I woke to an empty bed. My heart sank as I realized Hobbie wasn't just in the 'fresher. His clothes were gone and the bed beside me was cold.

Somehow I had thought this morning would go differently. The memory of his body on mine brought a rush of warmth and renewed desire. Cherished. That was the word I would use. I had felt cherished last night.

I could have sworn he had felt it too.

As I stared at the empty space beside me and berated myself for being such an idiot, Hobbie stuck his head in the room. "You're up? Good. We got breakfast for you."

He looked longingly at my naked form still stretched on the bed and stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the bed beside me and ran his hand up my thigh and over the curve of my hip.

I smiled at this sudden reversal of fortune and reached up to caress his cheek. He leaned down and gave me a sweet good morning kiss, then smacked me on the rear, making me jump. "Come on out and join us. We have to talk."

He left as abruptly as he had come in and I was once again floundering, my head spinning with confusion. My head ached, mostly from morning-after misery because I hadn't had all that much alcohol last night. What had I been thinking?

I dragged myself to the shower and quickly washed, dried and dressed. I couldn't shake the longing for Hobbie to return but I tried valiantly to talk myself into believing it didn't matter because it was, after all, just fun. I'm sure he never intended it any other way. He was probably just passing through on some Rebel mission, hiding from the Empire and eager to find a warm, friendly bed for the night.

I braced myself to face Hobbie in the full daylight.

Hobbie, Wes and Spike were sitting around the table munching on pastries and exchanging friendly jabs. I watched the camaraderie that flew so easily between the three with a quiet despair. I was happy for Spike – she deserved this time with her childhood friend and a man she enjoyed - but I was tired of the diversion and ready to get back to work. I couldn't check the results of the trace analytics program while they were here and I was anxious to know if it found anything. I was good at my work. I knew what I was doing at my work. I couldn't say the same when it came to men.

I smiled gamely and sat down at the table, taking a pastry for myself. Spike sent me a questioning look and quirked her eyebrows at me. I wasn't sure if she wanted to know whether I had a good time last night or if she was trying to let me know she did.

"Good morning, everybody." I tried to sound cheerful.

I had almost finished my pastry before I realized they were all just sitting there looking at me.

"What?" I queried, looking down to make sure I had dressed appropriately. "What are you guys looking at?"

The three of them looked at each other. "Why don't you start?" Hobbie asked Spike.

I looked at Spike with a sinking feeling. Whatever it was, it didn't feel like it would be anything good.

She pursed her lips and looked at me. "First, Nya, you have to know I believe them and I trust them."

"Ok." I said cautiously. "And?"

She took a deep breath. "Nya, they're with the Rebel Alliance.

I looked back and forth between Wes and Hobbie. "Umm, yeah, I figured that." Was that all it was?

"You did?" Hobbie's arm dropped on the table.

Spike rolled her eyes at Hobbie's obtuseness and continued as if Hobbie hadn't spoken. "They want me to help them."

"Help them?" I froze. "Help them how?"

"Remember those droid parts I said we were here to pick up?" Hobbie's smooth voice tweaked the knot in my gut, pulling it even tighter.

I nodded mutely.

"Well, it's not exactly droid parts and we're not exactly paying for them."

I kept nodding, bobbing my head like one of those silly toy dolls, just because I didn't know what else to do. My head was spinning, trying to work out the possibility of exposure from these guys. If Maar or anyone else knew they were here and even suspected they were Rebels, I didn't want to be caught in whatever scheme they had going.

Plus, I had to admit I was still smarting from Hobbie's unceremonious departure from my bed this morning. I know it was just fun, but he didn't have to be so cavalier about it. Would a little sensitivity have killed him?

They sat there quietly, waiting expectantly.

Gently, Hobbie said, "Ok?"

I nodded, trying hard not to lose it. "Ok. No problem."

"No problem?" Hobbie seemed puzzled.

His reaction inexplicably angered me and I snapped back at him. "Yes, no problem! I get it. We won't get in your way. We won't betray you. Ok?"

Spike kicked Hobbie under the table and he grunted. "You are such a nerf herder, Hobbie!"

She turned back to me. "Nya, I haven't committed to anything. I've only been listening."

Her emphasis on the word listening told me she hadn't said anything to them about our mission.

A connection suddenly clicked in my soppy brain that I'm sure Spike had already made. The excess supplies being siphoned off by Maar would be much better put to use by the Rebels. Plus, they would be easier to steal. I sent Spike a wordless question.

Spike nodded her assent. "I think you should speak for yourself."

