The Last Full Measure/Chapter Eight

The Last Full Measure

Chapter Eight

The flight over to the Interdictor-class cruiser Wrangler was silent but short, with Lieutenant Dunnigal piloting what he called a Herald-class shuttle. The boxy, rather ungainly craft looked vaguely familiar, as though it were based off of a previous design that I'd once seen but couldn't place. The cockpit, which normally seated two in tandem, was situated on a high protrusion that extended over the main hull, which resembled an old-fashioned square-tent shelter that held cargo for orbit-to-ground transport or ferrying between starships. Silas and I shared the aft seat while the one-eyed lieutenant took the helm, bringing us into the warship's vast bay with understandable hesitancy. The shuttle landed with a slight bounce, and we exited in good order.

If the shuttle itself was slightly shabby-looking, it was nothing to the hangar into which it had brought us. Sith interceptors, their wings folded, hung in overhead racks; several of them seemed to be missing panels, while at least one looked as though it was about to fall from its moorings. The deck was stained more than what would normally be tolerated with lubricants and spilled fuel, and a number of blaster burns, along with what looked like shallow furrows carved by a lightsaber, could be seen scattered about in clusters. The bulkheads as well were equally stippled by blasterfire, and one section near the magnetic containment shield barrier looked like it had been blown open by an ill-placed grenade, nearly compromising the entire compartment.

This place had been the scene of one hell of a fight.

“I must apologize, it doesn't get much better further in,” Lieutenant Dunnigal said, noticing our examinations. “We've been focusing our repair efforts on vital systems, and don't have the personnel or resources to spare on appearances.”

I nodded grimly, picking up residual traces of the combatants' emotions through the Force. This had, clearly, been where Farfax, Dunnigal, and their troopers had cornered Terep; a psychic bloodstain of darkness, which spattered the deck and bulkhead near the grenade impact, marked the spot where the former Jedi Knight had died. “A lot happened here,” I said, placing a reassuring hand on the young officer's shoulder. “This was where you made your stand, isn't it?”

“How do you...?” Dunnigal asked, fixing me with a wide, one-eyed stare.

“It's a long story, Lieutenant,” I said simply. “Who's your senior starfighter mechanic?”

“That would be Chief Gerrus,” he replied, pointing to a balding, swarthy man in filthy coveralls who was shoulder-deep in the innards of a fallen fighter in a corner of the bay. “He's over there, cannibalizing one of the Interceptors for parts.”

The three of us began to walk briskly toward where the mechanic worked, accompanied by two other technicians, but the noise of active repulsorlifts drew our attention back toward the entrance. Two Ministry-class shuttles entered the bay in quick succession, followed by a large cargo carrier that had to have come from Battleaxe. Once the shuttles had touched down, their ramps descended and two squads each of Republic Army troopers spilled out and began securing the bay, covering the handful of crewers who were present with blaster rifles. An Army major in red, blue and gold officer's battle armor and clamshell helmet strode purposefully toward us, coming to attention and snapping off a crisp salute. “Captain Reyolé, I presume?” he asked smartly.

“At ease,” I replied, returning the gesture. “What's going on here, Major...?”

“Ethan Decamp, ma'am,” he answered, relaxing slightly. “Captain Tethet sends his regards. My men and I are to provide security and additional support while the engineers and techs offload cargo and assist in repairs.”

“That's lieutenants' work,” I said, cocking an eye at the Army officer. “Is Tethet that bothered by what we're doing here?”

“Not at all, ma'am,” Decamp replied, a hint of pride in his voice. “I requested this assignment, in fact; I'd served aboard Wrangler during the last war, and wanted to make sure the old girl got back in action as soon as possible.”

“Well, that's good to know,” I said, gesturing the man to join us. “Are any of your people handy with a hydrospanner?”

