Dark Plans

Alex Cross against a Star Destroyer!

Ibran was sitting in the third floor pilot's lounge where Thix had told him to wait. Unfortunately for Ibran, he'd forgotten to get some sort of time frame as to how long this could take. He sighed and kept waiting, looking down at a book about the Force he'd had the foresight to bring.

"Ibran Crissean?"
Ibran halted his natural reaction to look up at the mention of his name. Instead he continued to look at his book.
The questioner was not to be put off. "Excuse me? Can you help me?"
'I'll probably regret this...' Ibran thought, looking up. "Yes." It was a statement, not a question.
The questioner was slightly taken aback by this, and it showed on his face... and in his lekku. "I'm looking for someone. His name's Ibran Crissean and you fit his description. Are you him?"
Ibran wouldn't have lied here even he could have. "I am."
"I've been asked to take you to someone. Please follow me." The Twi'lek motioned to him to follow. Ibran stood and fell into step behind the other man, his guard up. At this point, he couldn't tell who could and could not be trusted.

The Twi'lek took him out of the building to the warehouse district. As they walked down the streets, Ibran felt a familiar presence getting closer. He couldn't quite place it until he'd neared the warehouse where it was located. The Twi'lek stepped over and opened the door to the warehouse, motioning for Ibran to enter.

"Thank you, Neb," Ibran said, finally putting two and two together.
"How did you-?"
"Alia."
"Oh." Neb once again indicated the door.

He entered the room and looked about. A quick glance told him that the warehouse was relatively empty, save for a few boxes strewn about the place and a table off to the side. At the table were three people, one of whom Ibran recognized as Thix Barkon wearing an apologetic face. Ibran smiled at Thix, nodded to the man who was wearing a Rebel officer's uniform, and then bowed to the large Wookiee. "My greetings, General Tashannoc. How may I be of service?"

General Tashannoc wurfled, his translator converting the Wookiee's growls and grunts into Basic.  "I see Major Hendrikson was right to report Thix's request to me. Good to see you again, Ibran. I asked Neb to bring you here because - what's wrong?"

A concerned expression was gradually encroaching on Ibran's face. "It's gone!" he exclaimed.

"What's gone?"
"Well... It's like this. I invoked my Force abilities to find the most expedient path to someone called Alia Trynyty." Tashannoc looked as if he'd suspected this. "And when I did, I felt a kind of tugging sensation in my head. There were times when it was weaker than others but it was always there in the back of my thoughts. But now... it's stopped."
"Stopped?"
"Yeah," Ibran said, turning to face Neb, who'd asked the question after locking the door behind them. "Stopped."

"What's that mean?" Neb's face was growing more alarmed.
"It means she's either out of range, I'm being blocking by someone more powerful than I..." Ibran trailed off momentarily.
"Or she's not there to find anymore."

Despite the bad name it has received as a result of the Clone Wars, the cloning process has multiple uses that should not be discounted due to the negative publicity.
Obviously, the immediate uses of the ability to clone organic life are in the field of medicine. Lost or diseased limbs can be re-grown in a cloning tank and re-attached via surgical procedures. Organs are also excellent subjects for this process; the wealthy or injured veteran may pay to get a heart replacement. In most cases, however, the only human body part that cannot be cloned successfully for medical purposes is the brain of a being, or failing that the central nervous receptor (I will still use the term brain because it's easier for me).
The reason for this is that it is this area of an entity that is that entity. In 90% of all cases one can consider, the brain of the being contains all the experiences and knowledge the being has acquired. Without the patterns a brain develops in the course of its' life, it is useless and has the tendency to 'break' under the stress living places on it. The breakage of a mind is rarely a good thing; the most common result is the affliction termed "clone madness."
The only successful attempt to duplicate the patterns that hold the essence of a being is the "flash imprinting" process. Essentially what happens is this: a copy of the brainwave patterns is made electronically from a given subject (generally a live one; the ability to work with dead brains in this respect may or may not have perished with the Clone Masters.). The imprint is then taken from its' computer storage and placed in a complete clone body of the subject.
But I digress. The purpose of this book is to fully explore the military applications of this process. As Grand Admiral Thrawn so successfully showed in his decisive campaign against the so-called "New Republic," clones have their place in the armies of the galaxy. Part of the exploration of the assets of cloning will cover (hopefully) my personal experiences with each tactic presented. For this book is not merely written to be an instructional text. I fully plan to work with each thought presented in my ongoing struggle against the rebel forces. Each tactic will receive a rating, both prior to being used and immediately after I am done with it. The ratings are on a percentage scale for easy readability and are indicative of possible effectiveness and real effectiveness, respectively.
However, even if your field is not military affairs, it is my suggestion that you read this book anyway. It is my personal premise that the only safe people are the ones who know enough to be able to bend circumstance to their advantage, and anything aiding in that should be used.

