Hello everyone! Well, I said that I would be doing a rewrite of Dance With the Devil. As you can see, I intend to keep that promise. However, before we go on, there's some housekeeping that needs done.

1) The Star Wars universe will mostly use the new canon with various bits of AU that will be blended in and explained as they become relevant. Also, I would highly suggest reading the Darth Vader comics (the ones with Dr. Aphra). The first reason is that they are really good, in my opinion. The second is that those will give you some extra context about whats going on. However, it is not necessary to read and enjoy this story.

2) This is set post war in the Halo Universe, but there will be some AU around the events with Cortana going nuts. However, like with the other universe, that bridge will be crossed if and when it becomes relevant.

3) Speaking of timing, this is set between Empire Strikes back, and Return of the Jedi.

4) I have not forgotten about The Hidden Danger. Expect an update within the next week.

I believe that covers anything. As always, I would love to know what you all think, and any suggestions that you have. So, without further ado, I give you Chapter 1...

The white light was blinding. Its introduction was followed by a loud pop-hiss as the pressure cylinder sealed around him. Vader pressed the appropriate buttons and unsealed his helmet. Like the rest of his suit, the mask was tar black and seemed to suck the very light from the room. Darth Vader took a series of deep, controlled breaths. Around him, the darkness began to set in. Slowly the monster settled into his cage and the Sith produced the object he wished to examine.

"Rules of engagement, sir?" asked a deep, artificial voice.

The conversation cried out from Vader's memory as he examined the flimsy-plast report.

"Shoot to kill. No survivors," Answered a rage filled voice.

"No survivors." Darth Vader shook his head at the statement. Never before had he had his entire existence summarized so succinctly. No one of consequence had entered his life and lived to tell the tale. They were dead, either in spirit, or in physical form. His mother was dead. The members of the Jedi council were dead. His former master was dead. His Padawan was dead. His wife was dead.

Commander Appo... well he held a strong front, but Vader knew better. He was dead inside- murdered by choices that were not his own to make. Of course, they were not Vader's to make either. Both men had been played by the same puppeteer. Now, with others, they were slowly laying the foundation for his demise.

Darth Vader shook these thoughts clear of his head and focused on the task at hand. Typically, he would be content to receive his paperwork in electronic format. However, he was no fool. The Emperor had both the ISB and Imperial Intelligence watching him. Palpatine was looking for the subtlest hint of the knife hiding behind Vader's back. Yes, the Emperor had given him a long leash, but, like every other leash, his had its limits. For this reason, all conspiracy information was strictly compartmentalized and passed on in the most careful of forms. Few of the people in this plot would ever see the full picture until the operation was nothing but hindsight and regrets.

As he read, Vader watched the chess pieces move in his head. Admiral Piett had just finished moving Vader's last pawn. Death Squadron was Vader's and Vader's alone. Those not expressly loyal to the Sith Lord would have no problems falling in line with their officers. On the other side, Commander Appo and General Veers had just got done identifying the risks in their own units.

He was broken from his thoughts by the chime of his comm link. Vader looked at the code and began pressing the proper buttons to replace his helmet. A curious frown formed on his face as the helmet lowered into place. The Admiral was calling. For him not to appear personally meant that the news was urgent. Vader pressed the activation key.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"We've received a distress call from the supply convoy," Admiral Piett reported crisply.

"The rebels have taken the bait. Move the fleet into position and engage," Vader ordered.

"Yes, my lord," the man answered crisply.

Admiral Piett listened with an attentive ear as his crew worked. Occasionally, he interjected with relevant orders. However, this was a well-oiled crew. Each man knew what he was doing, and what was on the line. Failure didn't mean answering to the Emperor. No. The old fool was nothing more than a figure head out here. In the fleet, everyone's greatest fear was reporting failure to Darth Vader. He was the machine that determined life and death within their ranks.

"Sir, coordinates are ready. All ships are reporting green," announced the ship's captain.

"Very well. You may proceed," he ordered crisply.

There was a muffled pop as the ships jumped into the blue and black void of hyperspace. Admiral Piett spun around as the door behind him hissed open.

