symbol of fear to the Rebellion and the symbol of power to the Empire, Tarkin looked over Yavin IV. Yes, he thought, victory would indeed be sweet. It would take a long while before they were finally in range of the Rebel Base. But when the Rebel Base was destroyed, when the remaining Rebels were captured and executed for their treason, it would be sweet indeed.
***
The dejarik board was already set, so to speak. Even looking outside the window of her X-wing, Mara could already see the gas giant of Yavin, looming large and scarlet and almost ominous over the gleaming X-wings, which seemed almost akin to white, metallic birds against the inky black of space. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, thinking of the others back down on that planet, and how she had to protect them.
It was then that Red Leader’s voice echoed over Mara’s headphones. “All wings report in.”
Voices then proceeded to chime over Mara’s headphones as well. “Red Ten standing by.”
“Red Seven standing by.”
“Red Three standing by.” (That was Biggs.)
Others proceeded to report in as well, such as Red Six, Red Nine, Red Two (Wedge, the person that Vader was at odds with earlier) , and Red Eleven. It was then that Mara spoke up. “Red Five standing by.” Her father’s call sign, back in the Clone Wars. Even saying it gave her a strangely literal feeling of stepping into her father’s shoes. She had big shoes to fill. She could only hope that she would be able to fill them.
Red Leader’s voice echoed over her head set. “Lock S-foils in attack position.”
Mara and the others obeyed. In her head – was it in her head? Mara could only assume – she could hear Terminus’ voice. Not that deep sort of mechanical rumble that Mara had become familiar with, but a gentle, soft, vaguely sort of Coruscanti voice. Be safe, Mara. May the Force be with you.
Mara smiled, and she could swear that she felt tears prick at her eyes. Still, she couldn’t afford to start crying. Not now. She had to stay strong, if only for the others. “You too,” she murmured. “You too.”
“Red Five?” Red Leader’s voice now, concerned. “Are you all right?”
“I am,” Mara said, “And I’m ready.”
And it was then that they headed into battle.
***
In the war room, the Rebel Alliance gathered around the table, inspecting the display on the table that showed Yavin as well as the Death Star, looming above it almost like a creature out of a nightmare, orbiting Yavin IV, about to fire. Even being represented by nothing more than a red dot, the Death Star still seemed like something that had emerged from hell itself. Green dots continued to appear on the display screen, and everyone watched, completely still.
Ben swallowed, feeling almost as if rocks had wedged themselves in his throat; he had already seen the Death Star in the aftermath of Alderaan. If that was anything close to what his parents had seen when they were about to die, when they were about to be all but immolated by the Death Star and its laser –
Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. He tried to breathe almost like his father had taught him. And yet at the same time, he couldn’t. There was something in him almost caught by rage and fear and hatred – the Death Star, the thing that had killed his friends and family and so many people who hadn’t even done anything wrong…
Breathe. Breathe.
Ben forced air through his lungs, practically forced it, before turning back to the display. Over the intercom, he heard the voice, reciting, calmly, how much time the Death Star had until firing range. Fifteen minutes.
In the back of the room, he could swear that he saw Owen and Beru stiffen, and Beru place an arm around Owen’s shoulder. Vader did the same with Padme.
Ada turned towards him. “It’s going to be all right, Ben,” she said, softly. “Trust me on this.”
Ben could only hope that she was right.
***
Even in between adjusting her controls as she, as well as the other X-wings, passed through the Death Star’s magnetic field, Mara could not help but be all but amazed. She had seen how large the Death Star damn was, like something out of a nightmare, but this – even as they neared it, she realized that it was far larger than she could have ever truly anticipated. Getting closer, she could make out the details, such as an antenna on its side, and the trench that seemed built into it. It seemed to loom in front of her almost like some sort of creature intent on swallowing its prey whole.
Mara took a deep breath. Calm down. You can do this. You’re going to be all right.
Over her headset, Wedge’s voice echoed. He seemed to share her fear and her awe. “Look at the size of that thing!”
That, Mara thought, was quite the understatement.
“Cut the chatter, Red Two,” Red Leader said if only crisply. “Accelerate to attack speed. This is it.”
Yeah, Mara thought. This is it.
