MOVE ON NOW TO PART III
The constant smooth sounding hum was soothing to her. Karen twisted in her seat to get more comfortable. She decided she wasn't going to be able to sleep anymore so she yawned, stretched and opened her eyes to look at the other passengers
aboard... 'Aboard what?'
"Oh no, not again." She said softly to herself. This made the second time that she had woken up only to have no idea as to where she was or what she was doing there.
She guessed from the make of the ship that she was on some kind of luxury yacht. There was a uniformed woman coming down the aisle asking people questions.
Karen started to worry that she was asking people for their papers. How would she explain herself?
How would she explain her uniform... She suddenly noticed that she was wearing an
extravagant and obviously very expensive dress. It was low-cut and felt finer than anything she had ever worn before. She realized her blond hair had been done over and looked very stylish.
There was a folder on the seat next to her. The aisles in front and back of her were empty so she decided it must be hers also. She
picked it up and opened it, finding identification with her picture on it and the name of Allison Strong. There was also a
sheet of flimsy that listed a bank account under the false name. The statement at the bottom said she had a little over 50,000 credits. Karen whistled
softly at the amount of money available to her. She wondered what was going on but her memory wouldn't cooperate. Well, at least this was better than waking up and having to fight her way out of here.
"And how are you doing, Miss? Do you need anything?" It was the uniformed woman.
"No, I'm fine thank you." Karen smiled sweetly and the woman kept on going. She almost asked where they were going but decided against it. She didn't want to draw attention to herself and she would find out as soon as they got there. She spent the rest of the trip looking through the information in the folder.
'I can't believe he allowed me to hear all this!' Alia thought, sitting as properly as possible to leave no visible sign of the devious wheels her father had set in motion for a whole different purpose spinning out of control in her mind. 'Everything about subjugating ORD Farlenx and he let me hear it!' Domino looked directly at her and smiled. Alia smiled back outwardly, quaking inside. 'He can't know what I'm thinking. Not with all the other dark forces around. It's working to his disadvantage this time!' The door whisked open and the assassin's prize was thrown into the chamber without ever facing Alia. "Hi everybody." The Sith Lord turned away to look at the captive allowing Alia to do the same. She took one glance and dug her nails into the table top until they bent backward. 'It can't be!'
The prisoner was knocked onto his knees and Alia saw a small trickle of blood fall from his face onto the deck. He glanced up and into her face for a split second but that was all the time she needed. 'Sithspawn! Ibran! How did you manage to get yourself... what in the name of all that's righteous and good were you thinking?!'
"We rarely receive Jedi Knights at our table. Let us make him feel welcome."
Marquis glanced from Alia to Ibran, making some sort of connection. Alia looked up from her friend and right into Domino's fiery gaze. 'Ohno...'
Kyra stood over Ibran, the pleasure of pleasing her Lord evident on her face. Domino looked from Alia to Ibran, then back to Alia once again before turning to address Kyra. "Why Kyra, You have managed to arrange a reunion between two friends." Domino chuckled quietly as he gestured to Alia. "She's not so much like her father. He never had much use for friends, let alone respect or honor."
'It's true,' Alia thought, 'so why is it bothering me to hear him say that?'
"Tell me, daughter of Trynyty, what is..." The door whisked open once again, as the two plain looking men from before entered the room. "We've finished our interrogation of the pirate Lavaran, Lord Domino." Jones announced.
Smith chimed in, "Having learned what we need, we have other mission objectives to meet."
Domino nodded. "Yes, gentlemen, you do have other tasks to perform. You have 48 hours to complete your mission." He smirked, "I trust that will be enough time to do what you must do?"
"Certainly enough," Jones agreed.
Smith added, "Indeed."
"Then you'll fly to Ord Farlenx in a freighter known to be in
the service of the Alliance. When you have achieved your objectives, I have arranged for an old Mu-class Shuttle to be your retrieval vehicle." Domino took the hands of the agents in turn and shook them. "What you men must do, do quickly."
Smith and Jones left the room as Domino whirled on his heels. "Admiral Emago," the admiral stood from his seat. "We are through with Captain Lavaran.
Have him
transferred to the prison facility on Yaga Minor. There he can sit and reflect on
his short and worthless life until the prison administrator can schedule his execution."
Turning slowly, the Dark Lord's eyes fell once again on Alia and Ibran. "Ah yes, where was I?"
An extremely battered Banshee pulled into the repair docks at Seleneron III after limping back on
its backup hyperdrive unit. The battle had made Tharsis hungry, and he would be able to eat in the officer's mess while his ship was repaired.
It was there that he caught sight of a familiar face. "Captain Belgh!" he nearly shouted across the room.
Belgh turned from the conversation he was in. "Well, if it isn't Captain Tharsis. I was worried about you when you didn't show up at the rendezvous point on time, old boy. I presume from the state of the Banshee that you succeeded?"
"Yes," Tharsis growled. "I had to fly by the seat of my pants to keep every Rebel ship there from turning me and my ship into a crispy fried ravelhawk."
"But you succeeded in demolishing the shipyard?" Captain Belgh stepped towards an unoccupied area, motioning for Tharsis to follow.
"No," Tharsis said. "I turned the ship towards the repair dock, but the enemy pulled it out of the way. The proton torpedoes did more damage," he added, scowling. "At least some of them got through."
The other sighed. "Spur of the moment plans don't often work too well. Too many holes." He cocked his head at Tharsis. "I believe you had some questions you wanted answered?"
"Yes," Tharsis said. He suddenly realized what uniform the other was wearing. "I guess I should call you Admiral Belgh, now."
"Admiral Rigel Bismarck, actually." The man in the Admiral's uniform nodded. "And I was an Admiral prior to our first meeting."
Bismarck. The name rang a bell. "You're the one mentioned in our orders! You put those ships in the repair dock in the first place!" he said, snapping his pudgy fingers.
