Star Wars: Echoes of the Fall
			by Kevin Blades

                            Part 1
 Author's Note:

	I am pleased to submit this, my first contribution to the Star
Wars universe.
	I must note that in what follows, there will undoubtedly be
many discrepancies with recently written Star Wars material.  While I
have great respect for the works of Timothy Zahn, Kevin Anderson,
Kathy Tyers and the rest, George Lucas himself has stated that the
only canon material is in the films and novelizations of the films.  I
have used some material from post-Lucas work, but only in fleeting
references.
	This story takes place 60 years after the events in Return of
the Jedi.  I have, to the best of my ability, made it possible to
reconcile this story with post-Lucas work; but if the reader comes
across something that is at odds with events in the newer novels or
comics, I ask for tolerance.  Admittedly this is my unique vision of
the Star Wars universe, and it will certainly not be to all fan's
taste.
	With this story, I am attempting to introduce a kind of "Star
Wars for adults" literature.  My accent will be on character
development rather than action; though rest assured there will be no
lack of blaster fire!  I have endeavored to explore broader horizons
than the Luke-Han-Leia triad--to introduce new paradigms to the
endless possibilities that exist in our favorite galaxy.

					      -Kevin Blades, 1995

       A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

		     Introduction

Much time has passed since the collapse of the GALACTIC EMPIRE.  After
several attempts to recapture it's former glory, the Empire has fallen
into a pitiable state, reduced to nothing but a band of marauding
terrorists.  The NEW REPUBLIC, under the command of elderly Jedi
Knight Leia Organa Solo, continues to establish it's galactic
government.  The death of her husband Han Solo has left her totally
absorbed in matters of state.  With Luke Skywalker absorbed into the
Force and Leia involved with politics, the JEDI ACADEMY came to a
halt.  Disillusioned, the remaining Jedi left the Core Worlds to form
a Monastery in the Outer Rim.  Leia's children Jacen, Jaina, and
Anakin went with these Jedi, and plan one day to return.

Little does Leia know that there is a rising resentment against the
New Republic, mostly coming from within the ranks of the Republic
itself.  A band of freedom-fighters, refusing to accept the
establishment of yet another all-encompassing government, have
collected secretly together.  Unsure of their goals, they form the
didactic faction of a new anarchist subculture.

The SMUGGLERS COALITION has disbanded, pressed into disillusion by the
Mon Calamari.  Ever since, the Calamari have launched an energetic
attack on organized crime, which Leia Organa Solo has failed to
stop. Despite the efforts of the Calamari, smuggling continues to be a
lucrative, albeit increasingly dangerous occupation in many regions of
the galaxy.  The great crime lords have become few, those that are
left being small local criminals who have managed to escape the
attention of the Republic...

			  CHAPTER 1

	The panorama of stars in open space stood silent and cold as
they burned in their eternal cycles of birth, death, rebirth.  Spewing
dust and gas as well as heat and light into the void, those ancient
sentinels stood watch over events marked by millennia, not years.
	A small freighter cruised easily through the vacuum of
speckled black.  It's ion engines were only at half power, but it's
speed was impressive by sublight standards.  Speed was probably the
only impressive thing about the craft, it's hull pock marked and
streaked with black carbon scoring.  Of a Ghtroc model, it's flat
unassuming hull, shaped somewhat like a giant sleeping toad, was
primarily designed for cargo transport, not creature comforts.
	Inside, it's single organic occupant stirred restlessly in his
cramped sleeping hammock.  In his early twenty's, Ryallt Tamorr placed
a hand on the metal wall within the cubby-hole that his hammock was
strung in.  The wall seemed to melt inward, oozing between his
fingers.  He gave a little push that sent the hammock swaying very
slightly.  Ryallt looked dizzily over the edge, watching the
honeycombed floor zoom back and forth under him.  He gave a little
chuckle.
	Something beeped behind him and he nearly fell off the
precariously strung net.  Realizing what the sound was and gaining his
composure, he reached up and flipped a switch behind his head.  It was
an old push button switch, not the nice touch-pads modern ships had.
Oh, how he wished he had a touch-pad right now.
	"Ryallt?" came a tinny electronic voice from the speaker
behind his head.
	Ryallt jumped again, and remembered the summons.
	"Ya?" he said to the air, not sure where to look.
	"Are you ready to go to lightspeed yet?" came the voice.
	Ryallt's mood suddenly plunged into his navel.
	"Oh... do we have to?" he asked.
	"I'm afraid so. Uncle won't like it very much if we're late.
I mean, if we're later than we already are." the voice advised.
	"Uncle can kiss a gundark's armpit." mumbled Ryallt, rubbing
his left eye and savoring the sensation.
	"Ryallt..." the voice lowered in pitch.
	"Oh, all right.  I'll be right there." he relinquished, his
eyes rolling back in his head sleepily.

	The droid that sat at the control panel of the confining
cockpit looked as if it had been pieced together from parts of many
different droids.  This appearance was due to the fact that the droid
had indeed been pieced together from parts of many different droids.
It's silver head with insectoid eyes and stubby snout was the only
part of the mechanical that seemed unaltered.  The head sat atop a
body that looked as if one had taken a protocol droid, blew it up, and
fused the pieces together randomly.  One arm was clearly from a
medical droid, it's spindly claw capable of amazing dexterity, while
the other arm seemed to be from an industrial unit, strong and
utilitarian.  The predominant color was a bland slate grey, with
patches of silver and black.
	A noise from behind him made the droid turn it's head for a
moment, servos whining a little louder than they should.  Seeing
Ryallt enter the cockpit, the droid reached to it's right and swung
the copilot's chair around.  Ryallt stumbled about for a moment,
eventually falling into the seat.
	"You're up again." the droid observed with obvious
displeasure.
	Ryallt's eyes widened at the starscape visible outside the
truncated cone of the cockpit.
	"Up?  I've forgot what 'up' means.  I'm just ripped." he
commented to his mechanical companion.
	"You know, one of these days your luck is going to run out and
you're going to get hooked on that stuff.  Ryll's no game." said the
droid in passionless tones.  If he could have frowned, he would have.
	"When it starts getting in the way of my piloting, then I'll
quit."  said the boy, staring blankly at the vista of open space.
	"The only time you take the controls is when we're in- system!
The boring stuff you leave to me." smirked the droid.
	"Well I didn't build you for your scintillating conversation
bughead!" slobbered Ryallt gazing woozily at the metal figure.
	"Hrumph.  I suppose you'll want me to humble myself at your
feet now?" quipped the droid sarcastically, looking straight at
Ryallt.
	A moment of tense silence passed between the two.  Suddenly
the moment was broken by the two bursting into a fit of hearty
laughter.  Ryallt pushed the droid's silver head affectionately.
	"Nin old pal, you're one in a million." said Ryallt with a
crooked smile.
	Nin looked down at his body.
        "One in several million it would appear."  chuckled the droid.
	"Let's get the hell out of this pile of nothing."  said Ryallt
as he punched some data in and pulled the hyperdrive switch.
	The ship disappeared into the night sky, leaving the stars to
keep their silent vigil.

			  *   *   *

	The nose of the X-wing came dangerously close to scraping the
surface of the Imperial Star Destroyer.
	"Watch your vector Grey Six, you're going to end up a chunk of
ice flying like that!"  said Wedge Antilles as he and his squad flew
at a dizzying speed past a peppering of blaster fire.
	"Sorry General.  I have a loose coupling." came the reply from
the wobbling starfighter.
	"Try to compensate but keep your eyes open Grey Six; we've got
company at oh-six-three." Wedge said glancing at his display.  Five
red points appeared on his scanners, emerging from the Star Destroyer.
	"Grey Two and Three follow me, Four and Five cut at ninety
degrees.  Grey Six, get back to the frigate." ordered Wedge.
	The various pilots signaled their acknowledgment as the group
of six X-wings split.  The group led by Wedge spun around the nose of
the Destroyer, executing three perfect barrel rolls to align
themselves with the bridge of the huge ship.  Three of the approaching
TIE fighters followed this group, while the other two TIEs split and
followed Grey Four and Five as they veered away from the Destroyer.
Grey Six peeled away form the battle, heading towards the Republic
Nebulon Frigate far in the distance.
	"Grey Three to Grey Leader, we can't avoid this kind of
firepower for long!" snarled the young voice as a volley of laser fire
poured towards the fighters from the forward guns of the Destroyer.
	"Hold tight Grey Three, and get as close as you can to the
right shield generator."  ordered Wedge as he skillfully dodged the
exploding flack.  "Grey Four and Five, go around point two and
rendezvous with me on their aft side."
	"Copy that Grey Leader."
	The two X-wings spun around, their TIE pursuers in close rank.
Grey Four and Five made for the back end of the Star Destroyer, flying
up and to the left to meet Wedge's group.
	"Grey group, on my mark open fire on that shield generator,
full power!" ordered Wedge.
	"Now!" he barked.
	All five X-wings fired a brilliant display at the spherical
generator poised on top of the destroyer.
	"Pull out, now!" yelled Wedge over the sound of the rupturing
generator.
	All five X-wings veered sharply away from the massive
explosion, almost colliding with each other.  Three of the perusing
TIE fighters were not quick enough to react, and were caught in the
fireball from the burning generator.
	"Yeeehaw!  That was great!" yelled Grey Five in an oddly alien
voice.
	"Hold it down Grey Five, we've still got two more on our
tail." reprimanded Wedge.  "Split up and try to take them out. "
	The five X-wings separated, each in a different direction.
	"I've got him." said Grey Three as he arced around to follow
the TIE that pursued Grey Five.
	Blaster fire from the X-wing made quick work of the little
TIE, ripping it apart it as it's oxygen flared in all directions.
	The last remaining TIE suddenly changed course, heading away
from the fray.
	"Get on him." ordered Wedge.
	The five X-wings regrouped and began to chase the TIE.
	"Where's he going?  He's not going back to the Destroyer."
observed Grey Two.
	"He's heading for Grey Six!" gasped an astonished female
voice, Grey Four.
	Wedge checked his sensors and confirmed what Grey Four had
observed.
	"Grey Six, why are you still in the area?" asked Wedge, "I
told you to get back to base ship."
	"It's that coupling sir... it's draining power from my
engines!" reported a nervous Grey Six.
	"Can't you compensate?" asked Grey Three.
	"Negative.  The bypass isn't responding!" yelled Grey Six.
	Suddenly the TIE fighter opened fire, hitting his mark cleanly
in the engine.
	"I'm hit!" screamed Grey Six just before his ship exploded.
	"Okay, hold it." said Wedge, flipping a control.  Instantly
the image outside the cockpit froze and faded to a dull grey.
	Six rounded metal pods, each four square meters, opened
simultaneously.  The people that sat within them looked up, startled.
They began to climb out of the simulators, each dressed in
standard-issue flight suits.
	"We should have seen that coming." said the young woman
designated as Grey Four.
	"It wasn't fair!" protested a young man, Grey Six.  "I didn't
have a chance!"
	"You should have said something about your power drain when it
happened."  advised Wedge, looking the boy straight in the eyes.
	The boy looked sheepishly at the General.
	"I thought it wasn't a big deal.  The drain wasn't that bad,
and I was still getting away from that Destroyer." he shrugged,
looking at the ground.
	"Any malfunction in your system should be reported
immediately.  You have to learn to depend on your squad more.  We're a
unit out there.  We all take care of each other." said Antilles.
	"Yes sir." said the boy.
	Wedge patted him on the back.
	"Next time.  And next time will be in four hours." he
announced to the group.
	Several of the group groaned audibly.
	"But right now let's get something to eat." smiled the General
as he led the group from the simulation chamber.

