A Young Girl's War Between the Stars [Youjo Senki/Star Wars]

91

A Young Girl’s War Between the Stars91

Anaxes, Pols Anaxes. 33 BBY/967 GSC.

Looking out over the testing facility, I took it all in, assessing the room, the equipment, the proctors, and the spectators. The room was a large rectangle, very similar to an indoor gymnasium. There were three sections: the main floor where the testing would take place, an area full of stadium seating for guests which was packed with students and faculty alike waiting, and an upper floor where the important guests were seated and observing.

The testing floor was covered with simulator pods. The pods were very similar to the flight sims we had on the for training new pilots, but from experience with the system over the course of the last year I knew that the interior had been modified and the controls were different. After all, this wasn’t a simulator for training pilots, but rather one for training new captains to direct their ship’s bridge crew while giving them a few controls to handle other subsystems of a simulated ship.

I frowned as I saw the opposing class were not just already gathered, but were currently busy with the simulators. Reaching out with my senses, I felt out our opponents. They were tired, irritable, frustrated, hungry, thirsty, and angry. Several of them felt on the verge of passing out where they sat. Not that I could blame them—after three days of sleep deprivation leading up to the final exam, I would be a bit irritable too.

Over the course of the last year, we had slowly whittled their numbers down through a combination of subterfuge, sabotage, and psychological manipulation. Out of a class of one hundred, they were down to just over sixty.

There had been , of course. None of them had found anything to indicate any sort of wrongdoing on the part of my little group of twenty. As far as they could tell, our hands were clean… even if, statistically speaking, the only reasonable answer to why over thirty percent of this year’s graduating class had failed, dropped out, in a few unfortunate cases had been expelled, and in one case had been arrested after an attempted duel to the death was enemy action.

The enemy class had tried retaliation, but we were ahead of them from day one. We had already set security rotations and bribed the MPs and even the cleaning staff into watching over the dormitories any time we had classes. I had food delivered from outside the normal supply chain and randomized suppliers, so there was no way to intercept it before it was safely stored away for our use. And any attempts at bribing an instructor to change our grades, or hacking in and changing them, were mysteriously thwarted as someone reset the grades back to what they had been if that happened. It was the one vector I wasn’t willing to exploit to attack the enemy. If they managed to deal with our sabotage and score decently, then they had earned that score and deserved to keep it—so allowing them to use the computer system against us was off the table.

Now though, they were wise to our tricks, for the most part. For the past week, they had split into groups and stayed off campus. Eating and drinking only food they had made themselves, because wanted another mass laxative incident on the day of a test. Taking rotating sleep shifts to make sure no one slipped in and stole, defaced, or damaged their uniforms. Not that rotating sleep shifts had saved them from directed noise emitters tuned to a frequency just outside of human hearing, but which made sleep practically impossible.

Beside me, LtCdr. Soya tensed as Capt. Tarkin approached our group. “Capt. Tarkin, sir! Why has the other class been given access to the simulators early? This constitutes an unfair advantage—”

“, Soya,” I cut the man off.

Capt. Tarkin studied us for a moment before locking eyes with me. “Why don’t you tell us why your opponents for today have been given access to the testing equipment early, LtCdr. von Degurechaff?”

I came to parade rest, tucking my hands behind my back. “So they could have time to set up and prepare for whatever scenarios the examiners have planned ahead of our class, sir. As to why they were allowed to do so, that’s simple—in war, there is no such thing as ‘fair.’ You should always assume your enemy has some sort of advantage—be it numerical, tactical, or even just time to prepare.”

“Good,” Capt. Tarkin nodded. “Get your people situated, commander. As soon as they are, I will explain the first test.”

I turned to the other members of my class. “To your pods,” I ordered, and they dispersed, rushing to climb into the simulators. I took my time making my way over and climbing into my own, off to the side and behind the others.

Capt. Tarkin took an elevator up to the upper floor and, a few moments later, our screens were filled with a color video of the captain standing in the observation room. “Good morning, students. The outcome of this exercise will determine whether or not your entire class fails. This test will be given in three parts over the course of three days, simulating the beginning, middle, and end of a theoretical war with the Confederacy of Independent Systems. In a moment, you will be briefed on your first simulated mission. Good luck.”

