Chapter Text
3 ABY, Ukk System, Outer Rim
Han Solo knew the mission was kriffed the moment they dropped out of hyperspace and all three Jedi uttered their kiss-of-death catchphrase, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Cal and Leia had delivered the pronouncement in the Falcon’s cockpit while Luke chimed in over the comm. Han sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands as Chewie groaned in the copilot seat.
“Great. Should we move on to the next stop?” Han turned to the pair seated behind him.
“Not sure.” Cal Kestis, Jedi Knight and ginger menace to Han’s peace of mind, peered down at the sensor screen as his droid, BD-1, whistled atop the console. Han wasn’t a fan of droids—it was a miracle that he hadn’t shoved Threepio out of an airlock yet—but BD was kind of cute, like a sassy little bird. “Can’t tell what’s wrong yet.”
Leia’s lips pressed in a thin line and Han winced. He hated that expression, because it was usually followed by a lecture on duty or responsibility, two subjects that Han had shitty history with. Hey, he was doing the right thing now, shouldn’t that count for something?
“Do a quick flyover,” Leia said. “Enough for a sensor sweep. We’ll give the data to Alliance Intelligence when we get back and let them investigate further.”
“Aye, aye, your Worship.” Han turned the Falcon toward the planet and smirked, sensing Leia’s scowl focused on the back of his head like the dot of a targeting laser.
BD whistled an admonishment for everyone to play nice, and Luke chuckled over the comm.
“You get all that, kid?” Han asked.
“Copy that, Han. Wedge and I will fly escort while you scan. We were kind of hoping we’d get to land on this one, though. Stretch our legs.”
“Sorry, boys,” Han said. “The next stop on the list is only a few hours away.”
“Says the guy with access to a bunk and a ’fresher,” Wedge drawled.
“Hey, the next planet is supposed to have beaches,” Han said. “That’s nice, right?”
“Trust me, Solo,” Wedge said, “You’ll never win over a Tatooine flyboy with promises of sand.”
Han snickered as Chewie and Cal laughed. “Oh, yeah?” Han asked. “How’d you do it then?”
“A pair of power couplings and a bottle of Corellian brandy.”
Even Leia laughed at Luke’s embarrassed squawk. “My brother, the hopeless romantic,” she teased.
“Hey, sand is preferable to the stop after that,” Han said. “It’s some ice cube called Hoth. Luke’s a delicate desert flower who won’t last five minutes on that glacier.”
Chewie elbowed Han and barked for everyone to focus as the ship broke atmo. Normally a scout team took care of this kind of mission. For over two years the Alliance had been in search of a new home base. Oh, they had dozens of small bases scattered throughout the Outer and Mid Rim, but nothing like the grand, centralized setup they’d had at Yavin IV. Han swore he’d never hauled so much legit cargo on the Falcon as he had when they’d evacuated that place.
They’d scored this scouting task after a nasty encounter with bounty hunters when their last mission on Ord Mantell left Luke and Han in bacta tanks for two days. The six of them made an unstoppable team for the Alliance, but when they traveled together they were a bounty hunter’s dream score.
Wedge was worth the least amount—just the standard reward for a known rebel plus the one for deserters from the Imperial Navy. Han and Chewie had bounties on their heads before joining the rebellion and had only added to that total since. Leia’s bounties came from a combination of her position with the Alliance, being a high-profile Alderaanian citizen and former Imperial senator, and a Jedi apprentice. As a Jedi Knight, Cal had been collecting bounties since the day the Empire was formed, and by all rights he ought to have the highest total, but no. Luke Skywalker, the bright-eyed farmboy Han met in a Mos Eisley cantina, had a kriffing one million credit price on his head.
“Looks like one big swamp,” Cal said.
“And that’s different from jungle?” Luke asked.
“Probably?” Wedge was a spacer like Han, who’d spent most of his life on stations and ships instead of living dirtside.
“Swamps have more water,” Leia said.
“That’s good, right?” Luke said.
Han snorted—Luke had even more water hangups than a ship rat. “Not for building. Ground’s too unstable. If we landed here you two would do more sinking than stretching.”
BD-1 beeped a complaint and Cal nodded. “Agreed, buddy. It looks like there’s drier land in the northern hemisphere.”
“Let’s check it out, Chewie,” Han said. The Wookiee barked an agreement and added a comment about how humidity curled his hair.
“Mine, too.” Leia patted Chewie’s shoulder. “That’s why I keep it braided. I could plait yours, if you’d like.”
Han expected an offended growl, but instead his copilot tilted his head and pondered the princess’s offer. The moment was broken when the long-range sensors shrieked a warning.
“An imperial ship just jumped into the system.” Cal cursed. “It’s the Executor.”
The temperature seemed to plummet in the cockpit as the casual mood evaporated—that was Vader’s ship. The armored asshole had held a grudge against them since the Falcon covered Luke when he fired the shot that destroyed the Death Star.
“Artoo, we need new jump coordinates,” Luke said, and his astromech whistled in reply.
“Luke, Wedge, I’ve got point,” Han said. “We’re gonna make a run for it.”