I sat there for a few moments, absorbing the situation and thinking this through. I had left the decision as to whether to say anything last night in Spike's hands because at that point, it was just a security issue. Now it had become an operational issue presenting yet another mission creep problem and as such, this was my call. This time, though, I could tell Spike approved of the diversion.

"So…you want Spike's help because you're here to raid the Fabritech facility where she works?"

Hobbie and Wes nodded silently.

"What do you need?"

Hobbie looked surprised at my question. "We have a shopping list but mostly we want the sensor equipment."

"The 5d Full-Spectrum Transceivers or the 9q Sensor Systems?

"The transceivers," Wes answered slowly, obviously not expecting me to be up on my starfighter equipment. I wouldn't have been, either, if it hadn't been for the production requests and the so-called 'surplus' lists that Maar had been generating.

I remembered that Hobbie had trained as a TIE fighter pilot. "You're still flying, then?" I was being short with him, I knew, but my gut was still twisted painfully and my patience was razor thin.

Spike, on the other hand, couldn't restrain her pride. "My boy here is a hotshot fighter pilot for the Alliance!" She grinned her pleasure and patted Wes' knee beside her. "Turns out so is Gunner here."

"So you came to the tapcafé last night to recruit Spike to help you raid a highly secure Imperial sub-contractor's facility?"

"Yes."

If they only realized just how appropriate that role would have been for Spike! No wonder she wanted to help them.

"How did you know she was there?"

Wes answered that one. "We've been surveilling ­­­the facility for a few days now. Hobbie recognized her." He smirked at Spike. "We actually met two days ago. I ran a trial insertion and you let me walk right in."

"Hmmph." Spike was unimpressed. "Getting in the front door is not difficult. Getting your hands on some product is going to require a lot more than that."

Nevertheless, it chilled me to know we had been watched for several days and neither of us had known it. It made me worry about who else could be easily watching us.

"If it's Spike's help you want, why do you need me? Why didn't you just catch her alone?"

Hobbie looked down awkwardly. "Well, we're kind of on a time crunch and you two are always together, so we went with it."

Which meant I was just the third wheel. Just as I had suspected. Actually, I was the fourth wheel that was paired off out of nothing more than convenience and happenstance.

"I see." I blinked harshly at the pressure building in my eyes, trying to separate my personal feelings from my job. "I'm sorry for getting in your way then."

His eyes darkened at that and color brightened his cheeks. "You didn't get in my way, Nya."

"Not yet, but I will."

Hobbie's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I'm sorry, Spike, but I can't let you help them raid the Fabritech facility. The risk of exposure is too great."

I was mad. I just wasn't sure if I was mad at Hobbie or mad at myself.

It was childish, I know. But it hurt like hell and I couldn't keep my irritation from showing. I sat rigid in my chair, trying to look like the confident mission leader I was supposed to be rather than the petulant amateur I felt like.

Spike looked disappointed. I could tell she was looking forward to some more of her kind of fun but it was just too risky. I was confident of that decision at least, even if my delivery left something to be desired.

"You can't let her?" Hobbie directed his question at both me and Spike. His eyes were narrowed and his gaze flit back and forth between us. "Ok, what am I missing?"

I took a deep breath. I knew he wasn't going to like this and despite my pique at his rude morning-after manners, I had no desire to be spiteful.

"All you need to know is that we are on the same side but I have other objectives. I can't risk exposure."

Hobbie stiffened suddenly, inhaling sharply, his eyes wide. Wes shot up from his chair, muttering and running his hand through his hair. "Son of a Sith!" Wes swore softly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Spike grinned maliciously. "Relax, flyboy. You had a hell of a time, didn't you?" She winked at him and sassily blew him a kiss. "Be a good boy for me and maybe there will be more."

Her grin faded as she turned back to see Hobbie's face still shocked at the revelation. Her sharp, calculating look returned as she set her elbows on the table and leaned in ominously toward Hobbie.

"There are only four reasons I can think of why you would disappear like that." Spike counted them off on her fingers. "You're obviously not dead and I knew you weren't the type to be an Imperial deep cover spy, so that left only criminal activity or the Rebellion."

She threw a glare at Wes. "I was kind of hoping I had myself a couple of devilishly handsome low-life smugglers to hang around with, but you two made it pretty obvious you were smarter than that."

Hobbie looked apologetic. "I've underestimated you, Spike."

Spike pursed her lips and looked like she was going to snap at him, but instead she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I've got just one question." She paused, looking like she was searching for the right words or trying to avoid the wrong ones.

When she continued, her voice was pitched low, pain scratching her throat as she revealed the depth of the wound inflicted by the Imperial invasion.

