Chapter 7
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CHAPTER Seven:

Captain Xavier was panting for breath by the time he and Commander Tigris reached the level where the FELIX had been docked for their stay at Antares. Given the nature of the assault on the station, neither Marc nor his chief had wanted to risk ending up stranded on the 'lifts. Still, Marc hadn't expected hurrying through the Jeffries tubes following Lanna's lead to be so exhausting. Maybe Zannah was right, and he did need to work on physical aspects of his Jedi training other than just lightsaber combat.

"Come on," Lanna snapped, reaching down to help the captain out of the crawlspace. Marc accepted the Klingon hybrid's aid gratefully.

"Th--thanks." He took a deep breath. "Not far now?"

"Not far at all--"

"Captain Xavier!"

Both officers turned, startled to see Commander Costran Kylee running down the corridor toward them. To the captain's disgust, neither Costran nor Lanna were anywhere near as winded as he was. "The admiral's ordered all hands to the nearest available ship. Is the FELIX still here, or did she launch?"

"She's still here. This way." Lanna didn't waste any time, turning and jogging toward the dock where they had left their ship. Costran merely arched a brow at the panting fox and grabbed his arm, hauling him along behind her.

The captain took a deep breath and, ignoring the way his legs wobbled with each step, broke into a slow jog in their wake. When this mess was over, he was going to start running laps around the gym with the twins strapped to his back . . .

The trembling maze of corridors that Commander Tigris led them through had been largely devoid of life, but as the trio drew closer to the FELIX's berth they began to encounter more personnel. Many of the faces in the crowd of furs heading toward the FELIX from intersecting halls were familiar. Somewhere in the sea, Marc spotted Ensign Wilier with Commander Fuhrer and Ensign Walick. Others were less familiar - a mongoose in a scientist's blue-collared uniform, even a few furs in civilian dress. The captain and both commanders pushed through the crowd waiting to board, hurrying to the head of the line. "Commander Costran, if you wouldn't mind assisting these people in boarding while we get to the bridge?" Marc asked, his voice hoarse from the run.

The Bajoran didn't waste any time. She was already directing the flow of traffic. The captain turned, but the only glimpse he saw of Lanna was her back as she raced for Engineering. His jaw hardening, Marc began a second race - this time for the bridge. "Please let Lizzy have made it back," he muttered under his breath as he boarded the 'lift for the bridge. "Please . . ." So focused was the captain on thoughts of his wife, he didn't even think of the danger to Perdia and Zannah, trapped in the admiral's office by Rikes' own order.

"Captain!" Cyber shot out of the captain's chair as Marc hurried onto the bridge, Commander Fuhrer right behind him. "The crew is on its way. We were able to contact all of them before they started firing. There's at least twelve Star Destroyers out there, and--" The blue-furred hare gripped the armrest of the chair as the FELIX shuddered with the impact of another major assault on the space station's shielding. "We're going to have to launch soon. Our own shielding can't take as much damage as the station's."

Marc slid into his chair, nodding in reluctant assent. In any other circumstances, he would stay until every member of his crew was back on board, but Rikes' harsh opinion of his behavior was still ringing in his ears. "How many are we missing?"

"About 8% of the crew reported in from other ships, sir," Lt. Haith reported. The snow leopard was trying to monitor the ship's operations from his station at the tactical console "That leaves about 11% of our crew on the station, not including those boarding now."

"Commander Costran from the ORISKANY is helping with the boarding process. Tell her we're taking off as soon as she has the crowd on board."

"Yes sir."

Marc looked around the bridge, noting the personnel gaps. "Lt. Haith, step aside. Deano--take Tactical. Raymond, keep the helm; Cyber, Ops." Much to the captain's relief, no one questioned the new orders. After the lecture he'd received from the admiral, Xavier had half expected to hear arguments over every decision he made. "Lt. Raymond -- set a course for the nearest Starfleet battle group. And avoid those Star Destroyers!"

"Yes, sir," the raptor muttered under his breath, silently praising his natural skin tone. At least nobody would be able to tell he was feeling green about flying something of the FELIX's size just by looking at him . . .

"Admiral Rikes?" The grey-furred mouse who manned one of the many stations in the ORISKANY's CIC looked up from his console, a confused look on his face. "Sir . . . if my readouts are correct, we have a secure vector to get small craft through their defensive parameter."

A second officer raised her shaggy head. "Sir, I can corroborate that report. We have an opening." Her ears flopped as she shook her head. "I don't understand, they were winning . . . what are they trying to accomplish?"

Rikes' eyes widened and he paused for the briefest of moments to analyze the data the two officers projected. The tactical wheels spinning in his head were practically visible as he thought out a course of action.

"Rikes to fleet!" he barked abruptly, leaning forward and tightening his grip on the arms of his command seat. "STONEWALL and APPALACHIA, you're through for now, keep on your present course. TEXAS, REVERENCE, AARDVARK, and PARIS, you're up - I'm sure you can all see the gap those Imps have left in their defense. Get in there, target their shield generators! All starfighter groups, I want you to start taking out the blaster turrets!"

The commanders of the four attacking ships confirmed their orders, and with the rest of the battlegroup advancing behind them, the smaller, faster ships were indeed able to loop in around the slower, more sluggish ISDs. Like piranhas harrying cattle, the tiny Federation starfighters began to take out the Imperial midsize ships one by one.