	The bulk of the Mon Calamari cruiser hung silently in
synchronous orbit with the planet.  Calamari had become the homeworld
of the Republic, Coruscant being abandoned after a serious
environmental shift occurred during the rebuilding phase of that
planet's development.  This particular cruiser, the Mothma 1, was on a
mission that made General Wedge Antilles rather uncomfortable.
	Upon waking three days prior, Wedge received a personal
communiqué from State Head Organa Solo herself.  Wedge was to
complete his routine pilot training, take a team and a Corellian
Corvette, and proceed to the Devoaak system.  Smuggling operations had
been reported there, possibly tied to activities on Corellia.
	"I don't like it any more than you do General." said the
grey-haired and stern image of Leia Organa Solo through the holonet
receiver in Wedge's quarters, "but we have no choice.  The Mon
Calamari in the Senate have voted unanimously to undertake this
mission and I cannot veto it."
	Wedge rested his head in his hands and looked hard at the
image of the elderly woman.
	"Leia, we've been in this long enough to know how things work.
There's no strings you can pull?" he asked.
	"I'm afraid not General.  How would it look if the Head of the
Republic seemed to be balking her own government's attempts to fight
crime?" she said raising an eyebrow.
	"Oh come on!" huffed Wedge standing up suddenly.  He winced a
little from the pain in his right leg.  "These smugglers are nobody!
Your own dead husband was a smuggler!  The Calamari are sending an
entire cruiser and a General to take out a bunch of small-timers!"
	"If you'll please calm down General," said the image of Leia,
her face impassive and cold, "this is not an attack.  You have been
selected for this mission because you will blend in perfectly with the
targets.  We want information, that's all.  You are to select a team
and infiltrate the operation.  We believe they may be connected to
something bigger."
	"I'll blend in," mumbled Wedge to the wall, "because I'm
Corellian."
	"That's correct General." said Leia.
	Wedge was startled, having thought Leia could not hear him.
He had to remind himself that she was a Jedi.
	"President, you're asking me to betray my own people."  he
said finally.
	"General, I'm asking you to follow out the orders of the
Senate and gather intelligence on a criminal operation.  If you feel
you cannot perform this mission successfully the Senate will find
someone else." Leia said flatly.
	Wedge couldn't believe his ears.  Over the past few decades
Leia's manner had subtly changed as her responsibilities to the
Republic become more intense.  Despite her Jedi stature, he saw her
become an ineffectual party-liner, constantly buckling under the ever
increasing pressure of the Mon Calamari.  He remembered the days when
she was a feisty rebel, more like a commando than a diplomat.  He
suspected the death of Han and estranging of her children effected her
more than she ever let on.
	"I shall attempt to carry out my orders to the best of my
abilities." Wedge said, coming to stiff attention before the hologram.
	"Very good General.  I shall transmit your briefing documents
to you in one hour." Leia said as her hologram flickered and faded
out.
	"I'm getting too old for this." said Wedge to the ceiling as
he rubbed his right leg.

			 *  *  *

	Ryallt adjusted his blaster holster so it would just be
concealed by the long trench coat he habitually wore.  Brushing back
his longish hair with his hands, he secured it in back with a leather
strap.
	"Yes you're beautiful," remarked Nin as he hoisted another
large container past Ryallt and down the ship's gangplank, "Now if you
wouldn't mind giving me a hand?"
	"Oh of course sir!  How selfish of me to expect a droid to do
an organics' work!" retorted Ryallt.  Nevertheless he proceeded to the
cargo hold and grabbed the nearest crate.
	As he walked down the gangplank, the smell of the place made
his already black mood darker.  It was a wet, concrete-like smell.
Mildew and wet stone.  He gazed up at the grey sky that had nothing
interesting in it.  He gazed down at the rocky landscape, treacherous
and dark.  Huge misshapen obelisks and mesas populated the place,
bearing down on the small freighter and closing it in.  This place of
no green, of caverns and dripping stalagmites, like a huge deformed
crystal of dirt.  Kolaador had fallen victim to a horrid plague twenty
years prior, that destroyed nearly seventy-five percent of all life on
the planet.  The Republic managed to evacuate the remaining
population, but had to resort to inagurating a fire- clensing of the
small planet.  The stones still were covered with a fine film of black
carbon from the fires that ended two decades ago.  The climate was
cold and uninviting, as large amounts of ash still hung in the upper
atmosphere.  If it weren't for the volcanic activity that warmed the
extremely dense world, the place would be a giant ice ball.  Even
though the plague was completely destroyed by the fire-clensing, no
one ever returned to Kolaador.  It was an abondoned place, heavy with
memories of the wave of death that swept over it.  Either out of
superstition or disillision, people simply stayed away.
	"Soft." said Ryallt to himself.
	"Huh?" came the sharp voice of Nin from behind him.
	"There's nothing soft here." Ryallt said, his gaze fixed on
the horizon.
	"You still on that junk?" queried Nin.
	"Nah.  That wore off hours ago.  It's just this place is
depressing."
	"The humidity is a little hard on my circuitry." said Nin,
attempting to relate to Ryallt's comment
	"It's the whole thing.  There's no life or anything.  It's one
big wet rock." frowned Ryallt.
	"Actually there are some rather interesting forms of bacteria
that live off calcium deposits, the only forms of life to survive the
fires..." said Nin, stopping short under Ryallt's disapproving gaze,
"...but I suppose it isn't very cheery."
	In silence the two completed their work, piling cargo crates
in a stack just outside the ship's ramp.
	"That does it." said Ryallt, brushing dust from his hands.
	"Now what?" asked Nin, "Do we just leave it here?"
	"That's what Uncle said.  Apparently our customers are rather
shy.  That's why we had to drop off here." shrugged Ryallt.  "I just
want to get out of here and go home."
	As the two boarded their ship, they were watched by
electronically enhanced eyes encased in gleaming white armor.

		       *  *  *

	"So we're going after more smugglers huh?" said the
fresh-faced pilot, Lamrin to his comrades around the white plastiform
table in the ship's mess hall.
	"I wonder how the General feels about all this?" asked Cori,
the young woman sitting next to him, still in her orange flight suit.
	"Well what about how we feel about it?" interjected their
companion, one of the few Rodians to formally join the Republic, named
Driaa.  "I don't know about you but I didn't sign up to chase petty
thieves around backwater planets."  His green snout ended in an
obvious frown
	"You'd think the government would have something better to do.
I mean, several groups of Imperials have been hitting raids on some of
the Outworlds.  Remember last cycle when that passenger cruiser got
sabotaged?  Killed eight hundred.  The Imperials claimed
responsibility.  What did we do about it?" asked Lamrin.
	"Gimme a squad of fighters and I'll track them down."  smirked
Driaa.
	"You guys know anything about those anarchists?  I hear
they're getting kinda popular." Lamrin queried.
	"I know one of them." said Cori.  "Used to be a fighter pilot
that resigned his commission.  They don't like the things the
Republic's been doing."
	"So what do they want?" asked Driaa, crossing his arms, "The
Empire back in power?"
	"That's not it." said Cori flatly. "They don't want any
galactic government.  They think each system should be able to govern
itself."
	"You sound like one of them." sneered Driaa.
	"She's just saying..." began Lamrin.
	"Shhh..." hushed Cori, whispering. "...here comes the
General."
	Wedge Antilles made his way over to the group with his tray of
food.
	"Back in the days of the Rebel Alliance, we'd be lucky to get
a a few grain bars and protein paste in our rations." the white-haired
General said sitting down.  "You kids have got it lucky."
	The group ate in silence for a while.  Finally, Driaa spoke
up.
	"General, why are we going after these small timers?"  he
asked Antilles, his glassy eyes reflecting the image of the General.
	Cori shot him a warning look, but she couldn't read if it had
any effect on that green insectoid face.
	Wedge wiped his mouth and sat back in his seat, searching the
air for the appropriate answer.
	"We have our orders." was all he could think to say.
	"What's the plan General?" asked Cori, obviously trying to
change the subject.
	"We are to complete your training exercises and rendezvous
with the Corvette Windray.  I'm going to select a squad and we take
the Windray to Devoaak.  We have an operative there who thinks he can
get us inside the smuggling ring.  All we have to do is learn as much
as we can and report back." said Wedge.
	"Any idea what squad you'll want for the job?" asked Lamrin
shyly, his eyes darting from one face to another.  He looked back down
at his plate and pushed the food around.
	Wedge smiled.
	"Now you know that will be in my briefing this afternoon."
said Wedge, raising an eyebrow at Lamrin.
	Wedge felt three pairs of eyes on him, looking for an answer.
	"All right," he sighed, dropping his facade of military
formality. "It's you.  I can't think of any other team I'd rather have
with me."
	Cori chuckled.
	"Just so long as Lamrin doesn't get any loose couplings, right
Grey Six?" she joked.
	"Right Grey Four.  Very funny." responded Lamrin, his eyes
rolling up.
	Driaa chortled an odd alien laugh to himself.
	"Speaking of loose couplings..." announced Wedge, "after lunch
it's back to the simulator."
	The group finished their meal quickly.

			 *  *  *  

	The little freighter sped through the fractal-tunnel of
hyperspace, bound for home.  Within, Ryallt sat in one corner of the
empty cargo hold.  It was dark, musky, and smelled of various oily
lubricants.  He had let his hair loose, bangs falling in his eyes as
he sprawled in the shadows.  In one hand he held a small disk that
projected a slowly rotating image; the image of an Imperial Lambda
Class Shuttle.  By his side lay an empty vial and a hypodermic
atomizer.
	The door slid open with a metallic whine, flooding light into
the darkened hold.  Silhouetted in the doorway stood the uneven form
of a silver droid.  Ryallt didn't look up, but continued to stare
fixedly at the holographic shuttle.
	"Ryallt?  You okay?" asked Nin softly, bending noisily down on
one knee to come to eye-level with his friend.
	Ryallt chuckled like a drunken man.
	"Who would have thought the Imperials could have designed
something so beautiful?" he said to the disk.
	Nin looked at the lightly glowing image.
	"It is functional, I suppose." replied Nin.  He hadn't yet
grasped the fine points of human aesthetics.
	"Functional?" asked Ryallt loudly, "It's a bloody work of
art."
	Nin picked up the vial.  Ryll.  Ryallt had taken his second
dose of Ryll in twelve hours.  This was going to be a bad one.
	"You want to talk about it?" he asked the boy.
	Ryallt looked at Nin affectionately though his drug- induced
haze.
	"When do you think we'll be able to get out of this?  I mean,
where does it end?"
	Nin din't know what to say.  Ryallt was prone to these fits,
at least once every time they did a run.  Two years prior, Ryallt's
widowed mother had fallen in with a local Corellian crime boss, who
had adopted Ryallt as his own.  He had given Ryallt a job with his
smuggling operation, usually small goods delivery, and a ship to do it
in.  Ryallt had never trusted his new "uncle", realizing that if his
mother ever fell out of favor with him, then Ryallt would be out in
the cold.  Ryallt was now a virtual slave to Uncle, having to perform
any task the gangster set out for him, usually under veiled threats of
violence to his mother.  Nin knew that Ryll was one of Ryallt's few
escapes from his Uncle's tyranny.  Nin also knew that the very reason
Ryallt had constructed him out of spare parts was due to the terrible
loneliness Ryallt felt from his enforced life.
	In order to spend as little time with Uncle's organization as
possible, Ryallt had fallen in with the local chapter of Dark Star
Hellions, notorious Swoop Gang.  Here Ryallt had met Amrit, a Twi'lek
female who eventually became his girlfriend.  It was she who
introduced Ryallt to Ryll.  Now Ryallt used the drug regularly, an
anesthetic to help him forget the bind he was in.
	Nin glanced again at the holodisk.  Amrit had given him that,
after Ryallt had seen a similar shuttle on Tatooine once.  He was
stricken by the ship, and ever since had dreamed of owning one.
	"There's things like this flying around," said Ryallt
suddenly, as if reading Nin's electronic thoughts, "and I'm stuck with
this broken-down tank."
	"Oh I don't know..." said Nin, "The Arcrunner's served us
pretty well.  She's saved our behinds a few times."
	Ryallt gazed around the grimy hold.
	"Ya, I suppose.  She kinda reminds me of you actually." he
said.
	Nin cocked his head in obvious questioning.
	"Held together with spit and wishes.  But always there when
you need it." said Ryallt, slapping Nin's knee-joint.
	"Thanks pal.  Listen, I just got a message from Uncle."  said
the droid.
	Ryallt groaned.  "What does he want now?"
	"He wants us to reroute to the Devoaak system.  Pick up."
	"Oh well.  Like I got a choice." Ryallt shrugged.  "Let's hit
it."
	Soon the two were back in the cockpit and feeding in data.

