Dozens of Rebel ships dropped out of hyperspace over the moon of Endor. Before them loomed the Death Star II, its skeletal frame a grim reminder of the Empire's might. Admiral Ackbar's 'Home One' anchored the center of the fleet, while smaller craft—fighters led by the Millennium Falcon —surged forward for the attack. At the rear, Junker 3 followed, haphazardly assembled from spare parts the Moorjan boys had cobbled together. Less nimble, less armed, but aboard it, Sara and So-mi were ready to give everything. Only one laser cannon on board, but if we need to make the trench run, we will. If we need to screen the fleet, we will .

  Within moments, the Rebel fighters broke off their attack as the trap was revealed. The Death Star was operational. The Imperial Death Squadron, led by the Executor , moved to cut off any chance of escape. The Death Star fired, its superlaser tearing through the Rebel fleet, and the battle began in earnest.

  Sara gripped the cold metal controls, her hands trembling as she tried to navigate the chaos. The Junker rocked violently, nearly throwing her from her seat. The air turned acrid with the smell of scorched metal and overheated systems. Behind her, So-mi cursed furiously as she fought to make combat repairs. "STUPID FUCKING DEFLECTOR SHIELDS! FUCKING HOLD!"

  Sara banked hard as an Imperial Star Destroyer rammed into a GR-75 transport. The massive warship's sheer bulk eviscerated the smaller vessel. Debris scattered like shrapnel, pelting the Junker's hull with metallic pings that reverberated through the cabin. The Star Destroyer, seemingly unfazed, prowled through the carnage like a predator glutted on its feast, its ion cannons and turbolasers blazing with hungry precision.

  Sara's stomach twisted as she watched the crew of the GR-75 ejected into the void, their bodies doomed to freeze and suffocate in the cold expanse of space. Helplessness. That's what this is. No matter what I do, it won't matter. I'm insignificant. All I can do is run and gun and hope I survive.

  Suddenly, Cappy wasn't at the rear of the Junker trying to fix the ship—he was beside her, operating the laser cannon. His attitude was a stark contrast to the grim destruction around them. He was always a fighter, born for this. "EAT VACUUM, IMPERIAL SCRAP!"

  His enthusiasm sparked something in her. One TIE fighter was nothing in the chaos of the battle—there were hundreds, maybe thousands, swarming around them. But he saw the optimism in it. He helped. He did his small part to turn the tide, no matter how minuscule the contribution. Sara turned to him and found herself smiling despite everything. Maybe it's best to focus on the small things we can control—the one or two TIEs we knock out of the sky. "You got him, So-mi. You got him."

  So-mi was already lining up her next shot as Sara banked hard again, dodging more debris. The sudden maneuver threw off So-mi's aim as they lurched forward, but saved them from colliding with wreckage twice their size. An MC-80 cruiser moved in—a Liberty-class vessel, smaller than an Imperial Star Destroyer but still formidable. It unleashed a broadside volley into the Star Destroyer, scorching holes into the Imperial ship's hull with concentrated turbolaser fire. But the MC-80 was no match for its opponent. The Imperial vessel's response was ruthless—a barrage that tore into the Rebel cruiser, sending it careening away trailing debris and venting atmosphere.

  Cappy scowled as he witnessed the exchange, then unleashed the Junker's laser cannon at the Star Destroyer. The small weapon was meaningless against such a massive target, but his face burned with righteous fury as he watched the Imperial vessel continue its harvest. The cabin filled with the sharp scent of ozone as the laser cannon's depleted gas ammunition wafted through the recyclers. The Junker's life support system struggled, no longer able to filter the gases properly. At least it's not toxic... yet .

  Then, suddenly, Cappy was So-mi again, leaping from the gunner's seat and screaming as a pitched whining sound echoed through the ship. Blender felt the controls sputter in her grip as the Junker's forward momentum began to falter. "NO, NOT FUCKING NOW! SARA, THE THRUSTERS ARE GOING OUT AGAIN, AND LIFE SUPPORT IS FAILING!"

