The Battle of Ord Farlenx

MOVE ON NOW TO PART IV

This is interesting, thought Admiral Kanaris as he examined the decrypted information from the data cores borrowed from Ord Farlenx. He keyed the intercom.  "Tessana," he called.

~Yes, sir,~ she answered from her work station outside his office at the new Adjustments secret headquarters.

"I want you to send a copy of this data dump to the Undertaker ASAP, care of whatever ship he mentioned in his last impertinent message. I really think he needs to see this sooner rather than in a month or so when the Ubiqtorate might otherwise send it to him. Oh, and give him a copy of the sensor data from the freighter and the shuttle that carried Smith and Jones in and out of Ord Farlenx. You know, part of the package we sent the Sith Lord," finished the Admiral.

~Yes, sir. It will go out by holonet.... now,~ she responded, having keyed the required encryption, routing and high priority commands into their system.

"Remain in her company then, if she finds your presence necessary," Domino replied to Ibran.  Then he glanced at Alia who stared at the table in front of her, saying nothing. "As a matter of fact, perhaps you could both benefit from what I have to offer."

Just then a lieutenant entered the room. "My Lord," he said, bowing deeply to Domino, "We have received a transmission from a Sector Plexus data droid sent to us by a cruiser identifying itself as Adjutant."

Domino nodded, "We will analyze the data sent by this droid and make final preparations for the attack. With this information we will have no need to wait for the final probe droid reports."
The Dark Lord sat in his chair and held his goblet up to be filled by a servant as he looked across the table to his cousin. "Darin, considering this information has probably also been passed along to Ubiqtorate and the Emperor himself, shall we wait for word from them before mounting our assault on Ord Farlenx?"

Ibran looked at Alia who shook her head and gave him a look that told him she'd explain things later if she had a chance. "Certainly not," Darin replied. "We must strike as soon as possible, leaving within the hour if we can."

"That's it then," he declared, draining his cup in one mighty gulp. "Let's hope those intelligence agents have finished their task. I'm sure it was awfully important."

Ibran shuddered involuntarily as Domino dismissed him with a casual remark. Alia stepped up beside him, taking his hand.  ~How do you manage to get yourself into these situations?~

~Probably the same way you managed to be here.  Want to explain that one to me?~

Alia felt blood rushing to her face, but she thought she managed to hide her embarrassment.  ~It's a long story that I'd rather not get into right here.~  She glanced over at Marquis and noticed a slight look of amazement.  'She's probably wondering what Domino was thinking. I'm doing the same thing. Palpatine's Sith Lords seem to be so much alike in other respects, I'm scared to think what's turning the wheels in his mind.'

"Here we are, Ord Farlenx!"

Evan sighed. Being cooped up in the Starskrit with Tyne for this long, was not a fate he would wish on anyone, much less himself. 'Thank you! If I had to listen to one more account of his life, putting a vibroblade through my own skull would be the best option.' "Can we land? Soon?"

Tyne nodded. "Very soon, nobody ever goes to Ord Farlenx, so the traffic controllers seem almost excited that a ship actually wants to land."

Evan nodded and closed his eyes.  'As harsh as he's been, being at peace with everything has been such a welcome change. I'm going to hate going back to reality.'

Ibran would have laughed if he'd still been playing his little charade. As it was, he didn't think the Sith Lord in front of him would appreciate it. Still, it was unnerving to watch this being of eager power go from angry to placid in a heartbeat.  'Blech,' he thought to himself, shivering. 'All this Dark Side power around makes it feel like I'm walking through mud. I'm surprised the Force is with me at all.'
He felt someone take his hand and he glanced over his shoulder quickly. Seeing it was Alia, he relaxed. It was a lot more comforting when she was near, he noticed.
~How do you get yourself into these situations?~
The familiar tone of voice could make Alia the only person speaking to him. Plus, given their proximity, the only likely candidate he could reach given the fog of the Dark Side that permeated this place.  ~Probably the same way you managed to be here. Want to explain that one to me?~ he replied dryly.

~It's a long story that I'd rather not get into right here.~ She was embarrassed slightly, Ibran realized. And afraid. But who wouldn't be, given the people in the room?  Ibran wouldn't.  Life hadn't mattered to him a whole lot since he'd lost his arm.  It mattered more now than it used to, but the mindset he'd had since then allowed him to take rather foolish risks like the ones he'd taken on Fury.  Like the one he'd taken here.
But he'd always trusted the Force to get him out safely, and it always had.  Blind faith justified gave him a little more reason to live. So did Alia.

Alia's hand felt warm and small in his own. He noticed it was trembling slightly and he squeezed it, trying to allow some warmth and reassurance to flow to her.  ~It'll be okay. If anything happens, they'll have to go through me to get to you.~

~Be careful. I worry.~

~I don't, and that's why I'm the Jedi.~ he grinned.  ~Now, how about a little mental introduction to our Dark Side hosts?~

~What if Dom- Lord de Devastator catches us?~

~Given the strength of his powers, he probably already knows. Even so, what does it matter? It's not as if we're plotting to overthrow him in secret. We're just... getting reacquainted. Besides, if he gives us the 'Come serve me' speech and I decline, I'll know who it is who suddenly wants my head.~

A movement in his hand told him Alia was looking around the room. Probably trying to see if anyone was observing them. ~Okay,~ she began. ~The lady who looks like Benoah? That's someone called Marquis...~

Profile Subject: Gregor Jarkov

Physical Description: Subject stands ------------------ weighs ----------- Age-----

History: Owner of Jarkov Biologic----- Gregor-Jarkov------------------. Jarkov Biologics is a genetic engineering corporation specializing in manipulation of insectile genotypes. Known to produce the creatures termed "Gray Death", seen on Un'yawa and Fury. The comp------------------------------------ and has a possible headquarters in the ------ System at parsec 522-876-44-5 in the ------- Sector.

Psychological Evaluation: Recent actions suggest that Jarkov----------------------------------------------------------------

Outstanding Warrants for Arrest: -------------------------------

######

"Well, well, well. It seems, Mr. Jarkov, that I have finally acquired a clue as to your location. I shall have to pay you a visit." Bismarck mused over the coordinates in the half-existing profile. "522-876-44 blank 5. Fortunately, there aren't that many places it could be."
Bismarck stood up and walked over to Regius, who was talking with another man. "What do you make of this, Regius? You, too, Major Vargas." Bismarck handed the datapad to his subordinate, who then proceeded to take a look.

"It's... interesting, sir. Don't we have some data on Gregor Jarkov?" Regius asked.

"Yes, we do," put in Vargas. "Data on the man himself, his company, his creatures... all compiled under your orders, Admiral."

Bismarck gave Vargas an appraising look. He knew the Major wasn't slow, but he hadn't suspected that Vargas was actually keeping tabs on what was going on. "Yes, indeed, Major. I have been studying Gregor Jarkov for a bit. And this profile contains the one thing that I've lacked."

Regius was surprised. "What's that, Admiral?"

Vargas chuckled. "His location, sir. We know some of the outlets Jarkov has been using to sell his various creations, but we never knew where he was personally. Do you intend to move against him, Admiral?"

Bismarck smiled, tapping his foot thoughtfully. "I plan to pay him a visit. We'll see how things go from there. What's our current assignment, Regius?"

The officer produced a list, which Bismarck took. "Escort captured cruisers to Gall in the Zhar system. Very well. How long until the cruisers are ready to depart?"

"Estimated departure time is two hours, sir," Vargas replied. "The techs have been having a few problems repairing the Rebel technology."

