MOVE ON NOW TO PART V
Domino watched as Captain Lanox's group leapt to hyperspace. Darin had contacted him to announce that she had met the pilots of Blackhawk squadron and within 30 minutes of their arrival they were doing simulator runs to prepare themselves for the use of the TIE Enforcers. 'Within minutes Alpha Battle Group will make the jump to hyperspace as well. I wonder how those Intelligence agents made out on Ord Farlenx. I suspect I'll find out if Ubiqtorate informs me that I caused their demise.'
Domino walked off the bridge.
#####
Alia had spent the last hour by herself, meditating and stretching out through the Force. She could feel him approaching. 'Peace and quiet doesn't last forever. The Dark Lord has come to call on me.'
Moments later, she was only somewhat surprised to hear a door chime, as she had actually expected him to simply barge on in. She pressed the release switch, though she doubted it would keep many on this ship from reaching her. "It is time to begin your training," he said. Alia noticed that he was very serious, yet somehow not foreboding at the moment. "Ibran is still with Rayla and Kyra in the training room, so we will go to my smaller meditation chamber."
In the meditation room, Domino instructed Alia to sit as he produced two items from a small chest in the corner of the room. She thought she saw the slightest glimmer of a playful grin on the Dark Lord's features as he placed the items on the floor ten feet from her and then sat next to her. Looking over at her, he said, "I like this exercise."
Alia looked at the two items, only guessing what would be done with the glass jug and the small stone. "You will be taking a large leap in your abilities to control the Force. It moves among everything in the universe, binding everything together, and yet, we take for granted just what that means. The Force surrounds every little object, creature or creation... down, even, to the molecular level."
'Great. I'm sitting with the Dark Lord of the Sith, and he's giving me Force Training 101' Alia thought.
Domino held up his hand. "Watch." He looked at the bottle and the rock, then lifted the rock and placed it on top of the glass jug. "Reach out and lift the jug, then turn it upside-down."
She
extended her feelings and felt the jug, then exerted more effort and lifted it,
turning it over as Domino requested. The
rock fell off.
She set the jug back down and Domino nodded.
He said nothing as he picked the rock up again and set it on top of the
jug. "Again." he said.
Again, she picked the jug up, but when she turned the jug over, the rock
stayed in place. "As you can
sense, I am not exerting any power over the rock. It is staying in place because I have removed every last
molecule from within the bottle. Inside that bottle is a perfect vacuum. Go
ahead, try to physically remove the rock."
Going
along with the exercise, she walked over and attempted to remove the rock from
the rim of the jug. It didn't
budge. "Now watch," Domino said. He produced a glove from a
pocket and placed it on his right hand. He
stepped over to the jug and jabbed it lightly with the tip of his fingers.
The bottle shattered.
Alia
sat and considered this as he removed the glove and produced a second jug from
the small chest. "It's your turn," he said as he looked at her.
Inside the emplacement, "Major Inspa" and his squad had conducted an "inspection" and reinforced or relieved certain critical areas, especially the communications and fire control desks. With the advice of one of his men who had the requisite heavy gunnery experience, Jones was sure that a modest amount of hacking (as previously thought and implemented) would be sufficient to lock target acquisition onto a Golon defense platform instead of, say, an Imperial Star Destroyer. That is not what was bothering them.
They were not even particularly bothered when the real Major Inspa called. He told Smith, who was operating the com desk and using a different disguise than at their last meeting, that he would be by for an inspection. No, that was not the most immediate problem.
Nor, to tell the truth, were they overly troubled by the matter of how they were going to get out of there. Smith assumed that Jones, who was in charge of this mission, had it adequately planned. Jones had indeed set one of his men to do something about it, but was not really paying attention. No.
Here is the rub. It takes a crew of 27 to fire a v-150, or a skeleton crew of 12 if highly trained. Smith, Jones and the squad added up to ten bodies, of which only two had the required aptitude and neither of those two had practiced at all recently. These few facts were making life complicated for the loyal Imperial agents. Smith had to keep telling himself that this was the only troubling factor. Smith had to keep telling himself that it wasn't Jones's insane tendency to plunge without thinking into suicidal missions requiring gratuitous violence and destruction as a substitution for repressed feelings and urges that his partner could have otherwise satisfied in more normal fashion.
Tyne breathed a sigh of relief as the military man stepped around the light wearing a distinct Rebel Alliance uniform. "A disturbance was reported here. Is there aproblem, sir?" The soldiers fanned out around him, vanishing into the shadows. Evan had, according to an apparent personality characteristic, disappeared again.
Tyne laughed nervously. "Commander, you'd never believe how glad I am to see you! Yes, there was a disturbance, but I took care of it."
Wallace raised an eyebrow. "You did, did you? I'd like to see some identification. If you check out, you'll be on your way."
The Jedi laughed again and pulled out his ID with a flourish. "Here, here. Take it." The commander growled and took the ID, stepping around his bright light. Tyne had yet to see what was behind it. He assumed some sort of repulsorlift military vehicle. Several moments later, he returned, wearing a subdued expression and behaving much more civilly. "I apologize for the intrusion, Jedi Chartise. We received a call about a disturbance here and we thought it may have been Imperials."
Tyne nodded. "There are a lot of Imperials floating around these days." Speaking of which... "But no, these were just a bunch of bullies who'd had too much to drink."
"Commander! We've found an Imperial spy!"
Tyne paled. Don't let it be Evan. Please, any higher power that's out there, don't let it be Evan.
Four armored troops stepped into view, Evan between them. "No Imperials, huh, Jedi Chartise?" Tyne shrugged. "I think you'd better come with me and explain this to one of the higher-ups, don't you?"
Tyne nodded and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Yeah, yeah. I probably should."
'My turn to do what?' Alia wondered. Looking up into Domino's eyes, she asked him, "My turn to break the jar?"
"Obviously." Alia bit her lip and looked back at Domino. "Remove all the molecules from the vessel as you place the stone over the opening, remember?"
She nodded and looked back at the jar, concentrating on the energies inside of it. This must have been the fiftieth time she'd heard this particular lecture, but never the same exercise. It wasn't necessarily a Dark Side exercise, that much was clear. 'May as well do it.'
Alia
concentrated on removing all of the air from within the jar until
she could sense no more. "Now?" Domino shrugged, as if to tell
her that it was entirely up to her. She stood up, pulled
her sleeve over her hand and tapped the jar.
Nothing
happened. "What? What'd I do wrong?"
"Did you remove every particle?"
"Well...," she looked back at the jar, "...no."
"Then
it will never crack. Try again, look closer."
Alia
sighed and again went back to removing the free-floating particles. Again, she
wrapped her hand in her sleeve and touched the glass. It shattered.
"Good. You have learned that everything must be done completely in good time.
It is a
fool who will not pay attention to the smallest detail of the Force. You
yourself saw that the glass would not have shattered had you not removed all the
particles." Alia nodded. "You see that details are what can save a
person, or destroy him."
The news anchor, a lizard-like being with an elongated neck and three eyes, continued speaking in its' native language of hisses and hums. The silver translator droid next to Bismarck continued its monologue as it rendered the speech into Basic. "A recent bombing of the Green scale caste-whex building has government officials worried for their safety. Our on-site reporter Tus'nub has the story. Tus'nub?"
"Thank
you, Ter'kron." The image of a building appeared with another Drepheri in
front of it. The building had a
gaping hole along the side where a section of it had obviously collapsed.