  The realization hit Blender like a physical blow. This isn't real. I didn't fight at Endor. So-mi isn't Cappy . As vivid as the dream felt, as real as her adrenaline and fear were, she could see the shimmering edges of the dreamscape at the periphery of her vision—a slight blue haze that seemed to dance just beyond her direct sight. "IT'S FINE! KEEP GUNNING!"

  So-mi looked at her with uncertainty, her face flashing between her own features and Cappy's. "I'M A BETTER MECHANIC THAN A GUNNER!"

  Blender couldn't tear her eyes from the battle—too much debris, too many lasers cutting through space around them. Of course So-mi's a better mechanic. Cappy was the fighter, not her . "THE THRUSTERS WON'T MATTER IF A TIE FIGHTER FLANKS US! GUN NOW!"

  Then it came through the comms, the voice she both longed and dreaded to hear: "This is Silver Leader, starting our run. Let's show these bucketheads how we do it on Moorja."

  Blender's hand shot to the comms panel. "CAPPY, NO! IT'S A TRAP!"

  But it was So-mi behind her now, ignoring her order to take the gun as she frantically worked on the thrusters. So-mi isn't Cappy. She's not a fighter. So-mi screamed over the whine of failing systems, "OUR COMMS TRANSMITTER IS DOWN! HE CAN'T HEAR US!"

  Blender couldn't turn to her. She had to keep her eyes on the battle, even though it was the last thing she wanted to see. The X-wings of Silver Squadron dove toward the Star Destroyer, getting far closer than necessary or wise. Cappy always loved that maneuver. Couldn't resist showing off, no matter the stakes.

  The Imperial-class Star Destroyer—second model—had replaced its point-defense laser cannons with turbolasers. Better for ripping capital ships apart, but normally useless against bombing runs. Rebel pilots had grown accustomed to the ISD-2 being vulnerable to such attacks, but this one wasn't playing by the rules. It banked upward, using the threat of collision to break the Rebel formation, willingly suffering the full effect of the proton bombs if it meant feeling X-Wings break against its armored hull.

  The other X-wings tried swerving to avoid the collision, most unsuccessful. But Cappy—always too close, always too daring—didn't even have time to pull up and rammed directly into the Star Destroyer's hull. The last maneuver Silver Leader would ever make.

  Blender couldn't move. She couldn't scream, couldn't breathe. All she could do was tear her eyes from the battle and look at So-mi, still working on the thrusters, covered in grease as she desperately tried to screw connections back tight. I need to protect her. Her hands moved, not to fight or evade, but to slam the button for hyperspace. The nav computer screamed warnings of an unsafe jump, but she hit it again. The Junker lurched, its hyperdrive screeching in protest, but it worked—this one time, when she needed it most. She was thrown back in her seat as the ship tore forward until it ripped into the realm of hyperspace. I had to run. I couldn't stay in that nightmare.

  Blender opened her eyes, slowly adjusting to the darkness, lulled into momentary security by the gentle hum of the Koiyokan's engines—a sound she had become so accustomed to that normally she couldn't hear it at all. In front of her lay So-mi, sleeping peacefully, her snores louder than Blender had expected. She's here. We're on the Koiyokan. We're safe . But the relief was fleeting.

  We're not safe. We're anything but safe .

  She ran her fingers tenderly through So-mi's soft pink hair as memories of the nebula waiting outside flooded back. I let Blitzer hold me back from being with Cappy at Endor. I won't let him—or anyone—hold me back from being with So-mi now. I can't lose another. I won't.

  *********

  Gazrael struggled to fall asleep. He always did. It had been years since he'd last slept more than three or four hours at a time. Yet this constant wakefulness never seemed to exhaust him like it would others.

  Leonia lay with her head in his lap, her pale skin bathed in the soft purple glow of her lamp, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. Her breathing was so faint that one might mistake her for dead if not for the occasional flutter of her eyelashes. He watched her, acutely aware that even the slightest movement might wake her. It was rare to see her like this: hair disheveled, eyeliner smudged, black lipstick nearly wiped away. Yet somehow, she was no less captivating.

