Chapter Eight

Rastaphor, the Bith supervisor of the Alliance safehouse, was furious. He had recently been informed by a nervous subordinate that Corellian authorities were restricting transports to and from the system, and that direct clearance was required from CorSec to leave or approach Corellia proper.

Ordinarily, this would not have been the end of the world, but shortly thereafter, he had also received a secure transmission from Colonel Raven, his superior, informing him that he had to evacuate all his personnel from the planet within forty-eight hours.

And then his most promising informant, Ran Tonnor, vanished without a trace hours before he was supposed to be extracted by a security team. This fiasco was getting completely out of hand, and his frustration was showing.

Stalking down a hallway, Rastaphor watched as men and women, and a few aliens, scrambled about with equipment and crates. He had every confidence that the evacuation would go smoothly, if it weren't for the quarantine.

Rastaphor went downstairs and through the art gallery, into the courtyard outside that served to separate his compound from the street. The doorman, who was actually an Alliance commando, was admitting his security team that had gone to meet Tonnor.

Elohirnok led the way, accompanied by a dirty looking man with stooped posture. Jarringly, there was a polished attache case secured to the stranger's wrist. Right behind the stranger came Sventrare, looking about as though he expected to be ambushed at any moment.

Rastaphor walked up, holding out his hand to Elohirnok, "Very good work there."

He turned to the newcomer, "You must be Stefan Del Versio, I'm glad to have you here."

Stefan chuckles, "I hope it's not that obvious who I am, I did put some effort into this disguise."

Rastaphor nods, "Disguises are my specialty, but it did help to know you were coming."

Sventrare steps forward, "Supervisor, with your permission, we would like to leave immediately to take this man to Coruscant."

Rastaphor wrinkles the flaps on his cheeks, frustrated, "I wish things could be that easy. Unfortunately, I've just learned that CorSec is checking all outgoing traffic. It's impossible to take off without proper authorization."

Thrash fumes, "What? That's absurd, this is Corellia! No one keeps a Corellian planetside."

Stefan looks down thoughtfully, "There's a storm brewing, that's for sure."

Looking back at Rastaphor, he continues, "You're certain that there's no way you can smuggle me off the planet? I'm afraid that all of my own assets cannot be trusted for this task. It's only a matter of time until my associates learn of my... change of allegiances."

Rastaphor shakes his head, "If I could, my first responsibility would be to get my own people out. I'm afraid that it would draw too much attention to call in that many favors at once, making everyone here vanish."

Stefan's expression darkens, "The information I have is valuable beyond reason. I came here with the understanding that you recognized that value."

Rastaphor looks at Stefan with his large, black eyes, probing, "Give me that data, and I will see what can be done. I assume that's it?" He points to the attache case.

"Not so fast. You'll have the data when I know how I'm getting out of here."

"You'll have to be patient, I've already told you that my hands are quite full."

Elohirnok tilts his head to the side and motions for Rastaphor to follow him as he takes several steps away from the group. When Rastaphor steps over, he leans down and speaks quietly, "I couldn't mention the details over an open comm, but this guy's the real deal. He was at the top level of a conspiracy that appears to run to the very heart of the Corellian government."

"I assumed as much, but there really isn't a lot I can do. I've had priority instructions from command to evacuate and freeze my operations. We were given a forty-eight hour window."

Behind them, a look of realization dawns on Thrash's face, "Hey, wait a minute! I know a guy here, he can get us a ship that has no connections to anyone here. We can take that."

Stefan looks condescendingly at him, "I admire your pluck, boy, but that still doesn't get us past the restricted launch authorizations."

Elohirnok hooks his thumbs into his belt, and looks at Thrash, "This guy, can he get us a decent ship? One that'll fly well, preferably with some punch?"

Nodding eagerly, Thrash responds, "Yeah, I saved his life at Corulag. He'll give us whatever we ask for."

Sventrare approaches Rastaphor, "With respect, supervisor, I have given my word to take this man safely to Coruscant. As a member of the Jedi Order, I am only an auxiliary to the Intelligence department. While I would appreciate your blessings in our departure, I feel obliged to make use of Thrash's offer to fulfill my promise."

Rastaphor shrugs, "Not much I can do, really. You and the rest of Special Missions Team are hereby charged to evacuate Corellia and return this person of interest to Coruscant, with his data. I can't take responsibility for anything that happens to you from here on out, so good luck and may the Force be with you."