Bismarck smiled. "Inform me when we're ready to go." He turned and left the bridge to go back to his meditation chamber.
When he got there, he began thinking. He chuckled to himself at this realization. He was always thinking these days. Something had been bothering him, though.
It was fighting the Rebellion. Not exactly the grandest project there was. And while he was doing well, he wished he could be a part of something a bit nobler. Something worthwhile and larger than himself.
But one did not always get what one wanted. Rigel sighed and came back to the present. There were many things that he had started a while ago that needed checking up on. He couldn't move on with his plans without them. He began writing up a list of the things he'd have to do.

#####

Uniani Havoch frowned. He'd heard of the possibility that there might be a skirmish in the Farlenx Sector, and he wanted to be there.
So did the rest of Blackhawk. They'd been getting a little edgy lately. Partly because they'd been sitting around so much. Life, Uniani knew, was boring when you sat and waited for things to happen.
Which was why he was heading to Admiral Bismarck's meditation chamber to see if he could get a little leave of absence for Blackhawk.
"Captain Uniani Havoch, Blackhawk Squadron, here to see Admiral Bismarck," he said, stopping in front of the room Rigel frequently occupied.

One of the stormtroopers at the door paused as he spoke into an intercom, then motioned to Uniani with his blaster rifle. "You can go in."

Uniani slipped through the double doors. The first thing he saw was Admiral Bismarck, sitting in his command chair facing the door. He also saw a datapad on a small stand next to the chair.
"We want to fight, sir." Uniani said.  It was an unspoken concession in their professional relationship that Uniani was allowed to begin their conversations.  His first words in a conversation tended to be his last.

"You want to be at the Farlenx battle, is that it?" Bismarck asked. Uniani nodded. "Then I hereby grant Blackhawk leave to do so. See if you can't get those TIE Enforcer prototypes from Domino before you go into battle. It'd be nice to finally get them."

Uniani nodded again then saluted before turning then left.

"Well, it was nice of Tess to slip some of my favorite Fizzyglug in with the new supplies," said Smith, hunched over a terminal in the Strike cruiser. He eyed the interlaced moving lines on the screen, which portrayed various stock index, currency and futures contracts and esoteric but fluctuating relationships among them. Their new orders specified that, pending arrival of their somewhat more fitting transportation at the next port of call, Smith and Jones were to cause certain rearrangements in the economies of the Kujii System and four other systems that had, with a little help from Adjustments been "won" by the Rebel Alliance and dropped their prior neutral status.

Jones was in a similar multi-screen trading turret, running in coordinated tandem the same economic warfare program that Smith had developed for the section and their personal edification and enrichment. It monopolized 98% of the capacity of the massively parallel super-computer on board the cruiser that was normally employed in decryption. Trading directives were sent out via Imperial Holonet, instantaneously laundered through blind drops, dummy accounts and repeaters, and freed upon the universe.
Normally, Smith would have insisted upon access to D-1, the truly awesome robotic brain that helped the relatively small Adjustments section of Imperial Intelligence accomplish its ultra-difficult missions, but in this case the planetary economies were each disasters just awaiting a little nudge.  'A little bit of this, a tweak there, and...'  Alerts flashed across the bottom of each and every screen as the central bank in the Kujii system slipped into insolvency.  Moments later, the local currency and financial exchanges collapsed. "Three to go, and two in the pocket," mumbled Jones.

"You know," said Smith leaning back in the pivot chair, hoisting a Fizzyglug, "this is a truly enjoyable temporary respite from an otherwise tedious job."  'I particularly like the fact that we are cleaning up on our short positions. So far, the profits earned using our official funds would buy two ISD's, a nice chunk of change for the Admiral's budget, and I've invested our own capital right alongside, with official permission!!!' he thought.

"You are absolutely right," responded Jones as he ordered a correspondent bank to foreclose the mortgage on the Jukero VI capital building. In the lower right corner, he could see the rising total of one of their hidden private accounts.

Of course, it was seldom this easy. And why was this time different? Because everything had been planned in advance for years. Each of the planetary systems had been made to appear attractive to the Rebels so that they would strive to acquire them. And the criteria for selection was simple.  Each was an economic disaster waiting to happen, an endless money hole with the virtue - as far as Imperial minds were concerneed - that these financial death-traps were not obvious upfront.  And too much would have been expended trying to restore a semblance of order before the original error became clear. Further, the Rebel Alliance had from a political standpoint gone well past the point of no return. They coulnd't simply abandon claim to these systems or forgo necessary aid; to attempt to stop the economic hemorrhaging would guarantee that no other system would ever again voluntarily join the Alliance.
Thus, the Rebels would be spending extravagant sums of credits just to keep a large mass of each civilian population from starvation and violent death in civil disturbances.  The final result would be the bloodletting of vital Alliance funds needed for military operations.

"It's tough being a gracious loser when you work for the Empire," mused Smith. 

"The loss of Ord Farlenx wouldn't cover the ante on this sabacc hand," replied Jones.

Laying unconscious in a detention cell when the bomb exploded at the door to the security section of the Alliance Headquarters at Ord Farlenx saved his life, at least temporarily. The blast pulverized General Sahnus and his aide, who had opened the door to investigate, and obliterated 80% of the office and corresponding sections of the underground complex five floors up and four floors down. However, the detention cells had their own shielding (to keep prisoners in) and the limp nature of his stunned body permitted it to go with the flow of the shockwave. But enough of Major Inspa, who in any event was not the only person in need of one of the medivac teams called to the headquarters by numerous false alarms infused into the systems.
The focus for the moment was on the combat center, where in-system traffic, defensive systems and threats were monitored. And, in the event of a realized threat, countermeasures were devised and directed. Vice Admiral Bore Pree, from Chandrila, the homeworld of Mon Mothma, was still on deck, his watch having started just about the time Smith and Jones landed at the spaceport. A short while before, the traffic monitor had given a normal picture of the system, including the nearly complete orbital shipyard and the two Golan II defense platforms in geo-synchronous orbit protecting the shipyard and the ground-based command center from potential orbital bombardment. Now, however, the lights had dimmed.  Emergency lighting from separate power cells began to kick in, and the holo-table projected a meaningless rain of colors and incomprehensible drivel. Incidentally, that table was the primary means of permitting command level officers to track the system and ships during combat. The staff had brought this difficulty to the Vice Admiral's attention, and he was confused and concerned.  The stench of scorched electrical insulation was wafting through the room from the ventilators - not a good sign.

"Sergeant, what is the status of this facility?" the Vice Admiral asked.

"The central computer is... Central is down.  Internal security appears to have suffered a bomb blast. We are receiving reports from checkpoints that cleared individuals were being rejected by the system, but now that the central computer is down that won't make much difference. We have no further data on the reported reactor leak," answered the sergeant.

"Divert all primary systems for this combat center from the central computer to peripheral systems. Run a com check to the Golans and the ion cannon battery," the Vice Admiral ordered as he stared at the holo-table and steepled his fingers. Sweat dripped into his eyes, which were irritated by the smoke.

"Sir, we are already on backup systems. They're not functioning properly, either.  We do have communications. Everything is normal at the Golans; they report the departure of a shuttle from system and no inbound threats. The ion cannon battery reports no problems, but inquires as to whether the explosion they just heard was related to our reactor leak," responded the sergeant.

"Tell them no, and ....." answered the Vice Admiral as a second explosion occurred. This particular blast destroyed the reactor coolant and a nice chunk of the reactor controls. "....Query whether the team originally dispatched to check the reactor leak was in the reactor control center at the time of this latest blast."

In his meditation chamber, Bismarck sat re-reading his finished list.