  Is she actually this finely crafted? he wondered. Is she really the most illustrious art the galaxy has ever created, or are my feelings for her transforming how I see her until there's nothing about her that could be improved?

  He reached for her datapad on the edge of the bed, moving with deliberate slowness. I should take a picture of her like this. For posterity. But the slight movement was enough. Her violet eyes snapped open, her body tensed, and her hand shot under the pillow. He recognized the instinctive reach for the knife she kept hidden there. She froze as their eyes met, her lips curving into a soft smile after a moment of recognition.

  "My love, you're so restless," she murmured, her voice teasing yet tender.

  "I'm really not. Just trying to grab the datapad," he replied, keeping his tone even despite the momentary tension.

  Her eyes drifted to the device, and she reached up to caress his face, her touch feather-light but warm. "Darling, you need sleep."

  He shrugged. "Already slept a few hours. That's enough to keep me running for the day."

  She studied his face, her gaze searching for deception before she settled back down. "I've never needed much beauty sleep either." Her hand slid deliberately up her bare leg, a smirk playing at her lips. "Shall we... share our fires again? We may not get another chance to be so intimate."

  Intimate isn't quite the word I'd use to describe our first time , Gazrael thought. It felt more like navigating a storm—moments where she needed complete control, followed by surrendering to something wild and untamed. The rhythm of it all seemed to follow a pattern only she understood . Did he want to do it again? Yes. Was he prepared for it again? No. And they had more pressing matters to address.

  "What do you think we're going to find tomorrow?" he asked, deliberately steering the conversation away from her suggestion.

  Her expression shifted from seductive to irritated, and she pulled the blankets higher. "How would I know? You're the experienced one here, remember?"

  "I'm only a few years older than you, Leonia. How much more experienced at this do you think I am?"

  She reached for her dresser, withdrawing her mirror and makeup case. "You are five years older than me... and I think you're much more experienced than me. In case you forgot, I've only been on the crew for a year."

  "A year and eight days, for a total of four charting missions," he cited without hesitation.

  She paused, lowering her mirror as surprise flickered across her features, followed by a genuine smile that transformed her entire face. "My, oh my, I didn't think I was soooo important that you'd be tracking the days like that," she said, her voice rich with pleasure.

  He rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth in his expression. "That would be a first. Usually, you seem to expect the entire galaxy to bend to your will." Sliding his legs over the side of the bed, he began dressing. Better get the conversation back on track. "Still... we've got a big death cloud we're walking into today. To my knowledge, you and Garrett are the only two with formal education, and I'm certainly not going to ask Garrett about it. You're right here, and you're much prettier than he is, after all."

  Though it's not just her looks , he thought as he watched her begin applying her makeup with practiced precision. It's the way she moves, the way she fights, the way she burns so brightly it's impossible to look away. Even now, with her makeup smudged and her hair a mess, she's the most captivating thing I've ever seen.

  Leonia softened at the compliment. "Imperial Academy doesn't exactly focus on the many things lying in deep space between the galactic plate and the Rishi Maze. Mostly, we talked battle strategy, science, mechanics, and did a lot of active combat drills." Her lips quirked into a half-smile as she tested a shade of midnight blue lipstick. "You want to know the technical spec differences between the first and second model lines of the Imperial-class Star Destroyer, then I'm your girl." She paused to examine her work in the mirror before continuing, her voice taking on a harder edge. "I couldn't tell you the first thing about any big yellow death clouds. The fact that it cuts off our scanners but doesn't show up on them is a pretty big sign we shouldn't be messing with it. That's not natural."

  "So you're with Blitzer in the belief we absolutely should not go inside?" he asked, though he himself wasn't keen on exploring the nebula. The nickname "death cloud" hadn't emerged by accident.

  Leonia fell silent, her hands momentarily stilling as she chose her words with unusual care. "I don't think that cloud is natural, and I suspect the New Republic knows it. That's why they're sending a subspace crew in instead of actual military assets. Let the terrible fate of what's inside fall on us, write it off as standard casualties for subspace charting, and save themselves some ships." It's probably death , she almost added, but stopped herself.