Rikes held his breath and prayed as the red "enemy" blips on his command center's HUD began to disappear faster than the friendly green ones.

Admiral Fayse swore loudly as an explosion rocked the TOTALITARIAT's deck, nearly knocking him off his feet. He hauled himself upright, slapping at an officer who attempted to assist him.

"Get off me, you dolt! I want a report, and I want it now, or you'll be stripped of your rank and your dignity faster than you can say 'Sithspit,'" he snarled. "That was too close. Our fighters aren't flying tight enough. Reissue orders. I want that 'fleeter battlegroup wiped from the face of this galaxy today, Captain..."

The space around Antares was thick with ships, debris clouds, and beams of coherent light. The FELIX pulled away from the dock smoothly enough considering the chaos, and was immediately inundated by the battle. Raymond's skill at piloting did him credit, as he managed to avoid all but a few glancing strikes while he maneuvered the ship towards the chosen battlegroup. There was simply too much activity to avoid everything, but they fared better than the hapless Nova class which had been docked in the next berth over.

The Nova class, answering to USS THESSALIAN, was slow pulling away from the station and caught the full brunt from a Lancer class frigate's firepower across its broadside. Shields failed under the onslaught, and the hull plating beneath vaporized as turbolasers smashed full on into the unprotected ship. The THESSALIAN listed drunkenly as it spun slowly away from Antares and the battle, gouting debris, atmosphere, and fire into the vacuum of space with its death throes. Cooling beads of hull metal drifted in its wake, almost pretty if one did not consider the carnage that had created them.

Aboard the FELIX there was no time to acknowledge the THESSALIAN's death. The captain and crew were too busy focusing on the task of keeping their own ship from following suit.

"Sir?"

The officer of the pit glanced down the row of technicians that lined the long walk of the TOTALITARIAT's bridge. The young officer who had flagged him so nervously was a small mouse who had been nothing but trouble since being assigned to his duty crew. He was hardly the Imperial ideal - a timid creature who was rarely brave enough to assert his opinion and whose miserable failures at physical training seminars had made him the joke of the ship.

"What is it?" the badger growled, his heavy bootfalls echoing off of the metal-plated floor. The mouse gave a squeak, straightening his wrinkled uniform tunic in a futile attempt to pass muster. "Well?"

"This--this data, sir." The mouse swallowed past the lump in his throat and pointed to the screen. Rows of data were lined up in precise fashion, ready for the pit officer's inspection. The columns had been organized by the mouse based on the information trickling in from the battlefield. "We've . . ." The mouse tried again, his voice cracking. "We've experienced a 15% drop in personnel performance in the last ten minutes, sir."

"What?" The younger officer's habitual transgressions were momentarily forgotten, the badger scanning the numbers that flashed by on screen, desperately searching for some mistaken calculation or misplaced decimal. "This isn't possible," the badger finally growled. "You must be mistaken."

Sweat dampened the mouse's drab brown fur, his beady eyes for once meeting the gaze of his commanding officer. "Sir, the information is correct. Computers can't lie about this sort of thing. If we continue to follow the projected trajectory in the next thirty minutes, then the Federation fleet will wi--"

The badger's hands wrapped around the mouse's throat, choking him to silence. "Guards," he snapped at the stormtroopers stationed at either end of the pit. "The lieutenant is suspected of treason." All activity at the nearby terminals froze as the ears of other officers swiveled in their direction. "Take him to the detention deck. He will be interrogated later at the captain's leisure."

"Sir." The stormtroopers saluted before they dragged the shaking mouse away.

"What are all of you looking at?" the badger hissed. "Get back to work. The Emperor doesn't pay us to stand idly by on the day of his greatest victory over the Federation." With activity levels slowly returning to normal, the badger shot a furtive glance toward where the captain and admiral stood, then slid into the mouse's vacated seat. There was no way that the data could be accurate - Imperial officers didn't just stop performing. Besides, if any of the lieutenant's reports survived, they'd be sharing a cell for the rest of their remarkably short lives . . .

Green and red lights played off of the polished surface of the long table in the center of the admiral's conference room like fireworks in a dark sky. The lighting instruments inside of Antares had failed a long time ago – not surprising, considering they were shoddy 'fleeter work and not the sturdy jobs Stone was used to dealing with.

His cell at the Imperial penal colony on Hoth would have fit into the room ten times over, but with every passing volley of phaser fire from the battle outside, Sam could feel the walls pressing in around him.

There was no way the 'fleeters could win. The Imperial fleet was too large, too overpowering. They would die as quickly as Kithain's Rebels had, and this time there was nothing Stone could do to save his own hide. He had no ship and, he reminded himself as his hand passed over his empty holster, no blaster. The phaser he held in his other hand was surely inferior to the blasters he was used to carrying.

The viewports along the far wall shuddered with the force of an explosion that rumbled through the corridors, sending chills down Stone's spine. He'd never admit it out loud, but the 'fleeters had done a good job building their shipyards to last. They'd survived six such explosions since the start of the battle, but no amount of finger-waggling could keep the thing together forever.

"I'm going to die," he muttered under his breath. "I'm going to die in a kriffing Feddie playland like a piece of dianoga dung with no ship, no blaster, no booze, and no women!" The lion paused and glanced sideways at the creepy pair seated by the viewports. If the explosions had bothered them, nothing had shown it. They still sat there with their hands clenched tightly together and peaceful expressions on their faces.

