After waiting for so many months the day had finally come! Seven could barely contain himself as he sprinted down the corridors of the SSD, knocking down crewmembers and offering no apologies. He was too excited to care. Besides, he was a Sith. They should apologize to him for being in his way!

He had learned of the news seven months before, right after a mission he, Palin, Star and Sky had been involved in. At first he hadn’t known what to feel about it. The news hit him like a load of duracrete, caught him off guard. Excitement, fear, joy, terror...all of these emotions had been present. Eventually he came to terms with it and realized that there was little room in his life for fear or terror. They were obstacles and hindrances. They would only slow him down. He had to be brave, confident and strong. If he weren’t then he would never survive the coming trials.

After all, he couldn’t let his son down, right?

His son...he couldn’t believe that he was saying those words. Who would have guessed it? Seven...a father. Some would say that he was a bit young to be having a kid, and chronologically speaking they would be right. Both he and Palin were only nineteen years old. Kids, in the grand scheme of things. However...their maturity belied their youth. He and Palin had seen so much in their short nineteen years in this galaxy. So much pain, so much death, so much anguish...it forced them to grow up a bit quicker than most people their age. And now, they were about to have a kid together. Another thing that would force them to grow up beyond the seemingly universally-accepted requirement for their age.

This was something he didn’t mind, though. He was going to be a father. He was going to have a son of his own. That was all that mattered. He had been waiting for this day for seven long, torturous months, and finally, it had arrived. He had just received a call not two minutes ago from Star, their resident doctor. Their resident Sith doctor. Palin had gone into labor moments ago. The second he had heard the news, he had rushed out of his quarters and down the corridors as quickly as he could. He didn’t think the baby would be born in the next few minutes, but he didn’t want to take that chance. There was no way he was going to miss his son being born. His own father had missed his birth. Seven had promised himself the second he had heard that he was going to have a son that he would not end up being like his father; that he would always be there for his kid, no matter what. He wouldn’t turn his back on his son...

Suddenly, in the middle of the hallway, Seven stopped.

Speaking of turning your back on people...

Across the corridor, walking opposite of the direction that Seven was running in, was Jace Sidrona. As always, his face was implacable. A flat, emotionless wall. Reaching out with the Force to get a grasp on what he was feeling would be pointless, too. Jace kept his cards very close to his chest at all times. It had been nine months since the Narska Plo’kre incident, when Jace had “pretended” to join forces with the Bothan in order to take down Sith Squadron. To prove his “loyalty,” Jace had hunted down each Sith in turn until only he and Palin were left standing. Jace had become overconfident, though, and together, Palin and Seven had stopped him. However, Jace had later explained his actions, rationalizing every decision and choice he had made during the incident.

No one believed him.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Reno did, Sadow knows why. Fox claimed to have understood his motives in doing what he did. Ryvo didn’t seem to care one way or another, though he was still fuming over doing a job to a sleeper hold. As for everyone else, well....Jace had never been very popular on the SSD, and was even less so now. In the last nine months, outside of business, Seven didn’t think he’d seen Jace so much as say a word to Jen, Thunder, Sky, Star or especially Skate. Boy, had Skate been pissed off after the incident. Seven was pretty sure that Jace tried to be on the opposite side of the SSD as Skate whenever possible, for his own protection. As far as Seven went...they hadn’t spoken to each other for nine months. He never talked to him personally, and even tried his best to avoid talking to him when it related to business. If they were in a dogfight and Jace had an enemy on his six he didn’t know about...oh well. He’d find out, sooner or later. Seven figured it was the least he owed him for all of the havoc he had caused.

In front of Seven, Jace continued to walk. Seven studied his expressionless face for a quick moment. He silently wondered what it would be like to live every day of your life, feeling no real emotions, never expressing any true feelings. He was pretty sure that Jace lived his life like that, day in and day out. In some ways, he pitied him. Seven didn’t need to be any kind of prophet or seer to know that Jace Sidrona would never be happy in life. One quick glance into his eyes could tell any perceptive person all they needed to know. This was a man who lived for duty, and for nothing else. His only goal in life was to accomplish whatever mission was set before him, by whatever means. Things like compassion, friendship, happiness...they meant nothing to him. He knew only duty.