"I am indeed, dear boy," he grinned. "The four MC-90s we captured were damaged in a battle that occurred not long ago at a planet called Sillesk. I was the one who chased the Rebels away."
Tharsis stared at Bismarck. "There's no way you could control a single transport and do that!" he blurted.
Bismarck inclined his head. "That is quite correct. My task force numbers somewhere around twenty ships. Although I haven't checked the new totals I've had since that Sillesk engagement." He frowned. "I ought to do that soon."
Tharsis was duly impressed. "And the cloaked ships were yours, then?"
"They were loaners, mostly," Bismarck said. "I used two captured Star Cruisers and my command Imperial Star Destroyer. The Cruiser weaponry has a distinct energy signature, which I used to confuse the Rebels."
A stray detail clicked into place. "So the Rebels thought their own ships were firing on them." Tharsis said.
"Yes," Bismarck agreed. "They were too self-controlled to start immediately blasting at each other, though. I didn't think they would." He shrugged. "It did, however, force them to investigate the matter and cost them critical moments."
"So the Imperial Star Destroyer was there for the sole purpose of concealing the spacetroopers, who would in turn provide a distraction while we escaped," Tharsis said. "Not a bad plan."
"And a plan with a purpose, Captain Tharsis," Bismarck held up a finger. "This was actually a test set up by some higher ups. Its purpose was to see who was ready for the burden of Admiralty."
Tharsis choked. "I had no idea," he spluttered.
"That, old chap, was the point. But surely you knew all was not as it seemed," Bismarck raised his eyebrows at Tharsis.
"Nothing seemed out of the ordinary to me."
Bismarck shook his head. "You'll recall in our first meeting how I told you about the Imperial Star Destroyer cloaking?"
"Yes," Tharsis said, remembering. "You said that it disappeared when the transport arrived and reappeared once it was out of view."
"And how would I know it reappeared once it was out of view of the transport?" Bismarck said simply.
Tharsis clapped a hand to his forehead. "You wouldn't unless you were on the cloaked ship! How obvious!"
"Obvious in retrospect. I should inform you," Bismarck went on. "That my colleagues and I have discussed the matter and we feel that you showed the most impressive standing given the challenges you faced. You will be recommended for the new position of Admiral along with whoever shows the best standing in the test concocted by the other higher ups."
Higher ups... like Grand Admiral Thrawn? Tharsis salivated at the thought. "Thank you, Admiral," he said. "You've been most forthcoming. There's just one more question I have."
"And that is-" Bismarck made a gesture with one of his hands.
"Where did you come up with the name Le'Onad Belgh?"
Bismarck chuckled. "My existence is a well-kept Imperial secret," he said. "Not that I expect it to remain secret for much longer, of course. I work with ships that have been supposedly destroyed or decommissioned. I also have a record for successfully undertaking the most difficult assignments with older technology. Because of this, my Imperial code name is the Undertaker. In the language of Ermang, the word leonadbelgh means undertaker.'"
Tharsis chuckled. heartily "It was a pleasure working with you Admiral. I hope to have a position similar to yours soon."
"Good day, Captain Tharsis, and good luck on your opportunity for promotion," Bismarck said. The two shook hands and went to join other conversations.
"We're on this Star Destroyer," Ibran said in response to Domino's question. This was, of course, the absolute truth that Ibran was speaking, and he did it quite earnestly.
Someone snickered, then tried to turn it into a cough. Domino didn't look too pleased, but then he didn't look pleased anyway, and there was nothing Ibran could do about that.
Not that he wouldn't have tried, of course.
"I was referring to the conversation," Domino said, slowly and painfully as if he was speaking to someone from a Communications Relay Accounts Department.
"Oh," Ibran said. "Sorry. I think we were discussing how I've been going about the universe looking for Alia and have finally found her in this place that needs the touch of an interior designer quite badly."
Domino's 'I'm-not-thrilled-look' increased. "Ahhh, so you were worried about your friend?"
"Yes, I was. You mind if I give her a hug? I've missed her!" Ibran said brightly.
Alia, meanwhile, was wondering what had happened to Ibran. He seemed... well, a little dumb to be honest. She wondered if the blow to his head had given him some unnoticed injury, and that worried her.
Kyra just sent Domino a glance that said "You see what I've had to deal with on the way here?"
And Domino, when he caught an eddy current of the Force that had brushed by this young man, got a picture of a dark haired girl in his head. 'Ahh... he must have a sister.' Domino thought. 'I will have to probe into that.' But he sensed no danger from Ibran, or any hidden plans for escape. "Very well, Jedi," he said. It would do no harm to appear magnanimous in this young man's eyes.
"Thanks!" Ibran said. He got to his feet and walked over to where she was sitting.
Alia stood up and extended her arms, noting that her fingers trembled as she did so. "I've been worried about you," Ibran murmured in her ear. "Ever met my sister?"
Alia shook her head imperceptibly, knowing that Domino would be aware of everything going on.
Ibran's expression changed to a scowl that said "I'll explain later."
"Thanks, Lord de Devastator!" Ibran said, turning back to Domino. "You're not as bad as I thought! You aren't going to kill me, are you?"
From the moment Ibran had opened his mouth, Alia knew that either he was a lost cause or they both were. Even she had tried to show at least the slightest respect to Domino, if not his minions. It looked like Ibran had tried things the other way around, and that wasn't going to work.
Rayla and Marquis were exchanging smug smiles when she looked up and between them and the Sith Lord, Alia felt terribly, terribly cold. "Yes, I was. You mind if I give her a hug? I've missed her!" Ibran smiled again. Every eye in the room turned her way and she knew that there was no hope of getting away with what she had planned now, they'd think this a botched terrorist attack or something!
"I've been worried about you," Ibran said quietly, sincerely, almost making her believe that he really had intended for everything to go this way. Then he began talking about his sister; that was when Alia knew someone had beat him in the head with something large and blunt.
