Roche, 835 ABY

[Ashin Varanin]

Alu'ravenor - Alu to her friends - floated through the hurt freighter with lekku pinwheeling. Globules of charred blood drifted past, and the air filters were down or clogged. The lights flickered. Another impact shook the Transcendent as she touched a bulkhead, and the shiver traveled up her fingers to rattle her bones. She gripped the nearest edge, heedless that it was sharp, and dragged herself up or down or sideways into the cockpit. Captain Rolf Hamur was still buckled in, head lolling -- the source of the blood. "Sorry about that, lover," Alu murmured, more sympathy than survivor's guilt, and set about unstrapping him. He weighed about twice what she did, but in zero-gee all that meant was she had to brace herself and not get herself crushed against a bulkhead. She pulled him free and dragged him back to float into the cargo hold. Blood couldn't obscure the familiar smell of him, and her eyes prickled, but she left him drifting there and swam back to the seat he'd vacated.

Outside the cockpit was some approximation of Hell. Five Sith Empire Star Destroyers were turning to slag, holding the line against a Republic force with fewer guns but infinitely more small craft. The Star Destroyers had reinforcements, flanking forces, and they'd just done...something...with their defensive guns. Starfire had blossomed, and when it was finished, hundreds of Republic small craft were shrapnel and regret. Too late to save those Star Destroyers, though. That had been all they could muster. Now this part of the battle was winding down, elite evac ships taking off from the research-facility asteroid that the Sith Empire had been guarding. Buying time.

There was a separate battle unfolding around every other major asteroid Alu could detect. But to use her jump coordinates -- she didn't know how to calculate new ones -- she needed to be on the other side of the field. Mouth dry, she buckled in.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

He'd been older than her, Hamur. Ten years, fifteen. She tore the picture of his ethereal Omwati wife from the console and crumpled it up -- a long-planned action. But not one she'd ever considered in the context of his death. She grimaced and turned her attention from jealousy and regret and loss to the imminent business of survival.

The Transcendent bent its course away from the research base and the main habitable asteroid. Mandalorian raider ships were on station, and ori'ramikade were fighting Jedi for control of the long-range ion cannons, weapons that could control the battlefield. That, at least, was the speculation she was picking up from that direction, second- or third-hand. A lot of confusion, a lot of violence.

This course, though, looked clear enough. One small asteroid, an archival facility -- oh, no, there was a security warning and some kind of special field that prevented ships getting near without shutting down. A couple of small personal transports parked nearby, just out of range, and small figures were descending to the asteroid in space suits. As long as she stayed out of the field, though-

Reversion and collision sensors blared, and she yelped, jerking the control yoke. Something immense filled her viewport: a flat triangle, like a wide blade, a squashed Star Destroyer but bigger than any Star Destroyer in the 'verse. Her teeth ground as she skimmed the damaged freighter over its hull, drawing desultory fire from defensive guns. But its attention was on something else entirely. The archival asteroid began to take the brunt of concentrated fire, as if the ship's commander had a grudge against those tiny figures. The field dropped, and small craft traffic went mad. The turbolaser fire intensified. Something spanged loose in the engine compartment as Alu poured on the steam.

Oh, hell.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

She kept the comms open, scanning channels with Hamur's outstanding decrypt suite.

...the false Empress. We support the Dark Council in...

...lorians have taken control of the cannons. Master Watts has...

...was on that ship? What was...

...think you could defeat...

...believe Lord Velok was in personal...

...skyhook? Is that even possible? Is that slang? How did he...

...Kerrigan will get...

...you karking madman, you just rammed the Starfall...

...Pyre has the insurance...

...scape pods making for that asteroid. No, not that one, the other one...

...heavy walkers in the hangar as improvised artillery...

...say again, the prototypes in that facility must...

...the terentatek talked and it had a club and there was a flying mouse droid...

...Force she's bringing down the ceiling we're going to...

...anyone see which way...

...Empress is dead! The Grandmaster is dead! Long live the Sith Empire!...

...why would the Sith withdraw? Intel...

...that frigate moved like a personal transport -- where'd it go and...

...Stahlmann is taking control of the base...

...escorts? A Shorn and that vicious airhead Demont...

...used by Sirella Valkner...

Alu's course required drawing near to the asteroid where a ship's worth of Sith Empire evacuation transports and ground forces had landed. Where Omega Pyre troops led by Siobhan Kerrigan were locked in close combat with the Empire over the question of elite starfighter blueprints. Where something called a terentatek had been unleashed. By the time she got near the jump point, Alu was a bundle of nerves and the freighter was doing little better.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The moment of truth came and went as the hyperdrive revved up and down again. Down to silence. The bottom dropped out of Alu's world. Hamur, though, had made sure she knew which end was up when it came to the Transcendent and its systems, and he'd drilled her in emergency checklists. With shaking fingers, she set a broad semicircular course to loop around this end of the battlefield, then cracked open the console.

The artificial gravity, the inertial dampeners, the relativistic shielding, the engines themselves -- all within a hair of self-destruction. She had to add the hyperdrive to that list. They'd taken the efflux of those Star Destroyers' turbocharged point-defense bombardment. More than enough to break and crumple everything from stem to stern.