"I am currently standing before the Administration building which
has recently suffered heavy damage. As
you can see-" the lizard gestured at the hole with its tail "-the
building was damaged all the way down to the foundation.
At first, seismic activity was thought to be the cause, but
this theory was dismissed after a more thorough examination.
The
screen shot changed with the lizard kneeling beside the broken wall.
"The White scale caste-phleps Analyst Oger'ean has determined that a
grenade exploded at the wall's base, leading to the damage you see.
The Administrator's office is right up there," -the lizard gestured
towards part of the hole- "and because of that, the White scales believe it
highly probable that the incident is an assassination attempt gone awry. Footage from a security camera in the building seems to corroborate
this."
At
this point, the image altered itself into a color picture of a woman standing in
the alley beside the building.
The position of the camera made it impossible to see her face
and also put her at the edge of the shot. The
recording started, depicting her yanking a lightsaber from her belt.
She swung the weapon a few times, apparently attacking someone out of
view, then leapt past the edge of the camera. A moment later, the picture shook and power to the camera suddenly
ceased, leaving the screen dark.
The
news reporter went on. "This
footage has led the White scales to believe that a Jedi was involved in the
bombing. A reward of up to 10,000 credits has been offered by the White scales
for any information leading to the detainment of the woman in this
video."
The angle of the shot changed, showing the reporter standing out front of the bombed building again. "The Administrator said that he feels lucky he was in a meeting with several off-world delegations at the time. He is now changing his platform for the Rebel Senate election that will come up in several months. Although his former platform on a military buildup has changed, its replacement has yet to be announced."
At this point the scene flashed back to the first lizard Bismarck had seen. "Thank you, Tus'nub, for this report. I-"
The
viewscreen clicked off. "You
may go," Bismarck told the translator droid, resting his hands on the cool
steel arms of the chair. "I
want the recording of the transmission in my hands before the hour is
out." The
droid made a movement of acquiescence, but Bismarck's interest now lay in one of
the viewscreens that had a feed of the view from the main bridge.
After the droid left, he flicked the lights off and continued to stare at
the view of Drepherous IV.
"Supremely
intriguing," he said. "This
will require careful manipulation and extremely cautious, lengthy
planning."
He broke off and sat in silence for a while. "But what I've just witnessed is exactly what I've been waiting for," he continued after a dark gleam had settled into his eyes, "And it will have the galaxy raging insatiably for the blood of the Jedi."
CRACK!
Ibran
fell to his knees, then rolled desperately to the side before Kyra's follow up
swing could connect.
Except
that Rayla was already there, her own wooden stave targeting his midsection.
There was a sharp pain as the stave hit, then Ibran launched a kick at
Rayla that was intended to miss. Rayla
slid easily aside, allowing Ibran to land on his feet. Except
that one of his knees had taken a blow earlier, so his stance wobbled and dipped
before he managed to get on both feet.
The delay cost him critical seconds as Kyra once again launched herself at him. He barely had time to prepare himself for the impact before she was on him, her stave out in front of her and held in both hands. The weapon caught Ibran by the neck, pinning him to the ground.
"Yield," Kyra said, her breathing coming out in short-heavy gasps.
"Very
well," Ibran said, his own breath not coming any easier. "I yield."
Kyra
got up off him, then swung her stave at his midsection, one final insulting
blow. Ibran
caught the stave with his mechanical arm and wrenched it out of her tired grasp.
"Apparently, your concepts of 'honor' and 'yielding' aren't quite up
to par with everyone else's," he said, using one of the staffs as a lever
to get himself back on his feet.
"What good is honor if you're dead?" Kyra shot back.
"Moot point, since I'm not," Ibran replied. He used one of the staves to add balance to his injured leg. He glanced tiredly at his two adversaries. "Are we done? I'm tired of fighting."
Rayla glanced coldly at him. "No," she said, bringing her staff to an attack position.
"Well,
I am," Ibran said and started for the door, using the one staff as a
crutch. And
in the instant he did so, Rayla threw herself at him, her staff lancing out to
attack-
Except
that a tiny flickering of Ibran's Force senses that managed to penetrate the
darkness around him got through, enough so that his own stave was directly in
the path of one of Rayla's eyes when she made her attempt.
With a frustrated scream, Rayla twisted in the air, coming to land on her
feet a few meters away from Ibran. She
glared at him, a glare that would peel the paint off a Star Destroyer's hull had
it been directed as such.
Ibran
straightened, then tossed Kyra's stave back to her.
"I believe this belongs to you," he said. He strode casually over to the door, then sat beside it in a meditative
posture.
"I believe I concur with you, Jedi," Rayla said, ignoring his comment. "We must refresh ourselves if we are to be of any use to Lord de Devastator during the crushing of Ord Farlenx." A cruel smile appeared on her face and Kyra mirrored the action. "Male showers are over there," she said, pointing to one of the doors in the room. She and Kyra marched resolutely to one of the other doors and entered it, leaving Ibran alone in the room.
Ibran
went to the door that had been pointed out to him, opened it, and stepped inside
after making sure it was a shower area. He
stripped and went over to one of the showering alcoves. The warm water felt good on his skin, and when he was clean he felt
invigorated. He
went back to his black shirt and trousers.
They were made from of the kind that filth resistant fibers; dirt, sweat, and oils had no apparent effect
on the fabric. He
carefully took the outfit and washed it out in the shower, then shook it dry and
started to put it back on. As he
pulled his shirt over his head, he caught sight of several ugly bruises on both
his arm and his chest. Since the
shirt was short-sleeved, the ones on his arm would be somewhat
noticeable.
'I
hope Alia appreciates what I'm doing for her,' he thought. 'If this was all for nothing...'
He
sighed, then stood and left the shower.
"Could you feel yourself coming into contact with each individual molecule?" Domino asked.
Alia nodded, thinking. "I could, as if I suddenly realized for the first time that I am surrounded by molecules of varying substance."
Domino clapped her lightly on the back, "My dear, you are truly talented and it will be a pleasure for me to watch your abilities grow. Now, in that last exercise, what did I use to tell me that the inside of that bottle was complete vacuum?"
Alia thought for a moment before replying. "The stone."
"Very
good," he proclaimed as the stone rose from the floor and floated between
them, spinning slowly. "Certainly,
you accomplished the task, but you failed to employ the aid of this simple
tool." Domino noticed a look
of distress crossing Alia's countenance as he said the word failed, and immediately
changed his approach to the situation. "This
is not meant as a chastisement but merely as an opportunity to learn," he
reassured her, smiling. "The
point is that you succeeded in the exercise. In the future you will learn things, such as finesse, that will drive you
toward using every available tool at your disposal."
The
Dark Lord took a deep breath.
"We will take time for a light meal now. I'm sure you are a little
famished after exerting so much
energy."
"I do feel a little tired and hungry. That exercise couldn't have taken me more than 30 minutes."
Domino grinned. "Your first attempt took 30 minutes. You became so intent on your second attempt that I put myself in a trance for four hours. In all, you must have spent 6 hours on that exercise." Alia's mouth went slack. "Sometimes, and especially when we are deep in concentration, use of the Force can have a distorting effect over the passage of time."
Alia chuckled uncomfortably, "So I've learned."
Domino rested his hand on her shoulder. "After all that work you must be starving. Let's go get something to eat."
#####
The rebel convoy was right on time, and certainly not expecting to be yanked out of hyperspace so close to Ord Farlenx. Imperial Intelligence had supplied useful data once again. Bolts of light lanced out from the Imperial vessels as the rebel ships fought to retaliate.
