The bridge of the "Unwavering Decree" hummed with tightly controlled tension. Officers moved with practiced efficiency, their gray Imperial uniforms pristine despite the battle raging around them. Unlike the chaos aboard the "Enlightened Justice," here there was order, purpose, and the cold calculation of predators closing in on wounded prey.

  Captain Voss Tarrick stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the rebel vessel's desperate evasive maneuvers through the main viewport. His thin lips curled into a smile that never reached his eyes.

  "Status report," he demanded, voice clipped and precise.

  "Their shields are failing, sir," the weapons officer responded. "Main engines operating at reduced capacity. They can't outrun us now."

  "And they can't outfight us," Tarrick added. "Never could." He turned to his first officer. "Prepare boarding parties. I want the Jedi taken alive if possible."

  "Sir," the first officer hesitated, "the Inquisitor gave explicit orders that his men would handle the Jedi personally."

  Tarrick's jaw tightened. He despised these Force users and their mystic authority, operating outside the proper chain of command. But he was no fool. Crossing an Inquisitor was career suicide at best, actual suicide at worst.

  "Very well," he conceded. "But I want our troops ready to secure the rest of the ship. Anyone who aided this Jedi is an enemy of the Empire."

  A hush fell over the bridge as the turbolift doors slid open. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as a figure strode onto the command deck. Tall and lean beneath fitted black armor, face concealed behind a helmet with a distinctive red visor, the Eighth Brother moved with predatory grace.

  Officers scrambled out of his path, eyes downcast, afraid to draw his attention. The Inquisitor ignored them all, focusing solely on the enemy ship displayed on the tactical screens.

  "He's there," the Eighth Brother said, his voice distorted through the helmet's vocoder. "I can feel him."

  Captain Tarrick stepped forward, maintaining a respectful distance. "We've nearly disabled their vessel, Inquisitor. They'll have no choice but to surrender soon."

  The Eighth Brother's helmet turned slowly toward the captain. "Surrender is not an option I'm offering today."

  "But Lord Vader's standing orders regarding Force-sensitives—"

  "Apply to those who might serve the Empire," the Inquisitor cut him off. "Kalden Nyros has proven himself beyond redemption. He made his choice on Corellia."

  The Eighth Brother turned back to the tactical display, gauntleted fingers tracing the outline of the rebel ship. "There's something else aboard that vessel. Something he's protecting."

  He tilted his head, as if listening to a distant sound only he could hear. "Prepare my ship. I will board personally."

  "Sir, their vessel is critically damaged," the tactical officer reported. "Our scans indicate they may be attempting a desperate maneuver."

  "What kind of maneuver?" Tarrick demanded.

  "Unknown, sir, but they've altered course directly toward us and diverted power to forward shields and engines."

  Tarrick's eyes widened in realization. "They're going to ram us! Evasive action!"

  "No." The Eighth Brother's command froze everyone on the bridge. "Maintain position."

  "But sir—"

  "They won't sacrifice themselves," the Inquisitor stated with absolute certainty. "Not yet. This is a diversion."

  He turned toward the launch bay. "Continue the attack. Disable their engines if possible, but do not destroy them. I want Nyros alive."

  As the Eighth Brother strode from the bridge, Captain Tarrick exchanged worried glances with his first officer. Following the Inquisitor's orders might very well get them all killed. But disobeying would definitely get them killed – by the Inquisitor himself.

  "Continue as ordered," Tarrick said reluctantly. "But prepare escape pods for emergency evacuation. Just in case."

  The Eighth Brother's personal craft detached from the Star Destroyer's hangar, sleek and menacing against the backdrop of space. Inside, the Inquisitor removed his helmet, revealing a face marked by old burns across the right side, twisting what might once have been handsome features into a permanent snarl.

  He placed the helmet beside him and closed his eyes, reaching out through the Force toward the enemy vessel. Past the chaos of battle, past the fear and determination of the crew, to the bright, distinctive presence he had hunted for so long.

  "I feel you, Nyros," he whispered. "Your fear betrays you."

