Chapter Text
3,653 years before the Battle of Yavin, 6,101 kilometres above Coruscant.
And so the battle raged.
For it was only right, only natural, only fair.
It was the scent of victory wafting and lazing on the air.
Ah, how beautiful it is to feel a galaxy’s hope kneel before you, just one cut away from begging, and two from death.
From the square viewport of the General’s Chambers, she saw flurries of glowing plasma bombarding the dreadnought’s shields – power surge, and so the lights flickered – but she stood tall, watching, hardly able to keep herself from smiling the widest she had for thirteen years.
For she was human, so she was indomitable.
Her life had led up to this moment, and she would be damned if it ever faded from her mind. In but a moment, she and the ship would be planetside, and finally, the Galactic Pox would be well and truly cured.
All she needed was to wait for the signal.
The portside antifighter turbolasers fired. The Republic’s defence, much like its rhetoric, was impotent. Fighters exploded, their debris peppering Space like the finest spice.
Victory tasted ever nearer.
Koray Chuchi knew she had agreed to this.
The defence of the capital came first, even before the lives of its servants.
And in times this dire, she had to reason that everything was necessary to secure the planet.
Because she couldn’t understand. She just couldn’t.
The best of the Republic and of the Order were far from the galactic Core, deep in negotiations with the Sith, negotiating a peace . Even thinking that word made spite bubble up inside her.
What kind of peace was this? Bombarding the other side’s capital and – she thought, anyway – cutting off all communication? This peace was a lie; just like everything which ever came out of a Sith mouth.
Maybe she could understand. But the battle was too hectic for philosophising.
She hardly even knew what was going on, even as she and the pilots she had grown to think of as far, far more than just soldiers advanced towards a Sith dreadnought.
All that was concrete in her mind was that, if any time was wasted, the Republic; peace, freedom, and democracy, would fall. Everything was at stake. This was more than her life. More than anyone’s. In the Force, their lives would guide the galaxy’s future once they pass on, and in the Force, Koray felt their hearts beat as one, and in the Force, regardless of the battle around them, there was peace.
And so the feeling of peace spread over her, Lorna, Carth, and Jada, and they focused on their target.
Because they had agreed to this.
And now the Jedi and the soldiers bored through the crowded void of space for the Harrower-class dreadnought dead in the centre of the Sith offensive. Three of the four, together in perfect formation, linked by Koray’s perfect use of the Force, all in an incredible state of focus, banked forty-five degrees and flew perfectly between a Sith corvette’s communications antennae, and now were faced by the side profile of the massive, wedge-shaped Harrower-class dreadnought, and with it its hangar bay: their target.
Lorna hung back behind the others, not going between the antennae and instead waiting for the others to do so, and then she opened fire on the comms units, thus severing them from their host. She flew under the now-floating antennae as the corvette’s antifighter defences increased in strength tenfold, but somehow, she wasn’t bothered.
Perhaps the calm was numbness, but more than likely it was just Koray’s influence. It was one of those Jedi things.
Lorna then quickly grabbed her throttle lever, and pushed it so hard forward it felt like it could snap off. With her thrusters running at maximum energy, she caught up easily with the others, and radioed over to them.
“Another comms unit out of order,” came the buzzing speech over Koray’s communicator.
“The less co-operation between their forces, the better.”
“That’s the first step to killin’ them off, is to stop their orders, ‘cause they isn’t any good at indepennant thinking,” came Carth over the communicator, speaking in that unique way that always set him apart, even among other Rimmers.
“Mm,” mumbled Koray, “as agreed, forward.”
“Affirm.” Jada.
“Ayy-firm.” Carth.
“ ‘firmative.” Lorna.
The dreadnought’s side hangar bay was shielded; they knew from experience that every inch of these things was shielded better than a rolling colicoid. Koray took a moment – though to any outsider it would seem to be less than a millisecond – and mentally mapped the entire ship, even the parts she couldn’t see.
She reached into the Force, the infinite spring of knowledge and wisdom, and so she saw everything, every footstep taken beneath the dreadnought’s metal skin, every emotion, every corridor and chamber – everything inside the ship came alive, and so everything came as clearly into view as though she was standing everywhere in the ship all at once.
Ignoring for now the buzz in the hangar, there was a lot of activity in a small room further towards the ship’s frontal cone - the bridge. There was a sense of confidence radiating from every person there, so of course, they were Sith.