"My lord. We just made the jump. We should be there shortly," he hastily reported.

In his time on board, Piett had learned what few others had. Vader didn't expect graveling and elaborate displays of respect. He expected relevant information given quickly, and orders followed precisely.

In response, Vader moved his head in something that barely passed as a nod. Piett took it and went about his work. Two minutes later, he gave the order to exit hyperspace, and the Galaxy was never the same again.

(Home One: ninety seconds earlier)

"Sir, two of the cargo transports are breaking for open space," announced one of the bridge officers.

"Redirect green squadron. We cannot let them escape," Admiral Akbar ordered as his fish-like eyes examined the battle, "Also divert two Corvettes for intercept."

Behind him, the bridge hissed open. Without looking, the admiral knew exactly who it was. He ignored the woman as he continued to direct the battle. The ship rocked violently as a flash of yellow illuminated the port side viewport.

"Tell the Redemption to pull back. There's nothing-"

"Admiral, twelve imperial warships are exiting hyperspace!" cut in a wide-eyed officer.

"Where?" demanded the Princess standing behind him.

"Everywhere. I'm tracking three cruisers, seven Imperial-class, and one Executor," officer answered quickly.

"Show me!" Akbar demanded, refusing to believe his own ears.

Right on cue, a wall of grey flooded the front view port. Everyone in the bridge instantly recognized the ship, and instantly every face in the room drained of color. The first to recover was Admiral Akbar. His mind kicked into over drive as he turned to the holographic battle map behind him. After a couple seconds, the brunette woman gave a him an expectant look.

There has to be a way out, read the expression on Leia's face.

"Sir, the ships are closing at combat speed," reported another crewman.

Admiral Akbar slammed his fist into the table as he searched for a path that didn't exist. It had taken years, but Vader had finally cornered them. To the right was a gas giant that would swallow the fleet whole, and the left, front, and center, all contained hostile warships packed with weapons. Their life was about to get very exciting and very short. Unless...

"Come about to point 2-5-7," the Admiral ordered before opening the ship-to-ship comm channel, "All ships form up on the Home One. Begin docking fighters and prepare for a blind jump-" a violent explosion sent alarms screaming throughout the bridge "-Coordinates will should be transmitting shortly."

The response was drowned out by another blast. This one came as a Corvette just port of the ship was torn in two by the Executor's forward guns. Two seconds later came another explosion, and a third, and a fourth one.

"Admiral, the Copperhead has gone dark."

"Same with the Morning Star!"

"And Hope of Alderran!"

In the span of ninety seconds, twelve Imperial warships had done more damage than what the entire Empire had done in ten years.

"Redemption is reporting critical damage. Her shields are at twenty percent and Captain is requesting to jump now," added in another fourth officer.

As the reports poured in, everyone watched as the first wave of TIE Fighters poured over the ship. Visions of Hoth danced in Admiral Akbar's head as he processed the order. The process of res-assembling the fleet post battle had nearly cost the alliance their entire naval fleet. This was unacceptable and would not be repeated.

"No. Have them fall in behind the Home One. We retreat as one unit," Akbar declared.

"Sir, the Star Destroyers are slowing into static battle positions," cut in his first officer.

The Admiral cast one last, desperate look out the view port as he gave his orders. That's when he saw the opening. Vader had made the most minor of mistakes, but that was all the Alliance Admiral needed. A Star Destroyer known as the Defiance had jumped out at an odd angle above her flagship the Executor. While it ensured the hyperspace lane was blocked, it left a gap where neither ships' guns could effectively reach.

"All ships, drop twenty degrees and push ahead at best possible speed," he ordered before turning his attention, "Navigation. Recompute jump coordinates for a blind jump and distribute them to the fleet."

"Yes sir."

"Captain, what's our shield strength?" the Admiral followed up.

"Seventy percent and holding," answered the crewman.

"Good. Full speed ahead," Admiral Akbar ordered with confidence that he did not feel.