--Aspiring Admiral Rigel Bismarck (also known as The Undertaker)
Imperial Navy.

Tasha gestured to the seat across from him. "Have a seat please, Ibran."* As they both sat down, Tasha continued, "I'm glad to see that you've recovered since the last time I saw you."

"What do you mean? Oh, right, now I remember. The poison from Fury. Sorry I never got a chance to thank you for that."

"Quite all right. We've all been busy since then. Now, please tell me everything you know about Alia, starting from when you first had an inkling that something was wrong."

Neb stood by quietly as Ibran recounted everything that had happened since Benoah had arrived on the station, up to the point when Tasha had asked to meet with him. "That's all I know, General, uh, Master, uh, sir." He seemed a little unsure of how to address the Wookiee.

"Please, just call me Tasha. Titles get a little weary after a while. If you ever serve under me, General will do, if I'm teaching you, then Master, otherwise, just Tasha." Seeing the man was a bit more relaxed, Tasha handed Ibran a datadisk, then continued. "On that disk is the location of Alphredies, the home planet of the Miraluka. My guess is that Alia is not really in any danger, but has arrived there. They very likely can shield their presence, and their whole planet, very well to have avoided the Emperor's notice. If she is there, then you can set your doubts at rest. If she is not, then there may be more cause for concern. However, know this: there is a man pursuing her who may very well find her wherever she goes. However, he may inadvertently aid her, although his motives are to help himself. I do not know any more. His future is clouded to me, and I do not know the girl well enough to know anything of her."

As Tasha paused, Neb spoke up for the first time. "Okay, then. I'll get a shuttle and we can be on our way."

Ibran was instantly concerned, not certain he wanted to share the journey with the Twi'lek, but Tashannoc spoke up first. "No, Neb. Now is a time when you must train, and study. Trust Ibran, and if he fails, the Force, to bring Alia back safely." He turned to Ibran. "I can offer you little else in the way of aid. If you need transport, I have friends that can provide it, but I think you would rather find your own way. If at any time you need aid, however, my personal com signal is encoded into that card. It will be routed through Lerma to myself.
"Is there anything more you need?"

*Translated from the Wookiee language

Ibran ran down a list in his head. "Hmm... I don't need money, and I'd prefer not to take it anyway... I guess I will sort of need a pilot to take me places. Can I borrow Thix?"

Tasha considered the question, then cast a glance at Major Hendrikson. "Anything you need him for, Lance?"
"Not especially. I think he was just going to go back to Dantooine for guard duty."
Tasha nodded. "Thix? You interested?"
Thix nodded, though somewhat doubtfully. "Would've liked to get back to Dantooine, though. Need to get more training in eventually."

Ibran looked at Thix. "I'm sorry for disrupting your studies, but I wouldn't do it if I didn't need help. If there's anything I can do for you at any time, just let me know."

Thix nodded. "I might take you up on that one."

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean for it to be taken up on."
Ibran considered further. "I guess various provisions and info on things like who we might run into would help. Thix will need some supplies too, but other than that I've got what I need."

Tasha nodded. "I'll see what I can do. You may want to remain here for another hour so that Lerma can get a few items together for you, but beyond that I suggest you don't waste time. And be careful."

Ibran nodded and stood. He walked towards the door, then paused next to Neb and spoke to him in a low voice. "It may not be my fate to bring her back, but I'm expendable for such a search. You're not."

Neb nodded, but frowned. "You're not expendable."

Ibran smiled. "If I believed that, I wouldn't have gone to the Academy."
Neb continued to frown as Ibran walked out the door.

Ibran stopped outside as Thix caught up with him. "So," he asked his newest traveling companion. "Where's this ship of yours?"

Karin DeLumar sat calmly in her command chair on the bridge of her Victory Star Destroyer as the blue faced visage of her commanding officer appeared in holographic form. Many of her bridge crew were still awed at the prestige of serving under one of the greatest military minds the Empire had, but Captain DeLumar knew it was her due.