Seven allowed himself the briefest of smiles.

That wasn’t entirely true. When Jace had been on the ground, his leg broken, his face beat up, with Seven’s lightsaber blade inches away from his throat, he had known something else...

Fear.

It was a lesson Seven had been more than happy to teach him. 

Seven brought himself back to the moment as Jace stopped in front of him. The Bakuran Sith was caught a bit off guard. In the last few minutes he had been preparing himself to be a father, he hadn’t been preparing himself to talk to Jace for the first time in nine months. In fact, he was a bit surprised that Jace was taking the first step here. He normally wasn’t one to try to rebuild burned bridges.

After an awkward silence, Jace finally spoke.

“I heard Palin’s gone into labor,” he said, his voice even. “Congratulations.”

A rush of emotions welled in Seven, and thoughts overtook him. The last nine months of hurt feelings, anger and bitterness boiled up inside of him, and Seven responded to the compliment the only way his brain knew how.

He punched Jace.

Right in the face.

It felt good. Very good.

Jace reeled back and clutched his nose, but didn’t fall to the ground. Seven was surprised to see that when Jace found his bearings he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even going to strike back. He was just going to accept it.

“I guess I deserved that,” the Tatooinian said.

“I guess you did,” Seven muttered. “Out of my way. I’m in a hurry.”

Seven pushed himself past Jace and continued down the corridor, this time at a brisk walk instead of a run. At the moment, he didn’t feel like running. Bumping into Jace had ruined his good mood a bit. And surprisingly enough, punching him hadn’t made it better. Well...maybe a little better.

Suddenly Seven felt a hand on his arm and he was spun around quickly. He was again staring into the cold eyes of Jace Sidrona.

“I did what I had to do, Seven,” he said.

Seven shrugged off Jace’s hand and turned his back to him without saying a word in response, then walked off again. Jace didn’t deserve a reply.

Psh...what he had to do.

Anyone else in the squad would have taken out Narska at the first chance and explained their actions later. But not Jace. He hadn’t turned about face until it became apparent that Narska wasn’t going to succeed. Very convenient.

“Hey!” he heard Jace yell. “Don’t you turn you back on me, Seven!”

Seven stopped. He turned around, his eyes glaring daggers at Jace. His response was simple. It was one of the biggest lessons he had learned during the Narska Incident. During his time with the squadron.

“No, Jace...I won’t ever turn my back on you again. Ever.”

With those final words, he turned around and headed for sickbay, preparing himself for what was sure to be a memorable night.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Captain Eltrar Vanicus stood on the bridge of the SSD, staring out of the BigAss Viewport at the stars, as his crewman worked diligently at their posts. Like most nights, minus the noise from the computers and murmurs from the crew, it was rather quiet on the bridge. Boringly quiet, if you were to ask him. One would think that being the captain of a Super Star Destroyer would be incredibly exciting. Think of the places you could go, the things you could see, the planets you could...uh....annihilate with your awesome array of firepower.

Truth be told, Vanicus was bored. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been in a battle. The last really big battle Sith Squadron had taken part in was one he wasn’t even a part of, at least not combat-wise. It had been the big battle against the Terrors of Space -- TOS for short -- pirate force. His role in the battle had been that of a prisoner. Sith Squadron had been there to free him. He hadn’t even been given the opportunity to blow something up.

The last real battle he was in was something he would really rather forget ever happened. It was about eight months ago. During one of Reno’s...er, episodes, he had concocted a “brilliant” scheme. He had created his very first super weapon, which he said he would use to rule the galaxy. Unfortunately, he modeled the weapon after his...um...rather ample posterior, and named the weapon the “Anus of Reno.” Despite the shape of the weapon, and its name, it was rather quite deadly. Its main weapons fired asteroids out of the rear, and a secondary weapon shot out a toxic gas. However…despite the sheer lethality of the Anus of Reno, it was still an unbelievably embarrassing incident, and one he really wished he had not taken part in.