"Guard 1, this is Convoy 1. They haven't yet launched their fighters. Get one of your escort fighters to fly out of the influence of their com jamming and interdiction field. We need to send word to Ord Farlenx that we're under attack. We can hold out for a little while, but are slightly out-gunned. Request assistance."
~Copy that, Convoy 1. That's an affirmative.~
Moments later, a lone A-Wing shot through the surrounding ring of Imperial ships and shot into hyperspace as it cleared the interdiction field.
#####
After the meal, Domino and Alia remained at the table as he explained some of the intricate aspects of Deominian politics and related them to Imperial bureaucracy. He became appreciative of how earnestly attentive she was in the conversation and decided to change the subject. "I apologize. Such topics as politics and cultural literaccccy fascinate me. Let us continue." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a single marble, roughly one half inch in diameter. toward the center of the table, a glass fruit bowl rested in a wooden stand. It was a perfect half sphere object. He called it to him telekinetically and manually removed the fruit from it. Then he placed it in the center of the table once again, but open end down.
"You are well on your way to increasing your control. You are very gifted. This is an exercise to hone your telekinetic edge." Just as he had done with the bowl, he used the Force to send the marble to the center of the table, placing it just next to the bowl. Alia watched as he caused the marble to roll up the side of the bowl to the very top. "When you get the marble to the very center, release your touch from it, just as I am doing now. Then grab it again and roll it back down the side. You must be certain that you have found the very center of the dish, or the marble will roll off before you have opportunity to grab it again."
Domino rolled the marble back down the side of the bowl and sat back to watch Alia as she inhaled deeply to begin.
Evan collapsed against a wall as Tyne struggled to remain upright and present a good front before the rebel commander. "You say he helped you? Have you even noticed his uniform insignia, Jedi Chartise?" Evan grimaced and glanced down at his torn clothing. Yes, they did look a bit like the Emperor's servants garments, but there were differences. Obviously this commander wasn't used to differentiating warlords by their livery.
Tyne wasn't exactly blind to Evan's likeness either. "Well, sir," he said, drawling in such a way that Evan knew he was making every bit of this up as he went along, "did it ever occur to you that this might be an undercover operative?" Lying was easier than attempting to fiddle with the man's mind. He was a lot better at lying.
The commanding officer looked a bit doubtful. "I think, sir, that I would have been informed if any of our noble men and women were risking their lives on this assignment."
Kethren's servant paled. The Jedi pressed forward. "Did it occur to you that we might be deep under cover? Are you the head of this operation, sir?" The soldier frowned.
"Well, no..."
"I thought not." Tyne grinned triumphantly. "Take my word," he continued, oozing sincerity, "as a Jedi Knight, I'd never do anything to harm this installation, much less something as stupid as allowing the enemy to penetrate our midst."
The officer still looked doubtful but there was nothing he could do without betraying his own superstitious distrust of Force related beings in front of his men. "Perhaps you'd like to see the general in charge?"
"Of course," Tyne bellowed, not allowing any of his false bravado to give way. "We have nothing to hide." Evan raked a hand through his hair. If he went any paler, he may just turn translucent altogether.
Inch by inch, the tiny marble made its way up the side of the bowl. Alia stared blaster bolts at the confounded thing, concentrating totally on it's slow, tedious progress. This time, her fifth try, she swore she was going to find the complete center of the dish if she killed herself in the process. Finally, the marble reached the top and, after more searching, came to rest in the complete center. Alia sucked in her breath and released her control. The marble quavered a bit before standing completely still and balanced atop its glass pedestal. Alia grinned triumphantly up at Domino, making sure he saw the marble.
She tapped the small object with the Force, causing it to roll off of the bowl and into her hand. "That was slightly harder than it looked."
Domino laughed. "Things of merit usually are."
Neb
had just completed the briefing on the exercises that would be run once the
Peregrine and the rest of the fleet dropped out of hyperspace.
It was late, and the rest of Omega Squadron left to get some sleep. He decided to stay and meditate for a while where it was quiet, but as he
closed his eyes, someone 'harumphed'.
"What
do you need, Captain Meyer?"
"Well, I was wondering what was really going on. I mean, we leave on an emergency drill, to someplace that nobody seems to know, and these exercizes? I mean, the fighters are hardly straying from the capital ships. It's as if they want us ready to leave on a moments notice. So, what's really going on?"
"I don't know, Jeffy. The General's even keeping me in the dark about this one."
"I was afraid you'd say that. Well, I'll let you get back to... whatever it is you were doing."
"Thanks. Goodnight, Jeffy."
"Goodnight." As he got to the door, Jeffy turned around for final remark. "Neb, one more thing. I have a bad feeling about this."
"So do I, Jeffy. So do I."
Major
Bjiatocah sat in a seedy bar in the middle of nowhere, talking with her men.
About an hour earlier, someone had tried to pick a fight with one of 'the
little funny looking guys,' and had ended up an arm short in the bargain.
Not that it was that big of a deal, since he had three more arms where the first
came from.
"So,
Major," Squak inquired, "What are we going to do?"
"I know what you mean. The alliance hasn't had much for us since that little setup on the ship. I've been thinking about it, and I think I'll try to contact my brother."
"What good will that do us?" Sting asked. "Is he going to give us a job?"
"That wasn't exactly what I meant." Bjiatocah took another swig of her bitter brew, then continued. "As long as he isn't on that planet of his, I figured we'd just go to wherever he's at."
Slag's ear twitched, the Zuu Shi equivalent of a human raising an eyebrow. "And then what?"
"Guys, trouble follows my brother like an obedient quarlg follows its master. If there's any excitement to be found in this galaxy, it's there."
Ibran
was exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally, morally...
Which
said something by itself.
For Ibran to lose interest in his morals meant that his
strengths were being eaten away at. Slowly,
painstakingly, the grueling contest had worn him down until survival was his
primary concern. Desperately,
Ibran tried to get a sense of peace in his mind.
And slowly but surely, the calm that came with relaxation and
concentration returned. Where
he was headed now, Ibran could only guess.
After his shower Rayla and Kyra had led him out of the training gym and
they were now walking along the gray corridors once more.
After what seemed an eternity, they arrived at a small room. "These are your quarters for the duration of your stay," Kyra told him. "You will remain here until summoned for."
Ibran
nodded wearily. He trudged into the
room provided and sat on the bunk. The
door closed, leaving Ibran alone in the room. He
sighed and sat on his bunk.
If nothing else, he could not allow himself to forget his
vow. Kill no one, accept
their weaknesses and their strengths and move on.
Oh
he was tired. So very tired.
He decided to put himself into a hibernation trance.
But he found he could not. Somehow, the Dark Side presence was interfering with his efforts. 'Purity,' he thought. 'Purity of thought, of intent, of deed. That is the essence of the Light and the fortification of the soul.' All at once, Ibran was lost amid the Force. His body sat in a cross-legged posture on his bunk in a trance, waiting for a sound to awaken it.
#####
Ibran's body instantly snapped to action. He cast his sense about, but realized that it was only the step of a stormtrooper marching past his door. He stretched and looked at the wall chronometer (two hours had gone by?) then got to his feet. His bracelet fell out of his pocket, where he'd put it for the duration. He smiled and picked it up- two silver snakes intertwined with each other, black gems for eyes, their tongues enmeshed in a serpentine kiss. Seeing the bracelet reminded him of why he'd wanted it. He'd wanted so few things, but this was one of them.