Bismarck put a check next to the first item. He smiled and looked at his chronometer, noting that it was 19:07.
He cocked his head. 19:07.
This would put him two hours from Gall at maximum. It also meant he was in the perfect position for an ambush. Bismarck had determined the fastest route earlier, also determining possible points of surprise attacks at the same time.

He began counting to himself. 19:07:30. 19:07:40. 19:07:50. 19:08:00.

The Scythe did not pull out of hyperspace.

He nodded to himself, then went back to his list.

#####

The remote Imperial outpost of Gall had little to attract interest. Its' only spaceport was heavily monitored by the garrison defense, and so Rebel forces would have more trouble than usual sneaking in. It had a fairly tight control on the local population, and the likelihood of secret agents penetrating or wanting to penetrate security was small. Since its arrival was expected and unimportant, the Scythe appeared over Gall with little ceremony.

They also appeared alone.

"Where are the Cruisers we were escorting?" Bismarck said concernedly.

"It's possible they're slightly behind us. With our new .9 hyperdrive, we can outdistance most ships," Regius suggested.

"I don't believe that for a second," Bismarck replied. "We were supposed to be rearguard for them, Regius. I want a full sensor sweep. They can't be cloaked, but it's possible they've been and gone. Possible, but doubtful."

Regius strode all over the bridge, desperately trying to determine where the error lay. After a brief trip about the bridge, he returned. "I'm sorry, sir," he said. "There's absolutely no trace of Star Cruiser hyperdrive wash or power output. Gall spaceport logs have no record of the Cruisers arriving."

Bismarck blinked in surprise, then his gaze swept about the bridge while he considered what might have happened. "What do you think, Regius?" he asked.

Regius frowned in puzzlement, then lowered his gaze to the deck plating of the bridge. "I- I'm not sure, sir. Ambush, perhaps?"

Bismarck made a noise in the back of his throat. "At first glance, it seems unlikely, doesn't it?" he said. "Our destination was known only to the Gall and Seleneron III spaceports, both Imperial military installations. Our course was on as straight a line as we could manage, and we were behind those ships the entire way. However, those Cruisers didn't just disappear, and destruction of four separate ships by gravity shadows is unlikely."

"So they must've been stolen," Regius said, examining the empty Gall airspace on the main viewport.

"Eliminate the possible, and whatever's left, however improbable, must be the answer," Bismarck quoted the old maxim. "The only logical explanation is that they were stolen. To be stolen, the thieves would have to have our hyperspace vector, our departure and arrival times, and a Jedi," Bismarck added this last with disgust.

"A Jedi? But-" Regius broke off, confused.

"How do I know?" Bismarck asked, a touch of bitterness seeping into his voice. "Simple. Lord Grissk would have sensed the danger to the ships had they been stolen by normal means. Since he didn't come to me with a premonition, it means he didn't get one. His abilities were being deflected, and that means Jedi involvement."

"How can you put so much faith in this mysterious wizardry of his?" Regius asked, nervously looking over his shoulder as if spooked.

"I've witnessed the Emperor's machinations many a time," Bismarck said. "And once we do what's next, I'll tell you how I came to put faith in the unseen 'Force' of his."

"And what is next, Admiral?" Regius asked curiously.

His eyes narrowed. "Simple," he said, his voice becoming dangerously malevolent. "We use Lord Grissk to find the spy in my task force, pick his brain clean, and jettison him into space with the garbage."

Jones read the Scandoc out loud to Smith.  "It would be extremely helpful if you could retrieve the other half of the computer cores. The Strike class cruiser you are in is the closest Imperial Intelligence ship to Ord Farlenx. There is an ultra-fast, stealthy Intelligence Shuttle now docked with it, complete with a top-notch squad of personnel from Enforcement. Smith -- bring the cores back and there will be a CASE of your favorite Fizzglug on EVERY mission forward," Jones finished.
"I don't believe it.  Lord de Devastator's attack force will be arriving at Ord Farlenx in six hours, at least if he is on the original schedule." said Jones.

"He is ahead of schedule.  I checked," answered Smith looking glum.
'I don't have any idea where the rest of those cores are,' they each thought as they stared at the Scandoc.

"I'll get the disguise kits, synth-flesh gloves and some fake idents," Jones said, already in motion.

"I'll make a quick pit stop at the armory, and arrange for a decent pickup," responded Smith heading in the other direction.  Meanwhile, the shuttle was powering up. The Scandoc, left on the counter, fizzled and disintegrated.

'Now I'll get another shot at that Wookiee!' thought Jones.

'I hope that Wookiee is in a different system by the time we get to the computer cores,' Smith wished fervently.

A very dark mood had come upon Admiral Bismarck since he'd been forced to report the loss of the cruisers to Gall military command. Regius could see that he was especially annoyed.  Despite the fact that Regius was a soldier, and a loyal one at that, he was also a man. He could see that the Admiral needed some sort of reassurance, and Regius wanted to provide that. One of the few things the Admiral had done that had truly altered the way he looked at things was to inspire him.  That was where the real difference between all of Emperor Palpatine's vaunted Sith Lords and certain military architects such as Grand Admiral Thrawn (and Admiral Bismarck, if Regius had his say) rested.  The Sith Lords could frighten troops into fighting and even control the way the battle went with their powers.  Men like Thrawn inspired those same troops into doing better than fighting, controlling the battle with their skill.
Regius was not a ship's counselor. He was, for all his noble sentiments, just a captain. But sometimes, there was need for a good captain.

"Sir?" Regius stood at attention behind Admiral Bismarck.

"Yes, Captain?" Bismarck had turned from the main viewport. "What is it?"

"I have a suggestion, sir, as to how you might find the spy in your crew."

Bismarck's eyebrows lifted.  "Oh, really? Please, share."

"Well, sir, I got to thinking about how a spy could be in your crew, sir, and I came to the conclusion that it couldn't be someone actually on the Scythe. We've been out of mainstream fighting for nearly ten years, and if they were on our ship all that time they'd have made a mistake that we'd have caught."

Although the Admiral's face remained neutral, his eyes seemed to perk up. "That's true, Captain. So you assume they must be on one of the other ships?"

"I assumed, sir," Regius smiled. There was a small game being played here, but Regius understood its necessity. "Until I started piecing things together. Even if they had been on one of the other ships, it would have done them no good in this case. Your task force has been scattered about accomplishing various tasks that only make sense if you know everything that's been going on. In short, they'd have to be on or near the Scythe for it all to fit together, and none of the other 'Graveyard' ships have been near the Scythe."

"And what, old boy, did you conclude?" Bismarck's tone was cautious, almost dangerous. Regius had indeed hit the nail on the head this time.

"Well, Admiral, I figured that there were a few things necessary to remove the ships. First, there'd have to be some way to learn the normal details necessary:  travel route, number of forces, departure times.  Second, there'd have to be a way to silence Lord Grissk's Force powers.  The first of these is standard practice.  Difficult, but standard." Regius stopped for a moment to glance around the bridge and make sure none of the lesser officers were near.  "But silencing Lord Grissk is a completely different matter," he went on. "It does take a Jedi, or several ysalamiri, to quiet Grissk's wizardry.  Since there can't be a spy on the Scythe, since Luke Skywalker is too busy with his would-be Jedi, and since Grissk hasn't been confined in the brig, there was only one conclusion I could draw."

Bismarck merely watched his second, various emotions almost struggling to show on his face. "And?" he prompted.

Regius stepped a little closer. "You stole them, didn't you?" he whispered, a touch of reverence coming into his voice.