"All right, maybe there's women," Stone grumbled, "but they sure as hell ain't acting like 'em."

Another explosion rocked the room, knocking the lion into one of the conference table's chairs. Sam didn't bother to look for their guard – the coward had fled to 'seek medical attention' as soon as he'd come to and found that his phaser was now Sam's personal property.

Of course, that was only because he had nowhere to run to.

Stone looked over at the two women as he extracted himself from the surprisingly cushy chair. He didn't have a ship, but they did.

"It's time to blow this joint," he growled, stalking over and grabbing the smaller one by the shoulder. "Anna. Hannah. Whatever the hell your name is, woman, it's not naptime!"

Without warning, the vixen reacted to Sam's touch. One moment she was locked into the same trance that still gripped the younger woman, and the next she was striking out. The mercenary jerked back from her a fraction of a second too late, and a small fist connected solidly with his gut. Faster than average reflexes saved him from a follow up on the first attack, but only just barely. Sam backed off a safe distance, rubbing at the hit as he stared at her. "What the frag are you people?" He was used to being able to see attacks coming, but the vixen had slipped through his guard almost faster than he could counter.

Zannah gave herself a little shake as recognition leaked back into her eyes. She scowled at Sam. "Don't touch me."

The lion glared back at her. "You hit me!"

Her ears twitched back. "So? Try that again and I'll do worse than that." Zannah turned back to Perdia, wracking her mind for ways to break her apprentice out of her trance-locked state without injuring one or both of them.

Sam made an exasperated noise. "Look, I don't care if you are spicers. We have to get out of here." Phaser and turbolaser fire from the battle splashed red, gold, and green light across his fur.

"You think I don't know that?" Zannah snapped back at him. "I'm not leaving without Perdia."

"That's easy enough." Sam moved as if to pick the girl up, but the vixen stepped into his path.

"No. Don't touch her. I don't know what moving her now will do," she warned him.

Sam snorted. "She's just blissed out on glit. Let her sleep it off in hyperspace."

Zannah ground her teeth at the obstinate pirate. "It is not a spice coma," she told him flatly as she turned away, pointedly ignoring him. In order to get the answers she needed, she was going to have to rejoin the link - to run the risk of losing herself to it forever. Zannah glanced at the battlefield again, grinding her teeth together. They were running out of time and options. "You wake us up again if things get worse, lion," she warned as she settled back into the link. Mind to mind, cut off from the physical world, Zannah pressed her apprentice for answers.

Lt. Timur Chikariv slid into his chair before the Antares weapon console, the brown bear's face drawn tight with worry. His fingers flew over the familiar controls, eyes darting over the screen as it spat reams of data that would have overwhelmed someone unused to handling this particular station. For Chikariv, this was his baby. "Sir!" he snapped at the commanding officer. "There aren't enough open vectors to fire. If we bring the phasers online now, we'll fry more friendlies than anything else."

Chikariv could hear someone's palm smack against a control behind him, at Ops. "All vessels, this is Commander Boothe. All Starfleet vessels are to depart Antares space station, effective immediately. I repeat: this is Commander Boothe. All Starfleet vessels are to launch immediately!" The comm lines crackled to life with confirmation and approval of the order from on board ORISKANY, the static-laden words of Admiral Rikes punctuated by the shift in data as Chikariv's console tracked the launch of hundreds of vessels ranging in size from runabouts to a Galaxy that had been delaying launch until it had finished loading itself to capacity with station personnel fleeing the assault.

"Give them fifteen seconds to clear your firing vectors, lieutenant," the deck officer snapped. Chikariv wasn't sure if he acknowledged the order or not - his attention was fixed on the calculations necessary to fire the weapons on something so large as the Antares space station without unintentionally blowing up someone who was there to offer them aid.

"Lieutenant Chikariv - fire."

The brown bear took a deep breath and keyed in the necessary firing sequence, his phasers painting the starfield blood red to the cheers of the crew.

Admiral Fayse stared in absolute silence as the field beyond the viewports lit with red from the space station's weapons banks. A slight frown marred the armadillo's forehead, but he had no opportunity to issue orders. The phaser fire slammed into one of the second battle group's heavy strike cruisers, which had been targeting a vessel trapped in dry dock.

"My lord admiral, we're receiving reports of heavy damage--"

The officer of the watch was cut off mid-report as the strike cruiser in question exploded, the debris of the shattered hull slamming into other vessels that had been in close formation.

For one long moment, the bridge was deathly quiet.

Fayse took a deep breath, his eyes still fixed on the point where only wreckage remained. "Captain, order battle group three to withdraw from its assault on the station."

"Sir."

The armadillo's gaze flicked to his screen with its IFF beacon displays, watching the indicators for two more of his smaller craft flicker and die while the third battle group began a messy retreat. The admiral ground his teeth in frustration. At least the larger cruisers were still attempting to engage the enemy as they pulled back. Even withdrawing, they packed enough power to cause serious damage to any Federation vessel unlucky enough to get caught in their path as they blasted their way back to the main body of the Imperial fleet.

Heartened by the Imperial withdrawal, Federation forces pressed forward to harry the aggressors. The captain of the carrier EAGLE, who had been champing at the bit to join the action, ordered his own ship in to assist. It was a brash move, and not the most tactically sound choice for a carrier. The slower moving ship instantly became a target for a withering hail of turbolaser fire.