'Ibran, Ibran. You have no idea how deep you've dug yourself in, do you?'
"Ord Farlenx! That's it!" The Starskrit had almost made it through the atmosphere surrounding Yaga Minor when Tyne had his revelation.
"That's about the third time you've done that. Do you just yell things out and then impulsively follow them or is this a new hobby?"
Tyne ignored Evan's jibe and hastily replotted his course. "That dark cloud? There's a predominate thought seeping out and I just caught the tail end of it. Ord Farlenx is where I need to go."
"But Landau..."
"Let him worry." The numbers came in from the computer.
"But Staven..."
"Frankly I never much cared for Staven. You can keep him." The Starskrit completed it's 180 turn and raced away at sublight.
"But Kethren!"
Tyne's enthusiasm dampened. "What about him?"
"I'm supposed to return in under a week." The object of returning to Kethren only to play games of wheels-in-wheels deception did not appeal to Evan as much as it once had. "Well, Laudau'll think of something."
Tyne grinned. "To Ord Farlenx!"
~I knew that you would want to know, Master Trynyty. We will return when the
epidemic has calmed itself, but not until. Evan will recover totally, I'm sure, as well as the
other men on the ship, but we can't risk infecting those in less than perfect physical health
so we may not return as quickly as predicted. I'm sure your lordship
understands.~
Aswar Landau spoke from a room of the ship's med center with trusted crew members coughing and moaning to the best of their acting abilities behind him. Med droids scurried around, the lack of sickness in the room baffling them as they submitted their charges to scan after scan, all appearing quite normal. Of course, Kethren Trynyty couldn't tell that from light-years away. No, Landau corrected himself, this was his crowning achievement in the field of subterfuge.
After several more penetrating questions, the Sith Lord gave up, extending the time of their patrol by
two weeks. Landau collapsed into a chair, allowing the personnel behind them to congratulate each other on their fine displays of illness.
'Evan, wherever you are, you had better appreciate this.'
The "Alliance" freighter dropped out of hyperspace in the Ord Farlenx system. It looked pretty much like any one of the thousands of similar freighters designed by the major producers - efficient but ugly. Aided by current RRebel codes provided by data reconstructed from the purged files of a recently captured Starcruiser and decrypted on an expedited basis, Smith and Jones were attempting to walk in through the front door at high noon. 'The six P's. Piss poor planning prevents proper performance,' thought Jones. Lord Domino de Devastator had promised them only 48 hours to work with and a lot of that had been spent in hyperspace getting to the Ord. The Sith Lord's generosity was no doubt based on the estimate as to when the last probot would return with attack data on the system.
"Is everybody happy?" said Smith looking at his squad. Exclusive of the three man freighter crew and Special Agents Smith and Jones, there were a total of sixteen agents. Everyone onboard was dressed in a Rebel Alliance uniform, and all but the flight crew had intelligence chevrons. Most of the two squads nodded briefly, looking relaxed, but one or two were still checking their gear and just grunted. The infiltration team had several counter-espionage droids which were disguised to look like the type used by Rebel intelligence. These droids would be used to disable detection devices and anti-espionage programs as well as filter through Alliance intelligence files.
"How come you always get the rank?" asked Jones looking at Smith who was dressed as a full-bird colonel. Jones was in a modestly ill-fitting sergeant's uniform.
"Stop grumbling, it was your turn last time," Smith answered.
"Last time, we were both dressed as civilians," Jones complained. Smith pointedly turned his head away from his partner and looked out the window. Jones looked out over Smith's shoulder. 'It is going to be a lot harder getting out of here than getting in,' they thought simultaneously.
Two X-Wing fighters zoomed from patrol stations to parallel positions aft of the freighter and pinged the freighter's identification transponder. The response seemed to satisfy them. One of their pilots gave a thumbs up to the freighter pilot's compartment as they veered off to their next intercept assignment. "Time to make our appointment," Jones suggested.
#####
"Bleep. Bleep," went the communications screen. Major Inspa, in charge of the Intelligence section at the Ord Farlenx groundside-based Alliance Headquarters, looked up from his desk. The screen flashed a priority header indicating eyes-only, which was fine with him since he was the only one in his office and the door was shut, and indicated that it was from an incoming Alliance freighter. He keyed the respond switch, and a hawk-eyed Colonel stared back at him.
"You will tell no one that I am here. You will meet my freighter at the spaceport immediately. Have transport for two squads, including counter-espionage equipment, standing by. I am not happy, and you should not be happy. Don't keep me waiting," said the Colonel ominously as he signed off. Major Inspa was immediately intimidated, worried and confused. First, he was not expecting anyone, but this did not sound like the kind of situation he would have received advance notice of anyway. To make sure this was not some kind of enemy trick, he checked the message's data section and the most current Alliance Intelligence verification code had been included. He ran a voice stress analyzer on the Colonel's voice, and all of the factual statements checked out as true. So, Major Inspa grabbed his uniform tunic and headed for the motor pool.
#####
Major Inspa checked in with the Port Authority while on his way, and learned which docking bay the freighter was using. He personally drove a staff lift, followed by a team transport driven by a droid from the motorpool. He managed to arrive at the bay before the freighter was completely unloaded, but it was clear from the glare of the Colonel that he was later than demanded. There were eighteen personnel, all from Intelligence, and half a dozen counter-espionage droids, efficiently going about their business of preparing for whatever it was they were here for. It looked to him like two complete sweep teams, and there could be only one reason to bring in outside counter-espionage agents without notifying him. We have a leak, a big one, and I missed it and Sector Command didn't, thought Major Inspa as he moved forward and crisply saluted Colonel - his name tag was there - Colonel Smith.
The Colonel nodded at him, not bothering to salute, and watched as part of his platoon commenced loading the main transport with their gear. A pair saluted the Colonel then walked rapidly towards the Port Authority building, trailed by a counter-espionage droid.