They got closer now, and Mara could see that what she had already seen just nearing the thing was just the tip of the iceberg. Half of the station she couldn’t say that she saw very well, but what she did see…it seemed to almost glitter, lighting the hard-to-see space station with an eerie sort of glow. Over her headset, she heard Red Leader and Gold Leader conversing, and Gold Leader’s, “We’re starting for the target shaft now.”
Mara could only wish Gold Leader good luck. Considering the Death Star, she had a feeling that everyone involved in this mission was going to need it.
“We’re in position,” Red Leader said, “I’m going to cut across the axis and try to draw their fire.”
Mara, meanwhile, took a deep breath. Just calm down. Think of it like when you were shooting womp rats in your T-16 with Luke and Biggs. Back when you were on Tatooine.
And at least thinking of it that way, it seemed almost easy.
“This is Red Five,” Mara said, “I’m going in.”
And she swooped in towards the Death Star. As she fired, it seemed almost as if the surface of the Death Star itself, gleaming in space, seemed to be rushing up to meet her. Nonetheless, she continued firing. For a moment, she remembered being back on Tatooine, racing with Luke against the sunrise, against the sunset, chasing sand dunes until the both of them were all but spent. Thinking of it that way was even easier. She continued firing at the Death Star, searching for weaknesses –
-- only to realize that none of this would work. The most that she had done was create a massive explosion. It was just in time that she managed to pull up, shaking.
“Mara!” Over Mara’s headset, Biggs sounded frantic. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” Mara said. “Still a little on edge from nearly being roasted, but I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
And all around her, the X-wings continued firing on the Death Star, their blasts barely managing to scratch the Death Star’s surface.
You’re going about this the wrong way.
Terminus’ voice again. Mara sighed.
“I’m kind of busy here,” she said. “We’re kind of busy.”
I know that. I just want to know how you think that firing at the Death Star’s surface is a good idea. Don’t you remember the meeting? Dodonna said that the exhaust port is the best way.
Mara took a deep breath. “I know that firing on the surface won’t do stang,” she said. “It’s just a distraction.”
For what?
“For getting to the exhaust port,” Mara said. “It won’t do stang now, all of this, like I said, but it can give everyone else a chance.”
***
All around Ventress, it seemed almost as if the Death Star itself were collapsing. There was panic all around, the walls buckling and caving in, rubble flying everywhere. She couldn’t say that she was surprised that something like this would happen; the Empire, after all, knew nothing of those who would dare to stand against them. In finding a symbol if only to strike fear into those who opposed them, they only accelerated their own destruction. She stood there now, looking over the wreckage, feeling Vader’s presence on the moon below.
Whatever Tarkin wanted to do, if only to stop the Rebellion, Ventress in all honesty did not want it to be that way. After all, both Terminus and Vader were on the moon below. Sith were not supposed to have attachments, that was all too true. And yet at the same time, Vader had looked after her when she had first been taken in. They had almost been akin to siblings, at least in a way. The closest one could be in the Sith to siblings. Tarkin was willing to do whatever it took if only to defend the Empire, to no doubt prove that he was right and the Rebellion was wrong, but whatever he did, he was not going to destroy Yavin IV. Not while Vader and Terminus were still on that planet.
“Lady Ventress.” One of the soldiers ran towards her; Ventress could practically feel his distress. “We count thirty Rebel ships. But they’re so small that they’re evading our turbo-lasers!”
So the Rebellion had finally gotten smarter. Ventress supposed that she could count this as something to admire about the Rebellion. They had managed to adapt. They had managed to get smarter. For all the fact that they were terrorists, traitors, and reprehensible idealists with an inflated idea of their own importance and a sort of devotion to the Old Republic – an institution that was hardly worth defending in the first place – they were resourceful when they wished to be.
But if they could be resourceful, Ventress thought, so could the Empire.
“We’re going to have to destroy them ship to ship,” she said, “Get the crew to their fighters.”
And even as she walked off if only to her own fighter, Ventress could only hope, deep down, that she could at least find a way to end all of this without causing Vader and Terminus’ deaths. Because for all she wished to defend the Empire – even if there were some individuals in it who weren’t worth defending, and she could feel it deep within her bones – she didn’t wish to cause Vader and Terminus’ deaths. Because even after all this time, they were still very dear to her. The Sith were not supposed to have attachments – they seemed to regard love as being almost as bad as mercy, as a sort of sickness, and a weakness. It had been the downfall of such Sith as Darth Sion as well as Darth Revan, to name a few – and though she was not yet Sith (she was still a Dark Jedi, after all), she knew that this lesson was all too true for her. A lesson that though she tried, she doubted that she could ever truly learn.