To pass the time, Ibran would exercise that reminder.
He looked about the room, and located a writing desk.
He opened it up and found among other things several flimsies and a
pen. He
sat and considered for a while what to draw, then remembered a sunset he'd seen
once. It had been on Ord Mantell,
when the sun was just setting beneath the horizon for the night.
The sky had been streaked with all sorts of different colors, and those
colors played games with the spiraling towers of the capital city
there.
That
was it. He picked up the pen and
began his work, singing as he did so.
"Won't
you concede and believe me?
Oh,
no, no, no, la, la, la, la
You
concede and believe me.
Oh,
no, no, no, la, la, la, la..."
A smile crossed his face as he sang the words. That particular song was nice, but he wanted something... a bit more cheerful.
"The
sun comes up over the ocean,
And
the river rises over the night sky,
And
the cities rise over the horizon,
And
the present keeps passing by,
But
there's just one thing, one simple thing
That
never seems to end.
As
the sun and the moon go about their lives,
I
will always be your friend."
Ibran sang the words to the song he'd pulled from his creativity. Drawing, singing, and remembering that from beautiful people can come beautiful things.
"It
lasts longer through time and space
Than
this song I've pulled from air,
So
if ever you find you need a hand,
Just
call and I'll be there..."
The Grand Vizier and his escort started their descent to the planets surface. Colonel Fahlwan gestured to an aide, "Have a shuttle prepared and Manticore Squadron on standby for escort duty. Have Colonel Seljik select a squad of troops for my bodyguard also."
"Yes Sir, will that be all?"
Dez thought for a moment, "No, request Captain Thorne and Colonel Seljik to attend me in my office."
"Aye Sir."
A few moments later Thorne and Seljik entered the Colonel's office. Dez returned their salutes, "Come in gentlemen have a seat. The proximity of Vizier Graize's Super Star Destroyer, not to mention the accompanying squadron of Imperial Star Destroyer escorts, has me worried about possible ambushes. Captain, I want you to put the fleet on yellow alert for the duration of our stay here. Be prepared to run on a moments notice. Seljik, make sure you send your best men with me and begin assembling an extraction team as a backup in case anything goes wrong. With Manticore Squadron and the troops I'm fairly confident we can get out on our own but it's best not to take chances."
Minutes later, twelve X-wings and an assault shuttle emerged from the Fahlwan's Pride and began their descent to the rendezvous below.
Domino smiled at Alia who seemed to be pondering everything the Dark Lord was saying. She thought he was about to launch into a whole new lesson just as Rayla and Kyra entered the room. "Where is Ibran?" he asked.
"We left him in his room," Kyra answered.
Rayla confirmed that. "The poor man was exhausted after the beating we gave him."
Domino nodded, "And you no doubt told him to join us for dinner when he was feeling refreshed?"
'What is it with this man and dinner. I'm sure Sith Lords need nourishment too, but Domino seems to eat six meals a day.' Alia thought as she listened to the conversation.
Kyra and Rayla looked at each other. "We had an understanding that you would want him treated barely better than a prisoner."
"No,
there is very little he can do to cause us trouble here.
He's not cleared to access any other sector of the ship, much less to depart from this particular wing on this
level of the Deathwail, so keeping him as a prisoner makes no
sense. Of course, he will be under
watch at all times, so his manifest desire to escape will be extinguished once
he knows he has close company."
He
gestured to Alia as he walked toward the door.
"Keep her entertained. She's
had a long day full of learning exercises. It's
time for her to relax. I'll go
invite the Jedi to dinner."
A single A-wing emerged from the gravity well and
jumped to hyperspace to alert Ord Farlenx. 'He's off to warn his
friends at Farlenx, which means the first part of my mission is complete,'
Sergus thought as he afforded himself a slight smile. 'Now it is time
for the action to begin.'
"Target the rebel frigate and bring it under fire. Launch the
fighters."
An entire wing of TIE fighter squadrons disgorged from the Star Destroyer and the rest of the fleet. With their fully charged, they themselves headlong into the attack. The defenders, consisting of one assault frigate, one corvette, and several container ships, huddled together in an attempt to make themselves a more sheltered target. This would be one commander's last great blunder. The container ships were not equipped with strong shields, and their hulls were relatively unarmored. The first container ship struck by a concussion missile blew apart spectacularly. Its components floated freely away into the dark dank of space.
"Sir, we have multiple fighter contacts from the frigate. Two squadrons of A-wings."
"Lieutenant, direct the three TIE Interceptor squadrons to head off the A-wings. The TIE Advanced squadron will escort the two Bomber squadrons to the frigate. That's our priority target; we're taking it down fast," Sergus said. He watched as the fighter squadrons altered their respective courses, a visible acknowledgment that they had received their newest orders. As the TIE Bombers began to hit the frigate hard, all the forward guns of the Star Destroyer hit the frigate's shields overloading them and eating away at precious hull armor.
"And now we watch the rebels die, lieutenant." Captain Lanox said as the frigate began to explode and fall to ruin. "This is but the first glorious victory for the Empire today."
"So, D-1," said Admiral Kanaris to the foot high gargoyle-like holographic figure perched on his desk, "just how many casualties were there in today's food riots on Jukero VI?"
"986 injured, 113 fatalities. Not much, but the property damage from the rioting and looting this week in the Kujii system is estimated at $3 billion credits. The local government has appealed to the Rebel Alliance governing body for a $3 trillion line of credit to shore up their foreign exchange deficit and provide an opportunity to restructure. The meeting was held in a public education facility since someone sold the defaulted mortgage on the capital building to a Hutt crimelord who is in the process of moving his entourage in," responded D-1.
"Well, that's not a bad start down the
slippery path. I am sure those
do-gooders will be unable to say no to such needy Alliance citizenry, especially
if a Jedi has any input. Can't let
those fine people die of starvation or civil disturbances, can they?" mused
Admiral Kanaris. "But speaking of people dying, we
really should have heard from Smith and Jones by now.
The other half of the cores were either on the planet or not.
Nobody in their right mind would want to be running around Ord Farlenx in
an Alliance uniform when Dark Lord Domino de Devastator's task force
visits," he continued, on a roll.
"And speaking of Ord Farlenx, that reminds me
of a request from the Undertaker," Admiral Kanaris said.
He keyed the intercom and had his seductive, but lethal, secretary come
into his even more heavily secured new office.
She walked in with a datapad set on record. "Tessana, we need to keep tabs on that
inconvenient Wookiee Jedi Master without earning another Imperial visit.
Place a
standing bounty for information on his activities
with the Assassins Guild, the Bounty Hunters Guild, each and every major crime
syndicate, and the ASPCA. Something
really large so that if he does not already feel as though every eye is
following him, he soon will," said Admiral Kanaris smiling. 'After all, our budget has just been materially invigorated by
the economic warfare operation in the Moddell sector.
We can afford to be helpful for our new friend in the Admiralty.'
"Can I see him? Ibran, I mean." Alia stood as Domino left the table and headed for the door.
The Sith Lord hesitated before answering noncommittally. "Perhaps."
He disappeared as Alia flopped back in her seat in
resignation. 'Good thing Marquis wasn't here. She'd laugh her head off,
I'm sure.'
"What are you looking at?" she asked Kyra
irritably.
The assassin raised her eyebrow in annoyance. "Really, Alia," Rayla began, sinking slowly into another chair, "must you be so impertinent? I'm sure you don't treat Lord de Devastator like you treat the rest of us."