"Captain," an ensign called out, voice filled with tension. "Port shields are down, taking heavy damage to the hull on that side!"

"Damn," the man cursed, realizing his miscalculation against the larger Imperial cruisers. "Scramble the Nighthunters. We need fighter support." The shielded heavy bombers ought to help even the odds in their favor.

"Yes, sir!"

Fighter craft began to pour from the EAGLE's bay, hurrying to join the fray before opposing fire could damage the carrier further.

"That'll give 'em something to think about!" Captain Ricu mused aloud as the bombers began their first run against the ship targeting the EAGLE with the heaviest fire.

Zannah gasped as she joined her apprentice on the mental plane, trying to make sense of the chaos that swirled around them. When Stone had pulled her away from the link, Perdia had forced herself deeper into the mechanics of the battle. Trying to find her way within it alone was overwhelming.

'Perdia... what do you see?'

'Too many,' came the reply.

The jumbled sensation of ships massing to attack, full of beings brimming with charged emotions, both friend and foe, threatened to overwhelm the girl. 'Let me help.' Zannah reached for the confusing mass of images and sensations, sorting them into simplified groupings of friend and enemy like an organic tactical computer. She forced down her own panicked reaction to the Imperial presence at Antares, swallowing a surge of terror at the thought of capture and death at the hands of the Sith. 'Didn't we just leave this party?' she thought acidly to herself. A sick feeling settled in her stomach as the outmost edge of friendly dots began to flicker and wink out through the Force. Helplessness washed over her. 'Got to do something!'

Zannah was unsure whether the thought originated with her or Perdia. All she knew was a consuming desire to fight back. Just like two years before, the two Jedi reached out together to enter the battle, only this time it was Perdia who took the lead, much to her teacher's surprise. It felt to Zannah as though her apprentice had encompassed the battlefield with a massive sphere of responsibility. Friendly ships within that sphere stopped dying, pulling together instead and coordinating their attacks and defenses better, fighting back harder. The enemy's performance dropped off in comparison, the Imperial ships falling into confusion as fire from the Federation pushed them back from Antares. That Perdia was hardly an expert in space combat did not matter. Her power was energizing those who were among Starfleet's forces. Zannah was pulled along for the ride, her own power coupled to Perdia's, amplifying the affect on the battle. For a change, the vixen had almost no control over their link. She could feel Perdia drawing on her experience as well as her power, using it to shape the battle's results.

'Perdia, what is this?' Horror lanced through Zannah's mind, sending her physical body into convulsions severe enough to force Stone to catch her. Untrained as she was, denied access to the Jedi Temple, she still knew of the techniques that had made the Jedi Council such a force to be reckoned with before the Purges. This -- Kain had spoken of it, as had her training master in the Lemorian court. 'Battle Meditation . . . Perdi, you have to stop. Neither one of us is powerful enough to control this!'

The feline Jedi was completely caught up in the web she had woven. When Zannah tried to rattle the link between them, she received no response beyond the steady draw as her own apprentice drew her power into herself. 'PERDIA!'

Her apprentice continued to act as though she had not heard. Zannah could feel the effects of what Perdia was doing. The meditation was forcing the panic that had been lancing through her veins to subside into rational calm. She knew that unless she could fight free or gain control of their Force bond, Perdia might well kill them both with their effort. Even if they survived, the surge of power was overwhelming. If there were any Sith or Hunters in the fleet that even now was attacking . . . Reaching out through the Force, Zannah fought to use the imposed state of detachment against her padawan. 'Ease down,' she instructed them both, cutting herself off carefully from their bond to slow the flow of raw power. 'Look at it this way,' she drew Perdia's mental presence to a different angle of the battlefield, showing her the victories that Starfleet was gaining bit by bit further away from the station. 'They're doing fine. You don't need to control every aspect of the battle, just the overall outcome. Ease back.' This time it seemed that some of her words filtered through the raw power that made the girl shine through the Force. The power drain slowly decreased, even though Perdia showed no signs of shaking off her trancelike state.

'Go while you can.' They were the first words Perdia had spoken to her since the lion had interrupted their linked state. The Lemorian wasn't even given time to process what the girl was trying to tell her before she was thrust violently from her mind. Zannah's eyes shot open on a yelp as she flew from Perdia's side, sending her crashing into the conference table with a muffled curse as she was thrown by unseen hands. Stone was staring at her as if he'd seen a monster.

"Don't even start," Zannah growled, grabbing her cane and pushing to her feet. "Grab her if you can, and let's go. There's no time."

"I ain't touchin that freak, and you can't make--"

Zannah's ears flattened against her skull as the phaser lifted neatly from Stone's hand to settle into her own palm, pointing it at him steadily. "I said pick her up."

Sam growled and tossed Perdia onto his shoulder, jostling the girl roughly as he hauled her to the door. Zannah didn't comment on the rough treatment. She was too grateful that no catastrophic damage had been inflicted upon him through the Force just for touching her apprentice. The lion paused halfway through the door to sneer in Zannah's direction. "You'll regret this later, Shorty."

"You have no idea," Zannah murmured, limping along in their wake.

A Miranda-class vessel interposed itself between the powerful batteries of the Imperial Star Destroyer AGRAGATOR and a smaller ship in her battlegroup. The smaller sister vessel's shields failed for a moment, but they were protected enough to give the engineers time to effect repairs. The CAROLINA shuddered under the hail of fire poured on by Imperial Turbolazers. The shields shimmered as they reacted to each bolt, nearly obscuring the discus-shaped ship.