  The vision came unbidden – Kalden Nyros standing over him on Corellia, lightsaber held high, face twisted with righteous fury. The moment when the Inquisitor, then merely the Eighth Brother in training, should have died. The moment when Kalden had made his fatal mistake.

  He had shown mercy.

  The warehouse district on Corellia burned around them, the result of their battle spilling into fuel storage tanks. Three dead Jedi already lay at the Eighth Brother's feet – former friends, former comrades who hadn't seen the truth about the corrupt Order until it was too late.

  But Kalden Nyros had proven more skilled than anticipated, his defensive lightsaber form nearly impenetrable, his connection to the Force allowing him to anticipate attacks before they came.

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  The Eighth Brother, face not yet scarred, lay disarmed on the ground, Kalden's green blade at his throat.

  "It doesn't have to be this way, Doran," Kalden said, using the name the Eighth Brother had abandoned along with his Jedi past. "Surrender. Face justice for what you've done."

  "Justice?" The Eighth Brother laughed. "The Jedi idea of justice died with the Republic. There is only power now." He glared up at his former friend. "Do it. Strike me down. Show me how far the mighty Kalden Nyros has fallen."

  For a moment, death seemed certain. Then something shifted in Kalden's eyes – that cursed compassion, that weakness the Emperor had taught him to despise.

  "No," Kalden said, lowering his blade slightly. "I won't become what you've become."

  That hesitation, that single moment of Jedi idealism, had been enough. The Eighth Brother had reached out through the Force, collapsing a burning section of the warehouse onto them both. In the chaos and flames, he had escaped – badly burned but alive.

  And determined that Kalden Nyros would regret his mercy.

  The Eighth Brother opened his eyes, the memory fueling his hatred. The burn scars on his face and body were a constant reminder of his failure that day – and of Kalden's weakness.

  His ship glided toward the "Enlightened Justice," targeting a hangar bay that had been breached during the battle. As he approached, he felt a disturbance in the Force – something beyond Kalden's presence. Something... unexpected.

  The Eighth Brother frowned, focusing his senses. There was another Force presence aboard, fainter but unmistakable. And within it, something else – small, undeveloped, but blindingly bright in the Force.

  His eyes widened in understanding, then narrowed in cruel delight. Oh, this was too perfect. The rumors must be true.

  The righteous Kalden Nyros, defender of the Jedi Code, had broken its most fundamental tenet. He had formed an attachment – more than an attachment. The secondary Force presence could only be a woman carrying a child. Kalden's child.

  The Inquisitor smiled as he guided his ship into the damaged hangar bay. Lord Vader would be most interested in this development. Force-sensitive children were valuable assets to the Empire. And using Kalden's offspring as an Inquisitor would be the perfect punishment for the Jedi's defiance.

  First, though, he would make Kalden watch as he took everything from him.

  Back on the bridge of the "Unwavering Decree," Captain Tarrick monitored the battle with growing unease. The rebel ship's trajectory hadn't changed – they were still on a collision course, accelerating despite the damage they'd sustained.

  "Sir," the tactical officer reported, "sensors are detecting a small craft launching from the rebel vessel."

  "Escape pod?" Tarrick asked sharply.

  "Negative. It appears to be a shuttle. Minimal weapons, but equipped with a hyperdrive."

  Tarrick leaned forward, suddenly understanding. "They're sacrificing their main ship as a distraction. Target that shuttle immediately!"

  "But the Inquisitor ordered us to focus on capturing the Jedi," the weapons officer protested.

  "The Jedi is still aboard the main vessel," Tarrick snapped. "The Inquisitor will deal with him. But whoever's on that shuttle is important enough for them to die protecting. That makes them our priority."

  As turbolaser batteries began targeting the fleeing shuttle, Tarrick opened a communication channel to the Inquisitor's ship. "Sir, we've detected an escaping shuttle. Requesting permission to pursue."

  The response was immediate and cold. "Negative, Captain. Maintain focus on the main vessel. The shuttle is irrelevant."

  "With respect, sir, intelligence suggests high-value targets may be aboard—"

  "Your concern is noted, Captain," the Eighth Brother interrupted. "But my orders stand. The Jedi is your priority. I will deal with any... complications."