“Absolutely,” the major replied, gesturing toward the nearest squad. As he did so, I noticed for the first time that every one of them wore toolbelts over their armor in addition to their sidearms. “We worked this out on the trip over. My security detail are good enough at mending conduits, restoring structural integrity, and installing replacement gear. But we're not trained techs, so we brought along some of the best specialists from our engineering section to assist in major repairs. We'll coordinate our efforts with Wrangler's own crew, hopefully between all of us we can get her up to speed in time for departure, but we're prepared to stay aboard if need be.” He turned back toward his platoon. “Alright, let's get to it!” he called, waving his hand in an overhead circle.

The security men immediately slung their rifles and began unlimbering tools as the cargo transport's hatches opened and the promised engineers debarked, dragging repulsor sleds full of parts and equipment behind them. Several of the troopers went inside, coming back out with yet more gear, and I turned back toward where the chief mechanic stood, gazing transfixed at the panorama of humanity as the newcomers rushed off to do whatever it was that needed to be done. After several more runs, the security men who stayed behind had the cargo transport emptied, and all three ships promptly lifted off, probably heading back to Battleaxe.

“If you'll excuse me, Captain,” Major Decamp said after the transports had left, “I need to attend to my people. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything.” We exchanged salutes and the officer departed, leaving Silas and I alone with the ex-Sith officer and mechanics.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

Over the course of the next two hours, we were able to figure out how to apply the slave circuitry to the spaceworthy fighters and had begun the process of converting them. The only hitch was that Wrangler didn't have enough explosives to do the job, but this proved to be a temporary setback. The shuttles and cargo transport from Battleaxe had continued to ferry over men and matériel, so that the docking bay became a hive of activity with techs and soldiers alike running back and forth. After a quick conversation with Major Decamp, I was able to secure enough baradium from Battleaxe to make each interceptor into a flying bomb that would impact its target with the force of several capital ship-grade proton torpedoes. As an extra precaution against a possible change of heart, I borrowed one of the squads of Army troopers to carry out the actual installation of the explosives.

Chief Ato Gerrus was friendly enough, though he was still shaken up over what had happened in the past month. He seemed eager to be able to get rid of the interceptors he'd been charged with maintaining, claiming that they were “poorly-designed rattletraps” that looked like they were “dreamed up by a blind Verpine with a sick sense of humor. I'd give just about anything to work on Aureks again.”

Once we had completed converting twenty-one of the craft into drones, keeping another spaceworthy example intact for examination at a later date, I had Silas imprint them all with a single command override code, so that only he would have control over their flight systems and detonators. With our work in the hangar bay complete, Lieutenant Dunnigal escorted us to the main bridge. Though I wouldn't admit it to anyone else, I was glad to get out of there, as the Force within had felt greasy and corrupted. As we walked the corridors, we passed knots of crewers and soldiers hard at work; most wore Sith uniforms, but enough were in Republic colors to reassure me that this was in fact a joint venture. Finally, after a quarter hour of walking, we arrived at the command deck.

“This was where it all started,” Dunnigal said, shaking his head dolefully and pointing to a series of scorch marks and a ruined computer console. “Terep killed our helmsman for not having retreated fast enough, he used some kind of Sith power that sent electricity streaming into the poor kid.” The lieutenant then gestured to where the command chair should have been. “He then ripped his seat from its mountings and hurled it at a bridge guard, whose head was crushed flat. After that, it only got worse.”

“It's alright, Lieutenant,” I said, again placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We're here to help, if you're willing to help us.”

“Anything, Captain,” he replied with a sigh. “Anything to get away from the fear...”

“We need to gain access to your ship's main computer,” I said. “Can you get us in?”

“Commander Farfax has the codes, but he left our computer unlocked when we transferred over.” Dunnigal pointed to an intact console in the starboard crew pit. “You can access it from there.”

I nodded to Silas, who jumped the two meters between the command walkway and the crew pit. Placing a hand on my lightsaber, I watched as the Bothan brought the terminal to life and began sifting through records and files. Dunnigal seemed not to notice as he paced the bridge, but I could read in his aura that he was still haunted by memories of this place. I didn't blame him for such feelings, but it cast doubts in my mind as to whether or not he'd be fit for duty in time for the coming mission. Five minutes later, however, the man's discomfiture was driven temporarily from my mind as Silas looked up at me, his face dull with shock. “What is it?” I asked, a tremor of unease shooting through me.