Thrash grins from ear to ear.

…

General Wedge Antilles had been with the Rebel Alliance as a pilot, flying against the Death Star. Since then, he had fought for the New Republic, and become an officer in the fleet. When the Vong invaded, he weathered the worst of it alongside his men, and stood by the reformatted Alliance after the fall of Coruscant. His entire life had come to be defined by his service to this organization, and now they spat on him.

Wedge stood on the balcony of his penthouse, near the heart of Coruscant, the Senate District. Miles up, he had quite the view, although it was very different than it once was. The Vong had destroyed a huge portion of the cityscape, and reconstruction efforts were only just getting off the ground. Taking a sip from the glass he held in his hand, Wedge fumed silently.

That morning he had received a message that he was relieved of his command of the Second Fleet, and instructed to stand by for further orders. No explanation was offered, but Wedge knew. His homeworld, Corellia, was on the brink of revolt. Admiral Niathal was readying the Fourth Fleet, in case the situation escalated.

Personally, Wedge sympathized with his fellow Corellians. They hated to feel controlled, and lately the Alliance was being very controlling. But as a military man, Wedge respected the hard discipline of the Alliance. The government worked well, it had stood strong against the Yuuzhong Vong invasion, and now it was binding the galaxy's wounds up.

That was an expensive job, but Corellia had enjoyed a peace that few worlds knew during the war, and was one of the few industrial worlds left unscathed by the conflict. It was only fair that they pay a part of the butcher's bill.

However, to have his integrity questioned like this was outrageous. He couldn't prove anything, but he was certain that Admiral Niathal had personally ordered his dismissal.

Turning around and walking inside his apartment, Wedge went over to the kitchen and drained his glass in a single gulp. Setting the glass down by the sink, he turned on a holodisplay to watch the news.

His apartment was well furnished, and in his youth Wedge would have laughed at the suggestion that he might one day have such a luxurious suite to himself. Now, he barely noticed it.

Sitting down on a wide couch, he watched as the Senate voted on a measure introduced earlier in the day. It was a bill to authorize further spending on the reconstruction projects, but it also included some very harsh measures for enforcing the taxes it included on planetary governments. Corellia had been boycotting the initial spending measures for almost two years now, and this measure was intended to put an end to that.

An irritating chime came from the holodisplay, someone was trying to reach him. Reluctantly, Wedge reached over and put the call through. Jacen Solo, replete in his Galactic Alliance Guard armor and brown Jedi robe, appeared before him.

"General Antilles, good afternoon."

"I'm certain you know it's anything but, Master Solo."

Jacen's expression betrays nothing as he continues, "Be that as it may, General, I have some stern news for you."

Wedge scowls, "Get on with it."

Jacen looks Wedge straight in the eyes as he says, "Wedge Antilles, I am hereby suspending your rank in the Alliance Navy. Until further notice, you are to take a leave of absence, without pay or other benefits."

Wedge explodes, "What in the name of Malachor are you talking about? You certainly don't have that authority!"

Jacen continues, his face like a statue's, "As commander of the Galactic Alliance Guard, I have every authority. Pending further investigation into the matter of the Corellian insurgency here on Coruscant, you are to be placed on probationary status."

"They're not bloody Corellians! Those Hutt-scum are nothing more than paid cronies, and you know it, Jacen!"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Antilles." The call is terminated without another word.

Wedge slumps back into his seat, stunned.

…

Walking back to the airspeeder with a set of starship ignition codes in his hand, Elohirnok turned to Thrash, "That's a hell of a friend you have there."

Thrash laughs, "See why I couldn't just let him get killed by the Vong?"

They climb into the airspeeder, joining Sventrare, Haytham, and Stefan. Sventrare leans forward and smiles, "From the looks on your faces, I assume that your meeting was successful?"

Elohirnok smiles grimly, "Yeah, now we just get to see how sharp the Corellian air defense gunners are."

Sventare's smile fades, "You really think you can fly out of here, Lieutenant? We can find a safer way if need be."

Starting up the airspeeder, Elohirnok responds without looking back, "I would be insulted if I didn't know you were just concerned for our safety, Sven."

Handing his personal comm to Thrash, Elohirnok says, "Call Lachance, tell him to meet us at the spaceport."

Haytham chimes in, "Speaking of our sullen killer, where exactly has he been?"

