Prologue

“That was a little odd, don’t you think?” Leia asked.

“Yeah,” Han drawled. “Devis was a good guy, sure, but---“

“Is the Grand Admiral married?” Jaina inquired.

“No.” Leia replied. “They say he’s never made the time for it. Why do you ask?”

“Because,” Jaina said, remembering what she’d just felt in the Force, “I think Devis was his son.”

* * *

It was as simply cruel as that. Supreme Commander Gilad Pellaeon’s only child was dead.

He sat in the darkness of his ready room on his star destroyer; a weapon of mass destruction, now at peace for the moment after the communications failure had prompted momentary chaos among the order he tried to maintain. He had sent out ship after ship, wing after wing, and fighter after fighter. One of those fighters had held his son; one of those fighters had borne his son to his death. He would never grow as old as his father; he would never have a child of his own to be proud of or to cherish. He would never marry…all because a chaotic enemy had invaded their known galaxy, hell-bent on destroying everything in their paths because they did not approve of the current resident’s way of life. .

That chaos had claimed his son. Devis…how lost Pellaeon had been when his mother sent him to join him in Imperial space. He had had no notion of how to raise a child, so she had seen to it since the boy’s birth. But when Devis reached adolescence, a danger presented itself to her in a rather familiar form to Pellaeon and she was forced to send her child away to protect him. He only found out later that she had survived despite Thrawn’s attempts to capture her for her refusal to aid the Empire in his campaign. While Devis had maintained ties with both his parents, they themselves had not spoken in years. Not out of spite, or anger; it was simply that they were comfortable knowing the other knew they were alive and well. From what he’d gotten out of Devis, she had been conned back into service by an old friend of hers, Talon Kaarde, to fight against the Yuhzaan Vong, even though she was getting rather old. Now he had to find her and tell her that their son was dead. He had told countless parents of their child’s death but it was different when saying it about his own child.

And hers.

Oh yes, Devis had gotten her characteristics of personality; two of a kind. Crafty, elusive and wretchedly good at what they did. And just like his mother, he had those eyes. Everything else, from his build to the receding hairline, was of Pellaeon but those eyes had come directly from mother to son.

Ajani.

Even now, in his time of grief, her name brought warm memories to his mind, memories of the few nights she accorded him, memories of what one of those nights resulted in, and memories of that little smile. A smile that suggested she knew something he did not and found it highly amusing. And memories of the two years he spent chasing her halfway across the galaxy and back, playing a game of hide and seek that she inevitably won. He had always found it astonishing that while he had a star destroyer and a thousands number crew, and she had her swift little ship and her crew of four, that chase had always been one sided. Her sided. He couldn’t help but smile as the tears flowed from his cheeks. How would he tell her? He knew what people said. No one knew Devis had been his son; people always said that he had never made the time for a family. He rarely made the time for anything except his duties. That was not entirely accurate. He never made the time for anything but his duties…except for Ajani.

* * *

Chapter 1 ~ Pray for the Hunters

Nearly 40 years earlier…

“Sir, the ship has vanished from our scanners!”

“I see that, Ensign. Try to locate it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Captain Gilad Pellaeon resisted the urge to grit his teeth. Those blasted pirates always seemed to be a few steps ahead of him. He had to puzzle out how one little ship with a crew of four could keep ahead of a Star Destroyer crewed by the finest Imperial officers the Navy had to offer.

‘Spunk. That’s how. Sheer obstinacy backed by an outrageous amount of no-doubt illegal toys and unorthodox tricks up their sleeves. A stubborn refusal to just wait quietly and be captured.’ With a barely audible sigh, he turned and walked slowly from the viewport towards the central console on the bridge of his ship, the Chimarae as it faced the now empty space where just a moment before, the sleek little pirate ship had been.

Aptly named, the Dodger had evaded and dodged countless ships sent out to capture it and it’s eccentric crew of smugglers. These smugglers were of a different type than usually associated with the term; these were unpredictable smugglers. Unlike Talon Kaarde or Jabba the Hutt, they dealt in whatever suited their fancy at the moment, be it information, weapons, medical supplies, spare parts, highly illegal drugs or spice, etc. They kept no records except inside their heads. He had heard rumours of chips implanted to keep the information in and of them having an android on the crew but he doubted the last one. The first was most likely what was occurring. How else could they remember such detailed descriptions of plans for Rebels, and how else could they store the specifications for ships only the enemy knew about and was developing. Master disguisers, skilful liars all, and suave charm allowed them access to any place they desired. That, and an annoyingly canny ability to crack codes, passwords and forge identities.

