Harbinger

Disclaimer: I dont' own it and I've received no remuneration. I just like to play, folks.

Author's Note: Despite the copious amounts of technical research done for the benefit of this chapter, I anticipate mistakes and/or omissions, because I'm human. If you encounter any information that you think is glaringly wrong, feel free to drop me a line and let me know. Concrit is always welcome, so long as it is not done with malice.

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~ “I’ll be always on your side; in the shadows, in the light.”~
-Enigma
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DEATH STAR BATTLESTATION, GORDIN REACH, YAVIN SYSTEM

Had Preitha been given a choice, she would have elected to lie in Vader’s arms for the rest of eternity. She wasn’t sure how long she actually did stay there, drifting between sleep and waking, listening to his breathing and her own heartbeat. She could still feel his fingers on her skin, could feel him moving within her, and she wanted to savor the sensations for as long as he would let her remain with him. She knew that all too soon they would be summoned by Tarkin, and they would go back to being soldiers instead of people… instead of lovers.

Vader was silent save for his breathing cycle. He was deep in thought as he held her tightly against his chest. He still did not understand the seemingly universal attraction to his armored form, but women wanted him, it was undeniable. His master had drilled into his brain the notion that sex was nothing more than another way to gain power. To conquer even one was a victory, and patience was as potent as action. Sidious had not risen to absolute power swiftly, he had been patient, watching from the shadows as his plans took root, grew and festered. Dominance came from submission and without one, there could not be the other. The Emperor’s ascent to power hadn’t only been accomplished in the political arena; a large portion of it was consummated in the bedrooms of influential Republic Senators – both male and female. Vader’s own tastes did not extend beyond interest in the fairer sex and, fortunately for him, Palpatine had never forced him to indulge in what the older man referred to as “the purest of passions”. He’d had many women in the last twenty years; a number of them senators or high-ranking society members of various worlds, but the encounters had been fleeting and insignificant. A means to an end only.

Was it different with this one? Perhaps. With other women he’d bedded, he’d been eager to cast them aside after he’d taken what he wanted. That wasn’t the case with Preitha. He couldn’t think of anything he ‘wanted’ from her other than her presence. Maybe it was her, thus far, unwavering trust in him that he found so compelling.

He ‘was’ guilty of some manipulation in his quest to get her into his bed; the flowers, the bits of information. But he was Sith, and after twenty years of basking in the power of the Dark Side, he didn’t think he was capable of acting without manipulating, without dominating. It was as much a part of him as his synthesized lungs and mechanical limbs.

Vader sighed and pulled his companion closer. No, he did not wish to cast her aside, nor did he want anything from her more than her company. It was premature to speculate on the reasons for this growing attachment and, in truth, he preferred not to think on it at all. For now, he would simply enjoy her presence, and worry about the rest later.

They remained that way for some time, and it became clear to Preitha that Vader was not going to disturb her. She was happy to realize that he seemed as content as she was. Finally, though, she spoke.

“My Lord,” she said with a sigh, “we’re nearing Yavin, aren’t we?”

“We’re in the system,” he confirmed.

“I’m surprised Tarkin hasn’t commed for you yet.”

“He probably has,” Vader admitted with a wry grin. “I turned it off.”

“You… turned it off??” she asked incredulously, turning in his arms to gaze at him with disbelief.

“Well,” he shrugged, “I was busy.” He gave her an affectionate squeeze.

“They’re going to be rather angry if they’ve tried to contact you, don’t you think?”

“Most likely,” he chuckled. She was also smiling. “But that’s never bothered me before.”

******

They found Tarkin, Motti, and Tagge in the Command Center, monitoring the viewscreen as it displayed the station’s progression towards the rebel base. The Death Star Triumvirate, as they were often called by the crew, were scattered throughout the room; their positions, ironically and unintentionally, forming a perfectly proportioned triangle.

“I tried to contact you, Lord Vader,” Tarkin snapped.

“Indeed?” Vader feigned surprise, walking over to stand by the Grand Moff.

Preitha headed to where her father was standing against the far wall, intending to apologize for her earlier behavior. He was her father, after all, and though she did not agree with his actions at times, she did love him.

Motti took one look at her and knew what had transpired – her hair was tousled, her uniform rumpled, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth whenever she thought no one was looking. He grabbed her roughly by the upper arm and pulled her close, causing her to wince as her wound reopened beneath the bandage.

“You smell like a whore,” he spat.

“Don’t do this, father. Please,” she whispered, glancing around to see how many others were witnessing the exchange. There was nothing worse than gossiping Imperial soldiers. She was already anticipating her fair share as a result of her association with Lord Vader.