			*  *  *

	Devoaak had a reputation for being one of the most
inhospitable places in the galaxy.  Only it's size, sufficient for
Standard Gravity, ever made the planet among those people occasionally
visited.  It's atmosphere was based on ammonia, and fierce dust storms
constantly raged across it's scarred and barren surface.  It was a
perfect place for smugglers to meet-- secluded, hostile, and the
storms made surveillance a practical impossibility.
	A small Ghtroc freighter came out of hyperspace just outside
the planet's gravity well.
	"Oh how I hate this place." moaned Ryallt as the tiny dot of
the planet seemed to grow outside the cockpit's viewport.
	Two ships hung in orbit around it.  One, a box-like heavy
transport ship, and the other a Corellian Corvette.  The Corvette had
what was obviously a cargo container attached to it's underbelly.
	"That's Remmy's ship, but I wonder who the Corvette belongs
to?" asked Nin.
	"Dunno," replied Ryallt, "Probably our suppliers."
	As the Arcrunner neared the two ships, Nin took a good look at
the Corvette.
	"It looks quite new.  Whoever they are, they have good hard
credit.  And lot's of cargo." commented Nin.
	Ryallt frowned.
	"I have a bad feeling about this." he said as the ship
descended into the planet's acrid atmosphere.

	The landing process on Devoaak was always tense, the ship's
sensors being temporarily distorted by the climatic instability.
Ryallt and Nin were old hands at this, however, and found not only
their way down, but their rendezvous point with little difficulty.
	A violent wind swept across the landscape of maniacally
whipping sand and rock.  Clouds of ammonia boiled in the sky like
angry titans, and pools of ammonia that lay in the pebbly ground were
thrashed by the blowing debris.
	Ryallt pulled his trench coat close around him and adjusted
his goggles with gloved hands.  He had taken the care to strap on a
flight helmet along with his oxygen mask.  The last time he was here,
his hair smelled of ammonia for weeks.  He made sure that no skin was
exposed.  This place could give a serious burn to human flesh; not
from the acrid air, but from the whipping sand.  Nin followed him
close behind, only slightly annoyed by the storm.  He'd need a good
oil bath after this, and probably some anti-corrosives as well.
	The pair trudged on slowly, fighting the wind and trying to
see through the blinding clouds of dust and rock.
	"There, over that way!" yelled Nin, pointing a claw to the
right.
	They walked a few more paces and saw two forms materialize out
of the storm.
	"Remmy!" called Ryallt through the speaker attached to his
mask.
	"Here Ryallt!" came the electronically modified reply through
the howling wind.
	Ryallt and Nin fought their way over to the pair standing
before them.  One was a small thin man, his tiny sparkling eyes
visible through his scratched and worn goggles.  The other was a tall
man, his breathing apparatus completely obscuring his facial features.
	"This is Windim Artin," the small man yelled, "He wants to do
business with Uncle."
	Ryallt never trusted Remmy.  He always seemed a little too
eager to please.  Everybody's friend, always doing too many favors.
	"Pleased to meet you." yelled Ryallt, extending his left hand.
He kept his right hand ready to grab his blaster.  The stranger shook
hands in silence.
	"That your Corvette?" asked Ryallt.
	"It belongs to my people." said the stranger.  "We have some
things we'd like to trade."
	"Looks pretty fancy.  What kind of trading you interested in
Mr. Artin?"
	"We have various contacts.  We can acquire many exotic
products." said Artin.
	"He's okay Ryallt," spoke up Remmy, "You can trust him."
	Ryallt didn't trust him.  But he also knew the Arcrunner could
outrun the Corvette easily, and Artin wouldn't be foolish enough to
take out a flunky.  Artin obviously wanted at Uncle.  For whatever
reason, Ryallt didn't have a problem with that.
	"What did you have in mind Mr. Artin?" Ryallt asked.
	The stranger suddenly let his guard down.
	"We are carrying a cargo of Spice and Ryll." he said.
	Ryallt's ears perked up.
	"We would like to deliver it to your boss as a token of
goodwill, and establish formal relations with him."  Artin looked into
Ryallt's goggles.  "Personally." he added.
	Ryallt made a lightning quick gesture behind his back.
	"Remmy!" called Nin suddenly, "I'm picking up a sudden surge
of coolant from the direction of your shuttle!  You may have had a
rupture!  C'mon!"
	"What?  Damn!" yelled Remmy as he ran into the dust, following
the droid.
	Ryallt grabbed Artin before he could join the other two.
	"It's okay sir, I just wanted to speak with you privately." he
said to Artin.
	Artin seemed to chuckle behind his mask.
	"Okay," he said easily, "talk."
	"Does Uncle know how much you're bringing him?"  queried
Ryallt.
	"He does not." said Artin with an electronic smirk.
	"I'll take you to him... for a price.  Ryll.  Twenty vials.
And nothing said to Uncle.  If not, then I tell Uncle you creeped me
out and I changed my mind." said Ryallt shrugging.
	Artin laughed audibly.
	"Okay." he said slyly.  "I'll give you thirty vials.  Just to
show I'm a gentleman."
	Ryallt grinned with the sense of triumph he always felt when
he undercut Uncle.
	"A gentleman you are sir.  I believe we can do business." he
said with mock grace.
	Two forms came trudging back to the spot.
	"...don't understand," the taller and more artificial of the
two was saying, "I guess all this grit has fouled up my sensors. Sorry
Remmy."
	Remmy just shrugged and scratched his head.
	Ryallt and Artin both suppressed laughter.  After another
quick handshake, Artin and Remmy turned to walk back the their
shuttle.  Ryallt noted that Artin was limping slightly from his right
leg.

	"It's okay, trust me!" Ryallt was saying over the Arcrunner's
comink.  "It's just one Corvette, and they're gonna board the
Arcrunner to make the meeting.  It's all on our terms."
	"You'd better be right about this." said a voice from the
speaker, "I'm holding you personally responsible."
	Ryallt switched the comlink off.
	"I love you too Uncle." he said under his breath.
	Nin checked a readout on the control panel.
	"Artin's ship has just signaled.  We're all set for
lightspeed." reported the droid.
	"Give them the go and let's beat it.  The sooner we get this
done the better.  I've got a certain little Twi'lek back home waitin'
for me." responded Ryallt.
	"Next stop, Corellia." said Nin, pulling the hyperdrive
switch.

			CHAPTER 2

	Blood splattered on the grated floor of the cell as the
prisoner screamed himself hoarse.  The black sphere that hovered over
him, bristling with torture devices, moved back a few feet.  A white
armored figure approached the quivering man, and prodded him with the
butt of a blaster rifle.
	"He won't last much longer." reported the Imperial
stormtrooper through his battle scarred helmet.
	"What information has he given us?" asked a gruff voice from
the shadows.
	"Nothing much sir.  A few schedules for passenger liners, but
no specific registry codes.  I don't think he knows, sir." said the
trooper.
	The owner of the gruff voice walked a step into the light.  He
was of average height, his build muscular.  His body was encased in
the same white armor as other Imperial stormtroopers, save it was
obvious that this armor had seen many a battle.  The head that emerged
from the top of the armor was a head of legendary ugliness.  It was
clean-shaven, scars marring every surface.  Tattoos too numerous to
count crawled up the back of the head and covered the skull, making
dizzying patterns within the folds of scars and wrinkles.  One eye was
missing, the exposed socket dry and shriveled. Part of the skin around
the left side of the mouth had been ripped away long ago, the scar
tissue failing to cover the teeth and gums now visible.  This was
Chanik Ipquus, leader of this cell of Imperials.
	Ipquus stepped towards the broken man shackled to a brace in
the wall.  He took the man's hair in his black gloved hand jerked his
face up.  He looked hard into the man's eyes, dripping with blood and
tears.
	"Registry codes.  Now." he said quietly.
	The man coughed, spewing black blood from his lungs over the
white armor of Ipquus.
	"He can tell us no more." said Ipquus, drawing his blaster
rifle.  He pressed the muzzle of the rifle to the man's head and
fired.  Nearby troopers ducked out of the way of the flying bone and
flesh that now spattered the walls of the cell.  Ipquus stood without
flinching, licking his half-lips clean of blood.
	"I want more information!" he screamed to the assembled
troopers, as he turned and left the cell.  An Imperial officer in a
battered grey uniform followed close after him.
	"Sir, what do we do now?  This is the third official we've
captured and still we haven't learned anything." said the officer,
handing Ipquus a cloth to clean his armor with.
	"We are hunting the wrong prey." said Ipquus, ignoring the
offering.  "We need ships, and the only way we are going to get them
is to go through smuggling channels."
	"But sir, if we attack the smugglers we stand to loose our
only easy source of supplies." observed the officer.
	"Captain Johanson," growled Ipquus, stopping in mid stride and
turning to the officer, "We exist to conquer, not to make friends.
Once we have gained the ships we need there will be no need for us to
use the smugglers.  The Empire never asked to take what it needed and
we are not about to start."
	"Yes sir." said Johanson sheepishly, "But how are we to go
about it?  Surely a direct assault would be foolish.  We have only
this Star Destroyer and a half-compliment of TIEs."
	"You still think like an officer from the old days, Captain.
We will not be stopped.  I want a hostage.  Once we have a link to the
smugglers then we can find their weakness.  We will continue taking
hostages until they break." said Ipquus simply.
	"As you wish sir." said Johanson.
	"And loose that uniform.  I will have none of that
bureaucratic nonsense on my ship.  Get yourself trooper armor and wear
it with pride.  Gone are the days of formality Captain.  We are now
hunters--animals."  Ipquus said stepping close to the Captain.
	Johanson went to back away, but a muscular hand on his
shoulder stopped him.
	Ipquus gathered some blood on his fingers from his chest and
spread it on the young captain's lips.
	"You must taste the blood of the enemy.  Relish it.  Lust for
it.  You only exist to kill them.  Is that understood Captain?" Ipquus
hissed.
	Johanson shivered visibly.
	"Y... yes sir." he said, quivering.
	Ipquus leaned his face inches from the Captains'.
	"Catch me a smuggler." he whispered.

			*  *  *  

	Aboard the Windray, Wedge Antilles conferred with his team in
the small white briefing room.
	"Once we come out of hyperspace we'll dock with the freighter.
I'll take Driaa with me and we'll make contact with this 'uncle'."
said the General.
	The Rodian opposite seemed smug at having been chosen to join
Antilles for the initial meeting.  It was a logical choice of course;
Rodians had long been involved with the criminal underworld.  Having
Driaa along would ease the smuggler's minds.
	"What should we do in the meantime sir?" asked Cori, taking
notes on her datapad.
	"There's a good chance that the smugglers won't just let us
orbit around without trying to probe us." interjected Lamrin.  "We
might even want to be prepared for a boarding party."
	"They won't go that far." said Driaa before Wedge could
answer, "We've got something they want and they're not going to
jeopardize that for the sake of curiosity."
	"Lamrin's right," said Wedge, shooting a warning look at
Driaa, "Cori, I want you to encrypt all our files that relate to
Republic activity as best you can.  Throw in a few false data paths
relating to Talon Carde and any other smugglers you can think of.
Keep our identity hidden but obviously shady.  They won't be stupid
enough to try and attack; in fact our mystery can work for us.  They
don't know who we are so they don't know who's backing us."
	Cori nodded and pushed back her short blond hair.
	"Lamrin, I want you to escort the Windray in our Z-95.  Make
it look like you're checking the ship for damage or repairs, but keep
your eyes open." said Wedge to the youngster.
	"I wished we could have brought along something with more
firepower." Lamrin said to the table.
	"A Headhunter's all we could manage.  Something as big as an
X-wing would be too bulky to fit into the cargo container and with an
A-wing it would be obvious we had a Republic fighter along with us.
One little Z-95 won't arouse suspicion." replied Antilles.
	A light on the table's computer terminal began blinking.
	"We're almost at Corellia." noted Lamrin.
	"Then to your stations. And remember, we're criminals.  Try to
act menacing." said Wedge giving the group quirky grin.