The smaller ship darted out of the lea of the larger CAROLINA and dove into the fray. The Carolina's engines sped up, pushing the Starfleet vessel away from the firing solution of the ISD, shields shimmering as Hell's own fury continued to rain down on them. Sheilds failing, they picked up speed and momentum, sliding away from their attackers in the direction of the TOTALITARIAT.

A final burst of turbolazer fire impacted the CAROLINA's shields, finally breaching them. The impulse engines blew, altering the course of the CAROLINA and sending it careening into the TOTALITARIAT. The raised bridge section of the Carolina sheared off in a fireball as the two ships collided.

Klaxon sirens wailed to life, bouncing eerily against the transparisteel and metal interior of the TOTALITARIAT's bridge. The ship shuddered as all of the major systems that had been momentarily knocked out started up anew, illuminating the faces of the bridge crew in a series of flickers before the lighting systems were fully restored. There was chaos throughout the bridge, but it was largely controlled. The well-drilled Imperial crews were putting out the minor fires that had been started by equipment that overheated with the power surge and generally putting themselves back in order, including providing aid to the officers who had been injured when their ship was struck.

On the raised bridge platform, Admiral Fayse shoved the captain's too-helpful arm aside and surged to his feet. The portly armadillo's jaw quivered with barely leashed rage. "I want a damage report, now!"

"Sir." The closest officer gave the best salute he could with his hand hanging oddly from a broken wrist. "Secondary diagnostic systems are offline. Without those systems we will not be able to provide a--"

"Do I look like I care?" Fayse roared. "Tell me what they've done to my ship!"

The officers surrounding the admiral exchanged uneasy glances. "Uh--yessir," the injured beagle stammered. "We've lost partial shielding in some sectors, and others are still suffering from power loss and fire. The full scale of the damage cannot be assessed until--"

The admiral turned his back on the injured canine. "Contact Captain Lene and Captain Kenawch at once. I need to notify them of their new orders."

"Sir?" Captain Tryzk asked cautiously. "Our orders from Grand Admiral Khal'Saad were very explicit. To deviate from his plan would be--"

"The grand admiral is not here." Fayse waved the captain's concerns aside with a dismissive sneer. "Redirect all firepower to the station. If they're so eager to destroy their own equipment, we'll give them a taste of what real devastation is."

More than one officer's typical parade ground mask had given way to alarm. "But Admiral Fayse, Khal'Saad ordered us to preserve the station at all costs--"

Fayse froze the aide in place with a single glare. "I am the admiral in charge. You will follow my orders, or I will turn you in to the intelligence beaureau for a full investigation on treasonous activities." The armadillo kept his voice soft, his words sending ice through all their veins. "Am I clear?"

"C-clear, milord admiral." Another officer scurried to one of the few communications terminals that remained intact. "I'll put you through to them right away."

While the admiral and his staff watched, six of the Imperial-class Star Destroyers that had blanketed the Antares starfield with green blaster fire slowly pivoted, deadly dancers in precision formation. As one, flanked by the smaller craft that formed their support network, the daggerhead-shaped vessels opened fire on the battered needle of the Antares space station. Green light skittered across shielding systems, outlining the failing sections of the massive station with fires that ended as quickly as they began, flame swallowing the heartbeat's worth of vented oxygen.

The muted roar of hundreds of officers' voices filled the bridge as one gunnery team found their mark, a brilliant explosion splashing against the side of the station, destroying one of the deadly phaser arrays which had picking off Imperial corvettes and lancers throughout the battle. "Report," Fayse ordered calmly, his grasp on his temper improving with each envisioned 'fleeter death.

"Shields are dropping on the station, Admiral Fayse. I cannot provide a trajectory due to our limited sensor arrays, but--"

"Sir, preliminary reports place shield loss on the station at an estimate of 40% and falling."

Fayse chuckled at the stunned look on the captain's face. "Order all ships to continue firing at will."

"But the station, admiral--"

"The Emperor wants a war," Fayse chided, a smile on his face. "Let's give him one."

The EAGLE and her consorts tried desperately to open the range between them and the devastating firepower of the Imperial fleet. As she maneuvered to keep her ravaged port side away from the incoming waves of destruction, her remaining escorts wove a complicated path around her, intercepting and drawing off some of the withering fire. Despite the increasing range and the supreme effort of her escorts, turbolaser blasts continued to slam into her shields.

"Bring us to heading two-seven-nine mark one-five," Captain Ricu ordered the ensign at helm, "Engineering, I need more speed. We need to draw back out of range before we're pounded to scrap."

"We're already halfway there," he muttered before responding, "Sir, the secondary impulse drives were trashed and the primary coolant units are down to thirty percent. The main drives can't give us any more without melting down."

'Damn,' Ricu thought, 'These carriers just can't stand up in combat.'

The EAGLE's group slipped away from the main Imperial fleet on an oblique angle, finally passing out of effective range. The bridge crew breathed a collective sigh as the turbolaser fire began to slacken. They continued to open the distance while keeping away from the second Imperial group that was retreating from the punishing fire of Antares station.

"Helm, swing us around parallel to their heading," Ricu said, "Flight Ops, start bringing our bombers back on board for re-arming."

"Sir, are you sure?" the grey tabby at Flight Ops asked, "We're still seeing sporadic fire from the Imps."

