The Last Full Measure/Chapter One

The Last Full Measure

Chapter One

“Brace for impact!”

The shout roused me from sleep with all the subtlety of a charging reek, and I nearly cracked my head on the storage compartment over my bunk as I lurched toward an upright position. It was only after looking around to find that my quarters were in perfect order did I realize that the alert hadn't come from any sentient being or through any comm system.

Kriffing visions, I muttered to myself as I regained my bearings. The last several nights had been sprinkled liberally with these sendings, interrupting my sleep and leaving me in a consistently foul mood, though I tried not to let it show. Rubbing my forehead with my left hand as I checked the chronometer with my right, I pondered once again the possible import of these Force visions. Every one of them had been slightly different, but they all revolved around a central theme: the undertaking of a desperate mission designed to buy time for the Republic to stabilize in the face of the continued Sith onslaught. Each had also involved an unexpected reversal of some sort, but as with the circumstances, the specifics were always different, and it was never clear if these twists were blessings or curses.

Blowing a sigh, I decided against trying to continue sleeping; if worse came to worst, I could still call upon the Force to keep me awake and aware. My ruminations did nothing to shed any light on the current conundrum, however, so, after slipping into my battle dress uniform, tucking my sidearm into its holster and clipping my lightsaber to its belt hook, I left the small room. Working my way through the corridors and companionways of the massive Centurion-class battlecruiser at a brisk trot, I soon arrived at the physical training area that was shared by Stalwart Defender's compliment of Army troopers and Marines.

It had been two years since the attack on Iridonia, and despite the astonishing success of the counteroffensive that had resulted from the incredible victory there, the Republic as a whole was faring worse than ever. Darth Revan's armadas seemed to be limitless. Decimate an attacking Sith fleet in a desperate holding action, and a new, far stronger one would show up a week later; wipe out a Sith garrison holding an outpost world, and within two days, they'd send an overwhelming force to take it back. Everyone from the ensigns fresh from the academy to the top echelons at High Command were flummoxed, and even the Jedi High Council was unable to offer any tangible insight. If something was not done to curtail this endless stream of war matériel&mdash;and soon&mdash;then it seemed to be only a matter of time until the Republic was overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

And that didn't even account for Revan's tactical and strategic genius. I'd gotten thoroughly acquainted with his skill in both realms during the conflict with the Mandalorians. The man was an absolute marvel in the way he worked, always keeping three steps ahead of his enemies, never squandering soldiers and resources if he could help it, and continuously shifting the way he waged war. As part of his reforms after he had assumed command of the Republic forces combating the Mandalorians, he had stripped all defenses from worlds that were not worth holding, using them to fortify the ones that were valuable, so as to make any attack virtually suicidal, all the while keeping up a constant reserve that could be used to strike crushing counterblows. Now, as he turned his guns and the legions at his command against those he had once served, his doctrine had shifted yet again.

As the fight against the Sith had intensified in the wake of the Iridonia-Lannik Campaign (as we called that first counteroffensive amongst ourselves), it had become clear, to me at least, what Revan's overall strategy was. He would take great pains to preserve the military-industrial complexes of worlds he had set out to conquer, and in other cases, he would bypass completely planets that relied on other sorts of economies, regardless of whether or not they were defended or posed a threat to the Empire's flanks. At the same time, he would unleash Darth Malak, his pet nek, to wage campaigns of terror-bombing, as had been the case at Telos IV, or else to engage in brutal attacks on random planets beyond the current planes of contention. Perhaps most disturbing of all were the assassinations, some of which he carried out himself, of public figureheads. A year ago, the Dark Lord had personally hunted down and slaughtered Yusanis, the politically powerful Republic representative of the Echani people, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that the two had fought against the Mandalorians together. All of this, in my mind, added up to one thing: Revan wanted, above all else, to preserve the status quo of the galaxy even as he set out to conquer it.

For the half-hour I spent in morning exercises, I tried to forget the war, if only for a few moments. There were some positives, after all: in the wake of the Iridonian liberation and resulting victory at Rodia, the High Council had seen fit to bestow upon me the rank of Jedi Knight; young Bastila Shan, flitting about the battleplanes aboard the Endar Spire, was using her mastery of Battle Meditation to keep the Republic in the fight; and we of the Third Battalion had managed to do some kicking back of our own. At this juncture in time, Stalwart Defender and the three Hammerhead-class cruisers of her task force, Delta Dagger, Horseshoe, and Kickboxer, were heading back to Kuat for repairs and replenishment after several months on the front lines, and the rumor mill was grinding out choice tidbits relating to possible planetside liberty for the crew as well as the task force's soldiery. According to the schedule I'd been given, we would be dropping out of hyperspace at the edge of the system sometime today, and I was looking forward to stretching my legs in Kuat City along with the officers and troopers under my command.