			*  *  *

	Dust whipped down the barren back alleys, past darkened
doorways and broken machinery.  A pall of degradation hung over the
place, the death-wish of a city that has lost hope, spinning out of
control.  Chikktu Province, this small section of Western Corellia,
was the sort of place the rest of the populace would rather ignore.
It was the nexus for the lowest and most dangerous underworld
dealings; a huge, crumbling urban landscape sick with it's own decay.
The officials of Corellia chose decidedly to ignore this metropolitan
tumor, partly because one could not effectively strip away the layers
of decadence that had grown over the place, but mostly because it's
criminal dealings were mostly off-world.  Chikktu's violence was
against itself, not the outside world.  It was the last place for
dying criminals to go, one last deal, one last scam.
	Dilapidated landspeeders, most of them modified beyond
recognition, cruised along the darkened streets, whilst airspeeders
and swoops occasionally whipped by overhead.  Probing eyes were in
every alley, the scent of rotting garbage and desire hung like a
permanent cloud.  When one walked these streets, one displayed one's
blaster prominently.
	Ryallt Tamorr and Nin led Wedge Antilles and his Rodian
companion through a complex maze of alleys and passages.  Eventually
they stopped before an innocuous looking metal door.  Nin stepped
forward as a computer terminal arm sprung out of his chaotically
constructed torso.  Inserting the arm into an adjacent socket, the
door slid noisily aside.
	"What kind of droid is that?" grumbled the Rodian.
	Ryallt turned around.
	"My own special design.  Built 'ol Nin here from spare parts
in Uncle's junk room.  Don't let his look fool you.  You don't want to
know what other toys he's hiding." he warned.
	In response a twelve inch blade suddenly popped out of the
droid's right arm, just above the wrist.  In a split second it was
gone again.  Wedge and the Rodian said nothing, but gave each other a
nervous look.
	The group stepped through the darkened doorway, into a small
foyer.  Ryallt went to a computer terminal on the opposite wall and
keyed in a code.
	"Hold for confirmation." said a tiny speaker beside the unit.
Instantly a bright light suddenly flooded the room, blinding Antilles
and the Rodian.  Ryallt and the droid had been prepared for the
standard security check.
	"Clear." came the same harsh voice from the speaker as the
light faded out.
	With a loud grinding sound, the entire wall next to the group
slid slowly aside.  There stood a humanoid of giant stature, a mass of
flesh and hair, brandishing an enormous blaster rifle.  Ryallt led the
group past him, not giving the guard a second look.  The guard
followed Ryallt's stride with a displeasing look.
	The group came to a halt in front of an ornately carved door,
next to which stood a man of average Corellian height and build.  His
dress was exceptionally formal, and he held an antiquated spear
upright at his side.
	"Loosen up Kla," said Ryallt slapping the man's shoulder,
"We've got guests."
	Kla stared straight ahead, a blank look on his face.
	"If you'd please deposit all weapons here," monotoned Kla,
indicating a bin next to him, "I'll announce you."
	The group disarmed themselves.
	"I'm going to run some checks on the Arcrunner." said Nin to
Ryallt.
	"Sure.  I'll catch up with you later." answered Ryallt.  Nin
wasn't allowed in Uncle's reception chamber anyway.  Too many
concealed weapons, and Ryallt refused to put a restraining bolt on his
best friend.
	When all weapons were away and Nin had left, Kla touched the
center of the golden door.  It parted in the middle, swinging silently
open.
	The room revealed by this door would make any art collector
nauseous.  The walls were hung with tapestries and holographic
paintings that were meant to convey richness, but only succeeded in
displaying gaudiness.  Twisted sculptures and random gold swirls
encrusted parts on the room, and lavish pillows lay beneath brightly
colored silks.  There was not one spot in the place that was not
overflowing with mismatched colors and dizzying patterns; all designed
to make the beholder think that the owner of such articles was
repulsively rich.  It was bad taste taken to a high art.
	Running the length of the room from the door was an impossibly
thick purple carpet, forming a runway down the center of the chamber.
This carpet terminated in a small square dais at the far end of the
room, upon which sat a throne.  The throne itself was laughable--it's
height reached almost to the ceiling, and gems of a very common sort
(some of them no more than colored glass) studded the arms and legs.
Yet the man that sat in the throne was no less unbelievable.  He was
chubby, short, and dressed in masses of flowing purple garments.  A
gigantic crystal stone was set in a ring and worn on the pinky of the
left hand.  The hair was pulled back and tied so tight it made the
eyebrows pull up in a constant look of surprise.  The eyes were small
and clear, nearly hidden by undulating fat.  The lips were thick and
twisted, almost to a snarl.  This was the man known as Uncle.
	On either side of the throne stood a guard, each dressed in
identical black uniforms.
	Kla led the group down the purple runway to stand before this
image of tackiness incarnate.
	"Ryallt Tamorr, Windim Artin and guest." droned Kla, looking
dully at the throne.  He then turned and left the room.
	The fat man before them gave Ryallt a stare that might have
been a growl.  He then regarded Wedge and the Rodian.
	"I understand you wish to engage in formal relations with me,
Mr. Artin." he said to Wedge.  His voice sounded as if his nasal
passages were permanently blocked.
	"That is correct sir.  We have brought a gift of Spice and
Ryll as a gesture of goodwill." said Antilles.
	"Mmm," sneered Uncle, looking at the ceiling, "I'm sure young
Ryallt here was pleased to hear that..."
	Ryallt winced, and his hatred for Uncle grew a little more.
	"...but I thank you nonetheless." finished Uncle, looking once
more at Antilles.  His gaze then moved to the Rodian.  "And who might
this be?" he asked.
	"This is my associate Beeda.  He's my right-hand man in all
transactions." said Wedge.
	"Pleased to meet you." said Driaa, bowing slightly.  Uncle
ignored the gesture, and stared at his own perfectly polished
fingernails.
	"I wish only to deal with you Mr. Artin.  No 'associates'.
Particularly not Rodian." said Uncle with obvious contempt.
	Driaa was visibly angered but held his tongue.
	Wedge glanced at Driaa with a reassuring look.
	"As you wish, sir." said Antilles.
	"Ryallt, take the Rodian somewhere.  Maybe to that den of scum
you frequent." said Uncle to Ryallt.
	Ryallt turned to Driaa.
	"C'mon, don't worry," he said out loud, "he's this charming
with almost everyone."
	"Oh, by the way," called Uncle to Ryallt, "Your mother was
asking for you.  She wanted to know if you could fix her up with some
more Ryll.  I'd give it to her but you know how I can't stand to have
my consorts on that nasty stuff."
	Ryallt shook with anger.
	"I'll take care of my mother." he growled at Uncle.
	"You'd better," replied Uncle menacingly, "Or I will."
	Trying hard not to look at Uncle, Ryallt led the Rodian from
the chamber in silence.

	When Ryallt and Driaa were outside again, Ryallt leaned
against the alley wall.  He took out a stick of processed confection
and chewed on it.
	"What was that about your mother?" asked Driaa, folding his
arms.
	Ryallt stared at the ground.  Surely this stranger didn't
really care, but Ryallt needed a sounding board.
	"My father died in the military.  After that my mother kinda
went off the deep and.  Started getting involved with crime bosses and
stuff.  Eventually she became Uncle's consort, and he gave me a job
with the organization." he said from lowered eyelids.
	"You don't sound too pleased about that." noted the Rodian.
	"He just uses my mother as a way to get me to do whatever he
wants.  If I ever take off he'd kill her.  I'm not even that important
to the organization, he just likes to have power over people.  I'll
tell you one thing... your boss thinks he's going to trade Spice and
stolen art?  Well there's only one thing Uncle's really interested in:
slaves.  That's where most of Uncle's business comes from." said
Ryallt, looking at the Rodian.
	Driaa nodded slowly.
	"Duly noted." he said.  "You going to be okay?" he asked the
boy.
	"Ya, I'll be fine.  In fact I should get over to The Nest...
that 'den of scum' Uncle referred to.  Want to join me?" asked Ryallt.
	"No thanks.  I'll just wait here. Maybe some other time." said
Driaa.
	Ryallt regarded the Rodian carefully.  He was not what he
seemed, that was for sure.  But there was something about him Ryallt
liked.
	"Well here," said Ryallt, reaching into one of many pockets in
his trench coat, "these'll get you in.  Drop by if you and Mr. Artin
want a drink.  He'll probably need one after dealing with Uncle."
	Driaa took small stack of thin holographic cards from Ryallt.
They displayed a small map and an admittance code.
	"Thanks," said Driaa, "we'll see you later."

			*  *  *

	As Ryallt walked through the littered streets of Chikktu, he
pulled out his comlink.
	"What have you got?" he asked into the tiny unit.
	"Nothing much," came Nin's voice over the speaker, "they're
security 'net on the ship is encrypted big time.  Almost like they
were trying to hide something.  Couple of threads about Talon Carde
and Kessel, but they smelled like Bantha fodder.  Whoever's doing
their computer work is good."
	"Keep on it.  These guys are no way smugglers.  If they want
to take Uncle down I want to know." said Ryallt.
	"So you we escape?" asked Nin.
	"So we can help." replied Ryallt, switching off the comlink
and ducking into a stone archway.

			*  *  *

	The first thing that struck anyone was the thick blanket of
smoke that hung in the air of this darkened cavern.  It lay just over
the heads of the patrons like a second ceiling, smelling of a variety
of different combustibles.  Confused sounds were everywhere--dozens of
different conversations in multitudes of languages, bodies tripping
over tables, glasses smashing, fights erupting, and lying underneath
it all, the constant pounding of some unrecognizable music.  A few
dilapidated gaming tables lined one of the grated steel walls, and a
holographic ring, projecting brawling wookiees, sat in the center of
the room.  Wire screens and metal support beams seemed to randomly
stand throughout the room, and lights fluoresced beneath the tables.
	Ryallt entered this place and proceeded to a section of
private booths, carefully stepping over sleeping bodies and broken
glassware.  He arrived at a table, at which sat three young men of
about the same age as Ryallt.  Their dress was obviously
outlaw--random sections of armor attached to animal hides. Their belts
hung heavy with various tools and weapons, and their boots ran up past
their knees. Each wore identical black gloves, and had hair longer the
Ryallt, save each had shaved the right side completely off.  Ears,
noses, eyebrows, and practically every piece of spare flesh had been
pierced and fitted with metal studs and chains.  These were Dark Star
Hellions, swoop gang, local chapter.
	"Well, when you'd get back, slick?"  one of them said,
slapping Ryallt's hand.
	"Just now.  How you doin' Kryt?" smiled Ryallt.
	"Can't complain.  Have a seat!" said the tough-looking Kryt.
	"No thanks.  Anyone seen Amrit around?" asked Ryallt.
	Ryallt wondered why the three gang members sitting at the
table suddenly began chuckling as they looked at him; no, they looked
past him.  Without warning, two green hands suddenly slid from beneath
Ryallt's arms and firmly grasped his chest.  Turning around quickly,
Ryallt found himself in the embrace of a beautiful Twi'lek female.
	Her skin was a soft green hue, two tentacles hanging over her
shoulders.  Her figure was lean and strong, the muscles toned to
sinuous perfection; this was apparent through the scanty clothing,
mostly consisting of armor pieces strapped on with netting.  A
mean-looking blaster was strapped to her muscular leg, next to a long
vibro-blade.  Amrit Flangella, Ryallt's girlfriend.  Her red full lips
drew up to place a passionate kiss on Ryallt's mouth.
	"Well hey there stranger!"  she said with a cat's purr, "I've
been waiting for you."
	Ryallt's body was still tingling from the kiss.
	"You mean none of these losers has won your heart yet?" Ryallt
joked as he indicated the table.
	"I like 'em young and fresh," the Twi'lek said, squeezing
Ryallt closer, "These crusty old skrings couldn't keep up with me."
	The three at the table laughed it off and drank a pull from
the various liquid containers before them.
	"I've got a surprise for you." said Amrit quietly to Ryallt.
She turned her back to Ryallt and lifted one of her shapely tentacles.
There, just at the base of the skull, was a small blinking light.
	"It's an implant comlink. And this..." she said, reaching into
a pouch and pulling out a small electronic module, "...is the other
one.  It's for you.  We'll can always be connected now."
	Ryallt took the tiny device from Amrit and stared at it.
	"I dunno..." he said, "Isn't it a little dangerous? I mean,
surgery and all?"
	"Don't worry," said Amrit, stroking Ryallt's arm, "I've got
you booked with the best medical droid around.  It'll only take a
couple of hours.  This way Uncle can't keep us apart any more."
	Uncle had a notorious prejudice for any nonhuman races.  He
had never approved of Ryallt's relationship with Amrit.  If this was
another way to undermine Uncle's authority, Ryallt was all for it.
	"Okay, I'll do it." he said softly smiling at the Twi'lek.
	"You two going to stand there all day, or can I sit down?"
came a voice from behind the couple.
	There stood a man just older than Ryallt.  His build was slim,
and his face showed a calm aqualine grace.  The hair was deep black,
and the eyes penetrating.  His dress was almost military, a
form-fitting black body suit under a many-pocketed vest.  His belt,
like the others, sported many pouches and devices, and he wore the
same black gloves as the other gang members.
	"Good to see you Larn!" exclaimed Ryallt with uncharacteristic
enthusiasm.  Ryallt had always liked Larn Holden.  Out of all the
Hellions, Larn was the one Ryallt could talk to about his personal
problems.  All of the Hellions watched out for Ryallt like a little
brother, but Ryallt had a special rapport with this unique individual.
	Larn regarded the small device in Ryallt's hand.
	"Good idea." he said as he slipped past Ryallt into the booth.
Ryallt had learned not to ask when Larn said such cryptic things,
which was often.
	"Where'd you disappear to for the past two days?"  asked Kryt
to Larn.
	"Things to do." shrugged Larn.  He looked at Kryt hard in the
eyes.
	"Oh," said Kryt, looking into his drink and dropping the
subject.  Ryallt often wondered how Larn was able to subdue Kryt like
that, seeing as Kryt was the leader of the Hellions.  But just as you
could tell Larn anything about your life, Larn revealed very little
about his.
	"Hey," said Amrit, shaking Ryallt out of his thoughts, "you've
got an appointment with a surgical droid."
	"Well, let's do it." said Ryallt as he let the little Twi'lek
lead him from the bar.

