Chapter 50 - Surrender

The Unknown Regions

The Star Forge

In his life, Han Solo could count on one hand the times he had been truly afraid. The sight of the dried blood trailing the walls, however, put every one of the instances to a painful insignificance. Even the carbonite was nothing compared to it, seeing only the nightmare that had kept him awake for the last several years.

He started to run, unable to block out that image. His kids. Rey and Cale. The sight of it gave him a desperate flight, tearing across the hallways as the station shook from impacts and the dull red lighting even going out for several seconds. Ironically, it only heightened his panic, making him ignore his screaming muscles as he turned corner after corner; hoping desperately not to find them in the most expected way.

When he did, when he rounded around to find Rey crumpled in a corner, her body crusted with blood, wounds and burns, he almost screamed. When she limply craned her head around with a pain sound, his heart burst and she was in his arms.

"H-han?" she said weakly.

"It's okay," he whispered as he plucked her up, "I've got you."

He walked to the elevator, seeing the light reach the top. He was half tempted to follow, but the painful mewing from the woman in his arms told him otherwise.

"I'm sorry," he heard her say, "I'm so sorry."

"Shh, it's gonna be okay. You just rest a sec," he pressed the button, calling another lift down, "I'm gonna get us out of here."

"I tried," she cried despairingly, curling into his chest, "I couldn't… I couldn't-"

"It's not your fault," he cut her off, sharper than he wanted, as the doors opened and he stepped inside. He set her down as he pushed for the Hangar Level, taking a proper look at her wounds. He didn't let the horror of the sight of her mangled, burned and broken arm show, or the countless fragmentation wounds that drenched her Jedi robes red.

Though the worst was when she hacked up a torrent maroon blood onto his chest. He couldn't help but feel rage, not only at his son but himself. Where had he gone wrong? How could this have happened? How could he have let this happen?

"It's not your fault," she whispered, reaching up her one good hand to stroke his weathered face. It was then he realized he had been crying silently. He couldn't remember the last time he did that. He put on a smile, squeezing her hand as he brushed hair from her eyes and over her ear. The Station shook again, the lift going dark and stopping for several seconds before the lights came back on.

When they did, Rey's head slumped onto his lap, her eyes closed as he threw away the syringe and turned on his comm, "Chewie, get to the hangar. We're getting off this thing."

In his life, Admiral Ackbar had faced defeat before, even truly catastrophic ones. After all, he had failed to save the life of his king during Admiral Thrawn's assault on his home. The difference however, was that he had been able to recover from each one. Salvage the losses, recover, live to fight another. Even Thrawn hadn't been able to kill the Rebellion.

But this? Watching as the Forge tear apart the Redeemed and the Mandalorian Fleet, watching as The Sword of Coruscant turn its batteries upon Admiral A'Bhait's ships and reduce them to pyres. The haunting screams of his old friend atomized on the intercom left Ackbar hollow and despondent. He slumped into his chair, watching numbly his men, the Fifth Fleet, being picked apart and destroyed by the enemy.

His aquatic eyes slid right however, seeing there the other half of the fleet-Wedge and the Aquillans-fighting on regardless of the hopelessness of the situation. His hands gripped tightly into a fist. He couldn't save A'Bhait's men, but he would be damned if he couldn't save the rest.

"Helmsman," he barked, "bring us to point 6-9-4 and prepare to engage that Dreadnought!"

"Sir?" he asked, horrified, "That'll bring us right on top of them!"

"Our shields are down to 20%," his XO reported, "and we've got hull breaches in sectors-"

"I know," Ackbar said simply, "prepare to engage the Dreadnought."

For a moment, the crew was frozen silent by what was effectively a suicide order. But then they snapped to action, bringing the smoking, battered battlecruiser about to charge the line.

"Prepare a spinning broadside!" Ackbar ordered as the Dreadnought, now realizing what was happening, began to rain fire upon the approaching ship. Promptly, The Intrepid began to spin on its axis, rotating his body about in clockwise fashion as it began to unleash everything it had upon the superstructure.