Truth be told, I think everyone wishes that incident would vanish from all records...

So here he was now. Standing in front of the viewport, hands clasped tightly behind his back, his mind drifting off in every which direction. What he wouldn’t give for something to do! A skirmish with pirates, a raiding party, a convoy to hit...just something to do! It had been so long since Vanicus had seen any action. He was itching for something. For anything.

And that was really the crux of his problem. It had been well over a year since he had been engaged in a real battle. A small part inside of him wondered if he still had it in him. He hated to admit it, but he wasn’t exactly a young man. At fifty-six years old, he was by far the oldest on the ship, the most experienced. However, because of that, he was also the most tired. He had gone through fifty-six years of life, with thirty-eight of them in service to one military or another.

Because of the Old Republic’s lack of demand for recruits in their minimal space fleet, he left Coruscant at eighteen years old age and headed for the Corporate Sector. There, he immediately joined the Corporate Sector Authority. He got his initial military training there, and served with them for a good 12 years. And then...the Clone Wars hit. As a loyal citizen of Coruscant, he couldn’t stand by in the CSA and watch a war tear apart his home. So he quit the CSA, and offered his services to the Republic. He served admirably in the Clone Wars, even going as high as commanding his own ship, the Cerberus. Then, of course, the Empire came. That was just not what he had signed up for. Everything the Empire stood for, Vanicus saw as wrong. He was about to resign his commission and return to the Corporate Sector when he met him. When he met the man who had changed the course of his life. Darth Odium.

Odium had convinced Vanicus to assist in the theft of a prototype starship, a vessel so big it was unheard of in its time. Something called a “Super Star Destroyer.” It took some doing -- well over a year’s worth of planning -- but eventually, with the help of many loyal soldiers, they did it. They had stolen the prototype model and made a clean getaway. The ship hadn’t even been completely finished at the time, with only its sublight and hyperdrive engines online. But it was all they needed. Vanicus took the ship and arrived at the planet that Odium had instructed him to deliver it to: a frigid, barren ice planet called Rhen Var. However, when he got there, he found that Odium was dead, killed by his apprentice, Reno. From that point on, he had a new master.

Vanicus knew that serving under Reno would be far different than what it would have been like to serve under Odium. For better or worse, he didn’t know. But he knew it would have been different.

There were times -- many times -- when he thought about hanging his hat up and retiring. He was fast approaching sixty years of age, which was a respectable age for a naval officer to resign at. More to the point, though, he just wasn’t sure he could do any good here on the SSD. He wasn’t sure he had been doing any good for a while now. All he ever seemed to do these days was get dressed, stand on the bridge, stare out at the stars and make sure duty rosters, checklists and cargo manifests were completed. Any idiot could do that. Anyone half his age could do that. Those were jobs for the lowliest of ensigns, not for decorated war heroes and captains of Super Star Destroyers. He should either be out fighting the good fight...or at some small cabin, away from civilization, sitting out on a small wooden boat, trying to catch fish in a lake devoid of fish.

He stared out at the stars some more. It was going to be another long night.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Xavier stood on the bridge of the Scimitar, a modified Space Grazer-class warship, his eyes intently locked on the hyperspace star lines in front of him. He wasn’t thinking about the stars, though. His mind was focused entirely on his mission. This was it. This was the opportunity that he had been waiting for. The opportunity that he had been training for. This is what his entire life had been leading up to. Xavier was a strong believer now in destiny. He believed that everything in his life had happened for a reason. That every choice and every decision he made, and even those not made by him, had a reason and a purpose, even if he didn’t know or understand what they were. Up until one year ago, he had been lost. He was goalless. Mindless. He was an immature adolescent with no purpose in life. Now, though...he had a goal. He had a purpose. And for the first time in his life, he knew his destiny. He understood why the choices in the past had led him here, to this point in life, on the bridge of this ship, with this mission.

