Omega Sqadron Black Knights
Chapter 4

Lori Enilra walked down the corridor, hands in her pockets. There were two figures standing in the open doorway to the rec area, watching whatever was going on inside. As she got close enough she recognised Maggs Ronnoc and Lieutenant Catterin Poom-Bar, head of Omega’s Supply and Rescue Section. They turned as she approached, Ronnoc giving her a vague smile.

"Erm," Poom-Bar began, "We sort of heard from one of the engineers that the pilots were the only ones left drowning their sorrows…"

"So we thought we’d come down to see if they needed any help…"

"You mean you came down to see if they needed carried back to their quarters!" the Flight accused. They nodded and Lori grinned, admitting, "Me too."

She looked past them and shook her head, looking at the four pilots sitting at the table in the far corner of the rec room. Shei Redav, of the four, looked the most sober. There again Lori had never actually seen a drunk Tridactrell, so she had no idea how bad she was. Lainy Kal’Ten was having to concentrate very hard to talk, but was at least speaking in intelligent syllables. Kaz Hawkspar nodded every now and then in the vague pretence of listening to what Lainy was telling her. Xen Edraa had long since given up the fight to stay awake and was slumped against Lainy’s shoulder.

Not that she could fault them. They had just lain to rest the memories of the Knights who had died defending the Richlo’s Rest and the Chief Engineer who had died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Great minds think alike?" a voice asked softly from behind them.

They turned, and Aryes Drayke returned the Flight’s quick smile. "Redav hasn’t been assigned a team yet," he explained, "and Lainy’s lot were in no fit state to put themselves to bed, let alone their pilot." He sighed, "An Engineer’s work is never done…"

"Not every engineer…" Lori said, turning back and pulling a face, "It was never like this with Blue Wing! They were always so predictable!"

"I could arrange a transfer back…" Poom-Bar began wickedly, "If you really wanted?"

Enilra grinned at her, "Not on your life! And with your permission…" She didn’t wait for a reply, marching into the rec room and striding across to the table.

Redav gave her a not-quite sober smile. Kal’Ten blinked once or twice then grinned. Hawkspar looked up and attempted, "Hi!"

"All right, Ladies!" Enilra ordered, "Bar closed an hour ago. Don’t you have beds to go to?" Kaz nodded, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet. Lainy looked forlornly back down into her empty glass. Enilra sighed again, shaking her head.

"Lainy’s quarters are right next to mine," Shei told her, "I will ensure that she reaches there safely."

Lori shook her head at her, "That’s okay, Lieutenant, we’ve got it covered. Lieutenant Poom-Bar here is going to make sure that you both make it back. And Lieutenant Ronnoc and I will help Lieutenant Edraa. Chief, I’ll leave the Commander in your capable hands."

Ary took hold of Hawkspar’s arm, pulling her gently towards the door. Then realised that she wasn’t going to move until she saw that Xen was okay. So they stood for a moment watching the Flight and Ronnoc carry Xen towards the door, following Shei and Lainy as they disappeared out of the door with the Supply.

Finally happy, Hawkspar started walking after them. Gently he guided her in the opposite direction at the door when she went to follow Xen, telling her, "The Flight’s got it covered, Boss."

"Oh…" She looked at him, "Okay…" They walked a few more meters in silence, then she announced, quietly and carefully, "I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I hate this feeling when I’ve drunk too much."

Ary smiled, "I know. You told me that last time as well…"

"Did I?" She thought for a moment, "Don’t remember. Must have drunk too much." She laughed at her own joke then dropped into silence again. The lift doors opened and he guided her in, ordering, "Deck Three."

As the lift began to move she told him softly, "I thought I’d lost her too."

Ary looked at her, frowning, "Who?"

"Lainy… when I saw the Imperial… holding the blaster…" She took a deep breath, "I thought I’d lost her. I thought I’d lost them all…"

Ary said nothing, knowing that there was nothing he could say, knowing that even this drunk she wouldn’t have talked like this to anyone else… except maybe Notrahw. "I don’t remember him," she was continuing, "Lainy told me who he was… but I don’t remember him…" The lift stopped, the doors opening and Ary pulled her gently into the corridor, walking her along towards the door of her quarters.

"When I saw that grin on his face… I thought I’d lost everyone… She was just standing there, looking at him…" She shook her head, "Don’t remember him. He was on Coruscant… Should remember him."

