The Old Republic Series

by Sean Williams

  Ula peered closely at the image. His knowledge of military hardware was patchy, but the rapidly rising dots did have a lethal air. For a start, they moved quickly, accelerating many times faster than most crewed ships would risk in atmosphere. There were eight of them, long and sleek. They spiraled like fireworks as they rose, presenting a much more difficult target to the ships above.

  The Auriga Fire lurched underneath him, responding to telemetry from the Corellia. As one, all fifteen ships changed course in response to the rising threat.

  “There’s your answer,” said Larin. “Someone is definitely taking this seriously.”

  “Fine,” said Jet, “but I’m not slaving my ship to anyone while it’s under fire.”

  “Wait,” said Shigar, but it was too late. Jet had already broken the short-lived connection between his ship and those of the Republic. With a flash of its repulsors, the Auriga Fire peeled away from Second Company and accelerated to a higher orbit.

  Behind them, the ships of the Republic adopted battle formation, with the Corellia in the center and support vessels in a crisp tetrahedron around it. While fighters launched from hangar decks, its cannons trained on the approaching targets. The Grand Master said nothing, and the usual interfleet chatter ceased.

  “Fall in line, Auriga Fire,” came a terse request from the Corellia. “Fall in line!”

  Jet ignored it, but kept the tactical feed open.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” said Ula, thinking aloud. “If Xandret wants to stay isolated so badly, why would she want to talk to the Mandalorians? I’d have thought that’s exactly the wrong thing to do.”

  “Maybe the Cinzia didn’t represent everyone here,” Larin said. “Maybe the people who blew themselves up were a dissident group.”

  “And why attack rather than talk?” he asked, moving on to his next point of puzzlement. “Firing without provocation is madness.”

  “Without a doubt,” said Shigar. “They’ve practically signed their own death warrant.”

  The missiles roared out of the upper atmosphere and hit the first wave of defensive fire. A dense net of turbolaser pulses and ion torpedoes converged on the eight missiles. The nose of each missile activated a defensive shield not dissimilar to the ones seen on a much smaller scale on Hutta. Mirror-bright, they reflected laser pulses perfectly, and even deflected a large number of torpedoes. The space between the Corellia and the planet below was suddenly full of explosions.

  Out of that stew of hot gases only six missiles emerged. The debris of the two that had been hit tumbled on, following their final momentum. Tiny white dots gleamed in the light of the black hole’s jets.

  The six missiles hit another wave of defensive fire. The shields flashed again, blinking on and off in rapid succession—to conserve power, Ula assumed. The missiles weren’t large. They couldn’t defend themselves forever against this kind of assault.

  But they didn’t have to. Four of the original eight were now close enough to the capital ships to be an imminent threat. Fighters engaged, strafing the missiles from all directions at once. The shields couldn’t cover every possible approach. Three missiles faltered, their drive systems crippled and their sides spewing clouds of debris. The last thundered on, aimed squarely at the Corellia.

  The look on Shigar’s face was painful to see. His Master was aboard that ship, and a missile of that size was bound to do considerable damage, perhaps even destroy the Corellia outright. Ula wondered if she was hurrying for an escape pod at that very moment, hoping to outrun her fate.

  The missile survived the final wave of defensive fire and struck the Corellia just forward of its stardrive.

  Ula winced automatically, expecting a giant explosion.

  None came. The missile hit the golden hull with enough force to tear a hole right through it, but instead simply vanished inside. A blast of air and other gases roared out of the hole. No fire. The missile didn’t blow up.

  Fleet comms rose up again, betraying a slightly frantic note. Colonel Gurin was on the air, reassuring everyone that the cruiser was intact. There were no more launches visible from the ground. The attack from Sebaddon appeared to have completely fizzled.

  The clouds of debris from the seven fallen missiles, still rising under their own momentum, began to arrive. Some of it was scraps of torn hulls and engines. Much consisted of the same white dots Ula had glimpsed earlier. They sparkled like snowflakes in sunlight, drifting around the Republic ships in undirected streams.

  “Can we get a closer look at that stuff?” he asked. “If the missiles weren’t packed with explosives, maybe they weren’t missiles at all.”