  Gazrael raised an eyebrow. "It's the New Republic, not the Empire. And we have no reason to suspect they knew that cloud was there. No need for the conspiracy talk."

  "New Republic... Empire... same difference," she muttered, her attention seemingly focused on her makeup palette.

  He turned to look at her, genuinely surprised. "You having a change of heart on me now?"

  She shot him an annoyed glance. "I know the rest of you think I'm some hardcore Imperial loyalist, but if that were true, I'd be off on some forsaken backwater, playing junior officer for some Moff-turned-warlord claiming to be the true heir to the throne." She finished her lips and examined her palette, meticulously planning her eye makeup. "Let's just say that while I wasn't a fan of the Empire, I lost a lot when it fell, and the New Republic certainly isn't going to help me get any of that back."

  For a moment, her carefully crafted facade cracked, revealing something raw underneath. I lost my family, my name, my future. All I have left is... him . She glanced at Gazrael, anxiety visibly tightening her features.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  He finished pulling on his boots but remained seated on the bed, waiting for her. "I suppose I just assumed a Tarkin would be quite the loyalist."

  The effect was immediate. Her body went rigid, the palette snapping shut with a sharp click. Her eyes fixed on him with laser-like intensity. "Who told you I'm a Tarkin? Because I certainly fucking didn't."

  "Doesn't matter. What matters is the big death cloud."

  Leonia dropped her makeup case, and her hand slid under the pillow again, finding the knife's handle. When she spoke, her voice had dropped to a predatory growl. "IT FUCKING MATTERS." The sudden volume shift made the small space feel even more confined. "Are you some New Republic spy who's been playing with my heart? Out here to dispose of me while we're in dead space where no one will find me?"

  Gazrael stood quickly, raising his hands in a placating gesture, recognizing the genuine fear beneath her anger. "Garrett told So-mi, Jerec, and me this morning—or earlier. The New Republic is paying him to keep you on the ship. So-mi thinks the New Republic is scared of you."

  She remained frozen, her mind visibly racing behind those violet eyes. I had to tell Garrett my full name to get the cargo girl position. I was hoping his possessive nature would keep him silent, let me control who knows. Her expression darkened. Typical Garrett—he let me down again.

  After a tense moment, she slowly withdrew her hand from beneath the pillow, leaving the knife where it lay, and picked up the makeup palette. Her silence spoke volumes as emotions played across her face like shadows under the purple light.

  Gazrael waited a beat before carefully asking, "Is it bad if I know?"

  "It doesn't fucking matter," she said finally, but her tone lacked conviction. "Anyone who cares about House Tarkin these days is a sentimental idiot."

  "Then why hide that you are one?" Better yet, why reach for that knife if it doesn't matter? he thought, but kept that question unspoken.

  She rolled her eyes, but there was real pain beneath the dismissive gesture. "Do you know what being born into House Tarkin is? It's having your entire life planned by someone else. You start meeting suitors at twelve to be married at eighteen." A visible shudder ran through her as memories surfaced, and her arms wrapped protectively around herself. "It's going to Imperial Academy to become a great officer, no matter what you actually want." Darkness crept into her expression, and for a moment, the gentle bounces of the purple light made her appear almost feral as her fists clenched. "It's constantly being told you're not as great as you should be."

  She slid off the bed and stood by the dresser, her knuckles white from her grip on its edge. "They don't ask you. They don't consult you. They EXPECT you." Each word landed with increasing intensity. "I was twelve, being treated like marrying me was a prize to win while my own father watched as if tradition made it the most ordinary thing he'd seen. It's always being compared to Wilhuff Tarkin. There's no Leonia to them—just a failure of a Tarkin. There's no love. You're just part of a machine that runs on its own insistence that it keeps running."

  Her voice cracked on the last words, and she turned away, unable to meet his gaze. I was the family failure, father's mentally damaged brat. The Rebels would have killed me if I wasn't a failure.