"You will!" Ary assured her, "You’ll probably wake up at oh five hundred with a thumping hangover and a sudden flash of inspiration!"

She stopped suddenly, "Chief, go check on her…"

"Once you’re safely back in your own quarters," he told her.

"You promise?"

He sighed in exasperation, shaking his head, "I promise."

She started walking down the corridor again. "His mother betrayed them, Ary. Her whole family was killed…" She frowned, "Maybe we should have waited before we moved… But we thought there was time… And Mothma was too important…" She closed her eyes, staggering slightly against the wall. He steadied her then guided her on down the corridor. "You’ll check on her?" she asked again.

"I’ll check on her, Commander."

She nodded, then shook her head slightly, "She’s not as brave as she makes out… But we thought there was time…"

They reached her quarters, the door sliding open as she slapped at the lock. She pushed him away as he tried to come through the door with her, "I’m fine, Chief. Go check Lainy." She stepped unsteadily into the room, the door sliding shut behind her. He stood for a moment, looking at the closed door. Then he turned, heading for the next deck and Lainy Kal’Ten’s quarters.

~ * ~

Martellon crouched in the meditation chamber, his mind awhirl with thoughts crashing through as though a tidal wave was about to swamp his psyche. He had to calm himself. Even though calm was for weaklings, he had to try to organise his thoughts, or they would do it to him again. The one thought that would not go away was the need for revenge. He had to deal with them. They would not, could not, go unpunished for dealing him the blow that almost cost him his life.

He had to face the fact that by himself, he could not take on them all, not when they were in those be-damned tin coffins of theirs. He had to draw them out somehow. It had been all too easy to see that one simple lucky shot could have been the end of him. Even in a Super Star Destroyer, the remote chance was all it would take. He had to draw them out.

Martellon paused as he felt a familiar tug at his subconscious. The Dark Side was calling to him, pleading, cajoling, demanding that he surrender himself to his hatred, let it control his actions, let it take care of them for him. He tried to resist, knowing that to surrender meant eternal torture and suffering and disappointment as it taunted him from within his own mind by not killing them. He could feel the malevolence building within it, as it fuelled it own hatred. His was but a tiny drop in the vast galactic ocean of hatred that was The Dark Side. It’s capacity for negativity was boundless, to capitulate was to resign oneself to an eternity of madness, of mind-blowing power and insanity, from which there could be no hope of return.

The temptation of that Power was immeasurable. To be able to just reach forth and snuff them out as if they were standing in front of him, total obliteration with a single thought. His struggle with the gnawing voice came to a single thought.

Is the complete destruction of my mortal enemies with a single thought worth eternal damnation?

Fortunately for them, the answer was in the negative, for now. Martellon made a supreme effort and banished the whispering voice to the back of his mind. Enough distractions, he had plans to incubate and carry out, and the sooner the better. They most probably would expect him to be reeling from his defeat and licking his wounds, not plotting their final doom.

~ * ~

Aryes Drayke stopped outside Kal’Ten’s door, meaning to press the chime. But the door wasn’t locked, opening as he stopped in front of it. And from inside he heard the sound of muffled sobs. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should leave her alone and then thought about what Hawkspar had said. Realising now that she might have been right to have been so worried about her brilliant but irresponsible Squadron Second, he stepped across the threshold into her quarters, "Lieutenant Commander?"

She sat up abruptly, her eyes wide and terrified. Then she recognised him and flopped back onto the bed again, choking, "Go away!"

Bewildered and more than a little taken aback by the emotion he had seen in her face, he walked softly across to the bed, sitting down beside her. Unsure about how to begin, he waited for a moment then asked quietly, "Want to talk about it?"

"No! Leave me alone!"

"Lainy…"

She turned abruptly, lunging at him. He caught her wrists, holding them despite the pain that stabbed through his shoulder as she tried to fight him, screaming at him, "Get out! Leave me alone! Just get the hells out!" And then she collapsed completely, sobbing uncontrollably.

Completely out of his depth he reacted instinctively, gathering her into his arms, holding her against him as she broke her heart.

"It’s all such a mess…" she cried. "It’s all such a complete mess…"

"What is?"

She pushed herself away from him slightly, looking at him, "You. Kaz. Iayn. The whole damned squadron…" She shook her head, looking away, "I didn’t even know she was hurt! She took that blast for me and I never even realised she was hurt!"