"You are Major Inspa?" finally asked the Colonel.
"Yes, sir. Reporting as ordered," he answered. A sergeant suddenly moved to his side grabbed his right hand and slapped it onto a portable hand scanner, which paused for a millisecond then blinked a green light. The sergeant pulled it away and glanced at the readout. "Confirmed, Colonel," the sergeant said. Major Inspa read his name tag too - Sergeant Jones. Jones melted back to supervising the loading, leaving Inspa and Colonel Smith with a zone of privacy.
"Major, you have at least one Imperial agent on this Ord, probably more, and we are here to sweep your critical systems," said the Colonel. "Here are my orders," he added, thrusting a holochip in Major Inspa's hand. The Major glanced at the encrypted chip, he would have to get back to headquarters to use a decoder. "Read 'em on your own time. This place is completely compromised and I am not here to babysit anyone. In fact, nothing would make me happier than to bust some chops and implement a little field justice. Now here is what is going to happen. First of all, nobody is going to know about our mission until it is too late for them to get away. Nobody, starting with the Port log, which is not exactly secret. My men are fixing that now. You are going to take my team to the monitoring station at headquarters, and we are going to clamp down. Every system, and everyone with any kind of access to the data cores, is going through a loyalty check or program sweep, and that includes your senior officers and your maintenance droids. The only people I trust on this planet are my team, and you, because you are obviously too dumb to be an Imperial spy, and then only for so long as my men are watching you. Is that absolutely clear?" the Colonel said in a serious, deadly tone of voice.
"Yes, sir," said the Major, eyes straightforward and with an incredible sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Put a restrainer on that driver droid, and have Parkinson takeover," he heard Sergeant Jones order in the background along with the sound of troops jumping into the transport.
"Where's the Port Commander?" said the trooper to one of the two guards at the entry to the Port Authority building. The sentry eyed the Intelligence chevrons on the trooper and his companion, noted the counter-espionage droid tagging along, and said "Up the turbolift on the right, down the corridor and second door to the left." The three person unit headed for the lift without so much as a thank you. A few moments later they had reached the office. Inside, was a no-nonsense and very annoyed lady, who had received a comlink warning from her guards. She had stood up behind her desk and was glaring at them.
"This is a busy port. This is my busy port. You ..., " she glared at each of them in turn, " ... are interrupting my schedule. Do I make myself clear?" she barked.
"Yes, ma'am, said one of the troopers as each finished entering through the door and saluted. The droid squeaked in, and the door slid shut. Before the final locking click, one of the troopers had drawn his holstered blaster pistol, and shot her body-center on stun setting.
"Now, that's no way to treat our host," said his companion as he stepped around her desk and placed her under it.
"Sorry. I always wanted to do that when I was married," shrugged the trooper holstering his pistol.
The droid plugged into a socket and inserted in the customs log palm print and other security data for the individuals who had arrived on the freighter, listing them as newly arrived Alliance officers with the ranks on their uniforms. It then fudged the entries to show them as having arrived on varied, but earlier dates. Then it commenced extracting a copy of the Port log and inserting a wonderful little virus, full of all kinds of interesting take-off instructions that would be implemented should an alert go through the system and a query come in about their freighter. The well-considered program also amended the notation showing that a priority Alliance freighter had landed, and substituted a caption that a mere supply freighter, already cleared by customs, had landed. There was a little something in there too about the shuttle that would be coming to get the rest of the team.
"What do we do with her when this is done?" asked the tooper who had stunned her.
"Well, if we can't stuff her into a closet and fuse the lock, we're probably going to have to vape her," said his partner who was in the process of bugging the Commander's office and her computer terminal's link to the central computer. "Hey, don't worry, she's thin. Cut her up right, and I could get her into a coffee cabinet," he continued. The droid withdrew its extension from the socket and chattered at them.
"All done here. Time to get back to the freighter," commented the divorced trooper.
Upon their arrival with the Port log data, the freighter immediately lifted and headed out-system. the log data would be valuable whether or not the rest of the team succeeded.
Major Inspa nervously led the Colonel and the remainder of his counterespionage platoon to the headquarters entrance nearest the motor pool. Two guards at parade rest snapped to attention and saluted him. Jones surreptitiously looked around to see if anyone was watching but saw nobody. Major Inspa put his hand on the embedded scanner plate in the wall. It checked his palm print against those of the list of authorized occupants, confirmed he was an Alliance officer and on the "cleared for entry list," and blinked green. Smith imperceptibly tensed. This was the critical moment. If they had been given time, he would have handled it differently. Now, it all depended on whether his men at the port had done their job timely and how the Alliance treated this Ord. It was possible the entry list was put in one-by-one by the Headquarters' internal security. It was also possible the Major used a monthly holochip packet from sector headquarters as the primary source for cleared individuals. There had been no time to cover the latter possibility for this operation.
"They are with me," said the Major, who thought his job was on the line and had, after all, received a bona-fide high priority Intelligence verification code with their initial message. Each member of the procession in turn placed his hand on the scanner and was cleared as an Alliance military member but indicated as not authorized for entry. Good. He clears each new entrant individually, thought Smith relaxing. The sentries did a quick explosives scan on the repulsorlift equipment lockers, which checked negative, but there was no sense in scanning his team since all of the grunts were quite obviously armed to the teeth. The party trooped forward into the headquarters with military precision, Major Inspa and Colonel Smith leading.