Bismarck's face and body language gave away nothing. "Come with me, Captain," he said aloud. "I have something I need to show you in my meditation chamber."  Together, the two of them strode from the bridge.

#####

"Sit down, Captain," Admiral Bismarck motioned to the command chair in his meditation chamber.

The Admiral was the only person who'd ever sat in that chair. "But, sir-"

A mild smile appeared on Bismarck's face. "Don't make me turn that into an order, Captain."  Regius sat, running his hands briefly over the cold, metal arms of the command chair. "Now, Regius, you may ask whatever questions you want.  I will attempt to guide you, to show you the various subtleties of my reasoning."

"I understand, sir." There was a pause while Regius considered what he wanted to know. "I guess my first question is why you stole the ships."

"Don't guess, Captain," Bismarck admonished lightly. "A commanding officer never guesses. He does, or he does not. There is no guesswork involved."

"Why did you steal those ships, Admiral?"

Bismarck lifted his chin and tapped thoughtfully on it. "Rebel ships have massively different design types from Imperial ones. The MC-90 Star Cruiser is as different from the Imperial Star Destroyer as it is from the Endurance or Nebula-Class warships, both Rebel mainstays. I intended for the ships to become training grounds for certain members of my task force. After finding which of our capital ship pilots were adept with Rebel equipment, I had intended to acquire ships for them to use in cases where sneak attacks, infiltrations, or certain deceptions were necessary."

"Why?" Regius asked.

Bismarck smiled, somewhat bitterly. "A miscalculation. I sent a troop transport to Ord Pardron space a while back, assuming that the men aboard could pass for Rebel reinforcements. Although my plan was solid, it failed to take into account the possibility of deficiencies in my men. I learned later that they'd failed to alter their duty roster sufficiently. Ever so tiny a mistake, but ever so crucial to success. After that, I vowed I wouldn't let such men go to waste. They would be instructed first, so that they could proceed without error."

Regius thought for a while. "Here's another one, Admiral," he said.  "Why not just ask High Command for some?"

The bitter expression on Bismarck's face increased. "His Imperial Majesty has little love for me personally. I suspect that he feels I am too ambitious for his own good; that I cannot be trusted because I am only a half-human. If I were obsequious in front of his Majesty, perhaps he would like me more. But military operations tend to call for honor and courage, and not for fawning or insincere bootlicking." He smiled at Regius. "I believe I have taught you the importance of those values."

Regius nodded. "You have indeed," he admitted dryly. "Over, and over, and over again. I've got another question. What are you training them for?"

Bismarck turned away and his voice adopted a thoughtful tone. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I just know that somewhere out there is an event begging to be exploited. An event which will put an end to the Rebellion. I have plans that will take advantage of it, no matter what it is; plans that take into account a massive number of factors; of alien beings, political alignments, and technological advancements."
Bismarck turned back to his subordinate, his expression wry. "Have I properly satisfied your curiosity, Captain?"

Regius hastily got out of the chair. "Of course, Admiral. I hope you don't think I'll betray your secret to the crew."

Bismarck shook his head. "I trust you, Captain. Now more than ever. There were questions you didn't ask that I would have, but perhaps it is better that some information is saved until it becomes usable."

Regius nodded. "I hope one day I can develop the same kind of insight you have, Admiral."

Bismarck smiled. "I've been saying the same thing about Grand Admiral Thrawn for several years," he said. "It's flattering to hear someone speak the same way of me. Now, let's get back to the bridge."

Ibran sighed. Alia had not, to his knowledge, ever mentioned a Sith Lord to him, much less admitted to knowing them.  'What isn't she telling me? Or,' as Ibran viewed it, 'what doesn't she feel she can trust me with?'  Shaking his head, he cleared those thoughts out of the way, only to have new ones fill the void.  'An attack on Ord Farlenx.'  Ibran had never heard about Farlenx, much less known there was an Ord there.  Suddenly, he felt very weary.  He knew little enough of events, much less the reasons for them happening.
'Much less.'  Those words were beginning to annoy him.
Ibran haggardly reined in his thoughts. Alia would be waiting for a reply.  ~An attack on Ord Farlenx?~ he sighed mentally.  ~Well, depending on where we are at the time, there may or may not be something we can do. We'll just have to trust the Force that someone will be there who can take care of it. By the way... if we get a moment alone I want to talk with you.~

~About what?~

~About... things.~ He could feel Alia's slight hurt that she didn't know. That obviously wasn't very diplomatic. ~Argh! I'm sorry, it's just that I've got a lot on my mind.~

~So do I.~

No, no, no, NO. This wasn't right, it didn't fit, it wasn't what Ibran wanted to say to her.  But could he say what he wanted to?  If he didn't, he knew he'd curse himself later for the missed opportunity.  ~Alia.~

~Yes?~

This was it. He couldn't back down now. ~How do you feel about... nevermind.~
 'ARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!' Ibran decided firmly that he must be rather mad.

Fortunately, perhaps for Ibran or (both of them), Alia had a touch of stubborness in her... or perhaps persistence, or maybe curiosity. ~No... tell me. What?~
'Kethren always told me I was as stubborn as a rancor, I've never proven him wrong in that respect.'  She felt Ibran waver a little before he continued.

~I know this is a really bad time to ask this, but... how do you feel about me?~  The moment those thoughts were out of his head, Ibran knew he'd regret them.

Alia was caught completely off guard. She glanced back up at Marquis and Rayla, both still in deep conversation, obviously either purposefully or unintentionally ignoring her. 'Which is just fine either way.'  Well, the last person to ask her the same thing had been Vlin. Vlin was dead.  'Stop it! Just stop it right now!  Those were different circumstances, a different you... it's not the same thing!  If you go and say something stupid...'  Alia bit her lip.  ~Well, you're a great guy.~
'Good job, Alia. Keep going...'  ~I don't know anyone else who'd show up in the middle of Domino de Devastator's 'flying fortress' and act like an imbecile just to find me.~  
'Not quite as good, but better than it could have been.'
~I guess, I like you, as more than a friend.~
'Alright, that was something stupid.'

Evan clipped the proffered blaster onto his belt and nodded his thanks to Tyne. They had set down in the middle of the night cycle of Ord Farlenx and had planned to stay with the ship, but Tyne felt something building nearby.  Something sinister.  The men made their way down the side streets and alleys surrounding the docking pad until Tyne suddenly stopped. "This is it," he breathed, clutching his lightsaber. 

Evan pretended politely not to notice the way his fingers were shaking.  In the next alley, he could hear something moving, and breathing, talking very low.  'I really don't like this.'

Tyne pulled his cloak over his head and proceeded into the alley. As the smell hit Evan's face, so did the shock of what was happening. Several drunkards had found a small Sullustan and were giving the pitiful thing the thrashing of its life. A cloth had been stuffed in its mouth to muffle its high-pitched squeals.  "I think you'd all better stop," Tyne began loudly, catching the attention of the beaters.

"Wha' you talkin' 'bout? Wha' you gonna' do?" One of the largest ones stepped away from the group and made his staggering way toward Tyne and Evan.

The would-be Jedi took a deep breath and lit his saber. "I don't know, what are you going to force me to do?"

Ibran perked up a great deal. A great deal.  ~Do you know,~ he said, ~For a moment I felt like banging my head against a wall after I'd asked that question. Now, I'm glad I did.~

Alia was slightly relieved that he'd overlooked how dumb her last statement had sounded. ~Um... why?~

~Because you're special. To me. Like this bracelet, but a lot more so.~  He held up his right hand that was holding hers, revealing a small, wrought bracelet on his wrist for her to examine.  He lowered it after a moment, the bracelet dropping out of sight beneath his sleeve.  ~Do you know, for a while I kind of thought you didn't like me very much? I guess I thought you thought I was weird or something. I mean, most people with missing limbs aren't highly regarded...~  There was a touch of bitterness in the last thought, bitterness Alia picked up.