“It's...horrible...” was all the Bothan could say. I jumped into the pit to join him, landing catlike beside the console, and looked at the holographic log that he'd brought up.

“But it confirms their story,” I whispered. “We need to get this back to Vibrosword so the boarding party can see it. They need to know what they might be up against later on.”

“Yes, Captain,” the intelligence officer replied, taking out his comlink and attaching it to the console's data access port. “Downloading log now...sending...and they have it. I've included a short text message to Lieutenant Ibratu'na.”

“Good work. Now, let's test your codes against this ship, maybe see if we can improve them.”

“I was just about to suggest that, Captain,” Silas replied, smiling back up at me.

With a satisfied nod, I relaxed into the Force and performed a flying backflip up to the command walkway, landing in a crouch as Dunnigal turned back toward me. He looked suddenly horrified, but pulled himself together a moment later. “Sorry about that,” I said, standing up.

“You really are a Jedi...” he said dully.

“I am,” I replied. “Still a Marine, though, in case you were curious.”

“I...” he began, paused to gulp in a breath, then began again. “I...don't know how to explain this...but it's a good thing they didn't detect you as being Force-sensitive...once we'd begun the second war...”

“What do you mean?” I inquired gently. “Secar, if you know something...something that could help the Republic...”

“I'll...try and explain,” he replied, correctly guessing my meaning. “It started after we'd left for the Unknown Regions in the wake of the victory at Malachor. Troopers, crewers, and officers would just...disappear. An officer sent by Revan, Malak, or one of his people would arrive on board, and after they leave, suddenly we're two or three hands short. No one was immune, and the selections seemed to be at random, across all departments. They say that if you got picked...there was no refusal.”

“Picked for what?” I asked patiently, taking the officer's hand and pouring reassuring feelings into him through the Force.

“None of us were ever told,” he said wearily. “But every time it happened...it was as if someone had reached into your body and extracted a few cells...we felt violated, somehow. The ones they took were some of our most intuitive, the ones who seemed to 'get' things more easily and readily than everyone else.” His sense blazed with sudden understanding. “I think...I think they were culling us for Force-sensitives! I can't be sure, but it's the only explanation that makes sense!”

I didn't want to give serious consideration to what the lieutenant was saying, but even as he said it, I knew it to be true. This entire warship stank of the dark side, and it was a miracle that Farfax and Dunnigal had had the wherewithal to rise above their circumstances and lead the remnants of the crew to their present situation. Come to think of it, Laera, I thought to myself, it's a good thing that you got rid of your own emotional baggage, too... On a hunch, I began to delve deeper into the younger officer's aura, probing his sense in the Force; it didn't take long to confirm what I'd begun to suspect.

“You are right, and you would have been next,” I said in hushed tones, and Dunnigal became white as a sheet. “The Force is strong within you, and they would have twisted it, made you into a mockery of yourself. You and Commnander Farfax are to be commended for doing what you did and returning to the Republic and the light.”

I drew out my comlink and flipped it to Vibrosword's command frequency. “Admiral Dodonna, please.”

“Yes, Captain Reyolé, what is it?” the fleet commander's voice asked a minute later.

“Admiral, I'm on the bridge of Wrangler, and have accessed their main computer.”

“What have you found? Do they check out?”

“Affirmative, they check out alright,” I replied gravely. “Is Master Kavar with you?”

“One moment...yes, here he is.”

“Master...this ship absolutely reeks of darkness. We need to get these people back into Republic uniforms as soon as possible. We've got one, possibly two Force-sensitives among the crew, and they're going to need our help.”

“I'll be over with a cargo of spare uniforms right away,” the Jedi Master's concerned voice replied. “And we'll send for spares from the other warships as well.”