"Captain," Grand Admiral Thrawn addressed her, "I have a new assignment for you, which should be much more exciting than picket duty. There is an uprising at the colony on Pentarus Two. Normally I would suggest simply blasting the city from orbit, but Intelligence believes that the leaders are important Rebel spies. I want you to infiltrate the insurrection and bring me the ringleaders. Your larger ships can continue picket duty, and you can take a Corvette with some key crew members with you. Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir. You should be hearing from me within a week or two."

"That quickly, eh? You have a very high opinion of your abilities. If you perform your duty well, I may come to share that opinion. Happy hunting, Captain. Thrawn out."

Karin paused for a moment, then turned to a lieutenant. "Have my shuttle prepared, and have Marssica, Limanovetch, and Wi meet me there in fifteen minutes. Tell the NightHawk to prepare for our arrival. Kimmcog will be in command while I am away. If there are any questions they should be directed to the Grand Admiral." Knowing that her people would perform their duties flawlessly, she set about getting what she would need from her cabin.

Rigel was sitting with a datapad busily typing away for his book when the voice of one of his aides broke his train of thought. "Admiral? Priority message on your private channel."
"Thank you," he said examining the man's face. "Lieutenant Howell. Who is it?"

The man looked embarrassed. "I, uh, forgot to ask Admiral."

Rigel's expression went flat. "Report to me later, Lieutenant. I can see I've been lax in my instruction."

Howell's face turned pasty white as he saluted. "Y-yes sir," he said, then hurried out of the room.

#####

A while later, Rigel exited his meditation chamber looking dazed, but thoughtful. "Are you all right, sir?" a passing officer asked.
Rigel instantly recovered his poise. "Yes, I'm quite all right, thank you for asking."
The man nodded and went on his way. Rigel quickly strode to the nearest turbolift and took it to the bridge. Upon stepping off, he turned to the nearest officer and requested a report, then went to his command chair. He sat there for a while, waiting. It didn't take long for word of his presence on the bridge to spread throughout the ship.

"Captain on the bridge," a deck officer announced as Captain Regius arrived. Regius moved to stand next to the Admiral. "Orders, sir?"
Rigel did not look up; instead he steepled his fingers together and stared at them in silence for a while longer.

Eventually, he came around. "Regius, is the Scythe ready for duty?"

Regius concentrated for a moment. "Yes sir. Fully outfitted and repaired. So are three Victory Star Destroyers and two Interdictors. The Carracks..."

"I'm aware of their status. What about the ships we captured?"

"So far, we've only retained 2 MC-90s and 2 MC-80s. They're operative, but not fully repaired. The rest of the ships have been repaired and pulled for duty elsewhere."

"Finish the repairs on them as soon as possible. We need warships."

"May I ask why, sir?"

"Because," Rigel said and lifted his gaze to look at his subordinate, "I've received a message from Grand Admiral Thrawn."

Benoah and Alia stepped from the ship side by side onto the hangar deck of the Imperial Star Destroyer Domen Majesty.  Benoah gestured toward a young woman flanked by two bizarre looking creatures and Alia turned to regard her hostess.  "Benoah, I see you were successful in your task.  Lord de Devastator will be pleased."

"Indeed I have, Rayla.  Why isn't the Dark Lord himself here?"

The assassin proceeded to look Alia up and down as she answered.  "My Lord Domino had urgent business to attend to on Deominia.  He will meet Alia Trynyty there."

Alia shook her head.  "I don't get a say in any of this do I?"

"Relax, daughter of pain."  Rayla said with a grin.  Lord de Devastator may be the acknowledged Dark Lord of the Sith, but he isn't always doing things only for himself."

'Right. I'll buy into that one.'  Alia thought, listening to Domino's right hand.
Rayla continued, apparently oblivious to Alia's thoughts.  Alia truly wasn't sure what to believe as the woman spoke, Benoah nodding at what very well could have been prearranged intervals.  Finally Rayla concluded.

"So you see, Domino has much to gain in keeping you away from your father, giving you the training to never fear Sith Lord Trynyty again.  The truth is, none of us have ever been servants to Lord Domino except through our own choice."  Rayla smiled what seemed to be a genuine smile.  "However, I am certain that he does not expect anything but your verbal gratitude."

Alia nodded, looking from Benoah to Rayla.  "If he gets that.  I won't serve the Dark Side."