There was a muffled roar as the cruiser's large reactor kicked into overdrive. Voices fell into near silence as the rebel fleet fell into formation. It was viewed on the tactical display as several blue dots gravitating toward their blue arrow. The Admiral's gut churned as blue dot after blue dot winked out. This was promptly followed by a crewman reporting the name of the ship that had just been blown apart.

(ISD Executor)

Darth Vader stood at the back of the bridge. He said nothing, and he did little. Unlike his predecessor, Admiral Piett had earned Vader's approval as an Admiral. As the Sith felt in the force, he could tell the man's skills had not slipped. Fear radiated off every Alliance ship in the fleet, as was to be expected in any battle. However, the bone chilling nature of the aurora told Vader that they had succeeded in surprising the fleet. The fact that these emotions failed to dissipate told Vader that Admiral Piett had the fleet dead to rights and they knew it. Not even their precious X-Wing squadrons could bail them out now.

"Admiral the rebel ships are forming up behind the lead cruiser, and fighters are closing rank," reported an officer from the crew pit.

"Show me," Piett ordered.

The thump of his boots echoed across the cavernous bridge as he marched to the holotable. From his position by the rear blast doors, Vader silently picked apart the board. What he saw looked promising. Admiral Piett cursed under his breath before turning to the crew.

"Tell the Devastator and Avenger to move to point 5-5-6 and focus fire on the rebel flag ship. Tell the cruisers to break off an engage the escorts. I want those Hammerheads out of action yesterday!" the Admiral barked before turning to the Executor's captain, "Drop the nose thirty degrees and depress our forward batteries. We need to get back into the action."

A chorus of "Yes sir." rippled through the bridge as his orders were followed. Vader took one intentional step forward to stabilize himself as the deck pitched forward. Beyond that, he did nothing as the Imperial fleet raced to plug the small hole in their lines. Outside, the light show raged on. Green and red lasers streaked across the vacuum of space, with flashes of orange and white highlighting their impacts. Minutes seemed to stretch into eternity as the battle raged on. In the force Vader felt lives wink out in twos, threes, and more as Alliance ships were ripped to pieces by the Imperial force. Fortunately for Vader, in the end it wasn't enough.

"Admiral, I'm picking up several hyperdrive signatures from within the rebel fleet," called one of the crewmen from somewhere off to the right.

Admiral Piett's eyes widened as the full gravity of his situation set in. They weren't breaking for a hyperspace lane. The Admiral slammed his hand down on the activation switch for the Imperial command channel.

"Executor to all ships: Concentrate fire on the lead warships," Piett barked.

Under his helmet, Darth Vader arched an eyebrow. The rebel move was unexpected. The goal had been to guide them toward an old smuggler's route about fifteen degrees down from their current position. However, instead the fleet was making a blind jump. The servos in the Sith's hands whined in protest as his hand balled up into tighter and tighter fists. He forced himself to take a calming breath as the rebel ships vanished from the system.

As the ship's turbolasers fell silent, Admiral Piett's boots, again, echoed off the metal walls as he made his way to Vader. However, unlike before, Vader could hear the hesitation in his steps.

"The fleet escaped my Lord. The fleet is regrouping, and fighters are assessing the damage, now," he reported.

The crispness of his declaration was undercut by the slow nature of delivery. Silence hung as Vader just stood there. The loud hiss-puff of his suit was the only noise heard. Admiral Piett shifted uncomfortably as his superior's black eyes cut into him.

"Alert all commands and launch probes along their last known trajectory. I want that fleet found," Darth Vader bellowed before shifting his attention, "Go dark and take the fleet to the staging area. The time has come."

"Yes, my Lord," the Admiral croaked as a nervous lump formed in his throat.

Piett paled as Vader stopped at the blast doors.

"For your sake, there can be no more mistakes," he declared.

As the doors opened and shut behind Vader, Piett was left with the man's words hanging in the air. He noted, with a frown, that the words spoken did not carry the threatening tone common with the man. Instead it appeared as though Darth Vader was making a simple observation. Of course, that observation was to be expected when forming up to commit high treason.