This allowed them to fire their weapons at full power a section at a time, cooling down by the time the craft spun back around to use them. It additionally allowed them to dissipate the Dreadnought's retaliating fire, preventing them from being able to concentrate their attack on a single point and punch through. The result was The Intrepid tearing across the Dreadnought's hull, destroying decks and batteries left and right as the Dreadnought found itself unable to leverage its tremendous firepower upon the fast and significantly smaller enemy craft.

"Engine and power systems are coming up, sir!" The Weapons Officer reported.

"Good, prepare to slingshot us around its stern and bring up our ion batteries and torpedoes. We'll hit it with everything we have and retreat under its bow."

The Dreadnought caught onto what Ackbar had in mind, desperately attempting to drop low and come about to protect its engine block. However, The Intrepid was too fast and Ackbar too seasoned. The ship's powerful engines came into view and Ackbar gave the order to fire. Sapphire torrents tore out from across the ship, blasting the engines with stupendous ionic energy and causing the shields to completely flutter out.

Unlike the days of Hoth however, auxiliary power systems prevented the engines from fluttering out as well. This necessitated the second barrage of turbolasers and torpedoes, soon reducing entire thrusters to smoking fireballs as the Dreadnought soon lost forward power. Stranded, with only secondary sublight engines left to barely steer it, The Sword of Coruscant was left stranded in place like a clipped Firebat.

The Intrepid came about now, positioning itself for the coup de grace. All Star Destroyer designs place their hypermatter reactors directly in front of the engines for maximum power efficiency. Now crippled and unable to move, Ackbar fully intended to blast his way through the stern and destroy the vessel in one terrific cataclysm.

However, as the ship began to position itself, warning lights began to blare as the Sensor Officer bellowed, "Sir, we've got incoming at points-"

His words were cut off as something struck the side of the ship, causing it to violently quake and sending everyone spilling to the deck.

"Report!" Ackbar shouted.

"Torpedo blasts on the starboard side! We've got incoming!"

"From where?" the XO asked.

"Everywhere!"

Another blast rocked the ship, the crew moving with a flurry of drilled precision to their stations. Ackbar pulled up his tactical display and saw to his horror no less than five capital ships bearing down on him, spearheaded by the second Resurgent. They closed in, the visual showing them unleashing everything they had and The Intrepid simply too slow to get out of the way.

Still, it fought on for a good several seconds, turning to face its attackers and forcing a Victory-III to dive low from the onslaught. Yet, it was not enough. Soon, The Intrpeids shields died and its armor was being peeled away in wretched strips. The enemy began to spread out like an orbakshoe, Ackbar ordering the crew to reverse and keep their nose straight.

For a time, it worked. The ships were kept to The Intrepid's front, allowing them to concentrate their fire and drive another ship back. It didn't last though, as a pair of Acclimator-III's soon ran the line and got behind The Intrepid. Though the exchange left them battered, The Intrepid was the one with shields.

A thundering explosion rocked the ship, and Ackbar found himself sprawled on the floor again. He called for a report, the ironic answer being that they had lost their engines and were stranded without even sublights. Seconds after this, every engaging ship began firing barrage after barrage of ion blasts at them. Electricity crackled everywhere, causing several consoles to detonate and power to gradually splutter out.

Finally, the lights went out, the air began to become cold, and Ackbar felt that he was floating. It didn't take long for someone to find a handlight and confirm their suspicions.

"Everything's out, sir," the XO said, "lighting, gravity, comms… and of course the life support."

"Why didn't they just blow us out of the vacuum?" someone asked, "Very well could've."

"That's why," Ackbar replied, pointing ahead to the now approaching capital ships and a fleet of transports, "they want us alive."

"Your orders, sir?" the XO asked.

Ackbar considered that question. On one hand, they had no power and were operating with a dwindling supply of air. But on the other, they were going to tie up a lot of personnel and time to take them all alive. Time that could be used for everyone else still fighting.

"Pass the word to repel boarders. Tell engineering if they can, get our ship operational again," he looked out the viewport, watching the battle playing out, "we have to hold out a little longer."

