Elzar Mann had just enough time to clutch the harness before the Vessel jarred violently.
“Hang on to your hindquarters!” Leox called as the ship went into a sharp dive. Almost immediately, another jolt—weapons fire—struck the Vessel. Elzar exhaled sharply, half expecting to be ejected into space, but the tiny ship was holding together.
For the moment.
Orla Jareni called out, “What kind of weaponry does the Vessel have?”
“Not much!” Affie replied. “One gun back behind cargo. It wouldn’t open a durasteel crate.”
Elzar and Orla shared a worried glance. Elzar said, “Why do you even have it, then?”
It was Leox who shouted back, “It’s more there to look scary than to be scary, psychology being a critical element of most standoffs. Little late for that now.”
“Take the gun,” Elzar suggested to Orla. “Some defensive fire has to be better than none.”
“We’re about to find out.” Orla unhitched her harness and ran toward the back of the ship. For his part, Elzar made his way to the cockpit, the better to see exactly how much trouble they were in.
As soon as he’d seen it, he wished he hadn’t. The Echerta system was swarming with Nihil ships—literally—swooping in every direction, like clouds of Corellian sting-gnats. Were there ten? Twelve? They moved too swiftly to be easily counted. Since Echerta served as a hub among multiple hyperspace lanes, dozens of ships had emerged here—either hoping to stop in at the system’s space station or simply to change course, as the Vessel had—only to be waylaid. For their part, the Nihil were attacking everyone and everything, with no clear battle lines or directions of assault. What was their goal? What was its purpose? Elzar couldn’t fathom it.
Had they fractured the Nihil from one cohesive group into many smaller ones, all with different aims and purposes? Elzar hoped not. But the death throes of the Nihil would apparently remain dramatic for a while to come.
At the sight of this mayhem, Leox Gyasi bit down grimly on his lower lip; Geode remained stoic. But the copilot, Affie Hollow, was too young to look entirely unshaken. “So,” she said, almost evenly, “I’m guessing we haven’t already jumped back into hyperspace for a reason?”
“That reason,” Leox said, “would be that we are currently busy—as in, very busy—dodging Nihil fire.” As though to illustrate, Leox took them hard to port, just evading a Nihil barrage. “Without a steady location or a predictable vector, even a navigator as good as Geode has a hell of a time getting a ship safely into hyperspace—particularly around here, which is kind of tricky as hyperspace junctions go. A couple of weapons hits, we’ll survive. But a hyperspace splice? That’s nothing but an invitation to die.”
“All the same,” Elzar interjected, “I’d rather we didn’t take any more weapons hits. These Nihil seem well armed—better than we’re shielded, I think.”
“You think correctly,” Leox said. “However, you will note that the Nihil have not consulted our preferences about how often we’d like to get shot, since our answer would have been a flat zero.”
Affie sucked in a sharp breath as Leox steered them down just in time to miss yet another Nihil barrage. Elzar forced himself not to get caught up in the crew’s reactions and closed his eyes.
He wasn’t yet sure whether he trusted himself to use the Force fully, freely, without falling back on bad habits. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t call on it at all.
Reach out. Elzar’s awareness through the Force emanated beyond this one small ship, expanding like a bubble throughout the system, until it seemed to him that he could sense the life within each Nihil ship like a pinprick of heat within the vast, cold emptiness of space. His breathing slowed along with his perception of time. Elzar traced the path of each Nihil vessel until he could almost see them moving in his mind, their courses like red trails—stretching into both past and future.
Elzar’s eyes opened. “Geode, take us to point seven mark three nine by two seven seven.”
He sensed Affie and Leox giving each other a look, but Leox said only, “Give it a shot.” Although Geode remained motionless, the Vessel immediately pivoted toward the coordinates Elzar had named.
“We’re clear there,” Elzar said. “Clear long enough to launch to hyperspace, anyway.”
Affie stared at him over her shoulder. “Wait. Aren’t we going to—you know—go to the rescue? Isn’t that what you Jedi do?”
“Do you think we can?” Elzar asked. He knew as well as she did that they couldn’t. Although it tore at his soul to see lives endangered—and lost—their ship’s limitations were clear. Lingering in this system would save no one else; it would only risk those aboard the Vessel. At the moment, these were the only lives Elzar could save.
Still, it took Affie a few long seconds to reply. “I guess we can’t,” she said. “Maybe we should arm this thing someday, Leox.”
“Not a bad idea, boss lady,” Leox said. “However, barring a highly unlikely retail opportunity occurring in the next few minutes, it does not serve us at this time.”