Alia shrugged, glancing down at the table. "You didn't hurt him, did you?"
Kyra laughed. "Just a few broken bones here and there. Nothing bacta can't fix."
Alia speared Kyra with an angry glare just as Rayla intervened. "No, we hardly scratched him. We bruised him up a bit, but no real harm was done. If you're going to get angry, we're not the ones to bear the brunt of it."
"Oh, well who is?"
The assassin shrugged and grabbed a piece of fruit from the table. "You're smart, figure it out for yourself."
From beneath the hull of the Scythe, six pods appeared.
There was a brief pause, then the probots' traveling pods accelerated and
disappeared into hyperspace. "Inform me when information from the
probe droids begins to arrive. I want to find
Gregor Jarkov as fast as possible," Bismarck ordered.
The Undertaker swiveled on one heel, then walked to his command chair. "In the
meantime, send a transmission to Sillesk informing them of our upcoming visit.
Encode and send my files, as well. Send
along that nasty virus Lord Domino's men sent us, once, just in case someone's
interested in tapping our transmissions."
"Yes, Admiral." Regius saluted, then pointed at a bridge crew member. "Ensign... prepare the message and send it..."
#####
"Incoming message, Captain Billock," said the com officer. "We're reading heavy encrypt-priority marked for your eyes only."
"Let me see," Billock said. He reached over and slid his rank cylinder through the authorization slot. There was a beep and the message appeared onscreen. Billock digested the information, nodding and smiling. "I see... well, we'll have everything ready when he gets here." Billock switched off the display. "Send the 'spyproofing' request to Ubiquitorate. Admiral Bismarck will be here soon, and his anti-Jedi preparations will follow theirs, should they agree to it. Also, request a transfer for ISB Agent Toryn Cable."
Billock's second-in-command, a Sillestian, blinked. "Yes, sir. Is he expecting infiltration?"
The Captain smiled tightly. "You have your orders, Lieutenant. Dismissed."
Uniani flicked the switch.
"Engine prestart, confirmed." There was a chorus of other messages, all
confirmations. "Begin primary
ignition sequence." He ordered through the com in the new TIE Enforcer
cockpit, which had the new smell all recently stamped-out machines have.
Grimo could smell that smell from beneath his flight
helmet.
And in this ship, he liked it.
~Primary ignition, confirmed.~
Grimo nodded. "Begin test run of the equipment." There was a flash on his ship's display panel where various information started scrolling. So far, everything from shields to thrusters was operating perfectly. But then, caught as they were in the simulator booth, they weren't going anywhere.
Uniani nodded appreciatively at his new ship's theoretical status. "I like," he said on a private frequency to Grimo.
"Same," Grimo replied. He then cleared his throat and switched to his squadron's channel. "Okay, let's move out." The screen that simulated the space battle that would occur at Farlenx started up, bringing them a view of several targets.
Uniani smiled. "Golan's mine."
"Golan's all of ours," Grimo corrected.
"Whichever one is left standing is our primary target.
Ease in and drop off your proton torpedos, then pull out.
We're going to need maximum throttle, and make sure you've got laser
reserves going into your shields as we make the first pass."
The Golan station neared and Grimo squeezed the
warhead release on his flight yoke. In
a moment, there was a massive detonation as the torpedo struck.
Grimo pulled up, noting that his shields had taken minimal
damage.
Several other explosions sounded and Grimo swung
the ship about. The collateral
damage from Blackhawk's attack had (theoretically) created a massive crater
directly in the middle of the Golan where Imperial ships could sit and fire away
without risk to themselves.
After some casual small talk Thix left and Alex ate the rest of his meal deep in thought.
He had no idea that Thix and Becky were together but that was fine with him, he really had no further interest in Becky
beyond their lifelong friendship.
So why did he feel disappointed?
Alex shook his head, got up and paid for his meal. What he really needed right now was a walk. He started back towards the base when a whistle caught his attention. He turned to his left and saw Dex running toward him.
"Hey roomie!" Dex caught up to him out of breath a big smile on his face. "Hey, I've been trying to find you everywhere! The new X-Wings are in, let's go check them out!"
This was odd, the first time they met Dex said maybe two words to him and now he was scouring the area to tell him good news. "Sounds good to me, let's go."
They started off towards the hangar. Dex turned to Alex as they walked. "Hey, sorry about being abrupt with you the other day. I was just in a bad mood." Alex smiled, it was as though Dex had read his thoughts.
"What about?" Alex asked. As long as he was being friendly now he might as well get to know him.
Dex sighed "Well, I'm a pretty good pilot, I mean I can fly pretty well and I'm a good shot but..."
Alex walked along with him waiting for him to finish. "But what?"
"Well, it's just that as soon as someone gets behind me and starts shooting I totally freeze up and I panic and no matter how hard I try I can't get them off my tail and I try to compensate by not letting that happen in the first place, but sooner or later it happens anyway and I've been trying to practice in the simulators but I'm not getting any better!"
"Whoa! Slow down!" Alex laughed. Dex had been talking so fast he was barely able to understand him. "If what you just told me were written it wouldn't have had much punctuation at all. Tell you what, after we look at the new ships let's go down to the simulators and I'll see if I can offer any advice."
Dex's face lit up. "Yeah, that'd be cool! Thanks!" They walked along a little further when Dex asked. "So what are you going to name your new R2 droid?"
Alex gave a quick shrug. "Actually, I've never bothered. I figure if you name the silly things you might get attached to it and I don't ever want to end up dead because I was trying to save a piece of metal."
"Ah, c'mon, you gotta name it something cool. It gives it personality. Hey, if I think of a name can I name it for you?"
"Yeah, I suppose, what did you name yours?"
"Wampa Guts!" Dex said proudly. Alex put his head in his hands and shook it.
Greville Khern, an agent in Imperial Intelligence charged through a chain of command ostensibly originating with Admiral Trask, stared at the humanoid tending bar in the Busted Draknoid Bar. 'I wonder what a Draknoid is,' he thought. "You might as well take me in to see the Guildmaster. I'm not going away until I speak with him, and all your little secret exits are blocked," he said confidently.
The bartender glanced at the excess number of innocuous patrons in the establishment and realized that the being was probably telling the truth. It was more than a little embarrassing that some government agency had identified the current secret headquarters of the Lohgree Guild for Assassins, but not unheard of. He did a quick mental calculation on how the Guildmaster would react. Not Good, but at least his only responsibility was tending bar. A voice from the intercom speaker gave Khern the clearance he sought. ~[Send him in.]~
Greville was ushered into the back room of the bar, where a number of mercenary types pointed an odd assortment of weapons and detectors at him. 'No doubt these plasta walls have durasteel interiors, and those door jambs do more than catch fingers,' he thought as he began whistling to lighten the serious mood. "You know, I really don't need to endure this dignity," he said handing over a used handkerchief, his off-duty compact fletchette pistol, a few knives and a garrote concealed in a ring on his left hand. He had purposely removed most of his gear prior to entering the bar because the agency did not take kindly to letting outsiders inventory the good stuff. Khern was then ushered into a trubolift, jigged around, put through another body search by more thugs, and allowed into the office graced either by the leader of the Guild or a really good com unit. The voice of the guildmaster emanated from the other side of an opaque force shield.
"[You take great risk coming here]," the electronically disguised voice intimated to Greville.
"It's a living. I have an important message for your sensory organs alone, so you might want these associates of yours," he said, indicating the sentries behind him, "to give us some privacy."