As I was finishing up my routine and feeling somewhat better for it, Commander Thedus Bimm, also clad in BDUs, walked into the exercise room. Catching sight of me, his blue-green speckled aura followed him as he strode toward where I was finishing up the last of my Shien practice katas. “Remind me never to come at you with a vibroblade,” he smirked.

Snapping my weapon back onto its belt hook, I ran a hand through my auburn hair. I had let grow out to nearly waist-length; braiding it before battle had become almost a ritual for me, allowing me to bring my focus fully onto the task to come. “You wouldn't get within two meters,” I retorted mildly, patting Bimm's shoulder. “So, what's the surprise?”

“You know, ever since you got back from Coruscant after the fight at Rodia, it's been impossible to keep anything away from you,” he replied irritably, drawing a datapad from a pants pocket. “Yeah, I've got news. Fresh byte over the HoloNet from our last course correction.”

I took the device from him, reading the snippet he had keyed up for me. As I did so, a familiar tingling sensation began to tickle at the base of my skull, and I began shaking my head in consternation. “Well, that solves one mystery,” I remarked under my breath.

“And that cryptic thing you've been doing, that's not helping my sanity either,” Bimm grumbled.

“You've never been sane, Mr. Bimm,” I shot back with a roguish grin.

“Master Jedi, you wound me,” he replied, deadpan.

“Tell it to the corpsman,” I snorted, shoving the datapad into the younger officer's chest. He took it with a whuff, clutching at it and staggering back as though I'd punched him full-Force. That drew a laugh out of both of us.

“So, what's this mystery you spoke of,” he asked as we exited the facility and headed for the Marine officer's mess.

“Just another Jedi thing,” I dodged, knowing that Bimm would recognize it as such.

“You don't have a problem with me taking over the battalion while you're gone?” he asked, getting down to business. Even without the Force, I could feel his anxiety and concern, and it humbled me. He and I both cared a great deal about the men and women under our respective commands, but I knew he was ready for the burden. Stepping in front of him as we passed a less-traveled corridor, I stopped him with a raised hand.

“Thedus, we've been through all nine Corellian hells together, and we're both still in it,” I said warmly, again putting a hand on his shoulder as I looked him square in the eye. “There is no one in this unit that I trust more than you, particularly to lead it.”

“Thanks, Captain,” he replied, a tremulous smile forming on his dark visage.

“You've earned it,” I assured him. “Now, let's get something to eat before the ensigns clean us out again.”

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

One of the first things that a new Marine learns when she is assigned to a line unit is how to manage her belongings so that she is able to relocate on little more than a few minutes' notice. Packing away one's emotional ties, however...that's something a person never truly masters. By the time Rear Admiral Kedlis Hetton brought his task force out of hyperspace on approach to the Kuat Drive Yards outer markers, I had already been packed and ready to go for nearly half a day. I had spent the rest of that time filling out datawork in preparation for the temporary change of command for Third Battalion, logging the appropriate names and dates, as well as my own recommendations for who should do what in the meantime. Chek Nessai, the Corellian leading Dorn Company, who had been promoted to full Commander along with Thedus Bimm, was tapped to take over as battalion executive officer. I'd never had an XO of my own while in command, but that had been a rare exception forced on me by the shortage of qualified officers in the first days of the war.

Meanwhile, I had a shuttle to catch.

Less than five minutes after Stalwart Defender reverted to realspace, it was met by a Ministry-class orbital shuttle, which would take me from the battlecruiser to the Foray-class frigate Zapdash. The small, in-system couriers, used all over the Republic, were moderately well-appointed, which was more than I could say for the small warship I was to board after docking. I'd had the unfortunate privilege of traveling on such vessels before, and had regretted the journey every time. Though they could theoretically haul upwards of five hundred passengers, there's a good reason why their crew is only ever around sixty. Small and cramped, their biggest asset was their ability to land on the surface of a world, as well as their high sublight acceleration, speed, and maneuverability&mdash;oh, and they're also cheap to mass-produce. This last quality was evident in every bulkhead, every compartment and access port, and I did not look forward to spending the long trip to Tython in such close quarters.