“Wait a second.” Orla Jareni appeared behind Elzar, her white robes stark compared with the darkness that surrounded them. “We’re just going to cut and run?”
This, in Elzar’s opinion, was a very undignified way to refer to a strategic retreat. “We can’t beat them. You must see that.”
“We don’t have to beat the Nihil to help save lives,” she insisted. “We just have to hurt them, and we can.”
Leox’s long face split in a grin. “Now, that’s the kind of rascality I like to hear. Whatcha thinking, Orla?”
“The Nihil are devastating because they act in concert.” Orla elbowed Elzar aside in a way that would’ve been rude if the situation weren’t so dire. “They can’t manage coordinated attacks if they can’t coordinate. To coordinate they need communication—”
“Which means you want to screw with their communications systems,” Affie finished for her. “Sounds great. But how?”
“If any of us knew how to disrupt their systems, we wouldn’t have a Nihil problem to begin with,” Orla said, kneeling by Geode’s side. “There’s one thing we could do, though—flood the frequencies.”
Elzar frowned. “They’ll have us screened out. That’s basic defense.”
But Orla shook her head, a wide, wicked smile spreading across her face. “They’ll have warships screened out. Larger freighters. Even single-pilot fighters. What they won’t have screened is a little bitty hauler like the Vessel.”
“So few people realize what a gift it is to be underestimated.” Leox’s smile was nearly as broad as Orla’s. “You do comprehend we’ll only be able to stall the Nihil a couple minutes before they catch on?”
Orla nodded. “But that’s a couple minutes the ships in this area can use to get away.”
Elzar finally saw it, too. By refusing to match an opponent—by not only acknowledging their ship’s smallness but by embracing it—Orla Jareni had found a way to claim a kind of victory and to save hundreds of lives. That kind of thinking should be instinctive, to a Jedi; Elzar wondered if it would ever become so for him.
Already Leox and Affie were working swiftly at their controls, setting up a multi-frequency broadcast at top volume. Affie asked, “So what should we play for our Nihil friends?”
“Who doesn’t love the margengai glide?” Leox punched a button with decisive glee. “I know I do.”
The song—a popular dance tune for at least the last several decades—filled the cockpit of the Vessel, jaunty and fast. It was possibly the least appropriate music Elzar could imagine for a space battle, which made it all the more satisfying to imagine it blaring from the comm systems of all these Nihil ships at once.
“Unfortunately, the other ships have to hear it, too,” Orla conceded, “but I doubt they’ll mind for long.”
Indeed, already the Nihil ships were showing signs of disarray. It wouldn’t take them long to compensate—individual ships would have battle plans they could follow in the absence of orders being given, and soon surely they would begin blocking frequencies—but their prey required only a few instants. Civilian ships began to vanish into hyperspace, one after the other, tiny bright sparks of white disappearing into the stars. A bubble around the nearest space station shimmered into being as they managed to get their shielding back online.
Sensors began to beep ominously. Affie winced. “The Nihil are scanning for the source of the signal.”
“Looks like they found it,” Leox drawled, even as Nihil ships began changing course to head their way. “Which means it’s time we were going. Ready, Geode?”
Before Geode could answer, the first spray of weapons fire lit up the space around them, and one bolt found its target. The Vessel lurched sideways as damage sensors squealed. Elzar stared at the ship schematics, which revealed a direct hit on their starboard engine. “Can we still fly?”
“About to find out,” Leox said, still as casual as though he had not a care in the world. He grabbed the lever on the controls, and—
Elzar breathed out in relief. The dazzling blue of hyperspace had never looked so good. Geode must have input new coordinates in the nick of time.
Meanwhile, the margengai glide continued playing. Apparently Leox hadn’t been lying when he said he loved the song.
When Orla turned to go, Elzar left the cockpit with her, both because the space was too small for guests to remain comfortable for long and because he wanted a word with her. “What made you think of it?” Elzar asked. “What reminded you that we didn’t have to be aggressive? That we could be…small, even playful, and in being so, achieve a victory?”
Orla gave him an odd look. “I’ve never had to be reminded of that,” she said gently. “Stay on your current path, Elzar, and you’ll see it, too.”
Could it be that easy?
Although the initial wave of wounded had resulted in a great deal of work, the atmosphere aboard Starlight Beacon was regaining its equilibrium. Stellan Gios had seen to it that the medical tower was operating smoothly, that resources had been diverted accordingly, and that space traffic to Starlight in the next several days would be limited: only necessary arrivals, only scheduled departures. Even though the current attacks appeared to be small and scattered, they were still doing real damage. Therefore, until the Nihil had been quieted again, Stellan preferred to know the identity and vector of any ship in the system.