Elohirnok answers, "Just exploring, he said he was looking into something and would catch up before we left."

Haytham looks horrified, "You turned him loose? With a gun?"

Elohirnok chuckles quietly, "Yeah, I know. He's probably killed ten people by now."

Sventrare's eyes widen, "Lieutenant, I hope you are joking. You didn't really authorize him to do that, did you?"

Elohirnok smiles evasively, "Maybe he thought I did, it's not like I told him precisely not to, either."

Savoring the look of consternation on Sventrare's face, Elohirnok pilots the airspeeder to the spaceport. Locking the console, Elohirnok gets out and looks around. There is something of an uproar outside the spaceport as disgruntled travellers exchange shouted arguments with the port authorities.

Thrash kneads his eyebrows together, brooding, "They shouldn't be closing the spaceports. This is ridiculous."

Stefan leans over and says helpfully, "It's just a precaution. They're probably looking for me, really. I'd say this is quite practical, given the information I'm savvy to."

Thrash looks him over suspiciously, "And you're just selling your friends out, is that it?"

"Well, technically we're not friends. It was more an alliance of convenience, if that helps you justify this to yourself. And I am defecting to your side, if you recall."

"There are no sides here, Mr. Del Versio. Corellia is part of the Alliance. Your associates are criminals and terrorists, nothing more."

Stefan's expression softens and he winces, "They're a little more than that, I'm afraid."

Elohirnok leans against the airspeeder and looks around, taking in the expanse of the spaceport. The entrance is a wide, low archway, carved to represent some distant heroes of Corellia's past. This spaceport itself is one of the smaller ones in Coronet city, but still covers several city blocks.

As he looks around, searching for a service entrance or other means of accessing the spaceport, Lachance strolls casually towards them, accompanied by a terrified looking young man with wild black hair. The young man is wearing a suit, but it is scuffed and dusty, and the man's face has several fresh bruises blossoming on it.

Lachance jerks his thumb at his companion, "This is Tonnor. Took a little effort to procure him, but I thought I'd bring him along."

Elohirnok's jaw almost drops, and he whips around to examine Tonnor, "I'll be damned, the genuine article."

Lachance shrugs and points to the spaceport, "I took the liberty of poking around while I waited. There's an employee's entrance around the side we can use, I slipped an access card off a janitor who was leaving."

Stefan smiles, "Most impressive," He looks around at the group, "Shall we be going? It's going to get considerably more dangerous to be in my company until we're safely away."

Sventrare nods emphatically, "Yes, let us get inside as quickly as possible. We'll use force to get to the ship if we have to."

Haytham raises an eyebrow, trading surprised glances with Elohirnok.

As the group moves towards the spaceport, Stefan hangs back near Tonnor, who is clearly shocked to see him. Tonnor whispers, "Mr. Del Versio, I'm - I'm very pleased to see you."

Stefan smiles coldy, "How fortunate that our paths should cross again, Ran."

…

Inside the spaceport, they move quickly towards the docking bays. Sventrare and Thrash lead the way, shouldering their way through the crowd. When they reach the gates that lead to the docking bays, Haytham steps forward.

A kindly old dock worker is manning the turnstile at the gate, and he looks sympathetically at Haytham, "Master Jedi, I'm afraid that I can't let you through."

Haytham smiles, "I understand, my good man. I'm already cleared, as are my companions. We're authorized by special directive of the Jedi High Council. It's urgent that we get to our ship before the crisis worsens."

The grandfatherly man frowns, "Crisis? There's no crisis, this is just a temporary hold on traffic."

"You understand, of course, that I can't reveal confidential information, but this is quite serious. I called for quarantine, you see."

Looking terribly confused, the old man replies, "Master Jedi? I don't understand. What..."

Raising a hand and smiling compassionately, Haytham says, "Sir, your sincere civic service is admirable. I wish I could explain but there really is no time. We must get to our ship."

"If you say so, Master Jedi. Good luck with your mission."

Haytham leads them through the gate and they hurry off towards the docking bay where their ship awaits them. As they round the corner, a security officer approaches the old man and begins questioning him, pointing at Haytham.

Elohirnok mutters, "Here we go," and breaks into a run. The rest of the group follows, with Stefan straightening up and sprinting to keep up. Behind them the security officer grabs his communicator and begins yelling into it.