She was like a frightened child, alone and helpless and for the first time he saw the vulnerability that Hawkspar had spoken of. The bravado was only an act, to cover all the hurt… The Commander’s words echoed in his mind, "Her whole family was killed… But we thought there was time…" He knew that she and Kal’Ten went way back and had suffered the Lieutenant Commander only because of that – and the fact that she did watch Hawkspar’s back. But there had been too many times, too many incidents that she had instigated where Hawkspar had intervened and been injured.

Only, now he realised why Hawkspar had always and would always intervene: why she always stood beside Kal’Ten no matter what happened. Now he saw that Lainy wasn’t being deliberately irresponsible… He had glimpsed the dead look behind her eyes and finally understood that the fates-may-care idiocy simply covered the fact that she didn’t really care whether she lived or died.

But Hawkspar being wounded this time had obviously scared her badly. She was blaming herself for Hawkspar’s injuries and for his - and for her Chief engineer’s death. And on top of the deaths of the other Knights, it was an incredible burden to bear.

Completely at a loss, unsure what he should do, he tried to comfort her, gently brushing the hair away from her face with his hand, "Lainy…"

She shook her head, looking back up at him, "She could have died! You could have died! Like… like… Iyan." She began to cry again and he put his arms round her, holding her head against his shoulder and rocking her gently like a child. He stayed with her as she cried herself to sleep, finding himself unreasonably scared to leave her… There was so much life in her! But he had seen the despair that lurked, too close for his own comfort, beneath the surface. She was skating on ice that was, for the moment, far too thin and he suddenly found himself wanting to be there just in case it broke beneath her.

Finally convinced that she was asleep he bent slightly, catching her legs beneath the knees and lifting them onto the bed. Intending to sleep in the chair he tried to slip his arm from beneath her. But she moaned softly, a frown sweeping across her face as she dreamt. And instead he lay down beside her, gently running his fingers through her hair.

~ * ~

Martellon tried to sleep. Unusually, the voice of the Dark Side did not interrupt: he must have been more tired for some reason this time, he decided.

However, his dreams were troubled. He found his mind wandering between the moments of his last mission. His first real failure. He had failed the Emperor, not an auspicious start.

As he slept, Martellon’s mind kept rerunning the moments of his defeat, but with strange twists, like Omega Leader had been the first X-wing to go down under a hail of fire from his TIE Interceptor. Then Kal’Ten, Omega Two, had shot his ship from the side, knocking out the systems that, in reality, the shrapnel had shattered.

Why her? Of all the people in that squadron, why did he dream that Lainy Kal’Ten was the one to shoot him? He still couldn’t fathom how she could be a pilot. She had never had any spine. She hadn’t even had the guts to go against her parents’ wishes and go off to the Imperial Academy with him.

His mind would never even accept the fact that she’d had absolutely no reason to go with him, having no ties to him at all. He had wanted her to be his… his girl. But he had never asked her, always expecting her to be able to see what he wanted, the way he could see into some other people’s minds.

She had to, she just had to.

But she didn’t. All she saw was a strange brown-haired adolescent boy, who had an unnerving, piercing stare, whom apparently had a bit of a crush on her.

Only now she had no idea what kind of crush he could put on people. One of his Master’s training exercises was for him to practice crushing rocks with his mind. He was now capable of crushing a person-sized rock into nothing more than sand. Every time he had done it, he had pictured what she would look like as he squeezed her, ever so lightly, tighter and tighter, until she was nothing more than so much sand.

As he was about to lose himself in these thoughts, he realised that he was no longer sleeping, and a strange groaning noise was intruding on his solitude. The noise was coming from outside the chamber. He emerged to find a grey-uniformed soldier collapsed on the floor, crushed to within an inch of his life. The man was groaning in agony, Martellon could see that he had broken every bone in this man’s body.

The best thing to do would be to put him out of his misery, he thought. And with not a moment’s hesitation, he reached into the soldier’s head and crushed his mind. The soldier’s face went briefly a bright red colour, and then went black as he died.

Without a further thought, Martellon returned to his meditation chamber, and considered the possibility of having some breakfast. What he didn’t considered was the possibility that the soldier might have been there for a reason…

~ * ~

Five X-wings dropped out of hyperspace, heading in towards the Mon Calamari cruiser, "Home Two, this is Rogue escort, requesting landing instructions."