This had met with the approval of most aboard the station and all Jedi (and, particularly, Estala Maru). However, not everyone saw the wisdom of this move.
“I move where my business takes me, and when it takes me.” This came from Koley Linn, owner and pilot of the cargo ship Ace of Staves. He was a thirty-something human with curly brilliant-red hair and a perpetual smirk, which at the moment had twisted into a sneer. “Not when some artificial schedule tells me to.”
Stellan was grateful they were speaking via holo—Ops to the main cargo bay—and not in person, as that reduced the chances that Koley Linn could hear his pained sigh. “We’re not assigning departure times. You can almost certainly choose your own time to leave. You simply have to register the leaving time for Ace of Staves at least two hours in advance—”
“What if I take on a job that requires me to leave immediately?” Linn demanded.
Even a Jedi’s patience had limits. Stellan was nearing his. “First of all, given the recent Nihil activity, I doubt anyone’s going to be in a hurry to move cargo until the situation has quieted further. Secondly, if someone is fool enough to offer you a job in these circumstances, I strongly suggest you turn it down, because your ship will not be allowed to leave without a scheduled departure time. If you dislike these terms, refusing to schedule your earliest possible departure seems a rather perverse course of action.”
Koley Linn looked like he’d rather punch Stellan in the face than simply schedule a departure. This was not a man who wanted to be told what to do—no matter how reasonable the suggestion might be. He simply snapped off his hololink, cutting Stellan off. Stellan considered the rudeness a small price to pay to be done with the man for a while.
“Charming fellow,” said Regald Coll, who’d joined Stellan in Ops just before the call. “Makes you wonder who would be in a big hurry to enjoy his company.”
“Makes you wonder what rules he’s willing to break, if people hire him despite that attitude.” Stellan rubbed his temples.
Forfive rolled up beside Stellan, brimming with energy. “I greatly anticipate the chance to organize the ship departure schedules for you, Master Stellan!”
“Just call me Stellan, please. You sound like a Padawan.” Stellan brightened, however, at the realization that from now on he could make Koley Linn deal with JJ-5145 instead. Maybe Elzar’s gift would prove to be far more than a practical joke. “In fact, let’s get you set up to—”
“Excuse me,” said the operator droid on the comm, “but there’s an incoming message from Queen Thandeka of Eiram.”
Stellan and Regald exchanged glances. Although Thandeka was only the queen consort—her wife, Queen Dima, was queen regnant and the true ruler—she had a history with the Jedi. That history made her not only one of the biggest supporters of both the Jedi Order and the Republic in this area of space, but also her world’s designated spokesperson on such matters. Although Stellan would have preferred to go back to checking station preparations before the next wave of wounded arrived, Queen Thandeka was at least a far more enjoyable conversationalist than Koley Linn. Taking his seat, Stellan said, “Put her through.”
The holo shimmered into life again, this time revealing Thandeka, a human woman around fifty years of age with tawny skin and wide streaks of silver in her thick dark hair. Her face lit up as she recognized him. “Master Gios. You honor me with your attention.”
“Always a pleasure, Your Majesty,” Stellan said with a smile. “How may I help you?”
Worry etched a small line between Thandeka’s eyebrows. “The people of Eiram have of course heard of the scattered Nihil attacks. We are grateful that Starlight Beacon orbits our world at present, to keep us safe.”
Stellan nodded pleasantly, though inside he was thinking that this seemed an odd use of a diplomatic call.
But then Thandeka continued, “You no doubt recall that we were due to use Starlight’s tractor beam capacity to help finalize the desalination plant repairs during the next two days—to shift the final layer of the aqueduct into place.”
“Of course,” Stellan said. “I’m afraid other priorities must take precedence now, but we should be able to turn to the work very shortly.”
“We understand the delay,” she said, “but do any of your scientists or analysts have time to make sure that the desalination plant is stable enough to last for another several days or so, long enough to resolve these few troubles? We used only temporary joisting in its place, since those supports weren’t meant to be needed very long—”
“I’ll task someone to look into it immediately,” Stellan promised. He might not have anyone to spare besides a droid, but an astromech would have more than enough capacity to run those numbers. “Don’t be afraid, Queen Thandeka. We will not forget Eiram or its people. We will strive to do our best for all those in need at this time.” He smiled at her, genuinely glad to be reminded, for a moment, that his task was greater than running after the latest crisis. This was about unifying space under the peaceful banner of the Republic, and about bringing justice and safety to millions who had never truly known it before. He added, “We are all the Republic.”
He was rewarded with Thandeka’s own warm smile as she repeated, “We are all the Republic.”