She shook her head.  ~Actually, I hadn't noticed much. I'm also a little used to prejudice like that. Don't ask.~

Ibran's thoughts smiled.  ~I won't.~

'Ye gods,' she thought, smiling a little, then throwing the expression away.  'What a place to be talking about this.'  A circumspect glance at Rayla revealed that the woman was glancing their way.  The dark haired woman who'd captured Ibran was also speaking to Rayla  ~Who's that?~ she asked.

Ibran's response held mixed emotions.  ~Her name's Kyra. She's in love with Lord de Devastator.  A noble person, but misguided. You should stay out of her way at all costs.~

~Why me?~

~Because I think she'd kill you in a heartbeat if she felt it could cause me to embrace the Dark Side.~  Alia shivered, eliciting more comforting emotions from Ibran.  ~Hey, no need to worry. There are ways to... shall we say... divert her attention.~

~I'm not totally helpless, you know.~

Ibran's thoughts smiled again.  ~Good. Because I'm thinking that when we get where we're going, things are going to be a little hectic around here. Too hectic for them to keep track of us.  And maybe, just maybe, it could be our way out.~

Alia and Ibran were so caught up in communicating with each other, they didn't sense his dreadful presence until he was standing mere feet from them. "Your way out?" Domino inquired. "Why would you be looking for a way out? There is no place in the entire universe that could conceivably be safer for Alia than near me."
The Dark Lord placed his right arm around Ibran's left shoulder, and Alia noticed that the circle of assassins - Rayla, Marquis, and Kyra - had stoppedd their conversation to pay attention to what was transpiring there. "Alia is here for one major purpose, and that is to train with me. If you wish to remain with her, I would prefer that you train as well so as not to serve as a detriment to her progress. Rayla?"

The speed with which Rayla was at Domino's side was somewhere in between the duration of an eyeblink and a heartbeat. "My Lord, whatever you bid me do, so shall it be done."

Domino noted Ibran's slight smirk at the display of formal speech. 'Keep smiling, my unwitting apprentice.'
"Rayla, I would have you and Lady Kyra take young Ibran here to my training room. There shall the three of you engage in casual combat to assess the Jedi's talents."

Kyra and Rayla stood side by side and executed stately Deominian bows befitting the situation. In unison they declared, "As you will it, Lord de Devastator, so mote it be."

As they led Ibran toward the turbolift, the Dark Lord called to him. "Jedi!"
Ibran turned. "This is your only warning. There will be no more discussion of escape."

Ibran studied the Sith Master's gaze and then heard a high-pitched shriek of fear and pain. He averted his eyes from Domino to see Alia cower on the floor as her skin began to blister and boil....
Then stood dumb-founded as the vision cleared from his mind. "An image of possible fates.  I trust I am understood?"

Thix sauntered along a rock path that led to a nigh-unused entrance to the Jedi compound.  It had been a while since he had been truly able to just look around his homeworld, and it really was beautiful, though simplistic. The tall grasses swayed with a gentle breeze, and few trees adorned the horizon, save where the occasional grove would clump together around a pond.  He was thousands of miles from his home, but Dantooine still seemed the same even this far away.
There were only three buildings between him and the Academy, now:  A garage, a small home, and a diner of sorts.  'A Corellian diner,' Thix noted as he read the sign.  He was passing the diner when a familiar face caught his attention.
"Wonder what he's doing here?" Thix pondered, walking to the entrance to the vendors and throwing open the door. "What's up, Alex?"

Thix caught Alex Cross by surprise. "Oh, um, just thought I'd get out for something to eat. You know, aversion to base food.  Plus, I haven't had Corellian cuisine in a while."

"Alright, I side with that." Thix sighed. "Now I'm going to sound like a bite in the butt, but, are you okay?"

Around a mouthful of greasy, but delicious food, Alex spoke. "Whaddya mean?"

"I was talking to Becky, and..."

"What did she tell you?" Alex interrupted, tone neutral, but obviously agitated.

"She didn't say anything, but she seemed concerned.  It's my, ah, job, to make sure my pilots are in good shape.  Are you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"Glad to hear it."

"What else did you talk about beside me?" Alex asked.

"Oh, nothing much, just ate and ran, you know." Thix said, truthfully.

"So, are you and her, um, well, you know...dating?"

Thix contemplated the statement. They'd been on dates, yes, but not regularly. Well, he supposed that called for an affirmative. "I guess you could you say that. Yeah, you could." He shrugged.

"She's a great girl."

'Tell me about it,' Thix thought. "Yeah, she is....."

"Ya' hear tha'? Lil' boy wi' a li-stick think he can push me 'round!  Ya' don' wanna' do that, boy."

Tyne held his saber down by his side as the much, much, larger man pressed his nose against Tyne's face. The Jedi stepped away and tried to affect the mind of the man.  This was a Jedi ability he had been trying hard to accomplish. "You will leave this individual alone."  Unfortunately, he hadn't mastered it yet.

"I will, huh?" One meaty hand swung around clumsily, narrowly missing Tyne's head. The Jedi ducked out of the way, aiming a low kick that connected solidly with the perpetrator's knee-cap. That was something he had mastered.

Already off-balance, the larger man screamed and fell hard on his side.  By that time, the others had left their sport and were drawing a motley assortment of blasters and vibroknives and one mighty big looking whip.  Tyne backed up again, beginning to panic.  'I guess Al was right,'  he thought dumbly, watching them close in on him.  'I guess I wasn't ready for real combat.'

Ibran nodded dumbly and disappeared with the assassins as Domino turned his attention to Alia.  "I had thought you would have known better."

Alia stared down at the deck. "It won't happen again, Lord."

"It won't happen again because you know what may occur if it does, am I correct in this assumption, Alia?"

"Yes, Lord de Devastator.  I know the consequences of my actions.  I beg your forgiveness, my lord." Inside, she was seething, and fighting against either giving up or giving in to the rage. 'I wish I could just give in...'

Alia remained standing nearby as Domino engaged in conversation with Darin de Devastator. "Dear Darin, I am overjoyed that you have been able to join in the attack on Ord Farlenx."

'When it comes to family members, he's almost as cuddly as an Ewok,' Alia thought. 'But even the appearance of misdeed and he treats you like the lowest of life forms.'

Darin smiled at Domino. "Even if it were not my pleasure, it is certainly my duty, both to the Empire and to Deominia. But do not give that another thought, dear cousin. Truly my pleasure is being served rather heartily by the notion of crushing a rebel installation."

Domino clasped Darin around the shoulders in a manner unsuitable for Imperial Grand Admirals and Dark Lords of the Sith as Alia stood by wondering at the entire exchange. "I'm sure you remember Admiral Bismarck."

"Yes, of course." Darin replied. "News of his operations are quite sparse, by his own design I'm afraid, but my work in Ubiq..." she glanced toward the wide-eyed Alia, "....with Imperial Intelligence brings me into contact with his scandocs. He and I even served under Grand Admiral Thrawn once upon a time."

Domino nodded. "You may even know the Admiral better than me then, since I only recently made his acquaintance. A fine military mind, indeed. He contacted me after I asked if he would be able to join in the Farlenx attack. Unable to attend us in the matter, he informed me that he was certain his elite Blackhawk TIE squadron would volunteer to participate. In response to this, I have sent for fifteen of the new TIE Enforcer starfighters to be based on your ship."