The video shut off and was replaced with a star field and instrument readouts—a simulated bridge layout that matched roughly with what we would have available as a captain aboard a Republic ship. Checking the instruments, I took stock of what we had available. We had been issued a fleet of twenty ships, made up of the new and -class currently in development, with a few supposedly having already rolled off the assembly line. The ships were currently in hyperspace transit, approaching Mandalore.

Capt. Tarkin’s voice came over my audio feed—and presumably everyone else’s. “Your class controls a small fleet of the next generation of Republic Navy ships. Your mission is a punitive strike on Mandalore. Your objectives are to destroy their shipyard and orbital fleet, and force their leadership to the negotiation table. If they refuse to surrender, you are authorized to glass their cities. You will begin in one minute.”

Nodding to myself, I activated my comm unit to address my fleet. “This is von Degurechaff. Override hyperspace nav beacon and synchronize exit on me. Switch all scanners to passive only and comms to laser tight beam.”

There were a number of affirmatives and I waited. As I did, a new voice came over my comms. “LtCdr. von Degurechaff, the test hasn’t started. You cannot change your hypernav exit—”

“Negative, sir. The exercise began the moment you allowed the other class access to the testing equipment. And as we are in transit and under comms blackout, we will be disregarding any instructions from the observers until this part of the test is over.”

With that, I cut comms and eyed my panel. After a moment, I hit the control for manual exit from hyperspace and watched as our fleet dropped out well outside of what I was sure was a that had been set up specifically to put us into combat right from the start. Checking the passive scans of the local area, I hummed.

I realized, as I took in the system.

Checking the terrain, I felt a smirk creeping up on my lips as I keyed up, simultaneously selecting multiple ships to start issuing orders. It seemed the enemy were guarding the orbital shipyard—a key strategic target within the system, where I would expect most of Mandalore’s forces to congregate, or at least stay near enough to prevent an enemy attack. It was also one of our targets for this exercise. That they seemed to be clustered specifically around the shipyard told me that there was a good chance that someone had informed them of our goals.

I put those thoughts out of my head and focused on dealing with what was right in front of me. “Alright. We’ll split into three groups—decoy, artillery, and cleanup. I’ll take three ships and act as the decoy. Soya, take ten ships and move along the asteroid belt into position here to act as cleanup. The rest of you, I’m sending you coordinates to a position inside the asteroid belt. You’ll be our hammer. The plan is simple…”

Wilhuff frowned as the observation room devolved into arguing, audible over the audio coming in over the headset he wore to listen in to the communications coming in from both teams.

“This is rank insubordination!”

“LtCdr. von Degurechaff is correct, though. In real world conditions, there wouldn’t be a group of higher ranking observers back seat driving.”

“She’s going to ruin the entire test!”

“He’s right. Capt. Tarkin, you have to do something. This was supposed to be a test of their reaction to a prepared enemy with an overwhelming force.”

“Conditions change! If you wanted them dropped into an immediate firefight, then the scenario shouldn’t have begun with hyperspace transit.”

“Yes, but we didn’t want them to see the ambush waiting for them and ruin the surprise element. We should disqualify this test and force them to restart it under the proper conditions.”

“I’ll say it again. We are supposed to be testing reactions to this scenario, giving them orders and directing them how we want them to move. Otherwise, what was the point of the test? We may as well take it ourselves at that point!”

At the same time, the larger team—officially team Aurek—were starting to ask questions. From the chatter he heard, they knew that team Dorn—von Degurechaff’s class—were supposed to drop out of hyperspace practically on top of them and it was supposed to be an easy win. had let that slip, so already Wilhuff was in favor of allowing von Degurechaff to handle it as she saw fit.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t just accuse a member of the admiralty of cheating, even if he had a good idea of exactly who it was and why. No one would appreciate a backhanded accusation of nepotism, because they all did it or might do it in the future. No, it was best to ignore it. Instead, he would have to sidestep that matter entirely.