With The Redeemed gone along with A'Bhait's right wing, Poe's Black Squadron ironically became the new rallying point for the remaining starfighters this side of the battlefield. New Republic, Mandalorian and Naboo craft swelled their ranks, but that likewise made them a tempting target.

"All squadrons!" Poe said over the comm, "Split up and select targets of opportunity! We need to do as much damage as we possibly can!"

Several acknowledgments replied, and the dozens upon dozens of fightercraft veered off in multiple directions. Poe's wing in turn split into two. One, made up of K-Wing's and Mandalorian heavy fighters and gunships, headed towards the Dreadnought to kick it while it was down. The other led by Poe himself and made up chiefly of X-Wings and N-2's, made a mad rush for the crippled Intrepid.

Caught by surprise, the First Order boarding craft and the escorts scattered as Poe's squadrons slammed right into them. Quickly, the fighters and interceptors tore across the field and began to screen The Intrepid. Incoming TIE's soon responded, the enemy capital ships remaining on standoff as the two fighter groups began to dogfight.

"We're not gonna be able to keep this up forever!" Lu'lu said, his shields buckling under incoming fire.

"Just long enough for The Intrepid to get back on her feet," Poe replied as he fired a pair of torpedoes at an enemy transport, causing it to fire off its countermeasures. Instead of pursuing, Poe veered low right into the path of a pair of interceptors coming for him. He'd sensed them coming before they even appeared on his scope and the surprise was definite.

He unleashed all barrels, piercing the shields of one and shearing away a wing. The other swung left, performing a tight U-turn to get at a better attack vector. Snap however was on him, and Poe turned to see that their efforts were slowly driving off the enemy sorties.

A cold realization suddenly hit him. The capital ships hadn't intervened because they wanted Ackbar alive, but if the fighters pulled out…

"All squadrons!" he said over the channel, "Tangle the bogies! I repeat, Tangle the bogies! Do not let them peel off! Keep them as close to The Intrepid as possible!"

Swiftly, they moved into action and began to pursue the fleeing TIE's, driving them back towards the field and away from the safety of their fleet. The result was more casualties on their side, but it was a necessary price to keep the big guns from entering the fray.

He switched to his own squadron's frequency, "Black Squadron, cover me! I'm gonna contact The Intrepid!"

He swung right, flying and then hovering over the bridge section. Knowing that their comms were down, he resorted to a visual code by flashing his onboard light at them. His message read 'Status?' and after a few seconds, a dim light from within the bridge answered 'Disabled. Power Out. Attempting restart.'

'ETA?'

'Unknown.'

As he relayed the response to the rest of the flights, he suddenly got panicked cries coming from the Dreadnought, "Strikers! Strikers! Break left!"

An entire swarm of possibly hundreds of the droid fighters had suddenly dropped from the Dreadnought itself and were barrelling down upon the bombers and heavy fighters. Emerald fire cascaded across the bow, and the heavier craft swiftly turned about to engage. The vanguard bore the brunt of the combined munitions; laser cannons and flakguns soon tearing the unshielded and fragile craft to pieces.

Poe however watched the formation carefully, noting how they weren't swerving under the fire like a swarm of Naboo Bees. Instead, they were just charging straight at the formation with their engines gunning to the point they were flaring out dangerously.

"Silver Leader, break off! They're going to ram you!"

But it was too late. The droids closed the distance like a pack of missiles, tearing straight through the formation with even some detonating right in the mix. Soon, fighters began exploding in the vacuum, either torn apart by being rammed or from the resulting fragmentation. Soon after, a pair of Lancers appeared aft and moved in to finish them off.

Swiftly, Poe swung his squadron and fired everything they had at looming Frigates. One Lancer exploded in the resulting cascade of missiles and torpedoes, the other just barely able to limp away and hug the Dreadnought for cover. This opened a window for the second wing to escape and strangely the remaining Strikers didn't follow.

BB-8 then alerted him to sudden movement from the outstanding capital ships, and Poe realized the trap. The First Order had drawn his squadron away and had likewise opened a window for their own fighters to escape the melee. Already, the Victory-III's and Acclimator-III's were moving to catch them in a crossfire. Poe bellowed for them all to dive but it was too late.