			*  *  *

	Smell.  That's what hit him first--a clean, antiseptic smell
that stung his nostrils.  Then, like a massive gravity wave, the pain
descended upon him.  He felt like someone was trying to take his brain
out through his right ear.  He tried opening his eyes and saw a blurry
skull-like shape hovering over him.
	"Nin?" he asked weakly.
	"Can I offer you something for the pain sir?" came an
unfamiliar electronic voice.
	The form resolved itself into an antiquated Two-onebee medical
droid, holding a hypodermic atomizer.  Ryallt nodded weakly, and the
robot gave him the shot that instantly dissolved the unbearable pain.
Ryallt slowly turned his head and saw Amrit lounging in a chair
opposite to the medical slab he was laying on.
	"This is your idea of the best medical droid?  It must be a
hundred years old!" he said to the sultry female.
	"Best one around here." she quipped slyly.  She stretched
cat-like, walked over to Ryallt's table, and leaned over his chest.
Her breast brushed his collarbone.  She always knew how to cheer him
up.
	"There wasn't any risk," she said, "This old 'Onebee's been
specially programmed just for 'borging.  It was child's play."  She
looked sweetly at Ryallt.  "I wouldn't have put you in danger, you
know that."
	Ryallt knew.
	Amrit then abruptly turned and left the room.  Ryallt was
about to stop her, when he suddenly felt a soft hissing in his right
ear.
	["They tell me it has a range of twelve light years with only
an eight second time drag."] came Amrit's voice from within Ryallt's
head.
	Ryallt, stunned at the odd sensation, reached around and felt
behind his ear.  He pressed the tiny stud he found there.
	"How did you afford this?" he asked to the air.
	["Someone owed me a few favors.  Ex-boyfriend actually.  You
don't want to know."] came the ethereal reply with a giggle.  Amrit
appeared in the doorway again, her arms folded over her chest.
	Ryallt sat up and hopped off the table.  His head spun for a
moment, and he wobbled visibly.
	"Easy big boy," Amrit said, rushing to him and supporting him,
"You're full of sensory-inhibitors.  Not the kind you're used to
either.  You're going to have to take it easy for a few hours."
	"Well then," said Ryallt, eyeing the little Twi'lek, "let's go
take it easy."

	Hours later, Ryallt lay in the arms of the green-skinned
beauty.
	Her dwelling was a small hovel on the outskirts of the urban
center.  Her room achieved in decor what Uncle's chamber failed.  It
was lit only with tiny gas lamps, at least fifty sprinkled around the
room, giving the impression that the night sky had fallen to rest
here.  They cast a warm golden glow about the place, illuminating a
scene of sensual comfort.  Every stone wall was hung with exotic
cloths, and every inch of floor was covered with huge soft pillows.
Spicy incense burned in a thermal heater in one corner, adding to the
mystery and magic of the room.  Built into the domed ceiling was a
lens that, when activated, projected colorful holographic shapes
sliding over every surface.  A machine recessed into an alcove played
a series of tiny bells and cymbals, a Twi'lek religious artifact.
	Ryallt and Amrit lounged naked in the center of this scene,
taking an occasional puff from a large water-pipe that burned a
sweet-smelling smoke.
	"I wish I could stay here." Ryallt sighed, all semblance of
surgical pain now soothed away by Amrit's tender caresses.
	"That doesn't sound too bad." Amrit purred.
	But the pair both knew that while Uncle was around, that was
impossible.  They had to content themselves with these stolen moments.
	A buzzing from Ryallt's belt lying across the floor broke the
mood.  Ryallt stretched and stood, walking precariously over the
pillows to reach his comlink.
	"Yes." he grumbled into the small cylinder.
	"Ryallt, you'd better get back.  Uncle's looking for you."
came Nin's voice.
	"Boska!" cursed Ryallt in Huttese, a language he'd picked up
on Tatooine.
	"C'mon," said Amrit, collecting her clothes, "I'll ride you
in."
	Soon the two were speeding through the streets on Amrit's
swoop, Ryallt hugging her from behind like he never wanted to let go.

			*  *  *
			
	Aboard the Windray, Cori cross-checked a data stream and
locked it down with a final encryption code.
	"There," she said to herself, "if they try to get in again
they won't get past the initiating sequence."  Cori was one of the
best computer technicians the Republic had ever seen.  Though she was
in training to be a fighter pilot, her real home was behind a console.
	She pressed a button on the panel beside her.
	"Windray to Z-one.  How's it going out there?" she said into
the comlink.
	"Might pretty view.  Nothing to get excited about."  reported
Lamrin as he buzzed about the Corvette in their Headhunter.  "Any
trouble?"
	"Someone got in a while ago, but only to areas I let them.  I
just fed then some bogus data and t hey left.  Whoever they were, they
were good.  Too good for a human."
	"Droid?" asked Lamrin.
	"Maybe," said Cori, tilting her head, "But it didn't think
like a droid.  I mean, it wasn't as predictable as a droid would be.
Well anyway, nothing will get through now.  I'd bet my career on it."
	A series of lights moved past the main screen.
	"Wait a minute, we've got something coming through on the
General's frequency." she said, reading the text scrolling past.
	"Okay," she said finally, "They've struck a deal.  We're to
land with the cargo and off load.  General Antilles says that all is
going well.  He's got their confidence.  You'd better come in now."
	"Copy that; initiating docking sequence." said Lamrin as the
Headhunter arced around and headed back to the cargo container.

			*  *  *

	Once arrived at the private docking bay owned by Uncle's
organization, Wedge introduced Cori and Lamrin to Uncle.  No need to
use aliases; Wedge was a well known name on Corellia, and Driaa's
status as the first Rodian to officially join the Republic made it
necessary for them to sport a disguise.  But Cori and Lamrin had the
comfort of anonymity.
	The bay was a huge concave stone dish reinforced with metal
struts and grating.  Several work droids sat in an alcove, awaiting
orders.  Wedge and Uncle waited outside the landing ramp while Driaa,
Lamrin and Cori began off loading the cargo.
	"Don't know why they don't get his droids to do this?"
snarled Driaa to Cori while they were out of Uncle's earshot.
	"I did some poking around," whispered Cori, "This guy's really
into slaving--he probably asked 'Artin' to get us to do the heavy work
so he could see how much power he has over us.  Just go along with
it."
	The three continued their work, while Wedge and Uncle chatted.
Uncle watched with silent glee as the three youths sweated with their
work.
	A clanking noise from the entryway made Uncle and Wedge
turn. There stood Ryallt and Nin, the boy obviously displeased at
being here.
	"You called?" said Ryallt venemously.
	"Yes, come here my boy.  And do have your droid assist with
this cargo." said Uncle, waving towards Nin.
	Nin looked at Ryallt, and Ryallt could practically feel the
springs tighten in the blade the droid concealed.
	"It'll be okay.  Just do it." said Ryallt to the droid.  He
then approached Wedge and the toad of a man he despised.
	"Ryallt, I must commend you in bringing Mr. Artin here," said
Uncle, "It turns out that he and I have much in common."
	"Is that so?" said Ryallt uninterested as he stared at the
ground.
	"Indeed so.  In fact Mr. Artin and I have just made a deal.
For slaves..." said Uncle, looking hard at Ryallt, "...Twi'lek
slaves." finished Uncle with a triumphant grin on his face.
	Ryallt raised his head to meet Uncle's piggish eyes.  His
fists tightened and he wished he could make blaster bolts come from
his eyes.  He then looked at Artin, who avoided the boy's glare.
Something not right there... no way was Artin a slaver.  Ryallt was
now more determined than ever to find out exactly who these people
were.
	"Done Mr. Artin." reported Cori from the gangplank of the
cargo container, wiping her hands.
	"Ryallt," said uncle, "I am sending you on a run.  Mr.  Artin
has a contact on Ryloth that you are to rendezvous with.  You are to
pick him up and bring him here."
	"Can't this guy get a transport?  What am I now, a chauffeur?"
asked Ryallt angrily.
	"Mr. Artin as shown his good will with this gift.  I am
showing mine by sending one of my own ships to pick up his associate."
said Uncle nonchalantly.
	Ryallt knew argument was impotent.
	"C'mon Nin, let's go." called Ryallt to the droid.
	"Not this time." said Uncle, "I want that droid staying here.
I don't like the fact that you let it pilot my ship.  You make this
run alone."
	"But..." started Ryallt.
	"I'm sure your mother would appreciate it if you obeyed my
wishes." said Uncle ominously.
	Ryallt backed down.
	"You leave within the hour.  Get the details from Mr.  Artin."
said Uncle as he turned and walked back into the hatchway that led to
the main building from the bay.
	Ryallt was shaking with anger.
	"I need a drink." he said to himself.  He then regarded
Artin. "Care to join me Mr. Artin?  Everyone's welcome."
	Wedge gave his team a look.  Sometimes there is more to learn
in the local bar than in the belly of the beast.
	"We'd be honored." said Wedge to Ryallt.

	"...so the guy said that the girl was with him.  Well she
certainly didn't feel that way.  I let him walk away with most of his
fingers." Kryt was saying to the rest of the Hellions in their booth
at The Nest.  Suddenly Amrit, who had been sitting on a stool at the
head of the table, sat straight up and gazed at the air.  Kryt gave
Larn a questioning look.
	"Ryallt has just signaled.  He's coming with three
guests--customers of Uncle's.  He think they're trying to take Uncle
down and wants us to poke around their ship.  They've only left one
person at the docking bay to guard it.  He says to keep it quiet."
reported Amrit.
	"I'll go." said Larn, standing.
	"I'm going too.  If it concerns Ryallt, it concerns me."  said
Amrit.
	"Tell Ryallt you two are going," said Kryt to Amrit, "And
we'll be waiting here for him and his guests.  We'll be real
hospitable and delay them as long as we can."
	Amrit touched the stud behind her tentacle and told Ryallt.
	"Let's go." said Larn as he rushed swiftly out of the bar.