“Gentlemen,” Wilhuff cut in, drawing their attention. “You all have good points. However, I distinctly recall being brought back to teach this group myself, in addition to administering this test. If you would like to administer the tests yourselves to your own satisfaction then by all means, please do. Otherwise, I will continue to administer this test in the manner in which I see fit. Are there any objections?”

“Well then, what’s your ruling on the lieutenant colonel’s insubordination and disregard for the conditions of the test, ?” the admiral Wilhuff suspected of leaking the test details asked.

“You never identified yourself, nor did you issue a direct order after having done so—therefor there was no insubordination. And as for the matter of the test… was it not the intent of this group to seek out individuals of exceptional talent, capable of thinking outside the box? Would forcing test conditions upon them that explicitly aim to not go against the spirit of that? Would you ruin the entire experiment at the last moment because the people you selected to do the unexpected ?”

There was some quiet grumbling and exchanged looks at that. He continued, “Also, as you’ll recall, Mandalore Mereel is a former Jedi Knight. You’ve all read the same reports I have—the records we were able to pry from the Jedi Order on her Jedi service record and her unredacted record serving in the Republic army. She’s unorthodox. She knows how we think. Republic Intelligence believes she enlisted in our military specifically to learn our tactics and counter them. We need people of our own to counter . People who can not just think outside the box, but who can anticipate and counter someone actively working to counter Republic Army and Navy doctrine. That is what we’re here for, is it not?”

Wilhuff turned and pointed to the screen showing von Degurechaff quietly issuing orders to her people. “They are what you want, and LtCdr. von Degurechaff exemplifies that. von Degurechaff, and those under her command, can be our insurance. Mavericks to turn against that wildcard of a Zeltron.”

At that, they seemed to come to an agreement. “Fine. Let’s see what these mavericks of yours can do, then.”

“…What they doing, anyway?”

Wilhuff turned back to the screen, showing the entire battle space. As he watched, four of von Degurechaff’s ships jumped to hyperspace, only to come out a moment later to the northeast of the hundred strong fleet guarding the shipyard—the thirty not being controlled directly by students who had washed out assigned to a few students as small battle groups. In his ear, he heard Team Aurek discussing.

“LtCdr. Clark, four ships on scopes, heading for the planet. What are your orders?”

There was a pause, before Clark answered. “They must be attempting to seize the capital and hold the planet for ransom. Hawks, take your strike group and pursue them. Kala, circle around the planet from the other direction with your group. I want the two of you to pincer them and wipe them out. The rest of us will sit tight.”

““Yes, sir!”” the pair responded, and Wilhuff watched as two groups of eight began moving to intercept, as LtCdr. von Degurechaff’s passed the horizon and left sensor range.

Immediately, all four ships deployed fighters and bombers, the smaller craft dipping into the atmosphere at speeds that were absolutely against standard operating procedures. Then, the -class she was using, the , dove—following behind them at an angle that would see them strafing Sundari at speed. Course projections put the ship as dipping just low enough to bring the city within range of her guns. The other two followed, but began slowing down as they broke off, their projected courses putting them en route to the second two largest cities on Mandalore.

Behind him, one of the admirals hummed. “It looks like she’s decided to bomb Sundari. That goes against—”

LtCdr. von Degurechaff cut him off, as she started a simulated holo broadcast from her ship—all bands, every channel. “This is LtCdr. Tanya von Degurechaff of the Republic Navy. You are hereby ordered to stand your ships down and surrender. If you do not, we will begin destroying your cities, starting with your capital and moving down the list by population. You have… Nine minutes to comply.”

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“It’s within the mission parameters,” one of the other admirals grudgingly admitted.

“Attacking a civilian city is a war crime—”

The blonde woman cleared her throat as she switched to addressing the observation booth. “Capt. Tarkin, as a reminder I would like to point out that for the record, there is historical precedent for the Republic glassing Mandalorian cities. That is why Mandalore is in the state it’s in now. If we confirmed the presence of their leader, I believe we should destroy Sundari just to ensure we neutralized them. A proper decapitation strike would leave the Mandalorian contingent of the CIS in disarray, just as it did the last time we did it.”

Wilhuff nodded. “I’ll allow it, commander.”

“We’d never hear the end of that decision in the senate.”