"[Go.]" responded the vaguely disembodied voice. After they were alone and the door swished closed and locked, the quiet but distinctive electronic buzz of a high-grade privacy screen kicked on. "[Speak.]"
"You can skip the high and mighty business, Tulak. We know about your elevation, and I'm here with a business proposition," Khern said.
The Anzati male was shocked that the being -obviously an Imperial spy- knew his hidden identity, but saw no need to confirm that knowledge. Fact is, the Empire was a good customer. Not the biggest client of the Lohgree Assassins Guild, but a regular stream of full-rate commissions. If someone was going to find him, far better new business with excellent Credits than a contestant for the top spot. "[Continue.]"
Greville Khern muttered and shook his head as he pulled out a datapad and wrote down a number. "My employer will pay this," -he held up the pad so the Guildmaster could easily see it- "for useful information about the whereabouts and activities of Jedi Master Tashannoc, the Wookiee," said Karo. "This is a standing, open-commission available to your master Guild and the Bounty Hunter sub-guild. I think you will agree it is a very, very generous sum for such an insignificant activity," he finished.
"[We are assassins, not Imperial spies,] responded the Anzat with a spurt of anger.
"A state of affairs for which we are both no doubt profoundly grateful,"
Greville retorted. "But the fact is, if the activity you wanted to report was the death of the Jedi at the hands of one of your dues-paying members, I am confident that the pay scale would be appropriately adjusted. Still, that is not my message today. Against my better judgment, my superiors have decided to honor your organization with this tremendous opportunity to earn easy Credits and avoid all kinds of petty bureaucratic inconveniences. You know the kind: when the City Inspector finds a thermal detonator in your coffee or someone misplaces their proton torpedo in your freighter.
Or, possibilities forbid it be so, an Imperial Star Destroyer flushing clean its turbolasers accidentally vaporizes that bank -you know, the one with the cute Adorian tellers- where the biggest piece of your personal retirement funds are now held."
Khern couldn't help the smirk that crossed his expression.
He knew the sums being offered were extremely attractive, big enough so that even members of the Alliance might be tempted to moonlight. Still, he knew, and the Guildmaster knew and knew he knew, that spying on a Jedi Master was no safe feat. People tend to not see them in the first place, or have blank spots in their memory. But the Guild had a lot of very talented individuals, including a much higher percentage of non-humans than the
chauvinistic Empire employed. Many of those other beings had specific abilities that might make the assignment more feasible.
"[We will consider your offer,]" said the Anzat, wondering what it would be like to stick his proboscises into the arrogant young officer's brains and suck them dry. 'Don't kill the messenger, or argue with the paying clients,' Tulak thought as the outrageous sum sunk further into his consciousness. 'I would like to eat a Jedi's luck,' he mused.
"Thank-you. Oh, before I forget... He is at Ord Farlenx now. He'll be leaving there soon, and we'll be interested in his whereabouts after that." Greville Khern felt that the service parameters were clarified sufficiently, and he walked out to collect his things from the guards at the door.
There was a slight hiss as the last starfighter rack was offloaded from the carrier.
A delivery ticket was handed over to one of the officers in attendance. The officer strolled back along the promenade from the docking bay, examining the ticket. The equipment that had been offloaded would soon be garrisoning Sillesk's surface.
"I-7 Howlrunners? Howlrunners?" the officer shook his head and whistled through his teeth. "Looks like
Captain Belgh's supply requests got ignored. That'll cause trouble."
Still, aged equip was better than no equip. And the officer had to admit that Belgh was good with old equip. Not that it would matter to the good Captain.
Bismarck sat in his meditation chamber going over a file he'd dredged up recently. "'Report of new MC-80 ships being built in Kanchen sector'. Interesting. I shall have to puzzle out what this means."
The intercom to his chamber twittered. ~Sir? We have a report from the probe droids. Droid three has detected activity.~
Bismarck instantly sat bolt upright in his chair. "You're sure?" he asked.
~Three is still transmitting the data, but it looks like there has been starship travel through that area recently.~ There was a pause. ~I can wait until the other droids have reported in-~
"No need," Bismarck cut him off. "Follow the vector given on star charts and select possible endpoints. If I'm right, it will lead us to Gregor Jarkov, eventually. Also, send a message to Intelligence requesting any data they have on the planet Drepherous IV. I don't suspect they'll have much, as the Drepheri keep a fairly tight control on who lands on their homeworld, but whatever they have, I need."
~Yes, sir.~
Setting aside the datapad, he called up his own map and began examining it for possible systems. "I'll find you, Gregor Jarkov," he muttered to himself. "Trust me, I will. And when I do... your assistance will be priceless."
Dalon Marr issued another dose of stun gas into his hold to subdue the prisoner who was threatening to injure himself against the walls of the force cage he was imprisoned in, then carefully landed the Maw on the designated pad on Ord Mantell. He had a few hours to wait before he would be paid for the bounty, and decided it would be productive to look for a new job while he was waiting to finish up his old one.
Immediately a posting caught his eye. Someone wanted info on Tashannoc, specifically his activities and whereabouts.
Marr was tempted only for a moment. He had dealt with the Wookiee before, and had profited greatly from it.
He had pushed the Wookiee's good will a little too far already with the stunt he had pulled at Kashyyyk while looking for the Trynyty girl.
He wasn't about to risk annoying the Wookiee any more. Besides, this stank of Imperial credits.
Whenever the Imps looked for someone else to do their dirty work, it was either because they were inept or wanted to keep their
precious little hands clean.
He laughed off the idea, wished the best of luck to whatever poor sap tried the job, and went back to finding a real job.
Lerma was in hysterics. BoShek wasn't sure how to react to the little being's laughter. Tears were streaming from all three eyes. "I'm not sure that this is a laughing matter, Lerma" BoShek commented.
Lerma took a moment to compose himself. He turned his seat in the command center so that he was facing his friend. "Oh, yes, it is. Don't you see? Tasha must have rubbed someone's fur the wrong way for there to be such an all points bulletin on his whereabouts. And the only ones he's tangled with that he's told me of is the Imperials. They're so desperate for information, they'll take it from any source they can get. Heck, it looks like they've tried to bribe every organization from the Assassin's guilds to the Alderaanian Civil Liberties Union!"
"Again, I don't see what's so funny about that. It looks like things could get tight for a while."
"Are you worried that this planet will be found? Forget it. The only planet that's better hid in this galaxy is Domino de Devestator's mythical homeworld. Don't you see? This is just the break we've been looking for."
"Who are 'we' and what are you looking for?"
"The Zuu Shi. We're a peaceful people, but that doesn't mean that we wouldn't like to get back at the Empire for destroying our homeworld. And we do enjoy the occasional practical joke."
Lerma tried to suppress his mirth. "Okay, I can see your still confused.
I'll try to spell it out for you before I get too excited. The Empire wants to know where Tashannoc is."
Lerma paused long enough for BoShek to nod nearly impatiently.
"So? We let them know. There will be Tashannoc sightings from one corner of the Galaxy to the other, never quite overlapping, but making his movements seem almost supernatural.
We'll get a couple of Wookiees to disguise themselves as Tashannoc, Wookiee Jedi
Master. We could even dummy up a couple of freighters to look like the Rolling
Thunder. In other cases, we could just pay folks to lie. Lots of people. That way, when they report the sighting, there will be substantiating evidence, and the Empire will pay them even more!