	Within ten Standard minutes, Ryallt arrived at the Nest with
Wedge, Driaa, and Lamrin.  He led them over to the Hellion's booth and
introduced them.
	"So, you're doing business with Uncle are you Artin?"  asked
Kryt as he finished shaking hands with Wedge.
	"That's right," said Wedge, "with the Republic breathing down
everyone's throats we've decided to diversify our contacts."
	"I hear that." said Kryt, "It's getting so you can't get
offworld without permission from the Mighty Republic."
	Driaa spoke up.
	"Well, it's one hell of a lot better than the Empire ever
was!" he said indignantly.
	"Is it?" asked Kryt, eyeing the other two Hellions who sat
opposite him, "Seems to me whether it's the Emperor or the Senate
telling us what to do, either way we're not free."
	"Well, at least the Republic doesn't kill and enslave millions
of innocents like the Empire." shrugged Lamrin.
	"No, they let others do that." mumbled one of the two Hellions
who up to now had been silent.
	Wedge looked hard at the man.  He seemed familiar.
Yes... beneath the long hair was the face of a boy he had trained, but
who had resigned and disappeared without a word.  Wedge suddenly
realized that this individual must recognize him.
	The man leaned over and extended a hand to Wedge.
	"Koraq.  Jabot Koraq.  Pleased to meet you Mr... Artin was
it?" he said, shaking Wedge's hand.  It was obvious from the way he
looked at Wedge that he did indeed recognize him.
	Wedge sighed with relief that Koraq didn't blow his
cover... not yet at least.  Lamrin looked from the General to the gang
member, and realized something was up.
	"You seem to have a rather strong opinion on the matter." said
Lamrin cautiously to Koraq.
	"I used to be in training with the Republic," said Jabot as
Lamrin realized why Antilles had such a startled reaction, "but I
found out more than I should.  Got into a computer block that held
some interesting information."
	"What information?" asked Driaa cautiously.
	Jabot looked at Wedge, Driaa and Lamrin intently.
	"The Calamari," he said flatly, "They are gaining control any
way they can.  Seems that they feel that the galaxy owes them a big
debt.  It's part if their religious structure... they believe the
Calamari are the most enlightened beings in the universe, and it's
their 'duty' to govern."
	"Can't be," said Wedge, "The Calamari have always been a
peaceful race."
	"Oh peaceful, sure.  They wouldn't personally lift a fin to
harm another being.  But they would get others to do their dirty work.
The resentment has been growing for a long time, since the Empire
conquered them.  They now see other life forms, particularly human, as
inferior barbarians... children who need to be disciplined.  I can't
tell you how much it bothers them that it's a human in charge of the
Republic." said Jabot.
	Not much in charge, thought Wedge.
	"That's why they won't do anything to stop the Imperial
terrorists," interjected Kryt, "They consider it to be a human
problem.  They don't care if humans kill each other off.  The more
worlds that are fearful of the terrorists, the more worlds will seek
the Republic's protection.  They're going after smugglers because
that's taking money directly away from the Republic, and basically
represents a level of freedom they can't tolerate."
	Driaa and Lamrin exchanged a look behind Wedge's back.  Wedge
remained in silent contemplation.
	Jabot Koraq leaned in close to Wedge.
	"That's why I hooked up with the Hellions here," he was saying
with a grin, "we have connections to the anarchists who want to take
down the Republic."
	"What do you mean 'take down'?" asked Wedge with urgency.
	"If we can avoid violence so much the better.  But we realize
that the final answer must be for all star systems to be free.  The
more support we get the better." said Koraq, looking away.
	"We're not very organized yet." said Kryt, wondering why Jabot
had pushed this thread of the conversation, "Right now we're just
collecting our thoughts.  We haven't got any great plan... but we do
know that the Republic will continue to become more restrictive until
the Empire will have seemed like a holiday."
	Ryallt, who had been standing silently behind Driaa until now,
realized that the Hellions were giving Artin more information than
they were getting.
	"Well, why don't we all have a drink?" asked Ryallt to the
group, "And talk some more."
	Driaa pulled over a couple of stools and the group settled in
to chatting.

	Larn and Amrit made sure to park their swoops far from the
docking bay.  They huddled around a corner from where the Windray was
settled, Amrit pulling her vibroblade from it's sheath.
	"You won't need that." said Larn to the Twi'lek.
	"Well it's quieter than blaster fire!" she whispered back to
him.
	"You just create a distraction.  Something to draw the guard
out of the ship.  Leave the rest to me." said Larn with authority.
"And no bloodshed."
	"Okay, if that's how you want it." shrugged Amrit.
	Amrit promptly tore the netting that held on her chest armor
so that one breast was exposed, and wiped dust and dirt from the
street around her legs and arms.  She then ran screaming into the open
area of the docking bay.
	Promptly Cori appeared at the lowered gangplank, in response
to the anguished yells.  She rushed to the aid of the Twi'lek female
that was running about the area in obvious distress.
	"Wait!  Calm down, it's okay!" she was saying to the Twi'lek,
as she tried to stop the chaotic movements of the woman.
	"Oh my!  You must help me!" Amrit was saying beneath tears,
"I've been robbed!"
	"Are you hurt?" asked Cori.
	"I don't think so... but they got everything!  All the money I
had to feed my baby!  What am I going to do now?  Oh!" sobbed the
Twi'lek.
	"It'll be okay," soothed Cori as she cradled Amrit's tentacled
head in her arms.
	Amrit blubbered and cried as Cori thought of what she could
do.
	"Well here," said Cori finally, reaching into a pouch on her
belt, "it isn't much, but at least you can buy some food with it."
	Amrit took the small stack of credits from the young woman.
	"Oh thank you!  You're so kind!" she said with overdone
gratitude.
	Suddenly a shadowy black form appeared behind the two women.
	"Something wrong here?" asked a calm male voice.
	Both Cori and Amrit jumped at the sound, not having heard the
approach of the man.  Amrit looked up and saw Larn standing there.
	"Oh darling!" she exclaimed, springing up and throwing herself
into Larn' unprepared arms, "It was horrible!  The thieves got
everything!  But this kind lady has given us enough credit to feed our
baby!"
	Larn, quickly gaining composure, looked at Cori, who stood to
meet his gaze. She was just taller than Larn, slender and sleek.  Her
bobbed shoulder-length blond hair framed a face of exceeding sweetness
and prettiness.  Larn made a quick mental note.
	"Then I'll thank you madam.  But I think I should take my, uh
, wife home now." said Larn to Cori.
	"Of course," said Cori, "I hope she'll be all right."
	As the two made their way out of the bay, Cori noted the large
blaster strapped to the Twi'lek's leg.
	"Oh no..." she moaned as she sprang into the Windray.  She
made her way quickly to the main terminal and hastily punched in a
code.
	"Aaahhh!  How could I have been so stupid!" she cursed
herself.  There has been a data tap on this terminal not more than
thirty seconds ago.  She ran out of the ship again, attempting to
catch the two.  She saw, just above the horizon, two swoops speeding
away with her quarry.

	Some distance away from The Nest, Larn and Amrit pulled their
swoops into a deserted alley.
	"How did you do that so quickly?" asked Amrit as she fixed her
chest armor into place.
	Larn pulled out a small square device and handed it to Amrit.
	"Little something I picked up once.  It does a full data dump
without having to go through the security routines." he explained.
	Amrit whistled.
	"I thought only the military had this kind of stuff." she
commented.
	"They do."  said Larn as he retrieved the device.
	"But how..." began Amrit, who was silenced by Larn's upraised
hand.
	Larn began to tap a small keypad on the device, and a
holographic screen suddenly appeared between himself and Amrit.  Text
scrolled past at dizzying speed, and Amrit wondered how Larn could
read so fast.
	"Oh boy." he said finally, "They're trouble."
	"What is it?" asked Amrit excitedly.
	"They're Republic spies.  They were sent here to infiltrate
Uncle's operation.  Or at least that's what they think."  frowned
Larn.
	"What do you mean?"
	"My little toy here got into a high-end memory that they don't
even know they're carrying.  They're going to be double-crossed."
	Amrit bit her lip as Larn continued.
	"Artin is none other than General Wedge Antilles.  The
Calamarian Senate wants him gone.  Seems he's a bit of a thorn in
their sides.  They've got a little sub-program that's going to
sabotage their ship.  It's going to change all of it's registry codes
and archives to make it look like it's been used for smuggling by
Antilles.  They're going to come in here and accuse him of treason, of
collaborating with Uncle, and then court martial him."
	"What about Organa Solo?  She in on this?" asked Amrit.
	"I doubt it," said Larn, pressing a switch.  Text reversed
itself to a point where Larn had marked, "Read this.'  he said.
	Amrit leaned in and read the holographic text.  It read:

	"SUBPROGRAM IS TO GO INTO EFFECT TO COINCIDE WITH
	OPERATION WATERSHED.  AT SUCH TIME GENERAL ANTILLES
	IS TO BE ACCUSED OF ASSASSINATING STATE HEAD LEIA
	ORGANA SOLO.  RECORDS IN HIS PERSONAL LOGS WILL BE
	CHANGED TO REFLECT THIS."

	"What's Operation Watershed?" asked Amrit cautiously.
	"It seems..." said Larn, "To be the planned assassination of
Leia Organa Solo."

	Ryallt couldn't believe his right ear as Amrit reported their
findings.
	["What should we do?"] she asked Ryallt as he huddled in a
cell of the male lavatory.
	"I don't know... we could warn them." he said, pressing the
comlink stud behind his ear.
	["But that would leave Uncle untouched.  Ryallt this is a
chance to finally get him out of the way"]
	"Ya, and I'd go down with him.  The Calamari leave no stone
unturned when they pull a smuggling raid." said Ryallt, "No... our
only chance is to try and enlist their aid."
	["They won't trust us.  They'll think we're setting them up."]
said Amrit.
	"Wait... you said that this file is in their own computer?"
asked Ryallt.
	["Yes, but in an area they don't even know they have..."]
	"..so they won't even think to look for it." finished Ryallt.
"I remember Nin said their computer operative was good.  That means
they've probably found the data tap you guys pulled by now, and will
be resetting their security routines."
	["Ya, so?"]
	"What if we let them think they've found the file by
themselves, while they were fixing the system?" Ryallt asked.
	["But how?"]
	"You have Larn transmit that file and it's encryption paths to
the Arcrunner.  I'll call Nin and alert him.  If anyone can get it in
there, he can." smiled Ryallt.
	["Gotcha.  What should we do in the meantime?"]  asked Amrit.
	"It's sure that Artin, I mean Antilles will know about you two
and your break-in soon.  Lie low."
	["Will do sweetheart."]
	"And Amrit?  I don't know if I'll see you before I leave for
Ryloth.  Even though this whole thing is bogus, we don't know how long
it will take for them to find the file.  We all have to maintain
appearances until the boom lowers." said Ryallt.
	["That's okay, I'll be waiting for you when you get back.
Grrrrr.  Besides, we can keep in touch right?"] she reminded Ryallt.
	"Oh ya!  Well, at least up to twelve light years anyway.  I'll
contact you soon."  said Ryallt as he released the comlink stud and
exited the lavatory.

			*  *  *

	The Interdictor Star Destroyer Nighthunter pulled into orbit
around Kolaador.
	Captain Johanson, now in stormtrooper armor, paced nervously
towards Chanik Ipquus' main chamber.
	He was a mature man, not quite old enough to remember the days
of Emperor Palpatine.  He was the youngest recruit to a squad of
stormtroopers during the reign of Grand Admiral Thrawn.  After the
fall of Thrawn, the Empire had lost what little organization it had
left, and it began to break up into factions.  Johanson was part of
the squad that had sworn loyalty to it's leader, Chanik Ipquus.
Ipquus led a coup against the Captain of their assigned Star
Destroyer, becoming horribly wounded in the process.  But the coup
succeeded, and with the support of the soldiers around him, Ipquus
started a policy of terrorism that continued to this day.  Johanson
saw his squad leader become more and more unstable, a despot bent on
killing and fear.  The men followed him without question though, and
it seemed their activities were working.  The Republic had not
responded to their raids and attacks with any kind of military force.
This only angered Ipquus, who was now seeing the Republic as a group
of cowards, and stirred him to try harder to make them fight.
	Johanson reached the door to Ipquus' chamber, and stepped
within.
	Ipquus lay on a complex metal device, a machine designed to
exercise several major muscle groups.  His huge chest was bare, and
displayed more tattooing and deep scars.  In response to the sound of
the door closing, Ipquus sat up and turned his battered skull towards
Johanson.
	"What have you to report?" he growled as spittle ran out of
the side of his half-mouth.
	Johanson shook himself out of studying the swirling tattoos
that covered Ipquus' bald head.
	"We have received a transmission from an operative on
Corellia.  The smuggler who we deal with there is sending a single
agent to Ryloth.  I think this is our best target for kidnapping."
said Johanson.
	"Excellent." said Ipquus, making a grotesque attempt at
smiling, "Move the Nighthunter to intercept position, between Ryloth
and Corellia.  Make sure that the smuggler is pulled out of hyperspace
close enough to the ship to get a quick tractor beam on him.  I want
this clean and quiet, understood Captain?"
	"Yes sir." said Johanson as he hurriedly left the room.

			*  *  *

	Larn Holden entered his dwelling, near where Amrit Flangella
lived.  None of the Hellions knew this fact, as Larn's lodgings were
kept strictly to himself.  He had very good reason for desiring
privacy.  The habitation was very sparse in decor, the only
furnishings being of a functional sort.
	He hastily threw off his vest, and entered a small room
adjacent to the main room.  This room was in stark contrast to the
utilitarian nature of the first.  It was very dark, the walls being
coloured a matte black.  Larn extracted a thin metal strip from his
belt and ignited the four gas flame lamps that stood in each quarter
of the tiny room.  The soft light cast by these lamps illuminated a
solemn scene.  In the exact center of the floor was a solid square
object, rising to just below the knees.  Upon this stand was a thermal
heater, and in the exact center, a large jewel-like crystal object.
	Larn stood behind the cube, and carefully opened a long pouch
strapped to his right leg.  From this he extracted a long metal
object, roughly shaped like a tube with a small disk at the far end.
Larn touched a switch and a brilliant violet beam leaped from the
disk.  The handle hummed slightly as Larn held the lightsaber out
before him.
	After concentrating on the blade for a few minutes, Larn
extinguished the lightsaber and sat cross-legged before the cubic
table.  He then ignited the incense that lay inside the thermal
heater, and closed his eyes.
	"Leia Organa-Solo," he whispered as smoke spiraled into the
air, "I call you.  Hear me."