As they reach the docking bay, alarms begin to sound throughout the spaceport and magnetic shields activate above the docking bays to prevent ships from taking off. Ahead of them, a beautiful Corellian ship sits in the docking bay. It has several laser turrets on its hull and the sleek design speaks of elegance and speed.

Elohirnok runs up and lowers the loading ramp, rushing aboard and heading for the cockpit. Haytham and Sventrare stay near the entrance to the docking bay, drawing their lightsabers. Stefan, Tonnor, Lachance, and Thrash hurry aboard after Elohirnok.

As Elohirnok runs down the corridor at the top of the loading ramp, he shouts to Thrash, "The magnetic shields are up, but the local power couplings are still vulnerable!"

Thrash skids to a halt, "What?"

"Get on a gun turret and do what I say!"

Stefan and Tonnor head to one of the crew compartments as Thrash rushes towards the center of the ship, looking for one of the turret controls. Inside the cockpit, Elohirnok plugs in the ignition codes and begins rapidly clicking switches and punching buttons as the ship's engines roar to life.

Outside, a dozen security officers run towards the docking bay, brandishing blaster rifles. Haytham and Sventrare ignite their lightsabers and adopt defensive stances as they open fire, sending blue stun rings crackling through the air.

Sventrare ducks and weaves, his green lightsabers twirling around him as he deflects the stun blasts that come close to him. Haytham stands still, holding his lightsaber in front of him one-handed, moving only when necessary to avoid a blast.

The security officers fan out across the entrance to the docking bay, pouring out fire from their rifles. Sventrare spins through the air, laughing as he easily deflects their blasts. Spinning his lightsabers with his upper arms, he gestures with his lower arms and sends a shockwave through the Force, knocking the officers off their feet.

Inside the cockpit, Elohirnok calls Thrash on the ship's communication system, "Sergeant Ordo, do you read me?"

Thrash sits down in the control seat behind on of the turrets, strapping himself in and putting on a headset, "Yeah, I read you. I'm locked and loaded, sir."

"Great, see that section of wall, above the fueling station?"

"Uh, wait... yeah, I got it."

"Outstanding. Light it up, sergeant!"

Grinning, Thrash pivots the turret around and wraps his hands around the triggers, squeezing both firing controls down simultaneously. The dual laser cannons mounted on the hull come to life, spewing green bolts at the wall of the docking bay.

The first few bolts detonate against the wall, leaving scorch marks. Thrash fires again, and again, pounding the permacrete wall to pieces. There is a loud thump and a huge gout of flame bursts out of the wall as the fuel tanks inside catch fire. The magnetic shield above the docking bay flickers and goes out.

While the security officers are still scrambling to their feet, Sventrare and Haytham run up the loading ramp as it rises, deflecting a few stray stun blasts.

Elohirnok pulls back on the throttles and lifts the ship out of the docking bay. As soon as he clears the rim of the bay, he pushes the throttles all the way down and the ship screams forward, the engines flaring. With a mad laugh, Elohirnok angles the deflector shields to the rear and flies straight away from the surface.

Haytham and Sventrare shut off their lightsabers as they stagger inside, tumbling against the side of the corridor when the ship turns sharply. They make their way to the cockpit and strap themselves in.

Elohirnok greets them, "Glad you made it aboard, Jedi."

Haytham nods and Sventrare smiles, "That was quick work with the shield, Lieutenant. Have you done this before?"

Elohirnok grins. From the planet's surface, turbolaser fire erupts as air defense batteries around the city fire on them. Several blasts strike the rear deflector shields, shaking the ship.

Thrash pivots his turret around, keeping an eye peeled for security interceptors. Below, smoke billows out of the docking bay.

The ship quickly heads into low orbit, racing towards the web of orbital platforms above Corellia. Inside the cockpit, a red light starts flashing and beeping loudly.

Sventrare points, "What's that?"

Elohirnok curses, "Contacts, probably fighters. They were ready," Over the radio he says, "Eyes up, Sergeant, incoming."

Thrash keys his headset, "Roger that, I'll chase 'em off."

Above the ship, a pair of nimble A-Wings dive in unison, spraying laser fire. Elohirnok rolls his ship to avoid the blasts, shifting some power to the front deflectors. The A-Wings plunge past him and twist around, punching their thrusters to gain altitude.