We're going to make a lot of people quite a bit of money, all at the Empire's expense. And if they decide not to pay, then word gets around to the various guilds and independents that they're trying to buy off, and the Imps will be stuck doing their own dirty work for the next hundred years."
"Okay, what if it isn't the Empire? What if it's some other enemy of Tashannoc's?"
"Same joke, different sucker. It doesn't matter, they're still an enemy getting the shaft. I'll start setting it up as soon as Tashannoc leaves Ord Farlenx."
"You know what, Lerma?" BoShek smiled. "You're right. That is pretty funny."
"I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere. I just had to dig it out."
The latest line off what Bismarck had termed the "Fringe Holonet" was dropped off at his meditation chamber by Captain Grom. The "Fringe Holonet" was not so much a news service, more of a rumor mill that could be accessed if one knew the right people. Bismarck had associates who did. But Grom didn't know that. His concerns were more along the lines of whether or not Bismarck would get mad at the news. Which, as it turned out, he didn't. "This is most interesting. Thank you, Captain."
"Just doing my job, sir. Am I dismissed?"
Bismarck shook his head. "Not yet. Let me finish this first." As he read, his expression went from amusement to resignation. "Oh, dear. Trask old boy, you have blundered big time. Perhaps I should've just asked you to announce to the galaxy that I was looking for info on the good General via the Holonet. Yes, an announcement, a party, perhaps a nice large banner reading 'Bismarck seeks information on Wookiee!'" He groaned.
"What are you talking about, sir?" Captain Grom was getting worried and for Grom, worry was not a good thing. Every time something new appeared on his scopes, he wanted to scream the news all over the main battle bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer Scythe. He'd refrained mostly because he knew it wouldn't help the Admiral. "No one important knows of your existence yet."
"Never assume the enemy does not know something, Captain. Assume they know everything you know and more.
That way, when they don't know something you do, you'll be pleasantly surprised."
Bismarck sighed again. "No, the problem with this announcement is that it declares to the galaxy that
someone wants information on Tashannoc, the Wookiee Jedi Master. If he goes searching for whoever that is, i.e. me, therein lies a risk that he might find me."
Standing, Bismarck handed Grom the datapad. "See if you can't get a
communication line open for me to Admiral Trask... no wait. Someone might trace the call.
Just send him a message saying that I need to meet with him to discuss a suitable... target... for Tashannoc's searches."
Grom nodded, relieved. "Yes, sir. I'll send word to communications right away."
Administrator Riffakak'isinversis paced, or perhaps stalked was more descriptive of the Drepheri way of movement, about his damaged office. His black political robe brushed past his ruined desk and he sighed and adjusted the purple stole around his neck. The bomb damage had been extensive and it would be weeks before the building was repaired to the point where he could use his office again.
"Ista'falla,*" he spoke in his native language. "I would appreciate Ista'falla's presence. I have questions for Ista'falla."
His secretary entered the room. "I am here, Administrator. I will answer Kak'isin's questions."
Kak'isin turned his meter long neck so each of his three eyes could focus upon her. "I am understanding that the caste-phleps still have no word on the attacker?"
"I am knowing of no new developments, Administrator." the secretary said in a voice of hisses and whistles. "I am willing to inquire of the caste-phleps again, if I am requested to."
The Administrator sighed. "I am not making said request. I am merely venting my frustration. I express my apologies."
"I am understanding, Administrator. I will come again, if I am called." Ista'falla started to leave, then turned. "I am knowing of a message sent for the Administrator. I am keeping it on my desk."
The Administrator blinked. "I will read said message." He walked out of the room, pulling his neck into its bargaining position.
In the outer office, Ista'falla handed Kak'isin his message cylinder. "I am knowing that it was encrypted. I am unable to read it."
Kak'isin nodded and keyed his rank into the cylinder. A droid voice began speaking in Drepheri.
"I am wishing to meet with the Administrator Kak'isin of the Green-scale caste-whex of the Drepheri.
I am wishing to discuss recent events. I am in need of clearance to land on the Drepheri planet, as well as a secret meeting place.
I am awaiting the Administrator's reply."
And that was it. No name, no location, nothing. Just a mysterious message spoken by a translator droid and sent, Kak'isin realized, on one of his planet's own communications devices.
Briefly, he considered the pros and cons, then decided he would meet with this individual. It would be enlightening, perhaps.
*Translated from the language of the Drepheri
Tulak, Anzati Guildmaster of the Lohgree Assassins Guild, carefully considered the sum offered by the Imperial spy for information on the Jedi Master Tashannoc.
There would be many false reports -some innocent, some from greed and some the result of countermoves by the Rebel Alliance Intelligence service.
'I cannot permit the guild to be dishonored by claiming the bounty for false reports. We shall take steps to assure that only accurate information shall be provided to our paying client; for information of questionable value, we shall request no fee. The ill-will of the Empire -or rather the loss of their regular business- is not to be lightly garnered.'
'More importantly,' Tulak thought, 'there must be some way arising from this I can sip upon a bright light Jedi.'
He later impressed this logic upon the Master of the Bounty Hunters Guild.
There were a few major crime syndicate bosses who, after serious consultations, did not reach the same conclusion in advance. Being a crimelord is a profession where brawn and pure vicious temperament can earn promotion, whereas to be the master in a guild of assassins requires brains as well as good reflexes and paranoia.
But the universe has ways of impressing its will upon even the most ignorant Draknoid.
"So, Captain McGruder, there has been some Imperial activity here lately and you never know when a Star Destroyer will butt in. If they were to attack in force, how would your ion cannon respond?" asked Jones, dressed as Major Inspa.
The man in charge of the ion cannon thought about it, and answered. "If the Empire throws a Star Destroyer or two into orbit, nobody down here is going to panic. We get our orders from the defense grid by buried land-line. Presumably, the Imperials would have to either try a slow land attack from the other side of the planet to get to us, or blow past the Golans. And blowing past Golan battle stations isn't easy. I expect our targeting would be prioritized against major capital ships attempting to blast the battle stations. Their fighter craft are just plain outclassed and too small for a Planet Defender to track, anyway. My planetary-based cannon has better range than any turbolasers the Imperials are likely to carry, so they really have to count us in."
"If they place an overwhelming ground force down, what then?" asked Jones.
"Well, this isn't Hoth where you can drop a couple of AT-AT's and find an above-ground generator. All of our generators are buried. And we have tanks now. They aren't as heavy as the AT-AT's, but they are more maneuverable and, of course, our crews are more dedicated. Plus, we have a separate shield generator for this ion cannon. But if you ask me where that puts us, this battery costs fully a quarter as much as a full set of planetary shields. It was designed for quick assembly and dismantling. Give me ten days and a bulk transport, and I can get this out of their greedy hands and somewhere more useful," answered Captain McGruder.
"What if you don't even get ten hours. Have you considered what to do, then?" asked Jones.
"Well, not really. This design is pretty old. There isn't any self-destruct mechanism, but the power flow polarity regulators are Model 3's. I suppose we could reverse them to switch the polarity. The reactor unit will blow in a couple of minutes. It's forty feet under the ball mount, but once the reactor goes all that will be left will be a big crater and my best wishes," said McGruder.
"I thought as much. We need to be prepared. Your plan means we have to jury rig an immolation when the Imperials are closing in.
One good shot from a TIE Bomber and there might be no way to get an engineer to the reactor.
Now here's my plan -all I need is your help to pick the best place for the emergency charges," said Jones looking serious.
While he and Captain McGruder were engaged in this extremely helpful discussion, Smith sliced into the security files and altered the data for Major
Inspa's scanner package.