"Where were you, Hobbie?" Her face was deadly calm but her eyes accused Hobbie with a fierce rebuke. "Where were you when the Imperial fleet bombarded Ralltiir, Hobbie? Where were you when the Stormtroopers marched in the streets of Cambrielle and my father was forced into an internment camp?" Her hands tightened into fists and she looked away as if she couldn't bear to see him. "Where were you when Ralltiir needed you, Hobbie? Where were you when I needed you?"

She drew a ragged breath but she wasn't done yet, her anger now animating every angle of her face "Were you flying those TIEs that strafed innocent civilians, driving them like nerf herds?" Her hands flung wide, gesturing wildly at the scene that was etched permanently in her memory.

"Were you flying the TIEs that destroyed a medical center, killing hundreds of completely helpless patients and doctors?" I gasped at the reference to the attack that had killed my mother.

"How far did you go before you started defending Ralltiir, Hobbie, instead of helping the Empire destroy it?"

Hobbie's chair was propelled backward, scraping loudly on the floor. In one motion he whipped his shirt from his body and pointed to the scar on his arm. "This! This is where I was when Cambrielle was bombarded. I lost a kriffing arm leading a mutiny on my Imperial ship and defecting to the Rebellion!"

In another motion, he stepped out of his pants and displayed a still healing scar on his leg. "This! This is where I was when the Stormtroopers were marching in the streets. I lost a leg liberating X-Wings so people like Wes and I could fight for places like Ralltiir!"

He stood in his skivvies in the middle of our kitchen, breathing heavily from indignation. His face was flushed red and his voice was raw. His muscles clenched from the effort to hold himself tightly under control. "I saw the same evil you saw, Spike. I saw the corruption and the lust for power and the complete disregard for life of all kinds, and for the first time in my life I saw that the galaxy was bigger than I was."

He leaned over the table, matching Spike's unyielding posture. "The Alliance is bigger than me, Spike. It's bigger than you; it's bigger than Ralltiir, even. A lot of good people have died. A lot of good friends have died trying to save places like Ralltiir. If we can't rid the galaxy of the Empire itself – the whole kriffing Empire, Emperor and all - then Ralltiir has no chance of ever being truly free. No chance at all!"

An agonized silence swooped into the room in the wake of Hobbie's fervent speech. It perched on our shoulders and pecked with an exquisite clarity and empathy at the passions that had been stirred. No one dared speak or even breathe.

Finally, Spike let out a deep, shaky sigh. "I care about Ralltiir first." Her voice was still ragged, but her fury had calmed and the tension in her body was fading. "Now put your clothes back on, Hobbie. You're turning me on." Her dry tone was as much humor as she could muster at the moment.

Hobbie just stared back at her, not laughing in the slightest. "I will put my clothes on if you tell me your real story, Spike. What happened? How is it you are here on a Rebel mission? How does Nya fit in here?"

My eyes were blurry from the rush of emotion of the moment. Whatever Hobbie's bedside manner, he was obviously an extremely dedicated and loyal freedom fighter for the whole galaxy. He hadn't abandoned Ralltiir after all. His defense of his actions had revealed a profound conviction in him that matched Spike's in depth and strength, if not exuberance.

I decided to go ahead and pull up the data I had gathered on my comp station. Giving them information about Maar's stash wouldn't impede my mission at all.

"They killed my Pop, Hobbie." Spike's voice was full of pain and distress. "What was I supposed to do?" She looked as close to tears as I had ever seen her. "You loved him, too, didn't you?"

Hobbie nodded, his eyes closing momentarily in remorse as he moved to comfort her but she shrugged him off. "I found the Rebels and started hitting everything I could. We took out several garrisons, shot down a couple dozen TIEs – and I prayed to the Maker every time that you weren't in one of them, by the way. We even took out several AT-AT's and that's not easy to do, let me tell you! We took on their stormtroopers at every opportunity, but they just kept coming. Governor Graeber rules Ralltiir now, with a cruel hand and a merciless heart. I can and will do everything in my power to oppose him!"

"I understand." Hobbie said simply. He kneaded the tense muscles in her shoulders and she finally allowed him to hug her. They stood there for a long minute, two old friends comforting each other.

"Sorry I had to do that," Spike sniffed, turning back to Wes and apologizing sweetly. She smiled shyly at Wes, turning her impish charm back on with the flip of a switch. "I really did enjoy last night. Forgive me?"

Wes ran his fingers through his hair, then grinned ruefully. "Aw, hell, babe, nothing to apologize for. Just two Rebels out for a little fun, eh?" He pulled her in for a comforting squeeze that quickly turned into a deep, lusty kiss.