He was Vengeance Incarnate, and it was his job to administer death to those who deserved it. And there were no people in the galaxy who deserved to die more than the pilots of Sith Squadron.

Xavier reached out with the Force, feeling the presences of the crewmen on his ship. He could feel their nervousness, as none of them had ever been in a battle as big as this one was about to be. They weren’t afraid to die, though. None of them. Instead of dwelling on their fear, they were using it. Using it to power and fuel themselves into doing well in battle. They were a well trained crew, and Xavier knew that they would do well. He trusted and believed in them. The exact opposite of what Sith Squadron had felt for him.

He felt another presence. That of his Master. He was calling for him.

Xavier turned to his second, Commander Targ. “What is our ETA?”

“Ten minutes, Lord Xavier.”

“Excellent.” He turned and started for the door. “I need to leave for a minute. I will return before we exit hyperspace. Make the final preparations, Commander.”

“As you desire, Lord.”

Before he left, Xavier took one last look over the bridge. His crew worked quickly, efficiently, and loyally. They were prepared for this battle. Like him, they lived for this battle. Sadly, some of them would die for it. He smiled. No matter. That was how battle went. Some always had to die. It was the way of things.

He smiled. This was sure to be one hell of a battle, and one hell of a night.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Xavier entered his master’s meditation chamber, a small, round darkened room aboard the Scimitar. Although he couldn’t actually see any details of the room, he knew it well enough. It was a round room with a low ceiling. In the middle of the room was a large chair in which is master sat meditated in. There were no lights in this room, as light had no meaning to his master. For him, life was infinite darkness. And death, Xavier suspected, would be eternal darkness.

As his eyes began to adjust to the gloom, he was able to make out details of the chair, and could barely see the outlined form of his master. He was, of course, in his chair, his elbows on the armrests, his hands folded neatly in his lap. His long, black hair was pulled behind his head in a ponytail. The shadows in the room played across his face, hiding its harsh, jaded form. Most notably, though, the man’s hollowed out, empty eye sockets seemed to stare at Xavier, as if studying him. As if they could actually see him. But one didn’t need eyes to see if one had the Force.

Xavier dropped to one knee. “You called, Lord Xanthis?”

Xanthis nodded once. “I wanted to make sure that you are ready for this mission.”

“I have never been more ready for anything in my entire life, Lord,” he responded.

Xanthis studied him for a moment, then nodded again. “As I suspected. Everything is ready, then?”

“Our men are prepared.” Xavier hesitated before speaking again. “Are you sure you don’t want lead one of our forces? Commander Targ would be honored to have you take command of the fleet, and you know I would willingly relinquish control our ground forces to you. You would be a valuable asset in our mission. I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that I think you rskills are being incredibly wasted on this mission. I would feel much more comfortable if you took an active role in the assault--”

“No,” Xanthis cut him off. “I have meditated upon this for a while. My lot in this mission is not that of a naval commander, nor of a ground troop leader. Commander Targ knows what to do, and so do you. My purpose in this mission will be...something else. What, I do not know yet. The Force will tell me.”

Well the Force had better hurry the hell up, he thought to himself.

“If you will have it, Lord, I will return to the bridge.”

“Of course,” Xanthis said. “The Force be with you in your mission, young Xavier.”

Xavier nodded. “And with yours, Master.” Whatever it may be, he added in his mind.

Bowing again, Xavier stood and left the meditation chamber. He walked towards the bridge, his eagerness and anticipation reaching its boiling point. Soon. Oh so very soon, he would have his revenge against Sith Squadron. He would show them what a mistake they had made in how they had treated him, in how they had ignored him. They were going to pay for what they did. They didn’t know it yet, but Vengeance was coming, and they were not going to survive the night.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“What’d I miss?! Did I miss anything?!” Seven yelled as he burst into sickbay. After his brief encounter with Jace was over and Seven had realized that he was about to be a father, his mood had picked up again. He sprinted the rest of the way to sickbay, again knocking down anyone who got in his way.