“You are a whore and a traitor, child. You make me regret so many things,” he hissed with such vehemence that Preitha flinched.

She took an involuntary step backwards and attempted to pull free of her father’s grasp. If she had to walk away from him to end the confrontation, she would. A second glance around the room revealed the Sith Lord watching the exchange carefully, black mask cocked slightly to one side. He seemed to be weighing the repercussions of intervening. Preitha shook her head, silently willing him to remain where he was. It would be better if she handled this herself.

-=It’s beyond that now,=- he stated as he moved towards them.

“Admiral,” Vader growled, coming to stand behind Preitha. He did not touch her, but his stance was both protective and possessive. He made it clear that he would not warn the other man twice. “This is neither the time, nor the place, if ever there was one.”

“One of these days, Lord Vader, you may regret your actions here,” Motti said, but there was resignation in his voice. He dropped his hand and released his daughter, allowing her to back away from him even further.

“I could say the same to you, Admiral,” Vader replied.

“Orbiting the planet at maximum velocity,” the Navigational Officer announced over the Command Center’s intercom. “The moon with the rebel base will be in range in thirty minutes.”

The viewscreen display changed to show the Death Star’s plotted course around Yavin as the schematics program predicted rotation, speed, and trajectory. The argument was abandoned, forgotten. Everyone turned to regard the display with anticipation, and apprehension.

Vader took Preitha’s hand and settled it into the crook of his elbow, then pulled her with him to stand behind Tarkin. She felt a wave of emotion pass through her at the unspoken acknowledgment.

“This will be a day long remembered,” the Sith Lord announced. “It has seen the end of Kenobi, and will soon see the end of the Rebellion.”

Preitha grinned triumphantly beside him. It was a grand day indeed. Neither she nor Vader noticed the uncertainty in Tarkin’s expression.

“Finally, this nightmare will end,” Tagge stated.

“Your flair for over-dramatization is growing old, Commander,” Motti commented dryly, drawing a stern look of reproval from Tarkin. This infighting between the three of them was getting worse.

“Forgive me, sirs, but I don’t believe we’re out of the woods yet,” the Navigational Officer said, rising from his chair to face Tarkin.

“How so, Captain?”

“The rebels seem to have anticipated our arrival; we’ve picked up a battalion of fighters approaching the station in attack formation,” he elaborated.

Tarkin sighed. It was as he’d expected, the rebels were going to put up a fight. “Vader, go see to the details of this final attack,” he said. With his hands behind his back, he turned once again to face the viewscreen.

The Sith Lord nodded and led Preitha to the door. One day, when ‘he’ was Emperor, Tarkin would regret his high-handedness. One day, Vader would crush his windpipe – slowly.

“Yes, do, Lord Vader,” Motti called after the pair. “And take your whore with you.”

Preitha whirled around and glared at her father, but Vader did not slow his pace.

-=Let it go… =- he pathed to her, -=…for now.=-

The Admiral would regret many things as well. In time.

******

Against all odds, the rebels were doing surprisingly well in their assault. They were using X and Y-Wings; small crafts that were able to get closer to the Death Star than anyone had anticipated. Blasts rocked the station repeatedly as it was hit by enemy fire. The rebel ships moved with a purpose. Though they had not made much progress, they were still alive. That, in and of itself, was a success of sorts.

“Are we in trouble?” Preitha asked as they strode down the corridor. She had to steady herself against his massive form when another blast of laser fire jolted them off-balance.

“No,” Vader replied confidently. Stormtroopers were marching in purposeful lines down the hallways, mobilizing and enacting their defense strategy protocols. It seemed like useless posturing to Preitha; the rebels were not boarding the station. Whatever their intentions, the enemy planned to achieve it without leaving the comfort of their spacecrafts.

The deck Lieutenant approached Vader nervously. Preitha knew from experience that the lower ranking officers often drew straws to determine which of them would be responsible for delivering bad news to their superiors. “We count thirty rebel ships, Lord Vader. But they are so small they’re evading our turbo lasers.”

Vader seemed unfazed. “We’ll have to destroy them ship to ship. Get the crews to their fighters.”

A shower of sparks and shrapnel exploded in the hallway as the station was rocked by another blast. Soldiers stumbled and clambered to maintain their balance as the structure tilted from the impact and then righted itself once again.

“And myself, my Lord?” Preitha asked as they swept down the long corridor. She anticipated being sent to her room yet again, and was prepared to feel useless for the second time that day.

“This would be a fine chance to prove yourself, little one. Suit up.”

“You’re going to put me in a fighter?” She blinked, not sure she’d heard him correctly.

“You bragged about your skills earlier,” he teased.

“Well, I…” she trailed off. She ‘could’ fly, and she knew it.