"I can see that," Ricu snapped, "But if we don't get our bombers back out there, what good are . . ."

"Sir!" the petite mouse at Ops cried out, "The second Imperial group that was breaking of from Antares has changed course again. They're looping back and heading right for us!"

"Shit! Change course to zero-nine-zero!" Ricu shouted, "Keep us out of range. We just . . ."

"Another Imp group has broken off from their main formation! Sir! We're right between them!"

Ricu could see it on the main plot. The Imperials were once again driving at Antares. And his ship was between them. As the two Imperial fleets gained, the destroyers' massive turbolasers began to rain once again upon the EAGLE and her escorts. With her engines already hammered, there was no way she could get out of the lethal zone of fire.

Ricu gripped the armrests of his chair as the EAGLE began to buck and shake from the impacts. He glanced around the bridge as he came to the only conclusion left.

"Call down to the CIC," he ordered, resignation settling upon him, "Launch everything left. Make sure Admiral Blanch orders the release of our escorts, tell them to run for Antares." Looks of shock painted the bridge crew's faces. "Do it! We can't outrun them and we can't stand up. Save what we can!"

The captain's anguished yell broke the paralysis on the bridge. With sudden efficiency, the remaining strike craft began shoot from the launch bays. The remaining escorts broke off and accelerated away from the stricken carrier.

As the last of the operable fighters shot away and the handful of cargo shuttles launched, the EAGLE came about, keeping her failing shields between the oncoming Imperial fire and her small craft as long as possible. With her escorts away, the Imperial Star Destroyers focused upon her, streams of green light reaching out to converge on her hull. Her shields continued to hold, buying precious seconds for her auxiliaries to get away.

"Shields down to seventeen percent," the lieutenant at tactical reported, "We aren't going to last much longer."

"Acknowledged," Ricu said, turning to his Ops officer, "Order all hands to the escape pods. Launch them as soon as they're . . ."

Ricu never finished the order. A heavy turbolaser bolt broke through a temporary weakened spot in the battered port shields. Megajoules of energy sliced into the EAGLE's secondary hull, burning through hull plates, structural integrity fields and crew members until it burned into one of the ship's anti-deuterium storage tanks. With containment breached, the anti-matter began to react with the matter of the ship. In less than a dozen pico-seconds, the emergency containment fields were overwhelmed and the reaction spread to the remaining tanks, adding the energy of their annihilation to the growing blast.

Space lit in a brilliant flash as the EAGLE simply ceased to be, an expanding energy pulse and cloud of particularized debris all that remained.

The ORISKANY's combat information center had gone deathly silent. Though the alarm lights flashed overhead, someone had thought to mute the sirens. No one knew what to think, say, or do - they had all frozen in place, the holographic image of the dust that had once been the Oriskany-class EAGLE drifting in the center of the large room.

Admiral Rikes was the first to collect himself, slowly rising from his chair. The canine didn't even see the rips that his claws had left in the upholstery when he'd been forced to watch as the Empire destroyed a ship under his command. There had been no chance for escape for any of them. Every soul on board was gone.

"Hail Admiral Thamone on the YORKTOWN and rouse any that you can from the EAGLE's fleet," he said quietly into the silence. The crew around him shook off their disbelief and anguish, a low buzz of hushed conversation returning to the CIC. The English setter closed his eyes briefly against the projection of the EAGLE's debris. The destruction had been so effortless to the Empire. Managing any sort of escape, much less a victory, would push the skills of all the Starfleet officers assembled at Antares to the limit.

"Rally back into formation," Rikes ordered as soon as the connections were secured. "The first Imperial battlegroup has fully regrouped. Direct as much power as you can spare into the shields closest to that fleet. I want all helms working on possible escape vectors for the fleet."

"Escape vectors, admiral?" The ORISKANY's own captain gave him a concerned look.

"The crew of the EAGLE deserve to have their story shared with the world, Captain Jinra," Rikes told her wearily. "If we all die here, there will be no one left to tell their families."

"Sir! I'm reading an Imperial Star Destroyer bearing in on our location, vector thirty-three. Massive power buildup in their forward weapon batteries."

"Shields!" Jinra and Rikes barked simultaneously. There was no time to dwell on the fate of the EAGLE now - not if they wanted to survive.

"Get on that escape vector, now," Rikes ordered the closest ensign. "As if your life depends on it. It very well may."

Sparks flew in Antares' CIC. Cords snapped free from consoles around the room, wreaking havoc among the crew members still trying to keep the station operational. Theirs was a fight against the inevitable: whispers had already begin to fly back and forth that the best they could hope to accomplish was to keep the station stable long enough for the majority of those still trapped on board to find a way to evacuate. It was a defining moment for each and every one of them, but Starfleet had chosen its officers well. Only a few of the handful of officers that remained had frozen in fear over what was to come.

Lieutenant Chikariv had taken control of some of the station's guns after the echidna ensign who'd previously manned the station had expired. The brown bear's heart sank as he watched the station's shields drop, but doggedly continued to fire upon the Imperial capital ships. The fate they'd all feared was materializing, becoming reality, but giving up was out of the question. If by some sacrifice even one small ship could break free of the battle and carry those on board to safety, it would be worthwhile.

A diminutive sparrow wearing the insignia of a commodore stumbled into the room, bleeding freely from dozens of gashes that looked like he'd been put through a plate-glass window. One of Chikariv's ensigns hastily picked his way through the debris scattered through the room to help the bird. In his state, the station's chief engineer was nearly unrecognizable.