  Gazrael absorbed it all, particularly noting her repeated emphasis on the word "expect." I'll need to remember that. She doesn't like people's expectations of her . "I want you for who you really are," he said with careful sincerity. "I'm not one of them, Leonia."

  "Oh, sure. You just EXPECT me to love the Empire and be some hardcore loyalist for it, right?" The accusation carried the weight of years of similar assumptions.

  He threw his hands up, exasperated. "You were defending the Empire earlier."

  "I was correcting you on the legal rights of the Empire because I know what they are." Her face flushed deeply, visible even through the purple lighting. "I FUCKING WENT TO SCHOOL TO LEARN THAT."

  He shook his head. Not going down that rabbit hole again . "That's a tangent. The point is, I don't expect anything from you for being a Tarkin. I haven't treated you any differently since I learned who you are."

  "You told me you loved me. You fucked me. Those are certainly different than before." Her eyes flicked toward the pillow again, and the knife beneath it.

  He caught that glance, tension coiling in his stomach. She wouldn't actually kill me, would she? She'd miss me too much, he hoped, though not entirely convinced. Though she definitely would consider it. "And you said you knew I loved you before then. And you were right. I did love you. I do love you." He paused, adding with deliberate care, "And if you're going to stab me, know I'll forgive you because I will still love you."

  That last part might be an embellishment , he admitted to himself. I would not forgive her if she actually tried to kill me.

  For a moment, her fingers twitched, and her eyes narrowed on the pillow. Just one quick motion, and I could make sure he'd never keep secrets from me again. But the murderous impulse receded as quickly as it had risen, replaced by a calculating clarity. He's not a New Republic agent... why would I even suspect that? And he loves me. How could he not? I'm the best thing that's ever happened to him, even if he's too dense to see it.

  "A part of me is inside you, always pulling you back to me, like a chemical reaction," she said softly, her voice returning to its usual honeyed tone. "You're right... you loved me long before yesterday." She pushed away from the dresser, spinning gracefully into his arms, which had instinctively opened to catch her. Had he not been ready, she would have crashed to the floor, but some part of him always seemed prepared for her unpredictable movements.

  For a moment, the only sounds were their breaths and the barely perceptible hum of the ship's engines. Finally, Gazrael broke the silence. "Love is pretty important to you, huh?"

  She rested her head against his chest, her body relaxing into his. "The most important thing in the galaxy."

  He held her tightly, but his mind raced with unease. Second time in 24 hours she's considered violence . Though his instinct was to pull away, to create distance between himself and this walking danger, he only tightened his embrace. One wrong word and she might actually get violent with me ...

  His thoughts drifted to So-mi's warning before he'd taken the guns. ‘That girl is going to lead you so far into the darkness that the void will look bright in comparison .' He pushed the memory aside. So-mi doesn't know what she's talking about. Leonia just... she just needs love. She needs to be loved as deeply as she falls in love, and only I accept her as she truly is .

  *************

  Hours later they all stood on the bridge yet again, except Garrett who was still locked away in that storage room.

  "Launching second probe now."

  They all watched, even Leonia held her breath as the droid disappeared through the cloud layer of the nebula. Blender scowled as she looked at the monitor. "We lost contact with it."

  There was a collective sigh and So-mi felt all eyes fall on her. For a second she considered defying the New Republic's orders, would life on the run from the law really be that bad? Everyone else already knew what she would say though, only she doubted herself. She exhaled a long deep breath. "We're going in. Send out a transmission, we're going in now."

  Blitzer's fingers flew across one of the monitors at his piloting seat and turned to So-mi. "Transmission sent."

  So-mi closed her eyes. "Mootranya det skiya. Hit it."

  Leonia leaned in whispering to Gazrael. "What is she saying?"

  "How would I know?"