"That is not the issue." Benoah said with a laugh.  "Certainly, you will be surrounded by it, but Lord de Devastator considers his adversary's adversary to be a friend.  At least agree to give Domino the audience he seeks with you."

It was a long distance away from any planet to the Victory-Class Star Destroyer Banshee, and an even longer trip to an inhabited one. The vast expanse about the ship seemed to isolate it from the blinking stars about them.  But then, the ship was there for precisely that reason. The Banshee hung in space, waiting as it had been for several days now. Still, there was no sign of the suspected Rebel pickup crew.
And this added to the annoyance of the Star Destroyer's captain, a man named Igin Tharsis. He'd been sent to this desolate region because a number of convoys had been lost out this way. At first, the perpetrators were suspected to be pirate gangs that worked this sector of space, but when a missing piece of sensitive equipment had turned up on a recently captured Rebel transport he'd been ordered to investigate. Indeed, Tharsis had done his job well. The pirates had been surprised with a decoy freighter, allowing him to trace them back to their hideout, where Tharsis had 'persuaded' their leader to send the buyers a message for pickup.
But it wasn't the lack of Rebels that had Tharsis stalking the bridge like a Restevian wildcat.  "I deserve a promotion!" he fumed, wiping a hand over his sweaty brow. "Seven- no, eight years of fine service, and all I have to show for it is a battered Victory. The least they could do is give me a support gunboat!"
Tharsis suddenly looked up at the men in the bridge crew pits. They were all trying to look as busy as possible. None of them really wanted to face the Captain's wrath. Of course, Tharsis was starting to tire from his angry exertions. He was not as fit as he should have been, and had a slightly plump build. He also had fat cheeks and stone gray eyes that bulged when he got angry, just like the vein currently throbbing on his neck.
  But he'd used up a good deal of his anger, so he now lacked the inclination to go find a person to unleash the rest of it on. He kicked his command chair in a futile gesture. The chair, of course, obstinately refused to kick back or even complain of injury which infuriated him even more. He looked about for something else to vent his fury on.

His searching eye caught the figure of his communications officer walking towards him. "Sir? I've got a message for you from Seleneron III. It's an order to report there for convoy duty."

The words sunk in. "Convoy duty," he said slowly.

The lieutenant grinned, mistaking his Captain's mood. "Yes, sir. It is, in fact, convoy duty."

Tharsis' pent up fury exploded. "You!" he bellowed. "You're now head of cargo handling and the current head of cargo handling will assume your duties! Report to him at once!"

The lieutenant's eyes widened. "B-but sir..."

"I will not tolerate insubordination in my crew," Tharsis seethed between clenched teeth. "Is that clear, Lieutenant?"

"Y-yes, sir. One other thing you should know, sir. The order came under Grand Admiral Thrawn's signature."

Tharsis paused. Grand Admiral Thrawn was using him for something? If Thrawn was looking his way this could be his chance to get noticed.  He sat down in his unwounded command chair, somewhat mollified. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You'll return to your original duties after we finish this next assignment." The other man nodded, saluted, and walked quickly off the bridge.
Tharsis sighed. Convoy duty wasn't exactly a high profile job, but with Grand Admiral Thrawn involved, Tharsis' conformance rationales began kicking in. Convoy duty wasn't so bad. Perhaps a promotion could be eked out of this.
Sighing again, he let the last of his anger dissipate and ordered the Banshee into hyperspace for Seleneron III.

Tyne arrived at Kashyyyk just in time to see Thix's ship and Ibran's Force presence leave together. Mentally letting out a stream of cursing, he dragged himself up to the main docking area and waiting room. "Staven!" he called out, running in mock good nature to his cousin and greeting him with an affectionate kiss on the cheek. The girls clustered around him scattered like seeds in a wind and Staven looked especially unhappy when Tyne grinned evilly down at him and threw his bags on the floor. 
"Where's my Skrit, darling?"

Staven blushed a deep crimson and gritted his teeth against striking his cousin. "That's going to get you in trouble, one day, Tyne."

"Hasn't yet, oh distinguished one. Saved you the trouble of chasing them off. Now where's my ship?"
Tyne and Staven could not have been more different. Tyne was small-built, blond, and outgoing, Staven was tall, dark, and sullen. The product of Aunt Darwi's aborted affair with a high-ranking public official on Corellia, Staven was always hearing about how wonderful Tyne was and it grated on his nerves more than anything else could. The only thing the two had in common was the ability to flirt, and they both attained hoards of admirers with ease. Staven stood and stretched languidly. 