“Atten-SHUN!”

As I entered the hangar bay, clad in my dress reds with my duffel over my left shoulder, the shouted order from the battalion sergeant major brought everyone upright with parade-ground precision. The entire unit had turned out for the formal ceremony in which command would be transferred, however temporary that might be. It was heartening to see them all gathered, veterans and replacements alike, to give their respects to the woman who had led them into battle time and time again. As I strode into the vast hangar toward the shuttle, down a cordon flanked on each side by Marines, I kept my right hand up in formal salute in answer to the salutes of my subordinates, my comrades-in-arms, my friends. It was a difficult thing to do, leaving them behind, but it had to be done. Is this how you felt when you left, Vima? I asked the Force. Is this how they showed their respect when you departed the old Fleet, when you returned to the Republic to face the judgment of the Council?

After what seemed like an ageless walk, I reached the head of the assembly, which was cast in the shadow of the shuttle's aft end, its wings folded up as if it, too, were offering salute. The Marines in the hanger turned at that point to face the proceedings, the unanimous shuffling of their feet echoing throughout the vast bay. “I relieve you of your post, Captain Reyolé,” Bimm said, his tone professional as he uttered the formal greeting.

“I stand relieved, Mr. Bimm,” I replied in formal response. “May the Force be with you and those you command.”

After a final exchange of salutes, Thedus Bimm, my friend and compatriot, turned aside. Though my heart ached with the departure, I walked up the shuttle's ramp with my head held high.

“Battalion, dis-MISSED!”

The last thing I heard before the ramp sealed shut was the sound of three thousand booted feet marching back to their owners' normal duties.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

Tython, or so I've been told, is a beautiful planet, filled with lush forests and scenic mountain views. I knew that it was considered a sacred world by the Jedi Order; it was, in fact, where the Force had first been discovered some twenty-five thousand years ago, give or take a couple of millennia. But I wasn't going to be able to see it for myself, which was a pity considering how I got there. The three-day trip from Kuat had not been at all pleasant. Between the close quarters aboard Zapdash, the fact that I knew no one aboard the warship, and the uncertainty that surrounded the necessity of incurring the not inconsiderable expense of drawing me this far into the Deep Core, I had been run ragged trying to keep my head on straight. As if that wasn't enough, the persistent flickers of Force visions had not abated with the change of vessel and direction.

As the small frigate dropped out of hyperspace over the planet's terminator line that morning, I was summoned to the bridge, where Zapdash's captain, Lieutenant Commander Quitas Nell, had me brought to the forward viewport to stand alongside her. “Captain Reyolé, it's good to see you,” the red-haired woman nodded as I stood at ease.

“Captain Nell,” I acknowledged, keeping my discomfort well-hidden. She was competent, as frigate commanders went, smart and aggressive, but with little regard for groundside operations. I had figured out early on that she only respected me for my rank and my lightsaber, but that was the least of my worries as far as the trip itself went. Along with Zapdash and the rest of the Second Fleet, she had participated in the Battle of Rodia and the resulting counteroffensive, only to be wounded at Lannik when the vessel took a bad hit to the forward section.

“I wanted to let you know that we'll be rendezvousing with a small fleet gathered on Tython's other side,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on the planet visible through the transparisteel viewport. “I don't exactly know what's going on myself, but a shuttle will meet us there to transfer you to the flagship while Zapdash joins up with the flotilla.”

“What's our ETA?” I asked, arching a brow at the Navy woman. If it helps, lady, I have no idea either.

“Fifteen Standard minutes, give or take,” she replied.

“Thanks for the information,” I said curtly. We exchanged halfhearted salutes, and I beat a swift retreat back to my quarters to pack once again.

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

True to her word, within a quarter hour I was back in my dress uniform and aboard another shuttlepod, bound for the leading echelon of Hammerhead-class cruisers. Pestering the young junior lieutenant at the helm for a sensor readout, I learned that this fleet of cruisers and Foray-class frigates, barely fifteen ships in all, was to be backed up by no heavy cruisers or ships-of-the-line, to say nothing of any starfighter carriers. Whatever they're up to, they don't intend to stick around for a slugging match, I thought ruefully to myself as the pilot conducted his approach toward the small hanger bay of the lead cruiser. “Shuttlepod Krill Aurek Three Niner Seven to Vibrosword Control, requesting docking clearance,” the pilot muttered into the comm.