Darin looked out the viewport at Pride de Devastator, noticing the cargo transport that was approaching the main hangar bay. "Then that would be the container vessel delivering the new fighters?"

Domino smiled. "Indeed. Blackhawk will be arriving soon. Within an hour of their arrival this fleet will depart. Captain Lanox and his fleet will attend to his objective, which will mark the beginning of the operation in earnest."  The Dark Lord turned to Darin and pulled her into his arms. "A blow like this to the Rebel Alliance will do much to bring an end to this war."

Alia pressed a hand against her forehead.  'Oh, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?'

Tashannoc had finished his meetings with his 'business associates,' and now sat in the cockpit of the Rolling Thunder, which was parked in a meadow near a small lake. He watched as someone pushed his boat away from the dock, and rowed out to the middle of the lake to do some fishing. Meanwhile he listened to General Bel Iblis on the other line. When he had finished, Tashannoc replied.  "I'm not sure what to think, Garm. I talked to Cracken and Ackbar, and they think it was a simple information raid, nothing more. We've stepped up security for all ships going into or out of Ord Farlenx, as well as security on the base, but they aren't sending any more ships. It makes sense, I suppose, but I have this funny feeling in my gut, like something else is taking place. I've tried using the Force, but I wasn't able to see anything in the future. It's just dark.
"Anyway, the planetary defenses are all functioning properly. There was a lot of damage done to the base, but there wasn't anything that couldn't be repaired or wasn't backed up. We don't know exactly what the Imps got, but we do know that they didn't get anything that even suggests the continued existence of Mon Calamari."

~There shouldn't even BE anything that suggests that!~ Bel Iblis's voice growled over the com.

"I know, Garm. It's been taken care of. Someone was a little sloppy, and they've been reprimanded. All other files elsewhere are being scrubbed as well." Tasha paused for a moment.

~What is it, Tasha?~

"Nothing.  I just thought for a moment that I felt a glimse of a Jedi in trouble.  If it was, it's too far away for me to get a bead on it."

~Okay. Look, I'm still pretty flexible in my orders. I could do a few maneuvers in the system-~

"No, Garm. I think it would be best if you didn't. I wouldn't want Ackbar to think I'd worked behind his back."

~You're probably right,~ Bel Iblis replied.  ~We'll, I hope you have a quiet time getting things back in order there.~

"Thanks. I'll try to get to Kashyyyk as soon as I can. I need to catch up with Neb anyway. Tashannoc out."

#####

In his quarters in the Peregrine, General Garm Bel Iblis sat back and reflected for a moment. No, he couldn't move the Battle Group into the Farlenx system. Tashannoc was right about that. But he could set up some practice within a few light years. That would make for a short enough jump if there was trouble, but far enough away that they wouldn't be suspected. Or picked up on any sensors.

He suddenly had a bad taste in his mouth, and poured himself a glass of Corellian Bourbon, then he contacted the bridge. "Contact all ships. I want us in formation and ready to leave within thirty minutes. Is that understood?"

With the reply of "Yes, sir!" Garm stood up, finished his drink in one swallow, and tried to find a section of space near Farlenx that would be plausible for him to practice in. He found it about five minutes before he wanted the Group to leave, and after a quick shave to remove the stubble on his cheeks, the General made his way to the bridge.

"I just had an idea," said Jones, who was disguised as Major Inspa. He looked at the eight man team in the shuttle, which had been designed to be especially difficult to detect so as to permit the effective implementation of covert missions that require infiltration and extraction through enemy territory. "Do any of you gentlebeings know how to fire a planet-based ion cannon?" he asked.

"Me," said one of the team, who was wearing a Rebel Alliance battle dress uniform. Another stared back and nodded with a grin.

"Good," said Smith catching on. "That will increase our options, especially if we run out of time or need to bust our way back into the GHQ.

The shuttle slipped carefully past the two listening posts on real estate in the outskirts of the system, avoided the two Golan battle stations protecting the 23,000 person colony and military installation (as well as the space-based construction facilities) and landed surreptitiously in deserted jungle. A standard armored Rebel Alliance vehicle exited the shuttle and the Imperial Intelligence team locked, loaded and lifted. The shuttle crew deployed camo-netting that was equipped to dupe surveillance in a variety of spectrums, including infra-red.  They activated passive sensors and an automatic defensive perimeter, and gave the action team time to be safely away.

"Think I have any time to do some fishing?" asked the co-pilot.

The twelve TIE Advanced starfighters exited hyperspace and bore down on the looming Super Star Destroyer in front of them.  Their trademark in transit, Blackhawk squadron exited hyperspace in a forward V with Blackhawk 1 and 3 flying side by side in the lead. Once they'd checked their sensors and determined that there weren't any enemies in the area, they slowed down and pulled back into a snowflake parade-flight pattern.
Grimo deftly flicked the com switch. "Blackhawk squadron reporting.  This is Captain Grimo Yevest.  My commanding officer, Admiral Bismarck, sent a message ahead of us," he said smoothly.

There was a pause.  ~Welcome Blackhawk squadron.  Captain Yevest, we've been expecting you. Please follow the guide beacon and proceed to Bay 42, where you will dock your vessels.  Someone will greet you and conduct you to where you will be briefed.~

"Blackhawk out." Grimo flicked the com over to his squadron's frequency. "I hate all this formal 'Thou shalt dock here' garbage we have to go through."

Blackhawk Three chuckled.  ~Gives you time to think.~

~The Quiet One speaks!~ Blackhawk Five gasped.  ~Alert the galactic media!~

Uniani didn't return fire, but Grimo smiled and shook his head.  Visq, Blackhawk Five, was new to the squadron, but he would learn how dangerous it was to make fun of Uniani Havoch soon enough.  The squadron held together on their assigned course. They flew briefly beneath the bottom hull of the Star Destroyer and slowed as they approached Bay 42.  Grimo cut his throttle, allowing his craft to drift into the tractor beam that would pull them into the bay.
Once the bay re-pressurized, Grimo popped his TIE's cockpit hatch and stood, unsnapping his helmet's straps and sliding it off.  He climbed out of the ship and slid off the smooth metallic surface to the ground, ignoring the rung ladder on the side of his ship.  He took a quick survey of the bay, noting that a woman in a white Grand Admiral's uniform was waiting by the door.  He nodded, then turned back to his squadron mates.

Uniani and Visq had reached the floor and were walking up behind him.  Visq glanced around the bay in the same manner Grimo had.  "Who's the broad?" he asked, transferring his helmet to his right arm in a deliberate imitation of Grimo.

Uniani paused, then drew his right arm back and punched Visq right in the back of the head.  Visq staggered forward, half-turning as he did so and caught Uniani's second punch directly in the eye.  Grimo laid a cautioning hand on Uniani's arm, but he hadn't intended to do any more punching.

"That 'broad'," Havoch said slowly and menacingly. "is none other than Grand Admiral Darin de Devastator. Show some respect."  Visq looked at Uniani Havoch in amazement and fear. He recovered enough to get his face back to normal, but the cockiness had gone out it.

"She's waiting," Grimo said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. He turned and continued to approach Grand Admiral de Devastator without waiting for a response from either of his squadron pilots.

"Having trouble keeping your pilots in line, Captain Yevest?" Darin asked before they'd reached her.

Grimo stopped and saluted, then turned a backward glance at Five. "Not anymore, Admiral. I was told you have new ships for us?"

"I do indeed," she said smoothly. Her gaze flowed over the men in front of her, lingering only slightly on Blackhawk Three. She gave him an almost imperceptible smile, then gestured towards the door. "But you must be tired from your flight. Perhaps you'd care to refresh yourselves?"