  As they spoke Blitzer and Blender turned and met each other's eyes, looking for a second as if they were communicating telepathically, before Blender turned back to the viewing port, her hands hovered over the controls for a moment before she directed the ship forward. The front of the Koiyokan pierced the cloud and all power aboard seemed to short circuit, all the lights went off, every instrument panel and scanner on the bridge suddenly displayed a critical error and went dead. So-mi immediately started barking orders. "REVERSE THRUSTERS NOW! GAZRAEL AND JEREC TO THE-"

  She was cut off, as the rear of the ship finished passing through the cloud and the ship passed into the hollow space inside, as if the cloud hadn't ever really been a nebula at all but rather some kind of shielding, a sphere only several feet in thickness that wrapped around its contents like a bubble.

  Any possible relief that could have been felt as the lights quickly came back on and the instruments were returned to power fleeted quickly as Blitzer hit the controls, hooking the vessel sharply to the left, hard enough everyone had to hold something tight not to be knocked over. "EVASIVE MANEUVERS!"

  So-mi was about to question why but then she saw what he did through the viewing port. An Imperial Class Star Destroyer closed in on them and closed in fast and then she realized the one on the starboard side and the one on the port side flanking them and trapping them in a kill box making Blitzer's evasive maneuvers worthless.

  Leonia's eyes flashed forward. 23 seconds. A number she'd been given back in the academy, 23 seconds was all it took for an Imperial Class Star Destroyer to turn an average Corvette into slag if it put all power to the guns, and the Koiyokan being an older model would have weaker shields and she was certain Garrett's modifications undermined the ship's structural integrity. Her eyes flew straight to the comms and she thrust herself from her perch as she ran, not a second too soon as green flashes started poking through the viewing port, undoubtedly turbo lasers locking on to their target and firing.

  "SHIELDS UP!" So-mi screamed.

  Blitzer screamed back. "THEY'RE ALREADY UP!"

  The ship lurched violently, throwing Leonia off-balance as Blitzer cut hard to starboard, desperately trying to evade the concentrated fire. The maneuver would have done nothing against a single ISD, let alone three, but instinct drove him to try. The Koiyokan's shields absorbed the first volley of turbolaser fire, but the impact shook the vessel to its core, power systems screeching in protest as they struggled to maintain the barrier.

  Leonia regained her footing through sheer determination, her years of gymnastics training evident in her balance. So-mi wasn't so fortunate—she tumbled into Leonia's path as the ship rocked again. They collided, but before Leonia could fall, strong hands gripped her shoulders, steadying her. Gazrael. He'd anticipated her move and was right behind her, reaching past her to slam his fist against the comms panel.

  "THIS IS MOFF TARKIN OF THE KOIYOKAN."

  The ship continued to shake violently around them. Metal tore and screamed as the lower levels were blasted away. Another deafening crash announced the destruction of the observation deck. Leonia turned toward Gazrael, ready to throw herself into his arms for what she was certain would be their final embrace—when suddenly the barrage ceased, and the comms crackled to life.

  "This is the Gorgon , we must apologize, Moff Tarkin, we were not expecting your visit. We'll pull you in so you can speak with the admiral."

  "No, tell them that won't be necess-" Blender was cut off as the ship lurched forward, caught in the Gorgon's tractor beam. "FUCK!"

  Blitzer turned to his sister. "I don't think they intended to give us much choice in the matter." His eyes darted to the monitoring screens, assessing the damage. "We're lucky we're alive. The bottom two floors are gone, the starboard elevator is locked down to keep the ship sealed... the observation deck is gone, that entire hallway will be inaccessible now that the hold doors have activated to keep us pressurized." He exhaled sharply. "And the engines are fucked."

  So-mi stood silently processing the information before whirling on Leonia, her hand raised to strike. Gazrael intercepted, grabbing her wrist and twisting it aside. "WHAT FUCKING TRAP DID YOU JUST LEAD US INTO!" So-mi shouted, her face contorted with rage.

  Leonia's cheeks flushed crimson. "I'M THE REASON YOU'RE STILL FUCKING ALIVE RIGHT NOW!"

  "OH I'M SURE YOU ARE MOFF TARKIN!" So-mi struggled against Gazrael's grip, but he held firm.