“I’m going to make you my left wingman,” he revealed, giving her arm a squeeze. “Unless, of course, you’d rather not?”

She beamed at him. “Nonsense, I’m honored. It’s just… well, I haven’t done much real flying, just sims. I never really expected to have the chance.”

“Yes, I know. But whatever my personal opinion of you, I would not have you by my side if I wasn’t confident in your abilities.”

She nodded and swallowed hard. Finally, she thought to herself, a chance to actually ‘do’ something useful. For once she wouldn’t just be watching.

“Stay in formation and follow all of my commands,” he said.

She nodded again. There were only thirty rebel ships, and over two dozen Imperial squadrons had already been deployed. The fight would be brief, but not without danger. The Rebel Alliance was rumored to have some of the best pilots in the galaxy amongst their ranks.

They made their way to the TIE hangar where Vader ushered Preitha towards the equipment room to be outfitted with a flight suit. Other pilots were milling about, and a few gave her distinctly acidic looks when they realized she would be flying; they were an exclusive bunch, who did not think very highly of their non-risk taking counterparts. Two deck hands scurried to help her into the bulky attire, and a series of clicks and hisses preceded a rush of concentrated, breathable air. The suit was restrictive, but necessary, and not unlike Vader’s own armor, she noted wryly. It was a self-contained unit, complete with an oxygen supply tank strapped to her back, and dual air tubes that hooked to the sides of her helmet.

She felt top-heavy with the thick durasteel helmet; and took a few moments to adjust her balance to accommodate for the added weight of the equipment. It had been at least a year since she’d donned the gear – most instructors at the Academy insisted that a flight suit be worn, even in the simulators, but the supervisor for her Lieutenant training had not required it.

“Several fighters have broken off from the main group,” Vader announced, entering the room. He pointed to Preitha and another suited pilot. “Come with me.”

The deck hands escorted her out into the launch bay behind the Sith Lord, leading her to a spare fighter. She saw Vader climb into his own modified craft just ahead of her. He paused a moment, seemed to hold her gaze, before turning away and sinking down into the cockpit.

Preitha took one final look around the interior of the battlestation, and did the same.

The TIE fighters raced down the release chute and launched into the black expanse of space outside the Death Star. Preitha savored the momentary sensation of weightlessness, before she engaged her forward thrusters to push her away from the docking bay. The small craft seemed to float amongst the stars.

“Do you copy, Black Two?” Vader’s deep baritone echoed through her earpiece.

“I copy, Black Leader,” she answered into the mouthpiece set into her helmet, scanning the technical readout of her display panels. Everything was in order and, to her relief, exactly as she remembered it. Still, her hands trembled when she gripped the control yoke. She silently willed her legs to quit shaking as her feet came to rest over the foot pedal switches.

“Remember your training,” he told her. “Stick close, and listen for my commands.”

She assumed position to the left of, and slightly behind, the Sith Lord’s fighter. Vader banked hard to the right and Preitha followed, circling around the spherical structure of the station as if in orbit around it, tracking the path of the rebel fighters.

Off in the distance, a small, three-ship squad of Y-Wings was racing above and across the terrain of the station, weaving in and out of sight. They were moving in tight formation, expertly dodging blasts from the turbo lasers affixed to the external surface of the Death Star. They were quite skilled, Preitha noted.

“Stay in attack formation,” Vader told them curtly. He sounded every bit a warrior at the moment, every bit a Sith Lord.

Preitha maintained the distance behind Vader’s craft, but allowed her fighter to drift wide to the left, so that she would have an easier time targeting any enemy ships who might attempt to take aim at the Sith Lord. They lifted above the surface of the structure, pulling back to pinpoint the exact location of the Y-Wing squadron.

The TIEs were closing in on the rebel ships at a frightening speed. The enemy crafts swung back and forth as they traveled, making it difficult to lock onto their position. Suddenly, the Y-Wing formation dropped down ‘into’ one of the canyons that covered the Death Star’s surface.

“I’ll take them myself,” Vader announced. “Cover me.”

“Yes, sir,” Black Three replied, staying close to Vader’s right flank.

The space was narrow, Preitha saw, barely wide enough for the three TIEs to stay in attack formation. The Imperial fighters dropped neatly and swiftly into the cramped space behind the Y-Wings.

-=You’re doing very well, little one,=- he told her silently. -=Your father would be pleased, were he not such an idiot.=-

Preitha winced. She did ‘not’ want to think about her father right now. She was saved the necessity when, without warning, Vader fired his laser cannons at the Y-Wing closest to him. The enemy craft exploded in a brilliant flash.

