Disclaimer: Still doesn't belong to me. :-(

Chapter 2

She fought the instinctual response to panic; that would be very un-Jedi of her, and wouldn't solve anything. Remembering her parents' and uncle's story about being pulled aboard the Death Star, it really wasn't hard to imagine that this could be worse.

The first step was to stretch out in the Force, see if she couldn't ascertain anything about the approaching situation; forcibly relaxing, she did just that, and felt her mind brush over a handful of sentient beings. It was difficult to say how many, but she was certain it was less than ten.

To her great surprise, Jaina did not sense any danger about her situation, now that she was calmed enough to analyze it more thoroughly. Her capabilities of reading people, given the distance and unfamiliarity, were limited at best- undoubtedly her Uncle Luke could do a much better job- but she caught the flickering of various emotions and none of them were hostility.

The foremost sense she picked up on from the old transport was anticipation, tinged with excitement; beyond that, various levels of hesitancy and more than a little fear… or perhaps just nervousness.

Trusting in her senses and knowing that there was little she could do otherwise, she started the landing sequence and then used her next two minutes wisely. "Artoo, come with me." She led him back to the cargo hold and found an open storage compartment. Quickly unclipping her lightsaber from her belt, she held it out and placed it inside the small chamber on the top of the droid's dome.

She had learned enough from her father over the years to know that one should never give away too much of their hand when there were still so many unknowns in the equation.

Hastily searching the storage bins of spare parts and equipment in the galley, she found what she was looking for and tucked it safely on a shelf in the compartment in the cargo hold. "Get in here, Artoo," she gestured to the open space. He trundled in, whistling a bit mournfully. "Stop that," she admonished. "Everything's fine. I just want to have a couple of tricks up my sleeve- just in case." He fit snugly in the compartment. "Lock yourself in," she ordered.

Once she was sure he had done so, she turned and sped towards the cockpit again, arriving in time to see the Shadow Chaser about to enter the small, but adequately-sized docking bay on the transport vessel. She fastened her utility belt around the waist of her brown flightsuit- including a hip holster and blaster- and prepared the rest of the shutdown procedure.

While waiting for the atmosphere stabilizers to readjust, Jaina took a few calming breaths. When the pressure seals unlocked, she felt two presences enter the hangar and an unbidden knot of nervousness twisted in her stomach. She tried to soothe it away as she stood shakily and headed for the hatch.

Double-checking that her blaster was handy- and set for stun, should she actually need it- she took another deep breath and pressed the button to release the seal, open the hatch, and extend the ramp. She was halfway down when she saw the two men striding slowly towards her, and she felt a mixture of the same emotions running through the Force, but with another present now too- awe.

One of the men- the one who seemed in charge, she thought- kept his expression schooled and his gaze focused on her. The other was staring up at the Shadow Chaser in fascination, and she frowned slightly. Sure, the quantum-crystalline armor was state-of-the-art, but it shouldn't have been that awe-inspiring to someone in the Imperial navy…

That's when she really looked at them. Sure, they were dressed in uniform, but something was definitely off.

Their uniforms were of a design that had been retired before she was born.

Before she could ponder this enigma too carefully, the men stopped several meters from her, as though unwilling to frighten her by coming too close. She strode a few more paces forward, making up some of the distance, but waited for someone to speak first.

The captain in charge spoke. "I sincerely apologize for our rude introduction," he said smoothly, "but we lack comm capabilities and it was vital that we contact you."

Jaina nodded slowly, taking in what details she could from the exchange.

The man smiled apologetically. "You are, understandably, confused. Let me introduce myself; I am Captain Gentyne, this is my deck officer, Lieutenant Bylsivik. And… are you alone?" he asked uncertainly, seeming to take in just how young she was.

"Yes," she said, striding forward and offering her hand. "My name is Jaina." She did not volunteer a last name, but neither seemed bothered by this. "And, begging your pardon but… you seem a little old to still be a deck officer, Lieutenant Bylsivik." Her voice was wry and the two men blinked and chuckled.

"Right you are," Bylsivik said, his voice low and serious, despite the mirth in his expression. "Perhaps you would accompany us to a more comfortable setting so that we might explain who we are, why we're here, and why we've so rudely dragged you aboard."

Briefly, she pondered demanding that they do so aboard her ship; but she sensed no hostile intent still, so she nodded. "Lead the way."

Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene. Scene .

They sat in a conference room of sorts. A sense of curiosity was permeating the ship, as well as a barely suppressed excitement that put Jaina on edge, even if she did not feel in harm's way.

"That is a very impressive shuttle you're flying," Bylsivik started casually. "Is it a new model?"

Jaina frowned. The design was distinctly Imperial in its origins, even if the armor and plating were decidedly novel. "Relatively," she replied slowly. "It's a few years old…"

Gentyne laughed softly. "Now, now Montif, let's give the girl something of an explanation before we start our own annoying questions." He turned and faced Jaina, face grave. "Jaina- you undoubtedly noticed how damaged- and old- this vessel is," he said questioningly.