I shook my head, amazed at the ease with which they sloughed off their pain and reveled in the moment. Sometimes I envied Spike her boisterous spirit, despite the fact that I knew it to be just a salve for deep wounds. I wished I could be that carefree. I wished it didn't matter that last night had been just a casual fling for Hobbie. I wished I could just be satisfied with a night of fun with a great guy. I wished I didn't feel everything so deeply. But I wasn't satisfied and I did feel it deeply. So much for harmless fun.

"I've got something for you." I motioned to Hobbie, Wes and Spike to come over as I sat at my comp station and slowly scrolled through the trace patterns the analytics program had detected.

"I'm not sure I understand what I'm looking at." That was Hobbie from over my right shoulder.

"I'm sure you don't!" Wes snorted from my left.

"That's ok," Spike assured him, fluffing his hair with her hand. "You cross jockeys are just here for muscle. My girl can handle the tough mental work. Isn't that right, Nya?"

I barely smiled at her teasing, concentrating on the screen in front of me.

"It's a trace record of the communications my section leader, Sgt. Maar, has been receiving."

I explained to Hobbie and Wes how I had found discrepancies in the accounting entries between the facility production figures and the incoming Imperial orders. More material was being manufactured and transferred to the Empire than the Empire was actually receiving.

"The requisitions you said you saw." Hobbie was nodding thoughtfully. I was impressed that he had been listening, let alone remembered that small comment.

"I asked Sgt. Maar about it and he said he would take care of it. Then he re-assigned me to audit the maintenance records of the garrison's housekeeping droids."

"Barve." Spike interjected spitefully.

"Needless to say I was miffed." I admitted. "I insisted that an audit needed to be done and an investigation started. He outright threatened me then, telling me to stay out of it and keep my mouth shut or I would disappear."

"He'll pay for that." Spike spat out through gritted teeth.

"So I played dead, convincing him he had me thoroughly intimidated and that I wouldn't bring it up again. Then I sliced into his personal accounts and got this." I waved a hand at the comp station.

"You sliced into his personal accounts?" Hobbie asked warily.

"Nya's the best slicer on the Southern Continent, maybe even all Ralltiir." Spike said proudly. I just rolled my eyes at her. She liked to brag like that. The truth was slicing into a personal account – even one with extra encryption like Maar's - had been easy compared to the bank slicing I'd been doing.

"Don't worry." I reassured Hobbie. "I've been doing this since I was nine. My father was the best bank fraud investigator on all of Ralltiir. He taught me everything I know."

I handed him a datapad and keyed up a list of files. "I found extensive and thorough documentation of shipments and warehouse inventories that exactly matched the discrepancies between production and export. I also found careful calendar entries detailing deliveries and pick-ups."

"He's running a black market operation." Wes declared. "Skimming off the top."

"Kriffing Hutt slime." Spike was on a roll.

"That's how I know where you can find your sensor transceivers. He should probably have some stored in his warehouse or will be shipping some out soon. It'll be easier to raid his warehouse or one of his shipments than it will be to try to get in to the Fabritech facility."

"That's what I'm talking about." Wes interjected with feeling. "Gotta love Intelligence!" He made the comment a double entendre and smiled at me warmly. I blushed at his compliment and realized guiltily that I wasn't immune to his charms.

"The thing is," I continued, ducking my head quickly away from Wes and turning back to the comp station. "There's no way he could have planned all this. I'm sure someone else, someone with a lot more access than Maar, is sending him this information and telling Maar what to do." I switched back to the analytics program I had run last night with the tracking codes I had pulled out of the mainframe

"He's mean but he's dumb." Spike declared. "He couldn't do this on his own."

"Sithspit!" I cursed and gaped at the results of the analytical program that flashed on my screen. Slapping my forehead with one hand, I pointed with the other at the display that summarized Maar's communication traces. They had been backtracked through multiple routings to the originating comp station and collated according to source and proximity, then cross-referenced with the Imperial master computer identification codes. There was no doubt about it.

"General Lapier." I groaned. "It's the kriffing Imperial Commander himself!"

"That son of a bantha!" Spike looked like she was ready to blast him right then and there. "I guess raiding Ralltiiri banks isn't enough for him."

"Spike!" I warned reflexively, frowning at her uncharacteristic lapse in security. I felt Hobbie's gaze on me.

"Nya," he said. "We can help you if you let us. This is the Rebel Alliance after all. We should all be helping each other as much as possible."

I studied his demeanor cautiously. He appeared completely sincere, serious about his cause and his mission. There was no sign of his earlier flippancy toward our personal interactions.

Spike didn't look like she regretted her comment. She leaned against the counter with her arms crossed and her forehead furrowed deeply in disgust.

"He's my mission." I admitted. "Lapier is my mission."