Kessel.
An Imperial fleet dropped out of hyperspace all at once.
At the center of it, a Sovereign-class Star Destroyer stretched sixteen hundred meters long, a triangular blade driving straight toward the hearts of every administrator on the planet below.
Around it hung three Venator-class Destroyers, eight cruisers, and a swarm of frigates and landing craft behind them.
The whole formation settled over the planet like a storm front, blotting out the sky.
The planet’s overseers, men who’d spent years doing little but bleed slave labor for profit, dropped to the ground on the spot, faces gone pale with confusion and fear.
Sirens rose across the entire surface almost in the same breath.
Security teams grabbed their weapons and braced for a fight that none of them actually wanted.
Their hands shook around the grips.
Nobody moved first.
The gap in firepower was too obvious to ignore, and until someone understood what this fleet actually wanted, no one dared strike the first spark.
On the bridge of the Star Destroyer, Captain Tantive stood with his hands clasped behind his back, chest out, looking down at the planet with open contempt.
If this weren’t a mission, he wouldn’t have set foot on a place this filthy for anything.
An adjutant stood behind him, head bowed.
“Captain, awaiting your orders.”
Tantive waved a hand.
“In the name of apprehending a Jedi fugitive, place the entire planet under blockade.
Bring me the individual responsible for the fuel depot.
Interrogate him for anything useful on the Jedi, then execute him.”
As long as no one could prove the Jedi had already left, the fleet had all the justification it needed to sit here for a month or two.
And two months from now, the Empire would already have Kessel firmly in hand regardless.
The adjutant saluted and moved to carry it out.
Moments later, hangar doors opened across the fleet’s underside, and gunships poured down toward Kessel like a swarm of dark insects.
A broadcast went out across the surface at the same time.
“The Empire has received intelligence regarding a traitorous Jedi hiding on Kessel.”
“To apprehend this individual, the planet is being placed under full blockade.”
“Once the Jedi is in custody, our forces will withdraw.”
“Your cooperation is expected.”
“Anyone found assisting the fugitive will be treated as a collaborator.”
Xantos sat frozen at the sound of that broadcast, mind blank, body sinking deeper into his chair with every word.
Before he could pull himself together, a transport had already touched down on his landing pad.
The ramp dropped, and a squad in white armor marched straight for his office.
“Xantos.
With us.”
A dozen blasters leveled his way, and his hands shot up on their own, legs turning weak beneath him.
He swallowed hard, not risking a single word of protest.
Whatever reward he’d been counting on had already evaporated.
Now the only question left was how much he was about to lose.
Possibly his life along with it.
———————————————————————————————– New chapters come out on g.com first.
On Saleucami, Lance moved through the dense forest, Grogu in his arms and R4 trailing behind, ducking under cover of thick foliage every time an Imperial probe droid swept overhead.
“That’s the third one.”
He raised an eyebrow watching it pass, quietly grateful he’d sunk the fighter when he did.
It had been three hours since they’d left the cave at first light, and by now they were hearing engines overhead roughly once an hour.
“This isn’t normal.
Patrol density’s way up from yesterday.”
He turned it over in his head.
Did they find the fighter in the lake?
He shook the thought off almost immediately.
No.
Too soon for that.
More likely the ship had drawn attention on approach to Saleucami, enough suspicion to justify tightening the search grid.
As long as the fighter itself stayed hidden, they had no fixed point to search from, and this planet ran two or three times the size of Earth.
Finding two people on foot here would be next to impossible.
Still, they needed to move faster.
He thought back to the shadow he’d sensed through the Force the night before, meditating in the cave, and something urgent settled in his chest.
Once the probe droid cleared the area, he stepped out from cover and picked up the pace.
The sun tilted west of the zenith as the day wore on.
Before nightfall, he found another cave, cleared whatever was living inside it without much trouble, and meditated through the night, same as before.
The third night went the same way.
Something odd had started happening to him.
His strength kept building steadily, but his mind felt more worn down each time, not less.
By the next morning they were moving again, and by midday they spotted a thin trail of smoke rising in the distance.
Lance had R4 pull up the holomap.
A dashed blue line marked their path, less than ten kilometers now from the spaceport.
“If we push, we could make it by tonight.”
Except.
He looked down at himself.
Jedi robes.
Padawan braid.
An astromech droid at his heel.
Not exactly subtle.
He’d need to blend in before stepping into the city, which meant a disguise.
He looked out toward the smoke and let an idea settle into place.
“Guess I’m playing thief today.”
Half an hour later, a farmhouse came into view. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
He crouched behind a boulder and raised his macrobinoculars.
The view sharpened as the lenses auto-focused.
Rows of alien crops stretched across the field outside the house, tall brown stalks topped with round, pale gold fruit, something like sunflowers wearing small golden basketballs.
He shifted his view to the courtyard.
A round-roofed house, ringed by a metal fence two or three meters high.
An insect landed on the fence wire and dropped instantly, a wisp of smoke curling off its body.
Electrified.
The height itself wasn’t a real obstacle, easily cleared with one jump.
Two Twi’lek children came running out, kicking a ball across the yard, their laughter carrying past the fence and over the fields to where he crouched.
“Iya!”
Grogu perked up instantly, waving the little metal ball in one hand, reaching toward the sound with the other.
Lance shook his head slightly and kept watching.
A purple-skinned Twi’lek woman appeared in the doorway, calling the children back inside.
They dropped the ball without complaint and ran in.
Recon finished, he lowered the binoculars.
Not a good target.
Lifting a few pieces of clothing without waking anyone would be hard enough on its own, and with two children in the house, the risk climbed a lot higher.
Kids were the one variable he couldn’t plan around.
He was already getting ready to move on when something caught his eye, an Omicron class shuttle cutting fast across the horizon toward them.
His pulse jumped, and he dropped lower behind the rock.
The shuttle set down minutes later in the open ground beside the crop field.
The ramp lowered, and four troopers stepped out, though nothing about their gear matched standard issue.
Their armor ran solid black, thick red stripes across the shoulders and arms, tactical packs strapped to their backs.
He zoomed in on their faces.
The one in front wore his hair medium length, a red headband across his forehead, camouflage streaked over his skin.
Behind him stood three more: one in a crew cut with glasses, one bald with a mechanical arm, and a last one, bald and built like a wall.
All four turned at once toward the shuttle’s open hatch.
Lance followed their attention and shifted the binoculars.
A girl stood in the doorway, short pale gold hair slicked back, a thin silver chain draped across her forehead.
She stepped down slowly, then dropped to her knees partway across the yard and grabbed a fistful of soil in one hand.
Watching from a distance, Lance felt a name surface almost immediately, matching the unit in front of him.
Clone Force 99.
The Bad Batch.
He’d crossed paths with them once, back on the front.
A special forces unit, small in number, each one carrying some unusual edge over standard troops.
They’d racked up plenty of quiet, unrecognized victories over the course of the war.
And the girl.
Who is she?