  The channel closed abruptly, leaving Tarrick fuming. The Inquisitor was hiding something, that much was clear. But challenging him directly would be suicide.

  "Sir?" the weapons officer awaited final orders.

  Tarrick hesitated, then made his decision. "Target the shuttle's engines only. Disable, don't destroy."

  "And if the Inquisitor objects?"

  "Then we explain we were trying to capture valuable intelligence," Tarrick replied grimly. "Either way, that shuttle doesn't leave the system."

  The Eighth Brother's ship touched down in the damaged hangar bay of the "Enlightened Justice," settling amid the destruction of the earlier battle. Emergency force fields flickered, struggling to maintain atmosphere as the Inquisitor emerged from his craft.

  He reached out with his senses, mapping the dying vessel through the Force. Crew members fleeing toward escape pods, systems failing throughout the ship, and somewhere at the core of it all, Kalden Nyros – his presence a beacon of light against the darkness.

  The Inquisitor unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, the distinctive circular hilt of the Inquisitorius. With a snap-hiss, the crimson blade extended, casting bloody light across the debris-strewn hangar.

  "Run while you can, old friend," he whispered. "It only makes the hunt more satisfying."

  He moved through the ship with predatory grace, following Kalden's Force signature. Unlike the panicked crew, the Eighth Brother was in no hurry. The "Enlightened Justice" was mortally wounded, its destruction inevitable. There was nowhere for Kalden to hide, nowhere to run.

  As he stalked through the corridors, he encountered a group of crew members frantically trying to reach an escape pod. They froze at the sight of him, terror evident in their eyes.

  "The Jedi," the Eighth Brother demanded. "Where is he?"

  One brave officer reached for a blaster. The Inquisitor didn't even break stride as he cut the man down with a casual sweep of his blade. The others backed away, hands raised in surrender.

  "P-please," one stammered. "We're just crew. We don't know anything."

  The Eighth Brother tilted his head, probing their minds through the Force. They were telling the truth – simple crew members, not part of Kalden's inner circle. Useless.

  "Then you're of no value to the Empire," he said coldly, lightsaber rising.

  Minutes later, he continued his hunt, leaving only corpses behind. Such was the fate of traitors to the Empire.

  A sudden shift in the Force made him pause. Kalden was on the move, no longer fleeing toward the shuttle bay but... turning back? The Eighth Brother smiled beneath his helmet. So, the Jedi had sensed his presence and was coming to confront him.

  Good. That would make things simpler.

  He altered his course, heading toward the convergence point where their paths would meet. As he walked, he activated his comlink.

  "Captain Tarrick."

  "Yes, Inquisitor?" came the immediate response.

  "Prepare a boarding party. Elite troops only. I want them ready to secure a secondary target once I've engaged the Jedi."

  "Secondary target, sir?"

  "A Force-sensitive woman. Possibly pregnant. She must be taken alive and unharmed." He paused. "The child she carries is property of the Empire."

  There was a moment of silence before Tarrick responded. "Understood, sir. Troops will be standing by."

  The Eighth Brother deactivated the comlink, satisfaction flowing through him. Soon, he would have his revenge on Kalden Nyros. The Jedi would die knowing that his child would be raised in darkness, shaped into a weapon for the very Empire he had defied.

  It was a more complete victory than the Inquisitor had dared hope for.

  His comlink chimed again – Tarrick's voice urgent. "Sir, the rebel vessel has increased speed. Collision imminent in fifteen minutes."

  The Eighth Brother quickened his pace. Time was running short. But it would be enough – enough to find Kalden, enough to defeat him, enough to make him suffer before the end.

  "Maintain your position, Captain," he ordered. "I will complete my mission."

  As he rounded a corner, he felt Kalden's presence growing stronger. They were close now, drawn together by the Force and by their shared past. Former friends, now mortal enemies.

  The Eighth Brother's scarred lips curled into a smile as he activated both ends of his lightsaber, the twin crimson blades illuminating the smoke-filled corridor ahead.

  "Come to me, Kalden," he whispered. "Let us finish what began on Corellia."