“Vibrosword Control reads,” replied a bored voice whose accented Basic reminded me of a Mon Calamari. “Please transmit authentication code.”

“Transmitting now, Vibrosword,” the pilot responded, flipping a switch on the comm board. This action prompted a scowl from me as I pondered the meaning of such a measure. Something's not right here, I mused. The only time we ever bother with code clearances is in preparation for...

And then it hit me. Once again, I'd been suckered into playing by the Force's rules which, I supposed, was inevitable now that I was in effect its servant. After having spent nearly four years among the Jedi and their ways, the Force had become like a second skin to me, like a third eye, and I couldn't imagine having lived without it. Its strength had become my own, and I had learned how to call upon it in times of greatest need, of most pressing urgency, to prevent looming crises from turning into total catastrophes, or else to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, on so many occasions throughout this long, exhausting war. If the price of such feats was occasionally becoming subservient to the whims of this highest form of energy, then so be it, whatever got the job done with the most number of friendlies left over.

As I sat there, lost in thought, I missed the comm message that validated our codes, only coming back to myself as the shuttlepod snaked its way through the magnetic containment shield of Vibrosword's small hangar deck. The pilot set the pod down smoothly, and soon the entrance ramp extended amidst the hissing of outgassing and the noises of a busy docking bay. “We're here, ma'am,” the lieutenant announced unnecessarily.

“Thank you,” I replied, rising from the passenger seat and making my way down the gangway. It began to retract almost immediately after my feet met the deck; within moments, the short-ranged, oblong craft was already backing out through the warship's magcon shield. Not bothering to spare the harried pilot a second glance as he sent his pod into a hasty retreat, I marched briskly toward a mixed bag of Jedi and Republic officers who were, like myself, dressed in their formal finest, which I regarded as slight overkill.

“Laera, it's good to see you again,” said a familiar voice as I approached. Jedi Master Kavar, detaching himself from the small group, extended his hand toward me, which I took. “We're glad you could make it out here on such short notice.”

“If there's one thing I've learned, Master, it's that the Republic can get anything done when it sets its mind to it,” I replied, nodding toward the techs and mechanics working throughout the hangar bay. “How has the war been treating you?”

“Not very kindly, I'm afraid,” Kavar replied with a slight frown. “We've been losing far more often than we've been winning, but this you already know. Perhaps we should gather someplace more private, where we can discuss why we brought you out here.”

&mdash; &mdash; &mdash;

In a room not all that dissimilar to the one in which I had recruited Commander Onasi for the scouting trip to Iridonia two years prior, the officers and Jedi gathered. Kavar took up station at the head of the room next to the holoprojector as I took an available chair fairly close by, and began introducing those gathered. “It's been a long war,” he began. “Some of us may already know each other, while others may have only met on occasion.

“This is Laera Reyolé, Jedi Knight and Captain in the Republic Marines,” he said, gesturing toward me. “She is a highly-experienced and effective ground commander; it was her planning and execution of the Iridonian liberation that led to the Iridonia-Lannik Campaign.” He then gestured toward a Bothan sitting near the back that I only then recognized. “Lieutenant Silas Dan'kre was responsible for finding the intel on the Rodia operation; he has since been transferred to Republic Intelligence's slicer-warfare division.” Kavar then pointed to the older, dark flaxen-haired woman in Navy admiral's grays who stood next to him. “Vice-Admiral Forn Dodonna is our fleet commander. She brings considerable experience to the table, having fought against the Mandalorians as a cruiser captain, as well as a keen tactical mind.” The Jedi Master then pointed out the young Padawan who sat next to Dan'kre, and I recalled having met with her after the victory at Iridonia, along with her Master. “Bastila Shan, I'm sure, needs no introduction,” Kavar continued. “Her mastery of battle meditation is in large part responsible for the success of our last counteroffensive, and other victories since.”

The Jedi Master continued to introduce the rest of the officers and Jedi, the former a litany of the fleet's cruiser and frigate captains, along with Dodonna's flag captain, who commanded Vibrosword. “Now, as to the reason why we've gathered you here today,” Kavar said once the appropriate acknowledgments had been concluded. “After much deliberation, Republic High Command and the Jedi High Council have jointly agreed upon a mission that will, the Force willing, blunt the onslaught of the Sith by taking advantage of one of their primary weaknesses.

“We are going to capture Darth Revan...”