“Thank you, Master. Also, could you bring Commander Farfax with you?”

“Of course.”

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

Having accomplished everything we'd set out to do aboard Wrangler, Silas and I, along with Lieutenant Dunnigal, made our way back to the main docking bay to meet Master Kavar's shuttle. By the time we got there, roughly five hours had passed since both Interdictor-cruisers had arrived in-system, half the time Admiral Dodonna had set for the fleet's departure for Ord Mantell and the fate of the Republic. The Jedi Master wasn't long in arriving, as the fleet had repositioned itself around the two larger warships, Vibrosword taking up station between and slightly above the cruisers on the plane of the ecliptic, with a vanguard of Hammerhead cruisers and Foray-class frigates surrounding this main body in a hemispherical formation. As the shuttle touched down, I caught sight of Major Decamp, who was supervising the replacement of the blown panel near the magcon shield, and beckoned for him to join us.

“How are things looking?” I asked briskly as Master Kavar approached to within earshot.

“We're well on track,” the major replied proudly. “Most of the damage is superficial; the biggest problem seems to be an unstart in one of the main sublight drive cores, but we should have that taken care of within the hour. On the other hand, we're still bringing crewers and gunners over to fill in the gaps so she can fight alongside us. Whatever happened here, it took a lot of the original crew with it.”

A note of concern had begun to creep into Decamp's voice. “How many are fit for duty?” I asked.

“Only about twenty-five hundred, ma'am, which is enough for basic interstellar operations, but not for a fighting ship.” The major shook his head with dismay. “Among the troopers...well, assuming the wounded recover fully, we're looking at maybe a battalion's worth.”

My heart skipped a beat&mdash;no wonder the ship smelled so badly of mayhem and death. In the chaos that had erupted in the wake of Terep's mental breakdown, fully five thousand lives had been lost aboard Wrangler in the three weeks that followed. “What is your sense of the situation?” Master Kavar inquired as he and Commander Farfax joined the discussion.

“I don't have your abilities in the Force, sir, but from what I and my people have heard, they really want to repent,” Decamp replied. “If I had to guess, most of the casualties were those who joined Darth Revan after the war began, because I ran into a few old shipmates who had a lot on their minds. They're shaken, but they were sure glad to see a familiar face after all this time.”

“What I've brought with me should help,” Master Kavar said, gesturing back to his shuttle. “I've got about three hundred spare Republic uniforms here&mdash;” The Jedi Master paused as another shuttle arrived and landed beside his own, then plowed on without missing a beat. “&mdash;and unless I'm much mistaken, that's another five hundred from Rapier. We'll have enough for everybody within the hour, can you handle distribution?”

“Yes sir, we can handle that,” the Army officer replied, snapping to attention.

“Good. Kindly see to it.”

“Right away, sir!”

As the major left to carry out his orders, Master Kavar, Silas and myself walked off to a nearby briefing room with Commander Farfax and Lieutenant Dunnigal. “You should probably get back to Vibrosword, Mr. Dan'kre,” I said, touching his shoulder to make sure he knew I wasn't blowing him off. “I'll see you soon, and we can go over what we downloaded with the platoon then.”

“Of course, ma'am,” he replied. “I'll help offload the uniforms from Master Kavar's shuttle, then accompany it back to the ship.”

He left, and I entered the briefing room, where the two ex-Sith officers had taken seats opposite the Jedi Master at a round table that normally seated fifteen. Without uttering a word, I approached the commander, sat next to him, and read his aura, confirming that he was Force-sensitive as well; both of them, were in fact, definitely strong enough in their connection to merit training. I looked from one officer to the next, then nodded to Master Kavar. “Yes, he is too,” I said simply.

Dunnigal shuddered visibly, but Farfax only shrugged. “I'm what, exactly?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“You're...you've got the Force, too,” Dunnigal supplied. “Captain Reyolé, she...I guess she 'read' me somehow...she's actually a Jedi, too.”