The comm chatter took a different note. Bewildered hope, elation. The Sith had pulled off their coup against their own Empress and were withdrawing with their prizes. The Mandalorians were withdrawing too. The Republic had, in a very real sense, lost everything of value about this engagement. But they were the only ones left now. Winners by default.

The mopping-up would take another half-hour, and the engines would die twice, before Alu made it to the main asteroid city. Today had seen a Sith Empress and her First Apprentice presumed dead, not to mention Jedi Grandmaster Darron Wraith -- though third-hand reports said the Empress had impaled him but one Rosa Mazhar had rescued him from the bombardbment. Colonel Siobhan Kerrigan of Omega Pyre was being called the Butcher of Roche, but she'd carried the day. Admiral Friedrich Stahlmann was the toast of every officer's mess. The names of Mia Monroe and Rach Kol-Rekali were vilified. Grandmaster Ben Watts, co-founder of the modern Order, was the hero of the day, even if the Mandalorians had worn him down through sheer numbers.

Already there was noise about a new front at Contruum. Everyone was on edge. In that environment, then, she had to negotiate docking rights in a war zone.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Nickel One was in uproar. A Republic strike team had forcibly taken over internal transportation and shut it all down to obstruct their Mandalorian counterparts. The Mandos had foreseen that, courtesy of a precog-specialist Dark Master on their team, or maybe just common sense, and had shown up with hoverbikes that handled the stalled transit pipes admirably. Mass transit was just barely beginning to function again, and Republic soldiers were everywhere, ensuring the Mandos hadn't left any nasty surprises. What that translated to was suspicion and a lot of it -- from the Verpine, and from the Pubs. Strange faces and incomplete shipping manifests weren't welcome here, even of that face was a teenage Twi'lek girl. Woman. She thought of playing that advantage to the hilt every time a Republic trooper gave her a twice-over. Every time, though, she thought of Hamur. Made herself think of him, rather. He was fading in her mind.

Eventually she netted docking privileges and sold the Transcendant to a scrap dealer for a pittance. Scrap was worthless in this system today. It wound up being enough money for a ticket, a drink, and a bunk over the cantina. The lum tasted like insects and metal lubricant. The bunk was one of eight in the same room, and the Herglic's snoring kept everyone playing sabacc until the wee hours. By then the lum had worn off, Alu was down to her dingy underthings, and a magnificently statuesque enhanced human had beat the clart out of a man who'd brought a skifter to the table. Alu was too tired to be anything other than amused. Didn't stop her from taking back her jumpsuit and boots.

Come morning she found her ticket was gone.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

She spent the morning helping Republic troopers nurse their hangovers, and getting the whole story piece by piece. The Sith fleet had held Stahlmann at bay long enough for a science team to disassemble and evacuate a monstrous experimental reactor. The name Valik was muttered in dark tones. The Dark Council, led by Sirella Valkner -- who'd overseen the wholesale butchery at Ossus -- and Darth Voracitos, had arrived in Voracitos' command ship. They'd summarily glassed the asteroid on which Empress Ashin Varanin, Desmius the First, had been locked in combat with Grandmaster Wraith. Wraith was confirmed to have survived, and even though he'd taken Varanin's arm and she'd run him through with her lightsabre, he'd been the one to evacuate her from the asteroid after they were both overcome. So Varanin might be alive, if her First Apprentice's little ship had survived that insanely massive bombardment.

The Omega forces had billed the Republic in a comprehensive way, their command ship having suffered some damage when a Sith Empire general had rammed it. Sith troops were still being rooted out of the factory asteroid where they'd made their last stand en masse. The Republic had control of the Roche system and had established a dialogue with the Verpine leaders. New things, great things, were in the offing. Admiral Stahlmann had been decorated again, but Lord Velok was believed to have escaped, pursued by a strike team or two. Virtually everyone who'd stood alongside Master Watts had died at the hands of Rach Kol-Rekali and the ori'ramikade, but Watts had held them off -- all of them -- until control of the ion cannons almost didn't matter.

By the end of the day, Alu was tipsy, thoroughly pawed, bored and sick of the whole mess, and seriously considering trying to stow away aboard a Republic cruiser. Those were the only ships going in or out of the system just now, after all. Total lockdown. This was now officially the front line; the Sith had dug in on Metalorn, a short jump away.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Come nighttime, she was hungrier than bar snacks could satisfy. It was at this point she discovered she was in the wrong cantina.

The one down the tunnel catered to expats. Humans, mostly, but also enough other species to make her feel at ease. The expat community on Nickel One was apparently strong enough to warrant its own social scene, custom drinks, and modes of dress and address. Within about five minutes she'd been hit on three times (Gran, Ishi Tib, Wookiee) and was sharing a half-raw kebab with an erudite Barabel. The Barabel's eyes kept flicking from the bloody meat to Alu's lekku, but so far as predators went he wasn't today's worst. Plus the kebab was actual nerf.