(Home One: Somewhere in hyperspace)

Admiral Akbar's worry continued to rise as he entered the white-walled conference room. In their haste to jump out of the system, no one had had a chance to re-check the ships coordinates. The computer had generated them, and the navigator had input them without second thought. Now he had was wishing they had. Panic was no excuse for poor discipline. The admiral was pulled from his thoughts as the door hissed open.

In walked two women. The first was Mon Mothma. She was a tall, human woman with white clothes and a permanently grave face- frozen in position by the horrors she had witnessed in her life. To her left was Princess Leia, with her brown hair done up in a tight braid that ran down across her right shoulder. In her eyes Admiral Akbar saw nothing but fire. While she had also experienced immense loss, she had not yet grown old enough to be broken by the weight of the galaxy.

A series of wordless nods were traded as the two women found their seats at the table.

"What happened?" Princess Leia immediately asked.

"The attack was a trap and we walked right into it," Admiral Akbar declared, "Given the response time of the fleet, and the appearance of Vader's flagship, it is only logical to assume that the whole thing was set up from the start."

"Which means we were given bad information," Leia reasoned.

"No. We were not. An Alliance operative just reported in. He found the Imperial officer that had leaked the information. The man had been shot twice and buried in a shallow grave," Mothma corrected, "There were clear signs of extended interrogation.'

"Imperial Intelligence got to him," Akbar noted.

"It appears so," Mon Mothma answered solemnly, "There's nothing we can do about it now, and there's nothing else he could have given up. The question is, what do we do now."

"There's not much we can do. The Imperial fleet destroyed most of our smaller ships. Here's the final list-" Akbar gave Leia a data pad containing the lost ships and their class "-As you can see, all of our hammerheads; five corvettes; and two cruisers are gone."

"Two cruisers! That only leaves the Home One plus whatever we can scrape up from the other cells," Leia exclaimed.

"Yes. Our striking capabilities have been severely damaged. Right now, our only offensive arm is the surviving X-Wing and Y-Wing squadrons. With the Ghost out on mission, the Millennium Falcon is our only multipurpose assault craft," Admiral Akbar confirmed.

Across the room, Leia couldn't help but smirk at the Admiral's technical description of the Falcon. In her opinion it was a higher praise than the ship deserved but fitting none-the-less.

"However, there is a more immediate problem," Akbar picked up as he produced a holomap of the galaxy, "In our haste to escape the system, we made a blind jump. We are here-" he pointed to a spot in the outer rim "-Swipe right on the data pad and you'll see our projected breakout point."

Leia's eyes widened as she took in what she was reading.

"That's... That's not even the same galaxy," she stammered as she passed the pad.

"You are correct. Unfortunately, a manual override would scatter the fleet across the flight path. An error margin of one second could scatter the fleet across twelve different systems. Not to mention there is a risk of doing further damage to the ships and their exact breakout locations would be nearly unpredictable," the admiral continued.

"In other words, we have no choice but to follow this path to its conclusion," summarized a much calmer Mon Mothma.

"Precisely."

"Four weeks is the projected flight time?" Mothma verified.

"Yes."

"I see. If there is nothing else, I'll brief the council. This will delay things greatly, but it will give us time to regroup," she concluded.

"Of course. You'll find all of the relevant information on that data pad," Akbar agreed.

(Unknown Regions: Twelve hours later)

the structure was quiet and unassuming from the ground level. A small durasteel door was carved into a cliff side half buried in moss. However, like Vader, Commander Appo knew better. Years in the military had taught him than no race simply put a door halfway up a mountain without due cause. Given that Vader had ordered the entire fleet into radio silence twelve hours ago, arrived here six hours ago, and was finally going forward; there had to be something big back here. From what little he caught from the crew, Vader had been scanning the area with every instrument in the fleet.

Next to Commander Appo was General Veers. Unlike his clone counterpart, Veers had a better idea of how paranoid Vader was being. During the daily inspections he conducted in the main hanger, Veers had watched heard seven probes launch and watched as five TIE escorted survey ships dove for the surface.