And she could only hope that she could get Vader and Terminus off the moon before it was destroyed. If it was destroyed with them on it…
She reached out towards them in the Force. She felt them, Vader with the Chosen One herself, Padme Naberrie, and Terminus –
Terminus. What have they done to you? Locking you up as if you were no more than an animal, and in the midst of a battle as well. When the lives of others on the base are at stake. Are they truly that irresponsible? You need to leave, now.
And Ventress could only hope that Terminus and Vader both left in time.
***
It was deep in the prison that Terminus felt it. The Death Star – though it was not being destroyed necessarily, it was rocking violently enough to be all but mistaken for being about to be destroyed. He could feel others on the Death Star all but crying out in terror as the wrath of the Rebellion itself seemed to descend on them, firing at them, rattling the structure that they must have thought would be indestructible…
And even after all this time, he felt a sudden pang of sadness inside him. Some of them more than deserved their fate, such as Grand Moff Tarkin, but most of them…they had done nothing wrong. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. That was hardly cause for annihilation. He closed his eyes, reaching out through the Force, trying to urge the others to get off the station. To influence them the best they could if only to leave. They didn’t deserve that fate. They didn’t deserve any of this.
And it felt almost as if he was back in the Clone Wars, all these needless deaths, Separatist and Jedi and Dark Jedi and defender of the Republic and clonetrooper alike. People such as Matthew Travis, a reporter who had been especially prominent during the Clone Wars if only for his outspoken (to say the least) criticism of the Jedi and the Republic, liked to say things such as the fact that the Republic and the Jedi cared nothing for those who died.
But they were wrong.
Because Terminus…Terminus remembered everyone. And by the Force itself, it hurt –
Groans escaped him in that moment. It was almost frightening because, if nothing else, he had been so used to keeping his self-control when he was still a Jedi. He had been so used to simply letting go, to releasing his grief to the Force, to keeping his calm even when it seemed like the galaxy itself had collapsed all around him, and yet in that moment…he couldn’t even describe the sort of sounds that now escaped him in that moment. As if he was trying to cry, as if he was trying to let his grief escape at least, his anger that it was coming to this, more mindless violence, on the side of the Empire and the Rebellion, his grief at what had had happened and what was happening and what was yet to happen (even if the future was always in motion. Even if the future was still very much non-linear, far from predestined, and it was truly what they made of it in the end), but somehow, his tear ducts would not obey him. He supposed that it was very well. If he started crying, he couldn’t imagine what was about to happen.
The guard turned to look at him now in concern. “Lord Terminus,” she said, if only softly, “Are you all right? You sounded like you were…” She bit her lip, seeming almost uncertain, if only for a moment, how to describe what was happening. “Like you were crying.”
“I am,” Terminus said, and even speaking, his voice sounded almost as if it were shaking. “In a way.” Even speaking was difficult. Even breathing was difficult, more difficult than usual. “I’m crying for everyone, and what is yet to come.”
***
“Mara,” Red Leader said, over Mara’s intercom, “Let me know when you’re going in.”
His X-wing now dived past Mara’s, through a heavy hail of flak. Mara barely managed to maneuver it out of the way in time. Even in her mind, she could feel something in her mind – something that, in truth, terrified her – her father’s grief, not towards anything in particular except for this very conflict that was going on. Did he fear that she would die? Did he fear for the others, whether they be Rebel or Imperial, and what would most likely happen to them? She reached out towards him if only gently; she couldn’t say that she was entirely good at this whole mental link thing – and in truth, it almost terrified her. The idea of Terminus being inside her head – but at the very least…
It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay. A beat. We know what we’re doing.
That’s what I was afraid of.
Mara furrowed her brow. You aren’t making sense, Father. “Father” was probably the right word for Terminus. It would be a good way, at least, to distinguish him from Owen. It was strange, how she had called Owen “Dad” for so long, only for Terminus to enter the picture.