  Jet complied, focusing the ship’s sensors on a nearby patch. The white dots resolved into blobs swimming like amoebas against the black sky.

  “I’ll see if I can increase the resolution,” he said.

  The view crystallized. The blobs became hexagonal objects waving six slender legs.

  Ula felt a wave of alarm. Hexes. Thousands upon thousands of hexes.

  “Get us away from them,” said Shigar. “Put me through to Colonel Gurin.”

  The view shifted to show one of the Republic attack vessels. The hexes were thicker there. Where the hexes encountered one another, they linked arms and bodies to form larger objects—long strings, nets, or clumpy balls. The cruiser drifted among them, blissfully unaware, even as the drifting hexes found purchase on its hull.

  “Get those ships out of there!” Shigar shouted into the subspace communicator. “They’re in terrible danger!”

  The reply was crackling and intermittent. “—interference—please repeat—” Behind his voice was the shrieking of alarms.

  Ula peered past Shigar to where the Corellia hung against the globe of the planet. Red fire now licked at the rent left by the missile. On Hutta, four hexes had almost beaten a Jedi, a Sith, and a Mandalorian. Over Sebaddon, a missile’s entire payload of hexes had been released into the body of a cruiser. He could only imagine what kind of damage such droids were causing in their hundreds among ordinary troops.

  “Forget the Corellia,” said Jet. “We have to warn the others.” He switched the comm to general broadcast. “This is the Auriga Fire. You are under attack. Use your fighters and gun emplacements to clear your hull. Then break orbit and head for clear space. The missiles contain the hexes we saw on Hutta. They’ll rip you apart if you don’t get clear of them.”

  “Tell them to ignore all orders from the Corellia,” said Ula. “If the network is compromised, the hexes could sow misinformation or worse.”

  Jet took up the advice and passed it on to the other ships. Only then did Ula kick himself for helping the Republic.

  But he couldn’t sit by and watch thousands of people die. The Republic had won the race. There was no advantage to be gained by assisting a slaughter.

  A blast of powerful static drowned out all communications for a second. Then a new voice spoke from the Corellia.

  “We do not recognize your authority!”

  “That’s the hexes speaking,” said Larin. “They’ve taken control.”

  “The Corellia’s launching escape pods,” said Shigar, pointing. “We have to get in closer. The pods will be able to dodge the hexes better than the big ships, but they need somewhere to rendezvous. We can give them that until someone else arrives.”

  “All right,” said Jet, tight-lipped. “I want you and Larin on the tri-lasers, keeping our path clear. If just one of those things gets in here, we’re all dead.”

  Shigar rose from his seat and vanished with Larin back into the ship.

  “Ula, up here,” said Jet, waving at the empty copilot’s seat. “Hetchkee, you’ll be on tractor control. Clunker, stop the signals from Corellia messing with our systems.” The droid came forward to jack himself into the ship’s computer again.

  As Ula changed seats, he noticed a bright flashing light on the instrument panel in front of Jet. “Is that important?”

  “Maybe, but it’s one thing w
e don’t have time to worry about right now.” Jet punched buttons in fast sequence across the instrument panel. “We have more company.”

  Ula adjusted his viewscreen so it pointed back at the black hole. By the light of the jets, he made out a string of ships emerging from hyperspace. A large cruiser and numerous smaller vessels, strung out in two precise lines. He recognized their configuration immediately, and a surge of surprise swept through him.

  Imperial ships.

  But how? Stryver had the navicomp. They must have tracked him down and taken it from him. That would explain why there was no sign of the Mandalorian in the system. Adrenaline made his heart pound harder and faster. Yes, it made sense.

  More than how they had gotten here, though, their very presence meant that there was still hope for an Imperial victory. With the Republic forces in such disarray, it would be easy to swoop in and overwhelm them.

  Only with difficulty did he suppress a triumphant grin. Sebaddon would become the Empire’s prize after all, and his mission would not have failed.

  Then he remembered where he was, and all thoughts of victory fell away. The Auriga Fire was helping the Republic. If the Empire beat the Republic, he would be dead.