"Chasing a girl, huh? What in the heavens would Sheena say to that, Tyne? If you don't want to disgrace the family any more, just go back to the Academy and let a guy who has a chance win."

"You don't understand," Tyne replied, gathering up his articles. They walked toward the docking bay together. "She has an interest and I'm not it. She just needs help."

"That's not the Tynidian I used to know," Staven said, grinning down at his cousin. "What did they do to you in that place? Replace you with a monk?"

"Very funny." Tyne passed his ID through the scanners, gaining access to the garage. "No, I feel the need to do something noble every once in a while. This is just my time." Tyne sauntered over to his beloved ship and patted a bit of it's flank. A small, custom built yacht with more firepower than the average smuggler's freighter, the Starskrit was Tyne's pride and joy. The only reason he let Staven use it was to save face with his family. "Shouldn't you be leaving now, cousin? Aunt Darwi might get worried if you're not home in time for dinner."

Staven grinned back impishly. "Nope, Mother dearest sent me to watch you, Tyne. Nothing need happen to the pet of the Chartise family."

Tyne was taken aback. "But...Stave, there will be blasters! That shoot! I don't think you belong...."

"Where you belong, I belong, Tyne. You'll just have to adapt, won't you?" Tyne bit back another stream of curses. His aunts where really going to ruin his life. "So, Tyne, are we going to get moving? Or are you planning to let that poor, defenseless girl suffer all alone?"

"Where are we going?" Neb asked as they left the conference room. "This isn't the way to the storeroom."

Tashannoc kept moving ahead. "I've done some thinking since our talk with Ibran. I'm not convinced that you wouldn't go racing off in that fighter of yours at the first chance of saving your friend. A noble goal, but one that isn't in your path.  Besides, there's plenty of room to practice in the hold of the Thunder."*

"The-" Neb's eyes bulged. "I can't go anywhere! I have a squadron to command, duties to perform-"

"Skills to learn, patience to gain . . . . . Neb, you've been neglecting your training lately. Understandable, in light of what's been going on, but you need to focus for a while on your skills. Besides, I need help and company where I'm going, and I can't think of a better candidate than yourself."

Neb took a deep breath and calmed down. "Okay. So, where are we going?"

"I'm not sure, yet."

"Then, what are we doing?"

"I have reason to believe that Domino de Devastator has been collecting Sith artifacts. If he decides to make a show of force, we may need some talismans of our own to stop him. I have some clues on where to look from Mirath's writings, but I will definitely need help."

*Translated from the Wookiee language

With her other three men on their assignments, Karin glanced at herself in the mirror. The low cut dress she wore, along with the cosmetic enhancements, should keep interest away from her face, not that it was well known anyway, or recognizable with the framework of platinum blonde hair that perched on her head. While she wasn't a fan of these types of assignments, sometimes it was the best way to get information. The young men who were involved in the insurrection would be more willing to talk if they were thinking with their second brain.

She adjusted herself once more, double checked her makeup, and left the bathroom to go back into the seedy backwoods bar. She only caught a glimpse of the man leaving, but there was instant recognition.  'Where do I know that face from?'

Dalon Marr waited for the fighters response, ready to high tail it out of there if they decided to go offensive. He wouldn't go too far, however. He was going to follow that Star Destroyer wherever it went.

"Damn, I'm nuts." He said softly to himself.

Rek Lavaran stared out the bridge viewport of his flagship the Nova Child. His intended quarry was a YT-1200 freighter that was gun running for the Rebels. He had just ambushed it right before it jumped into hyperspace for some rebel base.

"Sir, it's hailing us and requesting to speak to you. Do you wish to answer?" said his com officer.

"No, I always think it is best to not let your prey know what the are up against"

"Yes sir"

"Is Hunter in position, Lieutenant C'dar?" he said to his TAC officer.

"Yes sir it has successfully blocked the ships way to its destination and is taking no fire form the vessel."

"Good launch the fighters!"

A few seconds after he said the words six A-Wings screamed past the viewport along with two Y-Wings. He saw a few flashes of laser fire and ion cannon blasts. Over the background noise of the bridge he heard from one of the com displays that the freighter had surrendered.
"Is the boarding party prepared on the Rek's Fist C'dar?"

