This is a work of fan fiction and all characters and scenes herein are the property of LucasArts.

Contact Quentin at AdmiralHarkov@juno.com or Ulic_Qel_Droma@hotmail.com. Also visit Quentin and Celeste's webpage at http://come.to/sithlords

He'd always known High Command was insane, but this! He glanced up for a second, gazed over at the crew pits down in the main part of the bridge, then out the large viewports, sighed again. Nothing but asteroids. Another jolt sent him clutching his console trying to regain his balance. Chasing an unknown ship through an asteroid field was bad; the senior communications officer falling flat on his face was worse. He planted himself firmly in his seat.

Footsteps behind him. He adjusted his controls, then looked up into the face of the Avenger's captain.

"Captain Needa!"

The captain did not smile. His face looked strained and the way he carried himself, too painfully straight, spoke of nervous tension. Kestor lowered his voice. "Terath, are you all right?"

"Don't call me that, Devon. Not on the bridge."

Kestor cocked one eyebrow at him but Needa's expression did not change. If anything, it grew more worried. The dark eyes flicked back and forth, looking at nothing, immersed in some inner battle. Kestor opened his mouth, then decided to keep his mind on maintaining his balance as the ship jolted. Lights flickered. Needa straightened quickly.

"Damage report!"

Kestor turned back to his station, ignoring the deck officers who came hurrying up, holding datapads. He'd only seen Needa look this way a twice: once when the then-cadet had failed his Academy exit exam and once when his son was injured in the fighter crash off Alderaan. Whatever was gnawing at the captain was probably serious. Still, it wasn't his position to ask. Needa would tell him soon enough.

He heard Needa's voice behind him. The captain sounded relieved, though Kestor couldn't make out the exact words.

"Colonel Kestor." All right. If Needa wanted to be formal, he'd be formal.

"Yes sir."

"Any word from the flagship?"

Kestor shook his head. "No. Not since yesterday." He looked up, carefully keeping his expression neutral. "Why?"

Needa didn't reply. Kestor heard the tread of his boots on the metal deck go back down to the main bridge. He sighed, gripped the console hard as another asteroid pummeled the ship.

"We're not going to be able to take much more of this, sir," said the young lieutenant next to him absentmindedly.

Kestor shrugged. "Then we die. If an asteroid punches through our viewport or enough of them hit our hull." He looked over, saw the lieutenant watching him with wide eyes. He smiled grimly. "You think Lord Vader cares what happens to us? All he wants is that ship...and whatever inside it that's so important."

The young officer, obviously shaken, turned back to his console without a word. Kestor watched him, thought that maybe he had been too harsh. He brushed the thought away. There was no such thing as too harsh in the Imperial Navy. Perhaps he'd given the lieutenant a little jolt of reality, even.

There was a loud shout from the main bridge, the com-scan area. Kestor's head whipped around and he half-lept out of his seat. Whoops and cheers. What in the name of the Sith was going on? He saw officers running in from the corridors outside the bridge, puzzlement on their faces.

"Captain Needa! Captain Needa!"

Kestor saw Needa come running from the opposite side of the bridge, keeping that stately manner even while in full sprint. He never knew how Needa did it. Even the first time they'd seen each other back on Carida, Kestor had felt like a farmboy still wet behind the ears while Needa had carried himself with all the grace of an Imperial Senator. The irony of it all; that they'd managed to become friends, that they'd stayed friends for this long, even while Kestor was serving as officer on the Invincible and Needa on the Avenger.

He saw Needa bend down, take a look at the com-scan screen, then straighten up like he'd been shot. The captain turned both ways, like someone who'd lost his sense of direction for a brief moment, then spun around to face Kestor, looking directly at him from that far away.

"Colonel Kestor! Contact the Executor immediately. Tell them we have the ship."

Kestor felt a rush of adrenaline, spun back around to his station so fast that he didn't bother to reply. With trembling fingers he keyed in the appropriate frequency, set the signal to top priority, opened the channel.

"Avenger to Executor. Do you copy?"

Static, then a click and a bored male voice with a slight contemptous overtone. "This is Executor."

"We have the ship."

A silence. Kestor could feel the shock over at the other end of the channel. For the first time he realized that the bridge around him was completely silent, everyone crowded around his comm console. He licked his lips.

"You what?"

Kestor grinned. He yelled across the bridge, "We what?" Snickers from the crowd around him.

"Don't be daft, Colonel!" Needa again, yelling back. "Tell them we've tracked the Millenium Falcon leaving the asteroid field, that we have them on our screens and that we're rapidly gaining."

Kestor swung back around to the comm console, repeated Needa's words to the suddenly speechless comm officer over on the Executor. Another silence, then Kestor could hear the officer yelling to someone over on his bridge.

The Avenger swung hard around, probably to continue the pursuit, and there were exclamations as people around him fought to keep their balance. The officer seemed to have forgotten Kestor was even there, but Kestor kept the connection open just in case. The background yelling from the comm officer broke off and there was a slight scuffling sound and the light on the side of Kestor's comm screen blinked. Visual? He punched a button and the screen flickered, formed into the image of Admiral Piett. Kestor drew in a breath.

"Admiral, sir!"

Piett did not pause. His dark eyes seemed to bore into Kestor's own and he spoke hurriedly. "Avenger, this is Admiral Piett. I have informed Lord Vader of your pursuit. He is awaiting updates and requests that the prisoners be sent over to the Executor immediately once you have captured the freighter. Continue on. Executor out." He paused. "Good work." The image flickered once more and Piett vanished.