“No, but it would be worth it.”

“Very well. How do we want to handle it, captain? Should the planet surrender?”

One of them sighed. “Capt. Tarkin, did you actually plan it out that far? We didn’t expect them to survive the ambush.”

“I did,” Wilhuff confirmed. “Under these conditions, the enemy surrender. However… Everything I know about Mereel tells me that she would likely offer a false surrender, then wait for the opportune moment to strike. For the sake of the exercise, Mandalore Mereel is in Sundari. If Sundari were to fall… Well. That’s a different story.”

With that, Wilhuff turned on his microphone. “Attention Aurek team. Your leader has ordered you to—”

“” one of the cadets interrupted, and Wilhuff raised an eyebrow at what he saw—the comment directed not at Wilhuff, but at LtCdr. Clark. “We’ve got incoming, heading right for the shipyard! Looks like a massive asteroid shower! Impact in six minutes!”

Clark paused, considering it for a moment. “…That’s no asteroid shower, it’s an attack! If it takes out the shipyard and von Degurechaff destroys the capital, they win! Switch over to particle shields! Rearrange our formation to put us in front of the shipyard. I want two groups. First group, advance one thousand miles and spread out. Redirect power to shields and tractor beams and prepare torpedoes and missiles. Second group, fire through the gaps. Focus fire on the largest targets first, as they come into range. First group, try to intercept what the second group can’t get. All you need to do is knock it off course. No need to sacrifice yourselves for this. We don’t need to give up our numerical advantage here.”

Wilhuff fell silent, watching with interest. As he did, von Degurechaff broadcast to the observation box again. “Apologies for the interruption, Capt. Tarkin. I just thought it would be prudent to verify some things. That is, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“She’s fishing for intelligence. Keep it short, captain,” one of the admirals warned.

Wilhuff frowned, but switched over to von Degurechaff’s channel. “What is it you wanted to verify, commander?”

“As you know, our studies have been a bit over the last year, concentrating on Confederate assets. One of those being the Mandalorian System. As I’m sure you’re aware, the Mandalorians are best known for three things: their bloody history, their willingness to war over practically anything, and their . Beskar, that nigh mythical metal that has the amazing property of distributing energy in such a way that makes it highly resistant to plasma weapons…, from their turbolasers to their missiles and torpedoes.When this simulation was made, was the fact that the Mandalorians mine much of their beskar and the impact of plasma weapon fire upon asteroidstaken into consideration?”

The room went silent. Wilhuff’s mouth fell open for just a moment, before he began tapping away at his console. As he did, he found himself smiling.

“No, commander. We had not. I am rectifying that oversight now,” he reported back.

On one of the two dedicated screens showing the two commanders, von Degurechaff and Clark, the blonde woman nodded. She relaxed back in her seat and opened up her thermos, pouring herself a cup of tea—the very picture of calm. In contrast, Clark displayed confidence, but his eyes gave him away as he kept glancing at his screens.

“One last question then, captain. What happens when a trillion tons of unprocessed beskar launched at the maximum speed multiple moving one with a tractor beam can accelerate one to with thousands of miles to push meets a group of relatively unmoving targets—I mean ships—trying to catch it with their own tractor beams?”

Wilhuff mentally ran the math and chuckled as an image of a bug splattering across the windscreen of a moving speeder came to mind. “Well, let’s let our observers see how it plays out, shall we?”

von Degurechaff shut off her comms, watching her screens. Behind him, someone quietly asked, “Captain… did she just win?”

“It’s been quite some time since I was last in the academy, but I do believe that kinetic energy equals half the mass, multiplied by velocity, and then squared. And that is of mass. I don’t believe even our are rated to stand up to a hit from something that large,” one of the other admirals murmured. “So yes. Yes, I do believe she did.”

“If this works, we may have a way to neutralize Mandalore’s defensive fleet. Assuming we can entice them into conveniently moving into one location and staying there. Yes, I believe it may just be possible to convince them to perform some egregious tactical blunder, such as putting their entire planetary defense fleet around their shipyard while waiting for an enemy to drop out of hyperspace at a predetermined point—”

“It was supposed to be a test to see how they dealt with overwhelming odds, not an exact recreation of real world conditions! It’s not a proper test if the defender doesn’t know they’re coming! The results of the test should be discarded and a new test given in its place.”