"I… yes, I did… Rebellion era at least, I thought it was abandoned when I first saw it."

Gentyne shot a wry look at Bylsivik. "Era," he repeated. "You hear that, Montif? We're from an era." He turned to Jaina again. "You're quite right, of course. This ship was top design of its day, and its maiden voyage was… oh, around twenty-four years ago now."

"Twenty four standard years, seven months, twelve days," Bylsivik supplied automatically, and Gentyne grinned.

"Great how he can do that, isn't it? Anyway, the point is, its maiden voyage was also its only voyage."

Jaina frowned again. "I don't understand."

Gentyne smiled sadly. "You've seen the damage to the hull, probably better than we have. Our task was accomplished and we prepared to make the jump to hyperspace- and at the precise moment we began the jump, the ship suffered heavy impact and sensor damage, gravitic field readings scrambled… but it was too late. We were committed."

"What happened?"

Bylsivik shrugged, picking up the story. "Our hyperdrive coolant was leaking, the motivator damaged… we were dumped somewhere at random when the drive could handle no more. It would not have been necessarily a critical situation, had our subspace transceiver not have met the same fate as the motivator."

Jaina stared, pieces beginning to slowly- and horrifyingly- click into place. An old ship, outdated uniforms, men too old to still have the rank they did…

"You've been stranded in deep space for almost twenty-five years?" she demanded, losing her calm veneer. "That's not… I don't… how have you survived?"

"Ah," Gentyne stood, motioning the other two to do the same. "Do you know the purpose of an armored transport vessel?"

"Sure," Jaina said, confused, "carrying small numbers of troops, up to two dozen, designed to operate with minimal crew…"

The two men looked at each other, apparently impressed with her knowledge of archaic ships. "Indeed. Well this particular vessel was never meant to hold troops." He led her across a corridor and opened a hatch, revealing a large space that would normally have been designed to carry body armor, equipment, and weapons, not the mention the soldiers themselves. Instead, however, was a storage hold of space rations. "It was designed to be habitable for a long time."

Jaina walked in, amazed; she saw boxes and boxes of hydration tablets, nutri-pills, carbon-frozen and reduced meals… simple and dull fare, certainly, but enough to keep one person alive for many years.

But there were more than one person here. "You're almost out," she ascertained, judging that, from the number of presences she could feel and the size of the room, it had been chocked full once.

"Yes," Gentyne nodded. "We've rationed and been very diligent for a quarter century, but survival desperation can only get you so far. At first, we held out hope while we attempted repairs and hoped that somehow, someone might have been able to track our jump- but our mission was secretive, and the person who sent us on it probably thought we were destroyed in the blast."

"What blast?" Jaina shook her head, trying to clear it from the amazed fog that had overwhelmed her. "How was the ship crippled?"

She was still so intent on the storage room that she did not sense the approach of a third person.

"Tarkin," the man spat, and Jaina turned. The man was old- very old. His skin was wrinkled and he walked slowly, but his eyes were sharp and shone brightly in his outrage.

Gentyne nodded at the newcomer. "Perhaps we should start from the beginning…"

"Wait," Jaina's eyes were intent on the old man as the sensation in the Force intensified for an instant. There was something about him… "You said Tarkin," she prompted. "Wilhuff Tarkin?"

"The same murdering coward."

Some pieces were beginning to fall into place and Jaina couldn't decide if she was more hopeful that her conclusion was right or that it was wrong. "You were damaged when Alderaan was destroyed, weren't you?"

A brief flicker of pain flowed through her mind. "Yes," Bylsivik murmured softly.

"But… why wouldn't the Empire clear out its own personnel before...?" but he said it was a secret mission…

"They didn't know we were there," Gentyne reminded her gently. "We landed and took off from the far side of the planet and used the land mass to mask our presence. Those were our orders."

Orders… "From who?"

"A close friend of mine from the Imperial Academy," Gentyne looked briefly wistful. "A captain named Pellaeon."

Jaina started. "I know him… I mean, I know of him," she corrected carefully. "Why would he send you to Alderaan in a ship that had enough rations to feed an entire army for a year?"

"He anticipated the possibility that at least some of those on the ship would be on the run from the Empire for a long time."

"Why?" Jaina breathed. "What did he send you to do?"

Gentyne considered her a moment before answering. "Pellaeon heard rumors of Tarkin's intentions, and he had a deep respect for the Alderaanian Viceroy and his late wife, the queen, as well as their daughter, who was an up and coming senator; I was closer, in Kuat. He arranged for the ship to be outfitted in this peculiar manner and asked if I could assemble a small crew whom I trusted- and he sent us to try to recover the Viceroy before Tarkin could carry out his plans."

Time did a funny thing where it seemed to freeze and speed up, all at once.

"And did you succeed?" her voice was low and shaky.

A gruff laugh rang out from across the room. Jaina turned slowly, almost fearfully back to the old man. "If you call this success."

And Jaina knew exactly who she was looking at and why the Force had brought her here.

A/N: Thanks for continuing to read… hope you're still intrigued! ;-)

More soon,

*~Lexi~*