Does any of this ever make sense? There was a hint of bleak humor in her father’s mental voice.
We’re going to make it. I promise.
It’s not all that I’m worried about. Though I do fear for you. A beat. Only remember, for all Alderaan deserves pity, for all it deserves justice for what Tarkin has done to it, remember that those on the Death Star are worthy of pity as well. They have done nothing, after all. They are hapless, they are helpless, simply remember that.
And even feeling the chaos inside the Death Star, the fear and confusion from the other inhabitants who seemed honestly confused as to what was happening, Mara could not disagree. She reached towards them, through the Force. It’s all right. Just get out of here as quickly as you can. You know what to do. Go for the exit.
She could only pray that they managed to make it. After all, they hadn’t been the ones who pulled that trigger that had blown up Alderaan. They hadn’t been the ones who decided to destroy Yavin either. If Mara could at least prevent another senseless massacre, she would.
And Terminus…she could swear that Terminus was practically beaming in her head. His Force presence, while still tinged with sadness, seemed to lighten. You truly are your mother’s daughter.
And despite herself, despite everything that was happening, Mara grinned. Somehow, she thought, she could do this. She almost couldn’t believe it, but she could do this.
Over the intercom of her X-wing, Mara said, “I’m on my way now.”
“Watch yourself,” Red Leader said. “There’s plenty of fire coming from the right side of that deflection tower.”
“Gotcha. I’m on it.” If she could at least take out that tower, stop it from firing at them, then she had pretty much all of this covered.
***
She had done it. Terminus almost hadn’t thought that she had it in her. And yet she had done where other Jedi could not – she had shown those on the Death Star mercy. Other Jedi – they had been so swept up in the currents of the Clone Wars that they had forgotten what it meant to be a Jedi. Compassion. Peace. Mercy. Master Yoda had said time and time again that wars did not make one great (or “Wars not make one great”, more precisely), and the Clone Wars had proven that all too well. They had turned good men and women into monsters, from people such as Quinlan Vos and Depa Billaba and he supposed himself who had succumbed to despair and fallen to the Dark Side of the Force to those who hadn’t fallen necessarily to the Dark Side, but hovered on the brink of it, such as Mace Windu. He had said to Padme once, when she had questioned him about that (and similar things), that as far as they’d fallen, he doubted they could rise any higher.
He supposed the correct response was that he doubted they could fall any further. Or that it was very likely they could fall further. Because they had. He had fallen further.
And yet Mara…
For all she had wounded him – albeit to defend others – she was a genuinely good young woman. He supposed, should they avoid being immolated in Yavin IV’s destruction, he should thank Owen and Beru Lars for raising her well. And thank Padme and Sabe for protecting her. Not for taking her and Ben away from him, but for protecting her…yes, he supposed he should thank them for that.
It was then that he felt it. Ventress’ presence, all but begging him to leave. Urging him to leave. But he could not leave. He could not, not while others needed him. Not while Mara needed him. Not when the others on the Death Star needed, more than anything, to evacuate. He rubbed his helmet if only wearily.
“Why would you cry for us?” the guard said. “I mean, I never thought…”
“Because who will,” Terminus said, “If not me?”
Because the Rebellion deserved more than enough weeping for what it had endured. But those who needed it most were the citizens of the Empire. Even the Emperor himself – what a life he could have led if not for whatever lies had led him far from home. If there had been any lies, any threats, at all.
What had happened to them, in the end, every one of them, that had led them to this point? What had become of them?
And what would become of them, in the future?
***
As Mara’s X-wing practically careened through the Death Star, speeding past the wall of laser fire that was now coming her way, she continued to fire wherever she could. She couldn’t necessarily fire at the tower; after all, the tower seemed to have more firepower than she could. But at the very least, if she could have some surface attacks, enough to at least provide some degree of distraction, she could at least do something. She was doing well, at the very least. She was still alive. She was still fighting. As long as she was still fighting, at the very least, she wasn’t dead. Which was, to say the least, a plus.
It was over her headset that she heard a sort of crisp, male voice. “Squad leaders, we’ve picked up a new group of signals. Enemy fighters coming your way.”
Well, stang. “My scope’s negative,” Mara said. “I don’t see anything.”