			*  *  *

	Wedge sat in morose meditation as the other, younger folk
around him chatted and drank.  What if what Jabot was saying is true?
What if the Calamari really did have this sinister hidden agenda?  The
more Wedge thought about it, the more he realized that their agenda
was not so hidden.
	A buzzing from his comlink broke his train of thought.
	"Excuse me for a moment." he said to the group as he rose and
made his way to a private corner.
	"What is it?" he said quietly to the comlink.
	"We have a problem sir.  Someone managed to get a full data
dump of all our files." reported Cori.
	"Damn.  They got everything?" asked the General.
	"Yes sir, and..." Cori hesitated.
	"And what?" asked Wedge impatiently.
	"Sir, I found something while I was reconstructing the
security net.  I think you'd better get back here."
	"We'll be right there." said Wedge, switching off the comlink.
He hastily walked over to the Hellion's booth, and looked at Driaa and
Lamrin.
	"We had better go." he said.
	"Problem?" asked Ryallt.
	"No, just some maintenance on the ship.  Still, I want my
people with me."  said Wedge.
	"Well, I guess I'll see you when I get back from Ryloth." said
Ryallt, shaking Wedge's hand.
	Wedge and his team left the bar hurriedly.  When they were
gone, Ryallt sat in the booth and leaned in close.
	"Boy have I got something to tell you guys!" he said to the
Hellions.
	"That was General Wedge Antilles." said Jabot Koraq
nonchalantly.
	Ryallt looked deflated.
	"What?" asked Kryt anxiously, "And we just told him that we're
involved with the anarchists?"
	"Don't worry," said Ryallt, "they've got problems of their
own."
	Ryallt explained what Larn and Amrit had found out.
	"So that's why the disappearing act." observed Jabot.
	Ryallt's comlink buzzed on his belt.
	"Ryallt," came Nin's voice, "You'd better get going.  Uncle's
screaming that you should have left fifteen minutes ago."
	"Gotcha.  Sure wish you were coming with me pal."  replied
Ryallt.
	"Well, if the info that Larn send me is true, we'll have
plenty to do when you get back.  Like find new jobs." said the droid.
	"Hey Nin," said Ryallt just before switching off the comlink,
"Make sure my mother's okay, will ya?"
	"Got it covered.  Good luck"
	Ryallt adjusted his trench coat and walked hastily from The
Nest.

			*  *  *

	Wedge read the file on the screen for the tenth time.  The
others, behind him, sat in stony silence at the briefing table.
	"And you're sure this file couldn't have been planted by
whoever did the data pull?" he asked Cori.
	Cori stopped chewing her hair and looked up and the General.
	"No sir.  That file's been here since before we boarded the
Windray.  The sabotage program is in there and it knows all the
correct subroutines to get straight at the registry codes and
transponder signal.  No way someone could have forged that."  she
said.
	"Now what do we do?" asked Driaa venemously.
	"Cori, I want you to disable the sabotage program.  They may
be able to change my logs on the Mothma 1, but at least they won't get
any collaborating evidence here." said Wedge.
	Lamrin suddenly looked wildly at everyone.
	"We have to warn State Head Organa Solo!" he said.
	"And how do you propose we do that?" asked Driaa, "Unless one
of us knows some super-secret comlink signal of hers, how do we get
through to her without the Senate knowing about it?"
	"We could send a broad-band holonet transmission...  blow the
lid off this thing. Tell everyone who's listening what we've found and
warn Leia at the same time." suggested Lamrin.
	"It wouldn't work." came an unfamiliar voice from the briefing
room doorway.  There stood a young man in a form- fitting black body
suit under a many-pocketed vest.
	Driaa pulled his service blaster from his holster and leveled
it at Larn, as Cori looked up startled from the computer terminal.
	"You..." said Cori, "You're the one who was with the Twi'lek!
You're the one who broke into our system!"
	"And I'm the one who found that file of yours." said Larn,
ignoring the blaster Driaa had trained on him.  "Are you going to
arrest me for spying?"
	"Who are you?" growled Driaa.
	"Larn Holden," he said to the Rodian, "I'm with the Dark Star
Hellions.  Ryallt had a feeling about you so he had us check you out.
Guess we both found out more than we bargained for."
	"Why wouldn't the holonet work?" asked Lamrin, getting the
conversation back on track.
	"The entire system's run by the Republic, and now you know who
runs the Republic.  Nothing will get out over any of the primary
transmitters without the Calamari detecting it and stopping it."
shrugged Larn.
	"What about pirate transmitters?" asked Wedge to the floor.
	"Too easy to discredit." said Larn, "Us anarchists will say
anything to cause dissension, don't you know?"
	"So we're stuck." said Lamrin, defeatedly.
	Wedge looked up at Larn.  He then gazed at the members of his
team.
	"I can't ask any of you to join me," he said, "but my choice
is clear.  I entered this war to fight in the cause of freedom.  Now
that freedom is threatened by the very powers I helped establish. I am
joining the anarchists.  There's nowhere left for me to go."
	Silence hung in the room.  Eventually Lamrin spoke up.
	"I'm going with you." he said simply.
	Larn turned to look at Cori, who was seated at the computer
terminal, once again chewing the end of her blond hair.
	"We could use a tech like you," he said with a smile, "I
haven't seen work like that in a long time."
	Cori looked into Larn's eyes.  Yes, something there...  warm,
inviting...
	"I'm in." she said to Larn.
	The group then turned to look at Driaa, who still had a
blaster pointed at Larn.  He returned their stares with a classic
blank insectoid gaze.
	"Oh ya," he said finally, "lots of good jobs for military
trained Rodians in the Republic these days!  I'm with you." he
chuckled, holstering his blaster.
	The group smiled, forgetting for a moment the terrible
situation that lay ahead of them.

			*  *  *

	Ryallt looked at the thin, ragged female face that gazed back
at him from the Arcrunner's comscreen.
	"I won't be gone long, mom.  Nin will look after you 'till I
get back." he said.
	The eyes of the woman rolled back slightly and the head
wobbled.
	"It's okay son, you have a nice time." she said.
	She was on Ryll again.  Ya sure, thought Ryallt, Uncle really
hates giving that stuff to his consorts.  Keeps them in line.
	"See you mom." said Ryallt as he switched off the comlink.  He
knew his mother hadn't comprehended a word he said.
	"Well, now for a bogus trip to Ryloth for no good reason." he
said to himself, scratching the itchy area behind his right ear.
	["Now don't you go picking up any women while you're there,"]
came the voice of Amrit from inside his head, ["There's only one
Twi'lek who'd have you anyway"] she chuckled.
	Ryallt hadn't realized he'd touched the implant comlink stud
while scratching.  This would take some getting used to.
	"Fear not fair maid," he replied, "I desire only your soft
tentacles."
	["See you later sweet thing."] said Amrit, signing off.
	Ryallt initiated the takeoff cycle and eased into the
controls.  The freighter traveled lightly on it's repulsorlift drives
until it had cleared the city.  Ryallt then engaged the ion engine and
sped out of the planet's atmosphere.
	After calculating the hyperspace route in the small nav
computer, Ryallt took out his little holodisk from one of his many
pockets.  The image of the Imperial shuttle spun silently as Ryallt
admired it's angles.  He then extracted a hypodermic atomizer and
injected himself.
	"This is going to be a boring one." he said to himself as the
Ryll began to seep into his system.
	A quick flick of a control lever and the Arcrunner entered
hyperspace.

			*  *  *

	A disheveled group of about thirty individuals had gathered at
the Nest.  Among them were representatives of many different races,
among them human, Sullustian, Wookiee, and even a few droids.  They
sat in rough organization about the room, no clear hierarchy being
apparent.  They were mostly young, outlawed and ready for a fight.
Wedge felt like he was coming home.
	Larn Holden was addressing the group, informing them of the
recent developments with Wedge's team.
	"...this being so, General Antilles and his crew have
defected.  They are now with us." finished Larn.
	A giant grey Wookiee in the back growled a comment, and his
battered translator droid spoke up.
	"Kakhbar asks how do we know this whole thing isn't a setup?"
said the robot.
	"If it is it's already too late," smirked Kryt, "unless you
haven't noticed."
	The Wookiee snarled at Kryt's sarcasm.
	"You can trust General Antilles," interjected Jabot Koraq,
"I've worked with him before.  I'd trust him with my life."
	Wedge gave Jabot a thankful nod.
	"If I may say something?" asked Wedge as he stood.  His right
leg was giving him trouble again.  Larn conceded the floor to the
older man.
	"Most of you are too young to remember the days of the Empire.
I joined the Alliance for exactly the same reason you have collected
together: to fight for freedom.  That is what I have always stood for
and that is what I stand for now.  The Republic has become exactly the
thing it was built to fight against, and I cannot stand by and let it
happen all over again."
	"Your record is well known General," said an armored
tough-looking black female human to the right of the Wookiee, "But you
are still a General in the Republic military.  What assurance do we
have that you are not a spy?  The computer records on your ship could
have been planted as part of a plot to fool us."
	"If it were anyone else," spoke up Jabot Koraq, "I'd agree
with you.  But Wedge Antilles would never betray his people.  This is
a great coup for us; a general, a distinguish war veteran, a hero of
historic proportion, has joined us.  We should celebrate and welcome
him.  As Kryt said, if this is a plot, we are already lost.  Our only
logical choice is to open our arms to our new allies.  They can only
make us stronger."
	The group seemed satiated by Jabot's words., Soon a general
consensus was reached--Wedge and his team would be welcome.
	Kakhbar the Wookiee woofed and nudged his droid.
	"Our first order of business is to try and warn State Head
Organa-Solo about the assassination plot." translated the droid.
	"I don't see why we should do her any favors." said the black
woman.
	The Wookiee turned to her.
	"Leia Organa-Solo is an honorable woman.  She has done much
for Kashyyyk and the Wookiee people.  She is a member of Our Lord
Chewbacca's honor-family and I shall protect her." translated the
Wookiee's droid.
	"But she is a Jedi!" protested the woman, "Surely she can take
care of herself."
	"This problem goes beyond the ability of a single Jedi to
combat." said Larn.
	"General, surely you must have some way of contacting her?"
asked Cori, "After all the years you've spent together?"
	"I'm afraid not." said Antilles, shaking his head, "When we
went about establishing the Republic we decided immediately that there
would be no covert activity in anything but the most extreme cases.
The way I'd contact her is the same way any other Republic citizen
would."
	"Then someone has to go back and warn her personally." said
Lamrin.
	"Are you kidding?" asked Kryt, raising a pierced eyebrow, "You
all are even more outlawed than us.  Who do you propose to send?  No
one here would be able to get near her."
	"He's right." said Wedge, "They'll have a web of security
around her so tight that she'll be completely cut off from anyone."
	"If only we had a Jedi." mumbled Lamrin.
	Several of the group, including Larn, turned and looked at the
young pilot.
	Lamrin looked up at the people staring at him.
	"Well I mean, couldn't a Jedi contact her somehow?"  asked
Lamrin.
	"Unless you know of any..." said Kryt, "It's useless
speculation."
	Cori, who had been staring at Larn all this time, noted his
sudden silence.
	The quiet contemplation of the group was suddenly shattered by
Amrit and Nin bursting into the bar.  Amrit ran to the center of the
group, her breathing heavy and a look of wild panic on her face.
	"It's Ryallt... he's in trouble!" she gasped.