In the Force, there were no such things as Koray Chuchi, Lorna Naedi, Carth Gilladd, or Jada Hess. They were all one being, one collective pilot, and their ships were their clothes, as easy to control as shirts and as natural as skin. So, together as one pilot of four ships, they turned, and set sights on the no doubt heavily shielded bridge.
Laser-fire peppered them, both from other fighters and the dreadnought’s defences, but the collective pilot’s flesh, though burn-marked, did not feel pain, and so it flew on, even if one of the pilots’ portside control surfaces had been shot out, even if there was a missile behind them, because there was no such thing as ‘worry’ in the Force.
The pilots all collectively aimed, barrelling through space just faster than the missile their readouts beeped incessantly in notice of, and readied their own missiles.
“Now.” Said Koray, and in unison the four fighters launched their missiles, which spiralled forth through space and smashed into the bridge shields with one collective explosion.
The shields sufficiently protected it from harm as all the shielding power coalesced immeasurably quick in front of the bridge, sacrificing the defence of the rest of the ship in under a second to protect the bridge, and then the shielding returned to coating the entire vessel at standard capacity. Well, as standard as possible – the shield generators were already quite damaged, which was why the shielding was functioning so sporadically.
The fighters pulled harshly back and up into a loop, flying straight through the remains of the missile explosion and coming out of the loop upside-down, righting themselves with four simultaneous barrel rolls. The missile that had been tracking them couldn’t turn fast enough, and so it crashed and exploded into the Sith dreadnought’s bridge shields.
They turned back toward the dreadnought’s hangar bay.
The hangar doors began to open. Once they were roughly halfway open, the shields went down – only visible in the slight dimming of a blue tint – and at the same time the anti-fighter flak thickened, and in under a second both Lorna and Carth’s ships had been hit, but their courses stayed as straight as they could.
Koray took her right hand and put it to a pocket in her robes, sewn in on the chest, opposite to the heart. Inside the pocket was her comms unit. She retched up a sob she didn’t know she had and then held down the comms unit’s activator button.
“It’s been an honour,” she said, tears somehow streaming down the noble Jedi’s face, “May the Force be with you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Koray.” Lorna, in between sobs and grunts of exertion trying to keep her fighter on course. “Good luck.”
“I love you all. For the– agh! –for the Republic!” Jada, stuttering as a cannonbolt exploded her right wing, and her ship began veering wildly.
“I couldn’ have wished for better friends in the galaxy,” Carth, “even since Korriban.”
A Sith Interceptor whizzed by, flying out of the hangar bay, quickly followed by three more. Jada’s fighter began veering even further right, and in half a second it had tumbled out of control straight into the dreadnought’s metal hull, right below the hangar door, which by now had begun to close.
The other Republic soldiers took either side of Koray, and acted as shields – as the now three fighters got closer to the hangar, Carth’s fighter was hit straight in the nose and it tumbled forward over itself, then exploded as the cockpit viewport shattered and the vacuum of space claimed him.
The door inched further closed, and a Sith anti-fighter bolt made contact with Koray’s left wing, scorching and heavily damaging the tip, and causing her to bank severely – but with the Force’s assistance, she stayed on course. Who needs an astromech?
The door was almost closed. Lorna, from her viewport, saluted Koray, and then had her left wing severed by a Sith hyperlaser. Koray just barely passed through the hangar door – she heard paint scraping off the top of the cockpit hatch – and saw behind her Lorna’s ship smashing into the door and exploding. Koray’s rear thrusters were caught in the blast, and as her ship entered the hangar bay, it spun wildly, skidding along the floor with a deafening screech.
The hangar doors closed behind her, and her ship crashed into the wing of a B-28 bomber, one of tens lying in wait inside the Herald of Titan. The bomber was pushed to the side the tiniest amount by the force of the impact, and Koray’s own ship suffered a part of its previously-damaged wing crumpling.
Through the Force, Koray popped the canopy, and it sprung open, and she sprung out, summoning her lightsaber from her belt.
She sensed no Sith in the hangar proper – a few personnel were down the far hall, running towards her – so the lightsaber stayed deactivated for now, and instead she reached further into the Force, gave herself truly up to it, and through her the Force ran with inhuman speed from the fighter’s husk to a door near her. It opened automatically.
The Jedi ran down the hall, not stopping itself to think of such things as emotion. Its judgement could not be clouded – although this was not a conscious thought of Koray Chuchi’s mind.
Let’s hope the schematics are right, she thought, boarding an elevator, so we can greet the General properly.