A pilot's salary wasn't much, but it was enough to afford a home that was comfortable for one's wife and children. The Rand home was a modest house built in the rather bland, Imperial style that was common to Murmamn City. It was situated in a residential neighborhood on one of the gentle, wooded hills that overlooked the city. Karen Rand stood on the balcony with her infant son, Dylan, in her arms. The acrid smell of smoke still lingered, even here in the hills. The Republic's tremendous warships, medical ships, and relief ships could be seen faintly in Baltimn's green blue sky. The scene was exactly as Tighe had imagined it. It was then that Karen was overcome with a sudden feeling of dread. She felt Tighe as sure as if he were standing beside her, holding her and Dylan in his arms, and a moment later he was gone. Not only gone from Baltimn, as he was from time to time, but gone. But that final impression of him remained. Of a man who was at peace, resigned to what he must do, his only regret that he could not be there with them and to see Dylan grow up. She leaned heavily upon the railing, and slid down it until she sat upon the floor of the balcony. She hugged Dylan close, and looked up into the sky with tears welling in her eyes. Tighe was gone, but he had given her the strength to go on and the knowledge that, somehow, he would always be with them.
Had Tighe Rand been Force sensitive? It was possible. Baltimn was known for contributing large numbers of students to the Jedi Orders, old and new. And Rand was intuitive, both in the cockpit of the Alpha Two and with his wife and son. But the Force was a mysterious thing. Sometimes people who shared a intimate connection, or love, for each other had experiences similar to the one that had just occurred, whether or not they were Force sensitive. After all, a pirate fleet was insignificant next to the power of the Force. And the power of the Force was insignificant next to the power of love.
Back at the lonely, empty space at the edge of the Tatoo system, a thin cloud of debris drifted in all directions from where Alpha Two had exploded a moment before. Tighe and the others, including the other pirate, had died instantly and without pain when the reactor exploded. Everything inside the ship was vaporized, leaving behind only some small, harmless fragments of the durasteel hull. The R-41 starchasers had been far enough away that they would not be harmed in the blast. The YZ-775, however, would not be so fortunate.
In all, it had been a pyrrhic victory for the Ebon Fist pirates. They had captured the eight fighters they sought, but they had done so at the cost of over a dozen of their men, not to mention considerable damage to the fighters themselves. They were also running out of time to claim their prizes, since the Z-95's that had escaped to Baltimn would, inevitably, inform the Republic what had happened and return to this spot with reinforcements from half a dozen Republic worlds.
But something else had happened here. These men, proud members of the Baltimn Defense Force, had made a stand. They had refused to be a prize to pirates, or worse. And they had died with some dignity, and some measure of redemption for what they had done back on Baltimn. It was not complete redemption, by any means, but it was enough to die in peace. And peace, now, descended over this place.