"Yes it is and is awaiting your arrival."

"Thank you" he said as he walked off the bridge.
As he walked to the flight deck he thought to himself for a while. The first question on his mind was why a freighter of some importance would be traveling through deep space without an escort? Just then warning sirens started screaming all over the ship.

##########

Formaja was flying in his A-Wing patrolling the empty space around the little freighter that called itself the Sun Dot when a trio of gunships came out of hyperspace a kick in front of him.  "Nova Child this is Green Four I just got three gunships on my scanners and a visual scan indicates that they are the Rebels. Permission to engage?"

~Permission granted Green Four. Go get 'em.~

Gregor Jarkov had some time on his hands. He enjoyed thinking of one of his life principles in times like this: 'Free time is never lax time.' He had spent the last few Standard days preparing for any offensive action by enemy parties, namely discouraged clients or, more imminent it seemed, the Rebellion's strike forces.
But now, in that short time that is true night on his moon, Jarkov decided to treat himself to a little entertainment. Grabbing up a small remote, he sat down in a plush chair that molded to afford him perfect comfort behind his desk, and lowered a large viewport.
The picture on the screen flickered to life, outlined with the bright green hue of night-vision enhancement. The jungles outside his complex were displayed; leaves swaying in the winds that preceded a storm. They frequented this part of the moon.

Pressing and activating a com unit built into the heavy wood desk, Jarkov spoke. "Release a Death and..." He looked at his prisoner roster. "...that Kloperian, Grr-skish."

Movement could now be detected on the huge screen as a small Gray Death scampered through the underbrush. This was Jarkov's favorite game. It was broadcast all over the base.  He wanted all his employees to know that the following was the price of treason to him. He was more concerned with the game than treason.  He paid all his mercs and scientists very well.

The large Kloperian thrashing blind through the dark, wet jungle was easily spotted by the Gray Death, and a short chase ensued, ending with the unfortunate victim tripping. The small dark shape of the predatory Death virtually flew threw the trees to pounce on the sentient.

'Life was not all hard work,' Jarkov thought to himself. 'No, not at all.'

Tomorrow he would commence the escape drills for his three command ships...  'After all, he who fails and runs away lives to win another day.'

By the time Rek got back to the bridge the battle was already under way. Officers were running everywhere and space was thick with energy bolts. There were now four gunships and a squadron of X-Wings.
"Call in Swift!" he shouted to his com officer.

"Already done"

"Good, now I want a complete battle update on the double!"
It turned out that the first three gunships had been hit hard by the A-Wings and were very low on shields. The X-Wings had taken minimum losses and the gunship that had just arrived was still a long ways out. The Sun Dot had repaired its systems and was heading for the safety of hyperspace.
Just then Swift arrived and Hunter brought its guns to bear on the gunships. By now the trio was nearly destroyed and a few turbolasers hit the engines of the ship in the lead position. It started to drift and was leaking atmosphere.

"Full speed ahead" he said to helm, "And power up the tractor beams. I want to stop the Sun Dot!"

"Yes sir!"

"Have we taken any losses?" he asked C'dar.

"No but flight group three had to pull out because they got something stuck in their derbies extractor."
The Sun Dot was in tractor range just as it jumped into hyperspace.

"All craft break off and rendezvous at a light year away from here" he said, "Get us outa here"
The stars elongated into lines and then they were in hyperspace.

The mottled blue of hyperspace flashed past the window located in the passenger compartment of the small ship headed towards the planet Alphredies. It was a color few people had examined with interest; most pilots saw it as a signal their hyperdrive was still working while the passengers used it to determine whether they had reached their destination yet.
Ibran followed the latter pattern as he watched, staring through the window with unseeing eyes. He had been in too many space flights recently to fully appreciate the view and his muscles longed for activity. But his body's requests were taking a backseat to the thoughts moiling about in his head.

A footstep sounded, bringing Ibran partially back from his pensiveness. He sent his perceptions out to try and gain a feel for who was approaching, but the only other being on the ship was Thix Barkon, the pilot who was accompanying him on his search for Alia. As he watched, Thix entered the room. A somewhat dirty Thix, who was brushing dust from his fingers.
"Looks like something needs cleaning," Ibran smiled, casting off his slightly haunted expression for the moment.

Thix shook his head. "You'd be surprised how much dust can collect on the controls, even when people keep using them." He sighed and flopped down across the table from Ibran in an odd position.