  "You calm the fuck down right now," he said, his voice dangerously controlled despite the anger evident in his rigid posture. He wouldn't let anyone harm Leonia, especially not after her quick thinking had just saved them all.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Blender rising from her pilot's seat. He braced himself, expecting the tall, muscular woman to join the fray, but instead she approached with surprising calm, placing a steadying hand on So-mi's shoulder.

  "Gazrael is right... we need to calm down. We're trapped in an Imperial tractor beam and being pulled onto a star destroyer. This isn't the time for fighting."

  So-mi's furious gaze shifted to Blender. "OH SO IT'S JUST A BIG COINCIDENCE THEY WANT TO TALK TO HER?"

  Leonia, characteristically unintimidated by So-mi's aggression, extended her hand to examine her nails with affected casualness. "Well of course they want to speak to me." Her voice took on a dreamy, self-satisfied tone. "Who wouldn't?"

  "Most normal people," Blender replied without hesitation, earning a venomous glare from Leonia. She turned back to So-mi, her voice softening. "She tried attacking Garrett when he told us the New Republic was sending us to investigate, remember? If she was trying to lure us here, why would she do that? Why would the orders have come from the New Republic?"

  So-mi blinked as the logic penetrated her anger. Her arm gradually relaxed in Gazrael's grip. "You're right... doesn't add up that she'd lead us here." She exhaled heavily, the adrenaline and fear flowing through her like poison. "Power down everything we can. Everyone to the cargo bay, we'll have to use the cargo lift to exit the ship."

  Leonia smirked. "The Koiyokan won't fit in the underbelly hangar bay. They'll pull us into their Corvette dock and try to enter through the portside airlock by bridge extension."

  So-mi turned to her skeptically. "You certain about that?"

  Leonia shrugged. "It's what I would do."

  Ah, that's what the psychotic brat would do. Very reassuring . So-mi turned to Jerec. "Grab Garrett. We're dragging him with us."

  "Hope he fucking died up there," Leonia muttered as Jerec left to complete his task.

  The emergency lights bathed the bridge in an eerie orange glow as they made their way out. The door to the recreation room opened with a pitched whine rather than its usual smooth hiss. Inside, the room was in disarray, small objects scattered violently across the floor from the battle. Jerec broke left to retrieve Garrett using the elevator, while So-mi led the rest down the dimly lit corridors.

  The acrid smell of burning rubber, scorched metal, and ozone grew stronger as they approached the airlock. Through its small viewing ports, they could see the massive hangar bay—too small for the Koiyokan, but large enough for their impending captivity. Imperial troops lined up in formation as a scaffolding bridge extended to connect with their airlock.

  So-mi clenched her trembling hand, hoping to steady it, but the anxiety coursing through her only intensified.

  Moments later, Jerec arrived with Garrett in tow. Garrett locked eyes with So-mi, his lips curling into a smug smile. "You're doing such a great job as captain. Truly outstanding for your first 24 hours."

  "Shut the fuck up and get in position," she replied, her voice flat despite the acid pooling in her stomach. The sensation of failure washed over her, though she knew even under Garrett's leadership, they'd have faced the same fate.

  Garrett positioned himself directly beside Leonia in the narrow hallway. She immediately moved away, placing Gazrael between them, and shot Garrett a withering look. "Personal space mean anything to you, Captain Creeper?"

  "Just reminding Gazrael he's playing with my toys," Garrett smirked. It was the first time he'd deliberately tried to provoke her, and his success was immediate. Gazrael's arms shot out to restrain Leonia as she lunged forward, her mind lost in another violent fantasy.

  Leonia saw herself slamming his head repeatedly into the wall. He was already dead, but she kept going as more blood spurted from the wound. Pieces of bone broke apart and spilled out as she continued the assault, not stopping until his skull itself fractured, his brain matter spilling over her hands. Only then did she feel content with herself.

  Garrett smiled at the blank expression that overtook Leonia's face as her body strained against Gazrael's restraint. He wondered if she knew she made that face during her episodes, when her damaged mind temporarily disconnected from reality. He was certain he could shatter her self-esteem if he pointed it out, but before he could speak, Blender's fist connected with his face. A sickening crack announced his shattered nose and dislocated jaw.