"Major, have your men waiting for us at the monitoring station, off-shift staff included if they are on-premises, but do not draw-down any checkpoints yet. We are going to clear your men first, and have them secure the exits," said Colonel Smith as they trooped forward. The Major spoke into his comlink to his adjutant, and gave the necessary orders. Five minutes, three checkpoints and a turbolift ride later they walked into the security office. Forty security personnel, in pressed dress uniform with regulation side-arms, were arrayed at attention to his left in four lines of ten, making a rectangle. There were two guards outside the door with blaster rifles, two inside, and four personnel staring intently at a matrix of security cam monitors to the right. Three officers stood in front of the lines, and the Major's civilian secretary pretended to input data on a keyboard at her desk. The Colonel trooped in behind the Major, leaving two of his men to double the corridor guard. The Major knew the Colonel would have to be impressed by the fine impromptu turnout, which would have been well-neigh impossible if his men were anything less than top-notch. The door slid closed, and Colonel Smith's men carefully arranged themselves in what looked like a random pattern and started fiddling with the equipment chests.
The Colonel smiled a cold smile. "Nicely done, Major. All here?" he asked. One of the officers up front, a captain, saluted and said, "All security personnel not off-premises or at guard posts present and accounted for, sir," he said holding out a datapad.
One of the Colonel's sergeants, Sergeant Jones, took the datapad and started scrolling through it. He looked up at the Colonel, who looked at the Major and said, "My men need an office to set up their equipment."
"Yes, sir. May I suggest our conference room, sir? We have full communications and networking facilities," responded the Major pointing.
"That will be fine. Do you have a detention facility in your offices?" asked the Colonel.
"Yes, sir. Capacity for twenty, access right through there," answered the Major pointing inwards. "With the Colonel's permission, I will log you into our system now," said the Major. 'Hmm,' thought Smith, 'I don't think we want him taking a close look at our scan packages, or gandering at that holochip which was definitely not a set of super-encrypted orders. There had been no way to forge those. Time to get moving.'
"Fine. Sergeant, you first" said the Colonel as he side-kicked the major in the solar plexus and dropped to the floor.
Six stun grenades soared from the Imperial team and hit the phalanx of Alliance security personnel. A few had been quick enough to draw their weapons, but not faster than the Imperial Intelligence Agents who had opened up with blaster rifles and other weapons of choice taken from their equipment lockers. Before the grenade blasts were through, the two door sentries were collapsing with slashed throats. The secretary and the four beings at the monitors were downed with
flechette needles so as not to risk damaging the security station. Jones had dropped his targets with his eyes closed. The Imperial agents quickly secured the entire facility, moving with incredible efficiency from room-to-room and frying any Rebel droids, but there were no other living personnel. The main entrance opened momentarily and two neat corpses -the ex-sentries- were shoved in. "Whoops," said the other sergeant. "We've got Yavin fever in here!"
Survivors were relieved of their weapons, comlinks and clothes and piled into the brig. They were each shot again on stun to keep them out for sure for the next few hours at least. Imperial espionage droids, in their disguise as Rebel Intelligence droids, immediately commenced their programmed tasks, the first of which was canceling the alarm for the security headquarters and coding in a reactor explosion under the building that included a radiation leak, casualty report and request for priority fire and medical assistance. The droids had also put in a couple of neat viruses, including a pattern of false emergency alarms. Task two was ransacking the headquarters data and downloading station files, but it was obvious - as the team had anticipated - that witthout the proper codes, most of the headquarter's data would be unavailable. Jones had called up the blueprints for the building showing access and security posts, and was memorizing them. Other Imperial agents quickly assumed the monitor seats.
"Can we slice in quickly?" asked Smith of one of the droids, which responded with typical chittering in the negative.
"You heard the man," said Smith to Jones. "Let's go get the computer cores. Squad two, evacuate as we go."
"Gentlebeings, its time to save some lives!" said Jones with gusto as he and squad two donned medivac team garb and pulled breakdown medical lifts from their equipment chests. Meanwhile, squad one began connecting detonators from the lockers with thermal detonators gathered from various pockets. It was less than two minutes from the initial blast, and the security guards in the hall had waved off a number of nearby Alliance personnel who had come to investigate strange sounds. "Go about your business," the security guards said. "This is a security matter, and under control." It was only a matter of time before a senior officer showed up, so they had to get lucky or get moving.
'When the going gets tough, the tough floor it,' thought Smith as he checked the magazine on a concealable flechette pistol.
Tashannoc popped out of hyperspace and met with twenty Disks as planned. He gave them orders to hide out on moons around the planet nearest Ord Farlenx, and await further instructions. Then he made another seven minute hop to the planet itself.
He contacted air traffic control. A Lieutenant appeared on the screen. "Lieutenant, this is General Tashannoc on board the Rolling Thunder. Reqesting permission to
land?*"
~Oh, General. You must be here to back up the Intelligence team here to root out the Imp spies. I'm sure that a Jedi will be of great help. I'll give you a landing berth as close to the compound as
possible.~
The Lieutenant was not adept at reading Wookiee body language, and didn't realize that the General was taken aback.
"Yes, of course. But they didn't know that General Cracken asked me to follow up. Don't tell them that I'm
here." An alarm went off in the background. "What's going on in your HQ
building?"
~It seems to be some sort of reactor problem, but I think the emergency teams have things under
control.~
"Excellent. I'll be there in moments."
'I can't risk contacting the Disks, or General Cracken. I'll just have to play this by ear.'
Tasha got up and slipped on his trenchcoat and belt, clipping the lightstaff into place. He reached out with the Force instinctively, giving himself a
one kilometer diameter sphere of awareness, and walked in to find this Intelligence team.
* Translated from Wookiee
"Just a minute," said one of the Imperial Intelligence officers in squad one. He punched a series of commands into a keyboard, and chuckled. "I have just removed half of the members on the 'approved for admittance' security list to this GHQ, except our guys who I have just given maximum clearance too," he said.
"Fine," responded the sergeant who had rigged the bomb, which consisted of twelve thermal detonators, a proximity fuse and a timed fuse. "O.K. squad one, you have thirty seconds to get out of this office," he growled watching his men and their droids hustle through the only door. When everyone was out and the door closed, the proximity fuse kicked in. Hate to be the guy who opens that door, thought the last agent as they headed for the closest exit. The door to the Intelligence office was left unguarded.