"With all due respect My Lord, what are you looking for?" General Veers asked impatiently.

Vader waved his hand. In response the door opened with a hiss.

"See for yourself, General," Vader answered as he made his way inside.

General Veers noted that Vader's voice seemed to echo through the space. Even in the pitch black, it was obvious that they were in a large room of some kind. Another wave of his hand activated rows of overhead lights. General Veers blinked away the spots in his eyes and gasped. Suddenly, Vader's paranoia made sense. They were standing on a narrow platform that ran the length of the wall. Spaced at regular intervals were control panels with black screens. The room was bigger than he ever imagined. He guessed it to be at least four hundred meters square with a ceiling of twenty meters and a large hanger door immediately to the right.

"There are two levels, each with its own door," Vader explained as he activated a nearby control panel.

"Where did this all come from," Appo gasped.

"That matters little. Small arms and ordnance are crated up and prepped for transport. Cargo and transport droids are stored along the back wall... The second panel down will activate them," the Sith continued, "I want the contents of both rooms loaded in five hours. Coordinate with the Admiral and use whatever resources are required."

With that, Vader spun around and marched out. In the compound, the two senior officers were left with nothing but their own gaping expressions and a room full of weapons. After a couple seconds of stunned silence, General Veers found his words.

"Commander, tell me what we're looking at," Veers croaked.

"Certainly," Commander Appo began as he marched over to a nearby control panel, "The black ones in front are Commando droids. They were the closest thing to a Special Operations division the CIS had. It looks like this system has the exact specs. So, I'll keep it to highlights. The ones next to them are B2 battle droids. They are the heavy version of the tan ones behind them. There was a grenade launcher variant, but most operated a wrist-mounted twin blaster. The B1's were the backbone of the CIS and operated a standard blaster rifle. They also operated most of the non-automated weapons such as the STAPs in back and the AAT Tanks in front of them. Next to them are the Drodeka's, aka 'Destroyer Droids'-"

"I'm familiar with them," General Veers answered sourly, "The Alliance has made use of them in past."

"I see..."

The next half-hour was spent with Commander Appo listing off the various units displayed below with their in-war use. As he spoke, General Veers's mind twisted itself in knots. He couldn't possibly comprehend how Darth Vader had managed to come up with this force. Veers knew of the Emperors complacency when it came to his apprentice, but this was far past complacency. In his book, the fact that Vader could shore up this kind of resource spoke of criminal neglect and an unfit ruler.

Soon Appo turned to the inventory list on the screen closest to him and continued to solidify Veers's opinion. The next hanger over contained the Republic equivalent of this room. There were AT-TEs, AT-RTs, seven heavy cannons, recon equipment, communications gear, Gunships, tank lifters, and all manner of cases containing everything from medical supplies to blaster packs and rockets.

"By the Force, this is insane," he muttered.

(Earth: UNSC Headquarters)

Admiral Hood was an old tired man. Thirty years of war had nearly worn him into an early grave. Long frown lines, and tired eyes made this fact clear. However, that age did come with its reward. He knew when shit was being fed to him- especially when it came from ONI. Today, it was the fact that he could tell that caused him to arch an eyebrow as he listened to the ONI director, Admiral Osman. Given the size and scope of her proposal, this was either fueled by a personal grudge or ulterior motive, neither of which she was telling him about.

"So, let me get his straight. We've destroyed six Halo rings and haven't been able to find the seventh. For years the entire fleet has been turning this end of the galaxy inside out. The most advanced ships that UNSC and Swords of Sanghelios own have been sweeping the entirety of known space for six years. Nothing. Now, you're presenting me with a heavily blacked-out report that claims to have found the ring... deep in the next galaxy over, no-less." Hood summarized before adding bluntly, "What you are proposing Admiral is, in my opinion, the worst thing that you could recommend or propose."

Osman choked on her brandy, shocked beyond belief that Fleet Admiral Hood would disagree with her well thought out plan. Even if she didn't give him all of the details, there should've been enough in the report for him to sign off.