"Look here," he said, forked tongue flickering against her shoulder. They were leaning close together in a corner booth. He fished inside his flight suit and came out with a lump of metal ore. Something orange glowed in its heart. "Iss pyronium, yess. Abssorbs electromagnetissm and convertss it into localissed hypersspace manifoldss."

She'd never heard of pyronium or hyperspace manifolds, and between the kebab and the Barabel's rising body temperature she only had so much attention to spare. Even so...

"It's cold," she said, touching it with one finger.

"Heat iss energy. Thiss iss for a collector on Obroa-Sskai."

"The library world?"

The Barabel nodded. "An archivisst of ssome renown will pay a fortune for it." His talons tightened around it, and he stuffed it back inside his bodysuit. "Could come with. Could cut you in."

Ah, the subtleties of subtext.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The door blew in with a snarl of Republic weaponry, and in came the plasteel. Three men and a Jedi. The Jedi wouldn't look her in the eye; his gaze kept flicking to her chest, though she wasn't doing much but sitting while they booked the Barabel. She palmed the pyronium from where he'd stuffed it in the couch cushions at the last second, and she knew that he'd seen. Putting her boots on the booth table, she ate the rest of his nerf kebab, staring at the Jedi insolently. Her legs blocked his view of her chest; he didn't seem to mind overly much, though after a minute he blinked and just looked away entirely, blushing.

"What's the matter?" She dropped the skewer on the platter and slid her boots off the table. "You feeling like booking me, Officer Jedi? Feel like restraining me?" He had to be a good five years her senior, farm boy turned Jedi Knight in the classical vein. She wasn't interested, and she didn't think she was giving that impression either. She was mocking him, and he knew it. When she stood, she stretched and caught his eye. When she bent over to get her bag, she definitely caught his eye. Didn't make her feel too good, but after this long it didn't make her feel much of anything, and needs must. The more he was irritated and turned on, the less chance he had of getting his serenity mumbo-jumbo to work right. Which meant he wouldn't sense the nervousness and desperation she was hiding. Or the deception.

He didn't say a word, though the troopers chuckled and even the Barabel hissed. Then again, the hiss might have been anything.

Alu walked out with the pyronium up her sleeve. Obroa-Skai was supposed to be nice.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Miss? Can you wait up a second?"

She glanced back, past the edgy Verpine and edgier Republic troops, and felt her stomach sink as the Jedi caught up. He was pale, darkish hair, violet eyes hinting at a not-quite-human ancestry. Frankly, he looked like a Vahla vagabond in burlap. "Yeah?"

He led her into a side passage, an alley that smelled mainly of sweat and ryll kor. Bad memories, but nothing she couldn't handle. "I didn't want to mention it in front of the troops," he said quietly, leaning close, "but it wasn't just his sympathies that got Boressk nabbed. He was also a bit of a launderer."

"His wardrobe suggested otherwise."

"I get that. That's funny." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, the thing he had was...special. Dangerous. And you've got it up your sleeve. Thing about pyronium is, it resonates in the Force. You weren't to know."

Alu sucked her teeth. "Look, Mister Jedi, can I level with you?"

"Sure. Call me Certh."

"Certh. Everything I own got scrapped, sold, or stolen yesterday. What's up my sleeve gets me passage off this rock, someplace I don't have to pay for air."

"Could also get you killed."

"By you?"

He grimaced. "I'm not my -- look, I'm just trying to watch out for you. You don't know what you're carrying."

She patted his cheek, maybe a bit harder than intended. "Then give me a finder's fee and it's yours."

His eyes sparked, but he nodded. "All right, I can actually do that."

"Seriously?"

"Sure." He fished in one of his belt pouches and came out with a keypass. "The keys to his ship. I'll lift the flightlock on it soon as we've finished booking him."

"You're going to...give me a ship? For this?" A twist of her hand, and she held up the pyronium. "A rock."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Well, it's a really nice rock and a really crappy ship," said the Jedi with a shrug. "So is it a deal?"

"Easy, hotshot." She tossed the pyronium and caught it, then eyed the keypass. "Is it gassed up? There crew aboard?"

"It fuelled up while we had it under surveillance. He worked alone, except for a rotating selection of, um, companions without technical skills."

"I know a lot of cafarels who'd dispute that judgment," she said, voice dry. "What kind of ship is it?"

A shrug. "I don't know ships."

"Grow up under a rock?"

"Pre-tech planet. Close enough." He rubbed his eyes. "Look, I've had a long fething day and my big brother borked the jawa again, so please, just take the deal."

"Big man, armed, in private, capable of handwavey chokey mindfrakky tricks, trying to force a deal on me when I'm on my lonesome? Done." She snatched the keycard from his hand and left the pyronium in its place. "I own you now, sonnyboy."

The ghost of a smile. "Have a good one, lady."

"No ladies here unless you're asking for castration." It wasn't her line; some Sith or other (Sinister or something like that) was reputed to have said it, but Alu had it twelfth-hand and it was a good one. Again, Certh smiled and this time it seemed like he meant it.

One little piece of pyronium in hand, Alu whistled all the way to the docking bay.