“Keep up your visual scanning. With all this jamming, they’ll be all over you before your scope can pick them up.”
Mara sighed. Even looking over her visual scanner, it seemed to be fluctuating constantly. It was then that she heard Red Leader’s voice again over her headset. “Biggs! You’ve got one on your tail – watch it!”
“I can’t see it!” Biggs, this time, sounding almost frantic. “Where is he?”
“Just stay calm,” Mara said. “I’m coming to get you, Biggs, you got that?”
“Just like old times, isn’t it, Mara?” Biggs’ voice seemed strained, as if he was vainly trying to crack a joke considering the situation that he was in.
“Yeah. It is. Like I said, just stay calm, I’m coming to get you.”
It was heading lower into the Death Star trenches that she saw it: Biggs, diving towards the Death Star surface, being pursued by a particularly determined TIE-fighter. Gleaming black in contrast with their white X-wings, it seemed to dog Biggs’ tail. In time, it was going to smoke Biggs out. It was going to kill him.
Mara took a deep breath before firing on the TIE fighter. It went up in flames.
“I’ve got him!” Mara said.
“I knew you could do it!” Biggs said. “Thanks!”
Mara grinned. “Just like old times, Biggs,” she said. “Just like old times.”
***
It was surrounded by Imperial stormtroopers that Ventress turned to the nearest TIE pilots. All things considered, considering the enemies that she was now up against, she was going to need all the help that she could get. She was not much of a pilot, but at the very least, she was relatively competent. It had been Vader who had been the stronger pilot of the group. He had a love for the sheer thrill of it, the splendor, firing at enemies, all but coasting through the explosions in the sky, and so much more. And Ventress supposed that in a sense, she could see its appeal, though she was not as much of a pilot as he was.
And if she was going to defend the Death Star, to defend the Empire, she would do whatever it took. She was hardly as devoted and ruthless as Tarkin was – she knew that for all she was willing to do whatever it took if only to defend her master, to defend the Empire and the Sith in general, she would not go as far as Tarkin did in that moment – but she would defend the Empire or die trying.
“Several fighters have broken off from the main group,” she said to the TIE pilots. “Follow me.”
And even as they proceeded towards the hangar, Ventress knew that whatever happened, the Rebellion would not destroy the Death Star. She did not fear death in the name of serving a greater cause. What of them was the better question. Were they afraid to die? Did they fear dying, or did they not care about dying as long as it somehow served the greater cause?
Whatever it took, she would defend the Empire, defend this Death Star. Even if it cost her her life.
***
It was standing with the others around the readout screen, watching the space battle go on and on, hearing the faint chatter of others telling Mara to pull up, to pull out, that Ben couldn’t help but feel anxious despite himself. The people of Rogue Squadron, the people of Gold Squadron, the people of all these Squadrons…they were noble people. They truly were. And yet there was something about the whole thing where he couldn’t help but be anxious. If Mara didn’t get out of there, if she were hurt or killed, if they somehow failed to destroy the Death Star before it destroyed them –
Being Alderaanian, Ben was not one for the kill-or-be-killed sort of mentality. It was the sort of mentality that he simply couldn’t get behind. No matter the circumstances, there was no need to take a human life. And yet this…this was one of those areas where he feared that they damn had no other choice but this. Because, damn, he thought, this wasn’t the matter of kill-or-be-killed. This was for the sake of the galaxy. Saving the galaxy from suffering the fate of Alderaan. His planet, his home. And, Ben thought, even as he turned if only towards Ada and the others, their planet, their home. They couldn’t let other planets suffer the same fate. Even hearing things like, “Mara, watch your back, the fighter’s coming in!” and “Red Six, can you see Red Five?” and Mara’s frantic, “I can’t seem to shake him!” was enough to make Ben bite his lip and turn away. He didn’t want to see what was going to happen next. He was praying on the inside that at the very least, Mara would make it out of there, and yet there was something in him telling him that there was no chance. For all intents and purposes, they were fighting against the incarnation of evil itself with all its forces, and they couldn’t damn win.
It was then that he saw it. The TIE fighter that was pursuing Mara, its dot going out. Mara’s dot seemed to shake if only slightly. And Wedge’s dot, being the one who had done it.