			*  *  *

	The freighter Arcrunner lurched and bucked as it avoided
blinding ion fire and yet another failed attempt for the looming Star
Destroyer to get a tractor lock on it.
	Chanik Ipquus marched angrily along the bridge of the
Nighthunter, looking down into the recessed pit where a bank of
control boards were stationed.
	"What is taking so blasted long?" he barked to Captain
Johanson.
	Johanson turned, startled, looking fearfully into the single
eye of his crazed leader.
	"The pilot is proving to be more than we anticipated sir.
It's only a matter of time." said the Captain.
	Ipquus snarled and jumped into the pit as Johanson ducked.  He
grabbed the trooper technician sitting at a terminal, lifted him over
his head, and threw the struggling man to the above catwalk.
	"I want no more incompetent cowards!" Ipquus screamed to the
air as the armored man he just tossed stood up and retrieved his
fallen helmet.  Ipquus drew his rifle and shot the technician cleanly
through his chest.
	"But sir," Johanson meekly said, "All of these men were
trained as stormtroopers.  We're trying the best we can."
	"Not good enough." said Ipquus simply as he sat at the now
vacant console.  His hands began moving over the terminal at
surprising speed, keying through control sequences and attack vectors.

	Ryallt fought to retain his seat as the Arcrunner was buffeted
by another blast from the Star Destroyer's ion cannons.
	"They want prisoners." he said to himself, checking a readout.
His shields were almost gone.  Between the possibility of the ion fire
frying his electrical systems, and the constant attempts to lock a
tractor beam on the little ship, he knew his time was limited.  The
Ryll he has taken just after leaving Corellia had not yet worn off,
and he fought to think of a plan through the drug-induced haze.
	He touched the comlink stud behind his ear.
	"Amrit?  Can you hear me?" he yelled.
	There was nothing but static over the link.
	"Ya, twelve light years, sure." he mumbled.  He had managed to
get one distress call off to Amrit just after the Arcrunner had been
yanked out of hyperspace by the Interdictor.
	Suddenly the ship lurched violently, and warning alarms began
to sound around the ship.
	"Ahh!" Ryallt cursed as he realized they managed to lock a
tractor beam on him.  No way the Arcrunner's engines were strong
enough to break it.
	Ryallt jumped out of his seat and ran to a small chamber just
behind the cockpit.  There he began opening cabinets and drawers,
fumbling crazily with assorted bits of electronics.  Finally he found
what he was looking for: a small square device, covered with switches
and lights.  Ryallt punched in a quick sequence on a small keypad, and
fed the device into the Arcrunner's single torpedo bay.  Running back
to the cockpit, he jumped at the control board and hammered a fist
down on a switch.  The small module was launched just outside of the
influence of the tractor beam's pull, and came to a slow halt.
	Ryallt drew his blaster and looked outside the cockpit at the
massive bulk of the Imperial warship that was now filling the sky.
	Normally he would say something sarcastic at a time like this,
but Ryallt felt nothing but fear.

			CHAPTER 3

	Cori's eyes were fixed on the screen as she typed wildly on
the console on board the Windray.  Larn stood like a looming black
shadow behind her, following every key sequence.  Amrit paced
nervously in the control room, watched by Nin and Kryt.  Lamrin, Driaa
and Wedge had gone to see Uncle, to inform him of the distress signal
Amrit had received from Ryallt and see if they could get any
information about Ryallt's usual hyperspace routes.
	Cori grabbed a small hand-held device from a bracket and spun
in her chair to face Amrit.
	"Amrit, come here.  I need to try and run a check on the
origin of the signal Ryallt sent you." she said.
	Amrit approached Cori and allowed her to affix the device to
the area of her implant comlink.  After a few seconds the device
beeped softly and Cori removed it.
	"All I can tell is that this signal originated far from
Ryloth, towards Corellia." Cori reported after checking the data.
	"He said it was an Imperial Interdictor!" Amrit repeated for
the hundredth time.  She was shaking and in obvious distress.
	Larn turned to the young Twi'lek and held her by the
shoulders.
	"You must calm down," he said, looking her directly in the
eyes, "We have to establish exactly where Ryallt sent his signal from.
If he didn't give you coordinates then we could fly around for months
without finding him, and you know his unique hyperspace routes."
	Amrit took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.
	"That's what bothers me..." said Kryt, "Ryallt does have a
habit of using hyperspace routes that only he knows.  How did this
Interdictor know where to grab him then?  Just a coincidence?"
	"The odds against it are astronomical." said Cori, once again
swiveling her chair to face the group.  "Couldn't have been a random
trap either.  They would have placed their Interdictor by a well-known
hyperspace route for a trap.  The must have been waiting for him.
Wait a minute..."
	Cori swung her chair around again and began keying sequences
on the computer.
	"Damn it!" she said, "I can't get in to Uncle's communication
net.  It's too well encoded."
	Nin, who had been silent up to this point, clanked his way
over to Cori's console.
	"Allow me." he said as his computer arm popped out of his
torso and inserted itself into a socket.  He turned his huge
photoreceptors to Cori.  "I know my way around this net."
	The droid's computer arm spun and clicked in the socket, as
Cori and Larn watched the monitor with considerable admiration.
	"You..." said Cori to Nin, coming to a realization, "...you
were the one who broke into our system remotely!"
	"At your service." said Nin, raising a claw to his shiny
forehead and saluting.
	"Wait, that's it!" said Larn as he studied the screen.
	Amrit and Kryt crowded around the terminal as they read.
	"It was Uncle!" said Amrit, enraged, "But why?"
	None could deny it.  There, in the logs of Uncle's personal
communications, was a message sent to an Imperial transponder code
clearly giving hyperspace coordinates for the Arcrunner.
	"I'll tell you why." said a nasal voice from behind the group.
	They spun quickly, to be met with the image of Uncle and five
guards standing in the doorway, each brandishing a heavy blaster
rifle.
	"Doesn't anyone ever close the main hatchway?" Cori whispered
to herself.
	"The Imperials think they have a spy in my operation," said
the pig-faced gangster, "What they don't know it that spy is myself.
They want a hostage they can hold for ransom.  I have no intention of
giving them anything, and it was a great chance to rid myself of that
little pest."
	"So you just sent him into a trap?  They'll kill him!"  said
Amrit, balling her fists.
	"Exactly." said Uncle, a smile curling on his twisted lips.
	Kryt growled and moved toward Uncle.  At this, all five guards
instantly trained their rifle on Kryt, popping the safety and readying
for fire.
	"You will now come with me." said Uncle nonchalantly to the
group.
	Realizing there was no other choice, Cori, Larn, Kryt, Amrit
and Nin allowed themselves to be escorted out of the Windray.
	Upon reaching the concrete of the docking bay, they were met
with a dismal scene.  Three more guards with blaster rifles stood
surrounding Wedge, Driaa and Lamrin.  The situation seemed desperate.
The guards rounded everyone together and stood aside, allowing Uncle
to come forward and look over the group.
	"You did fool me for a while, but of course that was not to
last," the portly man was saying, obviously pleased with himself as he
paced up and down the group.  He stopped in front of Larn.  "It was
foolish of you and this Twi'lek to do your little espionage right here
in my own docking bay.  I had agents on you before you came within ten
meters of this place.  I have all of Ryallt's friends watched.  They
heard everything you found out about Mr. Artin, I mean, General
Antilles here."
	Uncle now moved towards Wedge.
	"It seems that you are in a bit of trouble General.  So sad.
You and your team seem to be condemned to a a life of outlaws.  But I
offer you an alternative." said Uncle.
	"Alternative?" asked Wedge with caution.
	"Commit yourselves to me as slaves.  If you do not, I will
execute you all." Uncle shrugged, "I hate to see such brilliant minds
wasted dealing with such scum as this." he said, waving towards Kryt.
	"Never!" exclaimed Wedge, "You will not get away with this."
	"You think I am not serious?" asked Uncle, stepping back from
the group and drawing a small blaster pistol, "Then perhaps a
demonstration."  Uncle looked over the group slowly.  Eventually, he
raised his pistol to aim at Cori.
	A wave of shock ran though the group, as they realized what
Uncle was about to do.
	Cori made a useless attempt to dive to the ground, knowing
full well she would never duck in time, only dimly aware of a swift
black streak racing past her.  Suddenly, a sharp hiss flared, a
blaster explosion rang out, and a man screamed for a second.  Cori
looked up from her now prostrate position on the dusty ground.  She
half-realized she hadn't been hit.
	There stood Larn opposite the group, blood streaming from his
temple, an ignited lightsaber in his hand.  One of Uncle's guards lay
beside him, most of the left side of his head had been sliced neatly
off, and lay a few feet away.  Uncle and the other guards stood
stunned for a second, not comprehending what had just happened.  Uncle
knew he fired at the girl, but his blaster bolt had been deflected
quicker than he could see.
	Wedge and the others were equally as stunned, but decided not
to question.  Driaa lunged for a distracted guard, grabbing him from
behind and choking him hard.  Shaken out of their surprise, Uncle's
guards began firing at the now scrambling anarchists.  Uncle himself
ducked behind one of the Windray's landing gear and began firing into
the bay.
	Nin was the first to make it to the exit, and turned to begin
firing with his built-in blaster at the guards.  Kryt and Lamrin made
it over to a group of cargo containers and dived behind them for
cover.  They then drew their own weapons and began firing.  Larn
grabbed the fallen guards' rifle and called to Cori, who had only just
managed to struggle to her feet.  Ducking to avoid the flying blaster
fire, Larn tossed the rifle to Cori, who grabbed it cleanly and shot a
guard square in the chest.  She then turned and ran with Wedge and
Amrit, who were making their way to the docking bay exit.  She turned
and called to Larn.
	"Go!  Get out of here!" Larn called back, executing a swift
spin and deflecting more blaster bolts aimed at him with his
lightsaber.  He suddenly jumped behind, throwing his body into three
perfect backflips and ending by bringing his lightsaber down on the
guard who had been aiming at Lamrin and Kryt.  The man had no time to
react before both hands were sliced away.  Larn spun like a dancer and
brought the blade of the saber through the guard's neck.  His head
rolled away, not having enough time to so much as scream.
	Driaa was still struggling with the guard he was choking, when
he caught sight of another guard taking aim on him.  The Rodian yanked
his guard around, and the bolt meant for him was caught by the guard's
torso.  The man went limp in his arms.  Driaa then wrapped his spindly
fingers around his service blaster and fired off a few rounds at the
guard who was firing at him.
	Larn still stood in the center of the bay, twirling and
pouncing like an acrobat, avoiding blaster fire and trying to give the
others enough cover to make it out.
	Suddenly, Kryt bellowed and dove out from behind the
containers.
	"Wait!" called Lamrin, but it was too late.
	Kryt was barreling through the bay like a mad Bantha, running
straight at one of the four remaining guards.  Before the guard could
fire, Kryt threw himself full-force at the man, catching him in a
violent tackle.  Kryt proceeded to bash the man's head into the
concrete ground.  Soon the stone was wet with blood, and the man
stopped struggling.
	Lamrin managed to get off a few shots, and hit a guard in the
arm.  The man screamed and ran from the docking bay, his loyalty to
Uncle obviously having reached it's limit.
	Driaa turned to face Lamrin and motioned for him to get to the
exit.
	"I'll cover you!  Go!" the Rodian called.
	Lamrin lunged into the bay, firing at the last two guards who
had taken cover.  He grabbed Kryt and together they made it out of the
bay.
	"Ready when you are!" called Driaa to Larn.
	"Let's go!" replied Larn, deflecting more bolts.
	As they reached the doorway, Driaa turned and leveled his
blaster at the last two guards.  With the skill of an expert marksman,
he picked them off from behind their cover.
	"I hate to leave a job unfinished." he said to Larn as the bay
fell silent.
	"So do I." came a female voice.
	Driaa and Larn turned to find Amrit standing behind them, her
long vibroblade in her hand.  She marched purposefully back into the
docking bay.
	Driaa was about to stop her, but was restrained by Larn.
	"Let her go." Larn said simply.
	Uncle whimpered as he cowered behind the landing gear of the
Windray.  Realizing that the firing had stopped, he cautiously poked
his head outside.
	"Looking for someone?" came a somber woman's voice from behind
him.
	Uncle yelped and spun to face Amrit.  He raised his shaking
pistol, but it was slapped out of his hand.  Amrit cuffed Uncle across
the chin with a mighty blow, and the fat man fell to the ground.
	Amrit stood towering over Uncle, one shapely leg on either
side of his shoulders.
	"This is for your slaves." she said.  In one swift move, she
dropped to her knees on Uncle's chest, causing him to woof as his
ribcage cracked.  She brought her vibroblade arcing over her head and
plunged it into Uncle's throat.  He bucked and spat blood for a
moment, gagging horribly. Soon, he was still.  Amrit rose and wiped
her blade on Uncle's purple robe.
	In silence, she walked out of the docking bay.

                        End of Part 1
                            To be continued...