“Would they know in real world conditions?”

“And I’m sure your answer has nothing to do with one of the graduating class, ?”

Wilhuff tuned them out as, on screen, the defensive force opened fire—first with torpedoes and missiles, then with turbolasers. All to little effect.

“Impact! Good hit!” one of the students called.

There was a cheer, before one of them asked, “Wait, are you sure that hit? It just blasted some rocks off the surface. The main mass is still coming.”

“Keep firing,” LtCdr Clark ordered, leaning forward in his seat.

The asteroid bombardment kept coming as fragments broke off, but the majority of it held together. As Wilhuff watched, morale slowly broke as the calls started coming in.

“Commander, our weapons aren’t having any effect!”

Clark looked over his men before making the call Wilhuff was expecting. “Everyone, I’ll designate targets. Redirect power to weapons and concentrate fire on them.”

Tapping the button to address Clark directly, Wilhuff said, “Commander, you are asking your men to sacrifice themselves. It is an easy decision to ask of them now, in a simulation. But in a real conflict, that would mean the loss of thousands of lives per ship. All to try to protect a shipyard. Do you truly believe that nearly a hundred ships would agree to sacrifice themselves? That none would lose their nerve? That none would mutiny?”

“But sir,” the younger man protested, “if they don’t hold the line, we’ll lose the exercise.”

“Exactly my point, commander,” Wilhuff nodded. “It is an exercise, as you yourself acknowledge. Something you are all aware of, so the thought of the ‘sacrifice’ here means nothing to you. If we are to simulate real world conditions, then you must accept that between thirty and fifty percent of your forces would disregard that order. So…”

Wilhuff switched over to Aurek team’s channel as he selected thirty ships. “Roughly one third of you will break formation and move away due to loss of morale. Those I’ve highlighted, leave the engagement area.”

There was only a slight hesitation, before they quickly scattered. Less than a minute later, there was a quiet intake of breath from everyone in the observation room as they watched a simulation of simple physics play out in real time.

“Everyone focus tractors on the largest asteroid. We can try to force the others out of the way, but we need to deflect the big one first,” Clark ordered, in one last, desperate attempt to pull off a win.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

Those ships that tried to intercept with their tractor beams found their emitters crushed beneath the mass hurtling at them, explosions going off across multiple ships as they were overloaded. Ships were crushed against beskar asteroids, explosions going off as simulators shut off, marking them as out for the rest of this exercise. Shields flared as smaller asteroids, debris from the bombardment, and pieces of destroyed ships impacted those who had managed to maneuver around the asteroids and not succumb to the bombardment. Behind what remained of the fleet, the largest asteroid hit the shipyard, causing small explosions and scattering it and the unfinished ships berthed there in a spray of shining metal, like snowflakes drifting through the void of space.

Clark cursed quietly, slamming a hand on his console as he lost his composure, his face turning red in humiliation and frustration. “Shit!”

“Sir—!”

“What?!” Clark roared, turning partially in his chair to yell in the general direction of the person who had called out.

“It’s just… We have incoming.”

Clark turned back to his screen, frantically looking over the display before he spotted it. Attacking them from their south was LtCdr Soya’s group of ships, while coming in behind another wave of asteroids were the rest. Fighters had already deployed and were closing fast. Missiles launched, racing ahead of the ships and their fighters.

On von Degurechaff’s screen, the woman’s lips curled into a wicked smile that sent a shiver down Wilhuff’s spine as her ship opened fire on the simulated Sundari below. “Checkmate~.”

Tarkin turned back to the seated admirals as, behind him, the sounds of ships being impacted and destroyed with missiles and turbolasers firing echoed. “Shall we move on to the next scenario, or would you prefer we let this play out?”

“Move it along, Capt. Tarkin,” Adm. Clark sighed as LtCdr. Clark’s screen went dark.

“Very well,” Wilhuff agreed, before ending the simulation and addressing both groups. “There will be a half hour recess before we begin the next test.”

