(Continued from Cataclysm )

Leonia Tavira was bored. This simply wasn't fun anymore. Drawing the covers close, she glanced at the warm body beside her and sighed. At length she cast the bundled cloth aside and sat up, finally willing herself to walk the short distance to her work desk, pulling a robe tight around herself as the tedious chore ahead swelled to dominate her mind.

In five minutes she had given up; Lists of ships, names of crews, values of captured cargoes . . . What does it matter? What does any of it matter? So what if she commanded the most powerful force in the sector; so what if she held a dozen worlds at blaster point, demanded tribute and service from billions. What did it matter? It would all end, one way or another, sooner or later.

Sliding back into bed, she let such thoughts fade into the dim haze that had become her conscious memory, and fell finally into that peaceful escape of sleep.

She awoke to a cold body at her side. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she rolled onto her side, looked at the young man with disgust. She pulled the cord from his neck with a violent flick of the wrist, rolling away and walking to the comm unit, her nude form exposed only by the distant starlight filtering through the lone viewport.

“Get this out of my room . . . and bring me another.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Came the quick reply.

Don't call me “ma'am,” She thought to herself, sneering at the unseen subordinate, her eyes drifting to a mirror, though the darkness prevented her from seeing those first signs of age that had begun to appear on her body.

Wrapping the cord into a neat bundle, she slid into her work chair and tousled her hair. This one better be more entertaining than the last.





“Careful, Marshal; Leonia Tavira is a ruthless, unpredictable, and effective foe,” Captain Genkal spat the word, the admission a bitter one to make. “She kept an entire New Republic battle group at bay for the better part of a year, until the Republic collapsed and she turned from prey to predator. She took us piecemeal, destroying or driving off every one of my commanders―even swaying a few into her ranks―until Naritus was all that remained.”

“And you've been hunting her all of this time?” Kerrick asked, his disbelief evident.

“Hunting? Gods no! I've been running; she's been hunting us for years. I've got no friendly port, no safe haven, no repair yard or supply depot to seek assistance from―”

“Then why haven't you gotten out of the region?” Kerrick cut in.

The Mon Calamari captain's eyes grew wide―that is, wider than normal― “Because this is my post! This is my mission!”

“The New Republic is dead,” Kerrick said flatly.

“That doesn't make Leonia Tavira any less evil,” Genkal shot back.

“You have no commitment to this place,” Kerrick pressed.

“My oath is to the people of the galaxy; to their freedom and safety. No government can change that. I did not come here to fly a flag, Marshal; I came here to kill Leonia Tavira, and to ensure that no one rose to replace her.”

Kerrick laughed aloud, obviously drawing the anger of the Mon Calamari captain, who believed himself being mocked. “Well then, welcome to the Rimwar Defense Initiative; you can wear whatever uniform you'd like, just as long as you shoot at the people we tell you to.”







Kavil was an ugly bastard. The scars and scorch marks across his face and arms were a gruesome testament to his personal refusal to die the pathetic death he deserved. He hadn't been much to look at before his service to the Empire, his time as a privateer, his eventual decline to outright piracy, and finally his submission to Leonia Tavira. Now, he was downright despicable.

But he was Tavira's second in command, so he would have to be put up with. “How'd you escape?”

Kavil's lips twisted in a hideous smile. “I didn't.”

His counterpart clearly didn't understand. “Excuse me?”

“They caught me, Charlie, and they sent me here to make you an offer.”

Charlie's eyes widened in shock, hands fumbling under his desk.

“Push that button, and we're all dead,” Kavil warned.

Charlie froze. “What's your angle?”

“They wired my ship to blow. Reactor's on the verge of critical. Either you work with them, or they'll blow the whole base to hell.”

“They wouldn't do that!” But Charlie's hand still didn't reach for the button to call his men.

“There are maybe a hundred twenty of them on the whole ship; got a bunch of droids helpin' 'em out.” Kavil leaned forward in his chair, catching Charlie's eye. “You think Arkanus wouldn't throw a hundred twenty of his men into the furnace to wipe out a fifth of Tavira's forces, then you're dumber than I thought.”

“They don't work like that; they've got rules.”

Kavil chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “See: that's why Arkanus is gonna win. You think he's playing by the rules.”

“What . . . what do you want with me?”

“You're going to help them capture your men.”

Charlie mustered a sardonic smile. “Oh? And why would I do that.”

“Besides the fact that if you don't, they're going to blow my ship's reactor and take this whole base out? Because if you do, they won't put you in a cage.”

Charlie's smile vanished. It was at that moment that he knew Kavil was completely serious. “Why are you doing this, Kavil?”

“Because they told me to. Because I won't spend the rest of my life in a box; not for you, not for Tavira. Not for the fifty thousand men I handed over to buy myself free air. So what'll it be, Charlie: death or penance?”







Charlie probably didn't choose penance, but he definitely didn't choose death. The quick turnover of Kavil's group meant Tavira's collective forces were still unaware of the specifics of the engagement when Charlie did his traitorous deed. Sending the bulk of his force out in five separate formations to RDI-supplied destinations, the overwhelming force they met with convinced fully one-fifth of Tavira's force to surrender with almost no bloodshed.