  Aghast, he stared at the screen as the Imperial engines fired up their drives and powered in to attack.

  AX GRIPPED THE METAL rail separating the senior command post from the rest of the bridge. Her knuckles were white. She had never before experienced such turbulence in hyperspace. Pilots sometimes bragged of navigating the singularity-rich Maw and told stories of ships lost there in bizarre circumstances. She had always thought them likely to be exaggerated. Now, however, battling the influence of just one black hole, she wondered if she had been a bit hasty in her judgment. It hadn’t seriously occurred to her that she might be snuffed out of the universe by something as simple as a navigational accident. If this last jump from Circarpous V hadn’t been calculated to the greatest degree of precision possible …

  With an earsplitting groan, the Paramount burst back into realspace. A new kind of force immediately gripped the bulk cruiser, sending its crew rushing about to compensate for it. Ax let go of the rail and stood straight, lest anyone think her weak.

  “We have arrived at the coordinates, Darth Chratis.” The colonel was as thin as a medical droid, and his expression betrayed as much emotion. “All vessels are accounted for.”

  “Very good, Kalisch. Show me where we are.”

  Images danced around them, projected on massive viewscreens and holoprojectors around the bridge. The jets of the black hole were the first thing Ax noticed, stabbing like shining blades away from an invisible central point. They looked like narrowed eyes staring back at the galaxy in hatred.

  From the outside, the galaxy’s potential was completely revealed to her. With so many systems under her control, what couldn’t she achieve?

  “We have located a planet,” said the colonel, relaying a report delivered by one of his many underlings. “We believe it to be the one called Sebaddon.”

  Ax quelled a sudden rush of excitement. She could betray nothing in front of her Master: relief, ambition, hope …

  The screens shifted. A world torn and twisted by gravitational forces appeared before them, blurred with distance.

  “My lord,” said the colonel, “the most energy-efficient route is around the black hole.” A map appeared in one of the viewscreens showing a dotted line looping past the singularity then rising to meet the planet at apogee. “On your command, I will issue the orders to the fleet captains.”

  “Normally I prefer the direct approach,” Darth Chratis said, peering through slitted eyelids at the views before him. “What is this I see here?” One long finger picked out a particular view. “Energy spikes? Drive signatures?”

  The colonel cast a cold, questioning stare at his bridge staff.

  “I-it appears to be a space battle, my lord,” ventured one of them, standing timorously in the spotlight.

  “Identify those ships,” barked the colonel. “I want to know who sent them.”

  “Yes, sir.” The girl who had spoken sat down and began hammering furiously at her workstation.

  Ax wondered who could be fighting out here. Stryver had the navicomp, and she had the only whole hex remnant. Therefore it couldn’t possibly be the Republic. Could the Mandalore have formed an army so quickly? What could have roused him to unify his people against this strange outpost rather than a more credible enemy?

  “Republic ships, sir,” called someone from the bridge staff, proving her wrong. “Definitely Republic, and they’re taking a hammering, sir. No other visible combatants, but there may have been launches from the ground.”

  Darth Chratis grinned, and Ax grinned with him. The Republic had made its move and was being rebuffed. How much easier, then, to swoop in as the savior and “liberate” the planet, right into the Emperor’s arms!

  “Take us in, Colonel Kalisch,” Darth Chratis said. “Launch all fighters and prepare for battle.”

  “At this distance, our fighters would not be able to break free of the black hole’s gravitational pull,” Kalisch said, smoothly countermanding the order. “The moment it is safe, my lord, I will launch them.”

  “Very well,” hissed the Sith Lord. “That will have to do.” He wasn’t used to anything as lowly as physics standing between him and his wishes.

  “Full power, all engines,” Kalisch ordered the fleet. “Lock courses and prepare to engage!”

  The Imperial fleet came about, straining to reverse the considerable momentum it had already gained just by being in the black hole’s powerful gravitational field. The Paramount’s engines roared and rumbled, casting a bright blue light across those ships coming up in its wake. The lighter cruisers fared better than the massive bulk cruiser and its heavier support vessels. They caught up and began to draw ahead.