"I know I would, Admiral," Grimo said aloud before anyone else could.  Uniani simply nodded in tacit agreement while the other squadron members added in chorus-like style, "Yes, Admiral."

"Excellent," Admiral de Devastator said.  She gestured to the lieutenant standing behind her.  "Lt. Halpern will show you to your quarters.  When you have received your rest and refreshment, I'll take you to see your new fighters."

'Tipped turbolasers abound about me' Ibran thought.  With Kyra and Rayla proceeding him, he knew that any action he might take would bring instant retribution. Thinking, however, would certainly be allowed.  His mind bounced back to the little conversation he'd had. He knew Domino had been listening in, he just knew it. 'Rule One of meeting new people: always record their thoughts for future use against them,' he thought.  He paused, then tilted his head in thought. 'I suppose it was a poor choice of subject, though. Yes, it most definitely was. Accept it and move on.'
Ahead of him, Rayla and Kyra had stopped at a door.  Ibran had been so lost in thought he hadn't noticed he'd been lagging.  He hurried along before they caught him at it.

Rayla tapped in the door's code, and it slide aside to reveal a large room.  Along one wall was a rack of various weapons.  Towards the back were various pieces of exercise equipment, and off to the open left side of the room was a practice area.  There were a few other doors in the room, whose purpose he could only guess at.
Ibran took his eyes off of the room's contents and saw that both Rayla and Kyra were watching him. "What?" Ibran asked.

Rayla gestured. "Enter."

Ibran was instantly wary, but he didn't let any of it show.  He hoped.  "Ladies first," he bowed.

Apparently he'd done the right thing, because both Kyra and Rayla had approving expressions. "At least you know your place," Kyra said.

"When he's reminded of it," Rayla added.

"Control is something I have yet to master," Ibran said simply.

Rayla's chin lifted. "That is but one of the things you will learn as Lord de Devastator's apprentice," she said, and entered the training room.

Ibran didn't bother to correct her.  It would only cause trouble, and he could see that both of his 'training partners' were waiting for an excuse to vent their respective furies on him.  'Oh, the grand life of a Jedi.'

Bismarck and Regius had just returned to the Scythe's bridge when Major Radfell, one of the ship's comm officers, approached him.  "Sir, we've received a transmission from our Holonet bug on Drepherous IV."

"Oh?" Bismarck's curiosity had been pricked. "And what does it say?"

"It details an incident that happened not long ago on a planet in the Innox sector.  Someone named Tashannoc was searching for something there.  The message mentions magic, but does not go into detail."

'This magic can only mean the Force,' Bismarck knew.  "Fascinating. Very fascinating," he murmured.  "I certainly wasn't expecting results this soon."  He glanced sidelong at Regius.  "A lesson in asking questions. Who was the message to?"

The aide checked the report he held. "Zalari Smorn. He's an information broker who works out of Coruscant. Intelligence doesn't know very much about him, but apparently he knows a thing or two about them."

"Curious. I want to meet this Smorn fellow," Bismarck turned to Captain Regius. "Regius set up a meeting in your name. We must preserve whatever remains of my secrecy, after all."

"Yes, Admiral," the aide said, and ducked out.

Bismarck frowned. A third mention of Drepherous IV in the past three days. There were very few things that could be classified as destiny to a man of war, but this stretched coincidence to its' limits. "Perhaps Lord de Devastator's mysterious Force is at work for me, too," he smiled. His face went serious. "Or perhaps... perhaps a focal point of the Force has passed that way recently." That struck him as a possibility worth consideration. He would need to speak with Lord Grissk immediately to determine its worth.

"Captain, you have the bridge. I'm afraid I have a question or two for Lord Grissk- no, wait. On second thought, you come too.  Commander Imald has the bridge."  The two of them trekked back to Bismarck's meditation chamber, where they re-entered it. "Now, to call on Lord Grissk." Bismarck said, seating himself and activating the comm switch to the outer door.

"Admiral Bismarck!"

Bismarck blinked. He hadn't been expecting a reply. A wry smile crossed his face. He, an Imperial Admiral, was being surprised quite soundly. "Yes, Lieutenant Fargus. What is it?"

"Admiral, Lord Grissk is here to see you. He says that you wanted him for a discussion?"

Bismarck let out a half chuckle. "Yes, I did indeed. Tell him that his arrival was most timely, and that I'd like to thank the Force for small favors."

"No need, Admiral," Grissk said as the doors to the room parted. He stepped in. "I heard. I believe you wanted to ask me a question?" He paused and noted Regius' presence. "How much does he know?" he asked, gesturing.

"I have no need to keep secrets from him," Bismarck announced. Ignoring Grissk's minor display of omniscience, he continued. "Are there focal points for the Force, and do they have an effect on events?"

Grissk's expression indicated he was pondering. "I believe so," he said. "Certainly Lord Domino is one such. Why?"

"But he hasn't been to Drepherous IV recently, has he?" Bismarck asked intently.

"Not to my knowledge, no. Why do you ask?" Grissk repeated.

Bismarck handed over the datapad he'd gotten from his messenger. "This is the third incident I've learned about that occurred on the planet of Drepherous IV in three days. Three days, Lord Grissk. I suspect that someone very connected to the Force has been there, and that person's actions will have unforeseen consequences."
With that, he arched an eyebrow and smiled victoriously while leaning back in his chair. "Consequences I will exploit."

Tyne backed himself against the wall to prevent any member of the gang from getting at his back. He knew he cut off his only exit that way, but it was more comforting to know that there wasn't going to be a vibroblade slipping though his spine in the middle of the fight. The leader had lifted himself from the ground, wiping at the dirt on his back. Evan had disappeared.

The first shot came set on kill. The Force lifted Tyne's lightsaber to block it. He could almost hear Alia's voice in the back of his head and was taken back to her lessons on defense even if the energy being aimed at him now was a little more dangerous than that in the remote.  'Let the Force flow through you,' another bolt splashed against his blade.  'You don't have to do anything consciously to defend yourself, just let the Force flow through you.'  Another bolt and another. Tyne was starting to break a sweat. The man with the whip had stepped back from the group and a vague part of the Jedi's consciousness recognized this as a threat.  Before he could react, the whip lashed out, striking his hand and sending the lightsaber flying. The weapon hit the ground and the blade went out, plunging the group into partial darkness.

"Now watcha' gonna' do, boy?" grinned the whip-master. "Not so high an' might without yer lil' toy, are ya'?"

Tyne thought about every possible exit and could find no way out.  He was trapped and the gang was aiming its blasters right at his head.  Suddenly, another shot blasted across the distance, striking the whip wielder in the back. The rest turned, firing blindly into the shadows behind them, giving Tyne enough time to call his lightsaber to him.  The closest blaster turned and aimed, and was rewarded with his hand and blaster being disconnected from the rest of his arm.
His shrill scream startled the others into silence, as they regarded Tyne in a slightly different light. "I'm going to tell you again," he said, hoping they wouldn't notice how much his voice was shaking. "Drop your weapons, put your hands over your heads, and go home.  I don't want to kill anyone."

With a large degree of hesitation, the group followed his instructions and backed into the street, breaking into a stumbling run as soon as they were out of the shadows.  Evan stepped around his barricade, stuffing his small blaster back into it's holster. Tyne regarded him irritably. "You could have jumped in any time, you know."

"I saved your rump, didn't I?  You were doing good enough for both of us."

Tyne grinned and opened his mouth again just as bright lights shone their way into the alley.  "This is Commander Wallace of Spaceport Authority. You will lay down your weapons and await our intervention.  I repeat, you will lay down your weapons and prepare to be searched."