As soon as the enemy cleared their own, they unleashed a devastating torrent of ion fire. Both wings were hit, fightercraft bustling with arcing electricity as their systems were overloaded and going dead in the vacuum. The unlucky ones were sent tailspinning, crashing into each other and sending debris into the now unshielded craft.

As Poe floated in the vacuum, he took in the terrible sight of the Star Destroyers closing in and tractor beams beginning to pull in his disabled pilots. They didn't just want Ackbar prisoner, they wanted as much of the men who had followed him, too. The prospect of being trapped in the interrogation chamber again panicked him, and he desperately tried to reboot his fighters systems.

He knew though that he wasn't going to have the time as a tractor beam from a Victory-III grabbed him and began to haul him.

Wedge Antilles could only look on with a horrified expression as both Ackbar and Dameron were swiftly taken out of the fight. A'bhait's forces on the other side of the field were unresponsive, the Mandalorians and Naboo likewise not answering any frequency calls beyond the frantic call of their pilots. The cold realization soon sank in that his men, and the remaining Aquillans on his right, were all that was left.

He didn't even have a moment to contemplate this as his comms officer reported them being hailed once more by The Ravager. Admiral Hux came on the line, this time fairly bandaged up but still bearing a satisfied smile.

"Commodore Antilles. Ironic that we should speak so soon again."

"I was never a man for irony, Admiral," Antilles replied, his voice and face utterly hollow. To his surprise, Hux's expression softened.

"Commodore, I will be frank with you. This battle is over. Half your forces have been destroyed or crippled, and Ackbar himself will soon be a prisoner of the First Order. You cannot escape, and fighting on will only lead to more unnecessary death. As the only remaining fleet officer left, you have a decision to make."

To his crew's surprise, Antilles considered the obvious offer, "What are your conditions?"

"Unconditional. You will power down and surrender your ships promptly."

"Admiral, I cannot speak for the Aquillans-"

"I've already sent a similar offer. They refused, citing it was dishonorable to surrender to any foreign power. However, your forces do not need to share their fate."

"I…" he looked to his crew, "I need to discuss this with my command crew."

"I understand. You have three minutes, then I will need your answer."

The comm went dead. Antilles immediately brought up his tactical display and asked, "I need options, people. Can we escape?"

"Negative, sir," his XO reported, "there's a large Interdiction Localization Field up. They would just be able to pull us out of hyperspace."

"What about directly engaging the ships with Interdiction fields?"

It took several seconds to perform local scans, but the answer was the same. "Negative. Most of the ships in the line engaging us have them, and we wouldn't be able to take them all out in time before the rest of the fleet engaged."

He had to ask the obvious, "Can we fight our way out to a new jump position?"

Her sour expression was the only answer he needed. They couldn't fight on and they couldn't escape. He looked at the tactical display, watching as the dwindling remnants of their fleet desperately fought on to no avail, many of them now swept behind the enemy formations. There would be no more reinforcements to come in and save the day, and anything other than surrender would just get them all killed.

They had lost. There was no way around it. Never in his life had the former Rogue Leader ever accepted such a reality, but Hux was right about one thing. He was no longer a squadron leader, and he held the fate of thousands in his hands. He would not kill them over such a thing as pride.

He turned to his XO and said, "Put him back on."

Promptly, the satisfied face of Hux returned to the screen, an old bronze pocket watch in his hand. "One minute and fifty-three seconds, Antilles. How very punctual. Have you made your decision?"

"...I have," Wedge sighed, feeling all life drain from him. He suspected he looked like a ghoul in that moment.

"Then transmit the order and let us bring this killing to an end."

"My men," he said sharply, "you will treat them accordingly to the Treaty of Alderaan?"

"We're not savages, Wedge. Your men have fought valiantly. That has more than earned my respect."

Wedge nodded reluctantly and eyed his comm officer. Lethargically, he keyed in the battlegroup frequency. He swallowed to keep his voice from breaking as he uttered out the dreaded order:

"Attention all Commands, this is Commodore Antilles. I am issuing a stand-down order to all New Republic Forces. Power down your ships and surrender."