When Kerrick's formation dropped out of hypserspace in a semisphere around Charlie's rogue asteroid base, the force remaining was minimal. When Charlie gave the order to surrender, the vastly outnumbered pirates were quick to comply.

The pirate ships were vacated and restaffed with trained and ready RDI crews. As Tavira's force shrank, Kerrick's grew.

The Aggressor-class Star Destroyer that so recently served as the flag of Tavira's chief lieutenant now floated in pieces around an RDI friendly world. Its main cannon had been permanently disabled, many of its secondary systems stripped to provide material for repairs to damaged RDI ships. Soon the Star Destroyer would be unrecognizable, a great evil consumed to support far greater good.

Soon, Tavira's own vessel would suffer the same fate.

Soon, this would all be over.

Leonia Tavira shot the messenger. Right on the bridge of her Star Destroyer, in the middle of a meeting, she shot the messenger.

The young woman hit the deck with a dull thud, the life gone from her.

“I said I want Kerrick Arkanus' head on a plate!” She slammed her blaster against the holotable, her rage cowing any objections from her subordinates. “I said bring it to me!” She pounded her fist against the table. “Bring it to me!”

Arkanus and his fool of an “Initiative” was cutting her forces apart piecemeal, and all her lieutenants could do was fall over and die . . . or give up without a fight!

She'd have no more of it! Seething, she reholstered her blaster, palms pressed against the surface of the table. “I see now I'll have to do this myself.”



Oh how petty is the fall from greatness.







“This is why fear is never an effective form of governance,” Kerick murmured, studying the shackled man in front of him. “You can only be so afraid for so long, and then you either die or decide to do something about it. Unchain him.”

The guard looked to Kerrick uncertainly. Frowning, the Marshal of the Rimward Defense Initiative walked over and took the key from him. “We don't punish people for helping us.”

Unshackling the prisoner himself, Kerrick said,“Congratulations, the Rimward Defense Initiative pardons you of all past transgressions. Your conviction has redeemed you. Go, and sin no more.”

“Just kill that bitch.” The venom in the man's voice impressed even Kerrick.

“It'll be my pleasure.”

“And give me a ship,” The man added. “I'm going to be there when you finish her.”

“Alright then. You've just been inducted into the Rimward Defense Initiative.”

Kerrick turned to leave, flipping the small datacard back and forth between his fingers. “We leave in twelve hours.”







Leonia Tavira had killed the wrong man's girlfriend. Now Kerrick knew the location of her deep space supply depot, where her forces were gathering for a “surprise” attack.

Her organization was falling apart around her. She had lost much to attrition, much more to treachery and subterfuge, and as her persona faded beneath the weight of reality, she lost the most important thing of all: Belief.

Her subordinates no longer believed. And then the ships appeared, and Tavira's servants found something new to believe in: the power of the Rimward Defense Initiative.

The order went out on all frequencies, in all directions. Kerrick Arkanus shouted, “Fire!” and his forces answered with obedience.

The Mon Calamari Star Cruiser Naritus had suffered heavy damage in the battle against Kavil's Corsairs and wasn't likely to be in operational order for some time. Captain Genkal had taken command of the Dreadnaught Firestar and was leading one of the five task forces which made up the bulk of the RDI fleet.

As the first volley of return fire struck the shields of Kerrick's command ship, he marveled at the destructive power laid out before him. These great weapons that―even here, in the void between stars―could not help but destroy, kill, maim.

Of course, Kerrick knew that these weapons were nothing compared the people who willed their use.

The ship shuddered beneath him, and he knew it had begun. “Sir, the Invidious is turning toward us. Her starboard weapons will have effective target locks in fifteen seconds.”

Kerrick nodded. “Execute the Ackbar Slash.”

“Already?” The ship's captain asked.

“Already,” Kerrick affirmed. “Comms, signal the Spear attack group. We're going in.”

Tavira was determined to kill Kerrick. Kerrick was determined to use that knowledge to his benefit. If Tavira was going to point every gun she could manage at Kerrick, then Kerrick was going to minimize the number of guns Tavira could point at him.

The Ackbar Slash maneuver was a rather simple means of reducing a Star Destroyer's ability to deal damage. The wedge is necessarily an offensive shape, its purpose to maximize the number of weapons that can target a single point. It also meant that all an enemy had to do to half its destructive capacity was pull alongside it.

And that's where the Spear formation was going: into the heart of the Invid formation, just between Invidious and the space station that maintained her. A straight line of ships plunged into the Invid fleet, their weapons firing in all directions, nearby enemy ships acting as intermittent shields against more distant vessels.

And Tavira's irrational objective drove her commanders and crews to push beyond the safety limits, taking shots at the intermixed targets that no competent commander would authorize. Many of the shots struck other Invid vessels; Kerrick had managed to multiply the damage capacity of the RDI fleet simply by being.

As Invidious and indeed the entire Invid formation turned to to track Kerrick onboard the Cavalier, the Spear formation banked into a turn, forcing the enemy ships to continue their turns if they wanted to keep Kerrick in their weapons arcs.