"I'm glad the Headquarters is still there," said Smith looking at the structure through his macrobinoculars.  "However, I really think the explosives we set off in the reactor room should have resulted in a chain reaction by now." Smith paused to mentally review the placements, and could not fault them.  The reactor should have blown!  Then again, if the headquarters were a big hole in the ground, it would make the new mission far more difficult.

"Tough," said Jones, who was next to him in the office building in the city. "They must have had a whole new reactor worth of spare parts and one heck of a lot of luck. Either that, or a bad tempered Wookiee supervising them.  So, here's the plan.  According to the data we obtained on our last raid, the hardwire connection between the GHQ Battle Center and the v150 ion cannon battery runs underneath this basement.  So, first we are going to put an intercept, a switch and relay controlled bit of reprogramming into it.  Nothing that a security sweep from either end will catch, at least until it is too late.  Nothing that will impair the battery, or even require our presence there."

'Which is good, considering the beefed up security. We will need every man with us to bust in and out again,' they each thought.

"Second," said Jones, "I am going to see if they have the main computer at the headquarters back up.  I assume if they stock infinite spare parts, a large quantity of computer cores were part of the supply.  And I assume they have done a very credible job eliminating most of the viruses we put into their system, though I expect your Fizzyglug commercial probably made it through the sweeps since it is not actually threatening.  I am just going to test a few systems, make a hard-line connection in from somewhere other than here and see if the computer that answers is the other half of our old friend."  The complex slicing he had in mind - breaking through security blocks and counterespionage programs - was far more complex than that, but pithy sayings can't be too long when you are trying to sound smart.

"If not, then maybe it will know where the old cores were taken," suggested Smith.

"Right. Wrong. Don't interrupt when I am thinking," said Jones in an annoyed voice. "Show some respect for your superior officer, I outrank you this time," he continued.

Captain Lanox walked onto the bridge after a brief rest.  "Anything news?" he asked upon arrival.

The on-duty lieutenant said, "We received a message from Deathwail and they said the order would come within the hour."

"Good." He was tired of waiting and ready to fight. He looked out the viewport at Yaga Minor and the amassed fleet of Alpha Battle group.  The attack on Ord Farlanx was only hours away and it was about time for the diversion to begin.

Lanox turned around as the lieutenant said, "Sir, Admiral Delsin just sent the order. The Interdictor Warpath will be joining us for the attack." Sergus turned again and watched an Interdictor move towards his group.

"Once she's in position, let's get out of here," Sergus said.  The 7 ships pulled together mere moments later into a diamond formation.  Captain Lanox quickly checked to see that all ships had reported readiness, and together they leapt into hyperspace.

#####

A few hours later the battle unit pulled out of hyperspace; they were only one short, 60 minute jump away from Ord Farlenx. Captain Lanox told his com officer to open a channel to all ships, "All ships, we'll form up into Imperial Standard Entrapment position.  Warpath, I'll need your gravity well projectors online in 45 minutes. We're expecting the convoy in about an hour.  Look sharp, shoot straight, and make the Sith Lord happy."  Captain Sergus Lanox settled in for a short wait, once again.

"This is a ridiculous and unnecessary risk.  You have already 'adjusted' the target acquisition programming for the ion cannon battery. There is no need for us to bust in there and man the battery ourselves," said Smith as he examined the schematics for the defensive perimeter and compared them to the doubled security now present.

"It is my turn to be in charge, and I don't want to 'blow it' again. What if the first Imperial shot knocks out the defense grid? What if someone blows up the hardwire connection to the headquarters? What if some Rebel gunner decides to aim manually?" retorted Jones, who was disguised as Major Inspa including synth-flesh gloves with the correct genetic sequence and retinal overlays.  Just to be sure, though, he also had a universal code key programmed with stolen data.  "You know the plan. The Fleet has already started its operation. We have to be in place, now. Let's go!" he demanded.

"Wait a minute. Once that battery shoots, both sides are going to be trying to flatten it.  And if they are trying to flatten it, that means they'll be trying to flatten us.  Shouldn't we wait to see if Plan A works?" asked Smith.  He stared intently into the sky about where he visualized the Golan defense platforms, with their really heavy weapons.  Floating just overhead, in geosynchronous orbit, they'd be able to lay down a thick sheet of laser-hot death.

"Forget it. Who wants to live forever?" retorted Jones signaling the team to commence the plan.

'I hope this works better than the Wookiee fleas,' thought Smith.

#####

The armored vehicle moved forward slowly and ground to a halt in front of the sentry post before one of the sentries had a chance to signal it to stop.  The v150 ion cannon battery was surrounded by a pentagon of pillboxes, each containing two E-web repeating blasters with crews of two for each cannon. These pillboxes were connected to an underground corridor that had exactly one heavily guarded access point to the interior of the battery. Low cut green fields separated the battery, the pillboxes and the electrified fencing. There was an eight hundred yard clean field of fire between the pillboxes and the fencing.  Electronically activated land mines had been sowed under the grass. The installation had the usual assortment of motion detectors, and beyond the perimeter there were additional defenses including air defense weapons.  The sentry post was at the entrance to the installation, and included its own turret with heavy duty blasters, a reinforced steelcrete structure, complete with bathroom and gunports, and a triple row of pop-up durasteel road-blocks, all currently in the no-pass position.  Normally there were five guards, but General Tashannoc had ordered the entire planet onto full alert and doubled that to ten.  The Alliance had also installed a separate shielding system to defend the v150 and its perimeter, though that was not yet up.

A goodly number of the mounted blasters took careful aim at the lifter with 'Major Inspa' and his team.  A team of sentries took up position around the vehicle with weapons aimed to make sure no terrorist could jump out and commit mayhem. "Step out of the vehicle, please," said one of the guards to 'Major Inspa' and his driver.  Jones and one of the Alliance-uniform clad Imperial spies stepped out.
Jones stared at the corporal who had asked him to get out.  The corporal, called Gemick, seemed to be in charge, and he refused to be intimidated. Corporal Gemick had one hand on his blaster pistol, and pointed at a scanner plate embedded in a dura-steel reinforced housing. Jones stepped over to the plate and put his hand on it. It flashed clear, and the Corporal looked visibly relieved and took his hand off his holster.  The other sentries had also recognized Major Inspa, and now that their boss was satisfied it was indeed him, returned to their stations.  Corporal Gemick nodded, and the gunners in the pillboxes returned to their other business.
"Sir! Sorry to run you through the mill, but General Tashannoc has ordered us to be especially vigilant. You know, of course, that access to the v150 is currently restricted, sir!" said the Corporal with a smile.

Jones did his best to mimick Major Inspa's voice, but wisely decided to sound hoarse on the theory that the corporal might have met the real Major. He croaked out a few unintelligible words.  The driver quickly caught on and filled in "Major Inspa is here to inspect the defenses, and he brought the team in back to increase your defensive personnel.  He disagreed with General Tashannoc's decision to merely double the guards - felt we needed to be more careful after the sabotage at the headquarters." Jones croaked and nodded, thrusting a datapad with expertly forged orders forward for the Corporal to examine. They had genuine Alliance confirmation codes, and given the tap on the landline and other slicing touches into the central computer, the orders withstood the scrutiny the Corporal put them through. After a few more pleasantries about the near-fatal reactor incident and bombing of security headquarters, the vehicle and squad were admitted to the installation.

MOVE ON NOW TO PART IV

RETURN TO THE STAGING AREA
RETURN TO THE BATTLE ARCHIVES

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