Elohirnok reaches up and clicks several switches over, keeping the thrusters pushed all the way out. The ship climbs rapidly, quickly outranging the surface gun batteries. The A-Wings close back in on the ship and begin firing. As their shots hit the ship, the rear deflector shields flare up, shimmering blue against the green laser bolts.

Elohirnok grits his teeth and yells into the radio, "Sergeant! Do something about those fighters!"

Thrash sights in on the fighters and sends several bursts from the turret arcing towards them, forcing the fighters to abort their strafing run. As the fighters pull away, Thrash holds his fire, letting them go.

The ship nears the orbital platforms and the combat sensors in the cockpit start flashing wildly. Elohirnok shuts them off, slamming the controls. He speaks tersely into the headset, "Four contacts, quadrant seven. Take them out, the shields won't hold much longer."

Four more A-Wings approach the ship in a left-handed V. Elohirnok executes a tight roll as they open fire, and their first volley goes wide. The A-Wings' thrusters flare and they rapidly close on the ship, holding their fire until point blank range.

Thrash fires the turret around the lead fighter, trying to force his to pull away from his attack, but the pilot doggedly pursues them, closing in. Elohirnok twists his ship into a spiraling pattern, still heading for the orbital stations, "Any day now, Sergeant!"

Below them, the first two fighters are gaining once more as the V formation dives from above. Thrash watches on his targetting readout as they close the range, and finally presses down on the triggers.

The lead A-Wing flies straight into his burst and explodes spectacularly. Thrash turns the turret and sends bolts chasing after the remaining three fighters as they roll to avoid his shots, breaking off their attack. Before the other two fighters are in range, Elohirnok pilots the ship straight at the nearest orbital station, narrowly fitting between a docking ring and the body of the station.

The two A-Wings chase after him, their small frames easily fitting where the larger ship had barely slipped through. Elohirnok twists a series of dials, diverting power from the deflector shields to the maneuvering thrusters and hugs the surface of the orbital station. He leans into the controls as he flies, guiding the ship through a series of hairpin turns around surface towers and underneath observation decks.

The A-Wings struggle to keep up, their pilots slowing down to navigate the turns. Elohirnok never lets off the throttle, keeping the ship at maximum velocity as the ship banks and rolls. Nearing the far side of the station, he hugs the surface, coming breath-takingly close to scraping against the station.

Leveling out behind him, the A-Wing pilots hold steady, trying to line up shots. Thrash fires wide, trying to deter them.

Elohirnok pulls up as the A-Wings release twin bursts of laser fire. He twists his ship away from the station, flipping over just as he clears the far side of the station. He takes this last turn extremely tightly, trying to put the station between himself and the fighters.

There is a screeching sound as the ship flies past the edge of the station, sparks showering all about. The A-Wings blow past Elohirnok, completely missing the turn. They fly wide and scramble to turn around. Elohirnok slumps back from the controls as he brings the ship level and speeds away from Corellia.

"Whew," He whips off the his headset and turns to face Sventrare, "And to think you doubted me, Sven."

The Codru-Ji raises his hands defensively, "It won't happen again, Lieutenant, I assure you."

Haytham gestures towards the sensor array, "I don't mean to be a downer, but those fighters are still after us."

Elohirnok throws back his head and laughs, "They'll never catch us before I jump to lightspeed. We're in the clear."

As if on cue, a blue light on the console blinks to life. Looking immensely pleased with himself, Elohirnok grabs a heavy lever and pushes it forward. The starscape ahead of the ship blurs, each point of light stretching out into a line as the ship vanishes into hyperspace.

…

Back in the crew quarters, Stefan confronts Tonnor, "You escaped from Mahryk."

Tonnor backs away from Stefan, looking around, but Stefan stands between him and the door.

"Listen, Stefan, we're both on the same side now."

Stefan pulls a holdout blaster from his pocket and swings his hand up to Tonnor's face, squeezing the trigger. The blast throws Tonnor backwards, killing him instantly.

Stefan stands over his corpse and says quietly to himself, "No. You forfeited your life when you betrayed me, and you knew it."

Turning to leave the crew quarters, he comes face to face with Lachance. The assassin leans nonchalantly against the doorframe, eyeing the blaster in Stefan's hand.

For a moment, Stefan hesitates. The two men stand barely a foot apart, a silence hanging in the air. Without a word, Lachance nods slowly and walks away.