Pellaeon realized that he wasn’t even sure just who the five crewmembers were. They used false names when dealing with others, and despite that he knew there were non-humans among them, they were all the same size and approximate shape, and they were endowed with a wretchedly vexing ability to imitate any voice they chose, making it rather difficult to differentiate one from the other. He wasn’t even sure who the ringleader was. There was at least one tactical intellect; otherwise how the bloody hell did they get away all the time, outwitting him despite all his careful thinking in advance?

He remembered the stories of people called Jedi. Stories told that these individuals had the ability to read minds, to influence, others to make things move with a mere thoughts. He had considered that possibility but after some research, concluded that they were just stories after all; the Jedi were extinct. But it really was vexing how---

“Sir, incoming transmission.”

“Source?”

“Unknown. Uh…the transponder reads…”

“Yes, it reads…?” The ensign turned a strange, helpless expression on him and stammered an answer.

“Nyanya”.” He turned his head with a raised eyebrow but the communications officer raised his hands helplessly. Knowing it was not the young man’s fault, Pellaeon resisted the urge to voice some rather coarse expletives.

“Put it through.”

“Yes, sir.” Gulping, he flipped the switch.

“Ah, Captain Pellaeon. I know who you are, so therefore it is only fair to introduce myself. I am the Captain of your query, the Dodger. Delightful to finally speak to one another.” He was momentarily taken aback. He had expected a man to be in command. Not a woman, and something about her voice, rather than rake on his nerves, as it should have, sparked some rather pleasant thoughts instead. It was suggestively mischievous.

“There is a warrant out for your arrest.”

“Oh, I know that. No need to tell me. Insulting though, that it is only a warrant and not a bounty. And it is for my crew as a whole and not any one individual, so even more offence has been taken.” A gaggle of yeses and rather creative invectives filtered through the mike in four other voices.

“You see, my crew most heartily agrees. Now then, since you have yet again not managed to capture us, we really must offer our apologies; we realise this chasing game must be grating on your nerves. But we simply cannot afford to be captured at the moment; we have far too much to do. Our most sincere apologies; perhaps next time. Until then, we wish you a pleasant existence. Good day.”

Pellaeon blinked twice and then shook his head. A smartass. Lovely. Then he realised she had not actually introduced herself with a name. And he hadn’t had time to point that out. Infuriating woman.

* * *

Present…

Pellaeon smiled at the memory of his first conversation -if it qualified as one, he actually hadn’t said all that much- with the woman who would give him a son. He remembered the frustration he had felt at her sassiness. It was her prime antagonistic quality; she was just plain cheeky. If she wanted something, she went right the hell ahead and got it, never mind that she bothered people in doing so. Bold as you please, but he chuckled as he remembered that she was polite about it, always apologizing when she inconvenienced someone. She apologized to him that day. And the next time he nearly caught the Dodger, and the next time after that…Oh yes, she was polite about wreaking havoc. Such as the time she arrived in time to warn the Rebels of an impending attack, giving them time to depart, and had then waited right out side the system and let off their customary ‘nyanya’. Or still, that day she and her crew had made off with the medical supplies destined to the Imperial Academy…now that had been memorable. The little snits had sent back a box with band-aids with a complementary bottle of synthetic Whyren’s reserve. Most insulting.

Pellaeon chuckled to himself as he remembered. Such things had been insulting back then but seemed trivial now. He found it amazing how his views had changed. This war, lost friends, lost family. And yet, how things stayed the same. It all came back down to she and he. They had started it, they had finished it and they were still going strong. Through it all, they came through. He raised his glass in salute to the stars through the window and spoke aloud, hoping his son might hear him wherever he was.

“Here is to you Davis, as I used to tell you when you were little and I would run into your mother. Ajani. Her name is still like a song when I say it out loud. A song for Ajani. I told you a thousand times that you must respect her and all women. I told you a thousand times that you must love her no matter what she may be like. She was no ordinary woman, your mother. Oh no…Most imperials desire women of beauty and wealth. What I fell for… or rather, crashed for, was a woman of beauty and stealth. I was sent to capture her. To bring an end to her pirating of information. This was before I met Thrawn, before you were born before even the Skywalkers made their mark. This was during the glorious Imperial days. When we ruled supreme. But could she stick to the rules? Noooo, not your mother. Ajani the Pirate. Ajani the Rebel. Ajani the Thief. She stole my heart. She gave it back to me in the form of a son. And I was always suspicious that she was not entirely human, despite her appearance. For no human could have eyes like that. Eyes of blue midnight space. No, those could not have been human eyes. And those eyes still bore in my mind. Your eyes…my son.” He felt the tears running down his old cheeks and he felt alone more now than ever.

“Hello, Gilad.”

* * *