“Head for the nebula,” Wedge said. “It’ll screw with their sensors.”
“Copy that.” Han grimaced as he kicked the engine into overdrive, shunted everything he could to increase their speed, and sent the Falcon screaming out of the atmosphere. The nebula would screw with their sensors, too, but things should be fine as long as everyone stayed within visual range.
“Two incoming TIE squadrons,” Cal announced. “One fighter and one interceptor.”
“I’ll take the eyeballs,” Wedge joked. “Luke’s got the squints.”
“Negative, kids,” Han said. “Stick close. Pour everything into your engines. This is gonna be close.”
Kriffing Jedi and their bad feelings. The three ships zoomed towards the nebula and Han hoped their luck would hold out.
The first of the TIE Interceptors nipped at their tails as the ships dove into the nebula.
“Cal, Leia, get to the gun turrets,” Han ordered.
Leia flinched beside Cal—not because she was scared, Cal was proud of his student’s unshakable calm—but because when Solo used her given name they all knew that the osik had hit the fan.
“Beedee, stay here,” Cal said. The droid whistled an anxious affirmative and Cal patted his little buddy’s head.
Cal jogged after Leia as they hurried toward the Falcon’s guns. She climbed up to the dorsal turret and he slid down the ladder to the belly gun. Vader’s all-too-familiar presence oozed malevolence as the Executor lumbered through the system behind them, and phantom pain lanced through Cal’s side at the memory of the Sith Lord’s lightsaber cleaving his flesh.
Cal strapped in and pulled his headset on. “Line them up, Captain.”
“You got it, Red.”
The Jedi breathed in, reached for the Force, and released his anxiety and fear on the exhale. At the edge of his thoughts Cal felt Luke and Leia through their training bonds. Further out, something nudged at his mind. Not Vader—whatever it was, it was filled with Light and strong, like a beacon in the Force.
“Cal?” Luke asked over the comm. “What is that?”
“It feels…warm?” Leia said.
“We don’t have time for space wizard shit.” Solo barked a Huttese curse as the ship rocked.
“We do if it saves our skins,” Cal replied. “Everyone turn to point-three-five. There should be a power signature on the sensors, head straight for it.”
“Since when are you in charge?” Solo asked.
“Age before beauty, Captain.” Cal grinned—Solo had called Cal “kid” a few times until he’d pointed out that he was older than Han.
“Well when you put it that way, Red. Chewie, punch it.”
The trio of ships looped and charged toward the new heading. Cal and Leia finished off the last of the Interceptors just before they reached the energy source, and everything around them suddenly stopped as they were enveloped by a sea of Light.
Silence. Serenity. Peace enveloped Cal, the sensation stronger than he had felt in years. Not since he’d been a youngling at the Temple learning to meditate in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
Vergeance, whispered through his thoughts. Nexus—like the Force nexus beneath the Temple, but this energy ached, filled with loss and sorrow. So much pain…
Memories flashed, each moment a glimpse like surfing channels on the Holonet.
“Execute Order 66.”
Commander Ferro turns to Master Tapal, blaster raised—
Chewbacca and Chieftain Tarful watch in shock as General Yoda leaps away from danger and cuts down the clone troopers who had been his trusted allies moments before—
Cal sobs in agony in the escape pod as his training bond with his Master is wrenched from his mind. The bonds with his crèchemates snap like broken strings on a hallikset. It feels like the Force is screaming—
A small Han Solo shakes and shrinks back from the pirate who murdered his parents. “It’s like this, kid. You work, you live. You piss me off, I sell you to the Hutts—”
Chewbacca and his family howl in mourning as Stormtroopers round them up at blaster-point and clamp slave collars around their necks—
A small Leia Organa, imprisoned in the Fortress Inquisitorius, strapped to the torture apparatus that had broken so many Jedi. The Third Sister looks on—
A small Luke Skywalker shakes with terror as the Third Sister cuts down his aunt and uncle before advancing toward his hiding place—
A teenage Wedge Antilles is conscripted by the Imperial Navy. He receives notice that his family was killed in Rebel bombing, but he knows it’s a lie. Propaganda. Soon after, Wedge defects with the aid of an undercover Rebel agent—
Trilla, her eyes locked with Cal’s, as the shadow of the Sith Lord looms behind her and raises a crimson blade. “Avenge us.”
On and on. So much suffering. Cal watches the Mantis explode, his found family murdered by the Empire during a failed mission for the Alliance. Leia watches the destruction of Alderaan. Luke stands in the hangar bay of the Death Star and watches as his mentor is cut down by a monster in black armor. Wedge listens over the comm as Red Squadron is picked apart until only he and Luke remain, each agonized death hits him like a blade in the gut—
The Force surges like a star gone nova.
“Avenge us.”
The ships shot out of the nebula and Cal gasped for breath as though surfacing from deep water. Shaking his head, he squinted down at the targeting display as alarms shrieked a chorus of new warnings. What should have been empty space was now filled with two clashing navies—a badly damaged Venator-class Star Destroyer was being pummeled by a heavy dreadnought as squadrons of fighters clashed between them. Cal knew that the rebellion relied on old, decommissioned ships, but none of the ships were broadcasting Alliance or Imperial IDs.