  Garrett would have done well to remember that Leonia wasn't the only woman present who might take issue with his remarks.

  Before anyone could react further, the entire ship shook violently. Leonia snapped out of her violent trance, her eyes flashing from rage to uncertainty. "We're docked... they're gonna be expecting me."

  As quickly as she had flown into her blood rage, she transformed. Her posture straightened, shoulders relaxed, and expression smoothed into calm alertness. She slipped effortlessly into the role of an Eriaduan princess—a part she hadn't played since her father had shipped her to the Imperial Academy, but one she remembered with perfect precision. Stand straight, relax your shoulders, don't show emotion unless asked, hands cupped in front of your chest . The hardest element was her carriage—prim and proper, delicate yet commanding. Her mother had spent countless hours drilling her on this exact bearing.

  So-mi watched with fascination as Leonia's typical bratty arrogance melted away, replaced by something more refined and controlled. She waited for Leonia's slight nod before hitting the airlock release. The doors opened with a grinding screech of metal against metal, the sound forcing everyone to cover their ears.

  "Leonia in front, so she looks in charge," So-mi muttered. "Stick in a tight formation." She nudged Leonia forward to take the lead.

  They crossed the bridge that spanned the void of space, with only a humming blue magnetic shield between them and the vacuum. Leonia stepped onto the hangar bay floor first, facing hundreds of stormtroopers standing at attention in ceremonial formation. The sight stirred something like nostalgia in her—a reminder of a time when she had truly been important, or rather, when others had properly acknowledged her importance. Despite the vast assembly, the hangar was so quiet that the only sounds were her crewmates' footsteps as they formed a protective cluster behind her.

  Blender was the last to leave the bridge, ensuring Garrett moved into formation with them. On cue, a woman began making her way through the ranks of stormtroopers. The rhythmic clicking of her heels on the metal deck was the only sound, echoing throughout the cavernous space as if the Star Destroyer itself were announcing her arrival.

  The woman wore a crisp green admiral's uniform, her hair a startling copper that seemed to burn with its own inner light. She moved past the stormtroopers as though they were mere set dressing, flanked by several black-armored death troopers and shock troopers with distinctive red highlights on their white armor.

  Leonia felt a momentary pang of insecurity. She wasn't dressed as a Moff would be, her crew looked like common spacers, and Garrett was still bleeding profusely from Blender's punch. If I were her, I certainly wouldn't believe I was truly approaching an Imperial Moff. But her anxiety eased somewhat when she noticed the stormtroopers all carried bayonets mounted to their E-11 blasters—a deviation from standard Imperial ceremonial procedure. At least the Imperials aren't perfectly presentable either .

  Her relief was short-lived. The death troopers and shock troopers completed their approach, positioning themselves much closer than regulation would permit. They encircled the crew in an unmistakable pattern. Leonia maintained her composed expression, but internally recognized the danger. They're bracing for a struggle .

  The Imperial commander stopped directly in front of her. At this proximity, Leonia could see streaks of grey threading through the woman's copper hair, markers of age and experience. Something about her seemed oddly familiar, though Leonia couldn't place why. The commander extended her hand in formal greeting.

  "I am Admiral Daala, welcome aboard the Gorgon."

  Leonia extended her own hand, speaking with aristocratic confidence that effectively masked her growing apprehension. "Moff Tarkin, of Eriadu."

  Daala's face remained impassive, but her voice carried a note of quiet resignation. "That's what I was afraid of."

  Leonia felt the stun bolt hit her without warning. Multiple discharges rang out around her—they'd shot the entire crew simultaneously. She stumbled forward, barely catching herself as her muscles weakened from the impact. Her body fought against the stunning effect, a fury building within her. You dare stun me, you fucking bitch?

  Admiral Daala crouched beside her, her expression now openly skeptical as she studied Leonia's face. "You wouldn't believe how much trouble you're in."

  Another stun bolt struck Leonia, and everything went black.