#####
"Make way, make way. Coming through!" shouted Doctor Jones leading a group of medivac personnel and two lift-stretchers. One was already occupied by a casualty. A sheet covered the man, concealing his true purpose and identity.
"Radiation leak," said one of the team to a passerby.
A couple levels deeper into the complex, an internal checkpoint from Internal Security forced the procession to stop. "Hold it, right there, this is the data center, not the reactor core!" said one of the two guards aiming his blaster rifle at Doctor Jones.
"Knew I forgot something," said Doctor Jones as a flurry of flechette shot out from the loaded stretcher to kill the guard who had aimed the rifle. Jones cold-cocked the other one with his steel-case medical bag. Colonel Smith pulled the sheet off of himself and got up from the stretcher.
"Load 'em both," suggested an NCO, after which they headed into the computer room.
Tashannoc strolled confidently toward the section of the building that had the Intelligence office. He should be able to get some more information there. However, he was stopped at the access gate to the corridor.
"Name and business, please." Said the man at the gate.
Tasha reached down to his belt, grabbed his translator and strapped it to his face. "I'm General Tashannoc. I need to meet with the base's intelligence officer.*"
"You're not cleared on the list," the man said after checking a screen. "Wait here, I'll call the Major."
"I don't have time for that. You don't need to call the Major."
"I don't need to call the Major."
"I am cleared to pass."
"You are cleared to pass."
"Now open up the door."
"I'll open up the door."
Minutes later Tasha was in front of the Intelligence office. 'Funny, there
are no guards
here.' He was just about to reach for the pad beside the door to key the entry, when his danger sense flared in his head.
'Then again, maybe I'll hold off on that.' He decided to pound on the door instead.
"Major! Hello! Is anyone in there?"
His senses flared again. Danger. Surprise. Pain. Something was going on nearby.
Tasha pulled his lightstaff and jogged down the hallway, following where he'd sensed the danger. Outside the computer core, he saw minute signs
of a scuffle, but there was no one inside. He heard footsteps up ahead and ran.
What he saw was a medical team, rushing down the hall. "Hold it! Identify
yourselves."
"I'm Doctor Jones, and I could ask the same of you. These men have radiation poisoning, and if I don't treat them soon, they'll die!"
These men were tense, which could just be a reaction to the emergency. Except that Tasha knew that the man talking to him was lying. 'Doctor Jones' almost inconspicuously met the eyes of another man. There was some kind of link between the two.
Tasha ignighted the lightstaff. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that it doesn't pay to lie to a Jedi?" he growled. "Or that it isn't wise to upset a Wookiee?"
Jones smiled easily. "Yeah, well, she must have forgotten those lessons." The men dropped the stretchers, and pulled guns. Jones kept one hand tightly on his metal case, and with the other pulled out a canister. "So long, Wook!" He opened the canister and tossed the contents at the hairy beast in front of him.
Dozens of tiny specks flew through the air and landed on the Wookiee's fur. He raised his lip in a snarl that was visible beneath the translator mask, then barked out a laugh. The black specks all fell lifeless to the floor.
"Fleas." the Wookiee said. "Genetically engineered? I'll admit, it's novel."
"Happy to amuse you." Jones said sardonically. Then turned to the men. "Get him!"
Jones and another man dashed down the hall, while the rest of the men fired. Tasha moved as fast as his reflexes could, deflecting all but one of the blasts, which grazed his side. Supressing that pain on top of the irritation of the flea bites, Tasha pressed into the men's midst. Two had already fallen to deflected blaster bolts, and he quickly made slag out of the remaining blasters. The men showed their dedication to the Empire, drawing vibroblades as they advanced.
"Just surrender!" he bellowed. "I don't want to kill you if I don't have to!"
The intelligence agents were ready to sacrifice all, pressing their suicidal
attack. Tasha made quick work of them, and tried to knock the last one unconscious. A prisoner that could be questioned later would be more valuable than a dead body. Unfortunately, the man seemed to work into Tasha's punch, and his neck snapped.
Tashannoc swore, both at the needless loss of life and the fact that the intel operatives had been able to delay him so well. He dashed full speed down the hall, focusing on the mind of the man calling himself Doctor Jones.
He barreled through another checkpoint, leaving a man yelling "Wait, Wait!" at his back, with no hope of catching up. The Wookiee sprinted out onto the tarmac, and saw the two men nearly to their ship.
It was beyond ready to leave, hovering a few centimeters off the ground, with a ramp extended for the two men.
Knowing that he couldn't catch up, Tasha did the next best thing. He reached out and
wrenched open the metal case with the Force, and the contents went spilling onto the ground.
He heard one of the men swear, something about motherless Jedi, then the two scrabbled on the ground to pick up what they'd been carrying. They'd gotten about half of what was on the ground when they saw Tashannoc closing, and leapt onto the ramp.
"But my SODA was in there!" Tasha heard one man yell plantively.
Sure enough, there were a number of soda cans on the ground, along with some papers and a couple of data cores. Most of what the men had picked up must have been data cores.
Tasha dashed to his ship, but the sensors told him it was a lost cause. The men's ship was almost to hyperspace, and none of the
defenses could get to them in time. Tasha would have to let them go, and get to them another time.
He checked the chronometer. He was late for his meeting with his business associates.
'I'll have to...'
His thoughts were interrupted as an explosion rocked the facility.
* Tashannoc's voice through the electronic translator
Domino's eyes burned as though they would set the room on fire. This upstart Jedi would need a lesson in manners immediately. "I just may kill you if you continue to play this game with me," he said, his voice taking the already cold room down several degrees. "Stop your charade, Jedi. You cannot fool me."