“Pull up!” Luke’s X-wing zoomed past Cal’s turret. “S-foils in attack position.”
“Who the kriff are we attacking?” Solo asked, and Chewbacca howled in agreement.
Cal centered himself and then jolted in his chair as he sensed something he hadn’t in years—Jedi. There was a Jedi Master aboard the Venator. He reached into the Force and marveled at the thousands of lights that dotted it. The Force was so light—he hadn’t felt so much light since…
“Attack the droid fighters,” Cal ordered. “Beedee, send Luke and Wedge IFF targeting data from the Falcon’s computer.”
He swallowed the urge to comment on the fact that the ship’s targeting computer was karking ancient enough that it contained Clone Wars era data, and instead thanked their good fortune that it did. Somehow they entered the nebula being chased by the Galactic Empire, and left it to find themselves in the middle of a battle between the Grand Army of the Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems.
Cal grinned. “I have an idea.”
Jedi High General Obi-Wan Kenobi frowned at the holo display and stroked his beard. They were losing—badly, due to a combination of damage remaining from their previous battle and the fact that Count Dooku had gotten the drop on them. But the Resolute was on its way, so the Negotiator just had to hold out long enough for help to arrive.
“Sir, three ships just emerged from the nebula. A light freighter and two one-man fighters of an unidentified make.”
Obi-Wan reached toward the newcomers to assess the threat in the Force, and he gasped as power punched through him. A vision overtook him in a tidal wave of disjointed voices and blurred images.
The Temple, silent as a mausoleum, the halls littered with the corpses of Jedi too young or too ancient to fight in the war. Younglings cut down by blaster fire and a lightsaber blade—
“You were my brother, Anakin!”
Volcanic heat, the stench of burning flesh, a pair of rage-filled, Sith-yellow eyes. “I hate you!”
“I will take the girl.”
“Then my friend is truly dead.”
Obi-Wan held his hand out to the tow-headed child cowering among the rocks. “It’s all right, Luke. You’re safe. I’m going to look after you now.”
“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”
“If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can ever imagine.”
“Ben!”
“Sir!”
Obi-Wan groaned as his skull throbbed with a splitting headache, and he blinked as Cody’s face swam into view. “I’m fine.”
“With all due respect, sir, you’re not fine. You collapsed.”
“Hmm.” Obi-Wan turned and confirmed that he was, indeed, sprawled on the deck of the Negotiator’s bridge. “It’s nothing. Just a small vision. You were saying?”
Cody helped him to his feet and Obi-Wan winced and dusted himself off, fairly certain that he heard the bridge crew muttering something about “karking Jetii osik.”
“Three unidentified ships flew out of the nebula,” Cody reminded.
“Civilians? Separatists?”
“Neither, sir. They’re attacking the Seppie ships, and it looks like they’re making a run at the Malevolence.”
“They’re what?”
Han cursed at Cal over the comm—that was nothing new, because Cal’s plans were usually too creative (or crazy) for Han’s tastes. Luke sighed and muted the channel.
“Artoo, get us a private channel with Cal.”
“Luke?”
“Explain your plan.” Luke jerked his ship to the side and blasted a Vulture droid that had gotten too close to Wedge.
“I used to break these ships on Bracca,” Cal said. “I know all their weak spots—things we never even figured out during the war. If we get under the dreadnaught’s shields there’s a critical sensor node with shit for armor on their belly. Hit it and it’ll cause a cascade failure that blinds the whole ship. I’ll have Beedee send the specs to Artoo.”
“Got it,” Luke said. Artoo chirped as the data came through and he shared it with Wedge’s astromech.
“Beedee’s trying to get a line open to the clone pilots, see if we can work together, but it’s not likely unless we can prove we’re friendly. I don’t remember any of the Jedi command codes and Master Cordova wasn’t part of the GAR, so Beedee never learned any.”
“Right. Keep us updated. Wedge?”
“Copy that. I’ve got your back.”
Luke grinned. “Never doubted that.”
The sensor cluster popped on the targeting computer and Luke changed course. “Easier than the Death Star run, that’s for sure.”
“Please don’t curse us,” Wedge replied. “I want to live long enough to find out why the hell we’re suddenly in the middle of the kriffing Clone Wars.”
“Because I take you to all the best places, handsome.” Luke grinned as Wedge’s laugh chuffed through the comm.
The two X-wings burned a path through the droid forces as they zipped toward the dreadnought. Luke unmuted Han when the Falcon sailed past them.
“I’m going to wring your Jedi necks,” Han ranted. “I barely want to fight our war. I didn’t sign up for this one.”
“You were probably too young,” Cal said. “Though I was twelve when I became a commander in the GAR.”
“Luke and I weren’t born yet,” Leia pointed out.
“I was,” Wedge said. “Depending on what year it is. And, you know, that this isn’t some giant hallucination.”
Chewie barked at them to cut the chatter and focus.
The sensor cluster exploded and Wedge whooped. “Know any other weak spots, Cal?”
“Sure do. Let’s knock out their comms next.”