“So...they would have taken us, wouldn't they?” the commander asked his second, who nodded. “Captain, Master...I cannot thank you enough for saving us from them! They...I...”

“It's alright, you are both safe with us,” Kavar said, his tone gentle and reassuring. “Are you fit for duty? Do you think you can fight this ship within, say, ten hours' time?”

“No,” Dunnigal replied automatically. “Maybe if I got away from this ship for a while, I could assume a post on some other vessel...but not here, not now.”

“I could probably serve,” Commander Farfax said after gathering himself for a moment. “But I'm not qualified to captain Wrangler, even temporarily. I'd relieve myself of duty if we weren't about to go into battle like you say.”

Master Kavar rose from his seat, accessed a holocomm device, and within a few moments, a three-quarter size image of a Quarren in a Republic Navy captain's uniform appeared before us. “Captain Tethel, we'll need a command crew over here as soon as you can assemble one,” he said.

“Of course, Master Kavar,” Battleaxe's commanding officer replied. “I'll have my executive officer lead a detail to accompany our next shipment of crewers and supplies, which should be leaving in half an hour.”

“Excellent, Captain, you have our thanks. Kavar out.”

The holographic captain gave a bow before its image winked out, and the Jedi Master turned back to the two officers. “I think it best that you return to Vibrosword along with Captain Reyolé and myself. When we arrive, we can get you settled in and you can have some rest while repairs continue here. After that, whenever you feel up to it, you can join us on the bridge for the battle to come.”

“On behalf of my crew, I thank you,” Farfax replied, standing and shaking the Jedi Master's hand. “You've saved us from a fate worse than death.”

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

An hour later, having made the short trip back to the flagship and settled the two ex-Sith officers into their quarters, providing them with appropriate uniforms, Master Kavar and I were heading up to the bridge to brief Admiral Dodonna. “You did exceptionally well, Laera,” he said as we walked. “Reaching out to them like that, you probably saved them from becoming Dark Jedi.”

“No, Master, they saved themselves,” I replied, not wanting to take credit I didn't deserve. “It's a miracle, actually, that in the midst of so much chaos and death, they rediscovered their true selves after having forgotten for so long. What's even more amazing is how they followed up on that, and brought us an important additional weapon in the battle to come.”

“I'm glad to hear you say that,” the Jedi Master replied. “Did you learn anything else from them?”

I nodded grimly. “I did. Commander Farfax wasn't exaggerating about 'a fate worse than death.' Lieutenant Dunnigal told me about a pogrom that Darth Revan seems to have initiated throughout his empire. It appears that they, or their agents, periodically cull their fleets and armies, looking for Force-sensitives, and pulling them from the ranks and 'disappearing' them.”

“This news is most disturbing indeed,” Kavar replied. “It also correlates with reports we've received from volunteer Jedi watchers.”

“We have watchers now?” I said, cocking a brow at the Jedi Master.

“Aside from cooperation with the Republic, the Jedi Order has always relied upon outside support to help us achieve our overall goals,” he replied quite calmly. “Throughout our history, Knights and Masters have raised their own militia forces to help them keep the peace, or else to combat injustice, either on their own homeworlds or throughout the galaxy. In times of great crisis, we have sometimes hired those who are willing to track Jedi, to make sure they stay on the path of the light, to report on their activities but not to interfere. Revan and Malak knew of this, and they may even have had someone watching you. It makes sense that they've continued this practice to identify Force-potentials and other targets for conversion.”

“You mean, they're not just out to kill us?” I asked, knowing the answer even as I finished the question.

“No, Laera. This is as much a war of conversion as it is one of conquest, and it has been that way since the first battles. We've lost as many Jedi to the teachings of the Sith as we have to their lightsabers.”

As we entered the admiral's wardroom, I knew that I had been right to wonder, back on Dantooine, what fate might have awaited me had I not died at Onderon. Now that I knew what would have happened, now that I finally had my answer, I was able to rest easier in the company I now kept as a Jedi Knight.