Although there was no sign of fear on Ibran's face, his Force presence seemed to retreat. He bowed in a smooth and controlled manner and when he straightened, his face had lost the 'happy-but-dumb' look it wore. "My sincerest apologies, Lord de Devastator, for attempting to fool you," he said quietly. "Clearly, I should not have done so."
"Yes," Domino said, tempering his anger a bit. "You should not. Now, tell us," Domino's arm made a gesture that took in the room's observers before re-crossing itself, "why you are here."
Ibran gave Domino a nod. "Yes, Lord de Devastator," he said. "I am here because of her." He looked over his shoulder at Alia. His expression softened for a moment, but then he turned back to the waiting Domino. "She left the Jedi Academy hastily some while back. I was worried about her, so I started searching for her. It was the Force that turned my path, leading me to her by bringing me into Kyra's company. I..." Ibran hesitated. Domino's look encouraged Ibran to finish his statement. "I want to protect her, Lord de Devastator," he said. "Even if I have to die doing it."
Domino's expression became one of mirth and he glanced to his servants as if making sure they were watching. "She has no need for your protection," he announced. "There are no threats to her here, in my presence."
Ibran looked uncertain. "That may be true, Lord de Devastator," he said, his eyes shifting in the direction he knew Alia would be in. "But I would... I'd like to remain in her company. Please."
"And I quote, 'There hasn't been a Jedi yet who could muster the force with these babies on him, I'll wager'" said Smith glaring at Jones.
"What do you want from me? I took a chance, I made a mistake, so what. We're fine, we've got half their data cores and their Port logs. Plus, we totaled the main computer for the Ord's headquarters. It's not a bad day."
"I don't care if you have Admiral Ackbar in a can. Do you see my hand?" responded Smith.
"It looks fine, not a scratch on it," answered Jones.
"Right. Perceptive. Now, look closely. What isn't in it? What is usually there but missing now because of your ineptness?" continued Smith.
"What, you're thirsty? This is all about the fizzyglug? Speaking of which, I wondered why that case was so heavy," replied Jones.
"Don't try and change the subject. I am a trained intelligence agent and will not fall for such an obvious ploy. That wasn't just fizzyglug. That was my favorite fizzyglug. Fresh, imported Cormorant Combine Fizzyglug. My sole joy in life, other than serving the Empire, accumulating wealth and a few other things we won't go into. Well, I hope you're happy. I am suffering here."
"Look," said Jones. "I'm sorry. I admit it. I am an insensitive clod. And I'm sorry about the squad we lost to that Wookiee Jedi Master furball. They were good men. Trained agents. They died in a noble cause, protecting this vital data," Jones finished, patting the steel case with the computer cores.
Smith paused to reflect for a moment. "Your sentiments make me ashamed of my thoughtlessness. I'm sorry for that squad also. I'm bloody sorry we used up our remaining explosives on the reactor core or one of them might have had the good sense to shove a thermal detonator down that
Wookiee's throat so we wouldn't have lost my fizzyglug!" barked Smith.
The Mu-class shuttle they were riding came out of hyperspace at the designated
rendezvous point. A Strike-class medium star cruiser with an escort of TIE Defenders awaited them. This particular type of cruiser has modular design, permitting easy modification for specialized missions. And this particular cruiser had a state-of-the-art decryption facility. The computer cores were analyzed and decoded rapidly. Their data was then transmitted by holonet to Admiral Kanaris and Lord Domino de Devastator's attack force (en route), the Port logs having previously been distributed.
"It's a decent ship," Jones said to Smith as the glanced at the data as it streamed through the analysis equipment.
Smith nodded. "Yes, a fine vessel. Except for one thing. THERE IS NO FIZZYGLUG ON THIS STRIKE CRUISER!"
"Report."
"Yes, Admiral," Silvan Regius, Captain of the Imperial Star Destroyer Scythe handed over the datapad he'd been holding.
Rigel Bismarck took it, but did not read it right away. Instead he continued to stare out the
main viewport on the bridge, thinking, thinking. But then, abruptly, he swung the datapad in front of his face and began to read. "Ahh," Rigel smiled. "Hirokihata's travels were somewhat interesting, I see."
He scanned the report. He raised his head and looked at the viewport... then frowned. He re-scanned the report. "Two visits to Drepherous IV in the past few weeks?
That is much too big a coincidence to be ignored."
He spun on his heel to face Regius. "Has Intelligence finished with those captured Cruisers yet?"
"Yes, Admiral," Regius nodded. "The slicers finished their work on the data stores a few minutes ago."
Rigel nodded, but thoughtfully. Something had occurred to him. He strode to the turbolift, his boots echoing on the metal decking. "Come with me, Regius. Have Yevest and Havoch meet me in the officer's lounge."
#####
Rigel could hear the voice of the Intelligence's slicer as he entered the lounge area. He spotted the other man and his partner, who in turn spotted him... and shut up. The slicer casually nudged a briefcase behind his chair, but Rigel had already seen it.
"I take it your work is finished here?" Rigel asked coldly.
"Yes, Admiral. You have been most cooperative with us. We'll send our findings on to Imperial High Command shortly."
"I want it," Rigel said.
"Excuse me?" the slicer asked.
"The information you've managed to retrieve from those Cruisers. I want it."
"I'm sure if you put in a request to the Ubiqtorate," the slicer started in a placating tone.
"It will be answered months after I need it," Rigel finished. "I'm looking for something specific. Now hand over the information." His eyes flickered briefly over to Grimo Yevest and Uniani Havoch, who'd just entered the room from the other door. Rigel's eyes darted between the two pilots and the slicer in front of him. They must have understood, for them moved quietly over behind the slicers.
"Is that so?" the slicer was saying. "Perhaps if you'd share it with me, I might know if what you're looking for exists."
"Perhaps if you'd give me that briefcase, these men won't be inclined to shoot you," Rigel said. Uniani and Grimo both had blasters against the slicers' backs.