After she got herself under control, she looked at her superior incredulously.

"Why is my plan the worst thing that I could propose?" Osman asked seriously.

Her frustration came through quite clearly- too clearly for the Fleet Admiral.

"Watch your tone Admiral." Hood barked, stressing her rank when he said it "I may be old, but I know when I'm being told something that is utter shit that belongs in a Brutes' strategic meeting. I also know what you tried to do with Doctor Halsey. So you are walking a thin line with me."

To say that Osman was angry that Hood insulted her plan would be an understatement. Her face glowed red. However, it mattered little. She could be as livid as she wanted, but she couldn't do anything about it without Section 0. Making a move on Admiral Hood would require them to stay silent. Given the debt they owed the man, there was no way that was ever going to happen. Right now, that wasn't her main concern. It was the name, Admiral Hood had tossed in.

"How did you-" Osman started.

"Don't play dumb Director." Hood snapped. "You ordered Lasky, a man who answers directly to me, to carry out the assassination. Did you really think that he would quietly go along without checking if it was cleared with me and the rest of HIGHCOM? Either you are a fool for thinking so or it didn't cross your mind. This proposal is just another thing that I can tack onto your long list of screw ups. One more mistake out of you and you will find yourself in front of HIGHCOM for treason. Understood Director?"

Osman had paled gradually during Hood's statement by the end, she was sheet white and shaking slightly.

"Yes Fleet Admiral." Osman replied shakily.

"Good. Let's move on," Admiral Hood finished.

Admiral Osman nodded in agreement.

"So your proposal says that we're going to just waltz into this galaxy, destroy the ring and come back like nothing ever happened?" Admiral Hood picked up.

"That's a... a simple way to put it, but yes," she hesitantly agreed.

The Admiral nodded. It was simple nod with disbelief written all over it.

"So, what's ONI get out of this?" he asked.

The question was simple, and the accusation was clear.

Admiral Osman's face was sheet white, "I don't-"

"Come now. ONI doesn't replace a door hinge without thinking of how it might further it's agenda and they sure as hell don't send the bulk of our firepower, along with the bulk of the Arbiter's firepower, to the next galaxy over without a long-term plan." Admiral Hood explained as if he were talking to a child, "What are you not telling me?"

The director considered the question as she threw back the rest of her drink. As it hit her system, the color returned to her face.

"I think the war made you paranoid." she retorted with a humorless chuckle.

"No, it made me a cynic. ONI's actions postwar made me paranoid." Hood started with a suspicious edge, "You asked why this idea is bad, and the answer is simple. We would be committing too many ships for what has largely become a routine operation. Until I get an answer as to why you want that many ships committed, my answer won't change."

"I see. Well, the briefing has everything you need to know for now. I'll explain all the details after I get them together. The president will be contacting you regarding this tomorrow as well sir. In the meantime, what can I do to strengthen the line that I'm on with you?" the director asked crisply.

"One, don't go over my head again. Two, clean up your own mess. Bring ONI, all of it, under the UNSC's jurisdiction again. I'm not going to have a repeat of the four years after the war." Hood ordered her, "I know of your activities with Kilo-5 when you were a captain Director, and I'm not at all pleased that you started a war that we ended up being a part of-" the admiral pointed an accusatory finger at her "-You have a lot to improve on before your status with me changes… Dismissed."

Osman got up, straightened her uniform, and walked out of Admiral Hood's office. Hood sighed as soon as the door closed. He activated his datapad and contacted the head of Section 0.

"Yes Lord Hood?" the Colonel answered.

"Keep an eye on Osman and get me the full details of her plan for Andromeda. She's hiding something and I don't want it coming back to bite us in the ass." Hood ordered.

"Sir you do realize that the orders will be coming in from the president tomorrow, correct?" the man clarified.

"I'm aware, Colonel." Hood said calmly.

The man nodded, "Of course. I'll get them to you ASAP sir… hopefully before your call with the President."

"Until then Colonel. Hood out."

The man saluted Hood, who returned it and ended the connection.

This will be an interesting couple of days, Hood thought.