"Rogue escort, Home Two, route to hanger bay five." On the side of the huge ship, approach lights blinked into existence, strobing in towards the hanger mouth.

"Roger, Home Two, we see the lights. Routing in. The transport’s right behind us…"

On cue another voice announced, "Home Two, the Valiant Heart is with you, routing in and requesting docking instructions."

"Roger that Valiant. Route towards docking bay nine, starboard side. Welcome to the Home Two."

"Docking bay nine on the far side, copied Home Two. And thanks."

Wedge Antilles glanced back, watching the transport manoeuvre to the right behind him, routing over the top of the cruiser towards their docking bay. Then he turned back, following the path of the lights as the guided him towards the hanger. Wedge ran through the final checks selecting the gear down, hearing and feeling the triple thwump as the gear locked, the three green lights in the cockpit confirming the status. A marshaller was waiting for him, bats glowing in his hand. Wedge followed his instructions implicitly, swinging the fighter round before descending gently to the floor. The marshaller held the bats crossed above his head then dropped his hands, pulling his thumb across his throat. Wedge acknowledged the shut-down signal with a wave of his hand then completed the checks, engine noise spooling chromatically downwards, the canopy unlocking and hissing slowly open.

A tech appeared at his side, leaning in to undo his straps and Wedge shot him a grin. Pulling off his gauntlets he undid the chinstrap of the helmet before lifting it off. He ran his fingers through his hair then stood up, dropping the helmet and gauntlets onto the seat.

In front of him, three Omega squadron T-65s lay, deserted of crew. Well, Wedge thought caustically, two and a bit X-wings. The third one had been stripped back to the basics, obviously badly damaged. He looked at it for a moment longer, then swung his legs over the edge of the fighter, sliding down the ladder to the hanger floor.

The Deck Officer was waiting for him, "Commander Antilles?"

"That’s me."

"We weren’t expecting you quite so soon," the man apologised. "If you wait here the Omega’s Supply Officer should be here shortly, though. She’ll show you to your quarters. And the Flight wants to know if you need anything checked out?"

Wedge shook his head slowly, then looked across at the four other pilots as they joined him and the Deck officer, "Ali? Is your weapons system still playing up?"

The woman nodded, "Sure is. Port side upper blaster’s jammed."

"Okay…" the Deck Officer said slowly, producing a data pad and punching the information into it. "Anyone else?"

The others shook their heads. A small brown-haired woman rushed in through the hanger door, slowing to a walk as she reached them, "Commander Antilles?"

Wedge stepped forward, "Yes?"

"Lieutenant Poom-Bar, Black Knight’s Supply Officer," she introduced. Then frowned, "I’m sorry, I was informed there were only four of you."

He flashed her a grin, shaking her hand, "Correct. We were, however asked to bring your newest recruit along with us." He turned, presenting, "Pilot Officer Baz Atron, complete with shiny new T-65."

She smiled, shaking the young man’s hand, "Welcome to Omega. We had no idea you were joining us or Commander Hawkspar would have been here."

"Is she around?" Wedge asked.

Poom-Bar shook her head, the smile fading into sadness, "She’s probably asleep. It’s oh-three-hundred ship’s time and we had the memorial ceremony this evening. Everyone was… well, they were only thrown out of the rec area two hours ago."

The pilots glanced at one another, news of Omega Squadron’s losses having already reached them. Wedge’s thoughts slipped back only a few days to Rogue’s own memorial ceremony – and their hopes that they would still find Luke Skywalker alive somewhere. "Understood," he told the Lieutenant quietly. "And apologies if we’ve dragged you out of bed in the middle of the night!"

She was smiling again, the haunted look still lurking behind her eyes. "Not a problem, I hadn’t actually made it to bed yet. Well, if you’d all follow me, I’ll get you settled in then arrange something more permanent for you, Baz. Is anyone hungry?"

~ * ~

Three sectors away, on another Mon Calamari cruiser, an alarm call dragged Major Elhen Anders from an uneasy sleep. She sat up in bed, reaching for her robe, "Come in."

The young Lieutenant stepped through the opening door, "I’m sorry to wake you, Ma’am, but… there’s a Priority One coming through."