"You look like a statue that someone's chopped up and mixed the limbs around on," Ibran chuckled. That was one of the first things he'd noticed about Thix: almost everything he did was geared to make his audience laugh.

"Great," Thix's face rearranged itself into a blah expression. He pulled himself back together. "So what's up back here? Is it the view the same color as it is from the cockpit?"

"It's absolutely thrilling." Ibran rolled his eyes. "Although I haven't been so much admiring the view as I have thinking," he admitted.

"Oh?" This seemed to catch Thix's interest. "Credit for your thoughts."

A sigh escaped Ibran's lips. "I felt a familiar presence right before we left."

Thix became curious. "I'm guessing this was someone you haven't seen in a while."

"Not quite," Ibran said, shaking his head. "His name's Tynidian Chartise and he goes to the Academy too."

"So you can see him any time you want," Thix nodded.

"Not as if you'd want to." A wry smile crossed Ibran's face. "He's very egotistical and I suspect that someone without patience would have trouble putting up with him."

"I don't see what the problem is," Thix said. "If the guy's a jerk, you should be glad you missed him."

"He's not a jerk, and it's not that. Last time I saw him, he looked sicker than a pink-faced, three legged barve with a bad haircut." Ibran frowned.

"And?" Thix asked, making a prompting gesture with one hand. He stood and walked over to a small refrigeration unit. "Something to drink?"

"What've you got?"

Thix scanned the cupboard. "Fizzyglug, some caf-mixer, water..."

Ibran considered. "I'll have a fizzyglug," he decided.

Thix nodded and pulled out a can of fizzyglug for each of them. He shut the fridge and returned to the table. "So go on," he said, popping open his can and taking a long swig.

"Well, the odds are he's out looking for Alia, same as we are. I'm feel a little guilty for leaving him behind." Ibran took a drink from his own can.

"Why? So we can look worse than pink-faced, three legged barves?"

Ibran shook his head, smiling. "It's because he was ill. I feel like I should've looked after him."

"Well yeah, but when you get cleared for an exit vector, space traffic control expects you to exit. If we'd stuck around it might've caused trouble."

"True. I can't help it, though," Ibran sighed again and sipped his drink. "This isn't half bad," he said, looking appreciatively at the can.

"That's why I drink it," Thix leaned forward. "Look, Ibran. Don't beat yourself up over it. He'll get along just fine."

"You're right," Ibran decided. "So how much longer until we get there?"

A large crack of energy came from the hyperdrive, startling both of them. "We might have some extra time thrown in." Thix emptied his can and left it on the table while he sped to the cockpit. He practically vaulted into the chair and began examining the control panel.
And suddenly it registered on him that he currently had an excellent view of the engines of an Interdictor Cruiser.

Ibran came into the cockpit, fizzyglug in hand and froze when he caught sight of the Imperial ship. "What's that doing here?" he asked, a note of trepidation coming into his voice.

"I don't know, but it's not after us." Thix flicked the hyperdrive cutoff switch and pulled his ship into a tight turn. "The Interdictor's facing the wrong way for it."

"It's still directly in our way, though," Ibran noted. "We'd better jump somewhere safe for a bit."

"Any ideas?" Thix asked, opening the throttle and keying the navicomputer. "Better strap in."

"Well, where are we?" Ibran said, moving towards the copilot's seat.

"Hmmm... edge of the Unixis sector," Thix confirmed.

"Let me concentrate for a moment," Ibran snapped his seatbelt into place and reached out with the Force. He felt a tugging to a place... a dark place... but there was help there. "Myrkr," he said. Thix stared at him. 

"Isn't that the place-" he began.

"Where ysalamiri are, yes. But we still need to go there."

"Okay," Thix said and watched the coordinates scroll up on the navicomputer. "I hope you're right." He pulled on a lever and sent the ship into hyperspace again.

#####

"They're not what we were looking for," Biretta Wairen said, frowning. "Were we able to pull their vector?"

"Yes, ma'am," a bridge officer said. "They're heading for Myrkr."

"Send a message to the Black Belt. Tell Hirokihata of the situation and suggest checking it out. It could be important."

"Yes, ma'am," the officer said.

"Excellent," Biretta crossed her arms in front of her. "Now, we wait for our target."

MOVE ON TO PART III
RETURN TO
THE ARCHIVES

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