"These training exercises are boring," said Captain Pickles, late of the Kujii System Defense Force. He had been sent to a Rebel Alliance training group to update him on their tactics using more modern equipment. He looked at the holoscan. His small fleet, consisting of 3 Syphan Class Destroyers (real destroyer class vessel -bigger than a gunboat and smaller than a cruiser- not a "Star Destroyer" major capital ship) had been following the program outlined for them in the manual, and the regular Rebel Captain was attempting to restrain himself and not strangle the outsider. Pickles, at age 44, had an extra 16 years of command experience on the Captain, and a yearning to be doing something memorable.
"I've got it! Ensign, post all known listings of Imperial activity on a sector map. We're going to conduct some live-fire exercises."
"You can't take this group into combat, Captain. You are exceeding my orders!" responded the regular Captain.
"As the ranking Captain on this bridge, with a task force consisting of more than one ship, I am entitled by Naval courtesy to the temporary field rank of Commodore. You will please address me as such or confine yourself to the brig. I understand it has room for three, if any of the other members of the bridge would care to further question my authority. Besides, do you want to live forever?" Commodore Pickles responded.
Colonel Fahlwan waited for his troopers to form up and descend the
shuttles boarding ramp. As they preceded him down the ramp he winced
inwardly and vowed to himself to speak with Colonel Seljik about their
sloppiness. If this was the best they could do, some drastic improvement was needed
or thier next campaign was going to be fatal to many of the troopers. As he stepped from the ramp
Grand Vizier Skien Graize stepped forward, flanked by eight members of the Deominian Palace Guard.
Graize held up one hand which seemed to be a signal for his guards to hold their weapons at parade rest.
The Grand Vizier held out his
hand in greeting. "Colonel Fahlwan I've been eagerly awaiting this meeting."
Dez clasped hands and looked the Vizier in the eye. "I expect we
shall both profit greatly from a cooperative agreement, Vizier Skien. As shall your
revered Lord de
Devastator."
'Revered by some, that is,' Dez thought, keeping it to himself.
"You spoke of a meeting place, let's repair there to discuss
the details of our partnership venture."
With the Grand Vizier's guardsmen leading and Colonel Fahlwan's guards bringing up the rear, the two men made their way into a non-descript building. As Colonel Fahlwan and Grand Vizier Skien Graize paced away from the landing field, 'Manticore' squadron formed up and landed near the shuttle to await further orders.
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Two hours after the talking began, Grand Vizier Graize had presented his proposal to Colonel Fahlwan, and it was all Fahlwan could do to resist buying into the idea right then and there. It was that tempting. In the end, his reason overcame his eagerness for profit. "Vizier Graize, I appreciate everything you have shown me today. What I have seen is a model for success, not simply for your Galactastar Corporation, but for every man within my simple organization."
Skien nodded, "You would profit even further in that you would have an equal voice in research and development, as well as an open invitation to sit in the meetings of the Board of Directors." The long-time servant of Domino's court held out his hand as he stood. "You will, no doubt, wish to talk this over with any advisory staff you keep."
"No doubt," Dez replied, clasping the Sith Lord's hand.
Skien smiled, "Then I look forward to hearing your decision very soon. I shall return to my ship as you return to yours, and await word of your answer."
Domino paused as he strode down the corridor. 'Is that....?' he nodded.
'Yes. Singing. The Jedi is singing. Drawn to the Dark Side or left well enough alone, this one has much to show
me. Just as I will certainly show him.'
Domino reached out through the Force and established his presence within Ibran's quarters, then finally, taking a deep breath, engaged his concentration to create a doppleganger of himself in Ibran's bedchamber.
He waited patiently as Ibran continued in song, then shook his head and dropped the doppleganger. 'No, that is not how I wish to tread with this one.'
Ibran stopped his activities at the sound of a knocking on his chamber door.
He stood up and pulled it open himself. "Jedi Crissean," Domino nodded. "I almost hated to interrupt your meditation, but I wish to extend an invitation to dinner."
Ibran only looked at him in response, not sure how to reply. "Rayla and Kyra were impressed by your fortitude and stamina. They did recommend a more effective defense than parrying and dodging.
Perhaps you shun the Dark Side so heavily that you forget that a Jedi can strike out in defense?" The Dark Lord smirked.
"No matter. It is dinner time, and you most certainly know that there is one who will desire your presence there."
"Strike?" Ibran paused. "Or lash?"
The words came unbidden, as the Executor followed the call of the Death Star's gravity. A bad reference, for the
Executor was destroyed by that particular siren's song.
Or perhaps it was a better reference than Ibran suspected.
"I beg your pardon?" Domino paused smoothly in the act of turning to leave.
"Strike?" Ibran repeated in exactly the same way. "Or lash?"
"Perhaps, Jedi Crissean, you would care to explain what you mean?" An ever so slight twist of Domino's upper lip showed Ibran exactly what he thought of the term Jedi. Ibran had no doubt that there was some of that disapproval tainting him, as well.
But he'd started the statement, might as well finish it. "The border," Ibran said stepping back and leaning against the wall. He folded his arms unconsciously and put one foot against the wall for balance. "The border between striking out and lashing out is very narrow. You mentioned earlier that Jedi are able to strike out in defense. I'm still new to the business of being a Jedi, so I'd prefer to err on the side of caution."
"That's as may be," Domino returned. "And it is your prerogative. However, you may eventually find it necessary to strike an opponent for your own protection."
The Dark Lord of the Sith seemed ready and almost eager to engage in such a philosophical debate. Ibran, on the other hand, had nothing to gain by it and possibly a soul to lose to it. "Perhaps," he said, leaning forward off the wall. "Perhaps not. I'll know when and if the time comes. In any case, I believe you mentioned something about dinner, Lord de Devastator?"
"I did indeed. If you will follow me, I will guide you to my table."
Ibran inclined his head. "Thank you, Lord de Devastator. You are most generous.
Lead on." He waved his hand absently at the doorway.
As they walked to the nearest turbolift, Ibran's eyes scanned the hallways.
The only people he saw were the guards at the turbolift. A smile touched Ibran's face as he wondered whether or not only the best guards were selected to keep the Jedi from escaping.
Escape. As much as it galled him to do so, Ibran quashed that thought.
Domino had told him in no uncertain terms that he would not take kindly to escape attempts.
Being the person that he was, Ibran would honor that request, even if it was more of an order.
And perhaps equally as important, Alia's safety was partially on the line.
Ibran considered that as he stepped into the waiting turbolift car behind Domino.
While he didn't believe for a moment that Domino would actually harm Alia the way he had demonstrated with that illusion, Ibran knew -and more importantly Domino knew he knew- that he would not hesitate to put another's safety above his own.
And so he would not try to escape. For Alia.
With an electronic sigh and the cessation of a motor, the turbolift doors opened. "I hope you find the meal ahead to be adequate for your needs," Domino said as they walked down the hall to a pair of double doors.
Ibran smiled that gentle smile that had appeared on his face so often. "I have no doubt that the meal will be as enjoyable as everyone wants it to be, Lord de Devastator."
"And Jedi?" Ibran paused beside one of the doors to look at Domino, his face questioning. "I would appreciate proper manners at dinner."
Ibran nodded. "I know a few things about that, Lord de Devastator." Domino preceding, the two of them entered the room.
MOVE ON NOW TO PART V
RETURN TO THE STAGING AREA
RETURN TO THE BATTLE
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