"Chikariv!" the sparrow gasped. "Put the phasers on autopilot and get me a link to the ORISKANY, on the double. I've got to talk to Rikes, the station's too far gone. Commander Boothe, address the station again. I want all non-essential personnel off this space station. That means you, too, when you're done. I want you all beamed out of here as soon as you can." The sparrow limped over to the comm station, the channel already open.

"Admiral Rikes, this is Commodore Rabetoy. I want you to take all Federation ships and clear a ten klick radius from the station. We've rigged a phaser core to blow the antideuterium tanks - they're going to go off in about five minutes. Leave one or two small ships to intercept staff beaming from the station for about half that time, but get every other ship out of here. Five minute countdown begins on my mark."

Aboard the ORISKANY, eyes widened in shock as the reality of Antares' impending demise actually struck home. The admiral rose halfway from his chair, his hands clutching the armrests, but his voice was calm.

"Confirmed, commodore. Countdown received, transmitting orders to the fleet now."



Interior corridor, Antares Station

Sam Stone looked up sharply when a nearby speaker crackled, cracking his head on the underside of an especially low doorway. He had been forced, in spite of all his protests, to carry the limp form of the redheaded cat girl for Force only knew how long while the witchy vixen limped along behind him. "Now what is it?" he complained, shifting Perdia's weight so that the girl's gut settled against his shoulder. Uncomfortable for her, comfortable for him - it worked.

Zannah had only begun to level an angry glare at the much taller male when the speaker gave off another burst of static.

"Attention all station personnel, this is Commander Boothe." A strong male voice echoed through the largely emptied corridors around them. "All personnel are to report to the nearest possible escape vehicle. Pod, shuttle, it doesn't matter - just get off the station. The station's self-destruct mechanism was damaged in an earlier attack, and an emergency system has been rigged. Hail another vessel if you can - try to get a beamout - do whatever you can. Just get off this station now, if you value your life." Distant shrieks carried as the few holdouts who remained in the sectors around them began to realize their own doom. For himself, Stone felt nothing but numbness. Surely he hadn't broken out of the penal colonies on Hoth just for this . . .

"It has been an honor to serve with all of you," Boothe's voice said before the speakers went silent.

Zannah took a deep breath, forcing all thoughts of fear and panic away from her. Giving into fear at a moment like this . . . "You heard him. I don't know about you, but I'm not dying here." She jerked her head back in the direction of the admiral's conference room. "There was a 'porter pad back there. Let's move it."

"You're gonna make me carry her all the way back--I'm goin', I'm goin'," the lion growled, stiffening at the feel of Zannah's stolen phaser pressed against his ribs. "Friggin' Sithspawn," he muttered under his breath as he started to jog back up the corridor, ignoring any bruises that he might be giving to the kid on his shoulder. "I knew I shoulda stayed in my cell back on Hoth . . ."



Bridge, USS FELIX

"Captain Xaiver, incoming transmission from the ORISKANY," Cyber announced from Ops.

"On screen." Marc and the other members of the bridge crew watched as the face of Admiral Rikes appeared on their viewscreen, partially blocking their view of the battle around them.

"This is Admiral Allen Rikes on the USS ORISKANY. All ships are to leave Antares, effective immediately," the setter announced. Though very little time had actually passed since the start of the invasion, the admiral seemed to have aged several years. "Use the vectors transmitted through the secure line for rendezvous. I repeat, leave immediately. The crew aboard the station have planted an incendiary device in the station's antideuterium tanks."

Silence gripped the bridge as the admiral disappeared, broken only by the very soft but nonetheless creative cursing from Raymond's place at the helm. Distantly, Marc noted that he had never seen the raptor's fingers move so fast as he plotted a course to take them away from the doomed station. His real focus had been pulled with sinking horror to the station that loomed large in their viewscreen, just where the admiral's face had been. "They're still there . . ." he said softly. "Perdia and Zannah, they're still there . . ."

Cyber Hare's large blue ears flicked back toward the captain. "Sir." The rabbit's voice was full of steel. "If we drop shields and transport them, we will die. There is not even a hundredth of a percentage of a chance that we would survive."

The captain's hands clenched into fists. "We can't just leave them there to die! We--"

"We have to follow the admiral's orders, sir."

Dark spots danced in front of Marc's eyes. "No," he growled, dragging one hand through his hair. "We can't just leave them to die. Zannah saved my life, and Perdia--"

The commander interrupted him. "Lieutenant Raymond, take us to warp as soon as you have the course plotted." Her grey eyes were filled with concern. "I'm sorry, captain, but there isn't any other way . . ."



Bridge, ISD TOTALITARIAT

Admiral Fayse's beady eyes narrowed in aggrivation as the Federation's combatant ships suddenly began to disappear from view, each one winking away in a swirl of stars. "Captain Tryzk, what in the name of the Emperor is going on here?" he demanded.

The badger could only shake his head in disbelief. "They're - leaving, sir. They're running away . . ."

"Track them!" Admiral Fayse snarled at another of his subordinates, a uniformed junior officer whose temple was still bloodied from the ungraceful tumble the bridge crew had taken some time ago. "We do not simply allow the cowards to flee. We have been sent here by the Emperor himself to subdue--"

"Admiral!" the salamander at comm snapped, his skin bone white. "We've intercepted the last communication sent from the fleet, they've rigged that thing to blow--"

All the color drained from the armadillo's face. "How much fuel does a station like that--evasive maneuvers! Evasive maneuvers now, Sith take you all!"