He was surprised to see that the sickbay waiting room was already full. News had apparently spread very quickly, as most of Sith Squadron was already present. Everyone sans Jace, of course, who was off doing whatever the hell it was that he did, and Star and Palin, who were in the other room, getting ready. He was met with cheers of congratulations and back slaps all around. Most everyone seemed rather anxious, as this was going to be the first child born on board the SSD, let alone in the squadron. It was something of a big day. After he had been assaulted with hand slaps and words of congratulations, Star had come out and told him to come in. She had him don some doctor scrubs first, though, and had him wash his hands, as everything in the operating room was completely sterile. Once he was cleaned up and in the proper attire, she had let him in.

Palin was lying on a bed, her face already red and dripping with sweat. Her normally styled hair was messed up and shooting off every which way. To say she didn’t look happy would be a huge understatement. However, once she saw Seven, her face lightened a bit and she smiled and she held out her hand for him.

“Hey,” she said, her voice light and soft. “Come here.”

He walked over and took her hand in his. He smiled back at her.

“How are you?” he asked.

Suddenly, her face lost the little happiness it held. She pulled him forward until he was inches away from her face. “How the hell do you think I am!?” she burst out. “I’ve got a huge ass baby trying to squeeze out of me, I hurt all over, and this is YOUR FAULT! And to make it worse, not only are you late, but your dumbass is standing there with a stupid grin on your face, like this is some magical freaking moment. Let me tell you something, pal, if the baby was trying to come out of you, you wouldn’t be smiling. Now either wipe that smirk off your face and do something productive, or get the hell out of here before I beat the hell out of you for doing this to me!”

Seven finally broke her grip and took a step back. He turned his head and saw Star, trying her best to contain laughter. Seven forced a smile back onto his face. “We’re both very happy about this,” he told her, with a straight face.

Star nodded, still holding back the laughter. “I can see.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Sir, we have multiple ships coming out of hyperspace,” Vanicus heard an officer yell out. Vanicus’s mood instantly perked up. Finally! Something to do!

“Distance?” he asked. “How many?”

“Looks like we got thirty ships ‘bout a hundred thousand klicks out.”

“Thirty?” Vanicus echoed, trying not to sound too ecstatic. “Can you pick out their types and classes, Homer?”

The heavyset sensor operator paused. “They all appear to be transport vessels, except for four Corellian Corvettes that are running escort.”

“New Republic ID signatures?”

“Negative, Captain,” Homer responded. “Looks like an independent shipper.”

“Slice into their computers and check their cargo manifests,” Vanicus ordered.

“Already on it, Captain.” There was another pause. “Looks like a good load, sir. Spare parts for starfighters, lots of small arm weapons, and...wow, that’s a lot of Whyren’s Reserve.”

Vanicus smiled. “Excellent.”

He walked over to the communication console and motioned for the communications officer to yield the controls to him. He punched up the comm code and programmed it to send on all channels, so that the incoming ships would pick it up. “This is Captain Eltrar Vanicus of the Super Star Destroyer SSD to incoming vessels. Respond immediately.”

No answer.

He repeated his statement.

Silence.

He was prepared to give it a third try when the comm unit told him it was receiving a signal. A video screen came alive, giving him the picture of a young freighter captain. “This is Captain Marko Glinn of the Corellian Corvette Bloodstorm. What do you want, Vanicus?

“Oh, good, you decided to be smart. If you keep this up, you’ll live to see tomorrow. You have invaded our space lanes, Captain Glinn. I’m afraid that I have no choice but to liberate all of your cargo from you. I know, I don’t like it either. But rules are rules.”

“The Perlemian Trade Route is a free trade zone,” Glinn shot back. “No one owns it.”

“You are quite wrong there, my young friend. You see...we are much, much bigger than you. And we can blow you out of the sky before you even have a chance to blink. Therefore, we own this area. And therefore, all your cargo are belong to us.”

“Not a chance, Vanicus. We’ll all die before we hand our cargo over to you.”