Both men froze for a moment, then the one who'd done all the talking casually kicked the briefcase over to Rigel. "You might be reprimanded for this, Admiral," he said. "Possibly worse."
Rigel picked up the briefcase. "Not if I find what I'm looking for," he smiled. "The briefcase will be returned to you in about an hour. Have a nice day."
On Skip 4, there is a small bar, one of the only prosperous legal establishments left on the small corner of what is still referred to as Smuggler's Run. The owner is a smuggler herself, actually, and usually leaves the bar in care of her closest confident and adoptive brother, Malkyte, who is known affectionately as Ky in the smuggling circles. He is a Togorian. Adrianna Centure is not a human who will put up with xenophobes.
Rae, as she is known around the Run, will not put up with much behavior many people take
for granted. Especially not Imperials. She has her reasons, but the most prominent one being buried somewhere deep in her subconscious--her father, the man who broke up
her family. As far as Rae knows, she never had biological parents...and she prefers it
that way.
On this particular day, she was running her tapcaf, Shadow's End, and watching the door. Somehow she knew that the next person to enter would soon change her happy life.
He was tall, well built, and wearing a pseudo-imperial uniform, something she found slightly upsetting. He held his head high, though, and ordered a Corellian brandy easily enough. It was when he began to talk he upset her.
"Adrianna Centure?"
She nodded, busying her hands beneath the bar. "Yeah. Just call me Rae if you don't want to draw attention to yourself."
"Fine, Rae." He winced. "My name is Aswar Landau, I'm looking for you on behalf of your brother."
Rae's face creased worriedly and she motioned for Ky, leaning closely to Landau. "Why? Where's Wes? What's wrong?"
Landau took another sip of his alcohol and shook his head. "No, as far as I know Wesley Centure is fine. Your older brother, Evan."
"Evan," her eyes glazed over for a moment and Ky growled threateningly, bringing her back to reality in a matter of moments. "Look, I don't know who you are, but I'm gonna ask you to leave now before I have Ky throw you out, understood? I have one brother and his name is Wesley. I hope you find this Evan guy's sister, but I'm not it."
"No, you don't understand! You remember, don't you? Your real name is Adrianna Trynyty, you have a brother Evan and a sister Siona and-"
The hand that had been under the bar arose with a blaster leveled at Landau's heart. "My name is Rae Centure and my parents are Caamasi. I'm not who you're looking for."
Ky coiled his powerful legs and launched himself over the bar, knocking Landau off the stool and back onto the floor of the bar. Most patrons stood quickly, blasters drawn -they liked the Imperials even less than Rae did and it was her bar. Some of the more drunk ones even began laying down bets- 20-1 in favor of Ky, who straddled his opponent, his muzzle complete with 2 inch long teeth pressed against Landau's face.
"Ky thinks Aswar Landau needs to leave at once and leave Adri alone. Ky will talk to Aswar Landau, but Aswar Landau must leave first."
He sat back, allowing Landau to scramble up, trying to recover what little dignity he had left. The officer glanced back at Adrianna, who had retreated to another corner of the bar, eyeing him hatefully. The Togorian stood beside him, taking his arm and led him from the bar.
#####
As soon as they were out of earshot, the Togorian dropped his hunter accent in favor of perfect basic. "What do you think you are doing?" he hissed, shaking Landau's arm. "Who sent you, Kethren Trynyty? If that is the case, I would advise you to leave now and never show your face where I have a clear view to rip it off again."
The Imperial's gut twisted unpleasantly, knowing that the Togorian would do just as he threatened. "No, Evan Mynoram, her older brother is trying to find Wesley and her. He is still allied with Kethren but in reality is trying to break away from his father since Siona, the youngest, died."
Ky loosened his death grip. "I am sorry. Siona was the one born with Jedi powers? The one Kethren wanted?"
"Yes. She was recaptured by Kethren several times, but died while in custody of Domino de Devestator, one of Kethren's many enemies. Wait, how is it you know this and Adrianna doesn't?"
"Sylvan Trynyty's Caamasi midwife Lathi and her husband have employed my mother as an assistant for several years before Wesley and Adrianna were brought to live with them. My mother died shortly thereafter and left me with them so it seemed more natural to tell them I was another adoptive child rather than explain the complicated rules humans insist on living by. Wesley is playing love-toy to the heir of White Nova Line fortunes."
Landau looked at him quizzically.
"The girl, Sheena Inverse. No one knows she holds 1/3 of the stocks. I stayed with Adrianna who divides her time between her tapcaf and her smuggling. They are doing better for themselves than we
ever expected, considering. Evan?"
"Didn't make it out in time. He was raised by Kethren but only recently discovered the family link. He turned out much better than he could have, but he's still relatively neurotic and obsessive. And Siona is of course dead."
Ky lowered his head. "For that, I am truly sorry. Trynyty sacrificed 3 children and his wife for one daughter who hated him from birth."
Landau shrugged. "A pity for the children. Siona had a chance with the Rebels before, but when Kethren came looking for her
again she ran straight to de Devestator. Stupidity on her part, I'm sure."
"I'm sure," Ky sighed, and glanced around him at the nearly empty spaceport. "Still, I must ask that you stay away from Adrianna. Wesley is free of any memories of Kethren or Sylvan or any of you. Adri can remember although she chooses not to. We, her parents and I, feel that it is better for her well-being if she never were to know the truth. I'm sure you understand."
Landau prodded the durasteel with the toe of his boot. "I do. I'm not sure Evan will though."
"Make him understand, Captain. I am begging that Evan leave these two children alone for the sake of all that he wishes to regain."
"He holds the two of them on a pedestal, Siona even higher. Now that she is dead and they wish to be left alone, what am I to tell him?"
"The truth. Kethren Trynyty has built his life on a scaffolding of lies, Evan need not be there when it collapses from under him."
MOVE ON NOW TO PART III
RETURN TO THE STAGING AREA
RETURN TO THE BATTLE
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