Combat Information Center, Antares Station

Lieutenant Chikariv draped one of the wounded chief of chief's arms across his shoulder, noting in horror the amount of blood seeping through Rabetoy's uniform onto his own. Antares' chief of chiefs shook his head. "Chikariv, get out of here. Those transports will be here for a few more moments."

Chikariv shook his head, and gestured for his remaining crew of battered officers to stand at attention. "Sorry, commodore. We'll remain here with you." The bird sighed, fingering the remote detonator. "Very well," he said quietly, struggling for a moment to stand on his own. "Ladies, gentlemen - I may not have known you all personally, but you are doing your Federation a great honor, this day. They may never know our actions, but they will live as proof of them."

Commander Boothe nodded and lifted his hand in a salute to the chief. Barely a heartbeat had passed before the entire room was on its feet, everyone saluting the diminutive sparrow, their commander, the friends and colleagues who they had worked beside for time untold. The sight of the battered crew giving Antares its final farewell brought a faint smile to the chief's face. Even now he could see the ships outside as they disappeared in a swirl of stars. The fleet would survive to fight again, and no Imperial boot would ever defile the floors of his - of their station.

With a smile and a final burst of effort, Commodore Padraig Rabetoy, Chief of Chiefs, returned their salute and pressed the detonator's button.



Admiral Rikes' command quarters, Antares Station

'I'm going to die here,' Zannah thought. All the bays were empty. There was no way off the station. The singular explosions of turbolasers striking Antares had long since melded into a single all-pervasive, bone rattling rumble. What shields she had left surely would not hold out much longer against such a pounding. Strangely, there was no fear attached to Zannah's musing. The lion had let her unconscious apprentice slide from his shoulder and left her leaning slumped against a bulkhead. Zannah knelt beside her. 'We're all going to die.' She reached over and took Perdia's hand. At least they wouldn't be dying alone. She waited for the white heat to come and obliterate everything. Even Stone's increasingly frantic cursing failed to penetrate her calm center. "Force be with--" A roaring tide of unimaginable heat and pressure slammed away consciousness, cutting her off before she could finish the phrase.

"GO!"

Milliseconds before the FELIX's helmsman could act on the captain's order to take them into warp, three unconscious figures materialized in a heap on the bridge, exposed fur and clothing smoking from the unguessable heat of their passage. The ship leaped into warp barely ahead of the shockwave generated by Antares' violent death. Marc, Commander Costran, and the bridge crew hardly had time to register the presence of the new arrivals when a radiation warning alarm began wailing. The Bajoran officer was the first to recover her wits. She smacked her combadge. "Medical emergency on the bridge! Three to beam to sickbay. Suspect radiation--"

"As if the alarms hadn't already clued me in," came Dr. Pierce's acid response. "Acknowledged."

As quickly as they had appeared, the trio vanished in a hum of transporter sparkles, removed to the doctor's care. Costran breathed a faint relieved sigh before turning to Xavier. "An admirable rescue, captain," she said, "but your transporter operator could use some practice. They ought to have been beamed directly to sickbay in the first place, not the bridge."

"I . . . yes. Yes, that's right, Sickbay. Should have . . . Yes." Marc rubbed shaking hands through his short hair, trying desperately to collect himself. A part of his brain wanted to explode from relief. 'Not dead! They're alive!' "Thank you for your assistance, Commander Costran."

She gave him a strange look. "Are you feeling all right, Captain Xavier?"

"I'm fine, thank you," he replied, fighting to urge to look over at Ops, still manned by Commander Hare. He knew there were no standing orders to transport survivors off Antares. There had been no time. Even if there had been orders, the FELIX had had her shields up the entire time. "Commander Costran, my security officers are bogged down with panicking civilians and crew from other ships who ended up aboard. We could use your assistance sorting things out."

Costran nodded. "On my way."

Marc breathed a tad easier once she left the bridge. He had felt a sick sort of lurch in the part of himself that understood the Jedi teachings Zannah had been trying to get him to learn, and before he could blink, his daughter, Jedi mentor, and that pirate Stone were all laying in a heap on his bridge. Marc could not explain it, but understood on some subconscious level how they had arrived there. He could only hope Commander Costran never made the connection to the fact that the trio had arrived without either the glow or the hum that always accompanied the transporter.



Bridge, ISDTOTALITARIAT

Admiral Fayse fell to the floor as the ship lurched beneath him, going unexpectedly blind as Antares Station exploded before his eyes. Fayse had seen Rebel-held stations destroyed, but never anything of this magnitude. The image that was seared into his retinas was that of the entire station engulfed in flame. "Report!" he howled, covering his eyes out of reflex.

The bridge was deathly quiet for a few seconds before alarms began blaring all around him, sending the armadillo scrabbling for something to hold on to as his eyesight slowly recovered. "S-sir. Antares has been . . . vaporized, my lord admiral." Fayse stilled. He could hear the sickening swallow from the officer of the watch's throat. "Ten corvettes and twelve of the lancers have been . . . melted. We're receiving reports of massive casualties."

The admiral closed his eyes, but it wasn't enough to block the image from his mind - not of Antares, but of the gruesome way in which the Emperor would end his life.

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