Someone whistled. That broke the tension and officers scattered, leaving Kestor alone. He chewed his lip, thinking. When he'd looked over, Needa seemed to have looked even more worried and strained than before. Sure, it was the bridge and no time for talks, but Kestor felt he deserved to know what was bothering the captain.

Needa came hurrying back over. "Did you get through?"

"Yes sir. I spoke with Piett. He said Lord Vader himself is awaiting updates and if we capture the Falcon to bring the prisoners directly to him."

Needa's lips moved in a silent curse. He swung around to leave, but Kestor gripped his arm. "Terath. Something's not right. Tell me."

The captain made no move to free his arm but looked down at him with that tired face. Suddenly he motioned Kestor up to the side of the turbolift. Kestor followed, curious.

Needa stopped. "I shouldn't be doing this on the bridge while we're in the middle of a-"

Kestor interrupted him, waving a hand. "I know, I know. Make it quick."

Needa raised his head and Kestor could see that his expression was one of pure terror. "Devon, Lord Vader is...displeased with me."

Kestor sucked in his breath. "Lord Vader? Why?"

"You remember that mission we had in the Caridan system?" Kestor nodded. "He wasn't very happy about the way it turned out."

Kestor snorted. "Right. Like you had anything to do with the sabotage attacks on the Raven's Wing."

Needa shrugged. "Lord Vader seems to think so. Devon, if I lose this quarry I lose everything." He raised significant eyes to Kestor. Kestor nodded, thoughts flying.

"Terath, that mission was four months ago."

"Lord Vader has a long memory."

"I'm sorry. I really am. Terath-"

Needa waved his sympathy away. "You've known me forever, Devon. If anything happens to me, you know how I wanted this ship to be run. I want you to keep an eye on whoever becomes Captain, make sure he's treating her right."

"Look-"

A deck officer interrupted Kestor's words, speaking in a low voice to Needa. Needa listened, then hastened back down to the main bridge, not giving Kestor a second glance. Kestor rubbed his hands together. They'd suddenly become cold.

He sat down at his console, sending messages as needed to the Executor, keeping them happy. He suddenly felt very tired, emotionally drained. An image flickered in his mind, unbidden, a picture of an exuberant Needa at the Caridan swoop ring, clutching the first prize award he'd won in the yearly race. The ring was illegal, of course, but no stormtrooper could keep young cadets from having fun. They'd been so young back then, a bunch of boys with ambitions bigger than a Star Destroyer could hold. Kestor sighed, keeping the image in his mind as long as possible.

Another shout from the main bridge jolted him back to reality. He jumped out of his chair, ran over to the steps that led down to the bridge. He couldn't believe his eyes. Officers pointing, shouting. Needa, on the command walkway by the viewport by another officer who was pointing incredulously at something outside. Needa stepped back, turned and yelled hoarsely in the direction of shield control. "They're moving to attack position! Shields up!"

Then Kestor saw, through the viewport, the tiny freighter that they'd been tracking for so long. The comment burst from him. "What a piece of junk!"

No one responded. The ship was moving towards them quickly. Too quickly. Instinctively, Kestor flattened himself down on the ground, hearing the shock wave wash over the bridge. Then silence, Needa's voice hard and brittle.

"Track them! They may come around for another pass."

Kestor shook his head as he slowly straightened. Of all the-! With a ship that size, attacking a Star Destroyer was pure suicide. What kind of insane pilot was Vader following?

He waited for the inevitable laser blasts but nothing happened. The clacking of keys on consoles, then a young tracking officer.

"Umm...Captain Needa? The ship no longer appears on our scopes."

Needa stood stock-still for a second and Kestor could see the stunned expression on the captain's face. "They can't have disappeared," he said finally. The shock in his voice was plain. "No ship that small has a cloaking device!"

The tracking officer flipped a few controls, shrugged helplessly. "Well, there's no trace of them, sir."

A beeping from his console startled Kestor and he ran back. A visual transmission again. He pressed the button, expecting Admiral Piett.

Instead, an ominous breathing filled the stunned silence and Kestor found himself looking back at a black, masked face. He bit back the cry that had formed in his throat, swallowed a few times. "Lord-Lord Vader!"

"What is your status, Avenger?" The voice was menacing, terrifying.

Kestor lept out of his chair, ran down the steps to the control walkway, ignoring the icy ball that had formed in his stomach. "Captain, Lord Vader demands an update on the pursuit."

Needa's eyes turned towards him and he involuntarily took a step back. He saw Needa swallowing, then breathe deeply as though he were a drowning man gasping for air. Kestor waited.

"Get a shuttle ready." Needa's voice was hollow, defeated. "I shall assume full responsibility for losing them, and apologize to Lord Vader. Meanwhile, continue to scan the area."

"Yes, Captain Needa." Kestor marched back to his console and repeated the words to Vader with iron self-control. Vader terminated the connection without another word to Kestor and he sat back in his chair, trying to control his breathing, felt his throat constrict. The lieutenant on the other side of him did not glance up.

A breath of air behind him and he jumped to his feet, grabbing at Needa's shoulders. "Terath. Don't do this. Don't do this."

The smile on Needa's face was ironic. "I'm as good as dead anyway, Devon."Take good care of my ship."

"Terath!"

Needa turned, only for a slight second. His eyes struck Kestor. Dark and black and full of the things he could not say. "Goodbye, Devon." The lift closed behind him.

Kestor slumped back into his console, listlessly contacted the hangar and told them to prep a shuttle for the captain. The lieutenant beside him glanced at him, then looked away. He turned off his console, stared at the wall, trying to empty himself of emotion.

But the tears came anyway.