Ben sighed in relief, rubbing his head wearily. To think that they had come close enough to Mara getting hurt or killed –
“Thanks, Wedge.” Even Mara’s voice sounded relieved. “I owe you one.”
“No problem, Red Five.”
Ben smiled if only in spite of himself. And yet there was something in him that couldn’t help but be anxious. Mara, he thought, Get to that Death Star, and soon.
“She’s going to be all right.” Kitster, this time. “She’s stronger than you know.”
Ben could only hope so. He turned back towards the readout screen, watching the battle again, hoping, at the very least, that they would survive this. They’d been fighting multiple losing battles for too long. It was time for them to at least get some semblance of the upper hand.
***
Mara sighed in relief even as she looked behind towards the wing of her X-wing. Honestly, other than being a bit cooked, they were okay. And for that, she was grateful.
“You all right back there, Artoo?” she asked.
The astromech gave an affirmative whistle.
“That’s good.” Mara couldn’t pat his dome, but she could at least smile. “Good soldier. You’ve done great thus far.”
The astromech whistled, obviously pleased with the compliment.
It was over the headset that Mara heard the voice of Gold Leader. “This is Gold Leader. We’re starting our attack run.”
“I copy, Gold Leader.” Red Leader, this time. “Move into position!”
And Mara and the others moved their X-wings into position. Already, Mara was anxious. As far as she knew, they were making dents in the Death Star, but they were just dents. It had been good at the very least for being a distraction, but otherwise…
Even hearing it all over her headset, the audio of various members of Gold Squadron dying, and Gold Five’s obvious distress even as he reported it – “Lost Tyree, lost Dutch…” – Mara took a deep breath even as she continued to listen, even as she all but felt the people in her mind dying, those horrible sort of echoes, those screams of terror that didn’t seem to let up. She tried to calm herself, tried if only vainly to tell herself to not panic, and yet how could she not? All these people dying, and meanwhile, the Death Star was still closing in on Yavin –
Just calm down. Just keep on target.
And she continued along with the others, firing at the Death Star, at its towers, trying to evade the laser fire and other things as much as she possibly could. Because they were not going to let the Death Star take out Yavin. Even managing to do some damage to some of the towers firing at them, to the Death Star’s surface, to some of the TIE fighters practically converging on them like things out of a nightmare, Mara felt at least some degree of assurance. They had this. They weren’t going to simply panic.
And if they were going to die, they were going to give the Empire something to remember by.
Give them hell, Mara, she told herself. Remember what Han and Owen wanted. Give them hell.
***
It was in the Death Star control room that Grand Moff Tarkin stood, and even amidst the chaos of the Death Star, it shaking, he couldn’t help but feel that in terms of the Empire and its many victories, they had never truly risen any higher. This was their moment. They were about to destroy Yavin IV, to destroy the Rebels for good, to make sure that they would never cause the Empire any degree of trouble ever again. They were about to achieve perhaps their finest victory. Even hearing the minutes left until they were about to reach the Rebel Base – “Rebel base, four minutes and closing” – Tarkin felt something in him that was almost akin to excitement. And more than that, joy. This…this was the moment that he was truly waiting for. This was the moment where they would destroy the Rebels once and for all.
And yet the Chief Officer beside him seemed nervous, unwilling to damn share in the glory of their imminent victory. “We’ve analyzed their attack, sir, and there is a danger.”
“There’s hardly a danger.” If nothing else, Tarkin thought, how could the Rebels even so much as be a danger? Their attacks were ineffectual; they seemed to just rattle the battle station, not truly make any sort of impact. They couldn’t hope to stop the Empire’s ultimate weapon. They couldn’t hope to stop the Empire. They simply couldn’t.
“Nevertheless, sir,” the Chief Officer said, “Should I order a stand by?”
How could he so much as even say that?
“Evacuate?” Tarkin said. “In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances.”
Over the intercom, the crisp voice said, “Rebel base, three minutes and closing”, and Tarkin smiled. This was their hour. This would be the hour that they would crush the Rebellion once and for all. And from there, no power in the galaxy would be able to stop them.
***
“Red Group.” Red Leader’s voice echoed over Mara’s headset. “This is Red Leader. Rendez-vous at mark six point one.”
“I copy, Red Leader,” Mara said.