And all the while, men like Genkal pounded on the Invid fleet from without, taking full advantage of the distraction Kerrick bought at his own peril.

Still, Cavalier was taking heavy fire and the Calamari-inspired shield recharge subsystems were on the verge of overloading. Damage reports were already coming in from intermittent strikes to the hull. One of the other Spear ships had pulled alongside Cavalier to block it from some of the enemy fire, but the Spear couldn't turn fast enough to maintain its proximity to the Invids.

More and more target locks were being acquired on the vessels. Soon Kerrick wouldn't be able to evade the overwhelming force of the Invids.

“We're screwed,” Kerrick muttered.

“Contacts!” the sensor officer shouted out suddenly.

“No shit, man.”

“New contacts, Sir,” he clarified.

Kerrick pulled up the relevant data. “Well I'll be . . .”

The MC 80a Star Cruiser Naritus loomed nearby, surrounded by a cloud of converted bulk freighters and other converted civilian vessels.

Captain Genkal's voice sounded over the comms. “Leonia Tavira, surrender now or you will die.”

Kerrick Arkanus sighed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut against the inevitable. “Yeah, we're screwed. That's not how you talk to psychopaths.”

“Target that Star Cruiser! Kill them! Kill them all!”

Leonia Tavira had lost it. She had absolutely gone insane. The sight of that Star Cruiser, the sound of that voice, and the transponders of those ships marking them as vessels from every world Tavira demanded tribute from had pushed her far over the edge.

She probably didn't even realize the fact that Naritus was hardly in fighting order, a reality only thinly shielded by the inherent sensor interference from the swarm of ships between them.

She certainly didn't realize that the voice was only a recording, that Genkal had been here since the start of the engagement, that one of his trusted lieutenants was commanding the ragtag force that had just arrived.

“Fire!”

A single blaster bolt sounded through the bridge. Command stations fell silent as the crew turned to see the sight, a single set of footsteps reverberating through the air.

A hand reached out and activated the holocomm. “My name is Alicia Wildwind. Leonia Tavira is dead. We surrender.”

The blaster slipped from her grasp, and she fell to her knees.

It was over.







Sorting through the remains of Leonia Tavira's outlaw empire was a logistical nightmare. Repairs were underway on the former vessels of the Kavil's Corsairs, which had been under RDI control for the longest, but the rest of the pirate ships were under a sort of mass impound while RDI administration decided how best to distribute or dismantle them.

She had operated a motley assortment of ships, pieced together from all sorts of conquests and acquisitions. Invidious was undoubtedly the most destructive vessel present, but a number of other ships were rather respectable in their own rights, including several Stellar Enterprises vessels and a few ships that had been captured from Genkal's task force years earlier.

They were still trying to sort out where all of the ships had come from.

And that was only one side of the matter; the Rimward Defense Initiative had just discovered the need for diplomacy. Several worlds within Tavira's former domain had expressed interest in joining the Defense Initiative and―more eagerly―the arising Free Trade Initiative. But neither organization had any substantial diplomatic corps.

And then there were the more personal problems, which had no foreseeable positive outcomes. Kerrick was taking a lot of heat for his use of prisoners in combat situations, and many of the more reserved elements of the RDI thought the fight against Tavira had been a gross misuse of resources, on the order of abandoning participant members (given the location of several RDI member worlds within Reaver Space, which Kerrick had flatly refused to launch support forces to assist).

But he had won. Leonia Tavira was dead, her forces captured, and a whole sector of space free from a tyranny worse than any emperor could impose. These things were good, fundamentally. Kerrick was certain of that.

And the other questions . . . well, they didn't change the truth. Kerrick Arkanus had done good where others had only stood by and watched.

The comm chimed. Kerrick heaved himself up and pressed a button, expecting to hear the voice of the ship's captain. Instead, he was greeted by the blue-white glow of his personal holoprojector. “Dammit, Genkal, what is it now?”

“We have a problem.”

“If we have a problem, then we're in a lot better shape than I thought. What is it?”

“Those Stellar Enterprises ships in Tavira's fleet; they weren't stolen, or captured. He sold them to her.”

Kerrick sighed heavily, sliding a chair over to take a seat. “Well that changes things.”

“There was some deal of paperwork. Tavira did a competent enough job of conjuring up a legitimate-looking front to submit the purchase orders through, but―”

“But if you're going to build warships and sell them for profit, you damn well better make sure who you're selling them to!” Kerrick squeezed his eyes shut, his head pounding after the last days' exertions. “What do we do?”

Genkal's answer was low and severe. “I think it's time we impress upon Stellar Enterprises the burden of responsibility they bear as an institution of militant commerce.”

“'We'? So you're with us on this?”

The Mon Calamari captain nodded gravely, stepping back just enough to allow Kerrick to see the rank badge he wore on his New Republic uniform; he had changed it to an RDI insignia. “Until there's no more darkness to dispel.”

A warlord had fallen. A great victory had been achieved. But the future was filled with uncertainty, the galaxy bursting with enemies but holding precious few friends.

And now I have to go stir up trouble.