The trio of TIEs raced past the floating debris of the destroyed craft, still in close pursuit of the remaining two rebel ships. Several moments passed before another burst of fire erupted from Vader’s laser cannons. The leading Y-Wing was demolished in the same fashion as its’ companion.

“Close up formation,” Vader barked sharply.

“Let me take this one, Black Leader,” Preitha said boldly, readying her targeting computer, and tracking the side-to-side movements of the remaining Y-Wing.

“Acceptable, Black Two,” was Vader’s reply as he moved his craft slightly to the right to give her more room.

Preitha sucked in a deep, nervous breath and held it, thumbs hovering over the controls for her laser cannons until the targeting computer of her TIE beeped repeatedly, indicating that it had locked onto the enemy craft. She did not release her breath until she saw one, bright green beam of light strike the Y-Wing’s left engine port, shattering it. The craft lost control and spiraled rapidly downward to the surface of the Death Star.

“Well done,” Vader commended. “Circle around and prepare for the next wave.”

The Lieutenant pulled hard on the yoke, drawing it in towards her body to propell the craft upwards. The three fighters soared away from the trench in a broad arc, looping above the Death Star in a maneuver that Preitha used to love practicing at the Academy – one that had caused several of her compatriots serious bouts of motion sickness.

The X-Wings were already in the trench, when the TIEs came back down to skim the surface of the station. Again they dropped into the narrow passageway and, with lightning speed, closed the distance to the rebel fighters.

“Close up formation,” the Sith Lord cautioned a second time as they re-entered the narrow trench.

Vader expertly dispatched the right wingman and the trio swept through the debris without slowing their pace.

“I have him, my Lord,” Preitha said. As her targeting computer locked onto the left wingman she fired, destroying the craft with a stream of blaster energy.

They were nearing the end of the trench. She saw the remaining X-Wing fire a proton torpedo directly at the wall, and then pull up and out of the canyon. She didn’t have time to wonder at the rebels’ intentions; she followed Vader’s fighter out of the furrow, still on the tail of the enemy craft. After several moments of pursuit Vader fired, destroying the small ship.

“Another wave of them coming in, sir,” Black Three announced. “What the hell are they up to?”

They repeated the same looping arc as before and dropped in behind the latest group of fighters. Black Three locked onto the right wingman and fired.

The craft took the hit, but did not explode. After a moment it lifted out of the trench and pulled away.

“Let him go,” Vader instructed. “Stay on the leader.”

The remaining rebel wingman slowed his pace, allowing some distance between his craft and that of the squad leader. The TIEs caught it easily, and Vader destroyed the X-Wing without hesitation.

“I’m on the leader,” Vader announced, increasing his speed to catch up with the remaining ship. He allowed a smile to creep across his features; he still loved to fly, though he did not have many opportunities to do so anymore.

The Sith Lord’s smile faded as they drew closer to the lone X-Wing. There was something different about this last fighter, he could not quite tell what. The rebel was a talented pilot, but there was nothing extraordinary about his technique. Vader reached out through the Force, searching… ah, there it was. He’d been so intently focused on the battle that he had not noticed it before.

“The Force is strong with this one,” he murmured aloud.

Suddenly, this mission had become far more dangerous. There was a chance, however small, that this Force-Sensitive rebel would succeed. His thoughts shifted to Preitha, flying quite capably on his left flank. If he allowed her to continue at his side, he was putting her at great risk. All of his other pilots were expendable; she was not. Vader realized he was faced with a choice.

“Black Two, break formation,” he instructed. Then he switched channels and ordered another pilot to come in and replace her.

“I didn’t copy, Black Leader,” Preitha’s voice came back. She had, though. She just didn’t particularly like the order.

“Break formation, Lieutenant,” he told her again.

“Why?” she blurted out, hurt. She thought she’d been doing quite well.

“I’m giving you an order,” he barked. “Get out of here!”

Preitha realized there was no sense in arguing with him further, so she didn’t, she simply lifted her craft up and away, intending to circle around and land back in the hangar bay.

-=No!=- Vader’s voice echoed in her mind. -=Get as far away from here as you can.=-

What in the hells was he talking about? ‘Why?’

-=Get to Courosant, however you can,=- he told her. -=I will come for you.=-

She didn’t understand what was happening and silently begged him to explain.

Instead of an explanation, Preitha heard a startled yell through her earpiece. She scanned the stars outside her window, craning her neck to spot Vader’s ship. In the space where Black Three had been, there now floated the sparking, smoking wreckage of a destroyed TIE fighter.

She watched in horror as her replacement lost control and went sailing into the trench wall. The repercussive wave sent Vader’s ship into a deadly upward spin, away from the Death Star.

Realization dawned. Preitha knew why he had been so adamant about her removal from the fight.

The rebels were going to win.