"Priority one…" Tension knotted the pit of Elhen’s stomach. What the hells was happening that warranted a Priority one message? She was already on her feet, dragging her robe round her, "I’ll be there, Lieutenant!"

"Yes, Ma’am." The Lieutenant turned and Elhen reached for her uniform.

~ * ~

Martellon was forced to consider the possibility of the soldier’s purpose outside his chambers when he received a message that the Emperor wished to speak to him.

Not really too surprised at this turn of events, he stalked to the comms centre within his chambers to activate the holographic projection system. The Emperor always seemed to know when to contact him…

Emperor Palpatine always liked his apprentice to report in on a regular basis, even if he didn’t have much to relate. Unfortunately, this time he did.

Martellon initiated the holographic communicator, and a foot-high projected image of the Emperor appeared. The image was none too strong, and the figure kept distorting.

"Well, what have you to report, my young apprentice?" asked the Emperor in his rasping voice.

"I have news of questionable fortune, my Master. I regret to inform that my mission was almost a total failure," said Martellon, bowing his head slightly in shame.

"Did the device function as expected?"

"Yes Master."

"Did you put the information to good use?"

"Yes Master, I almost wiped out a whole X-wing squadron, but in doing so, the bait for the trap did something unexpected, and destroyed the ship holding the Glean device."

"This is unfortunate, but the main point is made. The puny Rebellion will figure it out eventually, and will be even more hateful the next time you meet. They will be none the wiser, and they cannot afford to assume that we do not have another device like it. Tell me, did you learn from your experience?"

"Yes Master"

"Then the mission was not a total failure. You are young yet, there is still time for you. I sense that you are growing stronger, becoming more attuned to the Dark Side. Good. Good."

Praise? From the Emperor? Unheard of.

Martellon was about to thank his Master, when the Emperor interrupted his train of thought.

"Do not get ideas above your station, apprentice. Vader is still Lord of the Sith. Do not think that I intend to replace him with you just yet. No. It is correct that you are ambitious, but be cautious, Vader could still crush you. You will learn, soon enough. Then your time will come. I will have Skywalker soon, and then I will rule the galaxy forever."

"Master, I do not understand Vader’s preoccupation with Skywalker. How can he possibly be a threat to us? I can sense that he is strong with the Force, but surely he will not be significant."

"Skywalker is unusual. His destiny is clouded."

"But why the preoccupation, Master?" Martellon’s confusion was obvious from his tone of voice.

"Secrets, apprentice, everything is secrets. Just as your position as my apprentice is my secret, Vader’s link with Skywalker is his secret.

No one knows that there are three of us. It suits our purpose to keep this as it has always been. The Jedi of the Light Side are convinced that there are only ever two Sith, one Master and one apprentice. However, what they do not know is that there are always three, One Master, one apprentice and one between."

Martellon drew breath to ask more questions, but the Emperor cut him off, "Be still, apprentice. You will learn soon enough. I must return to my guests. All will become clear, in time. Return to your exercises, and do not fail me a second time." The holographic projector blinked off, and the image faded.

Martellon drew a deep breath, attempting to sort through his mind, and try to make some sense of the conversation. There was, obviously, a great deal that was being kept from him. He simply had to know more before he could fully figure out the amount of attention being paid Skywalker. He returned to his meditation chamber from the Comms centre, and regarded the Jedi exercise laid out there. He had been working on the lightsabre exercise, with the candles in a circle.

The basic idea of the exercise was to teach the apprentice control. The layout was of candles set out in a circle, each one separated by ten degrees, with 36 in total. These were then lit, and using the lightsabre, the Jedi had to put the flame out on each one, without touching the wax. This was approached systematically, using the stronger hand first, then the weaker, finishing with both hands. Then the difficulty rose. The next part of the exercise was to do the same, but blindfold. Then the difficulty rose. The next part of the exercise was to do the same, using telekinesis, the power of the mind, with no physical contact between the trainee and the lightsabre. Then came the tricky part. Telekinesis, blindfold.

Martellon was at the stage where frustration often got the better of him, and he got unsettled as soon as that blindfold went on. Telekinesis he could do, perfectly, quickly, accurately and make no mistakes. When that blindfold went over his eyes, all he could hear was the call of the Dark Side. It seemed to become amplified in the darkness.

As he prepared himself, the voice became more insistent. He knew that it would manifest fully when the darkness came. And come it did.

~ * ~