Over Mara’s headset, Wedge’s voice. “This is Red Two. Flying towards you.”
And then Biggs. “Red Three, standing by.”
“Good to see that you’re all right, Red Three,” Mara said over her headset.
“Same here, Red Five.”
It was then that Dodonna’s calm, assured voice cut into the matter of their brief chatter. “Red Leader, this is Base One. Keep half your group out of range for the next run.”
“Copy, Base One,” Red Leader said. “Red Five, take Two and Three with you. Hold up there and wait for my signal to start your run.”
“Copy that, Red Leader,” Mara said. And hope that this goes well. The best that they had on their side was luck and skill. And a determination to give the Empire something to remember them by, at the very least.
It was then that they started their run. And even gliding over the Death Star’s surface, heading towards the Death Star’s exhaust port, heading through the trenches, Mara was almost reminded, in spite of herself, of the garbage chute walls, and how close they seemed if only for that terrifying moment. In contrast, though, they seemed wider apart, almost, she thought, as if they were built for an attack such as this. Although, Mara thought, they probably weren’t expecting someone to be flying through the trenches towards the exhaust port to try and destroy it.
Just stay calm, she thought. Do what Red Leader says, and you’ll be able to live through this. At the very least, she hoped.
It was then that she heard Terminus’ voice inside her mind. You truly, honestly, think that following instructions alone is going to help you in this time? They won’t.
“Not now,” Mara muttered.
You’re going to have to trust your instincts. I think now would be a good time to put your Force training to work.
Mara could only briefly remember what Padme had said, about the matter of reaching out with your feelings. But this…this was a space battle. At least in lightsaber combat, you could sort of go with something like that. But this…
She could still remember Han’s words, about being good against machines vs. being good against the living. She supposed that in a way, Han was right. The Death Star was very much a machine, but they had plenty of already living obstacles in their way before they got to the exhaust port and managed to fire the necessary shots into it.
Over Mara’s headset, she heard Red Leader’s voice. “This is it!” His voice was heavy now, and it was more than obvious that he seemed to be straining, sweating even. Mara took a deep breath in that moment, scanning her targeting computer if only to make sure that there weren’t any TIE fighters around. Not that that was easy. If nothing else, it seemed to be glitching, almost as if…
“Keep your eyes open for those fighters!” Red Leader said.
“No sign of them,” Mara said. “Too much interference on my computer. I can’t say what’s wrong, unless the Empire decided to jam our transmissions.” She scanned the Death Star’s surface from the cockpit. It was then that she saw the familiar flash of ebony. Three flashes, actually. And it was then that Mara saw something that made her shake her head. “Oh, you must be joking…”
Because one of the TIE pilots – she could swear that she felt the Force flowing from them. A sort of scorching presence that felt, almost, like a whole explosion of hatred and rage was just flowing from the TIE pilot in question.
“What is it, Red Five?” Red Leader said.
“TIE pilots. And I think one of them is a Force user.” Mara took a deep breath. “You guys are going to have to be careful with this.”
“I see them, Red Five. We’d best get to the exhaust port immediately.”
They headed towards the exhaust port in that moment. Mara watched her targeting computer – which seemed to at least be coming back to normal, at the very least – the exhaust port seemed to be getting closer and closer, which was definitely good. She could at least hope, in that moment, that they could try and get to the exhaust port in time. And not be roasted by TIE fighters. That would definitely be a plus, she thought. Even as she heard the dying screams of the other X-wing pilots – Red Ten, Red Twelve, and others – over her headset, heard their dying screams through the Force, she swore that she felt her eyes growing hot with tears. She doubted that she could see the computer very well in that moment.
“Are you all right, Red Five?” Red Leader, this time.
“Affirmative, Red Leader,” Mara said. She couldn’t afford to, in that moment, let her emotions get the better of her. She couldn’t afford to start crying. Not when they still had the mission. It’s all right, Mara. Stay calm. Stay on target.
Stay on target.
Yes, she thought, that was definitely a good way to get her through this.
I liked the ...
Re: I liked the ...
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And I'm definitely glad Tarkin was spot-on! I know he was one of those villains who was really hard to write, so I'm glad I nailed him!
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(Anonymous) 2014-08-27 01:28 pm (UTC)(link)