Wilhuff smoothed down his dress uniform jacket, smoothing out any lines. Looking down at himself one last time, he put on his cap and left his temporary quarters on Anaxes. As he made his way to the graduation ceremony, he allowed his mind to wander.

The abbreviated course experiment had been a complete success. Even those who had doubts had been forced to acknowledge the results, when a class with only a year of training had soundly defeated a group with three more years of experience—and then had done it twice more.

No one could claim von Degurechaff had carried her class, either.

After the first test, she had shown exactly the sort of team mentality they were looking for by stepping back and letting LtCdr. Soya have his time in the spotlight with the second test—a simulation of the middle of a hypothetical war with the CIS, where team Dorn were set up as a group of damaged ships fleeing from the pursuing team Aurek, and in the end he had turned their flight into a counter-ambush using the local terrain and some improvisation with using torpedoes as mines. For the final test, both of the higher ranking officers had sat back and let the rest of their group work out a simulated defense of Serenno as Aurek team assaulted them. That, they had managed to turn into an hours long slog that eventually ended in a stalemate—which, against the superior attacking force, was ruled as a victory.

Not that the Senate were taking the threat of the Trade Federation seriously at this point. No, they were more worried about the CIS. Apparently, it was the opinion of those in power that the Trade Federation could be brought to the negotiation table, but only after the threat of the CIS was removed—meaning, after they were made an example of, when the Republic had visibly demonstrated that they were still the galactic authority.

Shaking his head, he put on a smile as he stepped out of the elevator and into the noonday light, making him squint. The wind pulled at his hair as he looked around the top of the skyscraper that stood at the center of Anaxes War College, housing all of the various functionaries and departments required for the college to run. The top of the building was an open pavilion with greenery used to host formal events, such as the Navy ball, or in this case, graduation ceremonies.

His eyes quickly adjusted and he took in the students waiting for the ceremony to commence—their families in attendance, sitting in the rows of chairs in front of the stage that had been erected, where the students stood. Despite failing the final test, it was ruled that the results of the test would not be held against them and this year’s fourth year class would graduate normally—joined by the test group. Looking around, he spotted von Degurechaff speaking with Clark as the two classes mingled.

Wilhuff shook his head. The promotions and assignments for those graduating today had already been issued and he’d reviewed them before getting ready. Out of everyone in both classes, it seemed one student had neither been promoted nor given an assignment. The to-be promoted Cdr. Clark was to be given command of one of the first -class ships, fresh off the assembly line. LtCdr. von Degurechaff, however, seemed to have been skipped over for some reason.

.

Seeing Wilhuff moving towards the stage, von Degurechaff alerted Clark. The taller man nodded, before calling, “Attention!”

As everyone came to attention, Wilhuff caught von Degurechaff frown, before shifting her saluting hand over and touching her ear—or rather, Wilhuff suspected an earpiece. She turned slightly away and mumbled something, before she turned back and met his gaze. An amused smile crossed her lips as she resumed her salute.

Wondering what that was about, Wilhuff made his way up the stairs to the stage and over to the podium. Stopping, he returned the salute as he met the eyes of every student there.

“At ease,” he ordered, before turning to the microphone and looking out over the smiling crowd. Taking a breath, he began to recite the speech he had prepared from memory, before the elevator doors at the back of the pavilion opened and a group of heavily armed military police streamed out—a man in a blue Republic Intelligence uniform at their head.

“Gentlemen, welcome,” Wilhuff greeted the men as they approached. “How may we help Republic Intelligence,” he checked the man’s pips, “Commander…?”

“Stand aside, Capt. Tarkin. No one move,” the man called as several of the MPs took up a firing position on the stage. “There is an infiltrator in your ranks.”

Wilhuff raised an eyebrow. “Everyone on this stage has been here for at least a year, commander. Did Republic Intelligence somehow an infiltrator here, in the heart of the Republic Navy?”

The intelligence officer frowned. “We didn’t miss them. We sent an alert the first week they arrived. It was only when the individual in question that it tripped our systems again and an alert was sent out to our local Republic Intelligence office.”

“Who—” Wilhuff began, only for a quiet cough behind him to draw his attention. Turning, he found von Degurechaff stepping forward.