A stream of demands for clarification followed, and Wedge had to repeat the order a total of four times. Each left him more and more drained, until he felt completely sick and fell into his seat. His body trembled at the betrayal, but his eyes shifted up to see the First Order fleet had stopped firing.

He barely heard what Hux said next; something about bravery in accepting defeat as he signed off. Wedge didn't care.

Belay that order.

Wedge's head suddenly snapped up as the breath caught in his chest. Life sprung to his limbs as he asked, "Did… did anyone else hear that?"

Their startled, confused faces answered that question and he reached for the comm, "This is Commodore Antilles of the New Republic Navy to unidentified party. Identify yourself."

This is Skywalker.

Inexplicably, on the far side of the battlefield, emerged a single crimson painted Imperial-II Star Destroyer, followed by a pair of old CR-90's and a Dreadnought Heavy Cruiser. Wedge couldn't help but blink at the curious sight, and to his amazement were four more crimson colored Star Destroyers. Seconds later, an entire swarm of fighters began to flood out of the Star Destroyers.

"Get me a visual," he said, seeing a hodgepodge of starfighters, bombers and gunships. Most were Headhunters and T-65 X-Wings, but the ones leading them…

"Starhawks," Wedge grinned, practically glowing at the sight of the distinctive fighter craft.

"Your orders?" his XO asked.

"First, get Hux back on the line. No need to break maritime law by Surrendering under False Pretenses. Second, tell the fleet to form up and hold the enemy in place. I think I know what's going to happen next."

"When the blazes did Sydow get his hands on Destroyers?" Canady asked incredulously, "And what is he doing here?"

"I don't think that's Sydow, Captain," Hux replied, his tone measured, "get me a read and visual on those ships. We need to find out-"

"Sir!" his comms officer called, "Antilles is on the line, requesting to speak with you."

Hux looked at Canady and he just shrugged, "No idea, sir."

"Fine, put him on."

A moment later, Wedge Antilles came onto the view screen. However, he was not the drained, defeated ghoul the Admiral had seen merely seconds ago. Now he was radiant, even smiling smugly at him.

"Admiral Hux, I'm sorry to inform you that I will have to revoke my previous order of surrender, and I will have to continue engaging your forces."

Hux's eyes widened then narrowed, "That's rather bold coming from someone who has been beaten, Antilles. I will have no choice but to destroy you now, regardless of whoever you think these newcomers are."

Wedge leaned in, his smile growing an inch, "Oh I know who they are, Admiral. In fact, I would suggest you surrender right now before things get really ugly."

Hux smiled bemusingly at him. "Come now, Antilles, who do you think these people are?"

"S-sir?" his tactical officer stuttered, "I have the visual."

"And-" Hux turned and his heart stopped. There on the screen, was a superimposed sigil along the side of the Star Destroyer. It was a pair of Phoenix Wings flanking the blazing form of a sword. Hux knew that symbol, clutching at his cybernetic arm. It was the symbol of the New Jedi Order.

"Grand Master Luke Skywalker, to be specific," Wedge said behind him, "I'd suggest praying, Admiral, while you still can."

"Cut the feed!" Canady shouted, grabbing Hux's shoulder, "Admiral?"

"How?" he gasped, feeling the phantom pain in his arm's stump, "They're supposed to be gone."

"Evidently not, sir. What are your orders?"

Open mouthed, he continued to gawk at the one enemy he'd dare-hoped never face again, slowly closing with his battleline. It was a momentary weakness however, his face contorting into a hard, grim scowl.

"Reposition the fleet and order the right wing to cover Sloan until she can bring the Dreadnought back online. Then inform Lord Kylo and Mechos of the situation..."

Author's notes

Yup, they're back, and next chapter is gonna be a whole lot of ass kicking. Starkiller, get ready to eat your heart out.

Oh, and we want to thank Terminator-57, Kamen Rider Raika, darth Queidus and SWEULover2007 for your reviews. Also, I'd like to thank SWEULover2007 for helping us come up with the Jedi compliment and the folks who will be in this fight. Stay safe in the Apocalypse, everyone. That is all.