  It soon became abundantly clear that Kalisch’s original advice had been sound. Instead of picking up velocity as they whipped around the singularity’s event horizon, propelled by freely available gravity, they would struggle to gain every drop of delta-vee, wrung out of the engines at great expense. Their progress was painfully slow. Ax could feel her Master’s impatience growing—redoubled because he knew he could say nothing, threaten no one. This was his decision and his responsibility alone. The crew worked around him in perfect efficiency and with maximum effort. All knew that Darth Chratis would vent his frustration on the first person to fail him in the slightest possible way.

  Ax watched the long-range telemetry closely, eager to learn anything she could about the planet’s forces. What she saw puzzled her deeply. There were no ships apart from those belonging to the Republic. Furthermore, there was no obvious assault being conducted from the ground. It looked like the Republic fleet was fighting nothing at all.

  Even stranger, the Republic ships appeared to be attacking one another. Half the fleet appeared to be retreating, while the other half either did nothing or actively impeded the rest. As she watched, one small cruiser suddenly switched its drives to full, propelling it wildly into another ship, disintegrating both. It was as though something had infected half the fleet, driving it mad.

  Darth Chratis studied the same data with a deeply suspicious expression. Ax wondered if he thought it was a trap. But to what end? The Republic couldn’t possibly benefit from the destruction of its own ships.

  “Would you like me to hail either party?” the colonel asked.

  “No,” said Ax.

  Darth Chratis and Kalisch both turned to her in surprise.

  “Master, I advise against explicitly indentifying us as servants of the Emperor,” she said. “Remember that we are the enemy in Lema Xandret’s eyes.”

  “Perhaps the traitorous harridan will change her mind,” said Darth Chratis, “now that these weak-willed fools have found her.”

  With a blinding flash, the Republic’s capital ship exploded, casting debris in all directions. Ax shielded her eyes against
the glare.

  “They’re certainly not putting up much of a fight,” she said. Half the Republic ships had been destroyed or crippled. The rest were regrouping and recalling their fighters.

  “Regardless, the situation is clear. Sebaddon is no longer a secret. Xandret must choose to bow to the Emperor’s will or face the consequences.”

  “She’ll never agree to her own execution.”

  Darth Chratis studied her with cold eyes. “Naturally I will say nothing of the fate in store for her. Cease your questioning of my orders. Colonel Kalisch, announce our presence to the citizens of Sebaddon and advise them that we will be taking possession of their world once we have cleared the skies of this Republic rabble.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Ax went back to studying the viewscreens. The firing pattern of the Republic ships looked wrong to her, although she couldn’t quite put a finger on what disturbed her about it. Still no launches from the ground, although infrared showed numerous sites of activity. Cities and factories, Ax assumed, that would be bombed for certain if Xandret resisted. Ax’s instincts told her that victory wasn’t going to come as easily as an announcement of the Empire’s intent to annex the world, but at the same time she couldn’t see how a small, ground-based civilization could hope to prevail against the high ground of space. Even if they did have a mysterious weapon that drove ships and their crews crazy …

  The Republic forces must have been taken by surprise. So she was forced to assume. Colonel Kalisch would be sure not to make the same mistakes they had.

  No response came from the ground to the Paramount’s hail. Apart from garbled transmissions on Republic frequencies, the bands were empty.

  “They ignore us,” said Darth Chratis, “at their peril.”

  “Launching fighters in two minutes, my lord,” said Kalisch.

  Ax was already heading for the exit from the bridge. “Ready my interceptor,” she called behind her. “I’m going to take a closer look.”

  It took her a minute to descend from the bridge to the hangar deck, but it felt like forever. Her Mk. VII advanced interceptor had been shipped from Dromund Kaas with the rest of Darth Chratis’s matériel and kept fully fueled in case a fast launch was required. The ground crew had it warming up and ready for her by the time she got there. Its familiar jutting vanes reassured her in a way that no amount of deceptive diplomacy could. Forgoing a full flight suit, she slipped a helmet over her dreadlocks, climbed aboard, and activated the internal navicomp. It showed her the projected course for the many wings about to launch around her. She switched that off and mapped out her own trajectory.