“I’ll save you all a bit of time. I’m the one he’s looking for,” she said, and the Intelligence agent nodded. “Asajj, we’re leaving.”

“Stay right—” the man started, as a couple of MPs turned to look at the crowd, bringing their weapons around and causing screams to ring out as people realized their spectacle had just added an segment. A blonde girl sitting in the front row hopped up from her chair and rushed the line of MPs. As one moved to catch her, she dropped into a slide, slipping between his legs and popping up on the other side, before jumping and landing on the stage beside von Degurechaff as the other students began clearing out. “Arrest them!”

von Degurechaff waved in Wilhuff’s direction, before turning and running with the child—.

“Wait—!”

“Fire! Fire!”

Blaster fire filled the air as the pair jumped. It stopped almost immediately as they fell away. Wilhuff stared after them for a moment, before the roar of an engine drowned out the sounds of screams. A ship rose up, revealing the blonde woman standing on the top of its hull, arms crossed as it ascended. Behind her, the child opened a hatch and dropped down inside. The cannons—of which there were many, and more than Wilhuff believed that model should have—turned to lock onto the MPs, and the men hesitated, unwilling to risk the pilot’s wrath.

“It’s been a pleasure, Captain,” the blonde woman called, before turning and walking to the hatch and dropping inside.

The blastboat turned and accelerated away. A moment later, Wilhuff caught sight of a squadron of fighters flying overhead, trying to catch up—and failing by the look of it. Turning to the Republic Intelligence officer, he hopped down off of the stage and stormed over.

“” Wilhuff quietly demanded.

The other man flinched, shrinking back. “As I said, Republic Intelligence sent the alert in to apprehend her ages ago. They thought the issue was handled, until she came up for promotion.”

“Who is she?”

The Intelligence agent laughed quietly, once. “Ahh, well, you see, after our systems flagged what looked like a duplicate entry, the alert was sent for manual review. She didn’t even bother to change her first name—”

“Spit. It. Out.”

“Mereel. Tanya Mereel.”

Wilhuff stared. His jaw worked for a moment, before he ground out, “You mean to tell me that I’ve spent the last year ?” The other man opened his mouth to say something and Wilhuff shook his head. “Don’t. Not another word. Go. Find out how this happened. I want to know who is responsible for this. Don’t come back until you know.”

“Understood, sir!” the man snapped off a salute, before turning and hurrying away.

Turning to the MPs, Wilhuff barked, “Restore order here, then return to your posts.” Raising his voice, he called, “The graduation ceremony is postponed until tomorrow!”

With that, he stormed for the elevator, his mind whirling. Once he was alone inside the box, he let out a quiet sigh.

Nodding to himself, his thoughts turned to Mereel herself. Grudgingly, he acknowledged that she had pulled the wool over their eyes. The only question was… why hadn’t she done more to harm the Republic while she had the opportunity? Going by her record, she could have killed every instructor here at any point. Or her class. She had plenty of time to sabotage them, but why do that when she had a penchant for using—

He removed his personal holocom as the elevator doors opened and quickly hurried out of the building. As he did, he quickly dialed the number for the base’s MP station. As soon as they picked up, he spoke. “This is Captain Wilhuff Tarkin. On my authority, evacuate the central tower. Then, get a bomb squad in. I want it swept thoroughly for explosives.”

As soon as he had the affirmative, he hurried away, back to his quarters. It was only when the all clear was given and no explosives turned up that he was forced to reevaluate her, and he found himself coming to a conclusion he didn’t like, but couldn’t dismiss.

Mereel was a soldier first and a Jedi second. She had trained alongside the other students, had been willing to stand beside them when they graduated either because she had a massive ego or, more likely, as a matter of professional pride. It would explain why she hadn’t simply assassinated anyone, or set up demolition charges in the building to take out teachers and students in one fell swoop.

Sitting and thinking on it, Wilhuff eventually came to the conclusion that she had made a mistake here. While she had spent a year learning from him, he had spent a year learning about . Not just Wilhuff, but everyone in her class. They knew how she thought. They knew what to expect.

Afte