Vanicus sighed. “Well now, that truly is a pity. I’m going to order you to power down all of your engines, shields and weapons. This will be your only warning. If you do not comply immediately, you will be met with lethal force. Do you understand?”

“Understand this!” Glinn gave him a rather rude finger gesture, then the signal was abruptly terminated, leaving Vanicus to stare at an empty screen.

He let out a disapproving hmph. “How uncivilized of him.” Vanicus stood up and walked to back to the viewport, then turned around and faced his men. “Battle stations, everyone. This is not a drill. I want shields up and weapons hot, and I want it now.”

Vanicus stared back out at the thirty oncoming freighters. Surely they knew they had no chance at all of winning. Why would they sacrifice their lives to protect some weapons, spare parts and alcohol? It didn’t make any logical sense at all. Oh well. People of such low class hardly ever made sense, anyway. He was used to it. However, he never had to put up with people like that for too long. Usually they ended up on the receiving end of a turbolaser blast from the SSD. Problem solved. And, he figured, this new problem would be solved rather quickly. Thirty freighters and a couple of Corellian Corvettes were no match for the might of Sith Squadron and the SSD.

And speaking of Sith Squadron...

He grabbed his comlink.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Reno stood with the rest of the Siths in waiting room, eagerly anticipating the arrival of Seven and Palin’s son. This was a very important day for Reno. This would be the first Force-strong individual ever born in Sith Squadron, or for the first person ever, for that matter. And yes, he was Force-strong. Reno could feel it already. Very strong. He couldn’t tell yet just how powerful, and he wouldn’t be able to until the baby was born, but he had a good feeling about this kid. He was going to be strong.

There was another first for Reno today. This would be the first chance he got to teach an apprentice the ways of the Dark Side from day one. He had made many mistakes in the teaching of his original two apprentices, Xanthis and Jace. As Jace’s training had progressed, Reno had made even more mistakes. As well, the training of the entire squad was probably done haphazardly and incompletely. While most of the squadron was very powerful, he felt that they had never reached their true potential. The fault for that lie with Reno.

But this new kid, he was important. He represented to Reno an opportunity. A chance at redemption. He could correct all of his past mistakes through this boy. He could take him and teach him the way he should have taught the others. He was going to mold this kid into a real Sith, into the darkest warrior that ever stepped foot in the galaxy. That kid belonged to him. It was going to be his savior, his redemption, his legacy.

His comlink beeped, interrupting his thoughts. He angrily picked it up.

“I thought I said no interruptions,” he barked harshly at whoever was on the other end of the comm.

“Sorry, Lord Reno,” Vanicus‘ voice came back. “But we have a problem. A large convoy of thirty ships, with escort, popped out of hyperspace. I ordered them to stand down, they refused. They want to fight.”

Reno didn’t see the problem.

“So blow them out of the sky,” he said.

“I intend to, eventually. But I thought you would want their cargo. It consists of spare parts for starfighters, small arm weapons, and Whyren’s Reserve.”

Thunder, who was asleep at the other side of the room, awoke suddenly. “Did someone say Whyren’s?”

“Thank you for alerting me, Captain. Prepare the SSD for battle. I’ll get the Siths to their fighters. Use ion cannons only on the freighters. Destroy the escorts.”

“As ordered, milord,” Vanicus said, and the transmission ended. While he always loved having a new supply of Whyren’s Reserve aboard the ship, the timing of this really sucked. He really wanted to be here when the kid was born, so the boy could get used to Reno’s presence from the very start. Oh well. This wouldn’t take long, anyway.

Reno cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Everybody report to their fighters, immediately. We’ve got a small problem outside. I’ll explain when we’re there.”

As everyone was piling out of the room, he heard a voice behind him.

“Do you want me to go, too?”

Reno turned around and stared at Seven. He had a feeling that they would need everyone they could get out there, but it didn’t seem quite right to ask Seven to go now.

“No, you stay here with Palin and Star. It’s where you belong right now.”

Seven smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *