Quiet Before the Storm
by David Pontier
Chapter 1
"Developments""What?!"
"I said that we need people like you. The Republic is growing very fast and-"
"You are offering me a job?!" Mara Jade was looking at Snotzenexer as if he had grown another head. "After all I've been through and with all that I know, you think I'm just going to forget it and join up with you?"
"I thought you would want to go in the direction of the least resistance," Snotzenexer lied. He had no delusions on how Mara felt about this situation. Still, he had to make the offer to keep the whole act going. The act would never convince the spirited trader that he was on the level, but it might quell her fears that he was trying to return the Republic to a Palpatine-style government.
"Face it Mara, the time of the Solos and Skywalkers is over. They have been replaced. Regardless of how you think I achieved this position, it is mine, and it will not be taken away from me any time soon. I plan only to make this government run more smoothly than it is now. To do that I need to set up a new trading system. The one your former employer set up is out of date, and no one has seen Karde in a long time. What I need is someone who knows how everything is done on a large scale and is capable of giving orders to get things done."
"You are way off base," Mara responded, barely keeping her voice under control. She looked around the presidential office that Snotzenexer had been occupying for a little less than a week. She hadn't been in the office when Leia had ruled, but she was sure the current arrangement was unrecognizable from the previous one. All remnants of the old government had indeed been removed.
Mara stared at Snotzenexer, hoping the genius would make another claim of how he intended to promote peace and stability so she could yell at him again, but the president was quite content to let Mara continue the conversation on her own. "Not only will I not take your job, but I'll make sure everyone else in my trade knows what you're about so you won't be able to hire anyone." The threat sounded a little weak and Mara wished she hadn't said it.
"You, I would care to wager, are the only one in your trade that cares one iota about morals or 'right and wrong.' Everyone else is only concerned about the almighty credit. It won't take too much convincing to show them that since I have - excuse me - since the Republic has control of nearly one twentieth of the galaxy's commerce and in order to make money, you need to be associated with us."
Mara just stood there, hateful thoughts flowing through her mind. She wondered if Snotzenexer knew how easaly the Emperor's Hand could kill him right now. The president wouldn't be able so much as to begin to call for help, much less put up any defense.
"What about Luke?" she asked, calling the Jedi Master by his first name for the first time in resent memory.
"What about him? He's on Hoth. Everyone knows the planet has been quarantined and no one is allowed near the system. If you're implying that you think you can just stroll in and rescue him, go ahead and try, I think we both remember how well your last 'Skywalker Rescue' attempt went. Besides, if that is what you are insinuating, then I will have to put you in custody for plotting against the Republic."
Mara was blocked at every avenue. She had come up to this office to get Snotzenexer to confess to her. She hadn't really had a game plan, so when Snotzenexer had started the meeting with, "Miss Jade, just the person I wanted to see," Mara had been taken back a bit. Now she saw nothing else to be done, and made a hasty exit toward the door.
"Please at least consider my offer," Snotzenexer threw towards her retreating back. "The financial rewards would be considerable."
Mara mumbled a curse in response that was far too vulgar to allow being audible.
* * *
Jill Sanson came out of the side room after Mara had left her husband's office. "A credit for your thoughts, Alex," she asked curiously.
"Get in line, dear," Snotzenexer responded, still looking at the door through which Mara had departed. "You are at the end of the line too, for there are some who will give much more than a credit to know what I'm thinking."
"Oh," Sanson inquired, as she walked toward his chair. Something in her voice made Snotzenexer turn to face her. It was evening and Sanson was obviously ready for bed. "Perhaps I could give you something more valuable."
"Like what?" Snotzenexer asked, his voice betraying his eyes.
"Oh, I don't know," she said sitting on his desk on front of him, "something like this," she finished, kissing him lightly on the lips.
"But these people are willing to pay a lot of money."
She kissed him again. "How much am I worth to you?"
"Oh," Snotzenexer started, getting interrupted by another kiss, "about two hundred," another kiss, "billion," kiss, "fortunes."
Sanson seemed satisfied with this answer and walked slowly away from her husband. Snotzenexer was still a little bit out of breath as he watched his wife walk toward the adjacent bedroom. "You didn't want to know what I was thinking, did you?"
Without turning her head, Sanson shook it. Snotzenexer got up from his chair and made his way quickly after his wife. Maybe they'd talk about tactics in the morning.
* * *
"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."
Trince Alinter, Jedi Knight, lay in a pool of his own sweat. His heart pounded methodically in his chest, pumping his poisoned blood to every location in his body. His brain throbbed as it tried to resist the vile chemicals that had bled into his system through a vicious knife wound, but it could find no other source of oxygen for survival, forcing it to take the good blood with the bad. The Jedi's mind did somersaults as it hallucinated through five simultaneous nightmares, each more horrid than the one before.
Trince's muscles throbbed under the punishment they were taking. The cruel potion broke down the cells even as they tried to absorb the oxygen in the blood. The result was constant cramping the likes of which no man living has ever experienced. The only movement of which the young man was capable was spastic convulsions that almost broke his bones.
The dying man's lungs burned with fire as the deoxygenated, yet poisonous blood filtered through them. The acidic chemicals ate away at his fragile lung tissue, letting blood seep through the tears. Trince coughed violently bringing up flecks of blood that burned on his lips and chin.
The former protector of the peace yearned for some of his own as his stomach turned itself inside out. His digestive system convulsed against the poison, creating a backpressure that forced Trince's most recent meals back through his throat. This choked him even more as he tried to gasp for air in this time of pain.
Even in this state of pre-death, the man was semi-alert to his surroundings. He could feel others pressing in on him. Whether they were people, animals, things, or even death it didn't matter, only that they were there and suffocating him. The only thing that kept them at bay was the aura of pure pain that this Force strong man emitted.
Trince had been instructed well by his teachers at the Academy. The survival instincts had been pounded into him so he would be able to live through some of the most severe torture. Nothing could have prepared him for this. There was no Jedi calming technique for a man so wrapped up in his own death through suffering that he couldn't remember his own name. No Jedi trance could be performed on a man whose own blood was slowly eating him inside out like boiling water in an ice cup.
There were brief moments when Trince could sense his need to live. Brief moments when blood, not yet fully poisoned, flowed through his brain, and he had a second of clarity. Those moments were few and growing further apart as the time went by.
Time had no meaning to him though. In the land under Coruscant, there was no literal time anyway. There were no sun or stars. There were no schedules followed by masses of people going about their business. In the underworld there was only darkness - darkness, pain, and misery.
Trince could feel all of these now. The lack of time made the suffering all the more hellish as he couldn't tell if he had been in this condition for seconds, hours, or years. Likewise he could not predict how much longer he would have to endure it.
He felt pain in every fiber of his being. Like two people in perfect love who see the body as the perfection of beauty, with no other purpose than to please each other, Trince now saw the body as the most beautiful torture machine imaginable. His own body knew him so well it was capable of prodding in places that were so vital and secret, Trince had little or no knowledge of them previous to this nightmarish existence. Now he wished nothing more than the ability to rip his heart from his chest with his bare hands just to watch it stop beating and to know the pain was over.
Trince also felt misery. Misery that he wouldn't be able to stop the pain on his own. Misery that this unimaginable agony would never end as his existence for eternity would be to endure the punishment of countless generations of sins visited upon him for no more reason than he was available at the time.
Then there was darkness. This was the worst. As terrible as the pain was, Trince could fathom its existence. As psychoticly depressing as the misery was, Trince could understand its depth. The darkness was impenetrable. He could neither see in nor past it. It existed around him as the ground hovers bellow you at the peak of a climb just moments before the deadly fall. You hang there, momentarily suspended against gravity, knowing that as soon as you begin to fall, it will be over shortly. Trince hovered, perfectly balanced on the tiniest of pins, with the weight of many worlds waiting to crash down. It is the moment the convicted endures after the word "fire" and before the blast of the gun ends his life. It is the moment a pilot experiences as an unavoidable asteroid looms in his path giving him just long enough to think about death before it consumes him in a ball of flame.
Trince lived in that moment. Only this moment did not last a fraction of a second. The time he endured it could not be measured. Not because it was too long, nor because it was too short, but because this moment transcended time. It wasn't a when, or a where, but a what. This moment defined Trince's entire existence, transforming him into a taunt rubber band ready to be snapped into death at any moment.
But the rubber band remained taunt. The gun would not fire. The asteroid didn't come any closer. The ground remained below, refusing to rush up and take him. The incredible weight remained balanced upon the young Jedi, threatening to crush him as he maintained his remarkable balancing act on the head of a pin.
Trince was afraid.
For the first time in his life, he understood fear. Not fear of the bogeyman in your closest. Nor the type of fear one feels before a test or a first date. But the fear that can only be seen as the perfect antithesis of peace. Fear that is so complete no bit of truth can remain. No bit of assurance such as ones next breath, or gravity remaining, or light continuing existed anywhere. There was no guarantee of anything remaining as it was the moment before. The world could end around him, every natural disaster happening at once, and he would not be surprised. In fact, the fear was so complete he was nearly at peace with it.
When someone is at peace they feel comfortable in their surroundings. Their home is secure above and around them. Their loved ones are cared for. Their future is secure and any worry that might arise can be easily handled. Trince was at a grotesque peace with his surroundings in such a way that he felt comfortable no good could possibly come from this episode. He was given such a surety through his Force enhanced fear that he would die and the world with him in one, huge, triumphant end that the anxiety one naturally feels before such an event seemed foolish.
The psychological analysis on such a situation had never been examined or even proposed. What reported situation, other than facing a super nova, was so utterly hopeless that the people involved seemed content with their situation? Nothing unexpected was going to happen, and they were at peace with that. Just because the expected, and assured, was so totally horrifying didn't change the fact that there was some evil calm about it.
Trince settled into a kind of half acceptance of his situation. His nerves remained on edge as they continued to fight off each wave of pain that racked through his body. His mind remained tortured by the images of leathery wings and fiery lava pools. His body still curled itself into the tightest ball it could, warding off the pressing of his surroundings. But his inner being found peace in the surety of his fear. The moment this dawned on him, his psyche revolted violently against it.
Trince was angry.
Anger is the word by definition, but it falls pathetically short in understanding the scope of utter and complete revulsion Trince felt. When you loose your tax receipt in the mail you become angry. When someone rear-ends your landspeeder at the multiplex you become extremely upset. When your team looses the smashball finals because the referee blows the last call of the game, you are beside yourself in fury.
Trince was in such a state of utter singular emotion that not one iota of his being could be considered anything other than pure animosity. The rage at his position and his momentary acceptance of it drove him to a fit of anger that exceeded anything imaginable. The entire Danzig system, all four hundred-some suns, could go nova at once and not reach one percentage point of Trince's fury. The injustice of his position was unfathomable to his tortured mind. He was innocent of any type of punishment equal to one-one millionth of what he was enduring.
The gods were torturing him for pleasure, but even the gods would not want to face the wrath that had been created in the bowls of Coruscant. Trince was a bubbling source of putrescence and filth so vile that the potency of the poison in his system paled in comparison to the ability of Trince's rage to simply end life.
The next logical step in dealing with injustice is placing the blame. In Trince's mind this went so far past the hunchback with the knife that had at first poisoned him that it was laughable to even bring him up. The blame for this type of anguish went to the source. Life was what was torturing him so. Death was merly the absence of life. It was this absence that was being dangled in front in front of him like an antidote to an infected patient. With the association of blame came hatred.
Trince was hate.
Trince did not hate; he was it. To him it was no longer a verb. It was not a state of mind but a state of being. Trince was not only hate, but his hatred - his self - was aimed at everything. His mother and father had brought him into this world, giving him the opportunity to feel this pain. His family had cared for him allowing him to live long enough to come to this terrible time in his life. The Academy had trained him, opening channels of his mind that now flowed with molten anguish and fiery hatred.
Trince's enmity with the world was so complete that for a brief moment at the peak of his malevolence he was apart from reality. He was an entity of such utter bitterness that space and time could not contain him. A vortex opened over his soul and sucked all that was good, all that was pure, and all that had hope into oblivion, leaving behind the a shell of what once was a righteous human being.
At this summit of animosity, Trince let out a yell that surpassed audio appreciation. A cry so full of anguish that every living thing within a hundred light years felt the ripple through the Force. Whether it be a slight shiver or a sudden heart attack, life within Trince's range was slightly altered.
Whether the fever had passed at this moment or Trince had simply decided to ignore it seemed unimportant as the young man stirred. He uncurled himself and looked about. Like a predator, he was on all fours, searching with eyes that had become glowing coals in the faint light of the underworld.
Trince got into a low crouch, breathing as if possessed of a demon, his exhalation capable of lighting wood on fire. A few of the hellish hounds that had pursued Trince, Han, and Lando to the place of Trince's recent struggle had returned to see what had happened. Trince was aware of their approach long before they were aware of him. Trince killed without thought, not even allowing the hounds the moment of realization he had just lived in. Instead the hounds died in mid-stride with no hint of danger before.
Trince made it to his feet. The time that had passed was still a mystery, but it seemed like eons. He was no longer the same person who had ran to and then collapsed on this spot. He had been changed, into what, he didn't even know. He still had some sense of his former self, and it was that former self that sent him in search of his friends.
* * *
Nine Jedi students stood in a tight circle. They were on the frigid world of Forinad. It had been two weeks since the asteroids had collided with the doomed planet, and the temperature of the planet was now that of Hoth. The one difference was there was no snow anywhere, giving the planet an eerie, alien look to it. Perception was impossible on this planet without a sun to regulate it, and the sun was locked securely behind the thick ash covering that existed in the atmosphere.
The area in which the Jedi students stood provided even more parallels to a newly discovered world. The pockmarked surface of the former mountain range looked like something from a horror holo. The landscape was truly ugly, the acid lakes had frozen into a gray ice that gave a semi-reflection of the ragged peaks that rose in a pathetic replacement of their former glory.
The Jedi stood in the center of a particularly deep, empty crater. Anakin was their leader and began to initiate the group spin. All nine students were holding hands with the two students on either side of them, but instead of extending their arms to make the biggest circle possible, their clasped hands were in the center of the circle. They levitated now, shoulder to shoulder, and slowly started to spin. They were all students, but under Anakin's guidance, they acted as cohesively as if they were all masters.
The spin gained speed quickly, and the centrifugal force was threatening to rip the circle open, not content to remain compact. Anakin and the others struggled hard to keep the circle closed while at the same time, funneling more speed into their turn. As soon as the force became to strong, Anakin gave the mental signal to release the circles hold. Each student let go of their Force to keep the circle small, and extended their arms from their side.
The circle expanded to its max diameter of a little over five meters in a fraction of a second. No normal human arm would be able to sustain the shock of the circle snapping open, much less be able to sustain a hand grip with the person next to them, but the Jedi were not normal. Also, unlike physics demanded the speed of the spinning Jedi did not slow when they expanded. This caused a huge shock wave do to the infinite inertial acceleration. The shock was represented by an enormous inverted cyclone that sprung into existence inside the circle.
The tip of the cyclone reached into the muddy shell that covered the enshrouded planet, and huge chunks of ash began pouring down the cyclone. The Jedi were spinning high above the deep crater that was now filling quickly. Anakin had attempted this technique by himself a week ago, and had only managed to remove as much ash total as this group of nine had removed in the first five seconds.
The Jedi were able to keep up this spin for only ten minutes. Fatigue wore on them quickly, and the mound beneath them had grown so quickly, that it took too much concentration to continually increase their levitation. When they were finished, they slowly lowered themselves to the new mountain they had created. The ash was packed so tightly it felt like solid rock. Anakin looked up at the sky and almost cried when he saw the beautiful sun shining through the hole they had created. The gap in the blanket covering was a couple kilometers in diameter, but already shrinking.
All the Jedi stared weakly into the sky and watched as over the next twenty minutes the pressure around the gap was too much and slowly shrunk the hole to nothing. Instead of defeat, though, they felt exuberance. They could all sense that the density in the sky above them for many kilometers in all directions was much less then it had been before, and maybe after several days they could open a hole that could be maintained.
The students were exhausted, but Anakin wanted to keep them focused on their tasks. They all wore environment suits and Anakin talked through his helmet com link. "We need to do this over the populated regions. If we can create several holes and maybe maintain them with shielded probes, we might be able to avoid the ice age phase entirely."
As it was, the Republic scientists were predicting the oceans would start to freeze considerably in the next three weeks. Already there was ice over the vast oceans of the planet, and a daring (and light) soul could walk across certain parts of them. There had been no glacier activity yet, other than some of the ice impinging on the beachfronts.
The Jedi would need some rest before they could go to work again, but Anakin was right. Now that they had been successful, they needed to find a good locale in the populated section of the world.
* * *
Wedge read the reports handed to him with grim realization. The oxygen level on Denor was all but gone, the huge forests that were kept in moderate supply on the heavily populated planet burned to the ground. Wedge still didn't understand everything about what had happened, but he was beginning to get a much clearer picture. He understood how mega ton rocks could wipe out life on a planet and how it was very likely that Denor would never emerge from its ice age. He understood how a planet that relied on controlled forests as opposed to random vegetation for oxygen could be vulnerable to this kind of damage. He also understood how necessary oxygen was to support life on a planet.
The eon long winter that was going to befall this planet that had lent the system its name would deprive the surface of sunlight. In order for life to reemerge after the blanket was removed there had to be adequate conditions. Because asteroids had torched the surface, there would be no dormant plant system. Because volcanoes had erupted all over the planet, all the soil would be acidic. And because there was no oxygen left and no way to produce it, there would be no way for life to re-evolve. Actually, Wedge thought to himself the weight of the ash blanket that covered the planet would probably put so much pressure on the depleted atmosphere, the whole molecular structure would break down, leaving a barren, uninhabitable ball off rock.
Wedge understood all of these things very well, what he didn't understand was how this could happen. This wasn't a freak accident, he didn't need Force sensitivity to tell that. This hadn't just been a fleet of asteroids that lumbered into a system - they had been aimed. Wedge had looked at the sensor records of the asteroids' approach and termination and could see plainly that no other part of the system had been hurt except the inhabited regions. Space was so vast, and for the most part, so empty that the mere chance of two things colliding were infinitesimal. That said nothing for chances of an enormous asteroid field splitting up into two parts and heading right towards the inhabited planets.
This had to have been planned. The asteroids' origin could only be traced so far back into the Danzig system before the record of their existence disappeared. Wedge had half a mind to calculate their trajectory through the chaotic system, find their source, and take his fleet to investigate. He knew he couldn't do that though. The ship he had brought into the system along with the few ships that had been sent ahead of him and the official Republic aid fleet was more than busy evacuating the remaining citizens of the system.
Wedge was sick of the work. It wasn't that he didn't care for these people's lives, on the contrary, his restlessness was fueled by their situation. Someone had planned this. Someone had taken great care in making sure this asteroid field would strike these worlds and destroy the Denorians' lives. Wedge didn't need to supervise the rescue mission, but he didn't have an adequate reason to leave to check out his hunches.
From the sensor data he had examined, he found there were several asteroids that had not hit a planet and had flown through the system. There was a good chance that if these asteroids had been guided here, there might be some trace evidence remaining on those rocks. The only problem was there were no ships able to go after these asteroids. The Republic ships involved in the rescue operation were very large or very small. Wedge had brought a Calamarian Cruiser and four fighters. The fleet that had left before Wedge but on a slower hyperspace route had consisted of two Calamarian Cruisers and two medical Frigates. The official Republic rescue team had brought three more cruisers, five medical Frigates, four Bulk Cruisers, two Assault Frigates, and two Corvettes. Each of the Calamarain Cruisers, no doubt, was equipped with a squadron or two of fighters. What Wedge needed was a freighter. A fighter was far to small to carry or allow the examination of an asteroid. The next biggest ship available was a Corelian Corvette, which had a skeleton crew of over 20 men.
Wedge was the highest ranking officer involved with this aid mission and anything he said would be obeyed, but he knew he couldn't take any of the larger ships away from their duties of saving the sick and dying. Still, he knew if he could find a way to get to the runaway asteroids, he would be able to find out exactly where those rocks had come from. As it was, he realized he just had to be patient and let this part of the mission go on. He didn't know how things were going back on Coruscant, but if they needed more information as to how the disaster had occurred, then he would feel justified in pulling a Corvette off duty to check the asteroids.
Chapter 2
"Mara's Invisible Friend"Two hours after her meeting with Snotzenexer found Mara sitting at a corner table in a seedy drinking establishment in the lower levels of Coruscant. She had come to Coruscant for two reasons: she wanted to confront Snotzenexer and she wanted to get her lightsaber back. She had given the weapon Luke had originally given to her back to him after they had left Sanson's custody. The Republic officials were a little reluctant in giving her the murder weapon, but had to bow to her weapon license that each Jedi had to have to validate their ownership of such a lethal weapon as a lightsaber.
What was she going to do? Snotzenexer was of course right. The guard had been changed and everything was going to be different now. The former leaders had been removed with Mara graciously left alone. She hadn't really been a leader, but it would be ignorant of her to say that she hadn't visibly chosen a side.
When had her focus shifted? There was a time not too long ago when she would have jumped at the type of opportunity that had just been offered to her. There would be no higher position in the commercial realm of the entire galaxy than the person that Snotzenexer would eventually appoint to the job she had been offered. In fact, in a few years, that lucky being would be the wealthiest person in the entire galaxy if they ran the operation right. Well, they would be the second wealthiest person in the galaxy. Snotzenexer would remain on top until he made a mistake, which didn't seem like it would come any time soon.
Now Mara seemed more concerned about right and wrong than earning a credit. It actually wouldn't even be wrong to accept the job from Snotzenexer. There would be no one above her from whom she would have to take orders. Besides, she would be able to keep a close eye on Snotzenexer to make sure he didn't try to start moving the government in the wrong direction. The reason she came upon for not joining up with the refurbished Republic was she thought she would be betraying her friends. Friends. There's a word she hadn't used in a long time.
"Hey, darling, care to have a little fun tonight?"
Mara looked up briefly from the drink she was nursing. A large, dirty man was standing in front of her table, leering drunkenly at her. "Maybe another time, stud."
"No, how about now?"
There was something in his voice that caught Mara's attention. She looked back down at her drink and scanned the man in front of her with the Force. Though he appeared to be drunk and was slurring his speech, she could detect a very clear mind. She also noticed that in a bar where most people kept to themselves, there were at least three other people paying special attention to this confrontation. Mara could think of no reason why someone would want to ambush her, unless Snotzenexer had sent them.
"Sure, why not," Mara said, with as much apathy as she could muster. The man across the table watched careful as Mara stood. She reached for her half finished glass of ale and brought it to her mouth to finish. The next move was slow on purpose. She stopped the glass halfway to her face and threw it at the man across from her.
The big man registered the hostile attack in time to draw his blaster just as the glass exploded against his face. Mara's outstretched hand yanked the drawn blaster out of the man's hand with the Force, and she quickly flipped the table up in front of her. The opposite edge of the table caught the thug under the chin and he went down, still pawing the alcohol out of his eyes.
From across the room, two others drew blasters and fired, but Mara had the table in front of her as a shield and returned fire. She caught one of them in the shoulder and the other in the chest. She had felt a fourth mind in her earlier evaluation of the situation, but he was nowhere to be seen. The first thug started to get up, and Mara slammed the table back on its legs, smacking the man's forehead and knocking him out. She leaped onto the table and survived the scene. One of the men she had shot was dead, slumped against the bar, his body still sitting on a stool. The other man was unconscious with pain and had a wound that would bleed to death if not treated. He was lying across a table in another corner of the bar. The rest of the patronage, about five people, continued eating and drinking as if nothing had happened.
Mara hopped down from her perch, keeping the stolen blaster at the ready, knowing there was someone else. She made her way unhindered to the door of the establishment and exited into the fading daylight. The lower levels of Coruscant were already as dark as they would get, and the little light from scattered glow lamps didn't do much in aiding sight. The high ceiling of this level was just as good as open air, and the street that ran in front of the bar was lined with several other rundown businesses.
There was a small sampling of the alien population wandering about, and Mara didn't think she was going to be able to track anyone in these conditions. She stepped away from the entrance, not wanting to highlight her movements with the light behind her. She decided she didn't need any additional trouble and headed for the lift that had brought her to this level.
"Going somewhere, Mara?"
Mara turned sharply, crouching as she did, her blaster pointed unwaveringly at the voice, but there was nothing there. Her Jedi senses were stretching to their limits as she slowly worked her back up to a wall. A stun blast came out of the darkness in front of her, but she had felt it as it was fired, and stepped smoothly out of the way. The shot had come from an alley across the street and was not joined by others. Mara still couldn't sort out any individuals from her danger sense, which was screaming at her.
She began to walk slowly toward the lift again when two more bolts came her way. She avoided these by ducking into an alley next to the building she was up against. She stopped suddenly as she ran headlong into a huge man. Before she could react, he had both of his mammoth hands on her arms, pinning them to her side. Mara struggled only briefly, realizing the futility in it. This man had to be over two meters tall and weighed close to 130 kilograms.
Mara managed to hold on to her blaster and shot at the monster's feet. The shot wasn't aimed and missed in between the large legs. The man lifted her up, still holding her by her arms and shook her violently. The blaster came out of her hand and clattered to the ground. Mara felt like a rag doll in the ogre's grasp and could feel more thugs approaching. She allowed herself to quiet her anxiety and fill her body with the Force. The giant held her right above her elbows. Mara bent her elbows and grabbed on the underside of the man's forearms. Exhaling slowly, she concentrated all her energy into her next motion. She pushed up suddenly on his arms, forcing him straighten his elbows and allowing Mara to get her feet back on the ground. Continuing the motion smoothly, she dropped to her back and flipped the man over her head. She threw him as though he weighed no more than she did, ramming his head into the permacrete brick building behind her. His grip went slack on her arms, and she scrambled out from underneath the big man.
She was back on her feet in a second and was surrounded by four men. Mara had a flash of recognition as her eyes passed over one of the men, but didn't have time to dwell on it as they opened fire. Mara's hand made a lightning movement for her lightsaber, but she was stunned into blackness before her hand even closed on the handle.
* * *
Mara awoke suddenly. She was uncomfortably wet and quickly realized she was chained to a wall that was dripping some very fowl smelling liquid. She had been stripped of her clothes and was wearing only her underwear, which was now soaked with the putrid mess that oozed down the wall. Her arms were spread apart, chained at the wrists to the stone wall behind her. Her feet were a couple centimeters off the ground. Needless to say, she was not in a very comfortable position. The room was very dimly lit, not allowing any information to be gathered other than it was a simple four walled room, not more than six meters along any wall.
Mara suddenly had the feeling she wasn't alone. To her right she could sense another presence very close. She had never experienced this species before, and it radiated power like a Jedi, but there was no Force presence there. In the dim light, with her Force enhanced sight, she could tell it was humanoid, though the exact outline was a little hazy. No, not hazy, hairy. As she looked closer, she could see that the creature was covered with hair. He looked a little short to be a Wookiee, and his facial features appeared more canine than any Wookiee she had ever seen. Her companion was chained to the wall in a similar fashion to her own imprisonment. He was also awake, and noticed Mara's scrutiny.
"Good morning, fair lady," he said with a voice that betrayed his gruff outer appearance. It sounded almost musical with only a hint of a growl.
"Is it morning?" Mara asked.
"I've been told that any time you wake up is morning."
"Yes," Mara replied, remembering one of her conversations with Luke, "I think I've been told that too. Though that is sort of hedging the question." For some reason Mara felt very comfortable next to this alien.
"They carried you in about five hours ago. I can not know how long you were in their custody before you were brought here, but unless you were apprehended in that attire, I believe it safe to say that they performed a thorough search of your person which could have taken up to an hour."
"Morning is a good enough approximation for me," Mara decided, a little startled by this creature's speech.
"Please don't let my appearance fool you, I am quite cultured."
"Not to mention fluent in reading minds," Mara added under her breath, though she was sure that with the creature's pointed ears, he would easily hear her.
"Not in reading minds, good lady, but in reading faces."
"In this light?" Mara queried.
"Only in this light," he explained. "My people are a people of the darkness."
The two lapsed into silence. Mara spent a few moments enacting a levitation trance, attempting to alleviate some of the stress from her arms. "How long have you been here?"
"Call me Ra'tok," he said, hearing the unasked question in the end of her comment. "I've been hanging on this cursed wall for a little more than a day. If I may ask, what have you done to disturb our mutual friend Ronderj, such that he has deemed it necessary to torture you before he kills you?"
Ronderj! Mara remembered the face she had seen before she had been shot. Querell Ronderj, the ruthless pirate that she had run into in the Carowin sector. "Unless he has been hired by someone else, he's probably a little mad about the prosthetic I forced him to wear."
"You are the one who relieved him of the use of his left arm," Ra'tok's laughter sounded rather close to barking. "I congratulate you, fine woman."
"Please," Mara said in response to the benevolent titles that her companion had been assigning her, "the name is Mara."
"Pleased to meet your acquaintance Mara."
"If I may ask," Mara said, echoing Ra'tok's earlier question, "what have you done to anger him?"
Ra'tok fell silent for a few moments. Before Mara could retract the question Ra'tok answered it. "He is a little short handed because of me. He and his band found it necessary to hit a ship of helpless refugees from Nauranty. The ship consisted of mostly women and children. I was along as their guardian. I failed and Ronderj took the ship. I escaped, but he sold the refugees into slavery. I have been after him ever since. He finally caught me."
Mara could tell that this creature had the utmost moral character, yet was definitely not one with whom you wanted to be enemies. Mara could feel the presence of several men coming toward the room. "It sounds as if we are about to have company, Mara."
Mara took notice of Ra'tok's exceptional hearing, and waited patiently as Ronderj and his torture crew made their way into the room. The door opened and the lights were turned on suddenly. The glow lamps were many and quite intense, causing Mara to gasp and squint hard against the unexpected glare. Ra'tok didn't take to the lights nearly as well as his human counter part. "Aaaaarghhhhhh!!"
"Oh," Ronderj walked through the door first, "I'm sorry. I forgot all about Defels' abhorrence of bright light." The lights went off again. "Is that better?" Ra'tok growled menacingly toward the pirate. "That's what I thought," he said and flipped the lights back on.
Ra'tok nearly ripped his chains out of the wall trying to get at the pompous man. Ronderj smiled mockingly at the gestures of hatred, but Mara noticed he also kept his distance, regardless of the restraints. "And how is the beautiful Mara Jade doing this morning?"
"Fit and chipper, your grace," she responded, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Though I am a bit cold."
"Ah, I'm sorry but we had to make sure that you weren't carrying any tracking devices. We can't have you being followed, can we?" As if to exaggerate Mara's near nakedness, Ronderj was wearing extravagant clothes. He wore a silk blue long-sleeve shirt under a smart black vest with several gold chains hanging from the pockets. His gray pants were baggy and stuffed into his tight, black boots. His blaster and holster were even decorative. Mara looked at his left hand protruding from the blue shirt. It wasn't as good a prosthetic as Luke had gotten. It looked more like Threepio's hand, though with a flesh tone.
Two other people had followed Ronderj into the room. They were dressed in non-descript black and gray and both wore heavy blasters that were as undecorative as possible. They were big men, not as big as the one Mara had dealt with in the alley, but very formidable. She noticed one of them was carrying a very long vibro knife.
"You see, Mara, when we heard you were in the area, we couldn't pass up this chance for retribution." Ronderj turned to Ra'tok. "You see, my Defel friend, when I hit her ship a while back, we told her and her copilot to stand down and be boarded. They didn't listen. There were only two of them when there were ten of us. Any sane pair would have cut their losses, but no, Miss Jade and her dark-skinned, gambler friend had to put up a fight. They killed seven of my men, and I took a heavy blaster bolt in the shoulder. We got the bleeding to stop, but by the time we got back to base so I could receive medical attention, the arm was lost. This was over fifteen years ago and I've lived with this cursed arm ever since." He hoisted his left arm rather clumsily.
Ronderj turned back to Mara. "Now before we show you what it's like to loose an arm," one of the thugs in the background was brandishing the vibro-blade, "I'd like to ask you one question." Ronderj reached slowly into his vest and pulled out Mara's lightsaber. Mara's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the much-needed weapon. "What is this?"
Mara was shocked at first. They didn't know what a lightsaber was? But then they were a pirate band who didn't usually operate in this area. Why they were on Coruscant was a mystery to Mara. They usually worked out on the fringe, paying little mind to galactic events. Even if they had heard of Skywalker or the Jedi, they probably had never actually seen a lightsaber. They definitely had no reason to suspect Mara was Force sensitive.
"Haven't you turned it on?" Mara asked.
Ronderj looked at Mara as if she had just bestowed upon him the most repulsive of insults. "Yea, sure, I'll just turn this thing on and hundreds of Republic guards will be on top of us in a second. We all saw you reaching for it when we attacked you. It isn't a blaster, so what could it be for but to radio for back up."
"You're wrong," Mara said, shaking her head slightly, "it's not a comlink or a weapon."
"Then what, pray tell, is it?" Mara had waited for exactly this moment. Ronderj was now holding the weapon out to Mara in a very limp hand, looking at her with expectancy.
Ra'tok was a Defel warrior and a very good one. He had risen to the highest level in his pack back on his home planet, had been blessed by the temple, and given leave, a blessing that was given to only a few of the Defel. He had a duty to protect the weak and helpless against the forces of evil. He was amazingly quick and capable of such feats of dexterity and coordination that he was startled or amazed by very little. What Mara did next was something that, even after it had been explained to him, Ra'tok found impossible.
The lightsaber leaped out of Ronderj's hand and flew into Mara's. The oddity of such an event caught everyone off guard and gave Mara the time she needed. She ignited the weapon, rotated her wrist, and cut the chain holding her right arm in place. Ra'tok was on her right, and she spun away from him, pivoting on her secured left arm as two blaster bolts scorched the area where her body had just been. She cut the remaining chain and rolled back to the right in front of Ra'tok as two more bolts smashed into the stone wall behind her. She came upright now, shielding Ra'tok from the fire as the two thugs had drawn their blasters and were trying to track down the elusive woman. Ronderj hadn't moved.
Thinking the erect Mara standing about three meters in front of them was finally an easy target, both thugs fired at her. The lightsaber moved on its own accord, reflecting the bolts into the ceiling and floor. Both men paused slightly at the dramatic display. Mara hurled her lightsaber at one of the rigid men and dove at the body of the other. One of them was dismembered while the other underestimated the jumping ability of a Jedi and hadn't braced himself adequately for the hit he took. Mara's shoulder nailed him in the mid section and the air left his lungs as his arms went high, his blaster shooting out a piece of plaster in the ceiling. The man was unable to break his fall with his upraised arms, and his head bounced viciously off the stone floor.
Mara got up quickly, turning toward the remaining man in the room. Ronderj had his blaster drawn and was already pulling the trigger. Mara's lightsaber leaped into her hand and deflected bolt after bolt. Mara noticed his grip on the weapon weaken in frustration, and she ripped it from his grasp with the Force. As the weapon flew through the air toward her, Mara stepped forward and smashed it into oblivion with her lightsaber like she was an all-star smashball player.
Ronderj looked completely shocked as Mara walked up to him slowly. Ronderj tried to take a step back but felt the cold stone of a wall behind him. Mara kept walking until the tip of her lightsaber was nestled under the pirate's chin. He was shivering with fright. Without his bodyguards to protect him he looked pathetically small. In fact, for a pirate, he was pretty diminutive in physical stature. He might even be small enough that . . .
"Take off your shirt."
"What?" Ronderj asked, swearing he had heard wrong.
"Remove your pretty little shirt," Mara repeated, stressing each syllable and burning his chin with her sword.
Ronderj quickly slipped off his vest, unbuttoned his shirt, and took it off. Mara summoned one of the fallen blasters to her hand. "Take off your pants."
"Listen here Mara-"
Mara lifted the blaster but didn't point it at the bare-chested pirate. Instead she turned it toward Ra'tok. She was still looking fully at Ronderj when she fired two shots at the Defel. Each bolt took out a chain that secured the prisoner. "Ra'tok, could you please take his pants off?"
Before the vicious warrior could even take a step towards the frightened man, he had kicked off his boots and was throwing his pants at Mara. With Ra'tok standing over the pirate, Mara got dressed. The shirt was a little big, but being a man's shirt on a woman, it fit nicely. It was a good thing the pants had been baggy because Mara found she had a little longer legs than the pirate leader. After she had put on the boots, she clipped her lightsaber to a belt loop, holstered her stolen blaster, and turned to leave.
As much as Ra'tok wanted to end this pitiful man's life, he was a being of honor and wouldn't stoop to kill an unarmed man. "Wait!" Ronderj screamed, as they both turned to go. "You can't just leave me here. If you lock the door I might be in here for days before someone checks on me."
Mara stopped, sighed deeply, and turned around to face the pirate standing four meters away. "Besides," he continued, "what am I supposed to do with this?" He raised his bionic arm towards them.
Mara's mental alarms went off just as the secret weapon compartment of the prosthetic powered up. She drew her lightsaber and was just in time to block the first bolt. The arm was not a rapid-fire weapon, and she covered the distance between them before he could fire again. Her blade came down, cleanly slicing the appendage off above the elbow. "Get a new one."
Mara turned away from him for the last time, and walked directly to the door. Ra'tok spent a few moments admiring her handy-work. "What have you done?" the small man screamed.
"I believe, my dear sir," Ra'tok said with mock respect, "that the good woman has just disarmed you." With a light, barking laugh the Defel followed Mara out of the room, turned off the lights, and locked the door.
Out in the hallway, Mara saw they had two choices in direction. "Ra'tok, do you know which way we can get out of here?"
"I'm afraid I was also unconscious when they brought me to this dungeon."
The hallway had obviously been thrown together by the same interior decorator that had designed the room they were just in. Small glow torches lit the way in the two meter, square, stone corridor. Mara checked each direction against her danger sense and picked the appropriate path. They walked quickly and quietly, Mara admiring the physical form of her companion. He was the purist killing machine she had ever seen. Ra'tok was built like a Noghri, his muscles were like iron cables that rolled under his fur as he moved. He was bigger than the Noghri though, outweighing Leia's former body guards by twenty kilograms. He also appeared much smarter.
Mara stopped. "There are people ahead."
Ra'tok was not close enough to hear anything, but realized Mara had some sort of magic about her. "How many are there?"
"Two, I think."
"We can not sound the alarm," Ra'tok said. "I will take care of them. Come when you no longer sense them."
"How are you-"
"You will see," he said with a smile on his lips. And then he vanished. Mara could still feel him nearby, but he had simply disappeared from sight. "Or maybe you will not see," the invisible Ra'tok chuckled.
Mara could sense him running down the passage ahead of her, but could hear absolutely nothing. A few moments later, the two presence she had felt disappeared and Mara knew that Ra'tok had reached the sentries. She hastened to follow, and nearly yelped when she saw the two guards lying on the floor with their throats cut. Ra'tok was visible again and stood over the men, one of his retractable claws still visible. Mara knew Luke would have scolded her about the needless killing. Mara could have just as easily knocked the men unconscious, and they wouldn't have sounded the alarm. But Mara could see in Ra'tok's eyes that he thought of these men as little higher than the scum that had been sliding down the dungeon wall. They were unwanted vermin, and Ra'tok was the exterminator. In another light, they were armed men who would just as soon shoot them on sight as sound the alarm. "We need to keep moving."
Mara picked up one of the blaster rifles left by the guards and slung the long-range weapon over her shoulder. The guards had been positioned at a four-way intersection. Mara glanced down each of the three passages and picked one. The two of them walked together and noticed at once when the floor started to slope upward. As well as their altitude increasing, the light also increased. Mara heard Ra'tok growl slightly at the prospect of walking through brightly lit rooms, and she logged this oddity along with all the other questions she wished to ask her new found friend. Mara motioned that there were two more guards up ahead, but before Ra'tok could go take care of them, Mara held his shoulder back.
"Let me take care of these." She crept up behind them, still out of sight around a turn. Once she got close enough. She concentrated for a few brief moments. After about ten seconds she motioned that it was clear. Ra'tok turned the corner to see the two guards lying on the ground.
"They still live?"
Mara could tell that the question was more a "why?" than anything else. "They sleep," she simply responded. Ra'tok accepted this alternative and moved silently over the men.
The two of them were now in the upper levels of the pirate base, the potential for activity all around them. They had gone up a flight of steps and were standing on a clean white floor with gray walls. Mara crept down a hallway, but Ra'tok grabbed her arm and pulled her in the opposite direction. "I smell unconditioned air in this direction, Mara."
"I know," she responded, "but I have to check something in the pirate base. You don't have to come with me."
"I will go with you," he responded. Mara didn't mind, feeling very comfortable with the Defel in toe.
It was something Ronderj had said that was sticking in her mind. "When we heard you were in the area . . ." was what he had said. Who had told him she was in the area? She had never been to this part of Coruscant before, so the locals had no way of knowing who she was. Besides, she hadn't noticed anyone giving her any special notice, and her Jedi senses would have been able to pick up someone recognizing her. The only answer she could come to was she had been followed briefly enough to get a general idea of where she was heading and then Ronderj's band was informed. Snotzenexer had done it. Now she just wanted some proof.
The com room was down the hall on the right. It was still pretty early in the morning so the hallway was deserted. Mara sensed two people inside the com room. She would need one of them to access the computer for her, but two of them would be too much of a problem to control. "We're going in this room," she told Ra'tok. "There are two people inside. I'm going to shoot one, but I need the other alive. I want you to make it perfectly clear to him that if he doesn't do as I ask his life is forfeit."
Ra'tok nodded and went invisible. Mara took a breath, drew her stolen blaster pistol, and thumbed the setting to stun. She opened the door and felt Ra'tok breeze by here so fast that she nearly missed her shot. The room was rectangular and the door was at the left end on a long wall. There was one man sitting across from, and a little to the right, of the door and a second man on the other side of the room. The man in front of Mara turned around at the unexpected entry and received Mara's stun blast full in the face. Mara winced as she realized she had probably just scrambled the man's brain pretty badly, but her thoughts were quickly brought back to the urgency of the situation. The other man was already reaching for the alarm when Ra'tok materialized right in front of him. Before the computer junkie could respond to the apparition, Ra'tok had a claw from each hand secured against opposite sides of the man's neck.
"Move one muscle," the Defel growled in a voice barely audible, "and your jugulars will be hash." The man gulped, causing one of Ra'tok's claws to draw a drop of blood.
Mara moved over to the console where he was sitting. "I want you to access all the messages your group received yesterday after sixteen hundred."
The man's fingers were a blur of motion as he kept his posture perfect, not daring to slouch against Ra'tok's unforgiving claws. Within seconds there was a list of messages on the screen. "Open that one," Mara pointed to a message with the subject "Mutual Interest." Mara read the message quickly.
"You might be happy to know that a certain red-haired trader will be visiting your neck of the woods in the next few hours. I believe you and she crossed paths once a few years ago. She gave you quite a problem last time, leaving you looking for a hand. It would be considered a favor to me if she lost her way while in your neighborhood."
The message was signed "a friend in a high place." That solidified it for Mara. Few people had a way with words like Snotzenexer did. Mara looked up from the computer screen, "Thank-you very much."
Ra'tok realized she was done with the man and struck him violently across the head with his palm. The man flew out of his chair and hit the floor in a dreamless slumber. The two escapees made their way back into the hall and ran toward the exit. There were four guards at the entrance to the lair, but Mara blasted two while Ra'tok clobbered the others, and they were free.
After running a ways, Mara looked back and saw that the entrance to the hideout blended nicely with the surrounding structures, making the building look like just another unassuming warehouse in the lower levels of Coruscant.
Chapter 3
"Exercises in Futility"Husband and wife sat across from each other at breakfast, Sanson was eating her hot cereal while Snotzenexer was ignoring his plate and reading the morning news on a data pad. "Are we still in power?"
Snotzenexer looked up from his reading. "Momentarily. Though we could be better off."
"We can always be better off. How do you propose we get there?"
"How about those Republic pilots we captured?"
"Them," Sanson started, thinking of what to say, "they are in progress. We have another recruit to face their ace."
"Does it look hopeful?"
"He won't last two minutes."
"Who?"
"The recruit!" Sanson answered harshly. She had that feeling that Snotzenexer wasn't really listening to her.
"Why don't we clone them?"
Now she knew he wasn't listening. "We've been over this. They are too tall. All of them. None of them will come close to fitting in a modified TIE cockpit. We still aren't confident enough with the cloning process to alter their physical stature without the risk of changing anything else."
"Oh."
"Alex! Are you listening to anything I'm saying? We are a team here. You take care of the government. I take care of the military. We need to communicate better."
Snotzenexer had the datapad lowered a little and his eyes were half closed. Sanson had seen the look before. He was in the process of thinking some plan all the way through. He was analyzing every possible scenario and working out possible responses to each action. "I know what she's going to do," he finally said.
"Who?!"
"Mara Jade. She's going to rescue Skywalker."
"Of course she is. But she's only going to try."
"She will succeed unless we take further action."
"So why don't we just kill her?"
"The same reason we just didn't kill Skywalker. There a few people you can not just kill whenever you want to. If Mara died, people would notice. Those people would go looking for answers. They would find us. Then we would have to kill more people. No one is looking for answers about Luke, are they? No. If we had had him killed when he tried to storm my office, people would have demanded answers, and we would have had to come up with a story. There are tricks to disposing of important people."
"What's the trick with Mara Jade?"
"Tractor beams."
* * *
Admiral Sanson was still trying to figure out her husband's response as she rode the turbo lift in her Super Star Destroyer. Sometimes she wished that either he was just as dumb as everyone else was or that she was just as smart as he was. Of course in the end everything always worked out, but until you got to the end, things always seemed to get hairy.
The lift doors opened and she stepped into the 185th's private quarters. There was a lot of room on a Super Star Destroyer, and Sanson had found it necessary to section off a small part of it to facilitate this odd addition to the fleet. In reality, Sanson was now an admiral in the Republic Navy, and the three pilots whom she held captive were also members of the same navy. Since she was their commander now, she could order them into solitude if she really wanted. It was obviously stretching the rules a little, seeing as how they were captured while she was still part of the Empire, but that was life.
This small section of the Super Star Destroyer was isolated from the rest of the ship so these three youths never had any chance to interact with anyone else. There was a tech station with three different TIE models, extensive living quarters and an advanced flight simulator. Sanson was armed with a blaster, but she knew none of the boys would attack her, not because they feared her blaster prowess, though they should, but they knew she would be missed.
No one seemed to notice that she had entered their little world. The lift was sectioned off from the rest of the area with a force field. Sanson hadn't felt safe with such an easy way out of their imprisonment. They had tried to put a code on the lift, but the three pilots had cracked it before the lift had brought the code setter all the way back to the bridge.
Sanson looked at the three pilots working in the tech room. They were currently taking apart a TIE Interceptor, trying to see if it was possible to realign the engines with side mounted laser canons. "Jon," Sanson called to the group. The youngest of the three friends turned his head to regard the admiral's beacon. "Get over here. We have another recruit to try."
Jon picked up a rag to wipe some grease off his hands. "Be back in a second or two guys." Vince and Bep just sighed at their cocky friend, but couldn't deny that he was probably right. Unless this new guy was really good, Jon would finish him off in a couple seconds. If not, it would take him a couple minutes. No one had lasted even three minutes yet.
Jon walked over to the simulator where the admiral was waiting. "Where'd you pick up this guy?" Jon asked like he always did.
"Moisture farmer from Tatooine," was Sanson's traditional response.
"Should be fun," Jon completed the scripted intro to the fight. "What are we flying to day?"
"He wants to fly an X-wing," Sanson responded. "You of course know that you can pick any ship you want."
"And you know that I'm going to pick the same thing he does." Jon got in the machine after he programmed in his choice of ship and armament. "Who knows, I might even put my S-foils in attack position this time."
Sanson sighed, but knew that the cocky pilot was not exaggerating. Last time he had flown in the X-wing he had made his opponent burn out his engine by attempting an impossible maneuver. He then got a solid lock with a torpedo and wasted him, not firing one shot from his laser canons.
Sanson watched the display screen on the outside of the simulator, seeing exactly what Jon was. The two combatants started facing each other about five hundred klicks apart. "He's already trying to get a lock on me," Jon screamed for Sanson's sake. "What's wrong with this guy? Doesn't he know how to savor a battle? I might have to play with him a while first."
Sanson watched as Jon kept a straight path right into the missile lock. Tone was acquired almost immediately. Both X-wings stayed on the same elevated plane as they flew towards each other. The recruit fired his torpedo as soon as he had gotten a lock and Jon flew right into it. He focused his targeting computer on the small projectile. The only way this would work was if he never deviated from his course. It was next to impossible to hit one torpedo with another, unless they both kept a straight path. It took a long time to get a lock on the speedy object, and when Jon did, it was merely seconds away from impact.
Jon had to time it perfectly. If he fired and then dove out of the way, the missile aimed at him would veer down too, and his shot would miss. He had to fire, wait for impact, and then dive out of the way, or at least come as close as he could.
Jon waited a few precious seconds and fired. He waited another second, and then twisted into a spiraling dive. The torpedoes struck each other, creating a massive explosion right above his ship. Jon's opponent would briefly think he had scored a direct hit, his sensors in the area of the explosion not being able to pick up Jon's X-wing for about two seconds.
Jon looped back up and aimed at the position where he had last seen his opponent. Typical of a rookie pilot making a kill, the recruit had come to an almost stand still to watch the explosion. Jon had seen many pilots in real battle celebrate a kill only to get vaporized a few seconds later. Jon, unlike he had bragged, locked his S-foils into attack position, and activated his four fire-linked laser cannons. All four blasts made solid contact with their target, hitting the prone X-wing on the underside of the cockpit. Jon could have finished him, with another shot, but wanted to leave him alive.
The other pilot needed to get out of the way, and expectedly simply shot straightforward. Jon executed a one-eighty, bootlegger turn, flipping his craft over along its longitudinal axis. He pulled in right behind the recruit and watched as his opponent did all the textbook moves to shake his trail. "Try something original," Jon screamed as he made the expected counter to each of the maneuvers.
All the while the recruit tried to shake him, Jon had acquired a missile lock, and could have let fly at any time, but didn't. "Going for the record on length of missile lock," he informed Sanson.
"Stop playing with him and put him away," Sanson scolded. "I have more important things to do."
"Yes, sir." The next move the recruit tried was one that Jon had perfected. The "Scissors" involved several dips and dives while adjusting speed, forcing the trail to overshoot repeatedly. The result was to have the trail overshoot by too much and be forced out front. Jon knew where this pilot was going to emerge from the maneuver, and instead of following the loopy path, he made a direct route to the location and waited patiently. Two seconds later the unsuspecting X-wing pulled out of a climb right in front of Jon and the tall ace let the recruit have it. He unloaded each of his laser canons three times, each scoring a direct hit on the other X-wing's engine compartment, which was more than enough to blow the craft to pieces.
The screen in the simulator went blank and began to scroll through the statistics of the last run. Jon didn't bother to look at them knowing they were meaningless. Until Jon fought against a truly skilled opponent, the stats would continue to be meaningless. Sanson sighed at the futility of the whole experiment.
She of course was looking for an ace pilot. Someone she could clone and build a fleet of fighters. The Empire's philosophy had always been one of the swarm tactic. They had felt that by outnumbering the opponent two or even three to one, the overbalance would offset any skill or technological advantage the enemy might posses. This was becoming more and more of a problem, and had eventually led to the fall of the Empire. X-wing's turned into E-wings. Y-wings were replaced by B-wings. Each new advancement was faster, stronger, and possessed more firepower than its predecessors. The Empire meanwhile still flew TIE fighters, interceptors, and bombers. There were a few advanced TIE's available, but they took a considerably skillful pilot to operate.
As far as skill in pilots, the Empire simply didn't have enough time to produce skillful pilots because they were loosing them at alarming rates. On the Republic's side, there were so many willing recruits they were able to pick and choose among the pilots to obtain the most skillful.
Sanson and her techs were in the process of improving the TIE's to create a more imposing fleet. She had to do it quietly, of course, because since she was now a member of the Republic fleet, she had access to anyone of their fighters and could stock her fleet with them at a snap of her fingers. The problem of course was then she would have to fill the cockpits with people who were loyal to the Republic.
Sanson turned away from the simulator in disgust and didn't say a word as she walked away from the young ace. She would find someone who could beat him, she knew she would.
* * *
Mara was relaxing under the nozzle of a hot shower. She had already exhausted the stall's offering of soaps and perfumes and found that the grime that had been soaking into her back while she was hanging on that cursed cell wall did wash out. She was in a health resort she knew of on the upper level of Coruscant. It was only a couple kilometers from the palace and she had visited it before. Right now droid attendants were washing the clothes she had left in the wash bin outside the shower room. Normally the service allowed anyone who worked out to leave their sweaty clothes here after exercising and have them washed and in their locker, ready for the next time they came down to the gym. In Mara's case, they were the only clothes she had with her and she was giving the droids plenty of time to clean them.
As far as she knew, Ra'tok was in another shower room in the complex. She had been able to get them both in, once having a membership here and claiming to want to check the facilities after long absence to judge whether she wanted to renew that membership. She had parted company with the Defel, not expecting to see him again. He had gone in one of the many shower rooms the complex offered.
One of the problems with serving a clientele consisting of such varied species is the problem with dividing the changing and shower rooms. The largest clientele was still human, and the obvious men and women's rooms existed, but after that it got a little confusing. Some races had three different genders, while others had none. Ra'tok, for example, walked around without any clothes, as did Chewie. Separate rooms for those races' genders seemed ludicrous. Of course simply having a changing room for a race that didn't wear any clothes to begin with seemed silly. Then you had the problem when members of the same gender but different races didn't feel comfortable showering in the same room as others. The result was so many different changing rooms, that it was very possible to get a room all to yourself even though the building was almost always crowded.
Mara exited the shower stall a full twenty minutes after she had entered it. There were a few other women in the room, but none of them paid her any mind. She toweled off quickly and made use of one of the many hair dryers to dry her long red hair. She was glad to find her clothes cleaned and placed right where she had left them.
Five minutes later Mara was walking back through the main entrance and was more than a little surprised to see Ra'tok standing there patiently. His fur was much cleaner than it had been before, the rustic brown glowing with a pleasant sheen. Mara also noticed that he had obtained a dark visor for his eyes, undoubtedly to reduce the glare from the bright lights he was always complaining about. "This was an excellent choice, Mara. I have not felt this clean since th-"
"What are you still doing here?" Mara asked sharply. She walked toward the exit and was followed by Ra'tok.
"What do you mean? We have escaped together, have we not. I thought we should work together a while longer to make sure the pirates are behind us."
Mara stopped walking, now well outside the health center. "We are hundreds of kilometers away from them on a planet populated by over 750 billion beings. We are quite safe from Ronderj and his gang."
"Any enemy of Ronderj is a friend of Ra'tok, and friends stick together."
Mara looked at him slyly. "More like you have no way off Coruscant and want to get passage with me as to not draw attention to yourself."
Ra'tok bowed mockingly. "I am humbled in the presence of a woman with such vast wisdom."
Mara couldn't help but laugh at his honesty. "Okay, Snotzenexer probably has people around my ship anyway. I might need a little help. Where is it you wanted to go?"
"Where ever people are in need of aid, that is where I go."
Mara nodded. "Right, then you better stick with me. I've got a feeling everyone I know is in need of aid."
The walk to the ship was uneventful, neither party saying anything, both thinking about this odd alliance. Both Mara and Ra'tok had worked independently for the past ten years, relying on no one for anything. When still a ways from the palace ship dock where her ship was parked, Mara pulled up. "Snotzenexer's eyes are probably everywhere. In fact, he probably already has me in his sights. However, on the off chance he doesn't, it would be better if he thought I was alone."
Mara turned to look at Ra'tok, but he was gone. "Understood, Mara," the invisible Defel said. The two of them continued walking and soon reached the entrance to the dock. The entry consisted of a scanner and two posted guards. "Mara?" Ra'tok whispered quietly in her ear. Mara knew what he concerned about. The sensor would definitely pick up the invisible bodyguard, and that would create quite a mess. Mara noticed the entrance wasn't enclosed, and there was open air on the other side of the sensors.
"Have a little faith in me," Mara said, "and don't make a sound." Mara concentrated for a brief moment, and levitated the Defel high up into the air. She could sense some obvious discomfort in her new friend, but he didn't make a noise. Mara kept Ra'tok about six meters above her as she walked through the small entrance, the Defel easily clearing the small angled roof that covered the guard station. The computers beeped an affirmative that Mara was not carrying anything illegal. The sensors had detected so many lightsabers between Luke, Leia, the twins, and Anakin it had been necessary to remove that particular sensor pattern from the list of illegals. Mara thought the fact this was still the case might be the first mistake Snotzenexer had made thus far. Once past the entrance, Mara slowly brought Ra'tok down next to her.
"We will have to have a talk later," the Defel said in a deathly serious whisper.
Mara tried desperately to hide her grin. She could tell from the very uneasy emotions her friend was emitting he didn't often feel terrified, and didn't much enjoy it. The idea that such a warrior as Ra'tok had shown himself to be thus far should be scared of heights humored Mara to no end. Mara ignored the discovery for now and focused on the task at hand, which, though not a difficult one, might explode into action depending on the Republic's new president's disposition.
There was the usual activity going on in the hangars Mara passed. Ships were being loaded and unloaded, the cargo - mostly foods stuff - was being transported from the ships to several freight lifts that would send it down into the bowels of the palace where it would be prepared for the huge population of the palace.
No one paid any attention to Mara as she made her way to the private section of the dock. The government had allowed the former ruling family as much time as they needed to leave Coruscant. Leia had been kicked out of the presidential suite, but the lot for the Falcon was still reserved for her. Mara entered the private hangar and looked at the desolate bay. There were times when this section of the dock would be filled with as many as five ships. Luke's E-wing was often docked here as well as the twin's ship. There was still room on top of that for the Solos' occasional visitors like Lando and herself.
Right now, the only ship in the bay was the Jade's Fire. Mara's senses were at their limits, as she made her way nonchalantly toward her ship. She could sense no other life forms in the area, other than the one right behind her. She was still ten meters from her ship when she noticed the movement off to her right. Mara cursed herself for not picking up the life sign during her earlier scan, but realized why she hadn't when she saw it was a security droid.
The droid had a very nasty looking blaster rifle as a left arm, and it was currently pointed directly at Mara. "Mara Jade, you are under arrest for violating codes 74, 79, and 291, and for infringement upon the Gio Kahn Ordinance. You are asked to put down you weapons and wait for the authorities."
Mara had no idea what the codes or ordinances of which she was in violation were, but then she was pretty sure that the droid probably didn't know either. Mara scanned the bay quickly, looking about for more droids and found that there were at least three different cameras aimed directly at her. She remembered vividly how well Snotzenexer had been able to use security video to incarcerate Luke, so she had to be very cautious here.
"I'm afraid that my infractions are unknown to me," Mara asked as she sensed that Ra'tok was no longer at her side. "If you could expound on how I have broken them I would be very appreciative."
"You are asked to put down your weapons and wait for the authorities authorities authorities wait for the authorities. Put down the authorities. You are asked to put down wait for the wait for the wait fortheweaponsandwaitauthorities." Mara listened as the speech became more muddled and accelerated. The droid began to dance around in circles, its weapon discharging into the walls and ceiling at random.
"I believe the droid is dysfunctional," Mara heard Ra'tok whisper in her ear. "I believe it would be prudent of us to seek shelter and would not be out of line to assume the charges are false."
Mara knew he had played some role in this little incident and was also trying to protect her from the authorities by giving her a valid argument for running. They both dashed for the ship, barely avoiding two shots from the hyperactive droid. The roof above them was not open for their departure, but Mara had a remote opener in her ship that was capable of scanning the frequencies to find the right actuator codes. A couple of seconds later the hangar was opening to the outside and the ship lifted off, filling a room with repulser exhaust just as four security guards ran into the hangar.
Ra'tok was visible again, and sitting in Mara's copilot seat, taking inventory of the ship's controls. Mara was too busy to notice as she was scanning Coruscant's flight control frequencies to see if they were going to be forced into landing. Apparently Snotzenexer didn't want to make it that obvious he was hunting her, or else he didn't want to catch her at all, but merely let her know he was displeased with her, because no one was pursuing her and she had a clear sky to jump into hyperspace.
Ten minutes later they were safely in hyperspace, the starlines zipping by them like speeders at night. Mara turned to Ra'tok, preparing to quiz the strange alien, but noticed he was rather preoccupied with some of the modifications she had done to the ship. He had his clawed hands flying over the buttons and switches of one of her advanced scanners. "Are you transmitting a message to anyone at the moment," he asked, his voice reverting to a growl in this moment of seriousness.
Mara shook her head, not responding vocally to the Defel's back, but figured Ra'tok already knew this. "Why?" she asked.
"Because we are transmitting a low frequency, high bandwidth signal somewhere in the aft of the ship."
"A homing beacon," Mara swore at her clumsiness. "Of course."
"We can remove it."
"Yes of course we can," Mara said, thinking of all the possibilities. The problem with this was that while she could remove it and even stick it on something else, she had to do so in such a way to fool Snotxenexer - not an easy task. "The problem is he already has our heading in hyperspace."
"Where are we going?"
"Yavin IV," she responded, her mind still humming as to what she could do.
"The Jedi Academy," Ra'tok growled thoughtfully, "that would explain a lot."
"He already knows where we are going," Mara said out loud, hoping that vocalizing her thoughts would help her come up with a solution. "Even if we shoot past Yavin and head toward Corellia, as soon as we remove the tracking device, he'll know we simply went toward Corellia to throw him off, Yavin being the much more logical place for us to head."
"Besides," Ra'tok pointed out, "if you remove the device at all, he'll know we know he is tracking us."
"Good point," Mara said, "though, he probably already knows we know, or at least is assuming it."
"Are you sure that is a valid assumption?" Ra'tok asked, his pride a little wounded. "It was not easy to locate amongst the engine interference. He could not assume we would find it."
"Nothing on your technical skills, Ra'tok, but if I looked for it, I would find it. No he is much safer in assuming we know about it. The penalty for assuming we don't when we do is much worse than the opposite. Although, you do point out something important, he hid it on my ship in such away to make us earn its discovery. If he wanted us to find it, he could have placed it in the cargo hold or right in plain view on the underside of the ship."
"This argument seems to go around in circles," Ra'tok said, a little frustrated with the conversation. "If you want assume that he knows we will find it, then it follows to assume he wants us to find it. Therefore the only way to validate its hidden location is that he wanted us to believe he didn't want us to find it, which of course can not be assumed either."
"You're quite right. If he wanted us to find it, yet made it difficult to find, he wanted to keep the fact he knows we know a secret."
"Wouldn't it be much simpler to assume this Snotzenexer you talk of is not nearly as clever as you give him credit for?"
"That would be the worst assumption we could possibly make." Mara dwelt on that for a while. "While we are assuming he is pretty clever, we can't safely say that he doesn't also know that we know he wanted us to find the transmitter."
"Aaarrrrghhhh! Is there no end!" Ra'tok was apparently at the end of his patience. "If we are to assume that he is more clever than us, then we must also assume that we will not be able to unravel his plot without first obtaining more information than he has at his disposal. And since he is the one giving out information, this will never be possible."
Mara listened to this line of reasoning, enjoying the fresh attitude Ra'tok used to attack the problem. Of course they still needed a way to come to some sort of conclusion. They couldn't very well let Snotzenexer track them all over the galaxy, could they? "What do you propose we do then?"
"Since we cannot become smarter than he is, we have to change the flow of information. Right now he is providing all the information. As soon as we land on Yavin IV, we will begin to give to him information. As long as that information is in line with what he expects it to be, we have nothing to fear. He will know what we are doing, but we will also know everything he knows. As long as we control the information, we can control what he thinks. If he is as clever you say, then we can not allow the information to deviate from the expected or he will know we have done something against his will."
"In other words," Mara said, "if we drop out of hyperspace now and destroy the device, he will now we are about to go somewhere where we do not wish to be followed by him, and therefore are probably going to do something that will directly affect him."
"Exactly. He has two courses of thought open to him. He can either assume we are stupid or smart. If we are stupid, we do not find the tracking device, or if we do find it, we destroy it or attach it to something else and assume Snotzenexer is none the wiser. If we are smart, we find the device, but do not detach it immediately, knowing Snotzenexer already knows we are heading to Yavin IV. Like you said before, the penalty for assuming we are dumb, is much greater than otherwise."
"So the longer we act smart, and do nothing drastic to the tracking device," Mara started, testing out this new line of reasoning, "the more we'll convince Snotzenexer his assumptions are correct. We will be doing what he wants us to, yet at the same time controlling the information he has. There is one problem I have with this. If we allow the tracking device to stay on our ship for too long, Snotzenexer will know we are up to something. I mean the most obvious thing to do is to remove the tracking device as soon as we reach Yavin IV. There would be no way for him to know where we are going then."
Ra'tok smiled widely. "Since that is what he expects us to do, that is exactly what we will do. We will take the device off. Snotzenexer will know we have done so after the device remains dormant for far too long."
"Then what is the point?" Mara asked. "If all he wanted to know was where we were going originally, he could have gathered that from our hyperspace jump outside of Coruscant. Your line of reasoning made sense up till now."
"There is something that you and I still don't know, or at least, according to Snotzenexer we do not know it." Mara waited patiently for Ra'tok to continue. "There is another tracking device on this ship."
"What?! Why didn't you say so earlier? Did you detect it with the other one?"
"I have no basis for saying that other than it is the only possible conclusion to this line of reasoning. There is another tracking device on this ship that we will never find unless we tear the ship apart from top to bottom, something you probably would have done had Snotzenexer not attached the other more obvious device. You said yourself Snotzenexer merely wants you to know that he knows where you are, or that he is not going to leave you alone. This device we found is meant to be just that. We are meant to find it and remove it. It is a game. If one side suddenly stops playing, the other side becomes cautious."
"Then how can you be sure that isn't all this device is. Why does there have to be another device?"
"Because like you said before, all we have to do is remove the device once we get to the Academy and he will have no idea where we are. And, of course, the penalties for assuming we have no additional tracking device are much more costly than the opposite way of thinking."
Mara smiled broadly. "All this time, with Thrawn and with Snotzenexer, we have been trying to out think them and failing miserably. What we need to do first is think at the same level first. You are absolutely right. There probably is another tracking device on this ship. In fact there might be several. From now on we have to always assume he knows more than us, because then he won't."
"You learn quickly, Mara."
"Watch it, Ra'tok, don't go assuming the role of the teacher just yet. You're starting to sound like someone else I know."
"Really," Ra'tok barked a laugh, "when do I get to meet him?"
"Soon, I hope."
* * *
The next morning's breakfast turned out the same way every other one had. Sanson was sitting across from her husband while he was eating and reading at the same time. The conversation, however, started differently. Snotzenexer asked the first question. "Honey, do you know what the market selling price is for a ton of grain?"
"Excuse me," she replied, nearly choking on the oddity of the question.
"How about the pharmaceutical market? Do you know anything about that?"
Sanson didn't reply this time, she just stared across the table at her husband with her fork poised over her plate.
"Next question: Do you know what prolan gas is?"
Now Sanson dropped her fork on her plate, gathered her hands together under her chin with her elbows on the table, and settled in for a long stare until her husband started explaining a few things.
"I just thought that if you knew some of those things then it could save me some research." Snotzenexer shrugged his shoulders in an "oh well" and went back to eating, ignoring his wife's penetrating stare.
"No Alex, it's not that easy anymore. What's going on?"
"Are you ready to make a military move?"
"Don't try and change the subject. What were you just talking about?"
"I'm not changing the subject," Snotzenexer said calmly. "You will make a military strike, allowing me to manipulate the grain market, which in turn will allow me to increase the pharmaceutical market, and finally allow me to create a large amount of prolan gas."
Sanson relaxed slightly, leaning back in her chair. "A military strike?" she said, reflecting on what he had said and realizing this was as much as she was going to get out of him. "I think I can manage that."
Chapter 4
"Veck"Warin Page looked at his field disconsolately. It was beautiful, really. Rows upon rows of grain, wheat, and corn covered 16 square kilometers of land and contained three times that much in actual crop.
Veck was an interesting planet for many reasons. It was unique in that it was the only habitable planet in the sector with over 30 percent oxygen in its atmosphere. Because of this high oxygen level in the air, organisms under five kilograms could not survive, or at least not flourish. The only small life existed in the vast saltless oceans that covered two fifths of the planet's surface. The largest continent on the planet (there were only three: two in one hemisphere, one in the other) took up over one third of the planet's surface and was divided in half by a huge plateau that ran north and south. Geologists have come to a unanimous decision as to the reason for this. During the ice age of the planet, the relative uniformity of the continent allowed the glaciers to move in from the east and west of the continent unhindered, meeting in the middle and pinching the continent together into a plateau.
The plateau was home to most of the continent's non-sentient life. It wasn't a true plateau because there was a mountainous spine that traversed its center that was several kilometers above sea level, but the majority of the plateau was only three kilometers above sea level. At this elevation, the oxygen content in the air was depleted, making it ideal for most livestock and other larger animals, yet too cold during the winter, early spring, and late fall for the smaller animals.
Numerous rivers came down out of plateau and filtered themselves through the low lands until they emptied into the oceans. Through coordination with the livestock farmers on the plateau, the rivers were filled with nitrates and fertilizer to provide natural irrigation and fertilization for the crops below. The trade off was that the rivers were not fit to drink.
Of course the major selling point of the planet is that of its mineral deposits in the soil. There was no natural salt on the planet. There were instead large amounts of limestone in underground caves that would seep up through the ground. In general, the soil makeup was as perfect as it could be for the prosperity of vegetation.
The end result of all of this was that you had an enormous continent with perfect soil, natural irrigation and fertilization, with no insects, and very little elevation variation. Then, about two hundred years ago, someone invented 3D farming. This development allowed farmers to triple their crop size as well as reduce sun scorching that was a problem on the relatively cloudless planet. There were several rainstorms during the summer months, but otherwise, there were but wisps of clouds in the sky.
The idea of 3D farming was to not only grow crops vertically, but horizontally as well. In Warin Page's field, he had erected three-meter high walls every three meters. The result was cubic channels that ran the length of the field. The channels had to run east to west to ensure that the crops would get the sun they needed in the early growth periods. When the gundark days of summer came, the foliage in the channels was so thick that the plants shaded each other.
The walls were made out of a thin wire mesh encasing one-half to two-thirds of a meter of soil. The thickness of the wall depended on what type of crop was growing there. You had to account for both sides of the wall since the left side of one channel was the right side of the adjacent channel.
Harvesting these channels were done by huge, droid combines. They were equipped with a row of U-shaped vibroblades that fit the inside of the channel, cutting the crop at the root. Large conveyers then brought the cut stalks into the combine and sorted the crop from the stems and leaves.
Over the years the process had been perfected so well that there was very little wasted energy or bad crop. Flooding was rarely a problem because of the channel setup, floodwaters didn't have the opportunity to flow over the whole field, but were confined to one, maybe two channels. Many farmers reinforced their walls with wood or some other biodegradable structural substance.
All of these things were going through Warin's mind as he looked from his elevated house at his expanse of crops, now three-quarters of the way through the growing season. Behind him droids were building three more compressive storage bins to add to his collection of already twenty-two bins. These were hard times for Warin and for the rest of the population of this vast continent of which 99.998% was covered by farms that looked exactly like his. Even with the large coastal cities that provided the rest of the continent with everything that wasn't edible, the average population per square kilometer of the continent was still less than one.
Warin had sixteen square kilometers of cropland and a family of three children and a beautiful young wife. He had inherited the farm from his father and in each of the seven years since he had taken over the farm had seen an increase of at least five percent in crop production. This was over-shadowed by the fact that each year the farm saw a loss of at least fifteen-percent in profits.
The problem was very simple: supply and demand. Warin understood that his farm alone could feed about one tenth of his continent's population. He read yesterday that the latest figures on the surplus went something along the lines of this: the planet of Veck produced two and a half billion times more food each year than they could ever eat in a thousand years. All of the power plants ran off of excess crop. Vehicles could now operate off of grain alcohol. They even developed rockets that could run off ethanol.
There hadn't been a problem 30 years ago when the Empire existed. The Veckorians weren't human, well, not entirely. Their skin was a little too green; their shoulders seemed a little too wide for their thin waists; they were a little too tall for their short legs; and they had a few too many ears, but otherwise they were very much human. The Empire's treatment of aliens is well document and the Veckorians were no different. The Empire controlled vast amounts of territory and had trillions upon trillions of people that needed food, much of whom lived in space, far away from fertile soil.
Veck had produced the most grain for the least cost (not that the Empire ever paid for it), so they were reigned into service as the Empire's main foodstuff planet. When the Empire was removed, the Veckorians found they could now operate for themselves, keeping the profits of their labors. It was motivation like this that led to the vast improvements in farming technique.
Immediately the Veckorians realized they would have to depend on outside help to succeed. They knew the demand was out there. The Veck farmers could produce such large amounts of food at so little cost that any other world could buy twice as much grain as it needed for around half the price it would cost to do it themselves. The only problem was transportation. Veck was not an ore rich planet. They had plenty of iron in the soil from which the crops benefited greatly, but there was no way to extract it without ripping up half of the farms. Because of this they did not have many ships at all, and certainly no large ships required for efficiently shipping food.
Without the Empire to control the trade, different traders jumped at the opportunity to deal grain with Veck, knowing they could buy extremely low and sell high. Because of the extreme profit available, the fight over trading rights turned into exactly that - a fight. One person emerged as the victor, a former Imperial captain named Jorgan Zeth. He turned into a ruthless dictator of the space lanes between Veck and the other worlds. Any unauthorized air traffic into or out of Veck was shot down without any questions asked.
Captain Zeth wasn't satisfied with controlling all the trade with Veck; he wanted to make a killing. He had two markets with which he dealt. He had the surrounding planets, which depended on the grain from Veck, and he had Veck, which depended on selling its grain to the outside planets. With the outside market, Zeth reduced the supply, which obviously increased the demand, thus sending the prices through the roof. With Veck, Zeth decreased his demand coinciding with his decrease in supply to the outside, which increased the supply on the planet, thus sending the price through the basement. Zeth was able to by grain from desperate farmers at mere credits per ton, while he sold it to hungry people for several thousand credits per ton.
Jorgan Zeth quickly became the wealthiest man in the sector and wasted no time in building up his fleet of depleted warships. He had gained control of the food trade on Veck with two Star Destroyers, three Dreadnaughts, and four Escort Carriers. He didn't need to worry about increasing his trade fleet, since he never planned on expanding. Each year his profit margin increased by incredible amounts and if he increased trade he would destroy the perfect balance between supply and demand he had developed. Plus, to increase trade meant he had to grow in size and he wanted to remain local, else he might become vulnerable to attack.
Zeth had been attacked before by the worlds that he was cheating. Zeth had been able to bribe pirates to try and control any other grain trade that came into the sector from other means, and they were mostly successful. There wasn't an excess of foodstuff that could be shipped in. With the fall of the Empire, most of the planets that didn't join the New Republic found they barely had enough food to feed themselves much less feed others. A few financially minded people tried to bring meat or grain into the sector, but they tried it as a business venture and were not prepared for the force applied by Zeth and his pirates.
As far as the people on Veck were concerned, there was nothing they could do. Some people suggested they cut back their production so they could get a better price out of Zeth. The only problem was they were already producing a thousand times more crop than Zeth was using. Which meant if they wanted to make any significant changes, they would have to put 99.9% of the farmers out of work. Even if they did this, there was a large portion of the public that was pretty sure Zeth wouldn't change his prices one bit.
The only thing they could hope for was that Zeth would decide to expand and they would be able to sell just a little bit more of their grain. Warin hoped for this as much, if not more, as anyone else. His wasn't the largest farm on the continent, wasn't even in the top ten percent, but he was one of the few farmers who owned all of his land and equipment. Warin's great-great-great-great-great grandfather had been one of the first farmers to use 3D farming to its full potential. His grandson had been able to buy the very expensive land back from the bank. His grandson had been able to make enough money so he could equip the farm with the newest equipment. His grandson, Warin's father, had miraculously been able to stay out of debt during the Imperial occupation. Now Warin owned his farm with no mortgage hanging over his head.
Because of Warin's financial situation, any sale he made was immediate profit. At the end of this harvest he would have fifteen storage bins of good grain and ten storage bins of corn, each holding a thousand tons. He figured that in a normal market, he could get about two hundred credits for a ton of grain. If he could sell his stores, he'd make five million credits instantly.
Right now, Warin was looking at his crop realizing most of it would have to be burned. Very little was wasted on Veck, but heating homes with grain was very inefficient. He knew he could sell some of it, but he chose not to, letting his share go to his financially strapped neighbor. Since Zeth was only asking for a thousandth of the total crop produced, it was decided by the government of Veck that each farmer should be allowed to sell a thousandth of his crop so no one farmer got the upper-hand. An average crop was about three thousand tons. Warin's was larger than that and his share was around five tons.
Warin's neighbor, Clarq Gynir, walked up beside the young farmer silently, not wanting to disturb the man as he looked at his life laid out before his eyes. Warin had seen him approaching in the morning light a few minutes earlier and heard the faint rustle in the grass as he stopped behind him. "It's beautiful isn't it," he stated, not really asking a question. "The sun picks up the dew drops on the green leaves, and the channels sparkle as if they were filled with gold." Warin sighed deeply, "If only that were the case."
Clarq didn't say anything, having already thanked his friend for his generosity. With Warin's share, Clarq would be able to sell eight tons of grain today. The sad part is he would only get about one hundred sixty credits for it. "You know," Clarq said as the two of them turned from the view to get to work, "the funny part about this whole thing is that we are in a huge depression, but no one is going hungry."
"No one on this planet anyway," Warin said, stealing any irony Clarq had been planning. Warin understood what Clarq was saying. Food was not a problem. Heat during the winter was not a problem. The problem was they were stagnant. The banks realized the problems and had been kind thus far in not reclaiming as many farms as they could have, but people were still digging themselves deep into debt with no hope to climb out.
The two men walked to Warin's equipment shed. The shed was the biggest in an eight hundred-kilometer radius. Warin opened the shed, looked at his all-purpose hauler, and smiled. "Still have those wheels?" Clarq asked rhetorically.
Warin examined the large rubber tires. "They're still the simplest machines in the universe. A little more economical than yours, huh."
Warin had hit a sore spot on Clarq's ego, but a spot that was fast healing, and he smirked back. Clarq had to sell most of his equipment because he couldn't afford the power cells required to run the repulsor hauler technology. Warin's hauler could run on repulsers also, but his father had been smart enough to get a model with a combustion engine for conversion to cheaper fuel. "Runs on ethanol produced right here on the farm," he said.
The two friends climbed up into the elevated cab and road out of the shed, down the road, and up to Clarq's farm. Clarq's oldest son was waiting for them, sitting on top one of the four storage bins the Gynir's owned. He was perched on the peak of the angled roof some seven meters in the air. Warin moved the hauler next to the building and Clarq's son, Filip, attached the filler hose to the port.
Ten minutes later, Warin, Clarq, and, after much begging, Filip were bumping down the road to the nearest space dock. The truck's suspension was poor and designed for when the hauler was fully loaded. This hauler could carry fifty tons, and Warin could tow two more fifty-ton trailers behind it, making this load of only eight tons seem rather pathetic. As they neared the facility, Warin became worried. There were several other haulers waiting around the dock. The facility allowed for the emptying of two hauler bins at once, but the two trucks parked in the stations seemed to be inactive. The other three haulers were simply waiting in line for the Zeth traders to arrive.
"Maybe they're just late, Dad," Filip offered from the back seat, seeing that neither of the adults wanted to say it. Warin looked at Clarq, wanting to let him know what they did was up to him, but Clarq was staring at the empty dock where a large ship should be. The Zeth logo was quite hideous, a contorted image of the captain's face with a stalk of corn and a piece of grain sticking out of either side of his mouth, but Clarq would do anything to see that logo on any type of ship right now.
Zeth had a bad habit of missing some of his appointments with the local farmers. This meant that he simply wasn't collecting anything that day, and anyone who was scheduled to sell on that day missed out. Warin glanced at his chrono. They were due to dump their load in about fifteen minutes. Warin had some minor connections with the local government who negotiated policy with the evil trader and knew what kind of schedules he arranged. Zeth usually scheduled eight to ten farmers a day at fifteen-minute intervals. There were five other haulers waiting ahead of them, and they were fifteen minutes early, which meant that Zeth was at least an hour late, though he usually arrived at least an hour early to make sure everything at the dock was operating correctly.
Warin didn't get directly in line, not wanting to box in the people ahead of him. Warin flipped off the engine and swung down from his cab. He walked toward the congregation of men, all of whom had left their vehicles to complain about Captain Zeth. The men stopped their conversation when they saw Warin coming and acknowledged his presence with a wave or a tip of the hat. The young man was well liked, mostly because of his helpful nature during this time of hardship.
"Any of that yours?" one of the men asked, gesturing to Warin's hauler. They all watched as Clarq helped his son down from the high cab. Any of the men who might not have known about Warin's generosity, understood when they saw Clarq and his son.
"Does it matter?" Warin responded, beckoning in turn to the empty space dock.
"Ah, send it all to blazes, I say," another man spat, "probably get a better price for it, anyway."
"Not far from the truth," someone else spoke up, "Trib Kornnet was telling me that he sold his share a week ago for eighteen."
"A ton?" one of the younger men asked.
"No, a kilogram," a farmer slapped the former speaker," yes, a ton."
"There was a time," the oldest man there said, "when you could get two hundred fifty credits for a ton of old grain."
"Do you think he'll show up," Filip asked innocently when they approached.
The five men who had been standing there slowly shook their heads. Warin was told three farmers had already left before he arrived. There was silence for a while, until one man finally broke it. "Well, I'll be seeing you fellas around." With that, he left the huddle, got into his hauler, and left. The exit was slow at first, but the last two men left together, leaving Warin, Clarq, and Filip standing there alone.
"Do you want me to move my hauler into the unloading station, or . ." he didn't want to have to finish his thought.
"If you don't mind," Clarq responded, "I have nothing better to do today. I can give him another hour if he needs it."
The gesture was almost funny. Here they were going out of their way to accommodate someone who was going out of his way to oppress them. They waited an hour but Zeth or any of his cohorts didn't show up. Warin was about to ask if Clarq needed a loan when Filip pointed to the sky. "Look!"
They both did and nearly fainted with relief at the sight of a heavy transport coming down through the atmosphere. It didn't take Warin long to realize something was wrong. "That ship is at least twice as big as the normal ship they bring." Warin squinted into the rising sun at the side of the huge ship. "The Zeth insignia is missing too."
Neither farmer could think of anything to say as the ship settled to the ground. The ship was indeed much larger than the normal fifty-ton ship that came. Warin guessed that this ship could carry at least one hundred fifty if not two hundred tons. The pillions stretched out to the landing pad and relaxed into their supports as hydraulic gas was exhaled under the weight of the empty cargo ship. Soon the engines were turned off and the ship was stably resting on the pad.
The next few seconds passed excruciatingly slow before the hatch on the underside of the ship opened and extended to the ground. Both Warin and Clarq watched in amazement as a woman descended the ramp. They couldn't remember Zeth employing any women. Well, the man had lots of women, but they didn't fly freight, and they certainly weren't as old as this woman was. She wasn't ancient, maybe early to mid forties, but she kept her age well. She was thin and athletic with dark hair that simply refused to go gray. She was wearing a military outfit with several decorations and a rank of admiral.
Clarq finally spoke. "I have two shares to sell totaling eight tons," he almost whispered.
"Speak up," the woman barked.
"Uh, I have eight tons."
"Eight tons!" she screamed, causing the two men to back down considerably. "I'm looking to fill my ship. That's two hundred twenty-five tons. So unless you have twenty-eight more haulers filled with eight tons, I'm not interested."
"But I have two shares," he tried again, offering the two vouchers he was carrying at arm length.
The woman took a few steps forward and snatched them from his hand. She looked at them briefly, trying not to show her disgust. "These are vouchers given by your government to sell your crop to Zeth Trading Company."
Clarq nodded.
"I'm not part of Zeth Trading Company."
Clarq frowned.
"I don't care about vouchers, I don't care about shares, and I don't care about eight tons. All I care about is filling my ship with two hundred twenty-five tons of grain. I have enough credits on hand to pay you two hundred per ton, but only if you can get it to me in the next hour."
"T-t-two h-hundred per t-ton?!" Clarq asked.
"Who are you?" Warin asked before the woman could make a retort at Clarq.
"I'm Admiral Sanson of the Republic Navy, and the next person that asks me a question that isn't "Where do I put my grain" or "Where do I sign" isn't going to sell any grain today.
Warin and Clarq didn't need any more help, and twenty minutes later they were pulling up to the unloading station with Warin's hauler pulling two trailers loaded down with one hundred fifty tons of Clarq's grain. Clarq had said they should be selling at least some of Warin's crop, but Warin would here none of it. "I have a feeling this won't be our last chance to sell at these prices and quantities. Plus, two hundred and twenty-five tons would hardly put a dent in my storage bins."
After unloading, they hurried back for another hundred twenty-five tons. Sanson was still there when they returned. As Clarq and his son were just finishing emptying the last of the trailers, Warin tried to engage the admiral in some type of conversation. "So what happened to Zeth? The last trading ship that came in here that wasn't affiliated with him got shot down and the farmer with whom he traded got his fields burned."
"I think Zeth is putting out some fires of his own right now," Sanson replied. "Have you been keeping up to date with the news reels?" Warin shook his head. "Well the Republic has just undergone a leadership change and we are looking to bring the entire galaxy together or at least stabilize the ruling bodies. Zeth's little operation out here was one of the first hot spots on the list we had targeted. He won't bother you anymore."
They both watched Clarq and his son reset the unloading station for a new hauler as Sanson continued. "If you can't make it to the capitol city tonight, you might want to watch your holo-vid. The president of the Republic will be giving a speech tonight explaining his plan for revitalizing this planet's economy and bringing an end to galactic hunger. I think you guys are going to do pretty well in the years to come. I think he plans to set a price of at least two hundred fifty a ton for grain and three hundred for corn until you guys get back on your feet."
"What kind of tonnage export are you looking at a year?"
"As much as you can give us," Sanson replied, but then looked at the vast fields that surrounded the dock, "or at least as much as we can carry away. Two fifty to three hundred per ton is pretty expensive for traders right now so it will help them to operate in large amounts to increase profit. I figure we'd probably be able to get at least ten ships a day like mine to this dock alone. You figure you got hundreds of docks like this all over the place. We could be pulling out quite a load each day."
Warin was smiling from ear to ear as he drove back to his farm and started to take the wheels off his hauler. He had a few power packs saved for special occasions and with the work his hauler would be given in the next few months, he didn't want to have to depend on wheels.
As he was changing his machine over, he kept wondering what it must have been like to see Zeth's fleet of pirate ships destroyed by the Republic fleet.
Two hours earlier
"What is it?!" Jorgan Zeth screamed at his sensor officer. He was just prepping his cargo ship for its daily commute down to the surface of Veck to pick up another fifty tons from a group of desperate farmers. He was already late with different glitches popping up on the old ship when the call came in from the bridge. He was thinking about calling today's run off as it was, and now, if this problem with the bridge took up too much of his time, he would definitely call the run off.
"Sir," the young man said over the old com system, "there's a group of five ships approaching in hyperspace. It looks as if they'll drop out around the Forgan Cluster."
"Can you give me their make-up?" Zeth responded, his mood improving. Not only did this mean he wouldn't have to make the bothersome run down to the planet, but now he'd get to blow up some ships too.
"There seems to be four relatively small ships and one large one. It appears to be about the size of Corvette sir. The other's are no more than freighters or carriers."
A small fleet, Zeth thought, if you could even call it such. His collection of ships had grown greatly since he had first stared out. He now had two Victory class Star Destroyers, four Dreadnoughts, two Corellian Corvettes, and a collection of smaller ships owned by hired mercenaries. He had a very small region to protect with his fleet so he often just threw the entire thing at any intruder no matter how small. It was likely that one Star Destroyer could handle this quintet of ships.
"Radio the rest of the fleet," Zeth ordered the bridge as he worked his way to his command post, "tell them to meet at the Forgan Cluster in two minutes. The Forgan Cluster was the result of two moons colliding over the planet Forgan. Forgan did not have a very strong gravitational pull and the debris stayed in orbit around the planet. The planet had been just slightly larger than either of the two moons, but it had no life of its own.
The hyperspace jump to the cluster took only a minute, and the rest of the fleet was there to watch the five much smaller ships jump out of hyperspace. The sensor officer had been correct in guessing the identity of the largest ship as a Corvette. There were also two cargo ships and two fighter carriers. The way Zeth's fleet was positioned, they had the backdrop of the Forgan sun right behind them, giving his fleet an impressive silhouette.
"Sir," the communications officer spoke up, "they are trying to contact us."
"Of course they are," Zeth replied. "Put it on speaker."
"Unknown fleet, this is Commander Tabien of the Republic. We are on our way to the planet Veck to pick up a shipment of food. We request safe passage."
"Under who's authority?" Zeth asked as he motioned to his weapons officer to power up the laser batteries.
"Authority? I was under the impression this sector was part of the free trade agreement between the Republic and the defeated Empire."
"Free trade?" Zeth responded, trying to make to words sound like cursing. "I don't remember signing anything. I control all the trade that goes on in this sector. You are trespassing, and I suggest you leave at once."
"Perhaps we could negotiate some type of trade agreement-"
Zeth motioned with his finger and the Star Destroyer unleashed its firepower on the prone Corvette. The Star Destroyer gunners had had the better part of a minute to train their sights on the motionless ship and twenty banks of turbo lasers struck home on the ships midsection. The ship shook violently as it convulsed internally and then exploded outwardly in a ball of flame that was quickly extinguished by the vacuum of space.
Not three seconds later, ten large capitol ships jumped in behind Zeth's fleet. "Sir!" the officer screamed. "There are five Calamarian Cruisers, four Imperial class Star Destroyers, and a Super Star Destroyer."
"What?! Where did they come from?!"
"They must have jumped in from behind the sun. Our sensors couldn't pick them up sir."
"It was a trap."
Zeth didn't even bother to check which officer said this last, blatantly obvious comment. He just drew his side arm, turned, and fired. The man took the shot full in the chest.
The communications officer spoke up, unfazed, as if this random execution was common place. "Sir, they want us to surrender."
"Fat chance of that happening, don't you think?" Zeth replied
"But sir, they have us severely out-gu-"
Another blaster shot - another dead officer on the deck. Unfortunately, it was the weapons officer. It didn't really matter though, because as soon as the fleet didn't unanimously surrender, the Republic fleet opened fire.
Sanson was looking at the scene from her command post on her Super Star Destroyer the Dark Fist. She was surprised, really, that the Republic had allowed her ship to keep its name. She was more surprised, however, that the Republic had beaten the Empire after she had seen what kind of hoops they had to jump through just to blow up some ships.
Here was Jorgan Zeth, one of the biggest pieces of space dung still left in the galaxy, and the Republic still couldn't justify removing him from power until he made a move against the Republic. Sanson had had to use droid-controlled ships to lure the former Imperial captain into firing on non-hostile targets. Then, even after he had blown up the Corvette, they still had to offer him the choice of surrendering before they could toast his hide.
The lost Corvette had been completely droid controlled with a voice recording from a fake Commander Tabien. It was an old ship, as were the other four, but Sanson was glad that neither of the cargo ships had been destroyed. She wanted to take a trip down to the surface of Veck before her husband arrived later that night.
"Is there anything left?" Sanson asked after only a few minutes of battle.
"There seems to be a Star Destroyer that might make it and many of the smaller mercenary ships are scrambling, but everything else is pretty much a loss."
"Is the Star Destroyer Zeth's?"
"I don't think so."
That's a shame, Sanson thought.
* * *
The city of Veckory was the capitol city on the large western continent that housed the huge farming complexes. The city square was really more of a rectangle, but no one seemed to notice. There was a medium sized amphitheater at one end of the square. The square was one hundred fifty meters across with four lane roads on either side of it and a large fountain in the middle. It stretched back from the amphitheater almost four hundred meters, ending in a city park with plenty of trees and some nice streams. Bordering the four lane roads, and continuing for the next few kilometers were huge skyscrapers, boxing the square in nicely. Right now it was filled with more people than was previously thought actually lived on the continent.
Alex Snotzenexer, former Admiral in the Imperial Navy, former President of the Varion Imperial Bank, and current President of the Republic strode to the microphone in the center of the amphitheater. He spent a couple minutes behind the podium, making the billions of people both in attendance and watching the broadcast wait in silence as he composed his thoughts. He heard there were some speakers that would just stand in front of the silent audience for an hour without saying anything, making a huge impression on the crowd before presenting their speech. Snotzenexer didn't plan on doing that. He had never been a terrific speaker. It wasn't how he spoke, it was what he said that made the crowds flock to hear him.
Everyone who was anyone knew why the President was here, or at least knew what had happened at the Forgan Cluster earlier that day. They knew the long suffering under Zeth was over, they just weren't exactly sure what it was going to be replaced with. Everyone who had the opportunity did research on Snotzenexer and was pleased with what they found. Every where the president went he spread wealth and prosperity. If ever there was a place that needed wealth and prosperity, it was Veck.
Snotzenexer cleared his throat to make sure everyone was listening and to make sure the sound system wouldn't go shrill on him. "People of the planet of Veck, most importantly, farmers of Veck, I have some very good news for you tonight. Starting tomorrow, there will be ships coming from every corner of the galaxy wanting to by grain and corn from you. They will not haul one one-thousandth of your crop, but will take as much as they can carry. They will not buy it from you at twenty credits a ton, but at no less than two hundred fifty credits per ton."
Snotzenexer had planned to pause here for applause that he was willing to wait fifteen minutes for, but none came. Either this society didn't clap, or they were far too shocked to do anything but listen. "Zeth and his pirates attacked Republic ships today and have been dealt with. They will never bother you again. There are many planets in the Republic recovering from wars or undergoing droughts or famines. They need food and you will be their saviors."
Snotzenexer moved aside slightly and motioned to a tall Twi'lek standing behind him. "This is my head of trade operations, Cog Fardin." Snotzenexer paused in thought wondering how his plans might have changed had Mara Jade accepted that job when he had offered it to her. "He is going to work out an arrangement with your government to regulate the selling during the initial few weeks of renewed business so there isn't mass confusion. After the initial flux is slowed, you will be able to work out the details with the actual traders."
Snotzenexer was amazed how quiet the huge crowd was remaining. "You might look at me as a savior - a hero to be worshipped, but I tell you I am no different than anyone else. It is you who should be commended. You have stood fast through the tough times of Zeth and the Empire. Now your suffering is at an end. If you still insist on thanking me, you need only to allow this planet to do what it was intended to do from the beginning of time: feed the rest of the galaxy!"
Snotzenexer raised his arms and stood back from the podium, signaling the end of his speech. What happened next wasn't as much applause as it was a level seven ground quake. The throng of people erupted into a kind of raucous cheer that Snotzenexer had never experienced before. Behind the president, Cog Fardin, the trade advisor, said that he thought it went well, though Snotzenexer could not hear one word of it.
The celebration of noise lasted long after Snotzenexer had left the stage of the amphitheater, and even as his shuttle lifted away from the planet an hour later, he could still hear the noise. The shuttle landed in the bay of the Dark Fist, and once Sanson heard the report her husband was safely aboard, she gave the order to return to Coruscant.
Chapter 5
"Pulled out of the Pit"The drink sat mostly untouched, slowly bubbling away the carbonation. It wasn't that the patron didn't care for the alcoholic beverage that sat undisturbed before him. On the contrary, it was still full because seven similar glasses sat empty next to it. Next to those glasses sat a trophy. The trophy was about half a meter high; a wood base with four wooden posts connected to another wooden base. Each post was a spiral, trimmed with gold and highly reflective. On top of the second base was a golden fighter poised at two angles, as if it were about to enter a banking climb. The fighter wasn't solid gold, but merely leafed. Still, the craftsmanship on the trophy was excellent and probably cost the tournament officials several hundred credits.
"It's a piece of crap," the man sitting in front of the glasses said, spit flying off the last "P." "It isn't even worth one of these," he said, finally hoisting the last glass, still containing liquid. He brought it slowly toward his mouth, or more appropriately, his face. The man was in an odd position: either try to drink through his eye, or put the glass down and try again when his arm was a little more sober.
The bartender decided this might be a good time to start cleaning up the spent glasses. This man had obviously competed in one contest today, and the bartender didn't want him to think the accumulation of empty glasses was another. He'd seen men involved in those types of games before, and there was never a winner.
"The prize money was good," the drinker slurred. The bartender could attest to this, as he had cashed the prize voucher for him two hours ago. "But this," he made a grab for one of the four wooden posts and would have knocked the trophy off the bar had it not been for the dexterous bartender, "this," he decided to point, "this is worthless."
After two recent failures, the man steadied himself and reached for the full glass again. He got it, and most of the liquid found its way into his mouth. The drink had a head and most of it was now dripping down his cheeks and on to his shirt, but he smiled has if he had just accomplished an astounding feet.
There was a man sitting on the bar stool beside him who hadn't been there when he had started his most resent endeavor with the glass. Instead of being startled by this he merely launched into a one-sided discussion with his new neighbor, relieving the bartender from his listening post and allowing him to tend to other patrons.
"She didn't like it," the drunk said, beginning the conversation as if he had been talking to the stranger all night. "You'd think she would be all like, 'Oh, Victor, you won, oooh ooh.' You know how women are. But NO! She was like, 'You never notice me, and I'm leaving.' Piff, women."
"Are yo-"
"So then I was like, 'Fine! I don't need you. Go!' And that was that."
"Are y-"
"But then I was thinking that maybe I do need her, but she was already gone, and all I had was this trophy and some prize money. But it was good prize money," he raised his voice for this last comment, looking around for the bartender for confirmation, "huh?" but he couldn't find him. Victor reached for his glass, but knocked it off the bar. The crash of glass startled him a little and he tried desperately not to act like a drunk trying to act sober. His hands suddenly seemed like they were extra appendages that were only in the way. He tried to find some place to hide them but settled for simply placing them in his lap. He was now just staring at his conversation companion as if it were odd for one to not talk at all.
The stranger waited a while to see if the pause in speech was genuine, not wanting to get shut down again. "Are you Victor Porcelian?"
"Read the plaque on the tro-" he reached for the trophy, but without the bartender there to aid him, it wound up on the floor next to the glass and out of sight. Suddenly Victor's hands seemed extra again without a prop to point at. He played with them nervously in front of him while gesturing over the bar at the unseen trophy. "My name's, well, it's on, it's on the trophy."
"I understand. So your name is Victor Porcelian?"
"Yeah, like I said, it's written on the-" he pointed again, half hoping the trophy had reappeared and half hoping his new friend would just remember what it had looked like, "my name's on the trophy," he finished in a whisper, as if it was a very important secret.
"My names Ward Leonce. I'm a fighter pilot in the Republic and we are looking for new recruits."
"I can fly!" he said this as if it were the antithesis of what he had just said before. If the fact his name was on the trophy was a secret, then the fact he could fly should become the most public thing in the bar.
"You won the Ithorian Ultimate Fighter Invitational today, didn't you?" It was a stupid question, and Ward was sorry he had asked it the moment the words left his mouth.
"Yes I did. In fact I have a -" he turned and was actually surprised to see that the trophy wasn't there. "I'll get it."
Before Ward could stop him, Victor leaped from his barstool in an attempt to jump over the bar. It was quite an impressive display for one as inebriated as he was. He landed hard on his stomach, his arms flailing over the backside of the counter, and his legs nearly sticking straight up in the air.
Ward knew what was going to happen even before he heard Victor groan. It was a vicious shot to take in the gut after so much alcohol, and now that he was inverted, only bad things could happen with his stomach contents. Ward pulled him halfway back over the bar and steadied him as his body went through the retching.
Ten minutes later found Ward nearly carrying a semi conscious Victor. Victor was dragging a trophy behind him that was still a little damp, while Ward was dragging the next hope for the Imperial navy, also still a little damp. Both were out fifty credits: Victor on his bar tab and Ward from his generous tip to whoever was going to clean up the mess.
* * *
Victor woke up seven hours later, a few trillion kilometers away from his last place of consciousness. It felt like he had left some major body parts behind. "Ooohaaahh," he groaned quite pathetically.
"Good morning to you too," Ward said from the cockpit of the shuttlecraft. "You'll find a pot of stimsuline on a burner down the hall and to your right. You'll find a refresher down the same hall, but on your left. I suggest you use them both, but not in the order I mentioned them."
Twenty minutes later Victor Porcelian came into the cockpit cradling a steaming mug of stimsuline in his hands. "Where am I and who are you?"
"My name is Ward Leonce. I am a fighter pilot in the Republic. We are presently passing by the Cobern system."
"Nice waterfalls on Cobern."
"Only the best," Ward rejoined, glad he was taking the kidnapping well. If Ward guessed correctly, the fact he was a pilot in the Republic more than a little peaked Victor's interest. "We're headed to Coruscant to meet with Admiral Sanson. Well not actually to the planet, she's waiting in a ship in orbit. Again, she isn't actually there waiting for us right now, but she should be back from her military operation by the time we get there."
"We got another twelve hours, don't we?" Victor asked, taking a big sip of his morning drink.
"You know your star charts well. Actually we have another fourteen. This ship isn't as fast as it should be. The extra time should give us a good opportunity to really get to know each other. We kind of had a bad first encounter last night."
* * *
Han paused briefly, testing the limits of his captors' tempers. He leaned casually against his shovel (or what constituted as a shovel), pretending to pry a rock loose from the muddy ground. The former smuggler wiped the sweat from his forehead with shirtsleeve. He had long ago given up trying to find a clean spot on the shirt for the repeated activity and now merely used the most accessible piece of the material.
"What is it break time already," Lando said under his breath. "We just had one eight hours ago."
Han failed to chuckle at the sarcastic comment, but did catch his friend's gist and resumed his monotonous work. The two men along with several other slaves were busy digging out a huge pit under the vast expanse of Coruscant. The immense weight of the city seemed to press down on Han and Lando as if they were actually part of the support structure in the hideous underworld.
Han's shovel was a slightly concave panel off an incredibly old land speeder with a metal pole lashed crudely onto it for a handle. The contraption was severely over balanced, with the handle weighing at least three times as much as the shovel. It was an amazing feat of coordination and prowess that had allowed Han to fill the wheelbarrow next to him time and time again without repeatedly spilling the contents back on the ground during the transfer.
Finding his wheelbarrow full again, Han put down his shovel and moved to haul the dirt out of the pit. The slaves had dug a dirt ramp out of the pit, which rose right in between two of the three guard posts. Han eyed the two hunchbacked under-dwellers as he always did, looking for some way to escape their ever-present watch. One of the men Han found particularly annoying. The guard had managed to get Han's blaster after he and Lando had been captured over a week ago. The small man seemed to polish the rare weapon as a proud athlete would his first medal. The potential humor in the action of a clueless man scrubbing day and night with a filthy rag on a weapon that had lost its shine twenty years ago, never seemed to dawn on Han.
A short walk from the ramp was the pile of dirt that had been excavated thus far, and Han quickly dumped his load before returning to the pit. "Hey don't you think we've had enough for today?" Han asked the gun polisher.
The monster hardly looked up from his work, just nodded vaguely up toward the surface of the world. "Eeet eees morning. Day jooust beginning. Geeet to woork."
Han looked around at the ever-present gloom that hung in the air. There was little light at all, but the creatures down here seemed to have developed some kind of infrared vision. For Han, Lando, and the other slaves, who hadn't yet adapted to the darkness, torches were lit about the work site. Han was surprised, that with the awful odor in the air, torches could even be lit without blowing out the entire underworld.
"Six point seven two five," Lando said as Han came back next to his friend with an empty wheelbarrow.
"Sounds a bit closer," Han replied. "Don't forget to include the pit." Han sighed heavily as he once again picked up his shovel. He had witnessed the death of two slaves about six days ago who had been beaten to death for not working. Han knew the beating had nothing to do with the work of the two slaves, but had been done for other reasons. Captured slaves from the upper levels of Coruscant could only last so long in these conditions, and soon the quality of their work would not be worth the gruel they were being fed. So the slaves were killed to not only save food, but to teach any new recruits there was a severe hand of punishment at work here.
Still all Han could think about was escape. They had come down here to try and get computer records of all of the Emperor's financial holdings to secure the Republic's own assets, but now Han had convinced himself the task would be pointless. When they had left on this mission, the troubles surrounding Leia and the Republic were coming to a head, and now in over a week's time, they were sure to have been resolved or at least addressed.
"Six point seven two eight," Lando spoke up, breaking Han's train of thought.
"Eight? This pit isn't three meters deep yet."
"No, but I think I missed a really short level about two levels up. No, wait, maybe it was three levels up."
"Keep working on it, Lando."
At least Lando had been able to keep his mind busy thinking of things other than mud and sweat. He was trying to calculate down to the meter, how many kilometers down they were from the docking bay where the Lady Luck was sitting. Han shrugged his shoulders at what his friend found amusing. He guessed the former gambler's card counting ability revealed a mathematical mind behind the handsome face.
"Do you hear that?" Lando said out loud, drawing Han's attention to the volume of his friend's voice rather than to the content of his words. Han was just about to say something about the guards with the guns, when Lando spoke again. "Look."
Han raised his eyes to the guards surrounding the pit. All of them were looking around in a very worried fashion, as if expecting something to come out and bite them. Their hearing had been honed to a superior level living in this dark, silent world and they heard the commotion long before Lando had.
Now Han knew something was up, he too quieted his thoughts and listened. Off in the distance he could hear what sounded like yelling and screaming. There were faint blaster shots, several small explosions, and then a very recognizable sound.
"A lightsaber?" Han asked, wondering if Lando had heard the same thing.
"Trince?" Lando asked, confirming he had heard the sound too.
"Don't forget," Han pointed out, "these under-dwellers took Trince's lightsaber, so unless Luke or one of my kids has come down to rescue us, I think it's just the lightsaber thief trying to ward off what's ever out there."
They both fell silent and then heard another snap-hiss.
"Another lightsaber?" Lando asked, now getting confused.
"They make the lightsabers so they turn off when they're dropped," Han said. "Most likely the lightsaber wielding under-dweller tried to block laser fire, failed, and one of his buddies picked up the fallen weapon."
"If the weapons turn off when you let go," Lando started to ask, "how do they throw them?"
"Jacen told me it takes extra concentration to keep the weapon active while you throw it."
The fighting was very close now and Han, who had been around a lot more lightsaber fights than Lando, recognized the distinct sound of redirected fire. "It does sound like a Jedi out there," Han said, "though I can hardly believe it if it's Trince. He looked dead for sure, when we left him."
"Besides," Lando added, "where would he have been for the past week?"
The sounds of fighting (and dying) were very close now, and the chamber the slaves were in began to light up with the lightsaber and blaster show going on a few meters away. Suddenly a figure wielding a lightsaber jumped into the pit and began swinging wildly at the slaves.
Lando and Han couldn't make out who it was in the darkness as the lightsaber's sudden brightness had blinded them. Whoever it was was making mincemeat of anything in his path. He was effectively throwing blaster fire back at the guards firing down on him while chopping up the scrambling slaves all around him.
Han and Lando both began screaming at once, trying to get the animated Jedi's attention. The dark figure weaving the deadly blade slowed briefly as he approached Han and Lando. In the glow of the blade, Han's eyes could make out the face of the death machine. "Trince?"
The voice seemed to strike a cord in the desperate young man, and he looked at both Lando and Han as if trying to recall the names of classmates at a ten-year reunion. "Han Solo," he began slowly, "Lando Calarissian."
"Yeah, buddy," Han said, seeing the strain and fear in the eyes of his friend. "Calm down. There all dead."
Trince was panting heavily. It wasn't the breathing of a man out of breath, Han thought, but more like a man who is exhilarated or at the peak of ecstasy. Trince looked around. Everything was still and quiet. There was nothing left of the enemy, only three men in the bottom of the pit.
"What were you doing?" Lando yelled. "You just killed innocent pe-" but Han put his hand on Lando's shoulder, stopping the comment. Han could see there was something terribly wrong with the young Jedi.
Trince turned violently toward Lando, and for a moment, Han thought he would strike down the gambler. Instead he spoke. "We need to go. There will be reinforcements." With a wave of his hand, two blasters from fallen guards came flying towards them. Han caught his own blaster, while Lando caught some other relic the slavers had captured.
Han and Lando ran for the ramp leading out of the pit, while Trince simply leaped out of the two-meter deep hole. They ran quickly out of the compound and made their way to the nearest path up. Several other under-dwellers showed their faces, but Trince cut down anyone that tried to stand in their path.
The trip was fast and furious, both Han and Lando were already exhausted for the work they had been doing in the pit, but neither dared complain as Trince didn't seem in the mood to debate the situation.
The trio found they had moved into the more heavily populated levels much faster than they would have thought possible. There were vagrants and homeless that scattered as Trince waived his lightsaber at them. Han wasn't so sure about their friend's temperament now. He was a little worried that if any honest citizen would approach them, asking them to donate to the needy or something, Trince strike them down without thought. It was this concern that finally forced Han to request a break.
The three escapees were still a ways from the surface, but they were further from the bottom, and once they stopped, neither Han nor Lando could get going again without a long rest. Trince said he'd watch out for them while they slept. As Han drifted quickly asleep, he saw the Jedi standing over them as they slept in a deserted building. The old smuggler had terrible dreams about what the man must have gone through.
* * *
Mara brought down her ship in a small clearing with a permacrete landing pad. There were no Jedi to aid her flight down and was surprised when there was only Threepio there to great her. "Good morning, Mistress Mara," the droid said in his never tiring voice. "I don't believe I am aquatinted with your companion."
Before Ra'tok could introduce himself, Mara spoke up. "Where's Leia or the students?"
"I believe Mistress Leia is in one of the newly built dormitories. She has not left her room since she arrived here six days ago. I do not understand the ways of the Force, but her grief is related to it in some way. Masters Streen and Tionne have not been able to help her. From their conversations I gather it has something to do with Master Jacen. I believe they think he has died."
Mara was shocked. She had liked the twins. They had the same spunk that had characterized Han's career. She had felt certain they were exactly what the Galaxy needed to balance out Luke's dry, serious persona. If Jacen had died, it would be a crushing blow to their side. Attempts had been made on the twins' lives repeatedly over their lives. If Snotzenexer, if he was responsible, had finally been able to get through to one of them, they were in more trouble than they realized.
Mara led Ra'tok toward the newer buildings, noticing Leia's mood must be affecting more than just herself. The remaining students (and it seemed there were very few) were busy rebuilding what Snotzenexer had torn down, but they were doing so without much enthusiasm, as if it were simply a pointless cause.
Mara thought about it during the short walk and could sympathize with them. The universe seemed to be rejecting them. Luke had been exiled, and no one had spoken on his behalf. Jacen might be dead, and he had been the star pupil to emerge from the Academy. Now they were constructing their buildings without any help from the outside. The same outside they were supposed to protect and the same outside that was apparently rejecting them. On top of that, Mara had only been here for a couple minutes and already she could feel Leia's depression through the Force.
The new buildings were equipped with turbolifts, and Mara needed no direction from Threepio, being able to feel Leia's presence quite well. Mara did allow the protocol droid the dignity of leading the procession down the hall to her room, keeping Ra'tok in tow. The door opened and the action inside exploded. Before Threepio even had a chance to speak, much less introduce anyone, Chewbacca sprung at the open door.
Mara figured the Wookiee's temperament would be a little stressed because of Leia's condition and his inability to do anything about it, but she hadn't figured it would cause him to attack anyone who visited unexpectedly. Mara managed to duck inside the room as Chewie flew past her into the hallway. It was then that she remembered Ra'tok.
Mara quickly ran back to the doorway and saw the two aliens facing off in the hallway. She shouted both their names, but they ignored her. She wondered if she had just brought together two mortal enemies. Ra'tok had told Mara of himself, and from what she could gleam from her ship's computer, the Defel were as much legend as anything. That they and Wookiees, a very well known race, could be enemies seemed highly unlikely.
The two of them charged each other, and Mara was left guessing who would come out on top. Chewie was by far the stronger of the two, but Ra'tok had a definite speed advantage and had claws that could do much more damage than the Wookiee was capable of. They locked arms, Chewie almost a half meter taller than his opponent. The awkward embrace lasted for a scary couple of moments before both fighters took a sudden pause. Mara thought it looked like they smelled each other, and then they were suddenly hugging each other.
Mara threw her hands up in the air in confusion. She thought she heard Ra'tok talking in Wookiee, but with as much noise as the two of them were making, Mara could hardly tell. "A simple misunderstanding," Ra'tok said, turning briefly to look at Mara.
It was obvious to Mara the two copilots were becoming fast friends and were no longer going to kill each other. She instead turned her attention back to the room where Leia, despite the activity from Chewie, hadn't moved from her chair. She was looking up at Mara, not so self involved with her misery to disregard the obvious visitor, but Mara could see she wanted nothing else but to simply curl up in a hole and shut the whole world out.
Leia had a blanket over her shoulders, warding off what cold on the hot jungle moon, Mara did not know. In her lap was what she had been doing right before Mara had entered. It appeared to be some kind hat or stocking that Leia was knitting. Mara tried not to let her disgust at the choice of activity show. It was most likely a baby body stocking, used to keep infants warm. It was the type of activity that an expectant mother or a helpful grandmother would take upon themselves.
"It's a body stocking," Leia said to Mara. Not a "hello," or a "how are you doing," but a mundane statement of the totally obvious.
"It's nice," Mara lied boldly. There were so many missed stitches and doubled threads that Mara doubted it would be completed, much less actually support a baby.
"I never got to make one for the twins," Leia said, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "I was just so busy, you see, with the Empire and such. Now-" she broke off and Mara walked over to her. Leia lifted a hand up, staring down at her lap. She sniffed everything up into her head, "I'm okay, I'll be all right."
"No, Leia, you're not okay," Mara said it blatantly, not lying anymore. "It is okay to grieve, but you still need to live your life. You can't let his death kill you too."
"But what do I have to live for now!" the calm act had been thrown aside. "I have nothing! No children! No husband! No brother! No parents! Not even a planet! It's all been taken away from me."
"You have to keep going," Mara said, pulling up a chair so she sat facing Leia a meter away. "It's been tough before, but you made it through. Everything isn't gone, it's just lost and we need to find it back."
"That's easy for you to say!" Leia spat back. "What have you lost? You've never gotten yourself close to anything. You're too scared to get hurt, what can you possibly know about what I'm going through!"
Mara knew it wasn't Leia talking, but all her penned up rage. Mara couldn't let herself get mad or defensive. She needed to keep herself calm, sending as much soothing feelings through the Force as she could. "Leia." Mara reached over and lifted her pouting head from her chest. "Look at me Leia. This isn't about me. It's about you. You need to keep going. It has to be tough, and you're right, I don't know what you're going through, but that doesn't mean I can't help if you let me. You have to let me."
"But," Leia choked, sliding out of her chair so she was on her knees, "if Luke couldn't . . . how can I?"
Her body was now rocking with sobs, the strong woman that used to be here reduced to a shivering, old woman. Mara slid off her chair as well, coming right up against the former president of the Republic. "Leia," she said, forcing the older looking woman to look her in the face again, "I loved him too." What that meant to either Leia or Mara mattered little, only that it was true.
"Of course you did," Leia sobbed, collapsing against Mara, the two embracing. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry about everything."
"No," Mara corrected, her hands massaging the tension out of Leia's shoulders, "you have nothing to be sorry about. You have lost a lot and aren't thinking straight. We'll get through this together."
They stayed there on the floor for at least fifteen more minutes, Mara simply supporting her friend while Leia let out all of her penned up anguish. Mara finally got up when Leia stopped her sobbing. "You need to find strength, Leia," Mara said smoothly. "I think I know how we can get your brother back, but it won't be easy, and I'm going to need your help. If we give up now then Snotzenexer wins, and we can't have that happen, right?"
Leia nodded mutely and got up with Mara. "I'll try. What do you need me to do?"
"First I need you to become stable. I know it must sound awful, but you have to put Jacen behind you. You need to let the past be the past. Learn from it but don't dwell on it." It looked like Leia might begin to cry again, but she didn't. "Once you are strong enough, I want you to try and contact Luke. I've tried, but I don't have near the same connection that you have.
"I want you to spend sometime with Streen," Mara continued. "I heard he tried to help you before, but I have a feeling he was the only one trying." Leia nodded, knowing what Mara was talking about. "He'll be able to strengthen you emotionally and physically. Meanwhile, I need to get in touch with Anakin. Do you know where he is?"
Leia nodded. "He's with Wedge in the Denorid system."
Mara rolled her eyes. There was an entirely different mess that needed to be sorted out. But not by me, Mara thought. Snotzenexer can handle that one, and he'll probably do a very decent job. "Do you know how I can get in contact with him?"
"Streen would know. You can use the com room in the adjacent building."
* * *
Mara was seated in front of the main Academy computer. She had just gotten in contact with the Republic fleet in the Denorid system and had left a message for Anakin to call her at his earliest convenience. Now she was busy looking through the archives of the Academy, becoming more impressed by the second. She knew Tionne had little Force skill but enjoyed researching the Jedi lore. What Mara didn't know was along with the lore came a good bit of galactic history. In order to make any sense out of the assorted bits involving Jedi Tionne had been forced to download a lot of material from the Coruscant library. Tionne had done an incredible job of organizing the information, making this the best place Mara knew of to get historical information.
There were plenty of questions Mara had, and she found most of the answers were right in front of her. Ra'tok had told her his race inhabited an enshrouded, primitive world. The coverage brought in little light, causing the rest of the universe to ignore it. It was also very hard to locate due to the fact the nebula covered over nine tenths of the system. A dark home-world planet would definitely explain Ra'tok's abhorrence of bright light and his ability to see exceptionally well. None of this, though, explained Chewie's reaction to him.
The computer archive had quite a bit to say about Defels. Since the beginning of recorded history, the Defels and Togorians had been mortal enemies. The computer described Togorians as Feline creatures who were vicious warriors, reaching heights of up to three meters. Ra'tok was only as tall as Mara, almost half as tall as a Togorian. Mara had no idea how tall the average Defel was and living on a dark world probably didn't encourage growth, but the average height difference between the races was probably close to a meter.
Along with being an incredibly strong race, the Togorians were also noted as being one of the most honorable sentients in the galaxy. When a Togorian gave you his word, it was good till the end of time. Those companies or governments that were clever enough to entrap a Togorian in his word used them as bodyguards. Once one of them promised to protect something or someone, they did so no matter how corrupt the corporation. There were a few instances when the government or business lied, cheated, or killed to earn the services of the Togorian, but if the Togorian found out, then his contract would be null and void.
The Defel were described as a violent race who, in the early parts of history explored the galaxy, stealing technology and becoming very strong. As soon as they met the Togorians, a war erupted between the two races that lasted a hundred years. "Fighting like cats and dogs," Mara said under her breath. This had happened over five hundred years ago. The Defel had used stealth and trickery while the Togorians used straight up size and strength.
There was one bit of the history that had a footnote by it claiming it to be only rumor. It said that during the war some of the Defel began to respect the Togorian's honor code and wanted to end the fighting. This was only a small portion of the population. There was a brief civil war that easily put down the dissenters. Officially, there were no reported survivors on the rebels' side, but unofficially the few survivors were sent to an unexplored, primitive world to be dealt with after the war with the Togorians.
The war ended with the Togorians eventually annihilating the Defel. The few surviving Defel went in to hiding, using their low level of visibility to their advantage. The record said most of the remaining Defel found jobs as bodyguards or assassins for powerful crime lords and financial tycoons. There was a brief mention that the Togorians went looking for the world where the few surviving rebels were sent. There was no record of whether they were ever found.
Nothing else major happened to the Togorians until about thirty years ago. The records said that in the fight against the Empire the Togorians were one of the races that fought their own war. The next line surprised Mara a bit. It said the Togorians fought along side the Wookiees. The Wookiees' fight against the Empire was well known, since they were often taken as slaves, but the Togorians had no ties either way. The history explained that a Wookiee visited Togoria, and a strong friendship between the two honorable races began.
There was another footnote here that looked to have been added by someone here at the Academy. Mara called up the footnote and was shocked at what she saw. The footnote was written by Luke and explained how Han had befriended a Togorian couple when he rescued them from a slave world. He then visited the Togorian world later with Chewie.
Mara sat back from the computer screen. Han Solo, she thought. He had brought two races together all by himself. Both of the races had a terrible lot in common, from the way they lived their lives down to the make up of their home worlds. The history didn't say much else, but Mara could extrapolate what she needed to know from what she had read.
Ra'tok was a descendent of the exiled rebels. They had decided to throw away their race's tendency for hatred, and instead mimicked the Togorian's honor code. The Togorians also probably located the shrouded planet, and made peace with the remaining Defel. Chewie had recognized Ra'tok as a Defel immediately, and knew the Defel as mortal enemies of the Togorians. Apparently the three races must have a way to identify themselves through their sense of smell, and Chewie was able to identify Ra'tok as a friend.
Mara got up from her chair, satisfied with what she had discovered. Anakin would call back when he was able, but in the meantime, she had work to do on her ship.
Interlude I
And then there was darkness.
Or was it always darkness? But if there is an "always" then when was the beginning and was it dark? Or will there be a "soon" or a "just happened" and will they too be dark? If it was just dark then what was it before? What is darkness? Is it not merely the absence of light? If it is not really dark then should it not be . . .
And then there was no light.
But if darkness is an absence, then how can it have a presence? How can it "be" at all? Maybe darkness doesn't exist. Maybe light always "is." If so, then what is "now?" Now there is no light. Now it is darkness. Maybe there is light but no one to see it. If there is no one then who am I?
Then there was I.
Am I a thing? Or am I a presence, like the darkness? Or is the absence of light a presence? Is there anything other than I? If I am the only presence, then light could not exist for it would be a presence. If there were two presences then I would not be alone. But am I a presence or is the absence of light always present to deny anything else existence? What is the meaning of "anything else?" Are there other presences besides what is? What is? Am I? Or is darkness? To merely ask the question implies that I am. That means that darkness is not. Or can we both exist? If there are two might there also be more?
Then there was more.
If more would exist would they be like me? Or would they be like the darkness? If the presence of darkness is merely the realization of an absence, then would other presences be realizations of their absences? If there is an absence, then it represents a forgotten presence. What is it to forget? To forget implies that one would remember. To remember implies the past. What was before? If it is dark now, was it always dark? In order for light to be absent, it had to be at one time present. Or does it? Is it enough to merely think of light once existing? Where would that thought come from but from a memory? If I remember light, then it must have existed and me with it. If more exist in absence then I would remember them. If they exist in presence, I would then have to first know them before they existed to me.
Then there were memories.
If anything that will exist has to come from me, can I then control what exists? Is the darkness here only because I can't remember what light was? Would more be here if I could remember them? Am I alone only because I am without thought? If I knew what I had forgotten, I would not have forgotten it and therefore would not be surrounded by absences. What does it mean to be surrounded? If I am surrounded by absences, there must be a space in which I am surrounded. If there is a space, I would be together with that space. Can a space hold nothing? Can a space exist if there is only absences in it? I would not be surrounded by absences if there was no space in which to surround me. Therefore there must not only be absences with me, but presences.
Then there was cognition.
If there are more with me in this space, then I must remember them, or else they would be absences. I must therefore remember, but can not access those memories. I am not alone. I exist in the absence of light because I do not remember what was before. I also exist in the absence of more because of the lack of their memory. They do exist, or I would not exist in a space. If there was no space, I could not exist. Since I have thought, I must exist. Since I must exist, there must be space.
And then there was space.
Since there is a space, I must also have memory of those things around me. Darkness is what I see - no, correction - what I do not see. To see is to take in light. There is no light for I do not see. What is the difference between seeing and thinking? Or smelling? Or hearing? Or feeling? Or tasting? Or knowing? If I can understand darkness, then to realize the opposite would be to know light. If I know light, then I have remembered it.
And then there was light.
If light exists in my memory and I have access to it, I can see. To see involves reflection. Off what does the light reflect? This is the more - the others. To see them would be to remember them. Or would to remember them be to see them? Light and darkness are opposites. One or the other must exist. Are the others like that? Are they absolute? Am I absolute? If I think and know, then I must exist. But if light does not exist, then darkness exists. Can I be defined by an opposite? If I do not exist then I am not. Am I then dead? In order to be dead, one must first be alive.
Then there was life.
I must be alive. If I am alive then I exist. If I were dead, I would have once been alive. Does the absence of life imply the absence of existence? Is light alive? It exists, but it has no life. To remove its existence would not be to kill it. I was in darkness, but now I am not. Once something is dead, it does not come back. What is dead still exists. My mere existence does not imply that I am alive or dead. But if I am dead, how do I think? If I am alive, where are the others. I am confused.
Then there was inspiration.
Could I exist apart from life and death? Is there something other than light or darkness? No. There must be only two to determine one from the other. Then what is color? Color is the absence of part of the light. With color both light and dark exist. Can this be with me? Can I be dead but alive. I see what I think. Could this mean that I don't see at all but only think and imply sight from what I know? I can not feel. I can not taste. I can not hear. I can not smell. I don't think I can see. If I can see, off what is the light reflecting? Since I do not know, I can not see, and the two are not independent. I can not see. These things must be dead for they exist only in their absence. But I think and I know. These things are alive.
Then there were names.
If others exist with me in this space, are they like me? Are some of them dead? Are some of them alive? Are some of them dead and alive? I must know them to see them. I must remember them to know them. There is light and darkness. These are labels to represent a reality. If the others exist, they are a reality. They must have labels. They must have names. If I was with them before, then I once knew these names. How can I remember them if they are not absolute? The darkness made itself known to me. From it I extrapolated light. I knew the name of the darkness because it needed a label for thoughts to be made about it. In order to know a name, there needs to be a thought of the reality it represents.
Then the floodgates opened.
Jaina, Anakin, Leia, Han, Luke, Mara, Wedge, Lando. These others exist. Do they exist with me? If to know them is to see them, and I now know them, why don't I see them? They must only exist in their absence. It is the same way with my sight and other senses. The others once existed but no longer do. Or do they still exist, but my ability to see them does not. Since I know that I don't see, and that these others exist, then they must exist where my senses once did. They must be alive. I must be dead.
They opened a little wider.
If to know is not to see, then how can I see what is with me in this space? It is not enough to know of something's existence. You must also know it is present with you. Do I know of other presences with me? Do I know others who have died? Ben, Yoda, Anakin. These others have died. If I am dead, then they are with me. If I know them then I can see them.
And he did.
Chapter 6
"Eran"Eranadis Palpatine looked forlornly at his chrono and then at Jaina Solo. They had now progressed into their two hundredth hour together and Jaina had still not spoken to him. He didn't feel too left out, though, because she hadn't said anything to anyone. There were several other things she hadn't done during those two hundred hours. Jaina was still in a total state of shock from witnessing her brother's death by his own lightsaber in the hands of none other than Eran. She hadn't moved, blinked, eaten, slept, or done any of the other normal conscious activity. As far as Eran could tell, she wasn't breathing and her heart wasn't beating. The only reason he hadn't buried her yet was that her body was still warm. Besides that he could some how sense life in her.
Despite his last name, Eranadis Palpatine had no Force skill that he was aware of. He could not deny his ability to put his mind and body at perfect peace right before combat, nor could he ignore his ability to perform extreme feats of strength or incredible moments of dexterity. He knew he had a close connection with the Force, but he could not manipulate it nor control it. He had spent hours trying to flip off his bedroom lights without getting out of bed, but the switch didn't so much as quiver. Even without Force strength or knowledge, he knew how Jaina was still alive. She was in a Force hibernation, one that she had not put herself in and therefore not one she could take herself out of.
Jaina's body had been stiff and unbending even under Eran's advanced strength. She had been frozen in her pose of realization when she understood her brother had died. She had been on her knees, her body in the shape of the number "2" with her hands over her open mouth and her eyes wide open.
This pose had made it very difficult for Eran to bring her back to Mos Eisley on his stolen swoop. He got quite a few odd looks as he carried her in to a rented hotel room, everyone swearing she was some type of mannequin or malfunctioning droid.
After a day of letting Jaina remain in that pose, Eran realized she wasn't coming out of this trance any time soon, and he went to a med shop to get some muscle relaxants. They worked, barely. As soon as Eran had wrestled her into a comfortable looking position, the relaxants wore off and she went stiff again.
Eran had enough money from the sale of the furniture he had delivered to the palace on Coruscant, so he had paid the hotel manager for a week. That week was now over and Eran still had no idea how he was going to get off the planet. He had enough money for a hotel, but not enough to buy a ship, or to repair his. Jacen and Jaina had disabled it after he had landed, and he didn't know where their ship was or he'd have left by now.
He thought about stealing a ship but that required a fast get away. Transporting a stiff Jaina was nothing if not slow. He didn't want to risk carrying her in a shoot out, with her not being able to defend herself.
Eran had talked to a few gamblers and shopkeepers about air traffic records to see if he could get a record of where the twin's ship had landed. All of them said the same thing, "Talk to Korpin Feeler."
Ever since Jaina's uncle had rid this barren planet of the Huts' influence, there had been a power struggle for control, and Korpin Feeler had won. Eran hadn't bothered going to look for him, but he knew his type and had gotten a good description of him from some of the people he had spoken to. He was big. There were rumors about what race he was, but only rumors and no real answer. He looked human at first, but then you got a good look at his double row of teeth when he spoke. Then when he hit you (he invariably hit everyone) you saw muscles on his huge shoulders that didn't look familiar on any human. As you looked in the mirror later and saw the huge red mark on your face from his fist, you would see five knuckle marks. Five fingers and one thumb was also not normal for a human hand.
Besides his unknown race, Korpin Feeler was just plain big. He was over two meters tall and half that wide. He had fought his way to the top and now that he had gotten there, he had let his physique go to waste - or perhaps saying it went to waist would be more appropriate. He enjoyed his food so much the current joke was that the Hutts were back in power. Of course no one said this to his face if they wanted to keep theirs.
Eran sighed as he thought he would have to go see the crime lord after all. He had tried other ways to find the ship. He had visited all the hangars and asked about long time visitors. He was shown plenty of ships, but having never seen the twin's ship before, he couldn't know which one it was. Some of the ships were just downright pieces of junk. One ship looked like it was constructed by simply gluing pieces of broken down fighters together. Eran doubted the ship would survive one minute in space, much less lift off.
Eran looked at Jaina on last time, feeling confident now that she wouldn't wake up while he was gone. He had started wearing both of Jacen's lightsabers whereever he went. He hid them under a loose fitting dust jacket, a common article of clothing during the windy season. Eran hadn't had the opportunity to use the weapons yet, but if there was going to be an opportunity, it would come during his meeting with Korpin Feeler. Eran had trained with almost every weapon imaginable and two short swords had been one of his more prolific talents, enabling his excellent dexterity to shine through. After fiddling with the two weapons he saw they had two settings, one for a meter long blade, and a shorter setting at two-thirds of a meter. This shorter setting was ideal when using both weapons. The former government agent also wore a snugly slung blaster.
Eran stepped out into the burning afternoon suns, squinting as he always did. He made his way to a recently acquired landspeeder which he bought/stole from an old shopkeeper. Eran had been told Korpin Feeler's headquarters were at the opposite edge of Mos Eisley and would be very easy to find because "it will be the place where no one else is going," someone had told him.
There was a very large complex on the edge of the town, and from the security (or in Eran's trained eye, the lack thereof) Eran could tell he had found his destination. There was a crude wall almost three meters high with what looked like, in the blowing sand, a shock-shield surrounding the top another meter high. The wall encompassed the building complex and a couple extra hundred square meters of grass. It wasn't the lush green grass you might find surrounding any important building on a normal planet. Instead it was harsh brown grass filled with thorny weeds, but on this dessert planet it almost looked nice.
The building complex itself was composed of five huge cylinders of varying heights and made from the same gray-brown stone block that had been used for every other building on this planet. There were a few windows high up in the complex and only one main door that Eran could see.
The gate into the compound was open and unguarded. Eran could see two turret turbo lasers mounted on the top of either pedestal flanking the entrance. There was a crude sign scribbled in several languages that said, "Don't walk on the grass." Eran could imagine Korpin's glee every time someone stepped on the weed infested lawn and he got to watch them incinerated. Turbo lasers for a security system against sentients were really overkill.
At the entrance to the complex stood a security droid. The joints on the droid were so filled with dust Eran would be surprised if the thing could still walk. In spite of the droid's condition, the blaster riffle built into its left arm looked clean enough.
"State your name and business," it said flatly.
"Eranadis Palandon. I'm here to see Korpin Feeler."
"Do you have a scheduled meeting?"
Eran knew you didn't need an appointment to see a man as infrequently visited as this crime lord, but he decided to play along. "Yes."
The security droid also knew there were no appointments and was only programmed to say this so he could turn people away. "Korpin is busy and you can not see him now."
"Should I reschedule with his secretary?"
Like all security droids who got confused it decided to resort to violence. It raised its weapon arm. "You have five seconds to remove yourself from this area. You are trespassing."
Eran heard the awful grinding noise as the droid bent its elbow and saw bits of rust fall from the joint like ground pepper. The move Eran made was so fast that even if the droid had been expecting it, he could not have stopped it. Eran grabbed the barrel of the blaster riffle with his left hand, brought his right knee up underneath the appendage, and brought his right hand down in a vicious chop on the delicate joint. The limb snapped off at the elbow like a rotted tree limb.
"Correction," Eran said to the droid, "you have five seconds to open this door before I break off your other arm and beat you senseless with it."
Security droids don't have great logic circuits, but it could tell that it was beat here. "Yes sir." The droid opened the door with its still operational arm. The huge blast door opened with a rusty and gritty groan. Eran peered in briefly before entering, fearing a retaliation for what he had done to the droid. Eran wasn't blasted from within the dark interior of the building, so he assumed it was at least momentarily safe. "Have a nice day, sir."
Eran laughed silently to himself as he passed the oblivious droid into the building. The door slid closed slowly behind him and Eran let his eyes adjust to the drastic change in lighting before continuing. Two men walked up to him quickly. Both had very pale skin for this sunny of a planet, and Eran realized that Korpin must not let them out much. Though both of them had a blaster trained on him Eran could sense quite a bit of nervous apprehension in their stances. Apparently there were cameras that had shown the inner guards what Eran had done to the droid.
"What are you here for?" one of them asked, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice.
"Hey fellas, put your guns away. I just want to talk with your boss, that's all."
"What if we say he's busy?" the other one tried.
Eran shrugged. "I probably wouldn't believe you and would be forced to hurt you to get past."
This bold statement seemed to put them ill at ease. They both held their blasters a little tighter, leveling the sights on Eran's chest. Eran's casual acceptance of their positions made them wonder if they should just blast him right there. "Give us your weapons and we will see if the Honorable Feeler is available."
Eran first handed them the arm he had ripped off the droid. The guard on the right took it awkwardly. Eran then unholstered his blaster and handed that over. Before they could attempt a search, he bent over and took a vibroblade out of an ankle sheath. As he handed the knife to one of the guards, blade leading, he spoke, "These are all my weapons, understand?"
As the guard reached to take hold of the blade gingerly, Eran's finger was poised over the actuator that would make the blade vibrate a few hundred times a second, slicing off any, if not all, of the guards fingers that got to close. The guard finally pinched the weapon with two fingers in the center of the ten-centimeter blade.
Neither of the guards wanted to search the dangerous looking man who had so willingly given them a weapon that they probably wouldn't have found even if they had done a search. The two guards holstered their weapons and led Eran down the hallway. There were several doors on either side of the main hall that probably led into the inner bowels of the under-chambers. Or maybe they were simple quarters, either way, Eran knew he didn't want to have to take a tour of this ill-kept complex.
The audience chamber was at the end of the hall and Eran could hear loud snapping sounds coming from the well-lit room. Shouts of "Don't ever refuse me again" and "Play that again and do it right" floated down the hall in between the snapping noises that Eran wanted to believe were being made by a whip.
Everything became clear when the trio rounded the last bend and Eran could see into the chamber. There was a small band playing some dance music while a scantily clad woman (Eran had to look twice to make sure that she was indeed clothed) danced before a mountain of a . . .thing. Eran realized that the warning's he had received about the size of this crime lord hadn't done him justice. He did look like a small Hut, a huge blob sitting in a chair that Eran thought he wouldn't be able to rise from in anything less than a full minute.
A second look at the man as Eran was brought closer, showed him otherwise. There were huge muscles underneath the rolls of fat. So many, in fact, that Eran did not look forward to fighting this man, a task he had convinced himself would be necessary to get him access to the flight records he needed.
"Hey boy," the huge man's tongue snapped as one with his whip. The whip found a young boy who had been sitting near by, tracing a thin line of blood on his arm. The line, Eran could see, was one of many that laid on the lad's arm. "Boy, fetch our visitor some alcohol and be quick about it, else my whip will find your hide in a spot it will hurt much worse."
Eran changed his mind. He was now looking forward to pummeling this man very much. "Really, I'm fine," Eran replied, now standing in front of the seated monstrosity. Regardless of what Eran said, the boy scampered off, more than likely simply to get outside of the whip's range. The two guards stood on either side of Eran, about two meters distant from the dangerous youth, giving him space to talk with their boss.
"Perhaps you would like something to eat?" the gross man picked at a bowl next to him. He pulled up a handful of what looked like seaweed. Eran swore he could see something writhing inside the mass, but didn't stare too long at the tangle as it found itself into Korpin's huge mouth.
"No thank-you, Honorable Feeler, I am simply here on a quest for information."
"Information, aye? A man like you should know that is the most expensive kind of trade. What kind of information?"
Eran saw what was going to happen only a split second before it did. The dancing girl had taken a seat on her designated cushion after her routine, and now that her boss was distracted, she thought she might be able to slink away and get out of range of the whip. Such was not the case. Korpin's meaty, whip-bearing arm flashed like the wind, but Eran's left arm flashed like lightning. The whip stretched out its hungry tongue toward the tantalizing flesh, but Eran grabbed the middle of the whip before it had a chance to snap back. Eran wrenched it out of the huge man's hand and let his grip slide down to the handle.
Korpin's two guards were faster than Eran had expected, but not half as fast as Eran. Both guards drew their weapons, and Eran reached into the left side of his jacket, drawing one of Jacen's lightsabers with his right hand. Both blasters came level at Eran, but a whip stole one of the weapons from the man's grasp, while a lightsaber destroyed the other. Eran deactivated and stowed the lightsaber quick enough to catch the whipped weapon in his right hand, which he then holstered. The whip he simply tossed over his shoulder.
Like he had never moved, Eran stood as calmly as he had three short seconds ago before the action had started. "Nothing really important," Eran replied to Korpin's nearly forgotten question, "just some flight logs."
Korpin wasn't exactly sure what to think, much less do about what he had just seen. Eran had just challenged his authority over his woman, and had made fools out of his guards. At the same time, he had not made a direct move against Korpin. Eran could very easily have shot the large man at point blank range but had not. Korpin enjoyed a good show, but also realized that he would not be able to lean on this visitor without serious repercussions. And of course Korpin intended to lean heavily on him. The large man swindled everyone that managed to walk into his private chamber and swindled them badly.
Then there was also the lightsaber the man had used. At least that was what Korpin had thought the brief flash of blue had been. If that was the case, then on top of everything else he had done, he was a Jedi. Even with all this knowledge, Korpin was not scared, only curious of what he should do.
"What type of flight logs?" Korpin asked, deciding to see how this curious fellow wanted to play the game.
"I wish to locate a ship that docked in Mos Eisley about a week ago. The ship belonged to a friend of mine. He passed on and I don't want to leave it here for the Jawas to have. He neglected to tell me what it looked like or where he had parked it."
Korpin thought for a while. The game was over now. Korpin thought the man would lie as to what he really wanted, but the small lie detector mounted in the crime lord's chair told him that everything this man had just said was true. "Why don't you return my whip and I'll think about it."
Eran knew the big man was about to try something as a result of that odd request. Without turning his back, bending over, or letting his eyes leave the seated monster, Eran took a step back, slipped his foot under the middle of the whip and flipped the dreadful weapon into his hand.
Korpin noticed that Eran had looped the end of the whip around his right hand as he handed the handle back. If this little pipsqueak wanted to play a game of tug of war, he'd comply. As soon as Korpin had the handle of the whip in his hand, he yanked viciously and Eran flew off his feet and up toward the elevated the man.
The two opponents bellied up to each other with Korpin grabbing a loose flap of Eran's coat in one of his meaty hands. The man stood from his chair in one sixtieth of the minute Eran had predicted for the task. He now held his smaller opponent high in the air, Eran's feet dangling at least thirty centimeters above the floor. "Let me tell you something, Jedi. I control this building, city, and planet. And until I tell you otherwise, you will do exactly what I tell you. I say 'jump,' you say 'how high?' I say 'fart,' you say 'how loud?' Do you understand?"
Eran had to figure out which way to play this. He could assume he would be able to beat this man no matter the circumstances, or he could play frightened for a while until a better time presented itself. He decided with the earlier. "I have this stomach problem, though, that doesn't always allow me to pass gas on demand."
Korpin couldn't believe what he was hearing from this little runt. Here he held the man's life in his hands, literally, and he still mouthed off. His guards had attained weapons from somewhere and were standing right behind Eran with blasters drawn. Eran could also sense the guards standing there. He swung his legs forward, straddling the wide man and then swung them back hard. Both his heels found the faces of the guards, sending them sprawling.
Eran reached into the small of his back and pulled out another sheathed vibroblade. Korpin heard the whir of the weapon and threw Eran before he could bring the knife to bare. Eran was supposed to hit the ground hard, but instead rolled gracefully to his feet.
Korpin pulled a blaster rifle from a holster on the side of his chair, the large weapon looking like a pistol in the behemoth's hand. He fired at Eran's last known position, but the elusive man was already on the move. Eran brought both lightsabers out and ignited them. Korpin fired twice more, and again scorched the spot on the ground where Eran had until recently been.
"I thought you Jedi could block laser fire," Korpin said calmly as he missed twice more.
"We only worry about the shots that come close to hitting us," Eran said, trying to keep the strain out of his voice. He only wished he could block laser fire.
Korpin decided to forget about the blaster rifle. He might be able to hit Eran eventually, he thought, but that was a very impersonal way to kill a man. He wanted to rip Eran apart with his bare hands.
Eran wasn't that picky and briefly deactivated one of his weapons to draw the blaster he had stolen. He made sure the setting was on max power and fired. The bolt hit the big man in the chest, but he didn't even stagger. Eran fired three more times, with no better result. Finally Eran simply tossed the useless weapon aside and prepared himself for a fight.
The band, the dancer, and any other conscious being had cleared out of the room by now, and Korpin dreaded having to round them all up again after he finished with this puny annoyance. This made him twice as angry as before. He managed to pick up a huge oak table in passing and hurl it at his nemesis. Eran thought briefly about slicing the huge piece of furniture in half, but had no real assurance that neither piece would still hit him. He dove out of the way as the table destroyed a small drink bar behind him.
Eran watched from a distance as Korpin walked slowly over to one of the walls in the chamber. There hung an enormous sword. It was over a meter long and must have weighed over ten kilograms. "You know what this is, Jedi? It's a Mandalorian vibrosword. These were designed for killing pests like you."
Mandalorian, Eran thought regretfully, that is why the blaster didn't work on him. He's wearing armor under his clothes.
Korpin didn't give him too much time to think about it, leaping quickly across the room despite his size and coming down with a vicious strike from on high. Eran didn't even want to contemplate blocking the attack and rolled under it and to the side. Eran came up with both blades poised to block and managed to absorb a backhanded swiped. The smaller fighter rolled with the strike and swung at the monster's exposed legs. Both blades found their target, cut through the thin fabric of Korpin's pants, and sparked off the armor underneath.
Eran quickly sprang from his crouched position and saw out of the corner of his eye the chair he had been squatting next to exploded in a plume of splinters. Eran became erect and walked quickly toward his opponent, not allowing him another charge. The much shorter fighter began swinging wildly, yet in rhythm, at the much larger fighter. Both Eran and Korpin knew that while Mandalorian armor was impervious to lightsabers and blaster fire, it couldn't take indefinite punishment and wasn't seamless. Korpin was still vulnerable at his knees, elbows, shoulders, and waist to say nothing about his exposed hands and face.
Korpin batted aside the dangerous strikes, letting the less meaningful ones reflect off his armor. The crime lord quickly saw that this fighter, Jedi or not, knew his way around a pair of lightsabers and was far more nimble than he. There was no way he would be able to block all the strokes Eran laid on him and still put up any meaningful offense.
After a perfectly executed feint, that sent Korpin off balance, Eran sliced smoothly across the big man's waist. Korpin felt a leather strap snap and his chest plate shifted slightly. He also felt a searing pain in his side where the tip of Eran's blade had found a seam.
The big man lashed out with his foot while he swung a roundhouse with his sword. Eran had not expected his opponent to be nimble enough to use anything but his sword, and had planned on rolling with the block of the swipe, but instead was forced to roll backwards with the kick, and taking a shocking blow from the sword. He had blocked the attack with his sabers, but the impact nearly dislocated his left shoulder.
Eran decided it was time to pull out all the stops. He thinks I'm a Jedi, he thought, let's do some Jedi type moves. Eran was able to spring back to his feet after the kick and saw that Korpin was simply swinging his large weapon back across his body again in a backhand swipe as is he were harvesting wheat with a scythe. Instead of blocking the attack, Eran leaped high in the air over the dangerous blade and reached out with his foot, kicking the big man in the face.
The kick would have flipped anyone else over, might have even killed a much weaker man, but Korpin let his neck absorb the blow. A small trickle of blood came from the nose though, and Eran used his opponent's stability as resistance to flip backward. Korpin rushed his distant adversary again. His sword was poised over his shoulder to smash Eran. Instead of dodging to the side, the smaller man dove in between the charging legs of his opponent. Korpin had let the tip of the sword follow his elusive enemy, not wanting him to get away, but now had to halt his weapon in mid swing less he cut off his own leg.
This halt in momentum put Korpin off balance briefly, allowing Eran to squeeze through the huge legs and still score a hit on the back of the already wounded side. This time Korpin actually released a howl of pain at the injury. "I'm going to smash you!" Without looking, the crime lord turned and lashed blindly behind him. Eran stayed close to the man's back and inside the swing, using one of his blades to block the big sword at the handle and let the other one search out the inside of the giant's knee. The blocking blade removed one of Korpin's fingers, while the other blade nearly hamstrung him.
Korpin went briefly to one knee and looked like he might fall backwards to crush Eran. The smaller fighter leaped nimbly away, but soon saw that the uneasiness of his opponent had just been a feint to get rid of the pest at his back. Korpin pivoted on his good knee and tested his other leg as he rose. If his other leg hurt when he put weight on it, Eran couldn't really tell because Korpin's face was a mask of rage.
Eran noticed he had leaped blindly into a corner of the room. There was the destroyed drink bar on one side of him with broken glass and the frame of the thrown table, and on the other side was a small platform where the band played.
Korpin walked in slowly now, not wanting to give the quick-footed warrior a chance to spin or roll out of this one. As he walked, the big man rotated the heavy sword around in his wrist. He was missing one of his fingers, giving him only five on his sword hand, but if that bothered him, the experienced eyes of Eran couldn't tell as the big weapon flowed smoothly around Korpin's body.
Eran saw only one way out of this corner. In the middle of Korpin's routine and while the big man was still a couple meters away, Eran faked a charge. Korpin quickly brought his sword in front of his chest vertically, protecting against any attack to his upper body. Instead of striking, Eran pivoted one hundred eighty degrees and ran back at the corner.
With Eran's back to him, Korpin's eyes lit up, and he thrust his weapon with both hands straightforward from its vertical position, tip leading. He meant to skewer Eran's spine, but the agile youth had other plans. Eran's left foot found the band platform and pushed off, letting the thrust pass just underneath his crotch.
Korpin saw an opportunity to cut his enemy up the middle and quickly brought his weapon up. Eran had leaped off the platform, and his right foot found the other wall in the corner pushing up and back. To any observer (the dancing girl was watching from the hallway) it looked as if Korpin was throwing Eran with his blade, but the quick fighter stayed just a hair's breadth in front of the huge blade. Korpin followed the youth's path over his head until his blade was parallel with the floor, some three meters in the air. He should have brought it another ninety degrees.
As Eran completed his flip over his big adversary, he made a hard scissors cut with his blades right above the giant's shoulders. Eran landed lightly on the ground behind his opponent, and Korpin's head landed next to him. The crime lord held his macabre pose fore several, long moments, before he began to teeter backwards, the momentum of his sword deciding the direction of his final resting-place.
Eran was so shocked by the sudden ending of the fight that he almost forgot to get out of the way of the falling giant. Eran took three quick steps back and then a delayed fourth as the huge sword imbedded itself into the floor right in front of him. Half of the enormous weapon was buried in the stone, both of Korpin's hands still grasping at the handle, never to let go.
Eran deactivated both of his weapons and breathed out a huge sigh, releasing all of the penned up stress from the fight. He turned around to survey the room. It looked like a Calamarian typhoon had ripped through the chamber. All of this over a few simple flight logs, Eran thought. He was just about to check on one of the unconscious guards, when a movement from the hallway caught his attention. He looked briefly into the eyes of a very scared dancing girl, and then she bolted.
"Wait!" he called after her, but she was gone. Eran suddenly felt rejuvenated, as if he hadn't just had the fight of his life and leaped over a fallen table to chase her. When he reached the entry to the hall, a different hallway than the one he had been led down earlier, he saw her turn a corner up ahead.
The girl knew her way around the complex pretty well, but Eran was far too fast. After rounding the corner he leaped down nearly a full flight of stairs and nearly crushed her as she turned to run do the next flight. Eran reached out and caught one of her trailing wrists. She had been running hard, and Eran was nearly yanked down the stairs, but instead it was the girl who lost her footing. Eran kept her from tumbling and brought her up to him, safely on the landing. At least Eran thought he was bringing her to safety. The girl thought she was going to be brutally raped and beaten by the man who had just killed her boss. This girl had long ago given up the idea that anyone would come and rescue her.
"Don't worry," Eran said above her frantic yelling and punching, "I'm not going to hurt you. You can go free if you want. I just want to know where Feeler kept his computers and air traffic logs."
The girl seemed to calm somewhat, having remembered Eran saying something like that when she had tried to slink away from her boss. Maybe this guy was on the level. "Do you speak Basic?" Eran asked, getting no vocal response from the scared girl. The girl nodded slowly. "Can you show me where the computers are?" Again the girl nodded. She paused briefly to see if there were anymore questions, and then led Eran up the stairs.
Two hours later found Eran standing in a hangar. From the sensor logs he had been able to narrow down his choice of ships to two. The first had already left Tatooine three days ago and Eran envied them. The second ship was standing in front of him now. It was the same ship he had seen earlier that looked like a collection of scrap. Even now that he knew this was the ship that had chased him all over the galaxy, it still looked like a piece of junk.
Jaina was still in the hotel. Eran had paid for one more night and made sure Jaina hadn't awoken yet before checking on the ships. Eran was concerned on how to get into the spaceship. There didn't seem to be any latch, or keypad that he could access.
Eran walked up to the ship and leaned against one of the pillions as he tried to look in one of the hatches to see a way to get in. As he leaned against the pillion, one of the lightsabers in his coat pressed up against his chest and he had an idea. When he had been fiddling with the weapon earlier he had found a switch that he couldn't explain. Eran removed one of the lightsabers now and pressed the switch. The space ship seemed to come alive and the hatchway to the inside of the ship opened.
Another two hours later found Eran and Jaina in the Scavenger flying far away from Mos Eisely. Jaina was still out and lying on her bed while Eran was in the cockpit trying to figure out how to get into hyperspace in the custom made ship. Eran had no idea how he was going to explain this situation, but he wanted to take Jaina back to Coruscant so that maybe her mother could figure something out. If he had to, Eran would simply leave Jaina in the palace anonymously, not wanting to have to face charges of murder. Especially not for murdering a Jedi, even if it was only in self defense.
Eran finally figured out the nav computer in the Scavenger and he blasted off for Coruscant.
Chapter 7
"Luke"Day 4
It's been four days and I have finally eaten. I know I am a Jedi Master, but I don't see how the Empire could have counted on me staying alive. Maybe that was the point. I know the government that exiled me here to this ice ball is technically the Republic, but I believe Snotzenexer will make sure that title is only accurate in name and not spirit.
I am not making any excuses for my actions that forced this exile, but the actions would not have occurred had Snotzenexer not taken power. Again, that in and of itself does not make me blameless, but it is the only answer I have been able to come up with. Even that is not much of an excuse. To the uninformed observer, Snotzenexer had done nothing wrong to force my treason. On the contrary, he had saved the Republic from certain ruin, restoring it to twice its previous power. Regardless of outward appearances, I am a Jedi and I need to act upon my instincts. Given the chance again, I would still try to confront Snotzenexer, but with my hindsight, I would be less forceful and more cautious.
I ran across a small animal this morning. I am not sure what it was, but the meat was adequate. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on like this. I am heading south, and from what I can sense in the magnetic polarization of this planet, I am still about five hundred kilometers from the equator. How much warmer the belt-line of this planet will be I don't know, but I must try to get there. May the Force be with me.
Luke opened his eyes slowly. He had been keeping a mental log ever since he had arrived on Hoth, storing his thoughts in the recesses of his mind, accessible to him or anyone with Force sensitivity. He'd seen what extreme cold could do to some people's memory or state of mind, and if he was ever found or rescued, he wanted Leia or one of her children to have some sort of record of what had happened to him.
As Luke slowly fell out of his trance, the cold became more noticeable. The Jedi Master pulled his coat tightly around himself, trying to see if there were any warm sections of fabric left in the thin covering. Luke still remembered when he had been given the coat four days ago and what the exilers/executioners had told him.
"Well, Master Skywalker," the man said as a prelude to the sentence he was about to read, "you are hereby sentenced to eternal exile on this planet of Hoth. You will not be aloud to ever leave this planet for as long as you shall live or until the current government is no longer in power, at which time your case may be reviewed at the discretion of the new government. All rights you have enjoyed as a citizen of the Republic have been revoked and any attempt to leave this planet will invoke the harshest of consequences. Good luck, may the Force be with you."
Luke had been staring at the shuttle's exit ramp the entire time his sentence was being read. Now he watched as the door slowly opened top-down. Before he could even see the bright glare of the Hoth landscape in the growing space around the opening ramp, Luke felt the icy blast that froze him instantly to the bone. Being from Tatooine, Luke was used to desolate landscapes, but what he saw from the inside the ship was more disheartening than anything he had ever seen in his entire life. White. Absolute white. There was not one blemish on the scene as far as the eye could see. He knew the shuttle he was on was hovering a meter above the snow, not wanting to test the rigidity of the surface and was probably leaving a slight indentations on the immaculate landscape, but they would disappear within seconds after the ship's departure. After it left, Luke would be the only thing unfrozen for many kilometers in any direction. The time for which that stayed true would depend on his determination to survive.
"Normally when we exile someone to a baron world," the man was speaking again, no longer reading a script, "we give them some means of survival whether it be a blaster or a vibroknife. We were told that since you were a Jedi Master, you would not be given anything."
At this point Luke was beyond sarcastic responses and merely nodded stoically. He was wearing a full bantha suit that had been given to him consisting of boots, pants, coat, mittens, and a hat. Without any further instructions he walked down the ramp into the icy surroundings.
"If you are looking for shelter, I believe the old Rebel outpost buildings are located about 15,000 kilometers that way," he said, pointing west. "Of course they are also about 15,000 kilometers that way," he added, pointing east. "Take your pick." With that last snide comment, the ship closed its doors, and lifted up into the sky.
Four days later Luke was sitting in one of the three ice igloos he had made during his exile so far. The structure was a simple dome made by swirling snow around and heating it slightly. The snow would melt and then freeze immediately into ice. Luke had become quit good at the building process and required little Force concentration. One problem with the construction process was that it left no door. Luke often felt like some type of avian waking up every morning, cracking out of his ice egg.
The Jedi's stomach was still grumbling about the meat he had eaten earlier in the day. Luke didn't feel he was going to be sick from it, but its simple presence in his body helped remind him that he was still very hungry.
"What am I doing here, Ben?"
If things went on like this, Luke wouldn't last one month. He was sure this was not how he was supposed to spend the rest of his life, wandering aimlessly about Hoth, teaching the few Force strong people the Republic decided to exile. Luke laughed briefly at this last thought, but only briefly. He had been sure he would either die like Yoda had, old and gray asleep in his bed, or like Ben had, in battle. He didn't know of too many Jedi Masters who had frozen to death while in exile on an uninhabited planet.
Luke figured there had to be something he was supposed to do to get off of this iceball, but he had no idea what it was. The Force was not giving him too many definitive answers. It was definitely telling him not to do some things. When he was in transit to Hoth, he had been fitted with a neckband. Luke could sense some very powerful explosives in the small box on the back of this band. He could easily diffuse the device with the Force, but he was getting danger emotions every time he started prodding at the works of the neck bomb, so he had decided to leave it alone.
Luke wasn't exactly getting positive feedback as to his selected path of travel either, but every time he went north, east, or west, he got negative feelings. It simply took faith, and Luke didn't have a whole lot of that right now. He had had faith in the extinction of the Empire, but had been proven wrong. He had had faith in the stability of the Republic, but had been proven wrong. He had had faith in his own decision-making ability and had been proven wrong. Now he was having a tough time believing he was going to survive this ordeal when there was nothing to back up that train of thought and plenty of evidence to prove it wrong.
Faith might be hard to come by, but sleep was very easy. Luke was exhausted from keeping himself warm, and fell into a deep Force slumber.
Day 8
I have not eaten since day four, and it does not look like I will make it much further. It appears I have been making this diary in vane for I know of no one who will read it nor do I know of no way to extract it from me after I have gone. Regardless, I sincerely doubt anyone will find my body. The nature of this world is one of forgetfulness. The winds and snow cover all and leave no trace of anything's presence.
There are times when I wish to simply stop moving, stop trying, but the Force insists I keep going. To what end I do not know. I have made my peace with the galaxy and am ready to meet my father. In a way, it is better that I go this way. I have been a symbol of change in the galaxy. I ended the Emperor's reign and began again the training of Jedi. Now it seems the universe is ready to push away those changes and settle down into a more stable lifestyle.
I have been forced to admit that with the return of the Jedi, there is also greater risk of trouble. Though the Jedi are provided as symbols of peace and protection, the Dark Side is always a threat. Maybe with the troubles of the Empire gone, the galaxy doesn't feel the protection of Jedi is worth the risk of another Vader. With that being the galaxy's wish, my Academy is destroyed, Leia is out, and I am here.
Of course maybe this new viewpoint of mine has simply been forced upon me by my situation. My mind wants me to make the best of it, and this is what it comes up with. I have not gone down without a fight. I have tried to make contact with Leia every morning when my mind is fresh and my senses alert, but have come up empty. I find it hard to believe that for over a week now, not one of my many friends have come to rescue me. Because of this I realize either Snotzenexer has put enough protection around this place that no one will ever get through, or all of them are in an equivalent situation to my own.
Whatever my final destination, I will continue walking south. Each day I labor to keep a steady pace, sometimes needing rests of several hours before continuing. These past two days have been very disheartening. I have stopped to set up night's camp still within sight of the previous night's igloo. I am only covering a mere kilometer a day and cannot hope to reach the equator. For this reason I have assumed the Force is simply aiming me toward a cave where my body can be found.
* * *
The winds whipped at his face as the Jedi Master teetered briefly on one foot. The simple action of putting his feet forward and backward had become an adventure as he moved like an infant exploring the new world of balance. The wind was strong, but not near strong enough to cause such clumsy behavior from a man with dexterity capable of blocking blaster bolts. Still Luke trembled on every step, concentrating as hard as his nutrient deficient brain could to keep moving. In the past few hours he had stopped devoting any effort towards keeping his extremities warm, and they had gone numb almost immediately, making it that much harder to control them.
He had fallen twice and labored each time to rise. Now he stumbled forward again, measuring his length in the powdery ground. As his face hit the white snow he felt the Force leave him. It wasn't a Forceless bubble or an ysalamiri field, but Luke had no problem understanding it. It was over. Luke was done. The Force had allowed him to go this far and no further.
Luke still felt the Force in him, but his will power to use it had failed. This was his fated final resting spot. He lay there, for how long he didn't know. It felt like days but was in fact only a few minutes. The Force let him feel the presence of another life and Luke stirred only briefly, wondering if maybe it was not over. He lifted his head a little and was staring at two large hairy feet. Luke crumpled back to the snow, fainting with the knowledge that after he had avoided this fate twice before, he was finally going to be lunch for a wampa ice creature.
* * *
Luke awoke to warmth. He was unsure what to think. His eyes were still closed and his uncertainty of what he would see if they were opened kept them that way. He wasn't upside-down like the first time he had had a run in with the Hoth yeti. Instead he was sitting comfortably immersed in warmth. Curiosity finally got the best of him and he opened his eyes.
He was in a cave. It was dimly lit and Luke could see signs of civilization all over. There were many different pieces of hand carved furniture, utensils and crafts. There were clothes hanging on hooks and rugs spread on the floor. In a back room Luke thought he could see huge piles of wood and there were several fires going in the cave.
Luke himself was sitting naked in a hole of some sort filled with water and with wooden paneling surrounding the top of the tub. It appeared to be a very crude attempt at a hot tub. The water was unnaturally warm and bubbled occasionally as if it were being heated by a source far beneath it. Luke reached downward with his feet, sliding off of his underwater stone seat, trying to feel the bottom of the tub, but he couldn't find it without submerging his head and he didn't want wet hair on Hoth.
A wet head was certainly dangerous in this cold climate, but as Luke's wet face emerged from the water, he was surprised to find there was no sudden cold chill on his wet cheeks. The temperature in the cave seemed to be a very comfortable 20 degrees Celsius. Whoever lived here must go through great pains to keep this place insulated. Speaking of great pains, as Luke became more aware of his surroundings and the Force made him more alert, he began feeling immense pain from his hands and feet. His extremities were no doubt very frost bitten. Luke decided it would be best to be fully healed as soon as possible and enacted a Jedi healing trance.
* * *
Noises crept into the Jedi's senses, slowly slipping him out of his comatose state. The sounds came as sharp cracking noises, and Luke rolled his head slowly, slitting his eyelids a little to see the source. A man had his back turned to Luke and was busy carving something in one of the cave walls. Luke flexed his limbs slowly as he emerged from his healing trance. His limbs felt in prime condition, his perfected healing abilities restoring the blistered flesh to its proper form in only an hour or two.
The man across from Luke took a small break in his labors giving Luke a better view of what he was doing. Luke craned is neck out of the tub a little to see the man appeared to be carving a large notch in the wall about a meter off the ground. There was a large indentation underneath the notch that sunk about half a meter into the rock wall at floor level. Luke had no clue what it was for and looked at the man for some kind of clarification. Luke's host was currently staring curiously back at his guest. He had looked over at Luke during his short rest was relieved to see he was finally awake.
The man smiled congenially at Luke but said nothing. He put his carving tool down gently in the notch he had started and walked slowly over to some clothes that were hanging on the wall a few meters from Luke. There was a large animal hide coat with matching pants, a strip of fur that likely acted as a scarf, thick mittens, a hat, and a pair of boots that looked strikingly similar to the wampa feet Luke thought he had seen right before he had fainted in the snow. The man was wearing no more than a simple military shirt and vest with black pants and very worn military boots.
Luke remained silent as the man made his way over to his outdoor clothes. He appeared to be about ten years older than Luke, who himself was pushing fifty. Luke had managed to age rather gracefully with the Force keeping his physique similar to that of a thirty-year-old. This man didn't have the power of every living thing in the universe supporting is aging process, but had managed to remain very fit and trim.
The man displayed his physical prowess quite dramatically when he reached his coat. Without warning, the man turned toward Luke, leaped the distance between them, and leveled a translucent sword at Luke's neck.
"What have you done?" the man asked, his voice surprisingly calm for his actions.
Luke was a trained fighter and had ingrained reactions to such an attack. The Jedi Master sat up straight in his tub and brought his hand up to call for his lightsaber. Over the years that Luke had used his weapon, he had developed a unique attachment to the device that only experienced Jedi can have, with a strength that only masters can achieve. Luke was able to call his lightsaber to him without line of sight and often from over a kilometer away. As strong as that connection was, Luke and his weapon usually had to at least be on the same planet, and most definitely in the same sector, neither of which was the case. For what it was worth, off in a weapon storage room on the Super Star Destroyer Dark Fist, a confiscated lightsaber did rock slightly.
Here on Hoth, the action did nothing but get the odd sword's point pressed a little more securely against Luke's neck. "I asked you a question," the man said poignantly. He tapped Luke's neck collar with his sword. "I don't think you're here on shore leave."
"Treason," Luke replied, realizing this man wanted to know what kind of exiled scum he had rescued.
"Of course it was treason," the man said calmly, "they don't exile murderers. They space them. What did you do?"
"I was forced into killing a palace security guard."
"So why didn't they kill you?"
Luke shrugged his shoulders, honestly not knowing.
"What do you mean 'forced into killing?'"
Luke didn't have the hour or two necessary to explain to the man what had transpired and why he had needed to see Snotzenexer and how the palace guards had actually been former Imperials, but he had to say something. "They over-reacted to me, and had set their weapons to kill instead of stun. It was kill or be killed."
"What forced their over-reaction?"
Luke appreciated the man. He wanted the whole story before he started sharing his meals with a murderer. "I knew the new leader of my government had obtained his position illegally. He knew this, but also knew I had no way to prove any of my claims. I went to confront him and he had his security try to kill me."
The man on the other end of the sword relaxed a little. "More likely he wanted you to kill one of them." Luke was a little startled by this statement. It was of course the truth, but the man had no basis to say it. Luke knew Snotzenexer had no way of insuring the guards could take down a Jedi Master and what this man had said had to be the truth, but this man couldn't know all the details. "There's a towel behind you," he said as he put his sword away. "Your clothes are on the floor next to the bath."
The towel was a long hair animal hide that absorbed the water off his body quite efficiently. He put his clothes back on, deciding to leave his coat and cold-weather pants off for now, testing the environment in the cave. The man ignored Luke and went back to his work. Luke decided to give himself the self-guided tour of the cave. The cave had been built into several different rooms. Right now, the two of them appeared to be in the living quarters. There was the bath, which was a raised stone platform with a hole in the top and wooden paneling to make the platform more comfortable to the bare skin with which it would be in contact.
Luke saw the completed version of what the man was currently working on and realized the man must be carving out a bed for Luke. The finished version of the stone bed was over flowing with fur and animal hides, which no doubt acted as a mattress for the hard bed. Underneath the small cave were the remains of a fire that was probably used to heat the bed before, and maybe during, use.
There was makeshift stone furniture with animal hides covering everything. A little more walking brought Luke into another section of the cave. The Jedi Master was truly amazed at what this man had accomplished. He first examined what appeared to be a kitchen sink. What had once been a protrusion from the cave wall was now hollowed out with a small drain in the bottom. There was a water faucet that consisted of a series of reed pipes, disappearing above to some unseen water source. The drain also had reed tubing that led of into another section of the cave.
Next to the sink was a flat metal plate, underneath which was an often-used fireplace. Next to the range was a stone oven that had firewalls all the way around it. The refrigerator completed the kitchen set-up and consisted of a hollowed out rock with a stone lid and plenty of snow. The kitchen table was more a kin to a bar than a table, but the stone protrusion looked very functional.
Luke followed the sink drain to another room that was aglow with light. Luke looked up at the ice ceiling and then down on the cave floor where various vegetable plants grew. The sink emptied into a very strategically organized irrigation system.
Luke continued wandering around the cave system finding all kinds of interesting items. There was a bow and arrow set in which the bow was crafted out of a rib from an incredibly large beast. Luke found a mirror with a crude metal shaving kit. The blade was remarkably sharp and the dish of animal fat had been whipped into a convincing lather. Luke also found a room that was much colder than the rest of the cave. Three large skins hung from the cave roof to partition this room off from the rest of the cave and insulate it. There were piles of snow to keep the room frigid. The reason for the walk in freezer was obvious when Luke looked at the five large animals hanging from the ceiling.
Perhaps the most surprising thing Luke found was an indoor lake. It was perhaps thirty meters in diameter and Luke could sense it was about four meters deep in its center. The amazing part about it was that it was teeming with fish. Luke could sense about six different species of fish and couldn't even come close to estimating how many total fishes there were in the lake. He could see the lake was supporting a pretty extensive underwater ecosystem with several different kinds of plants.
This man had put a lot of work into this cave and planned on staying a long time. Luke made his way back to the main room and saw the man was calling it quits for now on the second bed and was building a fire in one of the many hearths that decorated the inside of the cave.
Luke didn't really know what say. He had expected the man to quiz him much more extensively than he had. Luke felt out of place, having never been introduced nor formally invited to stay in the cave. Suddenly the man swore and stopped what he was doing. He looked up and around at Luke. "Conversation?" Luke looked a little confused. "You want to talk, don't you?" The man started to chuckle a little. "You see, I've been away from civilization for so long that I've forgotten common courtesy. Please," the man motioned to one of the stone chairs, "have a seat."
Luke had been eyeing up the chair from the start and made his way over to it. The hard stone couldn't even be felt by Luke's heightened senses through the thick furs that covered it. "How long have you been here?" Luke asked.
"In another week or two I'll have been here for 11,000 days. I keep track of the days on one of the walls in here."
"That's about 30 years," Luke said, quite surprised at the information.
"You have to remember that these are Hoth days, not standard Coruscant days, so I have no idea what the conversation factors are, though these seem to be close to 24 hour days."
"Well if you could tell me what was going on in the galaxy when you got here I might be able to get a better guess for you."
The man looked at Luke for a long while. "Are you forgetting how old you are? You probably weren't even born when they sent me here."
"You might be surprised," Luke informed him. "You were exiled by the Empire?"
The man nodded. "The name is Thomas, Thomas Thorin. It used to be Captain Thorin, but now it's just Thomas. I served directly under Grand Moff Tarkin. He had decided to make me his chief military advisor. After a while, we had fallen into a pretty standard routine. He'd ask me what to do, I'd tell him, he'd do something else, and then I'd say, 'See, I told you so.' Then when the Rebellion started, he started giving me incomplete data. His informants would guess as to how many ships the Rebels had and I would predict an easy victory. It would turn out that the information was wrong by a factor of five, and the Empire would barely squeak out a victory, losing a lot of manpower. Tarkin refused to take the blame for the losses, so he piled it on me.
"What got me sent here was the destruction of the Death Star. If you can remember that, my young friend, then you'll know how long I've been here. They come to me and tell me they have an invincible battle station, but it doesn't have any shields. I said nothing is invincible and shields would be nice. They tell me the designers didn't leave enough room in the main power core for a shield generator large enough to protect the station. I said they need to put one in. They tell me they have covered the entire surface with turbo lasers. I tell them that a small fighter craft like the Rebels were using can slip right through the clumsy turbo lasers. They tell me they have hundreds of TIE fighters on board to protect against enemy fighters. I tell them TIE pilots aren't half as good as Rebel pilots. They tell me the station is invincible. I tell them if the station IS invincible then it doesn't need shields. Result: they don't install shields and it gets blown up by a single fighter pilot.
"There are sometimes that I'd like to find that pilot and wring his neck, and other times when I'd like to kiss him. In the end I've decided I really don't care. One way or the other I was going to be proven right. I just had hoped it wouldn't result in exile. I was labeled as a conspirator because I had sabotaged the Death Star by telling them not to put in shields. Shields that could have stopped the single proton torpedo that destroyed it. As a traitor, I ended up here."
Luke tried to hide the smile that had been spreading across his face when he realized where the story was headed. It wasn't necessarily funny, but it simply proved how truly small the infinitely vast universe was. "That was about thirty years ago," Luke agreed, remembering the time he spoke of well. "My name is Luke Skywalker; I was involved with the Rebellion." Luke decided to throw that information out at him, pretty sure that he wasn't going to take revenge.
Thomas shook his head slowly. "I don't recognize the name, but don't worry, I hold no animosity against the Alliance. Heck, I've often hypothesized what I would have done if I hadn't been exiled, and I'm pretty sure I would have joined you guys eventually."
"Your not just saying that because you know I won't join your side, are you?"
"Clever," Thomas laughed, "no, I have no love for the Empire. I've spent the last 30 years of my life cursing both Vader and the Emperor. How did that come out by the way?"
"We won. Darth Vader and the Emperor were killed and the Empire was overthrown. The Rebellion formed a new government called the New Republic, which is now just called the Republic."
"So it's this Republic that has just gained a new leader that you don't like?"
"Snotzenexer is the new president of the Republic. He was an admiral in the Imperial navy up till about six weeks ago when he began to make his bid for power. He claims to be on the level but he and his female admiral showed me just enough evidence to convince me they were up to something crooked. Now I know they were just tempting me to try to act against them so I would end up here."
Thomas stared for a long while at look, is mind turning over everything he'd heard. "Okay, I give up. Who are you? You have to be something special to be exiled and not killed. You were lured into the kind of trap that only very dangerous people are ever put in. You claim to have been around during the Rebellion but don't look a day over thirty. To top it off, you've survived who knows how many days out there in the cold wearing barely nothing and suffering only a little frostbite, which has somehow miraculously healed. Not to mention you constructed some pretty neat igloos along your trip. You're a Jedi, aren't you?"
"You want proof, or is a simple 'yes' good enough."
"You must have been a pretty big player in the galaxy up till now. How come no one has come to rescue you yet?"
"You've got me, Thomas. I figured any number of five to ten different people would have shown up with in the first two days, but I've neither felt nor seen anything. Snotzenexer must have put a tight lid on this system."
"It wouldn't be too hard to do," Thomas pointed out. "With the location of the sun and the asteroid belt, there are only about three different places one can enter this system. All you have to do is put and interdictor cruiser and Star Destroyer at each one of those spots under drone control, and we are effectively separated from the outside world."
"I don't know this system very well, so I have no idea."
"I didn't know this system very well either, but 30 years of looking into the sky has told me a lot. There are gaps in the asteroid field, but you'd have to be crazy to try and get through it."
Luke smiled a little. "Some of my friends can be counted as a little crazy. One in particular has already traversed the asteroid field running from Imperials about 28 years ago."
The conversation fell quite for a while. "So how did you guys pull it off against the Empire?"
"To be perfectly honest, my friends and I were the prime movers. It all involved getting premium information and having the Emperor under-estimate our abilities. One fighter took out the first Death Star,-"
"First Death Star," Thomas interrupted, "they made another one?" Luke nodded. "I've always wondered how that fighter pilot was able to make the critical shot. I looked at the blueprints and the exhaust port wasn't very big."
"It wasn't that easy of a shot, to be honest with you."
Thomas stared blankly at Luke for a fraction of a second and then realization dawned on him. "I'm sorry, but the cold has made me slow. You're not trying to tell me you were that pilot?"
Luke nodded. "You'll also find out I'm the one who killed Vader and the Emperor. I don't mean to brag, but since I have played such an enormous role in galactic history in the past thirty years is probably why I'm stuck here while Snotzenexer tries to write his own history."
"How is it you weren't discovered during the Jedi Purge?"
"I was only a kid and without the knowledge of the Force or what I was capable of." Luke paused a moment while considering something Thomas had said earlier. "You said that I must be someone important in order to be exiled here. Does that mean you are someone of equal importance?"
Thomas shrugged. "I guess not. I don't think I was exiled as much as I was simply put in cold storage."
"Like Thrawn," Luke said.
"Exactly like Thrawn," Thomas agreed, happy to finally hear a name he recognized. "Send one on a scouting mission to uncharted space, send the other to Hoth. There were two of us that the Emperor was grooming specially for command, but he couldn't get us through the ranks of the military fast enough to keep us from bumping heads with our superiors. I always had the feeling he liked Thrawn better, which is probably why he got the less severe exile. I was probably a little too controversial for his taste. So Thrawn came out of hiding, did he?"
"Yes," Luke replied. "He nearly cost us everything. He was a tactical genius beyond anything we had ever faced before. Snotzenexer is a lot like him, though he approached the take over of the Republic in a different method. Thrawn tried to defeat us militarily, Snotzenexer attacked us financially, politically, and socially."
"Sounds like quite a character. I'd like to meet him sometime."
"I'd love to introduce you to him, which would of course mean that we had gotten off this rock. What we really need now is someone to out-think the guy. He has the backing of the entire galaxy, and I am scared they have no idea what his real agenda is."
"Why don't you tell me about it over supper. I'm sure we'll find a way off this rock sooner or later."
Chapter 8
"Testing the Limits"Mara was hardly surprised to see that Chewie and Ra'tok had suddenly become inseparable, but she was a little surprised to find that one of their common interests was ship repair. The two furry friends were busy tinkering away in the Millennium Falcon when Mara approached the crude tech shed that had been set up on the forest moon. Her ship was parked just outside the facility, allowing easy enough access to most of the tools she'd need to do what she wanted.
She wanted to remove the tracking device from her hull, but she needed to do so in the way that Snotzenexer would expect her to. If you simply detached the device from a ship's hull, it would shut down, and the person on the other end of the homing beacon would know immediately what had happened. There was an electromagnetic seal made between the device and the ship that had to be maintained to keep the tracking device functioning.
Removing the device from the ship also meant removing part of the ship. It was possible to shave a very small sliver of the hull off with a vibro tool, and then fill in the imperfection with molten metal. The procedure had to be done very carefully in order to maintain uniform shield strength around the ship, and, if the job was done poorly, the hull integrity would go down.
Mara spent the better part of the next hour scouring her ship for the device, remembering it was near the engine compartment. She had sworn she had covered every inch of the ship, but still couldn't find it. She found Ra'tok wedged halfway into the Falcon's hyperdrive with Chewie rambling on about something.
"Excuse me, Ra'tok," Mara said, drawing the Defel away from his work. "Have you looked for the tracking device on my ship yet?"
"Yes, Mara. Chewbacca and I have removed it already."
"You what?!" Mara screamed. "You carved up my ship without my permission. You had no right to touch my ship, much less remove the device."
She could hear Chewie say something that sounded a little too close to laughter for Mara's liking. Ra'tok echoed the laughter with his own barking. He responded to the Wookiee in his own language before turning to Mara. "Chewie and I both agree that if you can find the spot on your ship where the device was, you may take any part of the Falcon apart that you wish." Chewie barked something. "Except the hyperdrive," Ra'tok added the translation.
Mara knew she wouldn't find it. There was no way Chewie would allow her to dismantle the Falcon, especially since it wasn't even his. Still, there might be a way to find the spot on the ship, and make good on their bet. "You're on," she responded and turned to storm out of the Falcon.
Two hours later, Mara was down to one last method to find the detachment section. She was a little mad she had kept her hull so clean over the years. It would have been real easy to spot a clean patch of durasteel on the hull. Instead she had been forced to use a laser planer, a hull micrometer, and a vellen former and still hadn't found the spot. Now she was sitting in her cockpit having just finished testing her shields for some frequency modulation. She had magnified the spectrum output until she was noticing the imperfections in the actual durasteel structure, but couldn't locate any structural integrity deficiencies. She had long ago admitted she wouldn't have been able to do a better job, but now it was a matter of pride. She did have one more technique available, the only problem was it admitted to Chewie and Ra'tok that there were no imperfections.
Mara left the ship, walked to the rear, placed her hand on the hull, and closed her eyes. She could feel the metal's warmth through the Force. The atomic structure of the hull was laid out before her. It was a solid crystalline structure. As she began probing a little deeper she noticed some brittle sections where she had removed carbon scoring from Imperial turbo lasers. There were also inner tough areas known as hyperspace hardening sections. This was a result of a slightly miscalibrated inertia damper. Finally, she found what she wanted. There was a very fresh patch of durasteel with no imperfections at all. It was in an area that had been carbon scored repeatedly, but its crystalline structure was perfect.
Mara opened her eyes and looked at the patch. There were no possible flaws in the work, but Mara had a score to settle. "Chewie! Ra'tok! Get out here!"
The two mechanics made their way out of the Falcon in response to the beacon call. They both had grins on their faces, and Mara knew they had been talking about her. "What could ever be the problem, Mara?" Ra'tok asked in a melodic voice that was quickly becoming annoying.
"This is the problem," she said, pointing the spot she knew to be the former location of the tracking device. "You call this good work? There's no way Han would let you touch his ship if he knew this was the kind of work you two were capable of."
"Could you show us what is wrong with it, Mara?" Ra'tok asked pleasantly.
"Pish," Mara said, "it's obvious, isn't it. This whole section is bad."
Neither Chewie nor Ra'tok said anything. They both looked at Mara expectantly, wondering how far this game was going to be played out. Finally Chewie said something to Ra'tok that sounded more like the Defel's barking than the usual Wookiee roar. The Defel responded in like manner, and both laughed. "Well," Mara asked, "do I get my choice at the Falcon's equipment or not?"
"What is your wish?" Ra'tok asked.
Mara turned to Chewie, her face suddenly serious. "Do you still have the cloaking device Lando installed for the fight at Danzig 359?"
Chewie thought for a moment and then responded in an uncertain tone. The three of them walked over to the Falcon while Ra'tok translated for Chewie. "Han had removed the device shortly after the battle at Danzig because it was interfering with some of his modifications and he couldn't find an out of the way place to attach it."
They walked up the ramp and Chewie led them to one of the equipment storage cells in the back of the ship. There nestled amongst a lot of other clutter was the torpedo shaped device in question. "You helped Han remove it, right?" Chewie nodded. "Then you know how it works, right?" Chewie paused and then looked at Mara with questionable eyes. "Well, you can at least try to help me put it on my ship. I have an idea to get Luke off of Hoth, and I need your help."
Chewie grunted an affirmative, and he and Ra'tok lifted the heavy device up and carried it to Mara's ship. The rest of that day was spent installing the device on Mara's ship.
* * *
Dawn found Leia and Mara eating breakfast across from each other. The Academy had never been a place for exotic cuisine, but now in its state of disrepair, the food was even worse. Mara didn't feel right complaining about a free meal, but she could tell from Leia's expression this meal didn't quite hold up to Coruscant Palace standards.
"I should have Threepio do something about this," Leia finally said, stirring the eggs around her plate so they would at least look eaten. "He's a pretty good cook."
Mara hid her smile in a glass of fruit juice that was acceptable. "How are you feeling, this morning?"
Leia smiled half-heartedly. "Besides the indigestion I'm going to have later on today, I feel a lot better, thanks."
Mara couldn't think of anything intelligent to say at the moment and waited before asking her next question. "I didn't want to ask yesterday, but how is Jaina?"
Leia didn't even appear to struggle for emotional control before replying. "I can't feel her either, but it is different. When it happened, I remember feeling Jacen's presence simply torn away from the Force. Jaina's departure wasn't nearly that violent. I guess the best way I can explain it is that Jacen is gone, but Jaina is only hiding."
"So we're talking about some kind of accident in which Jaina could have been only injured?" Mara asked, not wanting to say that Jacen had died.
Leia shrugged her shoulders. "I don't honestly know, and I don't want to talk about it until I have more information."
Mara accepted the response, realizing Leia had made a lot of progress from yesterday, but was still a long way from being healed. "Have you been able to get in contact with Luke?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid. I can't seem to get my head clear enough to send or receive a strong signal. Don't worry, I'll get through. I want to talk to him as much as you do, but it might not be for a while. I do have confidence he is all right, though. If he were hurt or dying, I'm sure I'd be able to tell."
"I was thinking the same thing. I'd be able to sense him leaving the Force plane. Besides, he's a Jedi Master, I'm sure he'll be all right. But unless he can build a ship out of ice, he'll be there for a while, and we are going to need him if we want to get rid of Snotzenexer."
Both women pushed their plates toward the serving droid, hoping it would be able to see that the five bites of food each woman had taken constituted a finished breakfast. "Has Anakin contacted you yet?" Leia asked.
Mara shook her head. "I told the officer I spoke to that it was urgent, and he said he would pass it along. I kind of figured he would call yesterday, but I have no idea what kind of time schedule they're on. I'll give him the rest of the day."
Both of them got up and were about to part company when Mara stopped Leia with a hand gesture. "One last question, do you know where they have put all the scrapped Imperial craft pieces?"
"Not personally, no, but I can direct you to someone who does."
* * *
The next two days were very uneventful. Mara and Ra'tok spent their time rooting through the scrap that had been left behind by the Empire. Ra'tok didn't have a clue what Mara was after, but he knew she had a plan and when she thought it necessary, she would tell him what it was. As it was, they practically had enough parts to build their own ship. They had gathered a fusion reactor, several laser cannons, batteries, plenty of control systems, hydraulics, an atmospheric repulser, and about fifty tons of scrap hulls.
They had enough stuff to build a ship, but it would never fly. Each one of the pieces was utterly destroyed. Ra'tok was loosing patients with his new partner, but also realized that if he and Mara were to be partners, she would be the captain and he the copilot. Maybe this was a test to see how well he followed orders.
Anakin still had not responded to Mara's initial call, and she placed another one. Mara needed Anakin's help, but she didn't need it right now. The next part of the plan could happen without him. "Ra'tok," Mara said, pulling the Defel away from a conversation he was having with Chewie, "we need to make a little trip."
"What for?"
"It's time to give Snotzenexer a little more information."
Ra'tok smiled cunningly. "Where to?"
"We're going to pay Hoth a visit."
* * *
Mara had looked at the space charts considerably the last day she had been on Yavin IV, and she was pretty sure how Snotzenexer would have the system bottled up. He would need three, maybe four interdictor cruisers to cover all the space lanes toward the planet. The asteroid field in the system created a huge natural interdiction field and limited the possible entry points. Hoth was the six planet in orbit, the inner five playing little to no role in hyperspace travel. The seventh planet in the system was a gas giant that was twice as dense as Yavin. It had an orbit perpendicular to that of the asteroid field and had an incredibly slow orbital cycle. In its current position, it would block incoming hyperspace travel to Hoth from its direction for another two years.
With all the natural interdiction devices, there were only three other lanes open. One lane was particularly large and it might be possible to slip by if the Empire only used one interdictor cruiser, but this probably wasn't the case.
The trip to Hoth took three days, and Mara had some very interesting conversations with her new friend. She also had the opportunity to confirm many of her suspicions as to the Defel's history. On the third day they popped out of hyperspace right on schedule. Mara had planned the jump to take them out of hyperspace still a ways away from the possible Imperial ships.
"Sensors indicate an Imperial Class Star Destroyer and two interdiction cruisers dead ahead," Ra'tok reported.
"Let's see what they do," Mara said as she punched the throttle forward. They came in hard at the Star Destroyers and got a response almost immediately.
"Unidentified ship, you are about to enter restricted space. Cease you present course or prepare to be fired upon."
Mara's ship decided not to cease. "Mara," Ra'tok pointed out calmly, "that was a recording. The Star Destroyer is under drone control. You won't be able to reason with it."
Mara didn't say anything but held the course true. With the recorded message, they had been given a transmission including the area of restricted space. Mara watched intently as her ship, represented by a blinking red dot, made its way closer and closer toward the imaginary line. Three more recorded messages came her way, none of which Mara paid any attention to.
Just as her ship entered the field, she made a drastic turn, just avoiding getting blown out of the sky by six banks of turbo lasers. She stayed on the wrong side of the line as her dive had put her out of range of the ship's weapon sensors. The Star Destroyer had limited logic circuits and could only do what it was programmed to do. Mara's ship was on the wrong side of the line so it needed to be shot. It was out of range to be shot, so it had to be chased.
An entire squadron of TIE fighters went in pursuit of the Jade's Fire. Mara noticed the TIE's weren't actually chasing her, but were following an intercept course between her and Hoth, preventing even the fastest of ships from out running the patrol. Drone TIE pilots had become a lot better in recent years, but next to a good pilot like Mara, they were still only portable lasers. At the same time, with a whole squadron after Mara, she didn't stand much of a chance. She also knew that if she shot one down, she would no longer be able to simply escape the system, but would be hunted down by the Star Destroyer's entire arsenal.
Mara had one more test for the defenses and made a dash for the fringe of the asteroid field. Ra'tok gave Mara a very worried glance, but remained quiet. Mara laughed to herself - if he only knew what the actual rescue plan was. The TIE fighters gave pursuit but were cautious about entering the asteroid. Mara was also cautious, not quite as daring (i.e. stupid) as Han had been.
Feeling she had given the defenses enough of a test to convince Snotzenexer, she felt it was time to leave. Mara crossed the invisible line back into unrestricted space and was pleased to see that the TIE's didn't give chase. Before leaving the system, Mara tried briefly to contact Luke. The two of them didn't have a fraction of the connection that she had had with the Emperor, but they were capable of simple communication at close distances. This unfortunately was not a close distance. She did feel his presence however, and she had the feeling that he was warm and safe. If you could manage to stay warm on Hoth, you had a pretty good chance of staying alive. Mara jumped back into hyperspace feeling confident Luke would be okay until they came for him.
* * *
"Hello, Master Streen," Mara said to the view screen on her ship, "has Anakin Solo returned any of my calls?"
"I'm afraid not Mara," the old Master replied. "It is not unusual for him to become so wrapped up in a project that he does not function properly socially. But it has been over a week since you have first tried to contact him, and unless there is a conscious effort keeping the message from him, I see no reason why he should be unresponsive."
That was something she hadn't thought of. It is very possible Snotzenexer had a hold on the system and was controlling the information. "Has Leia been able to get in contact with him?"
"I'm afraid Anakin has a habit of putting up huge mental barriers with the Force. His incredible abilities open much more of the incessant Force chatter to him, and he has found it necessary to shut it down. He is also very paranoid about the Dark Side and finds it necessary to control everything that goes through his mind. This means he also shuts out the rest of us, including his family."
"You mentioned there are other Jedi with him, helping him with the planetary clean-up. Have you tried contacting any of them?"
"They are only students, and not strong enough in the Force to reach at this great of a distance."
"Thank you for your help, Master Streen. Can you tell Leia that before I come back to the Academy, I'm going to swing by the Denorid system to see if I can find out what's going on."
"I will do that, Mara Jade. May the Force be with you."
Mara closed her end of the transmission and turned to find Ra'tok close behind her pretending to fiddle with the sensor array. He had obviously been listening to the conversation and didn't waste time engaging Mara in a discussion about it as soon as she turned. "Who is this Anakin Solo that you wish to speak with him so badly?"
"He is only the strongest Force user in the galaxy right now," Mara answered directly. "He has some very special abilities, one of which is paramount to the rescue of Skywalker. Of course if you have your own plan for rescue, I'd love to hear it."
Ra'tok though for a little bit. "The defense system in place seemed very effective. You would need about eight or nine different ships in order to keep all of the defense ships occupied before you could hope to slip by unnoticed, and even then you would loose at least half of those ships. I don't know if the rescue of any one man is worth the death of many others."
"I agree," Mara replied. "My method involves one ship and two people. Unfortunately one of those people is stuck in the Denorid system right now."
"And who is the other person?"
"Ideally, I'd like to use the person we are rescuing, but I will have to make do with what I have."
"Namely you," Ra'tok answered his own question.
"What can I say, it's my ship."
Mara needed to stay in hyperspace a little longer in order to get a straight shot at the Denorid system. When that space lane opened up, she dropped out of hyperspace, calculated the new course, and the ship once again flashed into light-speed.
* * *
Victor was sitting in a simulator, his hangover from the morning before a distant memory. "The person you will be fighting against has never lost," Ward said, standing outside the simulator. "He usually decides to fly exactly what the challenger chooses, so if you feel it is more important for you to fight against a certain fighter than to fly with one, you might want to choose your craft accordingly."
"What crafts do I have to choose from?"
"Any of the Republic ships are at your disposal. The most popular choice has been the X-wing."
"How about the A-wing?"
Ward nodded, "we have that ship."
"That's what I want," Victor said confidently.
Ward wasn't too happy with the choice. He knew that Jon's strengths lay in his maneuverability and an A-wing would only augment that ability. "Are you sure?"
"You said I get to choose what I want to fly in, right? I want to use an A-wing, and I don't care what he chooses."
Ward shrugged in acceptance, not really having the authority to force him to use any particular type of ship. He tapped his communicator, relaying the information to the programmer who controlled the contest and to his admiral.
On the other side of the simulator, several decks away, Sanson stood next to the simulator in which Jon was seated waiting for his next victim. "He's chosen an A-wing," Sanson informed him.
Jon was surprised by the choice. The E-wing was by far the best ship in this simulator, followed by the B-wing. The X-wing and Y-wing were probably next, excelling in maneuverability and firepower respectively. The A-wing was at the bottom of the list as far as Jon was concerned. It was definitely the quickest ship, but that was the only positive feature in its arsenal. It had only two laser canons with very little energy reserve, its shields were adequate under similar fire, but beneath the guns of a Y- or B-wing, the shields wouldn't last three hits.
Jon briefly thought about choosing the E-wing or Y-wing, wanting to end this disturbance in his normal morning routine, but he had to stay in form. "I guess you should give me an A-wing too."
Sanson sighed. She had wanted Jon to pick one of the better ships also, not thinking this new recruit would fair any better than anyone else had. Ward seemed to think rather highly of him, but Ward hadn't lasted two minutes against Jon when he had fought, so his idea of good was a little tainted in Sanson's mind.
The two pilots faced each other, five hundred klicks apart. Jon was wondering if his opponent was going to try and get a missile lock on him like his last challenger had. Victor didn't try to get a missile lock; instead he simply flew toward Jon at top speed, emptying his laser batteries in a long distance barrage that actually came close to nailing Jon a couple times.
The tall pilot didn't return fire but merely punched his engines also, closing the distance between the two fighters at an incredible rate. The game of chicken might have ended the contest in a draw if Jon hadn't loosed one of his concussion missiles when the two crafts were only two kilometers apart. Victor had to react quickly, not having been warned by a missile lock of any kind before the launch of the projectile. He hadn't planned on flinching, figuring a draw with an undefeated opponent was acceptable to him, while it probably wouldn't be to his adversary. Now he was going to have to flinch first, or would he. The missile was fired with out a lock, meaning it would continue strait ahead without zeroing in on him. If the ships were still aligned perfectly, he would only have to elevate himself a meter and the projectile would pass harmlessly below him.
In the few seconds left before a collision, Jon saw his opponent rise a meter and knew the philosophy behind such a move. The two ships were still on a collision course, and Jon was certain this new recruit wouldn't flinch. With the other A-wing above him, the quickest escape route was down. Jon pushed his flight stick forward, sending his simulated craft into a steep dive.
Victor knew his opponent had only one means of escape, and went into a dive also a split second after Jon's A-wing disappeared from view. Victor's batteries had recharged somewhat since his opening volley, and he loosed a few shots at Jon's diving ship, which was now ahead of him. Two of the five shots hit the underside of the A-wing before Victor's batteries were dry again.
Jon flipped over and swung up again before reversing his flight path and turning down again, effectively loosing his tail. Any delusions he had about his adversary were gone now, and he prepared himself for a true test.
Victor tried to stay with the elusive A-wing but couldn't mange it and looped out to try to reacquire. The two ships flew toward each other again, not directly head-on, but at skewed angles. Jon began to put his craft into a spin and dove down suddenly, not an expected move because Victor could merely mimic it and pick him up from behind.
Victor did dive, and punched his accelerator to catch his quick opponent. Jon had dove and gone into a full reverse, allowing him to slow considerably. Victor shot right past him and Jon unloaded with a full two-second burst of fire at the top of the exposed A-wing. Victor lost all shields momentarily and had to divert weapon power to shields while trying to hold off his pursuer.
Victor tried loops and dives; he pulled a "Dry Man's Corner" and a "Torrid Hook," neither of which shook Jon in the least. Victor soon realized his opponent knew all the text book moves, and he would have to pull something original. Victor went into a shallow dive, fired a concussion missile, and then went into a steep climb. Jon wavered for a second, wondering where the missile was headed, and then found that in his split second of hesitation, his prey had eluded him.
Jon quickly looped down and around, trying to make sure his adversary wasn't coming up on his backside. Instead he found Victor was simply continuing up. Jon looked at his range indicator and saw his opponent was putting an awfully big distance between them. The tall pilot punched his accelerators, wondering what this elusive foe was up to. Jon spared nothing to his engines, pulling a little energy from his fully powered shields in the process. He wanted to jump on top of Victor before he had a chance to realize Jon had closed the gap.
Victor pulled out of the climb and leveled off a little, and prepared to do what looked like a "Falcon Roll." It was a move that made it look like you were going to climb, when you were actually going to dive. A ship performing a "Falcon Roll" would begin to climb and then flip suddenly over and turn the climb into a dive. It was usually used to loose close tails or to direct an enemy into another allies' sights. Jon knew its weakness though. If you got above the craft performing the maneuver, you had its vulnerable underside as a target. Jon continued his climb, and began to pull out, over shooting the level at which Victor had pulled out.
At that moment, Sanson understood everything. She had been watching these past few seconds with a little wonderment. The missile Victor had fired before his rapid climb had made no sense at all until now.
Jon's ship suddenly stopped completely. The young pilot was bewildered. He had flown in enough atmospheric planes to know what a stall was. The maneuver he was pulling, a sharp climb into an inverted bank might cause some jets to stall, but not a zero-g fighter. He quickly checked his controls and saw nothing was in the red. He was still inching forward slightly, but his upward climb had suddenly and violently stopped.
Jon immediately thought of an overheated engine, after all, he had put everything into his climb to catch his opponent, but even if his engine stalled, his momentum should have allowed him to keep going. It was like he had just run into a wall.
Jon still wasn't sure what had happened when Victor continued his dive and looped up and underneath the hampered craft. He unloaded his laser batteries into the prone craft and loosed two of his remaining three missiles. That was more than enough to end Jon's game, giving him the first defeat of his professional career.
Jon was shell-shocked. He was convinced it had been a glitch in the game. Something had made his ship break down unnaturally. The VR helmet came off his head slowly, as he dreaded facing Sanson. Sanson was all smiles as the tall pilot unfolded himself from the simulator. "That is one clever pilot."
Jon thought Sanson appeared to know what had happened. "What?" Jon asked simply, throwing his hands up to his shoulders.
"He used the computer's memory limitations against you." Jon gave the admiral a puzzled look, meaning he still didn't know what she was talking about. "He fired that missile down and then climbed up, stretching the amount of space the computer had to keep track of. After ten seconds, the computer disregards any foreign object that is outside of a certain range, but inside of ten seconds, the computer keeps track of everything. The simulator has a set range - a volume in which you can fight. It doesn't have the memory capabilities to operate outside that volume.
"Your opponent got you to race and follow him and then pulled a maneuver that he knew would send you even further toward the edge of the volume. Another second longer and the computer would deleted the missile he had fired, figuring it to be unimportant. He had to do what he did as fast as he did, or it wouldn't have worked. He simply made you run into the edge of reality, and while you were pondering what was going on, he blew you apart."
"That isn't fair and you know it," Jon bit back.
"How so?" she responded. "He understood the environment better than you. It is no different than if you were fighting in the dessert and he used a mirage to beat you, or if you were fighting in an asteroid field and he used debris do beat you. He took advantage of your lack of knowledge and beat you with it." Sanson smiled at the defeated ace. "Don't worry, you'll fight again, and I'm sure it won't end from a computer technicality."
Chapter 9
"Resignation Accepted"The fourth Republic team to assist with the evacuation of the Denorid system arrived without warning. Wedge didn't remember being told another team of ships was coming, but he was glad they were here. He was glad, that was, until he saw what the ships were. There were four Imperial class Star Destroyers, seven Escort Carriers, and several smaller ships that Wedge couldn't make out through the view screen.
It took several tense moments before it was determined these were friendlies and were here to help. "Sir," one of Wedge's officers interrupted his thoughts by calling him over to the com station. "This new fleet is in the command of a Commander Pearson, and he wishes to speak to you."
"Put him on," Wedge told the young officer.
"No, sir, he wants to talk with you privately. He has sent a shuttle to us requesting you join him on his ship."
Wedge thought for a moment. The Republic had a few Star Destroyers in service, but none of them were in near as good a shape as the four ships that hovered in space a few thousand kilometers away from him. They had the correct Republic identification codes and though they out gunned the existing Republic aid team, they had not opened fire. Something drastic must have happened while he had been away for the Republic to acquire these ships. Besides the new ships, Wedge had never heard of a Commander Pearson.
"Tell the shuttle pilot I will be with him shortly." The officer received and transferred the information as Wedge left his bridge. There was probably a very good reason for this, there was always a good reason for everything. The important question was whether it was an acceptable reason.
Wedge stopped off in his quarters and got a holdout blaster from his belongings. He thought it would be bad taste if Commander Pearson's men frisked him when he boarded the Star Destroyer, so he would probably be able to slip the weapon past security. He had no intention of using it, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
The pilot was waiting in the main hangar bay of the cruiser, standing next to his Imperial shuttle. "Admiral Antilles, I'm glad you were able to make yourself available. I know you must be very busy during this mission."
Wedge nodded without saying anything as he boarded the shuttle. The pilot was respectful enough, saluting properly and letting the admiral board first. Wedge could detect no deceit in the pilot's actions. High-ranking officials traveled to a plethora of secret meetings, often not knowing more than their chauffeurs did. The key to remaining aloof in the eyes of the lower ranked officers was to pretend to know more than they did. For this reason Wedge did not initiate any inquiries as to what this meeting was for, and since his pilot asked no questions either, the short flight to the huge Star Destroyer was also a quiet one.
* * *
Commander Pearson sat in his office, patiently awaiting Wedge's arrival. The security system on the Star Destroyer had detected the hide out blaster that Wedge was carrying immediately, but Pearson had told his officers before Wedge had come aboard the Republic admiral was not to be disarmed.
Pearson had never in his wildest dream thought this plan would work. He had served with and under Snotzenexer for his entire career and knew of his obvious intellect, but that still didn't account for pulling off the impossible. The transfer of power that had occurred was all too sudden, yet smooth. Simply by convincing the senate the problems of the past had not been fully removed with Leia's deposition and the entire old system needed to be removed, Snotzenexer had been able to systematically remove all of the potentially troublesome people from high ranking positions. These replacements were not always members of Snotzenexer's Imperial staff (that would be too obvious) but they were always people nostalgic for the old ways.
Wedge Antilles had been an easy choice for the senate. Any potential problems that might have arisen from the fact he was the top man in the Republic's military, disappeared when the simple fact that he had been conspiring with Leia throughout the Denorid crises was brought forward. The Republic was not at war, and therefore the removal of its top Admiral would not be detrimental. Besides, Wedge was old, not old for an Admiral, but old for someone who had started his military career some 30 years ago. He had fought through every battle and had led the good side to victory each time. Now that the war was over, it was decided he should retire.
A light blinked on Pearson's desk, notifying him that Wedge was at his door. "Come in." The door slid aside, revealing Wedge flanked by two flight officers. "Please come in, Admiral."
Wedge hesitated briefly, his eyes searching the small office as inconspicuously as possible, though the caution seemed blatantly obvious to Pearson. "I assure you this is no trap, Admiral." The commander's words did little to reassure Wedge, but having reached a conclusion in agreement to the statement, he entered the room. The two officers stayed behind him, and were removed from the party of four when the door closed behind the Admiral.
Pearson rose from behind his desk. "Please, take a seat, Admiral."
Wedge thought briefly about standing to show his defiance - but, defiance of what? he thought. He took a chair two meters in front of the desk. "I'm sure you're deathly curious as to what this is all about, and I'm glad to say I'm here to tell you. Would you like something to drink?"
The offer startled Wedge slightly, and he shook his head negatively, still not uttering a word since he had entered the office. "I'm sorry," Pearson said, rising again from his chair. "I'm still on Coruscant time." The commander walked over to a small kitchenette in the corner and began to pour two cups of stimsoline. Despite Wedge's refusal of the drink offer, Pearson brought the second cup over to the seated admiral and placed it on a small end table. "I believe it's still six in the morning over there."
"Seven-sixteen," Wedge spoke for the first time, not bothering to look at his chrono while correcting the commander. His tone was unemotional, lacking any concern or care for Pearson's professed tired state.
"Yes," Pearson said, sipping his drink, "that's probably right. Seven-sixteen. That sounds about right." Silence existed for the next few moments as Pearson sipped at his drink and Wedge allowed his to steam away on the table. Snotzenexer had explained to Pearson exactly how to conduct this meeting, and either the commander was doing a poor acting job or the admiral was made of more mettle than Snotzenexer had predicted. Having never known Snotzenexer to be wrong, Pearson correctly identified himself as the problem and hurried to the chase.
"The Republic has undergone a change of command. President Organa-Solo has been removed from office over this whole situation." Pearson waved his arm toward a window, indicating the Denorid system. "President Snotzenexer has replaced her as president. He was president of the Varion Imperial Bank and . . ."
Whatever Commander Pearson said next wasn't heard, as Wedge was lost in thought. That name sounded incredibly familiar. Luke - Wedge thought - it had something to do with something Luke had told him. That day on Coruscant, looking through the battle records of the Danzig encounter. Snotzenexer had been the commander who had led the attack at Yavin IV, and had been the one who had escaped from both Danzig 359 and Hastrin.
Wedge looked at the commander sitting in front of him, spewing out the resent history of the government. It was no doubt important information, but he could pull it all up after the meeting by contacting news sources back on Coruscant. Even if he had wanted to listen to what was being said, Wedge's mind was racing so fast that he could only pay attention to his thoughts.
There were two possibilities. One was this Snotzenexer had nothing to do with the Empire and he had indeed been the bank president that he claimed, or he was a former Imperial who had acted directly against the Republic as recently as two months ago. If the first possibility were true, that would mean Luke had been wrong.
Luke was not the smartest person Wedge knew. Wedge even considered himself to be the Jedi's intellectual superior. Luke was not a good investigator or a wealth of information. But if one thing was true about him, he was probably the least misinformed person in the galaxy. The Jedi Master had a Force augmented sixth sense that never lied. He not only had hunches and guesses about the present that were never wrong, he could predict the future with incredible accuracy. If Luke had a conviction that this Snotzenexer was an enemy, Wedge would be the first to agree with him.
" . . .Even Ackbar and Iblis have resigned their positions as military advisors and returned to their home worlds to live a comfortable life in retirement. Now they understand it is a big step to you, the head of the fleet, to simply resign cold bantha, but the senate feels it is important you return to Coruscant at once so you can judge the situation for yourself. As it is, there are a few senators - quite a few, actually - that feel you should be removed from your position simply because of your role in this situation." Again Pearson motioned to the Denorid system.
Wedge nodded, pretending to be absorbing everything that had been said and pondering it. It probably wasn't all that far from the truth. Wedge's mind was working furiously. The entire rescue operation that was taking place here had been kept in the dark. Something as big as a leadership change in the government would have definitely been reported to all reaches of the Republic. Someone was controlling the information and doing a stangin' good job of it.
What Wedge hadn't been told, he needed to figure out. Luke had gone out after Snotzenexer, and now this Snotzenexer was President of the Republic, which meant Luke had failed. This meant Snotzenexer had his wits about him. Leia knew where Wedge was, yet she hadn't contacted him. This meant Leia was in some way detained, possibly in trouble. With Leia went Han and Chewie. Also if this Snotzenexer had defeated Luke it was possible he was also indisposed.
"So you want me to resign my position?" Wedge responded, sounding deflated.
"No, not quite," Pearson corrected. "The senate just wants you to quite your position here in the Denorid system and return to Coruscant. I doubt any charges will be brought against you. After the Skywalker incident, I don't think anyone wants to deal with another trial."
"The Skywalker incident?" Wedge asked, trying to sound as detached as possible.
"You haven't heard?" Pearson asked rhetorically. "The Jedi Master was convicted of treason and exiled."
The rest of the meeting was just a blur in Wedge's memory. Somehow he had managed to end the meeting professionally, handing over command of the relief efforts to Commander Pearson. Wedge was in a turbo lift bringing him to the shuttle that would take him back to his command ship. He had been given three hours to gather his stuff and communicate to all of the rescue patrols that there was going to be a change of leadership here in the Denorid system. At the end of that time a shuttle would bring him back to Coruscant.
There was no way Wedge was going to get on that shuttle. Now, more than ever, he needed to check out those asteroids that had missed the planets. If Snotzenexer had planned to take over the government, he would need something like this to stir up the dissent in the senate necessary to remove Leia.
Wedge's escort left him in the shuttle bay of his cruiser and told him he could have as much time as he needed. Wedge's mind was racing. He needed a ship, more succinctly, he needed to steal a ship. There was no way he could manage this on his own, but there were few people he could trust. Only one person came to mind.
"Tremon here."
"Perry, this is Wedge. I need your help."
Captain Perry Tremon looked around the bridge, making sure no one was paying any attention to him. He knew no one could hear the personal transmission, but Wedge sounded urgent, and would probably not want attention drawn to this situation. "Yea, what can I do for you?"
"I need to ask you to do something for me, but it will probably mean the end of your career in this navy for quite a while." Wedge proceeded to explain what had just occurred, what he knew about Snotzenexer, and what was going on back on Coruscant. "If I let them remove me from the military, I'll never be able to get back in. I have to make a move now or never. I can't do it alone."
"I'm with you Wedge. I'm on my way to your quarters right now. I hope you have a game plan."
"Roger that. I'll tell you when you get here."
* * *
"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?" The tech nearly ran over to Perry as the Captain was examining one of the medium freighters in the Star Destroyer's flight bay.
It was only a half-hour before Wedge was scheduled to return to Coruscant, and Perry had just flown over to the Star Destroyer flag ship and had fought through the docking crew who hadn't wanted him to board. Perry had been able to talk and push his way through as the techs furiously tried to contact Pearson or one of their other superior officers to notify them of this unauthorized visit. Pearson had allowed the visit. He had done so only because Snotzenexer had told him Wedge would try something drastic and they needed more dirt on the Republic Admiral in order to ensure his removal from the military.
Now Perry was walking through the flight bay looking at the ships with a distant shadow. "Yes," Perry responded to the anxious tech who had stopped him, "can you tell me what kind of shielding this freighter has?"
"I'm sorry, sir, but that is classified."
"Classified!" Perry shrieked. "This is a Republic ship and I am your superior officer. What kind of fleet is this where the techs know more than the officers."
"I'm sorry, sir, but Commander Pear-"
"Commander?! Commander?! I'm a Captain. You sure do have a weird power structure philosophy going on in this ship." Perry took a breath and outwardly calmed. "Let me take a guess," he said, turning back to the ship sitting next to him. "This has single phased particle shielding with dual pulse modulated beam shielding. I know this because I do my research. What I also know is that if your ships are not fitted with strato-phased shielding they won't be a bit of good to us here. Without strato-phased shielding these ships won't last more than a minute in any one of the planet's stratospheres. Do you people have any mission briefings at all or did you just come down here to displace us without a single care for the lives we are trying to save?"
The tech was a little confused. He wasn't exactly sure if Perry was just trying to intimidate him or if he was really calling down a challenge to see if they were still part of the Empire. To be honest, Perry wasn't really sure what he was trying to do either. "I am going to check each one of these ships personally. For each ship I find without adjusted shields, that's another hour and a half that you will have to spend modifying the shields and another hour and a half that the planets down there will have to wait before help is given."
By now Perry's screaming had attracted the head tech officer to the situation. The officer had just been briefed by Pearson and understood Perry was trying to pull some type of move against the ship. He also knew he was supposed to allow him. What really got him steamed, though, was the fact that Perry was entirely correct about the shields.
"He's right, Jerbin," the officer said, "the shields need to be changed."
Jerbin was not as informed as his superior officer was, and gave him a second look at the command. The officer made a slightly pleading gesture with his eyes and then went stern. Jerbin got the hint and moved away from Perry and began to look for other techs he could rope into helping him adjust some shields.
Captain Tremon looked at the officer and tried to figure out his motives. "Lieutenant Sarthom," the officer introduced himself. Perry nodded in greeting. "I'm afraid we were pressed into service suddenly and are ill prepared to help. Don't worry, we are ready to do our part in the relief effort."
"I don't doubt it, lieutenant," Perry responded, looking around at the array of ships in the hangar. "With your addition to the fleet, you bring a lot of ships that are unfamiliar to me."
"Feel free to look around, Captain. I'm going to try and organize my men into making the shield adjustments you talked about." With that, the lieutenant walked away, leaving Perry alone in the hangar. If Perry hadn't been in such a hurry to get rid of the officer, he would have been suspicious of his willing departure. As it was, Perry made for the nearest ship that matched all of Wedge's requirements.
* * *
Wedge arrived at the Star Destroyer via shuttle a few minutes later. He was escorted down the ramp and into the main hangar of the Star Destroyer, all the while feeling like some sort of prisoner. He wasn't cuffed and had both hands in his in his pockets with his head hung down in faked dejection. He had two bags slung over his left shoulder, and someone behind him was carrying a third bag that totaled all of his personal belongings. In his right hand, hidden inside his pocket he was fidgeting with a small energy sensor. The instructions Wedge had given to Perry had been straight forward: find a ship with a decent cargo capacity and adequate weapons and preferably a tractor beam, get inside, prepare for immediate departure, and activate the beam shielding.
Wedge was busy pointing the small energy sensor at each ship he passed, trying to see which ship had its shields on. The third ship he passed on his way to the hyperspace shuttle that would take him back to Coruscant was a Skipray Blastboat. The sensor in Wedge's pocket beeped once and he hurriedly turned it off. Wedge tried to hide his smile. Excellent choice, Perry, he thought to himself. The ramp into the ship was open, and Wedge waited until he was only a few paces from the entrance before he dashed toward the ship.
Perry was watching closely and made sure his timing was accurate. As soon as Wedge made his move he fired up the engines and started raising the entry ramp. The former Republic Admiral leaped onto the fast closing outer entrance and was thrown to the floor of the ship as Perry lifted off of the hangar floor and made a dash for the closing bay doors in the hangar.
Wedge heard a sharp hissing noise as Perry actually got the ship into space before the ramp-way was fully closed. Perry had calculated the coordinates for their jump in advance, and as soon as they were clear of the Star Destroyer, they disappeared into hyperspace.
* * *
Snotzenexer listened patiently has Commander Pearson explained the situation to him. Snotzenexer wasn't angry at what had happened. He had expected and wanted Wedge to do something rash. No, Snotzenexer wasn't mad, at least not at first.
"Their trajectory into hyperspace after leaving the Star Destroyer was consistent with a trip to Coruscant," Pearson said, finishing up his report.
"And you have done nothing about this except call me," Snotzenexer said, his blood pressure starting to rise. "Am I supposed to assume that you think he actually going to Coruscant?"
Pearson could tell from Snotzenexer's voice that the former Imperial Admiral didn't share his beliefs. "Where else?"
"Anywhere else!" Snotzenexer screamed. "You were about to send him to Coruscant via a chartered shuttle. Why, in all the suns of Danzig, would he then steal a ship to get him to the same place? Now he is a rebel against the Republic when he could have waited to make his move once he got to Coruscant. Plus you say he stole a Skipray Blastboat. Why would he do that? If he wanted to run there are at least five faster ships in your hangar he could have taken. No, Antilles is far too smart to simply choose a ship at random if he has a specific task in mind."
"What would you have me do?" Pearson asked.
"Think for yourself for a change," Snotzenexer replied quite irritably. "I assume as the stolen craft left your long range sensors it was still headed toward Coruscant. Don't answer that. I know Antilles would make sure that was the case. He is also going somewhere that is also outside of your sensor range, else he would have headed directly there." Snotzenexer planned this out ahead of time. The only problem was he thought Wedge would do something Pearson would have been able to interpret on his own instead of simply running for the hills.
"The Skipray blast boat is the smallest capitol class ship in existence," Pearson said while he saw Snotzenexer was thinking. He knew the genius liked to have all the information possible. "It is smaller than many types of freighters and is given a capitol class only because of its fire power capacity. Because of its small size it is not capable of straight up fighting and specializes in group attacks or hit and runs. It is one the smallest ships with a tractor beam capable of toeing a fighter class. It also has a fair sized cargo bay."
"Are there any other ships with a tractor beams in your hangar?" Snotzenexer asked.
"We have four fighter tugs, one hyperspace tug, and six modified interceptors."
"Does the hyperspace tug have any cargo room?"
"No sir."
"He's heading for the asteroids that over shot Denor and Trewist," Snotzenexer said.
"What would he gain from that?"
"I don't need to explain everything to you," Snotzenexer replied, but decided to tell him anyway. "The senate has decided the asteroids exploded before they reached the Denorid system because of pockets of gronst in the asteroids. Gronst is very explosive when it undergoes rapid temperature changes and is also very common in the Danzig system. If Antilles can prove those asteroids not only didn't blow up from gronst, but were artificially detonated he will be able to convince the public that an investigation needs to take place. Even as president of the assembly I won't be able to prevent that investigation from happening."
"What about the asteroids that missed Forinad?"
"They should have been swallowed by a solar cluster that exists on the outskirts of the Danzig system. I haven't been able to do anything about these other asteroids because I don't have their coordinates. The information here on Coruscant can only give percentage chances of possible locations of the rocks. Antilles' cruiser was in system at the same time as the asteroids and therefore has trajectory information in his sensor logs that no one else has. Get that information and go stop Antilles before he topples everything I have worked to create. Please remember that in his day, Antilles was the best pilot in the Republic and don't take him for granted. While you're out there, destroy the rest of the asteroids."
With that, Snotzenexer closed the connection, leaving Pearson to scramble for the information he needed. It took him nearly twenty-four hours to get one of his scientists access to Wedge's former ship, after which it was another long time before the officer was able to extract the information Pearson wanted. He sent two more Skipray Blastboats, a modified freighter with interdiction capability, and three modified heavy TIE Interceptors. Anything more than that and he was scared he would call too much attention to the operation.
Chapter 10
"Solutions and Answers"Senator Belsiphvin was waiting for Snotzenexer as his shuttle landed on Coruscant. "President," she started quickly as she tried to keep pace with Snotzenexer, "there are quite a few irate senators in the assembly wanting to speak with you about your resent endeavor."
"Senator," Snotzenexer replied as he continued to walk toward his office, "I sincerely doubt the senators themselves are upset, but it is the people whom they represent who have voiced their complaints."
"There is little difference if the senators represent their planets fully."
"Ah, but there is a difference," Snotzenexer turned to face the female senator as they had reached a turbo shaft and were waiting for the lift. "A senator who is mad at me will not be able to rationally discuss the situation, while one who is representing an angry public yet calm himself can listen and discuss rationally alternatives to the problem."
"Then there are solutions?" Belsiphvin asked as the lift chimed and the doors opened.
"There are always solutions to every problem." Snotzenexer motioned to the open lift in front of them. "This is going to take me straight to my office, where I don't think you want to go. While I arrange my presentation of a solution, why don't you gather all of the 'irate senators' and I will address them myself. I'm sure they will all be happy to find out I have a proposition that will not only fix their current problem but also maybe even improve their previous situation. We'll meet in about one hour in one of the committee rooms. When you decide on the room depending on the number of 'irate senators,' call me." With that, Snotzenexer stepped into the lift and was whisked away to prepare another miracle.
* * *
Senator Robbert looked at the information that came up on his screen. He was seated along with about 30 other senators in a small assembly room. Each senator had his own data module and President Snotzenexer was busy loading some information into the room's main data net so each senator could pull up a copy of the report.
They were all here because they were very concerned about their home planet's future. Robbert did not know all of the senators in the room well and knew even less about their respective planets. He assumed they all hailed from agricultural planets because that was why his planet was concerned.
Snotzenexer had just liberated the planet of Veck, the largest producer of grain in the known galaxy, while that planet had been held prisoner by Captain Zeth, the rest of the grain producing planets had flourished. Now it appeared that in a year or so, the boom would return to mediocrity. That alone was not enough to get these planets fired up, though. Every market had its ups and downs. The problem now was that with all of the improvements in farming technique that had occurred under the Empire's and then Zeth's occupation of the planet, Veck produced too much grain.
Many planets feared their governments would find out that it would be much cheaper to buy grain from Veck than to buy it from the farmers on their own planet. Before each planet had controlled its own trade routes and tariff systems. Now that Snotzenexer had set up another trade federation that had influence over every Republic planet, those taxes and tariffs were all pre set. Before when there had been a surplus of grain, the farmers had influenced the traders from their planet to tax outside grain heavily so their government would be forced to buy from their own farmers.
Even though one of the sources of this problem arose because of the new trade federation Snotzenexer had set in place, no one wanted to remove the trading system. The system brought a huge reduction in taxes and organized everything a lot better than it had been. The main problem was in the fact that there was simply a surplus of grain. This problem arose because the people of Veck were now free to trade with anyone, yet no moral person wanted to see Zeth put back in charge.
Robbert understood his people were upset at the change of events, but there was really nothing they could ask Snotzenexer to do to change them. Yet, here they were, 30 senators from 30 planets all of which had farmers that were planning to sell their farms before they went bankrupt, and Snotzenexer proclaimed he had a solution. Robbert's computer was done downloading the information and he began reading it.
"During the middle years of the Old Republic, scouts discovered the Vratix on their vegetative home-world, Thyferra, in the Polith system. The Vratix had achieved an information-age technology, colonizing Thyferra's moon and establishing small outposts throughout their system. They possessed a planet-wide government, from which local tribes annually elected delegates to serve in a representative council. Every two years, the council appointed two "canirs" or chief officers to direct the council and act as world leaders.
"Once new technical knowledge was revealed by the Old Republic scouts and subsequent diplomats and visitors, the Vratix went into a technological frenzy. They constructed advanced star vehicles, made huge breakthroughs in science, and finally developed one of the most significant accomplishments the science of medicine had ever known: bacta. By placing small bacterial particles of alazhi, a lotion Vratix use to heal cuts and burns, in a special liquid chemical, kavam, they created bacta. The bacta at first would quickly sour, becoming ineffective, but by circulating it through a regulating tank with a clear synthetic fluid similar to the body's own vital fluids, the bacta would last for an indefinite time.
"The healing results were simply amazing. Rejuvenation tanks with bacta have been an integral part of the medical scene ever since. Vratix bacta-harvesting companies arose with the arrival of this new technology. The Xucphra and Zaltin are the two main companies that control society and create a great deal of societal strife for the Vratix because of loyalties.
"The galactic population was eager to have this miracle cure. Money was made and deals were struck, but the lowly Vratix traders who started it were crushed in corporate competition. The original bacta commercial wars expanded the power of the Vratix and stretched their influence over many planets and systems. Kavam could be easily synthesized, but the bacterial particles of alazhi needed an ideal tropical environment with the correct chemical atmosphere to grow. Alazhi in ecologically controlled rooms was easily contaminated by small particles even with high-level technology, and could not be grown on the large scale needed for corporate profit. A whole world was needed to maintain the balances and make harvesting economically feasible.
"To solve this problem, the Vratix entrepreneurs colonized many planets searching for such an environment. They found some suitable planets, but the planets were scattered about the galaxy. Unable to maintain a domineering presence on all the planets, the entrepreneurs contracted and divided their cultivation out among smaller, more local businesses and farmers, each supervised by a few corporate subordinates. The harvesters would sell the entrepreneurs all their harvested alazhi as part of their contracts leasing harvest land. Since the components could now be easily synthesized and grown, bacta became a universal commodity.
"The two major bacta-producing corporations, Zaltin and Xucphra, each made agreements with the Imperial factions, offering them an annual supply of bacta to sustain the Imperial military. In return, the Empire did little to suppress the bacta trade for the two corporations, only initiating a few modest tariffs and taxes. But the bargains also fabricated a virtual monopoly over bacta harvesting for the two companies, prohibiting all other bacta cultivators.
"This ended the bacta commercial wars and drove many small bacta traders underground. The Vratix companies only produce the bacta fluid, using either their allied Vratix work tribes or licensed harvesters. Other enterprises throughout the galaxy package the bacta, distribute it, and made the actual rejuvenation tanks and medical equipment.
"All organizations and tribes under the service of Zaltin or Xucphra are strictly watched and directed. Every batch of manufactured bacta has an identification number. This makes supervising and tracking easier, in cases of business trouble, Rebel entanglements, or bacta contamination. The numbers and batches are so thoroughly checked and inspected by the Vratix companies that it led to the uncovering of the Rebel base at Ketal. Xucphra promptly informed the Empire, and the base was destroyed.
"As the two major companies control the Vratix's home-world, there exists malcontents. The Ashern (Vratix for "Black Claw") are the most prominent terrorist circle in Vratix society, fighting for the downfall of the companies and a better nationalistic government. They paint themselves black and sharpen their angular spikes to symbolize the pains and frustrations of the average Vratix bacta laborer.
"The Ashern are also responsible for bacta contaminations - and one that even affected Coruscant. They used stolen corporate funds to bribe a sympathetic Imperial Moff, Kyl Ransen, to allow Ashern terrorists access to a shipment of bacta, ready to be transported to Coruscant. They tainted the bacta with an unusually resistant virus strain that would make a person allergic to bacta. The ploy worked, and almost two million soldiers and citizens were infected before the bacta was withdrawn. The Empire was outraged, but it could do little than require the bacta companies to tighten their regulations and protect the bacta shipments. Ransen went into hiding and is regarded by many Vratix nationalists as a great hero.
"Shortly after the Imperial government was removed from Coruscant, Zaltin and Xucphra offered the same exclusive deal to the New Republic. It was rumored that some shipments of bacta still found their way to the remnants of the Empire, but all accusations were denied vehemently by the two corporations.
"The demand for bacta increases every year, even with the occasional problems. Zaltin and Xucphra keep a good track of their bacta shipments, so militant rebel groups, must seek and purchase their supplies from smugglers or corrupt businessmen. Bacta is an item that helps the whole galaxy. Though it may have caused discord and hardship for the Vratix, it has also improved the quality of medical care throughout the galaxy."
Robbert finished reading quickly and watched the other senators for their reaction to the document. Some raised their eyebrows, while others' horns turned a dim shade of blue. One senator's eyestalk almost tied itself in a knot at the report. Robbert to had to admit it was a bit out of place. What did the history of bacta have to do with this grain surplus?
Snotzenexer was watching the senators as they read (or assimilated in some fashion, depending on race) the information. Robbert also looked for his reaction to the senators' reaction. As always, the president's expression was deadpan. Robbert knew the president's reputation as a mental giant and desperately wished to know what was churning through that mind right now.
Finally all the senators had finished and looked expectantly at their president. "I thought since the freeing of one enslaved people started this little financial dilemma we're in, the freeing of another people might end it."
"I assume you are talking about the Vratix," one senator spoke up, a little uneasiness in his voice. "I assure you, they are not enslaved. When the deal was struck with the New Republic almost 25 years ago, one of the particulars was that Xucphra and Zaltin cease and desist any activity that could be deemed immoral by the New Republic. The Vratix are no more mistreated than any other population supporting a huge corporation."
Snotzenexer looked at the senator, Reginoll by name. The former admiral had done his research as always and knew this man would be a tough sell. In fact, Snotzenexer had figured he would not be able to convince this man at all. Theonic Reginoll came from the planet of Janik, a relatively small planet in the scope of things, but home to a very powerful man. Norric Harmeon was the president of the Xucphra Corporation, the larger of the two bacta companies. Harmeon controlled almost everything that happened on Janik, and several other things in the small planet's sector. Outside of that and the bacta franchise, he had little power. Still, Reginoll could not have been appointed senator from Janik without Harmeon's approval.
Snotzenexer smiled at the senator, realizing he was going to make some enemies in the next year, but you can't please everyone all of the time. "The Vratix might not be enslaved physically, but then neither were the Veckorians. Zeth did not use a whip to suppress the oppressed farmers. He didn't limit their rations. If anything he increased them. Zeth held them in financial slavery, just as Xucphra and Zaltin hold the Vratix. If there was a patent on bacta it would belong to the Vratix. If anyone should make money off the selling of bacta it should be the Vratix. Instead they are subjected to mere servanthood as their planet has been turned into a giant factory."
Reginoll smiled back at the president, thinking him a fool suggesting what he was. "You will never be able to destroy the bacta corporations without going to war with them. They control over 15 different planets scattered all over the galaxy. The senate will not allow any military operation of that size."
"You misunderstand my intentions," Snotzenexer replied. "I do not want to go to war," though I think I will, he thought privately, "I simply want to end Xucphra's and Zaltin's monopoly on bacta. Monopolies are not illegal but, as I'm sure you know, are not only unethical, but also bad for financial prosperity. As many of you are aware," he said now to the whole audience, "the main reason I was appointed president of the Republic is to restore financial prosperity to the galaxy.
"What I am proposing is the creation of a new organization within the Republic for the distribution bacta and other medical equipment. Right now bacta is only available to the military through the two main corporations. I want us to live in a galaxy where the most advanced medicine is available to every citizen in the Republic."
"Bacta is way too expensive for that," Reginoll scoffed.
"That is why I plan to increase the supply to meet the demand. We have 30 worlds represented right here with farmers that will have an almost useless crop in about a year when the price negotiations between the trade federation and Veck are finalized. I am giving them the opportunity to get in on a crop that will produce them more money than they could have possibly imagined."
Reginoll almost laughed out loud. "Did you not even read the report you gave us? The bacteria alazhi can not be grown on just any planet. Why do you think there are only about 15 planets in the entire galaxy growing this bacteria? You need the perfect jungle atmosphere. Artificial environments have been thoroughly exhausted to the point where Xucphra and Zaltin have resigned to being content with 15 planets."
This comment brought quite a few harsh whispers from the seated senators. Robbert looked at Reginoll in amazement. Was the man an idiot? That problem was so obvious that if he thought for a moment Snotzenexer had not himself thought of it, the man should be thrown out of the senate immediately.
"I agree with you," Snotzenexer replied. "Over 300 years ago when bacta was first discovered, the best greenhouse in the world couldn't simulate the environment. The most resent attempts at a simulated bacta farm 60 years ago also failed miserably. In fact as recently as five years ago the technology didn't exist for such an endeavor, but four years ago, the Republic's science and exploration division teamed up with a shield generator producer to attempt a domed mining expedition on a toxic planet. The artificial atmosphere they created underneath the energy dome was one hundred percent stable even during one of the planet's violent storms."
"This new energy shield might work, but it might not," Reginoll said, though he was much deflated already guessing that Snotzenexer knew it would work.
"Actually, the Republic lent the technology to one of the underground bacta dealers it had been aquatinted with during the rebellion. It has worked now for three years without a glitch."
"I haven't seen this new shield anywhere," a new senator spoke up.
"The shield generator producer, Custom Shields Galactica, has not advertised it because it is not a commercial product and is very expensive to construct."
This comment brought a lot of commotion from the senators. Snotzenexer raised his hands and asked for silence. "I know what you may be thinking. 'How will my farmers be able to afford such a piece of machinery?' If the senate passes my proposal for the creation of a health and drug administration division within the Republic, then the Varion Imperial Bank, of which I am still the head, plans to invest an extraordinary sum in Custom Shields Galactica.
"I have talked with the head of that company, and he as told me the sum he would require to create a separate division for the sole purpose of producing this new advanced shield. Though the sum is astronomical, if the rest of the galaxy continues to mimic my every stock trade, as they have in the past, the head of that company may well receive ten times the sum he is looking for. With a separate division enabling mass production of the shield, the price should be cut by three fourths.
"Any farmer who is still not able to purchase the device will be able to receive a loan from my bank at a very low interest rate if the money is used toward the purchase of a shield."
"You are aware that Xucphra and Zaltin will halt their production of bacta to us," Reginoll spoke for the last time.
"I doubt it," Snotzenexer replied, enjoying nailing this arrogant senator. "Who would they sell to? No, they will continue to sell bacta to our military because no one else can absorb their production rate. Besides, the Republic will make no move against either company. I plan to form a health and drug administration, and that will be the extent of the Republic's involvement in the situation. The Varion Imperial Bank will invest money in Custom Shields Galactica and grant loans, but the Republic's association with the bank is as a subsidiary and not otherwise.
"Of course if either bacta company makes a move against one of the Republic's member farmers trying to grow bacta, the government will protect its citizens. As far as the Republic is concerned, Xucphra and Zaltin can continue their bacta production. As I said, it will be the goal of the Republic's health and drug administration to acquire as much bacta as it can to distribute amongst the population as it sees fit."
The senators, save one, enjoyed what they were hearing. "Like I said before, the Republic does not wish to make a public stand against the two bacta power houses unless they provoke us, so it will be up to you to let your people know about the opportunity they have to save their farms. It is foolish of us to think only 30 worlds will be affected by the surplus in grain. I'd personally be surprised if there were a hundred planets that won't be. Every agricultural market has obviously not interpreted the happenings on Veck yet, but they will be. Talk to your fellow senators and tell them about this endeavor.
"I am speaking as an investor as I tell you about this opportunity, but as the President of the Republic, I'm telling you that if you don't use this opportunity to save your farms and can't think of another way, because I'm sure there are others, the Republic can not bail out trillions of bankrupt farmers."
There was nothing but smiling faces in amongst the 30 senators. Well almost nothing but. Reginoll was not looking forward to talking with Harmeon of the Xucphra Company. Robbert was also looking concerned. "President," he spoke up above the din.
Snotzenexer called for silence, having expected this interruption from the bright young senator from a small planet. "President, this solution you have put forward will surely help all of the large farms survive this grain surplus, but my planet is made up of mostly small farms designed to grow food for their local province and no more. While you might supply them with a loan, as you said, they simply do not have the field space to make such an investment feasible."
"You are quite right senator," Snotzenexer replied, the rest of the senators quieting down to see how the president would handle this. "Bacta is not the only medical supply that this new administration will pay good money for. I have a few medical advisors who can provide you with a list of different pharmisuticals that will be in high demand and the plants from which they originate. I have looked at the list briefly, but am not of a biological mind set and can not recall it for you, though I can assure you, there are a few different plants that will be very inexpensive for small farmers to grow while remaining very profitable."
This last addition to the meeting pleased everyone. Once Robbert had brought up the concern, the rest of the senators realized they had many small farms on their worlds also. Snotzenexer looked for Reginoll at the end of the meeting, but the worried senator had already scampered out of the chamber, no doubt running to the nearest communication center.
* * *
The meal was fish and salad. Thomas apologized for not having any dressing for the salad or sauce for the fish. Luke laughed at his ludicrous apologies, easily forgiving him. Thomas made up for it, though, by producing a bottle of wine for after dinner.
"Wine?" Luke gasped. "Where on Hoth did you get that?"
"I made it, just like everything else," Thomas said simply, pouring Luke a hefty helping of the bubbling liquid. "They have been making wine since before people had electricity. It doesn't require much work, just the right ingredients and a lot of patience, which is something I have quite a bit of."
"But the glass bottle," Luke said, pointing at the transparent bottle.
Thomas picked it up and threw it across the cave for Luke to examine. The throw was awful, and if Luke didn't do anything about it it would shatter against the cave wall. He easily brought the throw under control and guided the bottle to his hand. "Stupid Jedi," Thomas complained. "I wanted it to hit the wall."
"Why?"
"To show you it wasn't glass. Go ahead, bang it against something. I have over 200 more of those things. I make about three a week."
Luke moved some of the animal skins off his chair so he had exposed stone and tentatively tapped the bottle against the rock. The hollow bottle rebounded uninjured. He hit it a little harder, and finally brought it down as hard as he could without the Force. The bottle remained intact. "So what is it?" Luke asked, truly amazed.
"I have no idea," Thomas responded, "but it's the only reason I have survived as long as I have. It is some type of transparent metal, but also has several qualities of a crystal. Its reflecting capabilities are incredible, and it has a very impressive strength."
"Is that what you made your sword out of?" Luke asked, remembering the translucent weapon.
With out speaking, Thomas brought the weapon out again and tossed it more carefully at the Jedi. Luke caught it, testing its balance. He stood up and went through a few parrying routines. It was a little heavy, but if used consistently, its user would learn to compensate. "Impressive," he finally said, taking time to examine the blade. Luke was of course used to using a weightless weapon made of pure light and energy, but he could recognize the quality of the other weapons.
Luke walked the weapon back to its creator, not caring to test the man's catching ability. "You're not wearing a neck band," Luke noticed for the first time. "Were you a lucky one or did you find a way to remove it?"
"There is a story involved," Thomas said, motioning Luke back to his chair. "It will probably answer just about every question you have about this place and maybe a few that you haven't thought of."
Luke took his seat and tasted the wine he had been given for the first time. It was very good. There was some type of fruit mix in it that Luke couldn't identify, but it was very sweet with the liquid tracing a hot path down his throat. "Feel free to finish the bottle, if you like," Thomas offered. "Like I said, I have a ton of it in storage, and the nights can get cold." Luke drained the rest of his glass, poured another, and sat back to listen to Thomas's story.
Thomas had been dropped off on the planet during the warm season (if you could call it that) somewhere south of the cave, but still north of the equator. He had been given a much thicker coat than Luke had with a month's supply of rations, a blaster rifle, six power packs, and a compass. He had a neckband on and was warned there was also a tracking device that had been injected into him and an orbiting satellite that would open fire on him if the band was ever removed.
The band's purpose was to track him from anywhere in the galaxy. It was impossible to make an injectable tracer strong enough to send a signal any further than out into orbit. At night, Thomas could see the satellite. It didn't orbit the planet, but used thrusters to stay exactly over-top of the prisoner. There was a bomb in the neckband, but Thomas had disarmed that easily by punching a hole in the explosive and pouring water in the hollow section. When the water froze, it expanded, breaking apart the bomb. It wasn't until he discovered the transparent metal material that he thought of a way to get rid of the satellite.
There were several caves that Thomas lived in before his current abode. In one of them he found a piece of metal encased in ice. He was curious about it and tried to break through the ice with a crude stone hammer he had constructed. It wasn't ice, and he had no luck. When he tried to melt it with his blaster, he nearly took his head off when the bolt reflected back at him.
Thomas finally found out how to use the stuff one night when it was bitter cold. The material became so brittle that Thomas was able to chisel it quite easily. The metal crumbled into a powder substance. Using some crude powder metallurgy techniques, he was able to form the stuff into anything he wanted.
On the next cold night, Thomas had smashed as much of the stuff as he could find, storing the powder in hide sacks. When he realized how effective it was at reflecting energy bolts, he came up with a plan. He formed a large plate three meters square of the material and brought it up to a peak right across the valley of his present cave. The cave hadn't been there yet, but was about to be created.
Thomas waited for night, so he could judge where the satellite was. He propped the large plate up on two rock supports. He angled the plate so it aimed at the base of the mountain across the valley. He then positioned himself behind the plate and proceeded to remove the collar.
As soon as the collar was off, the satellite rained turbo laser fire down on him. The probe was programmed to fire until the injected chip was destroyed, or more crudely, when Thomas was blown to bits. The probe fired about once every five seconds, and the bolts were reflected across the valley into the base of the mountain. The noise was incredible, bringing every living creature within range of the display out to watch.
Thomas had been bothered little by the predators of Hoth, but after this display, every semi-intelligent being thought this human to be some sort of fire god, summoning fire from heaven. Thomas dared to peak around the plate between shots and saw that the shots were forming a pretty impressive cave across the valley.
Soon the explosions from the base of the mountain became more subdued as the blasts drilled deeper and deeper into much more stable rock. The procedure lasted about six hours. After six hours, the shots started to come less frequently. The goal had been to drain the battery of the probe during the night so it didn't have any chance to recharge in the sunlight.
After about six and a half hours, the shots stopped all together. Thomas watched from behind his protective shield as the energy depleted probe could no longer hold its position above the planet and was drawn toward the surface by gravity. It crashed about three kilometers away.
Thomas was able to salvage a lot of raw material from the crash, but the real find was the cave that had been formed. The bolts had drilled deep into the mountain, offering far more shelter than any of the shallow caves Thomas had lived in before. The major bonus was that during the six and a half hours, the turbo lasers had drilled almost all the way to the center of the planet, bringing up an awful lot of heat. Snow had filled the deep hole and soon melted.
The one problem with the cave was that it had a huge door. Thomas spent several weeks closing the cave from the outside with landslides and crude masonry that used ice as mortar. The rest of his modifications to the cave came slowly.
At the equator, there was a month thaw in which some small wooden shoots grew and several other plants sprouted briefly. He had transplanted as many different plants as he could into his own little garden. The soil was made from dirt and wampa droppings. The fish he had collected over time and they had thrived in the warm water, giving him a never-ending supply of food. He hunted occasionally, and the meat from one wampa or tauntaun would last him a month.
Luke absorbed this story without speaking. At the end of it all, Luke noticed he had finished the entire bottle of wine and was getting sleepy. Thomas noticed this also. "I haven't finished your bed yet, but you might find it adequate. Otherwise, you might be able to finish it yourself."
Luke got up shaking some of the alcohol out of his head and stabilizing himself before making it over to his bed. He summoned the tool Thomas had been using earlier and examined the bed. It was deep enough to hold him, but that was if he wanted to sleep on hard stone. He felt the rock with his hand and sensed the rock structure and where the fracture lines were. Seven hard cracks with the tool, and Luke had added a dozen more centimeters to the bed's depth. There was a pile of hides next to the bed and Luke put them in. Ten minutes later the Jedi Master was fast asleep.
* * *
Thomas awoke to find his resident Jedi Master sitting cross-legged on the floor with his eyes screwed shut. Curious but respectful, the former Imperial captain watched the motionless Jedi for ten minutes before Luke stirred. He blinked his eyes several times and looked around the room, appearing to have momentarily forgotten where he was.
"Good morning, Luke," Thomas said and handed his guest a cup of hot something-or-other.
Luke looked at it momentarily, but Thomas hadn't poisoned him yet. As he drank it Thomas told him what it was. "It's just roots that I boiled in water. I guess I've tried to eat or drink everything on this planet. The result isn't exactly what you're probably used to, but there is definitely caffeine in the root."
Luke didn't think the drink offered too much flavor, but Thomas was right, it certainly woke you up. Luke got off the floor and made his way to the table. Thomas was beginning to prepare some seasoned sausage and bacon, both taken from the same animal by the looks of them. "I don't mind feeding an extra mouth," Thomas began, "but it does mean that we are going to have to expand my garden and maybe the fish pond."
"There may not be a need," Luke said, taking another sip from his cup. "I just got finished talking with my sister. She tells me one of my friends on the outside is organizing a little rescue mission. She couldn't give me the details because she doesn't know them herself, but the person organizing it is trust-worthy."
"Well if you're going to escape, you might want to do something about that collar of yours."
Luke touched the collar and remembered that he also had some kind of homing beacon inside him. He reached out with his mind and found the satellite above him, waiting to fire down and destroy him if he removed the collar. Luke began tugging on the satellite, testing to see how strong its position stabilizers were. Luke tugged and it tugged back. Luke leaned into it a little harder and could feel the stabilizers straining to keep the suddenly heavy satellite out of the atmosphere. Luke removed all his mental safeties and pulled with more Force strength than he'd exerted in a very long time. The satellite couldn't stand up to that and it began to loose altitude quickly.
Luke could feel the doomed machine begin to burn up and the stabilizers fried themselves into malfunction. Luke let go of the satellite, allowing gravity do the rest of the work for him. He only checked it periodically to make sure it wouldn't land near their humble abode.
Thomas heard the crash and explosion and looked up from his cooking. "What was that?"
"That," Luke began as he undid the lock on his neck collar, "was the last I'll have to worry about the Empire's security measures. After breakfast we can go check the wreckage to see if we can salvage anything."
Interlude II
He was dead.
This was just something he had to accept. Just the fact that he could accept it, or that he could realize he had to, denied the reality of his position. How could a dead man think or realize things? Obviously his idea of death had to be rearranged slightly. He was definitely without a body - that much had been made painfully obvious to him during his awakening. He was without a body, but his mind still seemed to function, even though it was a different feeling than he was familiar with. Before, his mind had mainly been responding to stimuli that his senses registered. Now there were no stimuli, only thought.
Jacen Solo needed guidance.
Anakin Skywalker, formerly Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, had watched his grandson enter this existence and had held back any influence on the situation. Everyone who passed from the physical world needed to deal with the sensation of their new predicament on their own. Without coming to their own realizations, they would forever be lost, dependent on someone else for information. Now, though, Jacen had fully woken to his situation and assistance was allowed, in fact, it was highly suggested.
Jacen was no longer alone.
The feeling was something new to the dead Jedi. Normally when someone approached him, he would hear the footsteps, feel the draft of their presence, see a shadow flutter. All of these things coupled with his Force sensitivity told him of others' presence. Now he merely felt no longer alone. He was no longer lost in depression or drowned in his recent flood of revelations. The question was "Who was with him?"
"Jacen."
The recently deceased obviously did not hear the voice, but he had participated in enough Force enhanced communications with his sister that he knew what was happening and how he "heard" the "voice."
"Yes," he responded tentatively.
"Your union with us was expected."
What kind of hello was that? Shouldn't whoever this was be consoling him on his resent passage from the physical plane of existence. People don't look into a coffin at a funeral, smirk, and nod their heads saying, "I told you he wasn't going to make it to his 26th birthday."
"Who are you?"
"Do you know why you died, Jacen Solo?"
Jacen thought about this briefly. This being didn't seem like he was trying to be secretive, only that he had his own agenda in this meeting at didn't want to waiver.
"Human flesh does not stand up that well to a lightsaber," Jacen responded, gaining a little confidence in his situation. What was the guy going to do, kill him? Besides, Jacen planed on being uncooperative until the man explained a little.
"I am your grandfather."
Jacen was shocked. The revelation meshed too evenly with his thoughts to be a coincidence. If this being claiming to be Anakin Skywalker, for Jacen knew nothing of his father's parents, could read his every thought, then conversation seemed useless.
"Why am I here?" Jacen responded, deciding to play a little more humble role in this encounter.
"Apparently," the being said slowly, "human flesh doesn't stand up that well to a lightsaber."
"Anakin, give the boy a break."
"Yes, much has he been through, and much he will yet have to endure."
These two other "voices" were different than the one he was currently conversing with. Jacen didn't bother asking who they were, but searched his feelings and the Force for answers. Obi-Wan and Yoda were with him, and, yes, it was his grandfather.
"Jacen," it was Obi-Wan, "it is true that we have been expecting you for some time, but that does not mean that we regret to see you here. Your destiny, as every Jedi's destiny dictates, was supposed to take you much further along the road of life, allowing you to accomplish many great things."
"Listen to your teachers, you did not," Yoda put in. "Warn you of your recklessness they did, and of your temper. Killed you it did, and sent you here far before you time."
"The man who killed you was not evil," Anakin explained. "He was surely guilty of what you accused him, but he had no bad intentions. He had been hired by the Empire without any knowledge of the atrocities they were performing. He had flat out told them he did not want to kill anyone and didn't want to start a war. He was hired to perform a job and was promised good pay. He had been neutral and if the Republic had approached him first, he would have been your ally. Where would I be if your uncle hadn't looked past my black suit and into my soul to determine my true nature? Instead you simply looked for something to lash out against and this man was the first thing that presented itself to you."
"Control you must learn," Yoda was speaking again, "control and discipline."
"Your focus must stay on the here and now, not looking into the past or a perceived future," Obi-Wan informed. "You have spent your life either striving for a goal that was so far in the future, or repaying a debt so far in the past, that you have never been able to appreciate your current situation."
Jacen took the advice stoically. He had heard this all before, as Yoda had pointed out, but he had never seen the urgency. Of course, he had never died before. He had jumped into a lot of other things that his teachers had told him he wasn't ready for but he had always succeeded, and in his way of thinking, that meant he had been right in doing what he had. Now he saw he had just been playing sabacc with his life. In the past he had out-played his opponents but now finally came against a fool's array and had cashed in. The only question Jacen had was why they were telling him this now.
"It is never too late to learn," Anakin responded to Jacen's unasked question. Jacen begged to differ. "You might not now see the benefit of learning the answers after you have already failed the test, but your life is not over."
"You will still have influence over what happens in the physical realm," Obi-Wan explained. "You will be able to give advice to others. You will learn many more things in your existence here, things that you will be able to impart with those you left behind."
"You want me to haunt my friends?" Jacen could no longer keep his thoughts silent. "That might seem like a great idea to you, but you're not me. You guys all kicked off late in your life. I am 25 years old and haven't experienced a tenth of what I wanted to. Now I am faced with this," Jacen desperately wanted to spread his arms out to illustrate the void he was in, but he had no arms, "for how long? A thousand years? Two thousand? Eternity? I don't want to visit my sister in her dreams. I want to visit her by knocking on her door. What of my friends?" If Jacen had a throat it would be choking up now. "What about my family? When you guys died you were either living as hermits or had no friends, or both. I'm different. You guys even said I wasn't supposed to die yet. I had a lot of life to live and I still want to live it.
"Floating around in this void is not life. Life is a thing of beauty. An existence of sights and smells and tastes and sounds and feels so much more than this meager reality that it tears me apart to think of what I will be missing and what I will be denying my family by my absence."
"Think of this before you acted, you should have."
"Still, this knowledge can be useful."
"What," Jacen screamed in his mind, "so I can teach it to the students at the Academy. I can see it now, Uncle Luke creates a new class where everyone falls asleep and is taught by the great Jacen Solo. 'He speaks from beyond the grave, wise beyond his years.'"
"Someone much closer to you than that needs to hear you," Anakin said. "Someone who is struggling with the will to live. Someone, who unlike you, is struggling with the choice between this meager existence or the more prolific one you just explained in your recent tirade."
"Who?"
"You will know when the time comes."
The time came.
Chapter 11
"Space Battles"Wedge Antilles and Perry Tremon took their sweet time getting to the wayward space rocks. They had initially been heading toward Coruscant, which, although it was not in the opposite direction of the asteroids, made their trip much more roundabout than it needed to be. They also wanted to skirt the long-range sensors of the ships in the Denorid system, which made their route even longer. They finally got to a few of the asteroids about thirty hours after they had left - a trip that was at least six times longer than it had to be.
The rocks had flown past Trewist and Forinad in clusters, but now, after over two weeks of space flight, they had become very spread out. The result was an enormous net of asteroids that covered a huge amount of space. It wasn't dangerous to fly through in normal space with each rock separated from its nearest neighbor by at least a hundred klicks, but it would make a rather impressive natural interdiction field for passing hyperspace traffic.
Wedge had taken over the flying after they had left hyperspace, and he moved into range of one of the closest rocks. Wedge spent several minutes examining the asteroid with the sensors before he fired at it. Even the smallest rock in the sparse field was bigger than their ship and needed to be broken up in order to be tractored into the cargo hold. Wedge found minute cracks in the huge spinning rock and fired along those fault lines.
The asteroid exploded into uneven pieces, several of which came flying toward the Skipray Blastboat. These pieces reflected harmlessly off the shields, and stayed in the vicinity of the ship.
"Nice shot," Perry said as he entered the cockpit. He had been resting in the back but had gotten up when he felt the ship leave hyperspace.
"Let's see if I can't real in one of these pieces." Wedge managed with little difficulty to lock the tractor beam onto one of the smaller rocks and brought it toward the ship. After sealing off the cargo area, he opened the outer-doors and brought the rock into the hold.
Wedge had filled one of the two bags he had brought with him with sensor equipment, and he got that bag now as he headed for the cargo bay with Perry in toe. Wedge made sure the cargo bay was repressurized before he opened the door, and stepped up to the several ton rock sitting in the middle of the cargo hold.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Perry asked as he took a piece of electronic equipment from Wedge.
"If these asteroids were blown apart by gronst, there should be residue left on them. Plus, if they were instead blown apart by some type of detonation device there would also be some type of residue." Wedge dug around in his bag until he found the type of scanner he wanted. "I tried to fire along a fault line on the asteroid so it wouldn't only break where I fired. That way there should be no carbon scoring from ship fire unless it was put there when we blew these wretched things up back when we were trying to save Trewist and Denor."
After almost an hour of work they had found nothing. There was no foreign substance on the rock at all. Wedge slumped against the cold asteroid racking his brain, trying to think of some other way he could prove that these rocks had been deliberately sent at the Denorid system.
"Were not going to find any detonator residue unless we are lucky enough to get the piece the explosive was directly attached to," Perry said, voicing what Wedge was already realizing. "There might be another way though."
Wedge perked up at this, "What would that be?"
"You said that you thought these asteroids were placed on a collision course with the Denorid system intentionally. In order to do that, you would have to release the rocks from the cargo hold of a ship as it too was heading toward the Denorid system. This means that these rocks were loaded into a ship, say a Super Star Destroyer, and then released in the Danzig system on a path towards their targets. The asteroids could have been loaded into the ship somewhere else and only dumped in the Danzig system. In fact, if I was going to do it, I would definitely not try and gather the asteroids from the Danzig system, as volatile as it is."
"Of course," Wedge said, pushing himself away from the rock he had been leaning against. "Luke had gone to the Varion system because there were reports that Imperial ships were seen in an asteroid field."
"You know that each asteroid field is unique," Perry said, beginning to see there was hope. "They each have their own mineral make up and ore concentrations - kind of like DNA."
"We're breaking this rock up," Wedge announced, "then we'll be able to analyze its composition. Of course, we'll have to make a trip to the Varion system also to compare the two samples."
"We should also get another rock or two from here just to make sure we have a good sample. We might have just picked up a piece of rock that had a super concentration of calcium and iron. It is, after all, only a small part of a whole rock and not a good predictor of the norm."
The next hour involved the laborious work of chopping up the rock with special vibro blades so they could feed it into the ships onboard analyzer. The process was cut short when an alarm sounded from the cockpit.
"What's that?" Perry asked suddenly.
"Probably the proximity sensors," Wedge answered, not looking up from his work. "I set it up to notify us when we drifted too close to one of the other asteroids. Remember this field is still moving. I don't want to bounce around in it like a ball in an electro-paddle game. Could you go steer us clear?"
"Sure thing." Perry got up from his work and ran up to the cockpit. Twenty seconds later he yelled back at Wedge. "It's not an asteroid, Wedge," he informed the former admiral. "You better get up here fast!"
"Wha-" Wedge started, but figured it was important and ran after Perry to the cockpit. He had no idea how important it was until he saw the six ships flying toward them. "Pearson, that son of a rancor. How'd he find us?"
"It doesn't matter now," Perry said the obvious. "They're powering up their weapons, no sign of any attempts at communication yet."
"There won't be either," Wedge responded, displacing Perry from the pilot's seat. Perry settled into the copilot's seat and began angling the deflector shields. "We stole this ship, and they can claim that we opened fire first in their report to the senate as to how two high ranking military men were killed. Besides they know that we know their agenda is still pro-Empire so there is no need to pretend out here." The problem is, Wedge thought to himself, we are severely out gunned.
Wedge had no delusions of winning a fight with the six ships and turned to try and run. The interdictor ship was one step ahead of him and the faster vessel cut him off, erecting a interdiction field that was large enough make sure Wedge wouldn't be able to jump to hyperspace before he dealt with the other more heavily armed ships.
The three TIE Interceptors came screaming in at him, peppering the back of his ship with fire. "They're not going to be able to get through our shields very easily with those interceptors," Perry said.
"They won't have to," Wedge replied, "those other two ships are Skipray Blastboats. We won't be able to hit the nimble interceptors, while they will be able to keep our shields depleted so any shot from the blastboats will take us out."
"A well thought-out plan," Perry appreciated the strategy.
Wedge headed for a large asteroid, suddenly wishing that this field was a lot more densely packed. "See if you can tug on this asteroid a little as we swing past it."
Perry's fingers worked over the tractor beam and acquired a stable hold of the rock. The two blastboats were now on Wedge's trail and taking pot shots at his exposed rear. Wedge looped hard around the asteroid, using the tractor beam to pull the rock directly behind him and spinning wildly. The two trails didn't see the move coming and continued to fire madly at their prey. The asteroid swung into their line of fire and took six shots before the two Imperial blastboats broke off their pursuit.
Wedge had transferred most of his ship's momentum into the asteroid and had sent it spinning viciously. When it blew apart, pieces went flying sporadically over a large spread. The TIE's where flying perimeter routes, staying out of the way of the heavy blastboats. As Wedge had planned, they were in the most danger from the violent debris. Two of the three got lucky and avoided major contact, but the third took a five ton chunk square in its pod, blowing it into oblivion.
The remaining two interceptors were wary, and Wedge knew the same trick wouldn't work again. Instead he heard tone as both TIE's acquired a missile lock on his relatively motionless ship and fired. Wedge's blastboat had come almost to a standstill after transferring his momentum to the asteroid. He now punched the engine and flew into the remaining shrapnel from the destroyed asteroid. One of the two missiles bought it on a small piece of rock, but the other struck home on the back of the blastboat.
"Damage," Wedge asked as he concentrated on trying to get on one of the other blastboat's tail.
"Direct hit," Perry responded, "the shields in the back are almost gone and we've lost repulser stabilizers. No major hull damage, but if one of those blastboats hits us in the sore spot, we're done."
Wedge couldn't get a solid lock on his opponent, but noticed that the other blastboat had been able to pick him up easily enough. Of course, Wedge thought, they know each other's patterns and just let me get in the middle. Wedge couldn't afford to take another hit in the back and had to break off the chase. He pulled up and found himself flying right into the remaining two TIE's. "Forward deflectors!" Wedge screamed, but Perry had no time to adjust as the two interceptors got off three clean shots on them.
Wedge was able to angle back down and to the left, but he felt a large explosion in the forward section of the ship. "Please tell me that wasn't a turbo laser."
"Front-right turbo laser," Perry responded morosely. They still had two amidship and one front-left, but they both realized it was only a matter of time.
"Hey!" Perry sounded suddenly, "We have company. Light transport, maybe private yacht, I can't really tell. It just got yanked out of hyperspace by the interdictor or the asteroid field."
"Any idea who it is?" Wedge asked, hoping for some type of luck as he took two more hits from the TIE's on his side.
"Probably just a trader, or some type of lost pirate. I've never seen this sensor echo before. It's heavily modified whatever it is."
Wedge had a slight reprieve in his evasive maneuvers and hazarded a glance at the sensor read out. He did a severe double take, which cost him another minor hit on the very depleted shields. "That's Jade's Fire!" he screamed. "Mara Jade, I love you." Wedge paused a while as he corkscrewed out of another trap the two blastboats had set for him, leaving Perry in the dark for a short while. "Send that ship a distress message. Make sure to use my name. Use this encryption on a narrow bandwidth." Wedge took one of his hands off the flight yoke to punch up an encryption that he knew Mara used.
Mara ran into the cockpit when she felt her ship drop out of hyperspace. "What's going on?"
"We're flying through some type of asteroid field that isn't on the star charts," Ra'tok explained.
"What asteroid field," Mara asked, looking out of the cockpit into space. She could just now barely see the sparse spread of rocks. "This shouldn't have taken us out of hyperspace unless we were on a direct collision course," Mara complained. "I think I need to tweak the hyperdrive a little, you and Chewie must have wrecked it when you butchered my ship a few days ago."
Ra'tok ignored her sarcasm for the moment. "We were also flying through the edge of a small interdiction field." Ra'tok pointed to the display, but didn't need to as Mara had already picked up the small space battle on her own.
"I have a funny feeling . . ."
"We're getting a transmission from one of the Skipray Blastboats," Ra'tok informed Mara. He took a moment to read it. "Do you know anyone named Wedge Antilles?"
Mara forcibly removed the Defel from the pilot's seat (something Ra'tok wouldn't admit to later) and took control. She examined the situation from a distance and saw that the interdiction ship was just sitting still on the outskirts, making sure that Wedge didn't escape. Mara concentrated on the odd shaped ship for a while, picking out a weakness in the hull. The engine seemed partially exposed from Mara's vantagepoint. The Imperial ships as a whole didn't pay any attention to Mara's ship, figuring the unknown trader would just continue on their way, realizing that this was not their fight.
Mara closed her hands around her torpedo trigger and spent a few moments in full, close-eyed concentration. She let two missiles go in close succession. Since she had not obtained an electronic lock first, but merely fired with the Force, the unsuspecting interdiction freighter was taken totally by surprise as the first projectile stole the shields from the vulnerable location and the second one struck home. The explosion severed coolant hoses and evaporated fuel lines. The engine compartment ruptured violently. Convulsions rocked the ship and cracked the oxygen reserve tank, flooding the reactor with liquid oxygen. The interdiction freighter was consumed in a very impressive fireball that quickly died in the unrelenting vacuum of space.
The explosion got the attention of all the ships in the area. Wedge was surprised by the explosion but knew immediately why it had happened. The Imperials, on the other hand, were dumbstruck for several seconds. They had to reason out why a random ship yanked out of hyperspace would simply jump into a deadly fray such as this. Wedge took this opportunity to rid the area of another one of the TIE Interceptors.
This second explosion brought the Imps back to reality and they realized that they now had two ships to battle. Jade's Fire had fresh batteries with the best armaments and shielding this side of the Millennium Falcon. One of the Skipray's decided to take care of this unknown assassin. It flew head on toward Mara, guns blasting. Mara had added a special feature to her front shields for just this type of confrontation. While most shield configurations form a semi-spherical bubble, Mara had installed a feature that allowed her to elongate the front of her shield, giving it an aerodynamic look. The result was that the shields were able to deflect the majority of head-on fire, absorbing very little of it.
Mara fired another torpedo, again without a lock, covering up the projectile with a volley of her own laser fire. The blastboat was awed at his opponent's audacity in not turning out of the head-on run after the initial volley. Surely no ship can go head on with a Skipray Blastboat. This thought kept the pilot from pulling out in time to avoid the volley of laser fire, trading the hits on full shields for the opportunity to release another of his own volleys at the intruder. Then the torpedo hit the depleted shields. Suddenly the blastboat was without forward stabilizers, and its second volley went wildly low as Mara pulled up out of the chicken run.
The crippled ship tried to pull up and follow Mara, but it only managed to bring itself back level as Mara came down from above, raining more laser fire and yet another torpedo. The ship had no stabilizers now and merely wafted listlessly in space. Mara ignored it, seeing that it was still undergoing inner convulsions and would probably explode in a couple seconds. It did just that as Wedge hit it with his own volley from below.
Wedge had a tail as he flew up underneath the doomed blastboat, and the exploding ship shielded that tail from seeing Mara's ship come off of her last run. Jade's Fire was able to strafe the blastboat's broad side as it pulled away from the explosion. The Imperial ship tried to corkscrew out of the line of fire and found Wedge's three still operating laser cannons at point blank range. The ship lost all stability under the fire and flew into one of the asteroids that hovered nearby.
The remaining TIE Interceptor saw that it was now pathetically out-gunned, and made a run to edge of the asteroid field, knowing that it could outrun Wedge and hoping that this other new ship didn't have any special engine modifications. It did. Mara caught up with the last ship and wasted him before he had a chance to send out a transmission to Pearson.
"Mara you have no idea how much I want to thank-you."
Mara looked at Wedge's beat-up ship, "No, but I could probably take a good guess. What brings you out here?"
"Are you aware of the galactic situation?" Wedge asked back.
"If you mean that Snotzenexer, former Imperial admiral, is now president of the Republic, yes I do. I also know that everyone who had some type of power, authority, or respect in the old system has been removed or eliminated. I guess that explains why you were being attacked, but not why you're out here."
"These asteroids around us are the remnants of the meteor shower that hit the Denorid system two or so weeks ago. We think that they were artificially put on a collision course with the planets of the Denorid system."
Mara thought about this for a while and an idea dawned on her. "You know that the system where Snotzenexer and his female admiral friend hale had a rather large asteroid field."
"The Varion system, yes, we figured the same thing. We were trying to get the general mineral composition of these asteroids and compare them with the ones in the Varion system. This of course requires a trip out there, unless you can give us some information. You were out there recently, weren't you?"
"Yea, but I can't really help you out, I was on a planet most of the time."
"Well, what are you doing out here?"
"I'm looking for the youngest of the Solo children. Do you know where I could find Anakin?"
Wedge thought for a while. "He's probably around the planet of Forinad. He and some other Jedi are trying to save that planet, but I don't think they're going to make it. Be careful though. Commander Pearson, formally of the Imperial Navy, is in command of the relief effort and don't be surprised if he gives you a hard time."
"I've spoken to him already. He gave me the run around when I asked to talk to Anakin. Wedge, before you head off to the Varion system, touch base with Yavin IV. That is our headquarters right now. It would be good if you could let Leia know you're okay and kind let everyone know where you're going in case we need to contact you."
"Headquarters? You're beginning to sound like Leia during the rebellion."
"It may come down to that eventually."
The two allies spoke a little while longer, wished each other luck, and then Mara left.
* * *
Jon Poncho, Vince Trimpo, and Bep Fritz were standing by the three Imperial TIE's: a bomber, interceptor and fighter. Each had their arms crossed over their chests and trying to look just a little taller than they already were. Victor Porcelian was just exiting the turbolift into the 185th's dungeon. Admiral Sanson was walking behind the new Imperial ace, smiling broadly.
Victor was not that intimidating, Vince saw immediately. The man was barely taller than the admiral and didn't appear to have one muscle on him. Vince disliked him right away. Jon had told his two friends how this pilot had won and they had unanimously decided that in real space, this pilot wouldn't last five minutes. He had obvious skill, there could be no denying that, but Vince was willing to bet that he had never seen combat. Until you experience a situation where more fighters leave the hangar then come back, you don't know what it's like to fly.
Victor walked right up to Jon, having been told against whom he had flown. "It was a pretty cheap victory, I know," Victor said. "The admiral here tells me that I can fly one of these things now, right?"
Sanson looked at Bep, redirecting the question at the trio's computer genius. "I've programmed all of the modifications into the simulator," Bep said.
"Why don't you tell me everything you've done?" Sanson asked, still not believing that these pilots would have actually improved the ships for the Empire.
"Well for starters," Vince began, "the hyperspace booster that you put in these babies was very crude. It could only be used as an accelerator before. Now we have installed a small nav computer. The ship still doesn't have hyperspace capability, but you can program your jumps ahead of time, instead of always having to go straight ahead."
"We weren't able to link the laser cannons directly to the engine like in our ships," Bep reported, "but we were able create a bypass switch on the laser batteries. The pilot can activate the bypass from the cockpit and the power from the engine will skip the laser battery and go directly into the cannons. This will allow you unlimited fire as long as the bypass is enabled."
"We also installed a tractor beam," Jon added, wanting to sound involved.
"What about the shields?" Sanson asked.
"What about them?" Bep replied. "They work. Your techs installed them and they operate as well as can be expected. They aren't as strong as they could be, but you are working with twin ion engines for a power supply, so don't expect too much."
Sanson nodded, still not sure that they had done all they bragged to have done, but she would see soon enough.
"How about linking the automatic pilot to the tractor beam?" Victor spoke up for the first time.
"What?" Vince asked. "Why would we want to do that?"
"It is required for a little maneuver I enjoy."
"Can you do it?" Sanson asked.
"Sure, I guess," Bep replied, making it known that he couldn't imagine why anyone would want such a thing.
"Do it," Sanson ordered. "I want the ability programmed into the simulator, and then Jon and our new friend Victor will have round two."
As the admiral and her new favorite pet were leaving, Jon turned to Bep. "You have my W-wing programmed in, right?"
Bep nodded slowly, smiling as he did. The new recruit didn't stand a chance.
* * *
The fighters were facing each other, starting this battle the same way that every other battle had begun. There was a difference to this battle, though. Each of the combatants were so intense that any normal joking that either of the young men might have been used to dispersing during other situations was totally forgotten.
The opening flurry of battle went much like a fencing match. Both pilots tested the limits the simulator allowed their nimble crafts, weaving in and out of each other's path and taking pot shots that did no real damage. Jon was amazed at Victor's ability immediately.
Normally a pilot's skill at flying a ship had very little to do with the outcome. When a sword fighter squares off against an opponent he is able to execute any maneuver he desires without the concern of a blown muscle or running out of energy. The physical body is a far better machine than a fighter is. A pilot is constantly faced with the limitations of his craft and the more advanced fighter, as opposed to the better pilot, usually emerges victorious.
The difference comes when the pilot realizes the limitations of his craft and instead of trying new move after new move begins to try and understand his opponent. Great pilots, like Wedge, Han, and Jon, excelled at being able to not only know their limitations, but those of their opponents. These three pilots also had the advantage of flying ships that were the best of their field. The X-wing might pale next to the E-wing and most definitely next to the W-wing, but it was the best ship of its time. The Falcon looked like a piece of junk and often broke down, but it had it were it counts. The W-wing was the best fighter ever to fly in the void of space, and Jon was the best W-wing pilot.
Now Jon was facing a new kind of ship and pilot. The idea behind the W-wing was to give the pilot no restrictions or limitations as to the maneuvers possible. It had a zero turning radius, in-system hyperspace capability, unlimited laser firing ability, the best sensors, and incredibly strong shields. The Empire had now adopted that philosophy as well. Though the new TIE had weaker shields and weaker firepower, it was also smaller and quicker, making it much harder to hit.
Jon and Victor continued their little sparring session for about three minutes before they broke it off. Neither of them had allowed the other to get behind them so they had only been taken passing shots. Now as they flew toward each other again, giving any observer the idea that they were simply going to exchange brief fire again, Victor angled down well before the intersection point, giving Jon the perfect opportunity to follow.
The tall pilot took the chance to get on the tail of the smaller ship, seeing no obvious trick at play. Jon was sure that Victor wouldn't try the same type of simulator trick that he had done before. Even with the simulated TIE dead ahead of the skilled pilot, Jon was not able to get a clear shot at the twisting and turning fighter.
Victor had wanted Jon behind him, confident that with the nimbleness of his fighter he would be able to avoid any of the W-wing's fire. The new Imperial recruit also wanted Jon to get frustrated. Instead of being frustrated, Jon became inventive. He quickly estimated Victor's next maneuver, figured out where it would take the TIE, programmed his nav computer, and executed a very short hyperspace jump.
Victor's sensors immediately told him that the W-wing had disappeared from behind him, and the Imperial quickly adjusted the sensors to a broader setting to pick up the illusive enemy craft. Jon popped back into real space in front of the TIE. The W-wing spun around like a top, still keeping its original momentum, which had it flying backwards as the two fighters faced each other.
Victor's hand flew from the sensor controls back to his flight stick but not before Jon was able to get two good shots on the TIE. This would have ended any other fight the Republic pilot had ever had against a TIE, but this modified fighter merely shuddered heavily as Victor managed to execute a limping, upward corkscrew.
Jon's awkward position of flying backwards took a moment to correct. The engines first had to stop the ship before it could accelerate in the opposite direction. This short delay gave Victor the opportunity to pull in behind the W-wing. Unlike the Imperial had done earlier, Jon allowed himself to get hit as he pretended to out maneuver his enemy. Though the action was opposite that of the earlier chase, it had the same philosophy behind it. Jon wanted Victor to get frustrated with both the strength of the W-wing's shields and the weakness of TIE's arsenal.
Though Jon allowed himself to get hit, he didn't let himself absorb constant fire. The shields were strong but if Victor had ever been able to get four quick hits in succession he would have found that the ship wasn't invincible. This little game continued for a short while until both fighters broke off. Whether Jon had finally lost his tail or Victor had simply given up the chase mattered little. Sanson and the rest of the 185th were watching and thought that this might have to end in a draw. Both fighters had been given the opportunity to hit their opponents and had failed.
Instead of giving up, Victor and Jon both realized that they would not win this fight through conventional means. They flew at each other again with Victor pulling out early once more. This time, instead of following the elusive TIE at the same speed, Jon punched his accelerator, hoping to narrow the gap between the two crafts.
Victor noticed the increase of speed and pulled up into a sharp assent. Jon followed as best he could at the speed he was maintaining. Halfway through the sharp climb Jon came up on the TIE very unexpectedly. He was heading toward it as if it wasn't moving, and a brief examination of the situation told Jon that that was exactly the situation. Victor had come to a full stop, wanting Jon to shoot past him. Jon thought it a risky move with very little possible gain. The TIE was in Jon's sights at point blank range for a split second and the pilot spared nothing, draining the smaller ship's shields and scoring a very damaging hit on the top back of the ship.
Jon was unable to do any more damage, having to veer to the side to avoid a collision. Victor was quick to chase, but Jon pulled a similar maneuver, slowing down and hoping that the over zealous pilot would accelerate right back into his sights. Instead, Victor pulled up right along side of the W-wing, flying in formation at the reduced speed Jon had initiated.
Jon took this brief reprieve to check his sensors. He had done considerable structural damage to Victor's TIE, and that spot of his ship would be vulnerable to any type of shot no matter the shield strength. Jon's sensors also told him that a tractor beam had locked onto his ship.
Jon looked out of his cockpit at the simulated image of the TIE, which was flying a few ship lengths away in perfect formation due to the strength of the tractor beam. For a moment Jon thought he could see Victor's grinning face in the computer generated cockpit of the TIE, but shook off the feeling, instead concentrating on what the crazy pilot was trying to accomplish from the insane maneuver. Sure the tractor could hold him at these reduced speeds, but the TIE didn't have half the mass of the W-wing and the hold would break during Jon's first skilled move.
Even as Jon punched the accelerator and twisted into a sharp bank, he remembered what Victor had requested of Bep. He had wanted the tractor beam linked to the automatic pilot. As soon as the tractor beam felt the slightest tug in a different direction, the autopilot would be able to mimic the move much faster than human reflexes would allow. Sure enough, the TIE stayed right with Jon through out his evasive tactics.
The tall pilot still couldn't figure out what Victor hoped to gain from this little trick. He might be waiting for the damage done to his craft to repair itself, but Jon knew that he had done permanent damage to the TIE that all the time in the world wouldn't fix. Neither of the pilots could fire at each other in this position with all of their weaponry pointing forward, unless . . .
Jon spun his craft again, taking advantage of the zero turning radius his independent engines offered him. He turned to face his adversary, flying sideways. There was only one problem: Victor was no longer there. Jon shifted his gaze briefly to his instrument panel as he executed the turn and then looked up into empty simulated space where a TIE should have been.
Jon had no time to contemplate the situation as his ship shook violently once, twice, and then a third. The third blast wasn't actually felt by the pilot in the simulator, but Jon knew there had been one as the computer turned off, telling him that he was dead.
Jon was slowly figuring out what had happened as the simulator replayed it for him. The only way to get out of the tractor lock was to turn to face his opponent. As soon as that had happened, Victor's TIE had executed a tight loop with the help of his hyperspace boosters and inertia dampers. Victor had to wait for Jon to turn because he needed to know exactly where Jon would be when his TIE pulled out of the maneuver. As before when Jon had flipped around, he would be vulnerable for a few seconds, unable to change course, until his engines were able to regain control from his momentum.
The TIE's loop had taken the smallest fraction of a second and Victor was presented with the broad side of the W-wing. The proximity was so close that the Imperial hadn't even needed a lock and simply fired three quick torpedoes, ending the fight.
Jon exited the simulator very slowly, not wishing to face the female admiral. Vince and Bep hung their heads in embarrassment for Jon's sake, not knowing how well their friend would take defeat. Sanson was practically glowing. "I don't think he abused the system that time, did he?"
Jon shook his head slowly, but Vince noticed something different about his friend's body language. Vince got the idea that Jon was suppressing a grin behind his faked sorrow. "He beat me fair and square this time, Admiral."
Sanson didn't need to hear anymore. She was far too excited to notice the subtle difference in Jon's posture and probably didn't know him well enough to have picked it up even if she had wanted to. Sanson exited the isolated chamber that housed the 185th members, making plans for the few cloning cylinders they had been able to salvage.
"What's up?" Vince asked as soon as Sanson had left.
Jon didn't answer but walked quickly over to the three ships that were sitting in their unusual quarters. He wheeled a portable ladder over to the back of the modified TIE and climbed to take a look. Bep was very familiar with the design of the ship and small smile began to grow on his face as well.
Vince wished desperately to be let in on the secret and raced over to have a look at the back of the TIE himself. The twin ion engines took up most of the room at the back of the pod, but if Vince remembered correctly, Jon had hit the ship in the simulator a little above the engines. Before the TIE had been featureless on the outside, simply a pod, two solar panels and an engine. Now, there was a small protrusion in the back of the ship. Vince looked carefully at the piece of machinery, remembered what it was, and immediately understood the joke.
"That's the inertial damper, isn't it?" Vince asked rhetorically. After all, he had installed it. "How well is the component layout represented in the computer simulation?"
"Not well at all," Bep replied. "I have no skill at graphics and left the old TIE exterior as is."
"In reality, after taking damage to the rear of his ship like Jon's opponent did . . ."
"The ship would have never allowed him to pull that maneuver at the end. Without a functioning inertial damper, the G-forces would have turned him into a quivering piece of flesh."
"Bep," Jon asked, doing his best to keep his voice straight, "could you do me a favor?"
"Already on it, good buddy," Bep replied.
"Remove the hyperspace safeties," Vince said aloud to himself.
Jon looked up from the TIE, happy that both his friends had been able to see the flaw in the simulator. "You, my good friend," Jon said across the ship to Vince, "can make yourself useful by figuring out a way to scan for breaks in an interdiction fields."
Vince looked hard at Jon. "Since when have you become the leader of this group?" he asked jokingly.
"Since I've become the one with all the good ideas."
All three friends laughed.
Chapter 12
"Looking for Someone""Jedi, there is something here to see you."
Anakin looked up from his bed at the officer standing in his door. He had just been meditating, trying to revitalize himself after a hard day in the medical frigate in orbit around Forinad. Anakin didn't recognize the officer, but he heard rumors that the new relief team that had come in a week ago was almost exclusively ex-Imperial and they were slowly infiltrating the rest of the operation.
"Who is it?"
"It did not give its name, only that it was imperative that it speaks with you."
Anakin didn't miss the officers distasteful pronouns used to describe his visitor. The Imperial's respect, or lack thereof, for alien races was very well known. The fact that his visitor was an alien piqued his curiosity. Chewie was the only person he could think of, and you wouldn't be able to drag him away from Leia right now.
Anakin uncrossed his legs and got up from his bed to follow the officer down the hallway. The trip to the receiving room of the frigate was short and Anakin ventured a look out one of the windows to see what ship was docked at this airlock. He recognized the Jade's Fire instantly, but didn't think that the officers would have referred to Mara as an "it."
Instead of Mara waiting for him in the reception room, Anakin saw a hairy alien, about one-point seven meters tall, wearing nothing but dark glasses. He stood calmly with excellent posture and had a very powerful aura about him. "Anakin Solo," he asked calmly, his voice sounding almost melodic.
Anakin nodded.
"You are to come with me."
Anakin looked back out the window at the Jade's Fire. "On that ship?" he pointed.
The creature in front of him nodded.
"The Jedi is working here and can not leave without authorization from Commander Pearson."
Anakin was about to try some hypnotic suggestion, though he didn't think it would work with more than five people present, but his visitor beat him to hit.
"He will come with me now," he said with a deep growl. The alien adjusted his glasses and showed everyone watching that he had very powerful claws. Anakin now understood what Mara was playing at. She was not as famous as Anakin or any of his family, but there was a chance that these Imperials might not have let Anakin go with her. With this creature, the Imperials had no idea what was happening.
"He is right," Anakin said to the officers. "I am supposed to go with him. I will stop off at Commander Pearson's command ship after I leave to make it official."
Anakin's new friend gave him a curious look at this last comment, thinking that this was the last thing they wanted to do. He thought twice, though, when he saw the officers' reaction to the comment. They ate it up - anything to get this . . . "thing" off their ship.
Anakin took Ra'tok with him to his quarters while he packed a few things. Everyone they met in the hallway gave the Defel a wide birth and Anakin began to respect Mara a lot more. No one would question him or ask what he was doing with this companion. After five short minutes of packing and a message left with one of the other Jedi there, Anakin was ready to go.
They walked back to the ship and boarded without incident. Mara was waiting in the cockpit for them. "Ra'tok, meet Anakin Solo. Anakin, meet Ra'tok, a Defel I picked up some days ago. He's my new copilot for a while."
"He's quite unique."
"That he is," Mara agreed.
"Don't talk about me as if I weren't here. I do understand Basic," Ra'tok pointed out, breaking what little ice there may have been between him and Anakin.
They hadn't gone far from the frigate before Anakin made an observation. "Do you know that you are carrying a tracking device?"
Ra'tok was utterly stunned, while Mara just smiled into her controls. "Mara hasn't explained the half of you, young Solo," Ra'tok burst out with a bark of laughter.
Mara waited until her copilot was finished before she spoke. "Do you think you can disable it?"
Anakin concentrated for a while, his eyes half closed. "Yes, do you want me too?" he asked feeling that Mara had something up her sleeve.
"Not just yet, Anakin, not just yet."
Before any of the rest of the ships in the Denorid system could try and delay the trio any longer, the Jade's Fire launched into hyperspace.
* * *
The Scavenger settled down a little awkwardly onto its designated landing platform. Eranadis hadn't fully mastered the unique instrument panel in the homemade ship and this was his first landing. The jolt when the front pilon hit the ground a little early shook the whole ship violently. Eran looked worried as he glanced back into the living quarters of the ship. He wasn't worried for the safety of the ship but of his passenger. The ludicrousness of his concern dawned on him immediately, and he focused on simply getting the ship down in one piece. He wasn't, after all, transporting a sick or sleeping passenger. Jaina was in stasis and probably impervious to anything save a blaster or lightsaber.
Eran still checked in on his human cargo briefly, making sure that the Jedi was strapped securely into her bed before he left the ship. Eran had been forced to park far away from the palace on Coruscant. The flight controller said there was some heavy legislation going down, and there were no spaces available within a thousand kilometers of the capitol building.
Eran locked down the ship and smirked at the hangar attendant as he approached to apply the normal security measures against ship vandalism. "Nice landing, bud," the middle age man said with heavy sarcasm.
"A repulser stabilizer blew out briefly," Eran responded, lying through his teeth. "You should feel lucky that I didn't take down this whole place."
The puff of black smoke that accompanied such a blowout had not occurred, and the attendant simply smiled at Eran, not wanting to get into a big debate. Eran didn't wait for the man to challenge his claim and made his way toward the nearest transport. While waiting for the bullet transit to the palace, he paid a few credits for a news chip and plugged it into the data pad he was carrying in his coat. His hand bumped against one of the two lightsabers suspended in his jacket and he remembered that he had to be cautious around security equipment.
Eran took a seat on a bench and began scrolling through the day's happenings. Eran's mouth almost opened wide enough for the bullet transit that was arriving to drive right in. The debate in the senate today was over the establishment of a health and drug administration within the Republic. The new administration would be responsible for galactic-wide distribution of rare medicine and health equipment to impoverished worlds in the Republic. If the proposal were passed, many worlds not in the Republic would have a very large incentive to join. The kind of health care that President Snotzenexer was implying could heal many war-torn planets.
That was the line that had opened Eran's mouth. "President Snotzenexer." Eran had been very out of the loop during his flight from the Solo twins and Tatooine was not the media hub of the galaxy. There were always such things as coincidences, Eran reminded himself, as he scrolled down the news report looking for a picture of the new president. President Alex Snotzenexer had smiled nicely for the image replicate and the picture was placed prominently towards the end of the report along with other big wigs in this debate.
Eran cared little for the actual debate but was overflowing with curiosity about the president. When Eran had last seen Snotzenexer he had been the admiral of a small fleet hiding in an asteroid field. Now in the span of about thirty days the man had become the most powerful being in the whole galaxy.
In front of him, the bullet transit left without Eran on it, but he hardly cared. The former Imperial agent was back at the news desk, asking for the news chips which contained the events of Snotzenexer's rise to power. Yesterday's news was very inexpensive, and Eran convinced the newsman to give him some of the two week-old chips for free.
Eran scrolled through the reports chronologically backwards of how Snotzenexer had become president. His nearly unanimous election was the first thing he glanced at, but saw nothing that could give him any information about any underhanded tactics. The previous event was Snotzenexer's financial miracle to save the Republic from ruin.
Eran looked at this report with intense interest. It had been his job to steal the financial records from the palace and then the economic disaster had happened just a little while after. Eran had a very good memory and saw that the natural disaster, which had forced the loan repayment from the Republic, had happened only four days after he had sent the stolen information to the admiral. Eran saw that hundreds of innocent people had lost their lives in that disaster. Eran had killed many people in his life, but had only ever killed out of necessity or when the other side was clearly in the wrong. Snotzenexer had killed innocents for financial gain.
There were reports from special probes into Snotzenexer's past as to how he had become a bank president. The report mentioned the terrorist attack on the entertainment franchise that Snotzenexer profited on. The media had called it a lucky guess, but Eran recognized it as the cold hearted murder of several hundred more people.
The real kicker, though, was when Eran read about the Denorid system. It was reported as a very unfortunate disaster. Eran remembered the numerous asteroids that had been in the huge hangar of the Super Star Destroyer. Eran had been thoroughly confused as to why the Imperial had the space rocks in the ship, but now saw them as more murder weapons. This time not killing hundreds, but billions.
Eran almost felt sick to his stomach as the facts became clear to him. He read about the exiling of Skywalker and the removal of the former president Leia Organa-Solo. He read about the recent report that the former head of the military, Admiral Wedge Antilles, and the person many people thought the admiral had been grooming for next in command, Captain Perry Tremon had stolen a military vessel and had destroyed a squad of ships sent to bring them back. Both men were now considered outlaws by the military and wanted for charges of treason.
What looked like just a stream of events in the news, appeared to the well informed agent as a very concerted effort to remove every last shred of the old power system and replace it with a new one.
What concerned Eran was that he couldn't figure out what Snotzenexer's true agenda was. Amidst the reports of natural disasters and terrorist attacks, Eran also read that Snotzenexer had saved an entire planet from a slow death at the hands of a former Imperial captain. He had then used the planet to set up new food trade routes that would feed trillions of hungry Republic citizens. Snotzenexer had set up a trade federation that had eliminated almost all of the trading tariffs that had stagnated the financial growth of the galaxy for almost twenty years. The new president had saved countless businesses during the brief economic crises, and as a result, brought prosperity where there had only been depression. Now he was forming a health and drug administration to vastly improve health care for countless malnourished planets.
It simply didn't make any sense for someone to kill several billion people to get to power only so he could save a few billion more. The end didn't mesh with the means. Eran looked at the reports again, trying to see what Snotzenexer was doing, but he didn't see a thing. Eran was bright. Some people might even consider him clever. He wasn't, however, an intellectual genius, and he was definitely nothing close to Snotzenexer's level. If the president had spent months planning and carrying out his plan for galactic domination, Eran did not expect he would be able to unravel it in just a few minutes reading the local news.
Eran looked up from his bench, wondering what to do now. He had planned to go to the palace to find the Solo family and return their daughter. He hadn't really thought what his story would be. He couldn't very well go up to Han Solo and tell him that he had his daughter with him. Telling the former smuggler he had killed his son and now his daughter was in a very unusual coma, and oh by the way, the financial disaster was my fault too, didn't seem like a very bright plan. Eran had planned on thinking up a clever story about how he had rescued Jaina from the clutches of the evil murderer, but now didn't even now if he would be able to find a Solo.
Eran watched as another bullet transit pulled up to the boarding platform. He decided that he would still go to the palace. Eran toyed briefly with the idea of setting up a meeting with the president to collect his fee for stealing the financial information, but decided against it.
Eran boarded the transit and took a seat by himself on the nearly empty car. Apparently everyone who was going to the senate hearing was already there. Eran began trying to figure out who he could talk to at the palace who still might be pro-Solo. Snotzenexer had likely replaced all of the key personnel in the palace that had had any important positions. Eran remembered how Jaina had been really friendly with one of the security guards in the palace, but Eran was more than positive all of the guards had been replaced with Imperials by now. The cleaning was usually done by droids. The bookkeepers and secretaries in the palace probably hadn't made that much contact with the presidential family and wouldn't be able to help him.
While Eran was thinking, his stomach rumbled at him. He hadn't eaten since he had left Tatooine, not knowing where the food stores were on the Scavenger. A bell went off in his mind. The cooks in the palace! Snotzenexer surely wouldn't have replaced them. The cooks had to have had a special relationship with the head family and might be able to know where he could find them.
Two hours later, Eran was driving a "borrowed" cargo car loaded down with frozen foods. He approached the south side of the palace where the loading docks were. There was a lot of commotion with other much larger cargo cars going in and out of the unloading area, dropping off every kind of consumable imaginable. Eran straightened his deliveryman uniform and approached the organized chaos on foot, leaving his cargo sitting away from the action.
Griping a data board in one hand, Eran made his way to an important looking person and announced his cargo. "Frozen meats and deserts for the palace." He got no reaction, as the man was busy yelling at someone who was backing up to the wrong dock. "I said that I had a shipment of beef and frozen dairy for the palace."
The man turned very briefly towards this intruder, simply to let Eran know his presence had been recognized. The man turned back to directing traffic and spoke over his shoulder. "Get in line like everyone else, buddy, and hope your creamed ice doesn't melt."
"I just want to know who's going to pay for this?"
The man looked back at Eran realizing he wouldn't be rid of this annoyance easily. "Get in line and we will pay you after unloading."
"Which line?"
The man sighed heavily. "Where are you from?" he asked looking down at his own data board.
"Bovine Buffet," Eran responded proudly.
"I don't see you on the list," the man responded, not sounding very surprised at the absence. It had been a hectic day.
"It was a rush order by the kitchen," Eran lied. "Something about a special meal they were planning."
"You mean the banquet?" the man asked as if it were the one thing in the whole world he despised most.
"I guess," Eran responded dumbly.
"You guess?! What do you think all this is for?" the man waived at the mess in front of him.
"Maybe I could just go to the kitchen and talk to the head chef myself to get this squared away."
"Sure, do you know the way?" the man asked, half expecting he already knew the answer. Eran shook his head. The man gave him brief directions and then ignored him, turning back to the docks were two cargo cars had just collided, one spilling its load.
Eran went quickly, glad to be away from the commotion. Once inside the palace, Eran slowed, not wanting to race past any security cameras that might recognize him. The former agent was known back home for his mastery of disguises but had not had time to don one now.
The kitchen was right where the dockman had said it would be. The cooks seemed almost as busy as the men back at the unloading station. Eran did a little casual snooping and found out that pending the passage of the health and drug motion, there was going to be a huge banquet tomorrow night to inaugurate the organization.
Eran didn't want to get in the way of the busy cooks, but managed to find the break-room where a few of the cooks were relaxing. Enroute to the kitchen, Eran had stopped at a refresher and removed his delivery outfit. He now posed as a news reporter with an advanced data pad and a scribe. "Excuse me," Eran spoke to the seated culinary experts, "I'm from the Republic Review and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"
"How'd you get in here?" one of them asked immediately. It wasn't an accusatory question, simply a curious one.
"Trade secret," Eran responded with his winning smile. "I was given the assignment of doing an interest story on the deposed president. It seems that after Organa-Solo was removed from office her family simply fell off the face off the galaxy. Some of our readers are curious as to what happened to their old leader." Eran paused, seeing how his audience reacted. "I haven't been able to find a Solo anywhere on Coruscant. I was wondering if you knew anything about where they went?"
Eran thought he caught a brief nostalgic look in one of the cook's eyes, and he knew he had them. "I haven't heard much either," a young woman said. "I heard that Leia left with her droids and Wookiee about a week and a half ago."
"You don't know where they went?" Eran asked.
The woman shook her head. An older gentleman spoke up, "I heard that Lando Calarissian, one of Han's old friends came to visit a while ago. I haven't heard anything about them leaving yet, but that doesn't mean they didn't, it just means we haven't heard about it."
"What about the kids?" Eran asked, already knowing most of the answer but wanting to look thorough.
"I think Anakin left about three weeks ago," another one of them said. "The twins have been gone for about as long. They made quite a scene when they left, from what I've heard, but I don't know where they went."
Eran paused in thought, wondering if there was anything these people would know. "Sorry we couldn't be more of a help," the woman said, "but we have to get back to work now."
Eran nodded slowly and walked back toward the dock. He stopped briefly to reaquire his uniform. "Sorry about the mix-up," Eran said as he reappeared on the unloading dock.
"What?" the man Eran had spoken to earlier responded.
"It was a mistake on our part," Eran responded. "Thanks for your help." Eran made his way back to his "borrowed" cargo car and drove it back to its proper place, hopefully before anyone had noticed it had disappeared.
The cooks hadn't given him a lot to go on, but he thought he might be able to track down the Calarissian lead. If he had landed a ship here and had not yet left, then there would be a record of his ship somewhere. Eran rode a transit back to his own hangar, wondering if the air traffic records were on public display or if he would have to fight another giant equipped with Mandalorian armor for them.
The hangar operator was fiddling on a land speeder, only his legs visible protruding from under the hovercraft. "Excuse me," Eran spoke up, getting the operator's attention, "I was wondering if the air traffic records for Coruscant were open to the public."
The operator, Benjor from the tag on his chest, slid out from underneath the speeder on his repulsor sled and got up. He reached for a rag and began rubbing some grease off his hands. "It depends," he said, dropping the tool he had been using into a drawer of his work station, "what do you want to know?"
"I'm just trying to locate a ship belonging to someone I know?"
"Anyone important?"
"Why does that matter?" Eran asked.
"Well, senators and important businessmen can purchase insurance against letting their ship locations be known to the public. You'd be amazed how many people feel that the public is out to get them. Otherwise anyone can usually access the records on their own if they go through the proper channels. So who are you trying to find?"
"I'm looking for a ship owned by a man named Lando Calarissian."
"Right over there," Benjor said, pointing the far corner of the hangar.
"What?!" Eran replied at the unexpected comment. He spun around and looked in the offered direction. An expensive space yacht was sitting quietly in the corner of the hangar. "That's his ship? Lando Calarissian's ship?"
"Is there something wrong with it?" asked Benjor.
"No, I just didn't expect it to be right here. I mean this is a big planet."
"I'm sure the flight controller told you that this was the closest port that wasn't owned by the government. The senators and visiting dignitaries filled all the government ones. The Republic actually moved Lando's ship here a few days ago. Apparently they needed to make room for someone else and this Calarissian fellow hadn't shown up in a while. If he's your friend, I'd like to meet him. He owes some back-pay."
Eran suddenly felt very unsafe. If the government had moved the ship here, that meant Snotzenexer had moved it. Snotzenexer had to know that Solo and Calarissian had teamed up to do what ever it was they were doing. In fact it might even be that knowledge of Snotzenexer that had kept Solo and Calarissian away for so long. Regardless, if Snotzenexer wasn't sure Solo was disposed of, he would be watching this ship to see when the husband of the former president returned. If Snotzenexer was watching, Eran was visible. It was more likely that the busy president had someone else watching the security tapes for him, someone who knew what Solo looked like but not necessarily what Eran looked like.
"Is there a hotel in the area?" Eran asked, thinking that he wanted to hang around this hangar and do some thinking.
"Sure," Benjor responded, leading Eran to the large entrance of the hangar. "That high rise right there," he said, pointing to the nearest tall building. "They should have a few vacancies."
"Thanks a lot," Eran replied. He made his way to the building, got himself a room, started thinking, and basically just waited for something to happen. He only had to wait about an hour.
Chapter 13
"Enacting Justice"Han and Lando walked on the upper levels of Coruscant, still feeling very weak in their legs. Their escape from the underworld had taken a major delay after their initial dash. Han and Lando had rested and slept for almost twelve hours straight before waking up in hot fevers.
Han had been sick before and always found that his wife, or even one of his kids had been able to use their Force abilities to guide him to a quicker than normal recovery. Trince had been worse than useless. He had not wanted to help at all, only wishing to be on with their journey to the surface. The Jedi had in fact almost cursed his companions' weakness as they lay in their own feverish sweat, panting for each breath.
When finally Han had convinced him to use his Force skill to aid him, the well-traveled smuggler had had one of the most disturbing experiences of his life. It was like he was back in the freezing chamber on Bespin again, only instead of his body freezing into stasis, his soul felt drained of all its inner heat as the Jedi worked on him. Han had been able to break free of the "healing trance" the Jedi had induced after feeling the first effects of the pathetic effort.
Trince had seemed almost happy it had not worked, muttering something about him being a warrior and not a physician. Lando had recovered within a day and a half, but Han took three days before he was able to move again. Han and Lando both thought that Han's slower recovery was do in most part to Trince's failed attempt at healing him.
As they walked up to the surface over the next two days, Han required several stops for rest and water. Each of the stops, Trince begrudgingly accepted, all the while cursing the delays. Lando had become friends with Trince in the short time he had known the Jedi, but now he was beginning to wonder what kind of "friend" would act the way he was. Han had a better knowledge of Force users than Lando did, having raised three of them from childhood and having grilled Luke constantly, insuring that his kids wouldn't turn into Siths.
Han knew that Trince was acting like someone possessed by the Dark Side. "Possessed" seemed like an odd way of stating it, but Han could think of no other way to describe the change that the Jedi had undergone. Something terrible had happened to Trince as he had laid in the underworld for the week he had been missing. Something so terrible that it had transformed him into a bottle of rage so furious that he disregarded the needs of his friends.
Han had seen this kind of behavior before. He had known people who had suffered through deaths of loved ones. Those people had insisted on placing blame on something but circumstances had been such that blame could not easily be placed one specific item or person. When people had died during the Rebellion, some rebels would be so outraged at the injustice that they would lash out at anything in their path, wishing to repay violence with violence. In most cases, these outraged people would find a way to get themselves in a fighter or in the front lines against the Empire. They would almost always die trying to make the enemy repay some debt it owed. Instead of repaying a debt, the thoughtless, heartless Empire would merely take another life.
Trince was acting much like those rage filled rebels. Some injustice had fallen upon him and he was searching for the guilty party. Han was worried that in this case there was no guilty party, and the Jedi would simply lash out at the first available party. Han just wished that no one he cared about would end up available.
They were making their way to the palace now, or, more appropriately, the palace's private hangar reserved for the Solos' ships. The security station at the entrance of the hangar recognized Han, but didn't allow entry. "I'm sorry, Solo, but this area is restricted. No civilians are allowed."
"Civilian?" Han balked. "I was the husband to the Chief of State, and before that a General in the Republic."
"You are neither of those things now, sir," the man replied.
"Regardless," Lando piped in before Trince could yell a fowl retort at the guard, "my ship is parked in this hangar and I wish to retrieve it."
"Your ship has been moved, to-"
"You moved my ship?!" Lando interrupted.
"It has been moved to a civilian hangar," the guard informed the enraged gambler. "Your ship has not been vandalized in any way, however you will owe a dock fee when you retrieve it."
Han, the only cool head in the bunch managed to get the hangar's location off of the guard, thanked him, and led the trio away.
* * *
"A lot has changed while we were away," Lando said as they sat in a transit. Han had gotten a news data card and had shown it to Lando. Lando and Han were seated in the transit while Trince paced, fuming at no one in particular. "This Snotzenexer seems to have solved all the problems. Kind of makes our whole ordeal pointless, doesn't it?"
This was a bad comment to make, Han knew. Trince heard the comment, and it did nothing to improve his mood. The fact that he had been tormented unjustly was already a big problem, but now the whole trip that had put him that dreadful situation to begin with had turned out to be trivial.
"Still," Han pointed out, "there are quite a few things for this Snotzenexer to work out. The Denorid system is still a problem. He has a military that is too small to protect his vast holdings. Plus, it looks like he is starting to get his first opposition from the public," Han added, indicating the debate that was going on in the senate chamber at that moment.
"Where do you think Leia went?" Lando asked.
"It's not even a question," Han answered. "She went to Yavin IV. It's the only home she knows of away from here. We talked about going to Corellia, but without me, she'd be lost on the planet."
"We're going to the Academy then," Lando said unnecessarily.
"Not the Academy," Trince spoke for the first time in a while, his voice almost a growl.
"Why not?" Han asked, challenging the surly Jedi for the first time, confident that Trince wouldn't make a move against him.
"They are a bunch of pacifists. We need to act. We need to go to the source of the trouble."
"What trouble?" Lando asked. "Nothing is wrong."
"Can't you feel it?" he asked, looking right at Lando. The old gambler shook his head. Han also, in turn, shook his. "Something is very . . . not right here - everywhere. Something has gone terribly wrong and no one is doing anything about it. We will not also sit by and watch the whole galaxy go down to hell."
Han wanted to put his hand on the temperamental Jedi's shoulder, but didn't dare. "You have been through a lot," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "more in fact than a human should have to go through. I'm sure you are feeling more pain and anguish than you can rightly explain. But what ever the problem is I'm sure Luke can heal-" oops wrong word.
"No more healing!" Trince shouted, drawing the attention of the rest of the passengers on the car. "No more meditations! No more seeking guidance through the Force! The galaxy - the Force itself - has been polluted with some great evil that no meditation or trance can fix. It has to be removed by force. Like a cancerous tumor, it must be eradicated from the universe. The Jedi must do this. They are the only ones who can do it. It is what they were meant to do from the beginning of time. Now is the time for action - for retribution."
This last word scared Han enough that he tried one more time. "Are you sure your vision is not clouded by the pain? Could you-"
"Could I be mistaken?" Trince's voice was quieter again, but much more insane. He had the wild look in his eye that inspired nightmares in children for years on end. "Could I be mistaken? Could you be mistaken? Could Luke, Yoda, Windu or any of the others have been mistaken? What of the gods themselves, if there are any. Could they have been mistaken? Could we have been placed in this galaxy by mere chance, making not only our recent trip pointless, but in fact our whole existence trivial? Is there a better reason that good should triumph over evil other than it allows a happy ending for a child's bedtime story? Could there be some underlying meaning of life that has nothing to do with good, evil, the Light Side, the Dark Side, life, or death and instead have everything to do with the amount of nerf steak we eat in our lifetime? Could I be mistaken?" Trince's voice now dropped below a whisper, but had a rasp to it that allowed everyone on the transit the privilege of hearing what he had to say. "Yes, I could be mistaken, but I hope, for the sake of life as we know it, that I am not."
Han decided that it would probably be best if he didn't try to cheer up his friend anymore. The rest of the trip was very quiet; Han and Lando looked straight ahead while Trince paced.
The trip lasted only a few minutes, and the hangar in question was found easily enough. Han thought that after Trince's outburst in the transit, nothing would be able to surprise him anymore. He was quite mistaken. After talking to the hangar owner, and being told that someone had been looking for him and Lando, Han was allowed into the hangar. There, sitting in the middle of the building was his children's ship, the Scavenger.
"The person who was looking for us flew this here?" Han asked Benjor.
The operator nodded. "Yea, he said that he was looking for you and that he would be staying in that hotel over there." Benjor pointed toward the building in question.
"What did he look like?" Lando asked.
"He was a little taller than you two and probably half your age. He had dark hair. He looked pretty agile too. It was in the way he moved, like a professional athlete or something. You know, he walked like he was confident of everything he did."
Han couldn't think of anyone like that. Jacen was more than just a little taller than either Han or Lando. None of the other Jedi students that his kids had been friends with had that kind of presence that this man was talking about. They would just have to find out.
Fifteen minutes later the three of them were standing outside Eran's hotel room door. The chime sounded inside the room and Eran asked who was there. "It's Han Solo and Lando Calarissian," Han said. "We understand that you want to see us."
Eran paused before he remotely opened the door. This was the moment he had dreaded. He had decided to tell them the whole truth. There was no real point in holding it back. If he was going to help Han and his friends strike back at Snotzenexer he would need to be honest with what he knew. Whether he lied or told the truth, Jacen Solo would not be coming back. "Come in."
The door slid open revealing a third and unidentified member of the group. Eran suddenly tensed in his chair, his lightsabers making their weight against his chest very present to him, as if warning him of action. This third member of the party had an aura about him that screamed out danger. Eran suddenly had great doubts about telling the whole truth. The former agent looked briefly around the room he was in, making sure he was familiar with what might turn into a battleground. The room was rather small. He was sitting in the only chair up against the wall facing the door. To Han and his associates' right was the holo-vid and to their left was a clothes dresser. To Eran's immediate right was his bed, underneath the only window in the room. Then further on his right was the doorway to the refresher and a closet.
"What do you want?" Han asked, tensing his own muscles at the reaction Eran had given the group.
"I have information that you desperately need," Eran said slowly, keeping his eyes on Trince.
"Concerning what?" Lando asked.
"Concerning many things. Such as Snotzenexer's past, his rise to power, his possible agenda, and also," Eran swallowed hard as he looked at Han, "your children."
"You stole their ship," Han stated carefully. "What happened to them?"
"Jaina is with me. She seems to be in some sort of coma. Jacen, is, well . . ."
"He's dead," Trince spoke, his eyes boring a whole into the seated man in front of the trio.
"What?!" Han screamed, not wanting to believe this. His eyes darted between Trince and Eran for confirmation.
Eran nodded slowly, wondering how to continue. "He and I, well, we . . ."
"You killed him," Trince said, his voice suddenly getting much lower and guttural.
Han really didn't know what to do. A minute ago he was the father of three and now he suddenly found out that his oldest son was dead, his daughter was in a coma and this man in front of him had been responsible. Ever since he had joined the Rebellion some thirty years ago, Han had never really been rash, but now he had a sudden flush of rage run through him.
Eran saw Han draw his blaster so fast that the former agent almost didn't have enough time to get away. Eran leaped from his chair over the foot of his bed just as a blaster bolt tore the stuffing out of the chair.
Han had not really intended to fire, but Eran's sudden motion had startled him. Han gathered his wits about him and merely aimed his weapon at the prone killer. Eran had grabbed at the first thing his hands had touched for some type of protection and now held one of his pillows in his right hand as a pathetic type of shield. "What happened?" Han asked, believing that there was definitely extenuating circumstances surrounding his son's death or this man would not have so freely told him.
Eran didn't really have a chance to speak. Trince literally threw Han and Lando out his way as he stepped through the pair toward Eran. The Jedi had his lightsaber ignited and stared demonically at the killer. "No more talk," his voice was now that of a nightmarish fiend from the pit of hell. "No more discussion. Now we have retribution."
Eran had two lightsabers; this Jedi had one. This Jedi's stance spoke volumes of his fighting prowess, and after fighting Jacen, Eran was not impressed. The room was small and not good for lightsaber battle, favoring Eran immensely. With all these benefits, Eran should have been confident about the upcoming scuffle. With one look into the bloodshot eyes of Trince Alinter, Jedi Knight, Eran was terrified.
The former government special agent had never run from an equal fight before, but he ran now. Before anyone else in the room could make a move, Eran turned toward the window at the foot of his bed, bringing his right fist into the window. With the pillow protecting his hand, he smashed through the glass like it was paper-thin. Trince was shaken out of his stationary pose and rushed at the bed three meters away.
Eran had grabbed a hold of the top of his bed sheet with his left hand before he had begun turning and now jumped out of the window with the sheet trailing behind him. Eran looked at the permacrete surface below him some twenty stories down and hoped this would work. The bed sheet became taunt momentarily as it reached its length, tucked into the bottom of the bed. Trince saw the sheet become tight and cut the lifeline with his lightsaber even as the sheet loosed itself from under the bed due to the weight of the leaping Eran.
The sheet had become tight enough, though, to impale itself on the broken shards of glass sticking up from the bottom pane of the window, giving Eran just enough resistance to swing back to the building. His feet were aimed at the window in the identical hotel room bellow, and he crashed through just as his glass shard anchor broke away from the window sill above him, letting the sheet follow him into the room.
"Please tell me you didn't break another one of the hotel's expensive glass vases, dear." Eran rolled into the room, becoming momentarily entangled in the bed sheet. His head came up fast, and he found himself looking at a very startled middle aged man reading in a chair. "Honey, did you break something?" Eran spun around to face the voice that came again and saw a towel clad woman rubbing her hair with a second towel emerging from the refresher. "Hun, what's going on?" she asked. Then she saw that there was a strange man under the bed sheet on the floor, the edge of which was still smoldering from Trince's lightsaber. "Eeek! Get out!"
Eran picked himself up quickly, noticing oddly that the man still hadn't moved from his chair. He raced over to the door and made a hasty exit, leaving the sheet behind. The husband simply went back to reading his data scroll, leaving the wife to gape at their hotel room floor and broken window. She ran after Eran, emerging in the hallway and yelling after the retreating vandal. "Come back here! We're going to have to pay for this, you know!"
The wife looked back into the room, noticing that her husband was giving her no help at all. "Well, Harold, aren't you going to catch him."
Without looking up from his reading he spoke. "I noticed how you immediately assumed that I was at fault when you heard the window shatter."
"What?!"
Eran left the couple behind and made his way to the lift. They would expect him to go down, Eran thought of his pursuers, assuming they were going to give chase. Since he was already a floor bellow them, it only made sense for him to increase his lead. Instead, Eran took the lift to the roof, knowing that with the constant growth of Coruscant, rooftops were often turned into streets.
One floor up, Trince led the trio's race to the nearest turbo lift. They had all stuck their head out the window and saw what had happened to the killer, and immediately decided to try to catch him. Trince stopped short in front of the lift as his eyes followed a path up the shaft behind the closed doors. "He's going up," Trince said. Not waiting for Han or Lando to agree with him, he looked around the hallway. At one end he saw a staircase and made for it with Force enhanced speed. Han and Lando looked at each other, not wanting to climb the ten flights of stairs to the roof, and instead ran around a corner in the hallway, looking for another lift.
Eran stepped out onto the roof just as Trince burst through the service door. The two exits were right next to each other, placing the two potential combatants at arm's length. Eran was the quicker and kicked out with his foot, catching Trince in his chest. As Trince landed hard on his back, Eran raced in the opposite direction.
There was a walkway connecting this building with the one next to it, and Eran made his way to it. The hotel was the taller building, and the walkway had a dozen stairs in the middle of it. It was noon with the sun straight up in the sky, and as Eran skipped down the stairs, he saw a shadow pass over head. The trained fighter didn't question his instincts and halted his rapid descent, letting Trince land in front of him.
The walkway was wide enough for three people to walk abreast with Eran standing next to one of the railings. Trince was the only one of the two who had a weapon drawn, and he swung it at his defenseless opponent. Eran anchored his hand on the railing and flipped backward up the stairs. Halfway through his flight, Trince's lightsaber cut through the railing supporting his enemy's flip. Eran was inverted when the railing went and came crashing down on his shoulders.
Eran reacted quickly, rolling to the side, and lifting his legs up into a backward somersault. Trince swung at the agile agent's legs, cutting through the walkway instead, as Eran rolled out of the way. The walkway groaned heavily under the weight of the two fighters as one of the railings, and most of the walkway had been destroyed. Eran felt the groan and his very vulnerable position. He started scrambled back up toward the safety of the hotel roof just as Trince cut through the other railing. Eran saw the shadow pass over him back to the high roof as the walkway sagged drastically in the middle.
There was still about half a meter of steel left in the walkway, but it was slowly tearing, as the weight of the stranded agent was too much. Eran glanced back over his shoulder at the tear and was reminded that he was thirty stories above the permacrete bellow. Eran looked back up the increasing slope between him and the hotel roof and saw Trince guarding the roof with a glowing sword and an evil grin.
Eran felt the remaining section of the walkway rip down to only a few centimeters and swallowed hard. The endangered agent tensed his legs and leaped backward just as the walkway gave way. The section he had just been on pivoted on its anchor point at Trince's feet and slammed hard into the hotel's outer wall, shattering the few windows in its path. Eran turned over in the air and landed on the other section of the walkway. Trince had cut the bridge off-center, and the majority of the structure now hung from the hotel.
Eran's new perch also began to swing down under his weight. It had been angled upward toward the higher hotel roof, though, and only passed level as Eran scrambled onto the lower roof. Eran looked back at Trince and saw that he was tensing to jump across the fifteen-meter gap. Eran drew both of his lightsabers, looked at the leaping Jedi's flight path, and hacked up the edge of the building where it looked like Trince would land.
Eran stepped back as his opponent landed hard on the weakened roof. The permacrete crumbled away under Trince's feet and his lightsaber left his hand, the deactivated weapon skittering on the roof past Eran's feet. Trince was dangling by his fingertips over the huge drop; the broken bits of permacrete still falling bellow him. Eran took a step closer to him and saw Han and Lando on the hotel's roof, watching the encounter. "I killed Jacen Solo only in self defense," Eran said loudly enough for Han and Lando to hear but looking right at Trince as he hung on for dear life. Both of Eran's lightsabers glowed threateningly over Trince, not allowing him any room to flip up.
"You could have never killed Jacen in self defense," Trince said, his voice still low and guttural. "He was the best fighter in the Academy."
"I've beaten you, haven't I," Eran said to the apparently defeated Jedi.
Eran heard the snap-hiss of the dropped lightsaber as it came to life behind him. Eran dove to his side and came up rolling. He looked back to where he had been standing and saw the lightsaber complete it revolution, the blade a few centimeters off the ground. Trince had tried to chop Eran down at his ankles.
The Jedi was now able launch himself up from his precarious position on the side of the building, and his lightsaber leaped into his hand. Eran was still in a crouch, both lightsabers drawn and ignited. "I don't want to kill you too," Eran said, trying to sway the Jedi from his attack.
"Don't worry," Trince replied with deadly calm, "you won't."
The Jedi charged screaming with his blade high over his head. Eran could have killed him right here. Trince's entire body was exposed under the upraised lightsaber. Instead, Eran made a strike at Trince's exposed legs, hoping to cripple him. Eran had to roll to the side to avoid the potential downward strike. Trince had other ideas. Instead of coming down with the expected overhead chop, he brought the weapon down sideways, swinging in front of his body like a smashball player reaching for a low, inside pitch. Trince connected with both of Eran's blades before they hit his legs and sent them in the opposite direction that Eran had been rolling.
The resulting impact and change of momentum flipped Eran on his back. Han and Lando now watched in amazement as this newcomer fought off Trince's fiery assault while lying on his back. The Jedi's weapon was longer than either of Eran's, and Trince stood at the fallen fighter's head to keep him from getting up.
Eran's reactions were put to the test as sparks from colliding blades showered down on top of him. The skilled fighter finally managed to get one of his blades to threaten Trince's legs, and the Jedi had to step around to Eran's feet. The prone fighter then lashed out with his foot, trying to trip his standing opponent before Trince could attack his exposed legs. The Jedi again moved, this time taking a step back and swinging at the offered leg. Eran drew his leg back, kipped to his feet, and met the swing with one of his own blades.
Both fighters were standing now and Eran pressed the attack, two blades against one. Han and Lando thought the fight would soon be over as Eran worked the out-matched Jedi toward the center of the roof. Trince's back suddenly came in contact with a stack of permacrete blocks. Like Eran before him, Trince now had to fight off attacks with his back pinned. Both observers from the hotel roof could tell that Eran did not want to kill the over zealous Jedi, for he had many opportunities. Instead, the superior fighter tried to knock Trince out, often leading a strike with the handle of his weapons.
Trince had had enough of the mercy fight and looked for a short reprieve in the action. He found one as his blade intercepted a side attack and he ducked under a high punch. Trince's empty hand shot out toward Eran's chest, but the cautious fighter, stepped back out of the arm's range. The attack had not been a punch though, and an invisible Force wave lifted Eran off his feet and through him four meters back.
Eran got up, much more wary of his opponent. He watched as one of the permacrete blocks wiggled itself free from the pile behind Trince and flew towards him. It wasn't moving fast, and Eran sidestepped it easily. He looked back at the Jedi and saw that more of the blocks were loosening themselves from the wall. Three of them came at once and Eran had to bat one of them aside as he dodged the other two. Now more blocks came and at an increased rate. Inside the flow of permacrete stepped Trince.
Eran was dodging frantically and swinging wildly as he watched the concentrating Jedi approach in the midst of the hailstorm. The blocks passed just under his arms and just over his shoulders. They flew through his legs and over his head. Trince raised his lightsaber, stepped into range of the heavily taxed fighter, and gave Eran something more to worry about.
Trince's attack routines were not too complex, but anytime there was an opening in his defenses, a huge block came flying at Eran, either intercepting his attack, or causing him to dodge back. Eran slowly tried to work Trince into a rhythm, forcing the Jedi to have openings for a permacrete block when Eran was ready for them. To Han and Lando, the display looked truly extraordinary. Two people were fighting on the rooftop with a pile of permacrete blocks five meters away raining horizontally on them. Eran was moving so fluidity that every motion either deflected a lightsaber, a block, or moved him out of the line of fire.
Trince felt the rhythm too and became enraged. He didn't even use his empty hand this time as he hurled Eran away from him. All of the blocks suddenly dropped out of flight, crashing and skidding on the roof. Eran flew to the edge of the roof, and his lower back collided hard with the twenty-centimeter ledge that surrounded the rooftop. Eran got to his feet quickly, very aware of his proximity to the long fall, and braced himself against the ledge by placing his left foot on it.
Trince didn't advance, but merely pointed at Eran with his index finger at an arm's length, his palm facing up. The Jedi slowly curled his finger up into his fist, and Eran could feel himself growing lighter as if the Jedi's finger was lifting him by his chin. His right foot left the roof and joined his left on the ledge. Trince curled his finger all the way back to his waiting thumb, turned his wrist over, and flicked out with his cocked finger.
Eran saw the motion and understood the implication. He braced himself for the force wave, but it came as only a slight shove in his chest. Eran leaned backwards as he absorbed the Force wave, his arms waving violently at his side. The lightsabers in his outstretched arms were making large, blue circles in the air, as he resisted the urge to look at the empty space behind him. Eran hung at the odd angle briefly, before tumbling backward off the ledge.
Even at their great distance Han and Lando watched the moment of realization pass over Eran's face before he tumbled from sight. Han and Lando also saw Trince in their wide view. The disturbed Jedi reveled in that moment of power. The moment in which he held Eran's life in his hands. He had held his cocked finger in position a few tantalizing seconds before flicking Eran off the ledge. As the doomed man had waived his arms around, trying desperately to keep from falling, Trince had smiled.
Now, Trince didn't even bother to look over the ledge at his crumpled victim lying on the permacrete below. He simply attached his lightsaber to his belt, walked over to the hotel side of the smaller building, and casually leaped across the great expanse.
"You didn't let him tell you where Jaina is or how Jacen died," Han said, trying to keep his voice calm.
Trince walked past the two men, heading toward the lift doors at center of the hotel roof. "Jaina is in her ship," he said over his shoulder. "He murdered Jacen to claim her for his own."
Something about this didn't make any sense. "But he said she was in a coma."
"She is in her ship," Trince repeated.
"But how did Jacen die?!" Han shouted, getting tired of the Jedi's aloof behavior.
Trince turned violently away from the lift doors and stared hotly at Han, who had walked up behind him. "I can not bring your son back from the dead. Not even your friend, the supreme Luke Skywalker can do that. All can I do is see that his killer is punished, and he has been."
"Who made you the judge, jury, and executioner?" Han asked, finally willing to face down this wayward Jedi.
Trince turned all the way around. "He admitted to the crime. You even fired at him. I can't believe you are trying to defend the man who killed your son in cold blood."
"If he had done that, I don't think he would have admitted it. Why would he bring my daughter back to me and admit to killing my son if he didn't have a good reason for doing so?"
"I did what I felt I had to. It is done. It can not be undone."
The lift doors opened and Trince walked into them, but Han thought other wise. He grabbed his shoulder and spun him back around. "You did what you felt you had to do, huh? What did you feel? Hate? Anger? Animosity? What do you feel now? Satisfaction at a man well killed? Exuberance in being able to hold his life in your hands for a few brief moments before pushing him into death?"
"You know not of what you talk! You have no idea what that moment before death means. Have you ever teetered on the edge of death knowing it would come and only having to endure the wait? I'm not talking about close calls in an asteroid field, or racing through a hallway just ahead of enemy blasters. I'm talking about death as sure as gravity. Death as certain the morning sunrise. That moment of realization has been visited upon me long enough to account for a million deaths like the one you witnessed. Don't talk to me about what you don't understand."
Han had nothing to say, but Lando had been listening to the conversation, figuring out what had happened. "That's what you did then, isn't it? You repaid him," Lando gestured toward the other building's ledge, "what had been given to you. Do you feel better now? You said that you endured a million such deaths. Will you then seek the blood of a million victims before the well of anger in your soul is emptied? You could care less about Jacen and seeing his murderer punished. You simply struck out at the first life that presented itself to you with a valid excuse for your actions."
Han jumped into the lecture. "If you hadn't noticed, he held your life in his hands as well. I don't know if you were so wrapped up in your hate to see, but he could have struck you down several different times during that fight but decided not to. Would someone who had killed my son in cold blood do that?"
"Is someone who would rather see the truth be known than cut down someone he holds no grudge against worthy of what you gave him?" Lando asked. "There is no one person who is responsible for what you went through under this city. No matter how long you look, you will only ever find more semi-valid targets like the one you just threw off a building. Targets that you might be able to validate killing in your warped mind, but none of their deaths will ever drain a drop from your penned up hate. Every one of their deaths will only make it that much easier to validate killing your next victim. Is that what you want to do? Do you want to kill everyone in search of the possible source of your anguish?"
Trince remained stoic under the criticism. "Are you two finished now?" Getting no immediate response, Trince motioned to the still open lift. "Good. I believe your daughter is awaiting our arrival."
The ride down the lift was quiet, the whirring of the lift's repulser making enough noise for everyone aboard. The trio made their way toward the hangar with the Lady Luck and Scavenger. "Did you find your friend?" Benjor asked politely.
Han nodded.
"Where is he?"
"We dropped him off somewhere," Han responded as he made his way to his children's ship. Under the front pilon, tucked behind some wires and hydraulic houses was a small switch. Han flipped the switch and the outer door to the ship lowered to the ground. Lando let Han enter first, keeping Trince behind him with a strategic positioning of his body.
Han went straight to the sleeping quarters on the ship and found his daughter strapped to her bed. He knelt down next to her, not showing any outward emotions but inwardly screaming to hold her in his arms. Jaina's face was filled with color; her hair still held its moist sheen. Han could feel the heat from her body at his close proximity, but as he crouched next to her for a minute, he never once saw her chest rise in a breath.
The father put his head on his daughter's chest and listened patiently for a heart beat. He placed his fingers on her wrist but couldn't find a pulse. A tear slowly made its way down Han's face as he looked at his oldest child's face, wondering what had happened to her. He had to agree with Eran that Jaina did still seem alive, but exactly what had happened was a mystery. If Trince hadn't been so swift with his "justice" . . .
"She still lives," Trince said from behind the two men. Han was too absorbed with his daughter, but Lando noticed something different in the Jedi's voice. Trince's employer turned to look at him and saw that his face showed a new emotion - sorrow, regret, apology - Lando couldn't tell. Apparently their little speech back on the roof had had some effect. "I can try to revive her."
Han had remembered Trince's attempts at healing him back in the underworld. There was about as much chance of Trince getting his Force sensitive fingers on Jaina right now as there was of Eran surviving his fall. "No," Han replied, trying to keep the anger out of his voice and not entirely succeeding. "We will take her to the Academy."
Lando expected another sarcastic comment from Trince about how great Luke was, but the Jedi held his tongue. Lando noticed that he had to bite his lip to do it, but Trince let the vote of no confidence in his Force ability slip by.
"Well, Trince," Lando said, trying to get this awkward scene to the next stage, "why don't you come with me to the Lady Luck and see if Snotzenexer's boys messed it up any."
Han thanked Lando silently for taking responsibility of the Jedi, not wanting anything to do with him for a while. "Race you to Yavin IV, buddy," Lando threw at Han as he left the Scavenger.
Han leaned over and kissed Jaina before getting up and making his way to the cockpit. Han soon saw that he was going to win the race because Lando had to settle a price feud before he could take off.
Chapter 14
"Avoiding Conflict"While Eran, Han, Lando, and Trince were scuffling outside of the palace and the adjoining senate chambers, Snotzenexer and the bacta powerhouses were scuffling inside. Xucphra and Zaltin had decided to not go down quietly. The two companies, especially Harmeon and his minions from Xucphra, had lobbied for the rejection of this bill so much that there wasn't one senator that had not heard their side of the story. The real problem was of course what their side of the story was going to be.
Snotzenexer was proposing the creation of an organization to distribute medicine, vaccines, and health care equipment to the uncared for and war-torn planets in the Republic who can't get these supplies on their own. Snotzenexer also wanted to make the medicines that had only been available to the military, available to anyone anywhere and he wanted to do it in such bulk that prices weren't a problem. This plan, if it were successful would virtually end almost all viral epidemics and drastically reduce unnecessary death and suffering in the galaxy. It would do all this and also make everyone involved an awful lot of money. Harmeon had to come up with a story that made this plan look bad.
His story had been simply this: "Vote against this and we will give you a lot of money." He and his associates had also told the senators they lobbied that the system of bacta distribution had been in place for many years and disrupting the system could lead to disaster. This story wasn't too well received because Snotzenexer had been as busy as possible changing all of the other long held traditions and had been vastly improving everyone's way of life because of it.
Harmeon and friends had been able to convince about seven percent of the senators to side with them. This percentage wasn't even worth mentioning and the final vote would probably be reported as having been unanimous. This meant that Harmeon couldn't let the issue come to a vote. With a few senators under his control, the bacta bigwig tried to filibuster.
The first senator given the right to speak began by saying that before voting to accept a new organization for the distribution of medicine, the senate should be informed about the history of galactic medicine. Snotzenexer was prepared for this and knew that this man would not be able to read the history of galactic medicine in less than a week of senate sessions. Snotzenexer did not plan to wait that long. He also knew that the best place, and the most likely place, for this senator to obtain this history was from the Republic library here on Coruscant.
Before the man began, Snotzenexer had asked him if he had already read and understood everything he was about to recite to the senate. The man said he had. Snotzenexer asked him what the report said about veltanium. The man said he couldn't exactly recall. Snotzenexer informed him that the report went on about veltanium for about 10,000 words and said that it was the first medicine found on the planet of Grebic, a planet this senator happened to be from, and was used to cure a disease that this senator's son had had twelve years ago.
Snotzenexer then said that the senator should probably research his information a little better before claiming that it was important for the entire assembly to hear. He also said that he should probably not lie under oath again.
Harmeon had seven other senators ready to filibuster, but only one of them was brave enough to attempt it. This senator, an alien with a very slow speech impediment, said that he wished to describe how bacta effected the economic stability of the planets where Xucphra and Zaltin were based.
Snotzenexer imagined that this senator had the income statement of every employee of the two companies and how the companies' money was spent over the years to improve the lives of the population of these planets. Snotzenexer asked the senator how he expected the proposed health and drug organization would affect the bacta companies.
The alien senator didn't see the trap yet. He responded by saying that it would put the companies out of business and could he please continue with his statements. The senator really didn't want to get in a war of words with the president. A war he knew he wouldn't be able to win.
Snotzenexer apologized for the interruption, but asked that before he begin with how the collapse of these companies would hurt their home worlds, he should probably explain how the increased demand for bacta would collapse the companies. The senator explained that there is no way the companies could meet the demands for bacta that the new administration would require and could he please continue now.
Snotzenexer begged a thousand apologies as he easily interrupted the slow speaking senator again. He asked that since the demand would be high and supply would be low, wouldn't that drive prices up and make the bacta business a ton of money. The senator hesitated, making the pause in between words even greater than normal. He now saw the trap but was helpless to avoid it. Snotzenexer continued in his pause by saying that if he could explain how the companies will collapse then the effect on the planets was something the senate definitely needed to hear, but if the companies would prosper beyond belief then what the senator had to say would probably just be a waste of time.
The alien wished Harmeon was standing next to him to tell him if he should continue. He didn't really have a choice. He slowly explained that with a shortage of bacta, the general public would step up to meet the demand. Snotzenexer didn't even bother asking the next question knowing that it was so obvious that he would only be blatantly insulting the senator. The senator explained that a new type of artificial environment dome that allowed for the growth and production of alazhi in any environment, the main ingredient in bacta, had been developed.
Snotzenexer assured the senator that the two companies would easily be able to outbid a few ambitious farmers and there was nothing to worry about. The alien sighed at having to continue this game, even though the winner had already been decided. He informed Snotzenexer (as if he didn't know) that it wouldn't be just a few ambitious farmers but millions of farmers would be involved. Snotzenexer actually thought that it would be more like "billions of farmers," but he didn't say so. Instead he said that he didn't think this had anything to do with the proposed health and drug organization. The demand for bacta was there whether the organization to distribute it was created or not. Snotzenexer finished by saying that he thought that maybe the bacta companies should make a move against this artificial environment producer instead.
No more filibusters were attempted and the other senators that had orders from Harmeon to work their magic and stop the proceedings decided that they would just sit by and watch, not wishing to be made out as fools. It was likely that both of the senators that failed would be recalled by their home worlds and replaced within two days, a fate no one else wanted.
All of the senators recognized the two sides of this debate now and they had all made up their minds which side should win. The companies in question had a monopoly on a product that no longer should be monopolized. They also realized that although the companies would die out, very few lives would be ruined. The worlds currently producing bacta would still do so, only they would run themselves privately. If anything, this would improve the lives of those involved with the bacta.
No one else spoke up to add to the debate before the vote. Everyone seemed very happy with the way their new president had handled the opposition, and everyone agreed with what he said that this new organization would be a good thing. The vote was unanimous, as expected. The senators who had been paid to vote against it simply abstained, hoping to save face.
Harmeon watched the proceedings with disgust. He couldn't claim that he would have been able to do any better against the president, but then he wasn't a senator and it wasn't his job to win debates. It was his job to maintain his monopoly, and he had done a stangin' good job of it until now.
He had heard Snotzenexer's words when he said that the companies should focus their attention on the producer of the artificial environments. He kind of wished he hadn't said that because now when he made his move against the small shield generator producer, Custom Shields Galactica, on the small, unheard of planet of Rembon, it might look a little suspicious. Harmeon didn't have the skill, resources, or intellect of Snotzenexer enabling the former Imperial admiral to simulate natural disasters any time he wanted to destroy something. If he had, Harmeon might have been able to pull off his little endeavor without calling any attention to himself.
As it was, Harmeon was glad that although this new president seemed to be able to handle any financial, legislative, or administrative problem that came his way, he didn't have the same connection with the military that Organa-Solo had. Harmeon didn't know for sure, but there was no reported friendship between Snotzenexer and the head of the Republic navy, Admiral Antilles. Little did Harmeon know that Wedge was no longer part of the navy, nor was his second in command, Perry Tremon. This placed little known and recent Imperial defector, Admiral Sanson as the next in command of the Republic Navy. Also unknown to Harmeon and almost everyone else, Snotzenexer had a much stronger tie to Sanson than Leia had had with Wedge.
Harmeon knew that if Leia were still in power, she would probably quite illegally station an armada around the planet of Rembon. Snotzenexer seemed to be one who followed rules and regulations much more closely. By the time he got the senate to approve deployment to the small planet, Custom Shields Galactica would be a cold pile of rubble.
* * *
Sandie Hollins reclined in her chair, flipped off the holo-vid, and looked out of her office window at the Iom skyline. She liked this new job a lot. A month ago she had been the secretary for Dran Overn, President of the Galactic Bank in the Detsgor system, GBD. Everyone who knew how that bank ran also knew that she had just as much to do with the inner workings of the bank as President Overn did.
Miss Hollins was in her late thirties, blonde hair (colored to stay that way), and a short but lithe frame. From outward appearances, she looked maybe in her late twenties, with aura of ditziness about her. If anything, she only used that assumed incompetence to her advantage, making deals with misinformed men and robbing them blind. She was the kind of woman that after a two hour meeting with her, you walked away shaking your head and jangling your nearly empty credit pouch saying, "Boy, I sure misjudged her."
Sandie had been perfectly happy working for President Overn. She had held the title of secretary, but had the salary of a part owner. Her life had been simple. The Detsgor system was very quiet and unexciting. Real estate prices were easy to predict, inflation rates were modest, and business was good. Then there was the accident on Xentin, destroying the Mining Corporation of Xentin, MCX.
MCX had borrowed money from GBD. The Galactic Bank in Detsgor was used to writing off this kind of a loss. It wasn't a very big loan, and they had a lot of it paid off already. If Sandie's memory was correct (it usually was) they had owed two hundred forty million on a four hundred million loan at four percent yearly over ten years. The difference in this case was that Snotzenexer had taken the time to personally tell President Overn that he expected positive profits during the quarter.
After that, events moved at such a rapid pace that Sandie's head was still spinning. Sandie had called the Republic to pay the loan; the entire Republic went bankrupt; Snotzenexer swept in to save it with the financial backing of the Varion Imperial Bank; Snotzenexer then withdrew his support from the Galactic Bank in Detsgor as well as others who tried to make a run on the Republic; all the above mentioned banks crashed instantly; Overn committed suicide; Snotzenexer swept up these banks in his enormous financial arms; and Sandie found herself in the employ of the greatest financial wizard ever, not to mention her personal idol.
When Snotzenexer began looking for a candidate to sit in the Varion Imperial Bank's presidential office, he began combing the personnel from his recently acquired banks. Most of the presidents had been removed from the banks when they had crashed and Snotzenexer found that he only had a bunch of aids and board members to choose from. When he saw that a bank secretary had applied for the position, it drew his attention. Either the woman was very naive, or, and more likely, she was very over qualified for her secretarial position and wanted to move up.
It had been an easy choice for Snotzenexer, and he had told Sandie why. The President of the Republic wanted to still have a major hand in the workings of the bank on Iom, and therefore was looking for someone who knew how a bank should be run, yet at the same time was willing to take a backseat in the more important matters. Sandie Hollins would have it no other way. She very much wanted to have the ability make important decisions, but she couldn't think of a better learning experience than operating under Snotzenexer.
Sandie had just finished watching the senate proceedings and the passage of Snotzenexer's proposed health and drug organization. She had been told about Custom Shields Galactica and about their new invention. She had also been told that Snotzenexer wished to invest heavily in the small company. It was not nearly big enough to be traded on the galactic stock market, but Snotzenexer had plans to change that.
Sandie and Snotzenexer both had contacted the owner of the business, a very bright young man, and had told him what they proposed. Sandie had talked to him about purchasing and then expanding the business to accommodate the growth in sales everyone expected. Sandie would make the company tradable on the stock market and wanted to create a construction facility locally in the Varion system as a branch of the Varion Construction Yards, a large ship building company that Snotzenexer had acquired part ownership in.
The owner of the company had agreed easily after Sandie explained how she planned to leave him in charge of the operations and that his personal income should octuple in the first year.
Right now Sandie was waiting for a call from Snotzenexer. He had told her that he would call to give final instructions as to the particulars of the deal with Custom Shields Galactica. She knew it would take a while for the Republic president to get back to his office. Her screen beeped, informing her that she had an incoming call. Sandie activated her holo-com and saw the face of her boss.
"It looked like it went well," she informed him needlessly.
"Better than I had expected," Snotzenexer said back. "Do you have everything set up with the CSG?"
Sandie nodded. "I assume that you want to wait until a moment before the market closes."
Snotzenexer tried to hide his broad grin. This woman was smarter than almost all of his military officers put together. "That's right. Trading will of course be closed this weekend, and I want everyone to get a good look at what we've done before they react. We also need to be prepared to receive the influx that will probably occur." These weren't the only reasons, but the others were military and Sandie wasn't aware of Snotzenexer's many other agendas. Snotzenexer had hesitated in giving her so much authority without her knowing everything, but the benefits out-weighed the problems.
"I'll handle everything on this side, sir." Sandie paused for a moment, waiting to report a little piece of news. "I made an announcement this morning that might have a major impact on what you're doing."
"Really," Snotzenexer was intrigued.
"I put out a notice in our stockholders bulletin that anything involved with Xuchpra or Zaltin should be avoided as an investment."
Snotzenexer was momentarily worried. "You didn't use my name, did you?" It was important that Snotzenexer didn't make any personal moves against the bacta companies.
"No, I signed off on the report. The two companies themselves aren't tradable, but their shipping company is, as well as some of their tank production facilities."
Snotzenexer nodded, thoughtfully. He hadn't thought about attacking the companies this way basically because he didn't want to be seen as an enemy to the two companies but as a victim. Sandie, on the other hand, could make the move, and people would still listen just because she was the visible head of the largest bank in the galaxy.
Snotzenexer smiled as he closed the connection. His bank was in good hands.
* * *
Vince, Jon, and Bep found themselves back in very familiar seats as they piloted their three fighters out of the Super Star Destroyer's hangar and into the arena. Sanson wasn't taking any chances with these three fighters. The arena was made up of seven ships: her SSD and six interdiction cruisers. Each of the cruisers was equipped with several tractor beams all positioned to keep the fighters from flying outside of the arena. Of course the biggest deterrent keeping the fighters from leaving the arena was the three fighters waiting for the 185th.
Sanson had found out something that Thrawn had discovered years ago. Because of the Force, it was not possible to clone too many of the same person at once. The multiple Force echoes of the same mind in a close proximity led to, at best, inconsistency in the clones actions and at worst insanity or death. The female admiral had been able to clone Victor twice. For some semblance of clarity, she called the two clones Victer and Victir.
Sanson had found that while the two clones were mentally stable, they were not quite as good as the original. They were still far better than any other pilots the underground Empire had, but she didn't think the clones would be able to beat the 185th's best in a simulator like their original had. The question was: could the three of them together beat the three members of the 185th?
Victer and Victir weren't as good as Jon, but Sanson bet they could hold their own against Vince and Bep. The problem had always been that while no single 185th pilot could take on five fighters by himself, the three of them together could often take on more than fifteen. They just worked very well as a team. Since Victor, Victir, and Victer all had the exact same mind set and thought process, Sanson wondered if they would also work much better as a team than they did apart.
Sanson also wanted to see if the 185th had anything up their sleeve. She had remembered how the three fighters had foiled her and Commander Qwi'tek's attack on the tropic planet of Gensiffery almost single handedly. That attack had been Sanson's first unsimulated battle and she was sorely disappointed with the results. It had happened in the weeks leading up to the clash at the Dark Ring, another defeat at the hands of the 185th. She remembered looking at the sensor readings with Snotzenexer, trying to figure out what the three fighters and the Corellian freighter were trying to accomplish as they fired the super nova weapon into Danzig 359.
The most recent wounds the 185th had given to the Empire had happened a few weeks ago as eleven of Ward Leonce's clones, the best pilot the Empire had, had been unable to take out one of the three W-wings, while the 185th and Skywalker had managed to destroy three of the TIE's.
Sanson knew that these three young men were not used to defeat. They weren't only not used to it, but had never in fact faced it. The admiral had just gone over the modified TIE fighters with a fine-tooth comb, trying to find out what, if anything, Bep and Vince had done to sabotage the ships. She had given them the assignment of modifying the fighters so they performed better, and it appeared on the surface that they had done just that.
Sanson was not a gullible fool and knew, even though she had not found anything, that there was something shady about the three pilots so willingly helping their enemy. The admiral had of course threatened them with death and promised them their freedom, neither of which she had any intention of allowing, to get their compliance. Even the most recent change to the TIE, removing the hyperspace safeties, seemed innocent enough and had good reasoning behind it, but Sanson felt that something had to be wrong.
Bep and Vince had explained to the admiral when she had questioned the change that it would be impossible for the nav-computer to allow the ship to jump to hyperspace in-system unless the safeties were removed. Sanson had then pointed out that the safeties weren't removed on the W-wings. Bep had smiled when she had said this. He had said that was because he had programmed the navcoms on the three ships himself with the help of the Republic's flight computers, and if the admiral would just allow him access to the Dark Fist's computers, he would be able to write the navcoms for the TIE's.
Sanson had only laughed when Bep had suggested this. Not only was she not going to ever let him have access to her ship's computers, but also just the idea of him programming the TIE's navcoms was out of the question. Sanson was informed enough to know that when original programming code was written and not formally documented, often even the programmer who had written it wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of it after he was done. Bep would be able to fill the navcom with hundreds of bugs that would undoubtedly make their appearances at the worst possible time for the Empire and the best time for the three fighters.
Sanson had finally decided that there was nothing she could do about the situation but wait and see what happened. Yes, the 185th had to have put some kind of bug in the modified TIE's, but no, it could not possibly be a major malfunction or she or her techs would have found it. It was probably something that could only be taken advantage of by a very skilled pilot who knew of the bug.
This little skirmish should bring out that flaw, and one way or another, it would be taken care of. If the 185th won this battle, it simply meant that they were still better than her clones and Sanson would have to learn to accept that she probably wouldn't be able to find a better trio. If the Republic pilots had to use the bug to beat Victor and company, then the bug would not only be revealed, but the 185th would have admitted that without the bug, they wouldn't have been able to survive. The third possibility was that the three W-wings could loose and the knowledge of any bug and how to abuse it would die with them.
Out in the arena, Vince was tinkering with his sensors. He had been able to rig up an attachment that could interpret spacial compressions as interdiction fields, but there were so many natural gravity wells in the system, that he was having a hard time calibrating the setup.
"So, what's out there?" Jon asked, looking at the sphere of ships surrounding them.
"It looks like the interdiction cruisers are only creating a ring around us, giving us fluid space in the middle."
"Of course," Bep put in. "The TIE's wouldn't be able to do any of their fancy hyperspace maneuvering if the fighting area was interdicted."
"It looks like each ship is putting out its own shield and they meshing together to eliminate any gaps," Vince explained, finally working out the proper frequency settings for his modified sensors.
"No time to talk about it now fellas," Jon piped up. "Enemies, dead ahead."
The three TIE's all came screaming at the three immobile ships, breaking up the conversation and sending each of the W-wings off on a random vector. The three Republic pilots had talked about this scenario, having suspected what Sanson would plan next to test her new pilot. They knew how well they fought together and figured that Victor and his clones would do equally as well.
To combat this problem, they had decided to try and fight alone as much as possible, turning a three-on-three match into three head-to-head battles. Although this technique eliminated the advantage that the clones had, being of the same mind, it also forced the 185th to fight differently than normal.
The match-ups were exactly as expected. Victor hooked up with Jon, while Victer and Victir took Bep and Vince respectively. The ships didn't have nametags on them and identification through a cockpit while a pilot was wearing a helmet was impossible. Still, the pilots could tell just by the way they flew their ships, who was who. For example, when the W-wings scrambled, Vince broke away first, being the group leader. He and Bep usually fought together, and Bep followed the move before veering off on his own vector. Jon, the spontaneous fighter, did a quick barrel roll into the on-coming fire before turning off at an angle completely different from his two partners.
With the 185th members determined to make this a one-on-one battle, the outcome seemed inevitable. As with the initial moments of Jon and Victor's last simulated battle together, the two ships simply did not fight each other well. The TIE's were too fast and too well piloted to absorb enough fire from the W-wings while the Imperial ships simply didn't have enough fire power to make a mark on the Republic's best.
If the ships had been fighting group against group, traps could be set, double teams could be initiated, and diversions could be executed. As it was, it was going to take another unique maneuver like Victor had pulled against Jon to win this battle. Jon had been in this situation before, and as he easily avoided his trail, he looked out at his other two friends to see how they were doing.
Bep was trying admirably to hit his elusive opponent, but not succeeding. Vince, on the other hand, had brought his opponent far to the edge of the fighting arena and appeared to be pulling a daring "Scoundrel's Cross." The move involved successive turns and rolls, crossing paths with your opponent and coming terribly close to a collision. The move was designed to send both crafts scrambling, eliminating any chase that might have been engaged. The daring part of it was that if the trail identified the move early enough, they could slow themselves, avoid any possible collision, and resume the chase with a potential missile lock.
Jon immediately noticed that Victir, Vince's partner in this deadly dance, had indeed recognized the maneuver and was adjusting his speed accordingly. "Hey, Vince," Jon spoke into the com, "what in the galaxy are you doing? Since when did you start reading a text book on maneuvers?"
"Don't worry, buddy," Vince replied. "I know what I'm doing."
"So does your trail," Bep pointed out, giving up his chase long enough to look at what Jon was talking about.
Sure enough, Vince doubled back across his previous path and flew right in front of the waiting TIE. Instead of trying for a missile lock or falling in behind the W-wing, Victir acquired a tractor lock and pulled up along side his enemy. "Be careful, Vince," Jon said, recognizing the move as the one that had taken him down.
"Calm down, bud, don't you think I watched your loosing effort yesterday," Vince replied, referring to having watched Jon's defeat in the simulator. Then, despite Vince's professing knowledge of his situation, he pivoted around to face his opponent.
Jon and Bep were in shock at their friend's apparently stupid move. Neither of their W-wings was equipped with Vince's new sensor modification, or they would have understood immediately. Instead it took a fraction of a second while Victir activated his hyperdrive maneuver and was yanked out of it half-way through by an interdictor field for Vince's two friends to restore their trust in their group leader. Victir's TIE was disorientated for a brief moment and Vince was able to loop up and around and get two solid hits on the ship before it was able to limp away.
Sanson saw immediately what was happening, and became extremely concerned that she had made a grave mistake. Before the admiral could get in touch with her communication officer and identify which ship was producing the interdiction field that had hindered the TIE, the commander of the ship in question had made his own interpretation of the incident. It was the wrong interpretation
"Pull back," Commander Polgan ordered his navigation officer. "We need to give them more room. The admiral said that the ships needed to fight in un-interdicted space." The navigation officer was a well trained Imperial officer and didn't question the orders even though he knew that they would result in breaking one of Sanson's other strict commands.
Vince saw the opening in the interdiction field as soon as the moving ship created it. "Guys, there's a crack in the shield. I'm sending the vector information now."
Sanson was furious. She had finally gotten a hold of Commander Polgan and began screaming at once. "What are you doing, you stupid swine?"
"But Admiral, we were impinging on the battle. You said we were to let them fight unhindered."
"You've probably opened a crack in the shield. Hadn't it dawned on you that they wanted you to move? Move the ship back at once."
"Admiral," the commander replied, his tone voice reeking of insubordinace, "surely you don't believe that those ships could pick out that small of a crack in the shield while dog-fighting. Even if they could, no navcom in the world could do the calculation in less than an hour."
Sanson said nothing, but just stared at her communications screen on the bridge. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her face as placid as she could make it. She didn't have to wait long. Two seconds later all three W-wing's broke off their engagements and vaulted into hyperspace, easily squeezing through the fifty meter gap in the shield.
Commander Polgan's face was stricken in horror. "Lieutenant Commander Hagin," Sanson called into the communicator. The second in command on board the interdictor cruiser stepped into the com camera's view. "Would you please kill Commander Polgan and take his place. Sanson out."
The admiral didn't bother to watch, confident that discipline was being carried out. She hadn't ordered anyone executed in a long time, and it felt good.
Chapter 15
"Strength in Numbers"Leia opened her eyes slowly, not wanting to shock her senses by yanking herself back into reality too suddenly. Streen was sitting across from her waiting patiently. The former head of state had been in a trance for over two hours and the Jedi Master had waited right next to her the whole time. He had not helped or pried into her thoughts as he had before, but merely observed.
Leia had not merely been performing a calming meditation, but was trying something that Streen had recently taught her. Streen called it an awareness trance, and Leia now knew why. The idea was to spread your mental presence out around you slowly, the sphere of your awareness growing to astronomical proportions. The trance was similar to what a Jedi should always posses with him, but on a much grander scale.
Being aware of one's surroundings was very important, and a Jedi always seemed to be able to sense when danger or trouble was near. A "disturbance" in the Force is always very obvious to a Jedi who is aware of their surroundings. The trance Streen had shown Leia expanded on this idea immensely. It allowed a Jedi to not only be aware of what was going to happen in a few moments, but to also have some knowledge of what was to come in hours or even days.
Leia had spread her presence out slowly, as Streen had instructed, taking notice of the life around her. She did not care much about the jungle moon, or anyone on it, but Streen had told her that if she concentrated on the life here, at a close proximity, it would be much easier to make contact with those much further away.
Leia took notice of the moon, teaming with life. She could feel the many animals of the jungle as they went through their daily routines. The non-sentient beings produced little feeling or emotion, but their life gave Leia a certain sense of strength and she pushed her presence past the atmosphere.
She paused momentarily as she felt the swirling gravity wells of the gas giant around which this moon rotated. Yavin was a huge, super compressed ball of gas that was overflowing with raw power. This planet that she had seen on the horizon numerous times but had never really analyzed momentarily humbled Leia. Sentient life in the universe marveled at its ability to build bigger and more destructive weapons than the previous generation. Every Death Star had to spawn a second. For every ship, their had to be a bigger and more destructive one. Even with all the time and technology to achieve power and strength, here sat a ball of gas that was capable of ripping to shreds anything that ventured too close. Yavin wasn't even close to the size of a normal star, yet it was capable of sucking in whole fleets of the strongest ships known.
Leia moved passed the planet and continued her expansion much quicker now, feeding off of the power she felt around her. She felt other life forms, none of them familiar to her. She was suddenly assailed with an overwhelming sense of life and prosperity and realized she must have stumbled across another planet. She spent a brief time soaking in this new experience before moving along.
She felt others, in space - ships no doubt - roaming around in the void between worlds. Then she felt what she was looking for. She sensed Han. At first he was simply another life force, like the others she had skipped over, but there had been something familiar about this presence that had caused her to analyze it more carefully. There was no mistake that it was Han. Leia narrowed her focus on her husband and anyone else that might be in the area. She felt a very faint presence that she wanted to believe was Jaina but could not be sure.
Now that Leia knew she was capable of identifying individuals, she broadened her scope again and continued her expansion. She sensed Lando, Mara, Anakin, and their companions with whom she was less familiar. Leia also sensed three others coming toward Yavin whom she could not name, but definitely felt familiar. Leia now exploded her search, gaining much confidence from her recent discoveries. She found Luke.
She had spoken to Luke before, using a much narrower searching technique, but this contact was different. Before it had been like talking on the holo-com with out a picture. They had talked to each other in their minds, knowing only what the other was thinking. Now she felt his life force. He was calm and comfortable. She thought he might be conversing with another, but she could not be sure. Luke had told her that he was not alone and had found a friend. Leia examined him momentarily and found that he produced just as strong a life force projection as either Luke or Han had.
Now that Leia was finished and slowly coming out of her trance, Streen could see a definite change coming over her. Two weeks ago she had been very mournful and dejected. Even a week ago after Mara had spoken with her and gotten her to start living again, Leia had only been moving though the paces. Now that she knew her husband and brother were safe, that two of her children were returning, and many of her old friends with them, there came alive the old spark that had allowed this woman, at a very young age, to help administer the defeat of the Empire.
"We are going to have company soon," Leia said as she emerged fully.
Streen nodded in agreement. He knew that everyone was coming. He had sensed them a few hours ago. It had been this knowledge that had prompted him to have Leia perform the meditation. Since he knew that there was someone for Leia to find, he knew that the meditation would helpful.
Leia stood from her sitting position in her chair. "We are going to have company soon," she said again, her eyes in a far off place as if she was trying to remember something. She suddenly looked down at her self. Leia had not showered as regularly as she should have and hair care had been a thing of the past. "We are going to have company soon," she said for the third time, "and I look like a wreck." Leia raced from her room to the nearest refresher. Streen simply smiled as she left, feeling satisfied that Leia would make a full recovery.
* * *
The Jade's Fire was the first to arrive at the Academy. She, Ra'tok, and Anakin (and especially Anakin) were greeted warmly by Leia. Chewie, Threepio, and Artoo were there also, and while the Wookiee greeted the new arrivals with a hug, Threepio resigned himself to handshakes and Artoo to beeps.
Though Leia was happy to see her son and Mara and her new copilot, she was disappointed that Han had not already arrived. She had felt his presence first during her meditation and had thought him to be closer. In reality, Han was closer, but had to drop out of hyperspace early as the gas giant of Yavin was blocking his path.
Han was in a hurry to see his wife and maybe his son, but was cautious not to curse this delay. When approaching the Academy from Coruscant, there was a fifty-fifty chance that you would have to go through this delay and circle the huge planet in normal space. Han didn't want to become annoyed with the delay because he remembered quite vividly that thirty years earlier, when the Rebellion faced off against the original Death Star, this delay had bought Luke and him just enough time to blow the thing to bits.
The Scavenger was always a sore sight, but to Leia, it was a beautiful thing as it floated down to a landing pad. Han came out of the ship alone, slowly at first, the door just opening, but ran the last few steps to his waiting wife. They embraced for a long while, not saying anything and realizing that stories could come later.
"Jaina is in the ship," Han said finally, breaking off the embrace. Han looked around, realizing that someone was missing from this reunion. "I was hoping that Luke could look at her."
Leia shook her head. "Don't you know? Luke is on Hoth. He has been exiled."
Han shook his head, near total shock. The he remembered that he also had catastrophic information concerning their family. Before Han could tell Leia about Jacen, Leia put a finger to her husband's lips. "I know," she said quietly. "What about Jaina?"
Han looked toward his youngest son, who was trying not to pry into his parents' reunion. "Anakin," he called, though he had a pretty good idea that his son already knew what he wanted, "could you take a look at your sister tell us what you think."
The three family members went inside the ship, the rest of the group stayed respectfully outside. Anakin led the way through his siblings' ship, finding Jaina right were Eran had secured her. He knelt down next to her and placed his hand on her forehead. He was surprised momentarily by the heat he felt there, but passed that discovery by and tried to analyze her condition.
"She's empty," he said after only a few short minutes. "She is missing some vital part of her existence and it has left a huge empty void where her essence once was. Her body is alive, but her soul is absent. The Force has filled the void and is keeping her body for when her soul returns."
"You said she is missing something," Han pointed out. "What?"
"Jacen," Leia and her son said together. "Jacen was ripped away from her violently," Anakin continued, "and in her shock of disbelief, her soul went with him, not wanting to try existence without him. It was a spontaneous decision on her part, and obviously not one that she should have made. I don't think I can bring her back without communion with her soul, and it is too far distant to locate."
"Will she stay like this forever?" Han asked, dreading any answer Anakin might give.
"I can not answer that."
"I might be able to," Leia spoke up. "I was in a similar state as Jaina when the wave of Jacen's absence hit me on Coruscant. I removed myself from my body, no longer caring what happened to me or what I looked like. My body kept living and my mind was functioning to some extent, but my heart and soul was not in it. Finally Mara and Master Streen convinced me that I needed to continue and I was able to reattain my focus. Jaina will need to make that decision for herself as well."
Silence existed for a while as what Leia said sunk in. Anakin broke the silence as he looked up at the ceiling of the Scavenger. "Someone else is coming," he said.
Han could see that his son was looking past the hull of the freighter and trying to sort something out in his mind. "Lando was right behind me."
Anakin nodded, having already figured out who one of the newcomers were, but his face was screwed up in concentration. "He's not alone."
Han remembered about Trince. Surely his hateful aura was what puzzled Anakin. "Trince is with him," Han said, knowing that the Jedi and his son had been at the Academy at the same time and probably knew each other.
"That's not Trince," Anakin said slowly and carefully.
Han knew what he meant. "It is," Han insisted, "or at least it was. He, Lando, and I went through a very trying ordeal in the bottom levels of Coruscant." Leia looked suddenly concerned, but Han gave her a reassuring look that he'd tell her about it later. "We were captured and they left Trince for dead. I honestly thought that he was dead, but then he came to our rescue about a week later. He is very full of rage and hate at no one in particular."
"He is filled with rage," Anakin agreed, resigned to accept that the approaching presence was in fact the levelheaded lightsaber expert that he had known back in the Academy.
"Is he Dark?" Leia asked, suddenly concerned.
"I'm not sure," Anakin replied briefly. "He doesn't have any evil intentions about him that I can discern, but his vision is definitely clouded." Anakin paused in thought. "They are just about to land. Let's go meet them."
The family trio decided to leave Jaina where she was, not seeing any advantage in moving her right now. Leia thought that later she would bring her daughter into the quarters here at the Academy. Streen could look at her, and while his powers were far less than Anakin's, his knowledge was far greater. Maybe if Mara's secret plan to rescue Luke worked, he could have a look at her. Leia shuddered at the thought that her daughter might be in this comatose state for the rest of her life.
The Lady Luck was just settling down as the threesome left the Scavenger. The limited ship space at the Academy was being used up quickly with still more traffic expected. Lando and Trince emerged together; the Jedi seemed a bit subdued. He seemed almost sheepish as he looked about the gathering so far. Lando was quickly introduced to Ra'tok, and Han realized that he had not yet been introduced to the unique alien either.
Trince hung back, staying close to the Lady Luck and pretending to check on some of the landing equipment. Anakin didn't let the disturbed Jedi off that easily. "Welcome back Trince," Anakin said as he approached the former student.
"Hardly time for friendly greetings," Trince said, as he quite trying to pretend to play with the ship and turned to talk to Anakin. "Surely you of all people can feel it."
Trince was talking in a hushed whisper and looking around as if he was scared that someone might be listening. Anakin was looking around also and simply saw that Chewie, Ra'tok, Lando, and his father were trading stories, getting to know each other. "Feel what?" Anakin asked back, feeling compelled to respond in a similar whisper.
"Why the discord in the universe," Trince replied, feeling disappointed that Anakin had not known immediately what he was talking about. He continued talking as if he was sharing information that was not popular with the majority, sort of like he was trying to speak out against some deeply held belief and was concerned what might happen to him if someone over heard him. "There is something very wrong in the galaxy. Some evil just sitting on the edge of the horizon just waiting to dive down on all life. It is weighing down on me like a heavy blanket. Please don't tell me that you can't feel anything."
Anakin paused before answering, truly trying to feel something of what the fellow Jedi was talking about. "My brother is dead, my sister in a coma, and my uncle is marooned on an ice ball, but beyond that, I can feel no sense of dread or concern. I'm sorry, but I'll meditate on it."
"Meditate on it," Trince bit back, making a repulsive sound. "You are no different than the others. This is not the time for complacency or ambiguity. This is the time for action."
"We'll see," Anakin replied. He lingered a while longer, wondering if Trince would say more, but left when it was apparent he wouldn't.
Wedge was the next one to arrive a few hours later. With him were Perry Tremon and a very detailed mineral analysis of a few asteroid fragments. Mara noticed that even as skilled as Wedge was, he still had a little trouble landing the crippled Skipray Blastboat. The ship took up two landing pads, and the Academy's ability to handle incoming traffic had officially been reached. With the Falcon, the Jade's Fire, the Lady Luck, the Scavenger, the few private crafts belonging to the students still at the Academy, and now Wedge's stolen transport, the normally private moon was overflowing with ships.
After the greetings and introductions appeared to be over, Mara tried to get the attention of the group. "Is this everyone?"
Leia shook her head slowly. "I don't think so."
The group was standing outside under the fast setting sun, and Mara looked around at everyone. Her mental checklist was complete and with Trince, Perry, and Lando in attendance, she saw that she would have to make her list a bit longer. "Who-"
Mara started, but was cut off as Anakin pointed into the sky. "Them," the Jedi said plainly. Three lights could be easily seen in the dusk descending toward the group.
"You don't think," Wedge started.
"The 185th," Perry agreed. "I was wondering where those guys were. It's been far too long since their scheduled leave."
Mara had no idea who they were talking about, but Wedge, Perry, Han, Lando, Chewie, and Anakin all had some experience with the three exceptional pilots and were glad to see they were part of the group. After the W-wings invented a landing spot in a small clearing next to the constructed pads and the group exchanged their greetings and introductions, Mara ushered everyone inside.
Ten minutes later the group of thirteen people and two droids found themselves in one of the lecture rooms in the Academy. Mara stood at the head of the classroom. She had assumed command of the motley crew and no one seemed to object.
"All of us are here for different reasons, I'm sure," she started, "but I assume that we all have a common concern: Snotzenexer. I know that some of you might know more about what has happened than I do, but I want to assure all of you who don't that the current president of the Republic has a secret, pro-Imperial agenda."
"There is no more Empire for one to be in favor of, though," Lando said.
"It might not look that way," Vince responded, "but believe me, they are simply hiding under the ruse of being part of the Republic."
"I believe Snotzenexer is trying to slowly weed out all of the remnants of the old Republic," Mara regained the floor, "and replacing them with his own substitutes." She motioned to Wedge and Perry. "He already managed to get rid of two of the highest ranking members of the military, and I believe he has closer than normal relationship with Admiral Sanson."
The three members of the 185th rolled their eyes, having long ago realized that Sanson would not have been able to do what she had been without help from the president. "He managed to get rid of me quite easily," Leia piped in, "and he managed to remove Luke from the scene along with any sympathy we might have been able to generate amongst the Republic loyals."
"I agree Snotzenexer is doing all these things," Han spoke up, "but how do we know for certain he is pro-Imperial? What if he was just a bank president who was tired of the current leadership in the galaxy and thought he could do better? He removed the old government and replaced it with one that, as far as I can tell, operates far more smoothly than anything thing we had ever been able to put together."
Before Vince could explain what he and his partners had been through, Wedge spoke up. "Snotzenexer was involved with the happenings in the Denorid system."
"We read about that," Lando put in, "but he is hardly acting like an Imperial. He is sending more relief aid every week and has probably saved millions of lives by the action he has convinced the senate to take regarding the situation."
"We aren't talking about the relief effort," Tremon explained. "We are talking about the actual disaster. We have reason to believe the asteroids were placed on a collision course with the Denorid system."
"You'd have to have a pretty big ship to accomplish that," Lando pointed out.
"Sanson has a Super Star Destroyer at her disposal," Vince informed the group.
"This is all circumstantial," Han said. "I don't mean to be a sore, but I don't want to accuse the head of the Republic with mass murder without proof. Do you have any solid proof?"
Mara looked at Wedge, but the former admiral shook his head. He needed to check what they had found against the asteroids in the Varion system. Even that would only prove that the asteroids had come from the Varion system and not that they were put there by Snotzenexer or Sanson. Mara looked back at Han. "We don't have any solid proof, only a valid suspicion. Call it a Jedi hunch. There are a lot of things about Snotzenexer's past, his rise to power, and his possible agenda, that seem too coincidental."
Something about what Mara had said seemed to stir some forgotten item in Han's brain. He had heard the words "Snotzenexer's past, his rise to power, and his possible agenda" just recently, but they had come from someone else. The man in the hotel room. The man who Trince had thrown off the building. He had said he had information about Snotzenexer.
Everything began to make sense to Han now. The twins had gone after someone who had supposedly stolen the Republic's financial records. Then the Republic had gone into financial ruin, only to be saved by Snotzenexer. Now someone comes to Han after everything is resolved, having had a clash with his kids and claiming to have information on how Snotzenexer gained his power.
If this unknown agent had stolen the records and then sold them to Snotzenexer, or if Snotzenexer had hired this person in the first place, then the sudden crash of the Republic so soon after these events could not possibly be coincidental. The crash had been the result of a disaster at a mining corporation that had killed hundreds of people. If Snotzenexer had arranged that, he could have also arranged the Denorid massacre.
"What are we going to do about it?" Han asked, agreeing with Mara that the new president was not on the level.
"Right now," Mara replied, "nothing." From behind him, Han could here Trince sigh loudly. "There is really nothing we can do. I understand that Wedge and Perry here are planning on going to the Varion system to check on the asteroids. Anakin and I are going to make a trip to Hoth to see if we can get Luke and his new friend back among us." Mara had talked with Leia and knew that Luke had met someone on Hoth and if she was going to plan a rescue, she should include him in her plans. "Which reminds me - Lando, do you remember how you installed the stolen cloaking device on the Falcon?"
"Yeah, I think so," the gambler responded.
"I might need your help then. Beyond that, you and Han should probably try to dig up as much dirt as you can on our new president to see if he does have a week spot. If you talk to Tionne I think she can show you how to access just about any galactic library or news source you want."
"I think it would be best if the 185th came with us," Wedge added. "I'm pretty sure Snotzenexer knows about our interest in the asteroids and he would expect us to go to the Varion system. If we had a little extra fire power, it would prove useful."
"The Academy has an old Carrier you can use," Anakin informed the former admiral. "We use it when we want to train students to use the Force when piloting. It might have a few A-wings in it, but you can remove them if you like."
That left Ra'tok, Chewie, Trince, and Leia without work. Mara was pretty sure Ra'tok would insist on coming along to Hoth and Leia would want to stay at the Academy. With Leia went Chewie, so that left only Trince. Mara got chills down her spine when she looked at the Jedi and hoped he would be able to make himself useful to their cause in some way in the near future.
* * *
Sanson looked over at her husband wondering if this breakfast was going to proceed as all the others had. Snotzenexer had been a little more attentive recently as things had begun to move and take shape in his new administration. The military was now Sanson's to command and no one seemed to mind too much. Snotzenexer had control of the financial market, the trade market, the food supply, and soon the pharmaceutical market. With the success, Snotzenexer didn't need to plan things out so far in advance anymore and some of his conversations at this morning meal had actual begun to make sense.
"What do we have planned for today?" Sanson asked as she saw that her husband was done reading the morning news.
"Well, it seems the talk in the financial market is all about the bank's recent purchase of Custom Shields Galactica. Everyone can't wait to get on board when the stocks re-open in two days. Meanwhile, we need to ensure there is something in which they can invest."
"I have two ships already in the area, fully equipped with a bunch of rag-tag ground fighting vehicles from this government's Rebellion days. They shouldn't be recognizable by the locals and should be able to handle anything that Harmeon throws at them."
"We have to keep this thing under wraps. Misuse of the military is one of the things that brought down Organa-Solo."
"Come on," Sanson begged sarcastically, "give me a little credit."
"I need two more groups of ships also. Do we have any Star Destroyers left in the Varion system?"
"Yeah. There are about a dozen ships left that are still undergoing overhauls at the Varion Construction Yards. What do we need ships out there for?"
"Antilles and Tremon have escaped from Pearson, and I believe they have mineral samples from the asteroids that over-shot Denor and Trewist." Sanson sighed heavily when she heard this. "If they believe that we are responsible for those asteroids, and I see no reason why they shouldn't, the next logical step for them would be to go to the Varion system to check for a mineral composition match."
Sanson nodded, thinking about this on her own for a bit. "Did I mention to you that the 185th members got away last night?" Snotzenexer's face was unreadable at the news. "Well they did," Sanson continued. "I just remembered that Tremon was their commanding officer when they were in service. If their paths should happen to cross before Antilles and Tremon head out to the Varion system, this may be our next chance to remove those three fighters from the picture."
Snotzenexer nodded at the reasoning, but was more than a little skeptical at the outcome. "The second thing concerns Jade and Skywalker."
"He's still on Hoth, right?" Sanson interrupted.
"As far as I know. He managed to deactivate his collar, the satellite in orbit, and his homing device. But unless he has learned to travel through space without a ship, he is still there."
"I remember the last time we talked about this upcoming rescue attempt you said the key to its defeat was tractor beams."
"And it still is. You need to send a ship to Hoth as soon as possible. Have its mission be to check on the droid controlled ships. It will look innocent enough. From the tracking device that is still operational on Jade's ship, I understand that she has just returned to Yavin IV from the Denorid system, where she no doubt picked up the youngest Solo child."
Snotzenexer paused as he took a bite of food. "You are aware of the young lad's special talent?"
"He is supposed to be the most powerful Force user in a while, and I understand he has many talents."
"Yes, but only one applies to what Jade needs. Mara needs a way to get her ship past the blockade. Anakin has only one special talent when it comes to transporting ships."
"Do you mean to tell me that Jade is going to try to make a hyperspace jump through the asteroid field?"
"With Anakin's ability to program navcoms and to make pin-point hyperspace jumps, I'm sure it would be possible for them to achieve it. There are sparse sections of the field where there are probably countless tunnels big enough for a ship every second. Granted they only stay open for a split second before numerous rocks float through the gap, but Anakin could do it."
"He could," Sanson started, catching on to Snotzenexer's plan, "as long as the asteroids kept a constant motion."
"Correct. If Anakin could predict the motion of the asteroids, he would be able to accurately time the jump to bring them though the field and safely to Hoth."
"But if we use tractor beams to alter the asteroids' trajectories just before he jumps -" Sanson rammed an open hand into a fist, "boom."
"Exactly," Snotzenexer agreed.
"Why not just fly through it normally?" Sanson asked after a short pause.
"A valid question. I have no doubt that between Jade and the Solo child that they could navigate successfully, but it would take time. Jade has already taken a trip to Hoth to check the defenses in place, and she found out that the TIE patrols would be able to cut her off before she got through."
"Is there anything else?"
"Yeah," Snotzenexer replied with a mouthful of muffin, "after your forces have annihilated Harmeon's on Rembon, make sure that you blow up the shield factory."
"What?!" Sanson screamed incredulously. "You want us to risk detection in defending it only to have it destroyed anyway. Why not just let Harmeon have it?"
"Two reasons. If Harmeon destroys the factory without any opposition from the Republic, he will assume that I have no power in the military but have to rely on the senate to make my decisions for me. This means that as soon as he finds out we are building another factory in the Varion system, he will have no reason to believe that I have the ability to use the Republic's military to defend myself there either. If we were forced to fight him in the Varion system as opposed to on Rembon, it would be much, much harder to keep it a secret and we would need senate approval. Second, we have a chance to behead the bacta corporations' biggest and most powerful leader. We need to let them know that I do have a very big influence in the military, maybe even bigger than Organa-Solo had.
"If you are wondering why I want the factory destroyed, it's because it would be far too big of a hassle to deal with the owner. The only reason he went along with this deal is because we said that we would leave him in charge. Besides, with a plant in the Varion system, and soon to be other places, we will have plenty of production power without the small factory on Rembon."
Sanson nodded, agreeing with her husband's impeccable logic as always. She was eager to see how all these things would turn out. Sanson also couldn't wait for the banquet that night. She had a smashing dress to try out.
Interlude III
Jaina floated in the endless void between realities.
Jacen "approached" her "slowly."
Terminology in a nether region that was spaceless and timeless denied such ideas represented by words like "approach" and "slowly." A better way of communicating Jacen's actions would be to say he engaged her consciousness cautiously.
Jaina was unresponsive to her surrounding, or lack thereof, until Jacen prodded her gently. If she had been sleeping, her mind would have had her body stir and her eyes blink slowly as she sat up.
"Jaina."
"Jacen?"
"I'm here."
"Where is here?"
"We are nowhere," Jacen responded, choosing his words carefully. "We are in a place the defies spatial existence. We are in the gap between reality and eternity. We are somewhere we should not be."
"I saw you die," Jaina said tentatively, not knowing if the memory or her current state - or both - was a dream.
"I am dead to the world, as are you. My body can not be repaired and has been removed permanently from the physical world. You are not in the same position. Your mind is shut off from your senses, placing you in this plain of limbo. You should go back."
"I would be leaving you alone."
Jacen thought the same thing. "I'm not alone," he lied. "Those who have gone before me are now with me and I with them."
"You sound like a professor, Jacen. Is this a dream?"
"This is as real as it gets, Sis. I have failed, but you should not take my failure as your own. You still have a life to live. Think of your family."
"You are my family, Jacen! Why shouldn't I think of you and stay?"
Jacen sighed. "We can not exist together here as we did back in the physical realm. It wouldn't be the same. Besides, I am just one. You are leaving behind several."
"Since when has quantity surpassed quality?" Jaina fumed. Her subconscious had decided this fate for her, and her psyche wasn't ready to deny the existence yet.
"In this case, quality comes with quantity. What of Anakin? What about Mom and Dad? Are you just going to let them mourn you absence while you exist here with me? This is no type of life for a young Jedi. This isn't life at all!" Jacen calmed himself. He needed to give his sister guidance and wisdom. Including his own frustrations would not help the situation or convince Jaina of the course she must take.
"What will you do if I leave?"
She wasn't going to make it easy. "I will go on," was all Jacen could think of. What would he do? But then . . . "What are we to do if you stay? There is nothing here for us to do. This is a void with nothing but memories. We are all memories here, memories of what we once were and of what we could have become. We stand as models either to be emulated or rejected, but models none-the-less.
"I should not have died. I should not have succumb to my ego or temper. They both caused me to slip and fail during a situation that shouldn't have existed in the first place. What good are these lessons if no one remains to learn from them?"
"So you want me to return to the Academy with the lesson of Jacen Solo, the Jedi Knight who fought to often?"
"No!" Jacen knew what he had to say. "I want you to return to our mother and father. I want you to return to our brother and uncle and to all our friends. And I want you to return because you are alive. If you stayed you would be insulting me more than you could ever imagine. You still have the gift of life. A gift that I only too late have realized is more valuable than all the Force potential in the universe. A gift that is meant to be given as well as received. It is a gift that I did not cherish and have lost. For you to refuse to accept that gift is something that I can not accept.
"Life is not given to be squandered. It is an incomprehensible natural phenomenon that despite our time's advanced technology can not be reproduced. It is spawned from love and continues through care. It thrives in friendship, repelling the dark things of the universe.
"You still own this gift. You have the ability to use it to its fullest or to waste it here with me. The choice is, and always will be, yours."
Jaina said nothing. Her mind wafted around the nothingness surrounding her, slowly coming to realize the truth of what her brother was telling her. "I will miss you."
"I will always be here." With that Jacen left his sister to start her journey back home.
Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Yoda were soon around the dead Jedi. "Is she back with my family now?" Jacen asked.
"She has started the journey," his grandfather informed him. "It is a long tunnel back home, and she must travel it slowly."
"A trip you too must make," Yoda said unexpectedly.
"I can not follow her," Jacen replied curiously, almost asking a question.
"There is another tunnel you must use. It is a tunnel none of us are able to take, but you still have the strength."
"What are you talking about?"
"The Zorian is coming."
Chapter 16
"Rescue Efforts"Buildings in Coruscant, especially most of the newer buildings, were quite tall.
When the Empire had controlled the city planet, the ruling population had been made up exclusively of humans. The Emperor had detested aliens, even above rebels at times, and most of the non-human population had retreated to the lower levels or had just picked up and left Coruscant. This made it very simple for architects to lay out buildings and pavilions. Ninety-nine percent of all humans ranged from 1.5 to 2 meters in height. This is a very small variance compared to other races.
Now, Coruscant was probably more alien than human and body sizes were not always predictable. Most buildings that catered to the public at large had to be ready to accommodate the wide variety of beings that would frequent their establishments. Refreshers had to come in at least seven different styles. Beds, chairs, even tables had to be built to be as user friendly as possible.
Of course all of the things mentioned above could be retrofitted into most buildings. The real problems started when races whose tallest members were only 50 centimeters joined the Republic. They struggled up stairs, couldn't see out windows, and needed to ask someone to operate door consoles for them. The same type of problem happened with races whose shortest members were 2.5 meters tall.
The shorter races were in a minority, and usually had entire buildings built for them, but the taller races were quite frequent. Because of this, ceiling heights in all new structures, especially hotels, restaurants, and government buildings were uniformly raised. Now each story of a new building spanned a height of about three meters.
Another interesting fact about Coruscant was the matter with gravity. The planet itself, in its original form, was not that large. Of course, by increasing the diameter of the planet by a dozen kilometers or more with all the construction, the surface area on the planet grew immensely. One concern early on in the planet's growth was the problem with gravity.
Gravity wells are created by mass displacing the space around it. The more mass, the greater the displacement, and the stronger the gravitational field. Planets usually never have to worry about their gravity because all buildings are made from raw materials taken from the planet, so they are adding nothing to the planet's overall mass.
Coruscant was different. There was no way that one planet could have ever supplied all of the durasteel or permacrete to build just a few layers of the huge city. Coruscant's construction was the result of thousands of planet's contributions of raw material. This meant that the mass of the city planet was growing as it grew up.
A few concerned men did some calculations and found that although the mass was increasing, so was the distance between the top level of construction and the center of the planet's mass. As one goes up in altitude, the pull of gravity becomes less. The figures didn't come out exact, but it was found to everyone's relief that the adding of mass coupled with the increase in altitude canceled out any gravity concerns. This means that as long as you stayed on the top level of Coruscant, the gravity would be pretty close to ten meters per second squared.
Exactly what all this means can be illustrated by a simple example. Say you are standing on top of a 30 story building on the top levels of Coruscant. This means that you are 90 meters above the top level of permacrete. The equation for distance traveled at a constant acceleration is one-half the acceleration multiplied by the time squared. Using an acceleration of ten meters per second squared and solving for time in this case gives 4.243 seconds. This is the time it would take you to complete your fall from the building if you had no initial downward velocity. Accelerating from rest for 4.243 seconds at ten meters per second squared means that your final velocity when you hit the permacrete below will be 42.43 meters per second, or 152.7 kilometers per hour.
Eran wasn't very good at math. In fact, he had not taken a math course beyond the age of 12. This was definitely a good thing, for if he knew about the extreme conditions of his situation as he fell backwards off the building from which Trince had just pushed him, he probably wouldn't have been able to act as calmly as he did.
As Eran's back became parallel with the ground 90 meters below, he knew for a fact that he wouldn't be able regain his lost balance. He also knew if he fell headfirst with his back to the building, he would not be able to do anything about his situation. Eran tucked his knees to his chest and arched his spine backwards, flipping over and bringing his body right side up.
Eran's flip had brought him a meter away from the wall and too far to grab on to anything as he fell past it. Both lightsabers were still activated in his widespread arms, and the quick thinking fighter eased the tips of the weapons into the wall in front of him. The swords resisted at first, but the fast approaching ground inspired Eran to shove the lightsabers into the wall with more authority. He angled the blades downward, pulling his body toward the building so his feet could scrape at the wall.
Eran had managed to slow his descent somewhat, but a quick peak down told him that in two seconds he would likely have two broken legs. He thrust both weapons into the side of the building up to their hilts, and his arms were nearly ripped from their sockets as the blades met incredible resistance. The young man's entire body jolted violently each time he passed a level in the building and the laser swords had to cut their length in the thick floors.
Eran hit the ground hard and rolled with the collision, somersaulting back from the building. He visually traced the two lines of destruction up the side of the building back to where he had fallen and expected to see Trince's face peer over the edge to inspect his dirty work. Instead the edge of the roof remained featureless, much to Eran's gratitude. He got to his feet slowly, testing his recently compressed legs and spine. His left knee seemed a little weak, but the joint had acted up in the past, and it didn't seem too bad now.
Eran had dropped the lightsabers as he had hit the ground and went over to retrieve them. Both handles were very warm, and Eran wondered if he had drained their power cells too much by his life saving maneuver. He secured them back inside his coat, looked around to see if anyone had watched his descent, and then left before someone from inside the injured building came out to complain.
* * *
The planet of Rembon looked very serene from 240 kilometers. Lieutenant Commander Paxtin stared at its slow revolution through the double pained glassine window on the bridge of the ancient Corellian Corvette. He had a crew consisting of mostly Republic soldiers, though there were a few of his Imperials mixed in the bunch.
Sure, Admiral Sanson had flown her fleet and personnel right up to the Republic's doorstep, waving the flags of friendship, but old wounds heal very slowly, and most of the usurped Imperials were mixed very finely throughout the Republic Navy to ensure no chance of a rebellion. Paxtin smiled to himself, glad that he served under Admirals Snotzenexer and Sanson. Older, more idiotic Imperial commanders would have never accepted this kind of "surrender," and would have forced officers like himself to go into battle with no chance of victory. Paxtin now understood there was a better way.
The former Imperial was in command of the small fleet (one Corellian Corvette and two assault frigates) in orbit, but if he tried to order his men to start pummeling the planet below, the mostly Republic crew would undoubtedly revolt against him. Sanson and Snotzenexer knew this, and so they had devised more devious ways to achieve their goals.
Lieutenant Edwards walked up to the pondering lieutenant commander. "Sir," he announced with sharp, Republic salute, "the squadrons have finished prepping their vehicles. We await your command to commence with the training drills."
Paxtin nodded his head slowly, indicating that he understood the officer. "Let's wait just a few more minutes," he said slowly, still looking out the window. "The training area isn't fully below us yet. We wouldn't want our landing vehicles to buzz over any of the populated regions."
Edwards looked out the window and saw that the dessert area where they planned to conduct the drills was still a few hours away from rotating beneath them. "Sir, if we just alter our orbital pattern a lit-"
Paxtin held up his hand. "Patience Lieutenant. There is no hurry. Tell your men to check their machines again. We will be deploying soon enough."
Edwards saluted his commanding officer's back and left. Paxtin wanted to wait, but it wasn't for the dessert to rotate into view.
* * *
Half an hour later, a small fleet of mercenary ships dropped out of hyperspace on the far side of the planet. Harmeon looked at the small planet beneath him and smiled. "Our target is on the western coast of the second largest continent," he said into communicator, transmitting the coordinates to the rest of his hired guns. "I don't want any two permacrete blocks of the factory on top of each other when you are through. Just try and remember what I'm paying you."
The head of the largest bacta producing company in the universe watched as his hired fleet sped towards the surface, preparing to unload their ground assault vehicles. The problem with attacking a factory that manufactured force fields was there was a better than average chance it was well defended. After his mercs took out the shield generators, Harmeon had plans to bomb the factory into oblivion.
* * *
Back on the other side of the planet, the Republic fleet had just finished loading the last of the airspeeders into the atmospheric carriers and was waiting the signal to begin the training drills.
"Sir," the communications officer on the bridge of the Corellian Corvette called to Paxtin, "I am picking up a distress call from the other side of the planet. It seems the locals are under attack by a mercenary force. They are requesting help from anyone in the area."
"What is the local government's capability?" Paxtin asked, already knowing the answer.
"Not very good sir. The planet is not densely populated and has no strong centralized government and any type of military is only capable of handling social disturbances."
Paxtin feigned a few moments of thought before replying. "Inform the fleet that the drills are canceled, and they are to assist the in the defense of the planet from the foreign threat."
"Yes, sir," the communications officer said with a grin on his face, convinced this former Imperial officer had truly defected. There was one problem with this whole maneuver that made it complicated. Rembon was not a member of the Republic. If it were, defending the planet below would have to be a necessity. In fact, if Rembon had been a member of the Republic Sanson could have stationed half her fleet there without attracting any attention.
The planet around which the fleet was supposed to in orbit, Fertitsip, was a member. Due to a small, intentional miscalculation, the fleet was instead in orbit around Rembon, something that only a few members of the crew knew. Conducting military drills on a planet that was not a member of the Republic was a huge breach of protocol, and if this operation was ever uncovered, the pilot and navigation officer were sure to be discharged.
* * *
Warren Oiulem watched from behind the protective shield as ship after ship swooped down on his factory, pummeling the protective barrier and trying to find its weak point. The generators were well hidden on the factory grounds, but the owner of Custom Shields Galactica didn't think that it would stay hidden for long.
"Sir, shields are at 45 percent and falling," one of his aids told him. He held a datapad remotely connected with the factory's main computer system. "Regardless of whether they find the generator, the shields will be down in a few minutes."
"Any response to our distress call?" Warren asked hopefully as he watched two more mercenary ships unload a battery of laser fire against the invisible shell. If only he could get in contact with President Snotzenexer. He sighed at the thought, even the Republic wouldn't be able to get here in time to stop the inevitable.
"No, sir, nothing y- Wait. I'm getting a response."
"Who?" Warren asked, but was answered visibly as a squad of six airspeeders swept over head, intercepting three of the mercenary ships and eliminating two of them.
"I don't know sir," the aid responded. "They haven't identified themselves."
* * *
Harmeon's ship was the only one that hadn't gone down into the atmosphere, waiting for his hired help to take out the shields. His ship was a modified large freighter, and not that impressive next to most capitol ships, but right now it was all the stronger it needed to be. Harmeon had four concussion missiles locked on to the factory's position, just waiting to blow the building to kingdom come.
"Any word on their progress yet?" Harmeon asked as he lounged back in his chair waiting for the good news.
"It appears that they've encountered some resistance, sir."
"What kind of resistance?"
"Airspeeders, lots of them."
"The local military isn't equipped with repulser militia, I looked into it. Besides, the local military has a horrible response time."
"They don't appear local, sir. I believe they are Republic."
"What?!" Harmeon screamed. "What are they doing here? This isn't a Republic world. They have no right without senate approval. They are sticking their nose where it doesn't belong."
"Should I try to raise them on the com?"
"Put their commander on," Harmeon ordered. "This is Norric Harmeon," he said once his officer signaled him that the speaker was on. "This is a private matter and does not concern the Republic. You would be wise to leave now."
"No response, sir. Their three capitol ships are moving around the planet."
"Just give our boys downstairs a little more time," Harmeon begged.
* * *
Downstairs things were not looking good. The mercenary ships actually outnumbered the few squadrons of airspeeders but weren't centrally commanded and couldn't handle the efficiency of the Republic fighters. Still, the mercs were able to weaken the shields to 15 percent before the last of the hired band was destroyed.
Back upstairs Paxtin looked at the freighter poised above the planet. "Sir, our sensors tell us he has four missiles locked on the surface below. I suggest we take him out?"
Paxtin held up his hand asking for patience again. "His ships below have all been destroyed, he might retreat."
"We shouldn't let him escape then?" the officer pleaded.
"He was right when he said we had no authority to interfere. We can not hold him or attack until he makes a move first." Paxtin's patience paid off a minute later when Harmeon's ship unleashed its concussion missiles.
The shields around the factory weren't down, but were plenty weak, and the four missiles turned the potentially prosperous factory into a large crater in the ground. "You may take his ship out now," Paxtin commanded, trying to put a bit of anger into his voice.
Harmeon made a valiant effort towards an escape, but he had waited too long and the three capitol ships closed on his position before he could get into hyperspace. The freighter only got off a couple shots before it was torn apart by multiple turbolasers.
* * *
Eran lay on his bed staring up at the hotel ceiling. The wind blew through his broken window, glass still scattered about on the floor. He had escaped from this room the day before, and apparently the couple downstairs hadn't informed the hotel staff. Or if they had, they had not yet examined the room above the vandalized suite.
The former government agent turned Imperial wondered if he didn't have another turn ahead of him. Several ideas swept through his mind. He had delivered the stolen financial records as Snotzenexer had requested, and wondered if he could simply walk up to the new President of the Republic and demand his payment. Undoubtedly Snotzenexer would shoe him away and then schedule his "accidental" death as he had done for so many millions of people over the last month. The skilled young man had laughed at the notion that anyone could kill him before but found little humor in the thought now.
No, he wasn't going to go back to Snotzenexer. Whatever payment was promised was lost wages. Eran thought briefly of hitching a ride back to the Varion system to get reacquainted with his old employers. That thought only flirted with his mind for a few seconds before he discarded it.
Eran knew too much not to do anything about it. Not only did he know too much, but he had also done too much. He felt guilty about Jacen's death and Jaina's resulting coma. Now that he knew how Snotzenexer had gained his power, he felt somehow obligated to repay the Solo and Skywalker family by acting upon his knowledge.
Eran rolled off his bed and pulled up a chair in front of the computer console imbedded in the room wall. He spent a short while browsing the news reports, trying to find something he could do. The big buzz was still about the recent senate debate over the health and drug bill that was passed. There was a huge banquet that everyone and their gundark was invited too.
Eran scanned the condensed list of guests the news reports supplied as he wondered if there was a way that he could attend. The former agent spent a brief while trying to hack into the complete guest information and found the Republic had spared the list from its more high level encryptions. Eran broke into the listing and began searching for those who had not yet returned their attendance requests. If he could masquerade as an invited guest that wasn't going to show up on his own, Eran would have a good chance of getting in. The first male he found in the alphabetical listing was in the H's. "Norric Harmeon?" Eran spoke the name aloud, wondering why it looked familiar. The bells went off in his head like it the first day of the Hankine Festival. "Harmeon is the head of Xucphra, the largest bacta company in the universe," Eran thought out-loud. "Snotzenexer just passed legislation that will eventually end Harmeon's monopoly on bacta. Still, this isn't the kind of event someone like him should miss. This would be the perfect opportunity to smear Snotzenexer in a social setting with tons of reporters watching. What would keep Harmeon away? What could he be doing that would be more important?"
A brief moment of thought sent Eran into a keyboard frenzy. In ten short minutes he had hacked into Coruscant's communications grid and was searching for information on Custom Shields Galactica. Rembon was a small planet inhabited mostly by entrepreneurs. There was no centralized government and no main media net. The place was virtually unknown. "Tomorrow," Eran continued thinking out-loud, "the market is going to re-open and everyone is going to be looking at Rembon as the home of Snotzenexer's next miracle. If Harmeon wants to do anything about it, he has to do it today."
There was no news about any type of attack on the factory, but Eran had a feeling if Harmeon had made a move, the news wouldn't flow out of Rembon that quickly. "If that's what Harmeon is doing, what is Snotzenexer going to do about it?" Very few people knew that Snotzenexer and Sanson were married, but Eran was one of them. With that kind of link between the military and the president, Eran figured Snotzenexer had to have pulled some type of illegal maneuver to protect his investment.
Eran smiled as he worked to pull up a picture of Norric Harmeon. Not only had he found an identity with which to enter the banquet, but he had quite a few topics he wished to discuss with the Republic President, and he truly hoped a few reporters were going to be listening.
* * *
"What?!"
"I told you you didn't have to come," Mara responded, checking some readings on the Jade's Fire as it sped through hyperspace towards the Hoth system.
"Yes," Ra'tok replied, his voice still frantic, "but I assumed that you had some rational plan for getting us through the asteroid field. Flying through the field in hyperspace is hardly rational."
"True," Mara agreed as she finished her checks and went over to a first aid kit, "but trust me, it is very possible. Now give me your arm."
Ra'tok wasn't really paying attention to what Mara was doing and was suddenly surprised to see her holding a hypo-syringe. "What do you mean to do with that?!"
"I mean to take half a liter of blood from you if you ever calm down. Right now your blood pressure is so high that you might spring a leak and never stop bleeding."
"That's it! I want everything - the whole plan right now!"
Mara sighed at her hairy friend. "Very, well," she lowered the syringe as she began to expound on the plan she had devised. "Anakin Solo," she gestured towards the cockpit where the youth was flying the ship, "has a very special gift of calculating hyperspace jumps in his head using the Force. I talked with him and he believes he can get us through the field. That would be good enough, but I want to trick Snotzenexer in the process."
"This is the president we spoke of earlier, is he not?" Ra'tok recalled their previous discussion. "He's the one we have to second guess while at the same time assuming he knows more than we do."
"That's the guy," Mara nodded. "Anakin confirmed our suspicion that there is another tracking device on this ship. Snotzenexer then knows we have checked the security measures on Hoth. He also knows we went to the Denorid system for a very short while and, if he checked with his officers, picked up Anakin. I believe he knows about Anakin's special talent-"
"Or at least we need to assume he does," Ra'tok broke in, already enjoying this conversation less than the previous one.
"Right. This means he should have guessed what we plan to do. This means he has probably set up a defense mechanism against us. That is what the blood is for."
As Mara raised the hypo-syringe again, Ra'tok stopped her. "Whoa, that hardly explains why you need my blood, or anything else you've done like the scrap parts we have in the hold or the cloaking device we installed before we left."
Mara sighed. "Snotzenexer is going to have to try and do something with the asteroid field to mess us up. Anakin is going to mentally predict the flow of asteroids before he makes the jump. If Snotzenexer can use a tractor beam or some type of explosive to disrupt the normal flow of asteroids right when we jump,-"
"We die," Ra'tok finished for Mara. The Defel could imagine what the result of a ship hitting an asteroid in hyperspace would be like. "So what are we going to do about it?"
"This is where the plan gets a little tricky," Mara admitted. "I am going to try to erect a Force shield around the ship to sense any asteroids controlled by an outside source. Anything outside of the rocks normal paths should stand out clearly in the Force. We will only be in hyperspace for a second or two, so I don't need to win the battle against the tractor beam, or whatever Snotzenexer uses, I only have to delay it."
"But when you sense the offending asteroid," Ra'tok butted in, catching on to the plan, "you will open the cargo bay vent the scrap pieces into space. I assume you are going to rig some type of explosion."
"I have modified the weapons to fire in hyperspace. When I sense the asteroid, I will fire a torpedo at it and vent the cargo hold. It will look like the asteroid collided with us and blew us apart. At the same time, Anakin will activate the cloaking device so we disappear from the Empire's radar. As soon as the cloaking device is activated, all of our sensors will be dead, so the ship will automatically drop us out of hyperspace. We might have to fly a short stretch of the asteroid field blind, but I trust in Anakin's skill."
"This all makes sense, no matter how ludicrous it sounds, but it still doesn't tell me why you need my blood."
"You were chasing that pirate Ronderj for years, correct?" Ra'tok nodded at the comment. "What if I had come up to you a month ago and told you he was dead?"
"I'd ask to see the body," Ra'tok responded, fully understanding.
"If we die in a fiery explosion in hyperspace, there will be no bodies, but there will be trace amounts of DNA."
"But the Empire doesn't even know I exist?" Ra'tok argued, not looking forward to a blood drain.
"There you go assuming Snotzenexer is dumber than he could be. Besides, they will probably scan my ship as soon as we drop into the Hoth system and find out there are three people on board. We better give them three different DNA samples." Without further explanation, Mara walked up to the hesitant Defel, jabbed him with the hypo-syringe, and took the blood she needed. She took the blood sample, collected the two she had already procured from Anakin and herself, and stored them in the hold.
Mara and Ra'tok made their way to the cockpit just as Jade's Fire dropped into normal space. The asteroid field loomed large in front of them, looking far more dense than either Mara or Ra'tok remembered. "Are you going to be able to do this?" Mara asked of her Jedi pilot.
Anakin didn't respond for a while. "I think so, just give me some time. I'm sure there is some sort of mathematical pattern related to chaos theory. If not, I'm sure I could just guess."
Ra'tok cringed, but Mara smiled. "Don't worry, Solo, I would feel more comfortable with your guesses than most nav com's calculations."
While Anakin was searching for a pattern in the tumbling rocks, Mara set herself up in front of the weapon controls. "Is there anything I can do?" Ra'tok asked, feeling useless.
"Go and make sure the hatch to the cargo hold is secure, I don't want to vent us into space when I dump the scrap." Mara spent a brief minute in meditation as she made contact with Luke and told him they were coming. With that done, she spent the rest of the time before the daring jump, concentrating on the two Star Destroyers that were slowly moving into position on either side of the Jade's Fire's projected flight path.
The action would come from one of those ships, if not both. It's just like blocking laser fire, Mara tried to tell herself, though it had been a long while since she had even done that. It was going to be a split second act. Her hands hovered over two switches, one operating the cargo hatch and the other controlling the torpedo. She wouldn't be able to use the computer to aim the missile, but had to use the Force. It was going to be like trying to shoot an arrow out of the air with another arrow.
Mara barely registered Anakin's signal that he was preparing to make the jump. She was so lost in her concentration that she woke from it after the deed was already done. Like suddenly jerking your body to avoid a collision in a daydream startles you into consciousness, Mara was suddenly brought back to reality. Her mind took a moment to adjust to her surroundings, but when it did she looked down and saw she had activated both switches on instinct, and the ship was still in one piece - for now.
When Mara finally began to regain her bearings, she noticed a horrible sound coming from all around her. It sounded like the ship was flying through a bucket of marbles. She looked up from her station and over to where Anakin was sitting at the helm. The forward view was completely black. Mara thought they must be in some sort of nebula when she realized that this must be what the inside of a cloaking field looks like.
"What are you doing?" Mara asked, scared that Anakin might not be as capable at flying blind as she had assumed.
"I'm sorry, Mara," he said, obvious strain showing through his voice, "but I'm not the one who decided to blow up the biggest asteroid she could find."
As Mara realized she was the cause for the shrapnel pelting her ship, the sound decreased slightly. Ra'tok sighed slowly as the noise diminished further and then disappeared completely. "Are we through the asteroids?" Ra'tok asked.
Anakin was concentrating too hard to respond, so Mara extended her senses. "No, just the debris."
Both Mara and Ra'tok sat in the copilot seats and waited patiently as Anakin flew the ship towards the unseen planet. Fifteen minutes of silence passed very slowly before Mara spoke. "Have we cleared the asteroids yet?" She could no longer sense anything around the ship, but wasn't sure.
Anakin answered her by activating the atmospheric repulsers. "We're landing," Anakin said nonchalantly. The three passengers listened as the landing pillions groaned outward from their retracted position. The ship settled down gently and Anakin began to shut down the engines.
"Don't cut the power," Mara said quickly. "I don't want to loose the cloaking field."
"No sensors could pick us up on this frozen planet," Anakin countered, though he obeyed her wish.
"Maybe so," she agreed, "but with the cloaking device activated, we keep Snotzenexer's tracking device from sending out a signal."
Anakin nodded his head in agreement. He concentrated for a brief moment and smiled. "I just took care of the tracking device, but I'll leave the ship cloaked just in case."
With that, Mara, Anakin, and Ra'tok made their way from the cockpit. Ra'tok started towards the outer hatch, but Mara and Anakin veered toward their quarters. "Do you not wish to go outside?" the Defel asked.
Mara and Anakin reappeared a moment later, each wearing heavy fur coats, scarves, hats, and mittens. "Yes," Mara answered, "but it's cold."
Ra'tok, like Chewie, never wore clothes and simply shrugged his shoulders. As Mara activated the hatch and the first gust of arctic air came rushing into the ship, Ra'tok wondered why he had come on this trip at all.
Luke had sensed Mara when she had made contact earlier and was able to guide Anakin's descent into the atmosphere. He and Thomas Thorin, former Imperial Captain, were waiting a ways from the invisible craft. After the stiff breeze created by the craft's descent passed, the two exiles made their way to the invisible rescue vehicle.
Thomas had seen cloaked vessels before, or at least had been told that was what he had been looking at. No one ever really saw a cloaked vessel - that was the idea. With that idea in mind, the former captain was still startled as a door opened two meters in the air and extended a gangway into, what looked like, a different dimension.
Luke took a moment's pleasure at the unusual sight also, happy to see Mara and Anakin waiting for the two men to join them in the transparent ship. Luke walked quickly towards the Jade's Fire, followed closely by Thomas. When Luke reached the gangway into the ship, he looked up and saw Ra'tok for the first time. The Jedi Master's frozen brain had discounted the furry figure as Chewie from a distance, but the obvious height differential became undeniable now.
Luke shrugged his shoulders at the new companion of his friends for now, wanting to get out of the wind first. Soon, both Luke and Thomas were safely aboard the Jade's Fire and introductions could be handed out.
"You have no idea how glad I am to see you," Luke said to Mara. "I was beginning to wonder if anyone out there cared about me."
"You?" Mara said, keeping a straight face. "I just wanted to meet the man who had survived 30 years on Hoth."
Luke laughed at the sarcasm, but understood the wish to be introduced to his friend. "Mara Jade, this is Captain Thomas Thorin, formerly of the Empire."
Mara flinched very visibly at the name, which wasn't lost on either Luke or Thomas. The Jedi let it pass. "This is my nephew, Anakin Solo. Both he and Mara are Jedi of considerable reputation."
Mara scowled at the title, thinking herself as deserving of it as a weekend warrior of being called a pro athlete. She understood Luke's desire to one day convince her to spend more than a weekend at the Academy, but she was happy with the life she had chosen as a trader. Then what am I doing this for? Mara thought to herself. She shrugged it off as the introductions entered the interesting phase.
"And this," Luke continued as he turned to Ra'tok, "is someone I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting."
Before Mara had the chance to take charge, the bold Defel stepped forward. "I am Ra'tok, of the clan Cho'orin, of the Defel. I am pleased to meet you Master Skywalker and Captain Thorin."
"Please," Luke said as he took Ra'tok's extended paw, "I don't care what Mara calls me, but you can call me Luke."
"And Thomas will do just fine for me," the captain added, accepting his handshake in turn. After the formal introductions were finished, Thomas turned back to Mara, curious about her earlier flinch at his name. "Anakin barely seems 20-years-old, but you were alive 30 years ago, weren't you?"
Mara nodded, not wanting to dig up her past right now. Luke knew that Thomas was trying to piece together his own hypothesis as to the woman's knowledge of his name and figured to end the guessing game. "Mara and you have something in common. You were both the Emperor's favorites."
A smile began to cross Thomas' face. "The Emperor's hand," he said quietly.
"It's a small universe," Mara replied curtly, wishing to end the conversation. "In the meantime, my coolant hoses are becoming far too brittle for my liking on this cursed ice ball." With that she stormed out of the reception area and back towards the cockpit.
"Temper?" Thomas asked Luke.
"It comes and goes," Luke responded.
"I heard that Skywalker," Mara called from somewhere else in the ship. "Why don't you and your nephew keep yourselves busy plowing our path of asteroids. Ra'tok and Thomas strap yourselves in. I'm flying us out of here."
Chapter 17
"Cornered"Wedge looked over the console briefly, familiarizing himself with the old carrier's controls. It had been more than 15 years since he had flown such a craft. Perry Tremon sat next to him, handling the hyperspace controls, which announced their trip to be almost over. "I want to get in and out of here as quickly as possible," Wedge said to the three members of the 185th standing behind him. "The Empire might still have a presence in this system and I don't want to press our luck by hanging around long enough for them to notice."
Mara had neglected to inform everyone else as to Snotzenexer's advanced knowledge on their courses of action, or else Wedge might have attacked this situation differently. If Wedge had considered for a moment that Snotzenexer might guess he would show up here looking for confirmation on the asteroid types, the former Republic admiral would have taken measures to insure secrecy and perhaps prevent the loss of one of the 185th members. As it was, he had no idea the Empire was even now tracking him on radar.
"You guys better get to your ships," Perry spoke up. "We got another two minutes before we reach the Varion system. Remember, you don't launch unless we need you for protection or if this ancient ship's weapons aren't sufficient to break up an asteroid." The three youths nodded at their commanding officers' backs and departed toward the fighter hangar.
* * *
Commander Krychink had been left in charge of the remaining Imperial ships in the Varion system as they underwent repairs at the Varion Construction Yards. The ships had received severe damage during the escape from Hastrin that still had not been repaired. Right now he stood on the bridge of his Imperial class Star Destroyer in a close orbit around the planet of Iom. His orders were very clear: track the ship as it entered the system, destroy any fighters that accompanied it, but make sure the ship itself escapes intact with an asteroid sample.
The reason for why Krychink should allow the ship to escape was unimportant to him. The commander, as had the rest of the Imperial officers, long ago stopped wondering if Snotzenexer knew what he was doing. The only thing he thought of now were the consequences if he failed.
The carrier jumped into real space right where the hyperspace radar had predicted, and Krychink watched from behind the small planet as the ship made its way towards the asteroid field that sectioned Iom's orbit from the rest of the closer planets. "Swing in behind them," Krychink ordered his helm. "Come in slowly, I don't want to alert them to our presence right away. Let them get their sample and then we'll arrest them for trespassing."
* * *
Wedge and Perry were concentrating too much on pulling their carrier close enough to the asteroid field to notice the Star Destroyer slowly coming out from behind the small planet.
"There's a big one right over there," Perry pointed to the display.
"I don't want a big one if I can help it," Wedge responded. "It won't fit in our hold."
"Yes," Perry countered, "but in order to get a tractor lock on the smaller ones, we'll have to go into the field to get them. If we shoot one up, we can at least pick up the debris that flies out."
"Good point," Wedge responded and wasted no time locking the old weapon system on the large asteroid. Five seconds and six laser shots later, the asteroid had only lost an imperceptible layer of dust. "Blast this old ship," Wedge said.
"Jon," Perry said into the ship's communicator, "we need a little help in breaking down the asteroids."
"On my way, sir," he responded.
Perry turned back to Wedge. "Jon will take care of it."
* * *
"Sir," the sensors officer on the Star Destroyer spoke up, "I'm detecting a fighter emerging from the carrier."
Krychink smiled to himself. Snotzenexer had said to destroy the fighters, which obviously meant the Imperial Admiral had expected there to be fighters. It wasn't a matter of the commander thinking his superior officer had been wrong, he had just been worried they wouldn't show themselves. "Launch all TIE's."
"All TIE's, sir?"
The question should never have been asked, and maybe in the old Empire the questioning officer would be relieved of duty at best. But it was a legitimate concern given the circumstances. "All of the TIE's" consisted of 72 ships and only one enemy ship was visible. Krychink had been told about the fighters though, and refused to cut corners when pleasing Snotzenexer was at stake. "Yes, ensign. Launch all fighters."
"Yes, sir," the officer considered himself lucky.
* * *
"We got problems," Perry spoke up when the swarm of 72 sensor echoes joined the recently ignored Star Destroyer behind them. "Jon, get your butt back here now!"
"Negative, sir," Jon responded, his sensors not realizing the magnitude of the enemy approaching him. "My objective is not accomplished."
Jon swung his fighter expertly in between smaller rocks, making his way towards a particularly large asteroid. Five quick shots with his laser cannons and one torpedo sent debris flying in every direction. "Now, I'll get my butt back," Jon replied, executing a boot-legger's turn and freezing at the sight of 72 TIE's bearing down on him. A million curses ran through his mind, all too vulgar to utter over the open the com channel.
The expert pilot watched as the TIE's ignored the carrier, flowing over the craft like water around a rock. "Captain?" was all Jon could say as he turned the boot-legger into a 360 and headed back towards the asteroids.
Bep and Vince were still sitting inside the carrier's hangar, their coms on but their sensors oblivious. "Captain," Vince called into the com, "what's going on out there."
"Nothing, Lieutenant," Perry answered. "Stay in the hangar."
"Is Jon in trouble?"
"I said stay in the hangar. That's an order!" Perry was the first one to brag about his prized squadron's fighting prowess, but he knew a slaughter when he saw one. He also knew that Jon was not going to be able to land back on the carrier. In order to make a safe landing, Jon would have to slow way down and stay on a constant vector. There was no way Jon would be able to do that while avoiding the attack of six dozen fighters. So far, the TIE's had not fired on the carrier for they could have easily destroyed the ship with just half of the firepower at their disposal.
"I'm going to pick up some debris and then we're out of here," Wedge said, realizing there was nothing he could do about Jon right now. The one thing he didn't realize was that Perry had left the com on.
"What?!" Bep and Vince screamed together. "What about Jon?"
Perry glanced at the onboard sensors and saw that the two remaining W-wings in the hangar were firing up their engines. The captain quickly closed the hangar doors, though he still wasn't confident his rebellious pilots wouldn't blast through the doors to help their friend.
"Open the doors Captain Tremon," Vince said in a tone not appropriate for a lieutenant addressing his captain.
"I am not going to sacrifice my best fighters on a whim," Perry responded.
"Sacrifice?" Bep asked, keeping a cool head. "What are you talking about? We've never even been challenged seriously as a squadron, much less overmatched. What's out there?" Getting no response from his immediate commander, Bep went to the next level. "Admiral, what's going on?"
"Guys," he replied having just reeled in five chunks of asteroid debris, "there is an entire TIE fighter wing out there right now."
"Victory class or Imperial?" Vince asked calmly, suddenly sobered. Though even a Victory class Star Destroyer held 48 fighters.
"Imperial," Wedge responded. "They don't seem to be paying any notice to us. There is no way Jon will be able to land back on this carrier. His ship is equipped with a hyperdrive. We can only hope he will be able to escape."
Jon had been listening to this conversation in his ship, but had been too busy to interject. He had dived into the asteroid field eagerly, accepting the random asteroids to the aimed shots of the TIE's. Two pairs of Imperials had followed him and had died in less than ten seconds. The rest of the 72 fighters stayed on the perimeter of the asteroids, peppering the field with a literal sheet of laser fire.
Jon ducked behind each rock he could find, trying get as many obstacles between him and his enemies. But like Anakin had proven earlier in the day, each asteroid field had numerous lines of sight and many of the shots hit the elusive W-wing.
"The admiral's right, guys," Jon managed to say in between maneuvers. "There's nothing you can do for me, I've got to get away from this one on my own. I'll see you back on Yavin IV. Now get out of here before they decide to stop ignoring you."
Jon watched out of the corner of his eye as the carrier oriented itself for a hyperspace jump, but held off, waiting for the conclusion to Jon's fight. The pilot realized his friends were not going to leave before they knew the outcome. "No reason in prolonging this," Jon thought to himself.
The ace picked out an asteroid heading for the outer edge of the field, and quickly adjusted his speed and trajectory to hide in its shadow. As the rock finished its elliptical flight path at the outside edge of the field, Jon sprang from his hiding place, diving right into the swarm of fighters.
The W-wing went into a complicated corkscrew, which was preprogrammed to spray laser fire in every direction. Jon also activated his missile lock program, firing all nine torpedoes as soon as they got a lock. In this mess of fighters, locks were acquired and missiles were fired every second.
Thirty TIE's were hit and ten exploded as a result of Jon's daring flurry, forcing the remaining craft to scatter and let the daring pilot through their ranks. The TIE's which had not been in the line of fire of the volatile fighter joined in an immediate pursuit mimicked by the rest of the remaining fighters as soon as they had regrouped.
To Wedge and Perry it looked like a swarm of bees chasing a child that had just disturbed their nest. The main difference is that most bees (the ones on Venta Prime excluded) were not equipped with explosive projectiles. Regardless of the number of craft firing on him, Jon was far too good a pilot to let any missile lock hit him, but the constant stream of hardware that streaked past him made it impossible for his computer to calculate a jump to hyperspace. Despite the inability of the torpedoes to hit him, Jon's ship rocked every few seconds as several laser shots got lucky.
Jon saw a possibility for escape when the Star Destroyer entered his field of vision, still extremely close to the planet of Iom. Jon's W-wing was much faster than any of the TIE's but the power drain his ship had undergone during the asteroid field and the numerous shots that had hit him during the flight through the TIE's left his engines screaming for a respite. Jon turned his ship into a collision course with the huge war ship.
Krychink was watching the whole chase scene with some amusement, wondering where the fighter thought he was going. There was another Star Destroyer circling Iom in the other direction, preparing to box the fighter in between two full wings of TIE's. Seeing the results of the fight so far secured his decision to use all the TIE's. Fourteen of the TIE's had been destroyed while they had still not seriously damaged the lone Republic fighter. While it had not sustained serious damage, Krychink ship's sensors told him that the unique fighter could only maintain his present speed for another 32 seconds.
The commander was supremely surprised when Jon veered into the direct path of the Star Destroyer. Krychink had positioned himself so the fighter would go in the other direction where the second Star Destroyer was waiting. "What is he doing?" one of the bridge officers asked.
"What am I doing," Jon asked himself. His action was justified a moment later when his 58 tails swung in unison to follow him and opened fire once more.
"Sir," the sensor officer on Krychink's Star Destroyer spoke up, "we have incoming."
"Idiots," Krychink said under his breath, though he was inwardly praising the quick thinking Republic pilot. "Shields up," he ordered just as several TIE torpedoes splashed against the protective barrier. "They'll never be able to get a weapons' lock on him with us, a much easier target, in the sensors' line of sight."
"Should we target the enemy craft, sir?" the weapons officer asked.
"If we miss, we hit our own ships," Krychink thought to himself, "serves them right. Fire at will," he said aloud to his gunmen.
Jon spun through the Star Destroyer's sights, missing certain death by a hair's breadth several times. Behind him, TIE's were scrambling to get out of the way, several blowing into oblivion despite their haste. The remaining ships moved into a well-organized flanking maneuver, making sure Jon had no where to go except straight forward into the Star Destroyer.
Jon shot directly for the arrowhead bridge, the least armored section of the ship. The ace didn't bother with any of his weapons, but was simply looking for a bare spot on the ship where the turbo laser concentration was the lowest. Jon was way too fast for the clumsy turbo lasers more used to firing upon capitol ships, but he didn't need to press his luck right now. He was instead saving it for his next maneuver.
The TIE's had moved out extremely wide, giving Jon no path but straightforward. That was where he had planned to go anyway, but it disturbed him that he didn't have options.
Krychink saw the fighter coming right for the bridge, and figured the pilot hadn't gotten so desperate as to turn kamikaze. "Helm, prepare the sublight engines. I want full thrust on my command." Krychink watched as the fighter finally made a last second dive to avoid a collision. "Now!"
Outside, Jon dove back behind the Star Destroyer just as its engines fired. The W-wing had still had enough power for ten more seconds at full throttle, but now was a dozen seconds in the hole. Jon felt the explosion as his shields overloaded in a second and his engines overheated and took themselves off-line. All of his lateral thrusters were missfiring sending him into a cruel tumbling routine. He had no sensors, but the last thing he had seen before the galaxy began spinning around outside his cockpit had told him where he was headed.
Jon's forward momentum and Iom's gravity assured the young pilot that he was going to be a permanent resident of the system for a while. The ship nearly tore itself apart as it ripped through the upper atmosphere of the small planet. The planetary repulsers failed to fire and Jon was very aware that he was still traveling at space speeds in excess of ten times terminal velocity. The wind and air resistance of the atmosphere was actually slowing him down as the incredible heat began to melt the exterior of his ship.
Crossing his fingers, Jon pulled the ejection lever and lost consciousness as he was instantly subjected to a force eight times his own body weight.
Thousands of kilometers back in space, the carrier popped into hyperspace, its occupants hoping for the best.
* * *
Alex Snotzenexer walked up quietly behind his wife. Jill Sanson was half-dressed for the banquet that night, but was neglecting the rest of her preparation as she sat in front of a computer screen. Snotzenexer had no illusions about being able to sneak up behind his wife, so he merely stood behind her and kissed the back of her neck. "Tell me the bad news first," he said into her ear.
"I'm not flexible enough to zip my dress by myself."
Snotzenexer grinned at the comment, as he obliged his wife by closing the back of her green evening gown. He knew that she was reading the events of the day and could hardly believe that her inflexibility was the worst news she had. "And . . ."
"And," Sanson used the same drawn-out pronunciation, "the banquet starts in one hour and I still haven't chosen a pair of shoes."
"That is awful news," Snotzenexer agreed in a mocking tone, standing up straight, no longer whispering into his wife's ear. "It's a good nothing bad happened, like, say in the Hoth system or the Varion system."
Sanson turned to look at her husband with a frustrated look on her face. "Do you want to read the report for yourself?" she beckoned to the screen. "Or do you want me to tell you what happened?"
"I was trying you to prompt you for the information," Snotzenexer replied.
"No, you trying to get me to tell you that my people screwed up and were unable to complete their missions."
"Did they?"
"Jade and the Solo child are dead, along with a third unknown companion."
"Can you show me their bodies?" Snotzenexer asked.
"They hit an asteroid in hyperspace," Sanson countered, "I'm surprised they found trace amounts of anything. No, I can't show you their bodies, but I can show you their DNA spread across the whole system."
Snotzenexer raised an eyebrow at this.
"Harmeon is dead along with his mercenary band that destroyed Custom Shields Galactica."
Snotzenexer made no comment toward this revelation, having already guessed that easy mission would be a success.
"The fighter that accompanied Antilles into the Varion system was shot down over Iom."
"You finally got them," Snotzenexer ribbed. He knew how much trouble the 185th had caused the Imperial fleet both under Sanson's command and Oskiman's before her.
"Well, we got one of them. If the other two ships accompanied Antilles they did not show themselves."
Snotzenexer nodded, taking all the news in without making his own conclusions. Sanson was not an idiot, far from it. Still, he would read the reports for himself later as well as question the Imperials involved.
"Now," Sanson continued, rising from her chair, "all we have to do is pick out a pair of shoes and we'll be ready."
"We?" Snotzenexer said, looking down at his own tuxedo. He had been ready for an hour now.
"You and I," Sanson responded as she crouched in front of her closet and began throwing dozens of shoes over her shoulders as she rummaged.
"There is no you and I, remember."
Sanson stopped her search and pivoted in her squatting position. She was holding two different shoes. "Which do you like, dear? The green one obviously matches my dress but the white ones go nicely with my earrings, though I can't find the shoe's mate. Can one be too green? Maybe if I found a shorter heel people wouldn't even see the shoes under my dress."
"Jill," Snotzenexer said semi-sternly.
Sanson relaxed her tense pose and dropped the shoes. "How long are we going to keep this a secret? I mean Han and Leia were fine as a couple in the eyes of the public."
"Han wasn't the head of the military, and Leia had gained her position without any deceit to uncover."
Sanson rose from her crouch, walked a few steps away from the closet and plopped down onto a deep sofa. "But the people love you. I'm sure they wouldn't mind the idea of the galaxy's most eligible bachelor taking a wife. We wouldn't even have to be married right away. We could pretend to date for a while and then have another ceremony. Could you imagine the celebration when the richest man in the universe gets married?"
Snotzenexer could sense something else in her voice, went over to her, and sat down next to his wife. "There's something else, isn't there?"
"I'm pregnant."
Snotzenexer leaped from the couch in a second. "What?!"
"You heard me. I'm three months along."
Snotzenexer was reeling. Him, a father? He shook the idea from his mind for the moment and looked at his wife. He could see the concern on her face despite her efforts to mask it. "You've gone soft on me, haven't you?"
"Alex," she said, slightly scolding him, "I'm proud to be your wife and will be proud to be the mother of our child, I'm just sick of hiding it. I think we can be public about it now. You heard the reports. The old Republic threat is over. What are you worried about?"
"You have gone soft on me," Snotzenexer said with a disarming smirk. "What happened to the woman who used to threatened officers with their lives for being a minute late?"
"Trust me," Sanson said as she rose from the couch and went back to the closet, "if the kid is Force sensitive, I'll be the first one to throw him to the vornskrs."
Snotzenexer laughed, but also knew his wife was serious. "In six months, it won't matter what the public thinks about me or you. Don't worry about it. Everything's going to be fine. For now we just have to keep our distance in public."
Sanson didn't reply and kept looking for shoes. Snotzenexer shrugged his shoulders and left the room for some last minute preparations.
* * *
Snotzenexer was still mulling over the concerns of his wife as he stepped from the turbo lift and into a large reception area in the palace. The banquet was already in full swing though it was still 45 minutes before it was scheduled to begin.
Snotzenexer had been hidden on Hastrin and in the Danzig system for most of his life and Captain Tallon had not thrown any banquets for his Imperial officers. To say that the President of the Republic was far less experienced in a social setting like this than someone who had attained his position honestly and over time would be an understatement. Still, Snotzenexer intended to keep his wits and patience about him and he would make it through the night.
"Good evening President."
"It's good to see you here, sir."
"I hope you like Coruscant cuisine."
Snotzenexer greeted each of the dignitaries and senators with brief words and a firm handshake. Three minutes into the banquet hall he already wanted to leave, but the former Imperial admiral set his jaw, faked a smile, and continued to greet his many admirers with false words of friendship.
The hope that Snotzenexer could drink the night into a haze he might live through disappeared when he tasted the first glass of champagne offered him. Though the flavor was excellent, he could tell the palace kitchen had reduced the alcoholic content of the drink to avoid any possible trouble drunk senators could cause. Snotzenexer could only hope the dinner wine would be better.
Though the reception area and the banquet hall were enormous, the throng of individuals crowded in the room gave very little area for one to have his own space. Snotzenexer occasionally found himself bumping into the most exotic aliens he had ever seen, and it was with great restraint that he was able to keep from withdrawing in revulsion.
Twenty minutes into the event, Snotzenexer had had enough and decided his wife was right. The only way he was going to make it through the evening was with her at his side. With that thought in mind, the Republic president went in search of his wife so he could flirt with her and get a few people talking about how they would make the perfect couple. In a month or two they could announce their plans to get married, though the idea of going through another event like this pained him dearly.
Snotzenexer raced through the crowded hall looking for Sanson like a speeder bike through a forest. He found a slightly raised platform in front of an hors d'oeuvre table and searched the attendance briefly. One thing he did notice was that there was a multitude of cameras in the hall. At least twenty of the devices hung from the walls, several of which were probably watching him right now.
Finally Snotzenexer found his significant other and made his way in her direction. Sanson was busy talking with several older senators. "You're only partially right," she was saying, having not noticed Snotzenexer's arrival, "yes, one of reasons the Empire lost was because of the superiority of the Rebellion's fighters, but don't forget, we had far bigger, better, and more capitol ships than you did. The real reason we lost was because of bad leadership."
"You mean they were too over-confident?" one of the interested senators asked.
"No, I simply mean they didn't train their officers well. There were no great tacticians in the fleet at all. The idea was simple yet stupid: build bigger and better ships and build a ton of them and no one will be able to beat us."
"So they WERE over-confident."
"Not over-confident, just ignorant. If the roles had been reversed and the Rebellion had had the upper-hand in fleet strength, do you think you would have won?"
"Of course we would."
Sanson smiled. "You seem pretty confident about that. One could even say you sound over-confident." Sanson raised her hand to prevent any forthcoming comment. "You would have every to be confident you would win, and I have no doubt you would, but if over-confidence was the reason the Empire fell at Yavin and Endor, then it should work for both sides. No, you had better leadership and moral. That's why you won."
"Thrawn is a good example of your point," a younger senator said, joining in and trying to rub elbows with elite at the banquet.
"A fine example," Sanson agreed. "You had him out gunned at a much bigger disadvantage than the Empire had had you, but he nearly won because of better leadership. If you gave me a fleet of 100 capitol ships equivalent to a Star Destroyer, a Death Star, and a home base like Coruscant, no one would even be able to challenge me, much less beat me. The same could be said about former Admiral Antilles or half of the current Republic commanders and captains. The Republic simply trains their leaders better."
Snotzenexer grinned broadly at his wife's boast of invulnerability if she had a large fleet. Not too far down the road, that claim would be put to the test. With a slight lull in the debate, one of the senators in the ring that had formed during the military discussion noticed Snotzenexer's presence and formerly greeted him. "Good evening, sir. We were just discussing ancient military tactics. I suppose you've spent most of your life behind a desk reading financial documents and don't care for such things as battle strategy and maneuvers."
Snotzenexer fought desperately against laughter at the heavy irony and managed a weak smile. "I have learned to become flexible as my responsibilities expand beyond balancing budgets and calculating stock dividends." Several senators laughed at the comment, obviously kissing up to their leader. Snotzenexer decided to tell them were they could place those kisses. "If I may offer my humble opinion on subject. I've always felt the Empire lost at Yavin because the laser cannons mounted on the exterior of the first Death Star used infrared imaging to target enemy crafts. The dual scan heat sensors were able locate the central nervous system of nearly any ship in existence and target its vital systems. While this worked well with large capitol ships and many of the freighters the Rebellion called into service, the smaller one-man fighters were far too fast. The X-wing, for example, could exceed the speed of heat, and a vectorial trajectory targeting system like you would find on most of the new Taranon Cruisers would have been far more efficient. In essence, the Empire was trying to shoot mosquitoes with a cannon."
The group of senators was stunned into silence. They had no idea what their president had just said, but they thought it had something to do with cannons. Snotzenexer reveled in the confusion for a brief moment before breaking the tension. "That and Skywalker just got lucky." The laughs came again, and Snotzenexer smiled through them.
"But the second Death Star incorporated trajectory estimation sensors in its targeting systems," Sanson brought up, not letting the topic die.
Snotzenexer turned to look her in the eyes, genuinely glad for a legitimate reason to stare at his wife. "True, but the Rebellion fighters entered the super structure through an incompleted section, avoiding the improved targeting sensors."
"Have you met Admiral Sanson, sir?" the senator who had been debating tactics when Snotzenexer had first entered the conversation asked. "She joined up only a short while back, not long after you took over the presidency."
Snotzenexer nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember the report. I'm terribly sorry to say that we have not met in person, though." Snotzenexer walked over to his wife, took her hand in his and kissed it gently. "You are truly the most beautiful person in attendance, Admiral. And what beautiful shoes."
Sanson realized this display was the direct result of their conversation an hour ago and she decided to play along. "You can call me Jill."
"And you can call me President Snotzenexer." This earned some more laughs, though Sanson frowned at the comment.
The conversation left the military for a while as several senators wished to know more about the new health and drug administration that was to be put in place over the next few months.
* * *
Quinton Vermil adjusted the button hole holo camera in his coat pocket. "Is that better, Emily?" he whispered into his cufflink.
"Yes, sir," C2-MLE responded through the small ear com the young reporter was wearing. "The image is coming in much clearer now. Have you spotted the president yet?"
"No, Emily. Have you confirmed the report yet."
C2-MLE paused as her interface with Quinton's ship computer checked the open communication frequencies. "No, sir. The news from Rembon is still unofficial. The attack on Custom Shields Galactica is only a strong rumor."
Quinton tried to look casual as he continued to talk into his sleeve while holding a glass at his mouth. "But the rumors say the factory was completely destroyed, correct?"
"That is correct, sir."
Quinton lowered the drink from his mouth and put the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray. He really appreciated the immediate updates Emily was able to give him, but he was in a very tight spot now. The information coming into his ship was on an unofficial frequency, meaning anyone could have sent it. Why anyone would fake a transmission like this, Quinton had no idea, but there many things in the financial realm the ambitious reporter didn't know about.
The reason this was a tight spot was because he had the opportunity to be the first person to tell the President of the Republic the awful news. His sources told him that President Snotzenexer had invested heavily in the small shield manufacturing company on Rembon and was counting on its existence to be the backbone for his new health and drug administration. This banquet was in celebration of the bill that passed to create this organization, and now it might all come crashing down.
To be the first reporter to break the story would definitely secure him a substantial retirement fund from his employers, but if he was wrong and ruined this banquet because of a false rumor, he would be finished.
Quinton's search of the hall had finally found the president. The young man took a deep breath, brought his hand up to scratch next to his eye, and whispered into his cufflink. "Start recording, Emily. I'm going to do it."
Quinton snagged a full drink from a different waiter, quaffed it in a quick gulp, and replaced it on the same tray before the waiter took two steps. Checking his tux one last time, Quinton began the process of working his way into the ever-growing circle surrounding Snotzenexer.
"That might be true, President, but things don't always work in the real world like they work on paper." The conversation was in full swing when Quinton entered the scene.
"You're right, and I'm sure the administration will meet some resistance from planets not ready to overhaul their medical establishments. The one thing you might not understand is that I'm not trying to regulate each planet's current system. I am only making this alternative available to struggling medical communities. I expect quite a few planets will not feel the need to use this new administration to replace their old medical suppliers, but there are far more planets than I am even aware of, on which citizens of the Republic are dying by the thousands because they can not receive the medical attention they need."
"How are you going to be able to meet the initial demand?" another senator asked. "I have no doubt that in time this administration will grow large enough encompass the entire Republic, but initially you will be forced to pick and choose between planets in need of help."
"Yes, there will be an incredible initial demand, and this administration is going to start from ground zero. That is why we need the farming community to step up and support the change. I believe that if we are able to get enough bacta growing shields in service within the Republic, we will at least be able to address the initial demand."
"Are you sure Rembon is safe enough to be the main supplier, since it is not even a member world?" Quinton asked, seeing his opportunity to enter the conversation.
Snotzenexer could tell from the looks of the dozen senators in the ring that this young man was not one of them. "I'm sorry," Snotzenexer asked him, "I don't believe we've met before."
"My name is Quinton Vermil," Quinton responded, glad he could work his name into this recording.
"From . . ." Snotzenexer prompted, wishing to know the planet from which this would-be senator hailed.
"I'm not a senator, sir. I'm a," Quinton paused, "guest."
"A reporter," one of the senators near Snotzenexer mumbled.
Snotzenexer smiled at the reality as it was made known to him. He was new to this social circus, but he was getting the hang of it quickly. "Are you looking for a quote to print for tomorrow?"
"He's probably recording this whole conversation," one of the senators laughed.
You're right, Quinton thought to himself, and I'll edit that comment out.
"To answer your question," Snotzenexer proceeded, "I don't have the ability to move it. Though I have become part owner in Custom Shields Galactica through my bank's recent investment in the small company, I am not the president. And unless the current president decides to sell the position to me or drops dead of a heart attack, I am bound to operate within his regulations."
The reality of the situation hit Quinton like a ton of permacrete. Or at least part of the reality hit him. The news he had of CSG's destruction wasn't really bad news, it simply meant that Snotzenexer was now the sole proprietor of the company and could do with it as he saw fit. The fact that the company no longer physically existed didn't matter to someone like Snotzenexer. Like so many things the president organized, CSG existed on paper, and that would be enough for him.
The part of the reality that didn't quite make its way through the young reporter's reasoning was that before Snotzenexer invested in the company and made it tradable on the galactic stock market, it did not exist outside Rembon. If it had been destroyed then, there would be no transfer of power and the patent on the shield would have been lost. Right now, Snotzenexer had all the records from the extinct company and could continue with production in the Varion system as if nothing had happened.
This part of the reality also gave Snotzenexer a heck of a motive for taking out the company. This tid-bit of information would be conveniently over-looked by just about everyone who analyzed the situation in the following weeks and months.
"Are you aware of the news coming out of Rembon as of half an hour ago?" Quinton asked, his voice on the edge of nervousness.
Snotzenexer was surprised that the news of Harmeon's attack had gotten out of the isolated planet so quickly. "I'm afraid not, I've been here all night."
Quinton noticed he was suddenly the center of attention. He knew something that the President of the Republic, whom many believed to be the smartest person in the galaxy, did not know. "The word is that there has been an attack on Custom Shields Galactica, and the entire factory has been destroyed."
"A rumor!" one of the senators quickly said, not wanting to believe it.
"A fact!" a new voice said confidently. All eyes turned to the new speaker and watched as Norric Harmeon strolled into the ring and stood right across from Snotzenexer and Sanson.
Eran was happy with everyone's reaction to his disguise. He had spent five hours preparing the synthetic face, something he had done many times in his former job. He was a couple centimeters taller than Harmeon, but beside that, he doubted if the man's own parents could see through the disguise.
Eran had been waiting on the edge of the small gathering for a chance to enter the conversation. Quinton's revelation had been the perfect opportunity. He was pretty sure that Harmeon had been responsible for the attack, and the look he was receiving from Sanson told him the female admiral had believed the man she was now looking at to be dead. This meant that she, and ultimately Snotzenexer, had placed ships at Rembon to counter Harmeon's forces and that she had received report that the president of Xucphra had been killed. The fact that the factory was still destroyed must mean that Snotzenexer had planned it, because Eran didn't doubt for a moment in the former Imperial's ability to defeat a bunch of mercenaries.
Eran decided to speak quickly while his audience was still confused. "As you all know, I am the president of Xucphra, the largest bacta producer in the galaxy. Many people in my company believe that this new administration will spell doom for us. I personally feel that we are simply going to be the first in a constantly growing industry. As the charter members, we will be able to lead the way into this new era and expand upon our already profitable business.
"As I said before, sadly some in my company do not believe that we will survive this change in bacta availability and took it in their hands to try and eliminate the competition. I was just made aware less than an hour ago that certain Xucphra officials hired a fleet of mercenary ships to attack the factory on Rembon."
Eran looked Snotzenexer in eyes, confident behind his disguise. "I know that we were at odds over the passage of this bill, but like I said, I am willing to work with you. I sincerely hope that the Republic forces that repelled my misguided associates, will show them you are not to be trifled with, and we will be able to put an end to these hostilities."
The senators were in shock. Did this man just say that Rembon had been defended with a Republic fleet? Eran soaked up the intense stares like a sponge as he walked up to Snotzenexer. "I want to put an end to our bickering right now." Eran extended his hand to the Republic President. The former admiral took it cautiously, not sure what to believe.
Sanson too was shocked, but she hid it much worse than her husband did. Eran turned to her as well and kissed her hand. "I must say," he turned back to Snotzenexer, not willing to pass up this opportunity, "your wife looks beautiful tonight."
The comment took Sanson completely off guard and triggered her recently acquired maternal instincts. As her right hand was still being released from Eran's soft grasp, her left found its way to her ever-so-slightly-swelled stomach.
Eran caught the motion and his sixth sense picked up on the implication. "And I do wish you two the best of luck. It must be exciting to be expecting amidst this already joyous occasion."
Snotzenexer's rigid composure was failing fast. He needed to salvage this situation, but this stranger - he no longer held any doubts that it wasn't Harmeon - left him no room in the conversation. "I'm sorry I can't stay longer," Eran said as he slowly backed away from Snotzenexer, "but my ship is waiting for me. It's the one that looks nothing like an asteroid." Eran grinned widely at the realization that dawned on both Sanson and Snotzenexer's face when they realized who he really was. His strange comment had been a paraphrase of what Snotzenexer had last said to Eran over a month ago when he had been given the assignment to steal the financial records.
As a look of unbridled fury crossed Sanson's face, Eran made a quick exit.
"What did he mean by that?" Quinton asked, having no idea what had just transpired.
The rest of the senators were too dumbstruck to know what to say. The bell saved the situation as the dinner chimes sounded. Everyone quickly dispersed to their appointed tables far from each other.
Snotzenexer had to concentrate to keep his mind on what he was doing. He was supposed to give a speech to the assembly in a few minutes and needed to remain focused. He was sure the blasted reporter had gotten everything on tape from Eran's reference to a Republic fleet guarding Rembon to Sanson's unconscious motion to their unborn child. All it would take is a remote medical scan by another curious reporter and not only would the pregnancy be confirmed but the President of the Republic would be confirmed as the father. Snotzenexer briefly tried to laugh as he hoped Sanson had been cheating on him.
He had already publicly declared that he hadn't met Sanson, and now it would be revealed that he was married to her, or at least sleeping with her. Thanks to Eran's comment about the fleet, there would no doubt be an investigation into whether there was a Republic fleet at Rembon. The fact of the situation would be revealed. A fleet controlled by Sanson, the mother of his child, protected his personal investment on a non-Republic world.
This was just great.
Chapter 18
"Situation Evaluation"Luke awoke to an odd sensation.
Back on Yavin IV Luke had often found the need to shut his mind from the incessant Force chatter that existed when you gathered several dozen adolescent Force users together. He had been away from his Academy for so long that he no longer spent his nights deaf to the Force. What he felt now reminded him why it had been necessary to shut off his students before.
Someone on the ship was having a bad nightmare. Luke was almost positive it was not Anakin. Though the young Solo had been through a lot in his young life, he had not been involved in any very traumatic events. The other Force user on the Jade's fire had a many more excuses for a nightmare.
The ship was cold and quiet as Luke crept from his quarters. The hyperspace engine hummed rhythmically, making it sound like the ship was alive. The Jedi Master's bare feet wished that Mara had taken the time to carpet the ship some time in the past, but in truth, after what Luke had been through on Hoth, it would take more than cold, durasteel floors to make the Jedi really uncomfortable.
Mara's quarters were right next to the cockpit, and Luke threw a quick look at the hyperspace display to see that there was just under two hours left in their flight before reaching Yavin IV. Even before Luke mentally deactivated the alarms Mara had set up about her door and opened the portal quietly, he could feel the mental anguish from the private quarters.
Luke looked carefully into the dark room from the ship's main hallway. He could barely see a sleeping form in a bed in the corner of the room, but as the figure rolled over suddenly, a wave of disturbed emotions hit him, and he was assured it was Mara. Luke walked cautiously into the room as the door slid closed behind him. The noise of the sliding door almost covered up the slight wiring noises from both Luke's left and right.
The Jedi Master jumped forward, rolling into a crouch as two stun bolts sped through his previous area, splashing into the floor. Luke took a deep breath, looking at the stun guns hidden behind fake plants. He had thought he had disabled all of Mara's booby traps before entering. He would be more careful next time - if there was a next time.
Luke turned back to look at the bed and saw Mara kneeling on top of her sheets, wearing a nightgown and pointing a blaster at the intruder. Mara lowered the weapon just enough for Luke to see the expression on her face as she spoke. "Come on in, Skywalker. Make yourself at home. I was just thinking about how much I wanted to see you."
Luke never ceased to be amazed at how easily this woman could put him off guard. Luke had fought against countless Dark Jedi and Emperor look-a-likes, always winning in the end, and here he was, caught totally off guard by someone who was dead to the world not two seconds ago.
"You were having a -"
"A dream," Mara finished for him, trying to make Luke understand how stupid this piece of obvious information was. "And no, you were not in it."
"Well, I thought from all the dark images you were projecting that I had to be."
Mara lowered her weapon completely, taking the sarcastic comment for what it was worth. She also realized that she had woken Luke with her dream, and Anakin, despite the youth's ability to keep others out of his mind, was probably experiencing less than pleasant dreams because of her nightmare.
"It was that Zrobina thing you talked about earlier, right?"
"Zorian," Mara corrected as she placed her blaster back beneath her pillow and relaxed to a sitting position on the bed. "And, yes, it was."
"Any new information?" Luke asked, sitting on the corner of the bed.
"Only that this entity or event is coming soon and it has a lot to do with you and me."
"Let me see if I remember the premise of the dream," Luke said slowly. "You are on a barren rock covered world, and the Emperor stalks you, screaming that the Zorian is coming."
"In a nutshell," Mara complied. She paused briefly in thought and pounded her pillow in frustration. "If he would just tell me what it was or when it was coming, I could do something about it. As it is, I'm too busy with Snotzenexer and that whole circus to give this Zorian thing any attention. I just get this creepy feeling that the Zorian is going to be a much bigger threat to me."
"You keep using first person pronouns," Luke said carefully. "Don't forget that we are a team. I don't just mean you and me," Mara gave him a smirk, "but all of us. What ever attacks you attacks us all."
"We'll see about that," Mara replied, glancing at her bedside chrono and deciding to forgo her last hour of sleep. "In the mean time," Mara said, slowly climbing off her bed, "I'd like to get dressed and ready for the day. So if you don't mind . . ."
Luke rose from the bed and bowed in mock respect. "I was just leaving."
Ten minutes later Mara excited her room and Luke quickly evacuated the captain's chair and sat in the copilot's chair. Mara sat next to him without a word and checked her systems. The cloaking shield was still activated and showed no signs of failing. The hyperspace timer showed a little more than an hour left in their trip, and Mara could sense the other three occupants on the ship waking from their slumber.
"Tell me about Snotzenexer and his circus," Luke requested, repeating the comment Mara had made earlier.
"I haven't followed it as closely as I should have been recently," Mara admitted. "I'm sorry, but I was too busy trying to rescue your frozen butt. What I do know is that he is the President and more popular than your sister was when she first took office. He controls the military through an Admiral Sanson with whom he served under Tallon and Thrawn back at the Dark Ring. Sanson has recently been promoted to the top spot in the military due to the disparity of strong leaders after Antilles."
"What's wrong with Wedge?" Luke asked.
"Snotzenexer worked to have all of the old military leaders quietly retired. After Leia's expulsion and your exile, the public was made to believe they wanted a clean break in leadership. Wedge was the last remnant of the old Republic and when he was asked to retire, he resisted. Snotzenexer sent some ships after him with unfriendly intentions. When he and I took the ships out, Wedge was labeled as a traitor and is now on the black list.
"Beyond the military, he has recreated the trade federation to oversee the trade between member worlds, reducing the tariffs and increasing the flow of food to poverty stricken planets. He is also making a move to redefine bacta's role in the galaxy. I don't know the exact details on what he's achieved because it came to a head a few days ago when I was busy with this rescue. I assume the bacta corporations were unsuccessful in preventing his legislation from passing and he now has control of that as well, or at least will soon."
"So the situation is basically 'not good,'" Luke summarized. Mara merely nodded.
The rest of the ship's population slowly filtered their way into the small cockpit and overflowed in to the nearby kitchenette. After Mara was satisfied with her ship's status, she joined the four passengers around the breakfast table.
Ra'tok and Thomas had struck up an unusual friendship in the short while the group had been together. The former Imperial captain was fascinated with the Defel's mysterious race and intriguing lifestyle.
Anakin joined in the conversation very little and, Mara began to have doubts as to the young Solo's usefulness in the upcoming struggle. The youth had undeniable skills in ever category imaginable from flying to fighting to computers, but he rarely did anything on his own. Mara had found that he needed to be given an assignment first. In the next few months, the band Mara was forming would have to work on their own a great deal.
"While we're all together," Mara said during a break in the conversation, "there's a few things I want to make clear. We are all dead. The Star Destroyers patrolling the Hoth system will report back to Snotzenexer that this ship was destroyed and everyone with it. Luke is still on Hoth, Thomas is still forgotten, and the rest of us died when an asteroid collided with us in hyperspace. At no time, for a very long time, can any of us be seen by anyone outside of our circle.
"Luke and I are capable of disguising our appearance, as I'm sure you are," she added, looking at Anakin. The Jedi nodded. "Ra'tok can become invisible easily, though even when visible, I doubt you will be identified by anyone in Snotzenexer's employ. I doubt anyone will recognize you," Mara turned to Thomas. She had seen pictures of the Imperial captain thirty years ago and couldn't make a connection with the man now in front of her.
"This ship is also non-existent," Anakin spoke up.
Mara nodded. She had conceded the point long ago that she would have to find a new ship if she planned on helping out with the rebellion she planned. Sure the ship could be cloaked and still flown by a Jedi, but Mara couldn't expect the oddity of her landing and magically appearing out of nothing to anyone who saw her disembark to go unnoticed for long. "Yes," she said aloud, "I will find a new ship."
The talk continued at a subdued level, everyone curious with what was going to happen next. Mara seemed to have taken the reigns of the slowly growing group gathered on Yavin IV, and she had no idea what to do next.
Half an hour later, the Jade's Fire made its last landing for a very long time. The small group left the no longer cloaked ship and made their way to one of the rebuilt buildings on the jungle moon. Mara cast a mournful glance back at her ship sitting on an over-grown landing site where it was out of the way. She sighed deeply, having a sinking feeling that this was only one of the many sacrifices she was going to have to make if she continued in this effort.
Luke put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on." Mara took his gentleness in stride and turned her back on her ship without looking back.
Mara had been in contact with Leia before they had landed and the former Republic president, Chewie, and a few students were eagerly waiting for Luke. Brother and sister hugged each other emotionally just outside the main building. Leia cried freely, and Luke supported his sister through the minute long embrace. "How are you holding up?" Luke asked after the greeting, holding his sister at arm's length.
"I'm feeling much better now, though . . ." Leia's face suddenly fell as she remembered Jacen.
The look on Luke's face as he privately communicated with Leia reminded Mara that she had forgotten to tell Luke about Jacen's death. Luke took the news well, not having expected it, but letting it fall in place next to the other bad news he was continuosly learning. "Don't worry Leia," Luke said, resuming the embrace, "we will not let his death go in vain. We will see justice done, and his killers punished." Luke had little doubt Snotzenexer had had a hand in the Jedi's death.
"Already did it," a surprisingly up-beat voice announced from the doorway to the building.
Leia looked at the speaker and rolled her eyes. Trince walked up to the group wearing a smile despite the sorrowful expressions of those around him. "I already enacted justice upon the murderer, and now that you're here, we can continue the fight against the enemy."
Luke was taken totally by surprise by the odd emotions emitted from his former student. This was not the same person he had sent with Lando to the asteroid mine over two months ago. His words were the first thing that caught Luke off-guard. The words "enacted justice" sounded almost comical. One enacted revenge, not justice. Justice wasn't so much an action as it was a state of existence. Also, the way Trince proclaimed that they were ready to "continue the fight against the enemy," gave Luke the impression that Trince didn't so much want to see Snotzenexer removed from power as he wanted to simply fight.
The Jedi Master looked questionably back at Mara, hoping for some kind of explanation for his behavior. Mara shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what was bothering the troubled Jedi.
Trince saw the exchange and realized that even thought the master of this academy was back, the leadership had not changed, and the present state of inactivity would probably continue. With an audible huff, Trince turned about and reentered the building. He was quickly deciding that if the group wasn't going to take action against the evil in the galaxy, he was going to have to act alone.
"He's been like that ever since our ordeal in Coruscant."
Luke turned to see Han and Lando approaching from another direction. Anakin and Luke greeted family and friend in turn. "I have no idea what happened to him," Han continued, "but he has been very aggressive and emotionally distraught."
"He doesn't feel Dark," Luke hypothesized, "just in a very bad mood." Luke thought about it for a while when another thought hit him. "Where's Jaina?"
The lack of an immediate response told Luke something was not right with his niece. "Come with me," Han said.
* * *
Forty minutes later they were all inside. Mara stood at the front of the small classroom looking at the group assembled before her. So far, no one had challenged her for leadership of the motley crew leaving her in control. It wasn't like she had any real authority or push; she was just trying to be the organizer. She alone had the best cumulative knowledge of the group, and was also the only one who had not yet been defeated by Snotzenexer in some facet.
Even though she wasn't expected by those in front of her to win any wars or lead any battles, Mara felt the stress of her situation profoundly. Like Trince, she knew something had to be done, but unlike the restless Jedi, she wanted to make sure the plan of action was what was needed. Mara had never been so confident in a group's abilities yet so uncertain of the outcome. Mara slowly scanned the room, taking a good inventory of who was present.
Luke was still in a subdued state of shock. He hadn't kept abreast of the financial or social aspects of Snotzenexer's take-over before he was exiled, and had obviously missed everything since. Now to be hit with the state of galactic affairs, such as it was, all at once was very disturbing. That coupled with the condition of the twins and of his Academy shook the Jedi Master to the core. Still, Mara could see determination in the man's face that she hadn't seen since Mount Tantiss. He might have lost a battle with the new president, but the Jedi Master was prepared for at least a dozen more rounds.
Han had a very sobering look on his face. He and Lando were the only ones who could truly appreciate the group's condition. Just about everyone in the room had faced tough odds, but these two had not only made a living at beating the odds, but had prospered. The two of them would likely be the driving force of this new rebellion and without key contributions from them, Mara did not like the group's chances. As much friction as she had had with the pair in the past, Mara couldn't think of two people she'd rather have on her side.
Leia was a mixture of emotions. A month ago she had been the President of the Republic with a healthy family and a promising retirement around the corner. Then within a three days she lost two children, a husband, a brother, a lifestyle, and all support. Even though she was slowly regaining her lost family and some of her composure, she was not in a very stable emotional state. What help she could be in the upcoming fight, Mara did not know.
Wedge and Perry sat at rigid attention, eagerly awaiting to hear what Mara was going to say as if they were two ambitious cadets preparing for a training exercise. Mara actually wished that one of the men would step up to the front of the room and take over the responsibilities of leadership. It would be too much to ask of them though. They were both incredible commanders and excellent pilots, but what this group needed was coordination and diversity. If they had a group of ships with which to fight against the powers at be, Mara would gladly turn over command. Instead, they had nothing. It was no different than when Mon Mothma and Leia led the Rebels some thirty years ago and people like Ackbar took a back seat.
Sitting behind the military leaders were the remaining two members of the 185th. They had all arrived back at the Academy shortly after Mara and her bunch. They brought with them more down cast faces - not quite what the group needed. Mara deeply regretted loosing the group's best pilot, but, at the same time, could now see that Vince and Bep were doubly motivated to succeed, and whoa to any TIE that ran into them.
Sitting near the back was Thomas Thorin. Mara knew little about him, only that he had been one of the up-and-coming military leaders in the Empire back when she had worked for the Emperor. That he had a great analytical mind was not in question. How well he would function after thirty years on an ice ball was yet to be seen. Right now, he was reading a datapad. Ever since he had gotten off the Jade's fire almost an hour ago, he had requested all the information on the current state of affairs he could get his hands on.
In the front of the classroom (probably for legroom's sake) sat Chewie and Ra'tok. Both of them had proven themselves to be very valuable assets either as copilots or as fighting companions. Though they were both very different in race and background, they both shared the same honor code and fighting prowess. That the group was much better off with them was not in question. How best they could be used in the upcoming fight, however, was yet to be seen.
Next to the furry friends was Anakin. He was still a mystery to Mara. He had been toted as the most powerful force user since Vader, yet his siblings had outshined him in every aspect so far, gaining dozens of accomplishments while the youngest Solo sat on his hands. In the next several months, Anakin was going to have to make up for lost time with both of his siblings out of commission and the group in desperate need of Jedi skills.
Lastly there was Trince. The Jedi was pacing in the back of the room, far too fidgety to sit still for a moment. Mara knew from what Han told her that the young man had undergone some very traumatic events in the bowels of Coruscant and Mara didn't even want to imagine what they could have been to turn the Jedi into what he now was. Luke and Anakin both felt that he wasn't Dark, but Mara had her doubts. After all, Luke had spent a long time with C'bouth training under him without realizing his Dark intentions until the end. Senator Palpatine had also remained incognito in the midst of a dozen Jedi Masters. Often, if a Dark Jedi keeps his skills under wraps, not drawing on the Force in the presence of others, his temperament is hard to discern. Whether Dark or Light, Mara knew whose side Trince was on, and she wished desperately to give the Jedi something to do, but there was nothing.
"I guess the best way to begin this session is to start off with what we know. How much about what Snotzenexer is doing do we really know?"
"Everything."
All heads turned to the back of the room to look at the speaker. Thomas looked up from his datapad. "We know everything."
"What can we do?" Mara asked, wondering if she had just relinquished her role as leader.
"Nothing."
The audible sigh of disgust from the pacing Jedi in the rear hung heavy in the room. Similar mumblings made their way through the group. Was he trying to say we should give up? "Explain," Mara requested plainly.
"Admiral Alexander Snotzenexer was a commander in the Imperial fleet no less then two months ago. He led the attack against this Academy, effectively destroying it. He escaped from the Danzig system when the Dark Ring was destroyed and then from Hastrin when it too was destroyed. He hid in the Varion system for about three weeks.
"In a move that shocked the sector, an unknown entrepreneur by the name of Alex Snotzenexer was named the President of the Varion Imperial Bank on Iom. Shortly after spontaneously selling the bank presidency to Snotzenexer the former president died of a heart attack blamed on stress. In an apparently unrelated incident, one of the two assistants to the bank president died in a boating accident. The other assistant continued work under the new president but hasn't been heard of or seen since the transfer of power.
"The president made some bold moves in his first few days, one of which took advantage of an unpredicted terrorist attack on an entertainment industry. Shortly after his new position was secured with the press and public alike, he managed to convince the governors in the Varion system to join the Republic and get him appointed as the senator.
"Meanwhile, a terrible natural disaster occurred in the Denorid system, for which president Leia Organa-Solo took most of the blame. Also, due to a freak mining accident, the reality of the Republic's financial situation was made known and the galaxy went into momentary chaos.
"Enter Senator Snotzenexer. The bank president uses his bank's weight to back all of the existing loans, and quickly puts an end to all runs against the fifty-some thousand credits in the Republic's bank account. He is seen as a hero. Out goes Leia; in comes Alex. With the new president comes Imperial defectors that just happened to be hiding in the Varion system for who knows how long.
"As president, Snotzenexer immediately begins to reshape the structure of the galaxy. He deprivatizes the military, trade, and health care, putting all of them under direct government control. The financial situation he set up dictates that in order to be successful, you have to have money invested in him or you won't grow with the rest of the economy. He reinstated taxation among the member worlds and took over the food distribution market.
"In the end, he directly controls all the money, food, military, trade, medicine, and, most importantly, the citizens' hearts. He has more power and control over the galaxy than the Emperor ever had. The Emperor ruled by fear. The people only obeyed him when he was looking. Now, people are bending over backwards for Snotzenexer, happy to do what ever he suggests.
"In all this, there is only one problem keeping us from action: he hasn't done anything wrong with his new position yet. He broke countless laws, killing millions to get his position, but now that he has it, he hasn't done anything wrong yet. Until he makes an Imperial move, there's nothing we can do that will be supported by others."
Everyone was quiet after this speech, soaking up all of the information, some new some old. Han was the first to speak. "I guess the one question I have is this: is he going to do something Imperial? I was a doubter to begin with, seeing him as just a bank president who was good at what he does. I realize now how wrong I was, but at the same time wonder if the game is up. I mean, why go through all this trouble to rebuild the galaxy only to send it back to the time of the Empire?"
"You answered your own question, Han," Mara replied. "Why go through all this trouble unless he was going to do something drastic. If all he wanted was money and power, he could have stayed in the Varion system and gotten all he wanted. No, he's got to have something sneaky planned, otherwise - like you said - why go through all the trouble."
"If we wait for him to do something, won't that be too late?" Vince asked.
"The penalty for being late is much less than the penalty for being early," Thorin answered, appreciating the intelligent question. "Right now he is untouchable, much like Palpatine when he was first elected chancellor. He is respected by all and looked upon as a righteous man. If we move against him now, while he has the support of the entire galaxy, we don't stand a chance. On the other hand, if we wait for him to start using the military inappropriately, or for him to start raising taxes to an intolerable level, we will have a much larger following. Granted, after he makes his move, he will be further entrenched, but we have to be careful not to make a ourselves out to be the badguys, and if we move against him now, that's exactly how the rest of the galaxy will see us."
Throughout the entire discussion, and the continuing questions and answers, Trince was seething. He had hoped this meeting would bring some action, but it looked like everyone was just going to sit around and wait. He wasn't going to wait. As soon as he could, he was going to get away from these pacifists and start doing some real Jedi work. They called themselves the protectors of the galaxy, but here was an obvious threat, and they were just going to let it fester until it became worthy of their attention. Trince had other plans.
* * *
The jungle moon was dark and quiet. At least it was quiet in comparison to daytime. With the incessant squeaking and cricking of the moon's insect population, the Academy never knew true peace and quiet, but as Trince crept toward the Skipray Blastboat Wedge had stolen from Commander Pearson, the Academy was as quiet as it would ever be.
Over the years that the Academy had been in operation, the wildlife on Yavin IV had adapted to the student population with which it had been forced to exist. In particular, the very sensitive insects had become accustomed to the buzz in the air whenever a Jedi used the force. Insect's antennae were incredibly sensitive to power fluctuations in the air, and Force energy was no different. In fact, since Luke tried to promote the Light side of the Force, containing mostly feelings of love, joy, and peace, the energy fluctuations that the insects were forced to live with were very positive.
Now, as Trince crept through the night, he was emitting very inharmonious energy fluctuations. These negative energy waves silenced the mating chirps and the overall buzz of activity normal in the wildlife community at night. If Trince noticed the unusual silence, he paid it no mind.
The blastboat was not locked down and Trince boarded the craft with little difficulty. The medium size ship was normally piloted by at least two people, but a skilled pilot could fly one by himself, and a Jedi could fly one in his sleep. Trince busied himself with all of the preflight checks before igniting the engines, wanting to take off as soon as possible after the initial announcement of his presence.
Unknown to Trince, Luke had been watching his progress for the last few minutes. Now as Trince was in the ship, Luke patiently waited for the engines to ignite and for the ship to blast off. Every common sense instinct told Luke to stop the youth before he went and did something rash, but every teacher's instinct he had told him to let the Jedi go. Luke had seen many students of his run off to go save the world or find themselves, only to have them come back within a month, apologetic and wiser for their ways. Luke only hoped that this would be the case with Trince as well. If Luke had known what was actually going to happen, the Jedi Master would have done everything in his power to keep the Jedi on the moon, up to fighting and killing him.
The engines of the powerful ship roared to life, scattering what silent wildlife had been in the area. Moments later, the Skipray Blastboat shot up into the sky and out into space.
Anakin walked up behind his uncle as they both looked out of the window in the dormitory. "He's going to kill someone," Anakin said with a calm voice.
Luke looked at him startled. "Are you sure?"
Anakin nodded his head.
"Who?"
"Himself."
Chapter 19
"Victimization"Snotzenexer paced nervously in his presidential office. His wife was very busy right now, answering a multitude of questions and trying to salvage a bad situation. Snotzenexer knew his time would come soon too, and he had still not figured out how he should play it. After Eran's little revelation at the banquet two days ago, the media was a buzz with rumors, scandals, and lies.
The one thing Snotzenexer had going for him was the general public was not the mass media. The mass media thrived on controversy. If a story was juicy and provocative, no matter how truthful, the media ate it up. They looked at it from every possible angle, trying to figure out how best they could milk it for every credit it was worth. The public would much rather have mediocrity. Once you got past the small percentage of the population that enjoyed watching chaos on the news, the rest of the galaxy preferred a much more stable environment in which to live.
The public didn't want to believe what the media was telling them involving Snotzenexer, Sanson, and the attack on Custom Shields Galactica. Some of the stories were moderate, giving only the facts, but most tried to twist the story into a gross exaggeration, often closer to the truth than not. Rumors went from Snotzenexer being a former Imperial Admiral and secretly in command of the military through his wife Admiral Sanson to Snotzenexer wishing to return the government to the time of the Emperor Palpatine.
Snotzenexer shuddered as he read these, wondering who in the media had such insight. In truth, the worst Snotzenexer expected was a slap on the wrist saying, "Don't do it again." He figured the Republic enjoyed having him as their president, and wasn't he just protecting the Republic's future by fighting off Harmeon's forces. The argument will be made that if Snotzenexer thought the factory was in danger, he should have requested military protection and he would have gotten it. The problem with that is the approval for protection would have come from the senate, the proceedings of which are not private. If Harmeon saw that Rembon was going to be protected, he would have never attacked, and the factory would still be standing with Harmeon and his minions still at large.
Snotzenexer was still trying to figure out the safest way through this crisis when a small alarm went off on his desk. Puzzled, the president walked over to his desk and checked the readout on his computer.
Snotzenexer had developed the habit of keeping track of certain ship transponder codes so he knew when certain people arrived on or left Coruscant. Right now his computer was telling him that the Skipray Blastboat Wedge Antilles had stolen was landing in a hangar not too far from the palace.
Snotzenexer forgot about his problems for a moment, curious about who was paying him a visit. After punching through a few codes and databases, Snotzenexer pulled up a live picture from one of the security cameras in the hangar. The president watched as a lone figure emerged from the ship. Snotzenexer played with a few different camera locations and angles until a he got a clear picture of the man's face.
The face seemed familiar, but Snotzenexer couldn't quite place it. Keeping a window open in a tracking program that would jump from camera to camera as the visitor made his way to the palace, Snotzenexer accessed another database, pulling up a list of students enrolled at the Jedi Academy. After breezing through the current enrollment, he looked at the recent list of graduates.
"Trince Allister," Snotzenexer read aloud. "Last known to have been employed by Lando Calarissian on a mining expedition." Snotzenexer watched the cameras as they followed Trince up to the outside of the palace. "What do you want, my Jedi friend?"
Snotzenexer watched closely as Trince made his way toward a restricted entrance. Without proper senatorial ID, no one was aloud in that entrance. Snotzenexer watched as the two guards exchanged words with Trince, denying him access. Just as it looked like the Jedi was going to force his way in, the camera went dead.
"Up to no good, are we Jedi?"
The tracking program declared there was an error and the subject was lost. Snotzenexer quickly executed a probability function, letting the computer guess which camera would have been next in the tracking sequence if the subject remained on his current course. Sure enough, Trince walked into the view of an internal camera that monitored a section of the senate chambers.
Snotzenexer only continued to watch long enough to see that Trince was headed his way before he began to prepare for the visit. As Snotzenexer turned off his computer and went around disengaging all the other electronic equipment in his office, his mind began to formulate his new strategy concerning the CSG Scandal. Unless things went terribly wrong in the next five minutes, it could be saved.
It wasn't too long before Snotzenexer heard some commotion outside his office. Skywalker had tried this type of entrance almost three weeks ago and had failed miserably. From the sounds of things, Trince was having more success. Snotzenexer heard the snap hiss of a lightsaber, a few blaster shots, a couple jagged screams, and then silence.
The door to the presidential office slid open and Trince strode in. The President of the Republic was seated comfortably in his high-backed office chair, reclining dangerously backwards. "Do come in Jedi."
Trince was startled by the president's unusual calm. The Jedi was panting, lightsaber in hand, and had just killed seventeen guards. The preceding group of guards had warned each new post he arrived at of his approach. Surely the president should have been warned of his approach a long time ago, yet here he sat apparently unprepared for his imminent death.
Trince didn't want to waste his good luck, knowing that dozen's of guards were about to come racing up behind him any minute. The Jedi stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and locked it. "Do you know why I'm here?"
Snotzenexer shivered at the sound of his visitor's voice. The Jedi couldn't be more than twenty-five, but his voice sounded like a twelve decade old man who had smoked a carton a day all his life. "I have a reasonable guess."
"Then make peace with what ever you serve," Trince declared as he rushed towards his enemy.
"Wait!" Snotzenexer screamed, not acting in the slightest. He hadn't thought the Jedi would be so forward. He had expected a mini trial of some sort first. Trince held up, wondering what the doomed man wanted. "At least give me the chance to defend myself."
Trince sighed, but decided to humor the man. Snotzenexer got up and retrieved a decorative sword from the wall where it had been displayed with a matching blade. "You expect to fight me with that?" Trince nearly laughed out loud.
"Not exactly," Snotzenexer replied. "I planned on using this." The Republic President reached into his pocket, pulled out a small metal ball and pressed a button.
Trince was not expecting anything at all. His lightsaber suddenly tremorred. The blade lost all stability, swiveling about the focusing crystal like a ball on the end of a string before the weapon exploded in a powerful blast.
The bright light and smoke blinded Snotzenexer momentarily, and the shock of the explosion threw him off his feet. He quickly got up and walked over to Trince. The Jedi was barely alive. The haywire blade had cut into his body numerous times, slicing deep into his side, shoulder, and leg. His right arm was severed completely just below the elbow, plus his whole right side was charred from the blast.
"Wha-" Trince tried to ask, the edge from his voice lost.
"It's called an electromagnetic pulse," Snotzenexer said slowly and clearly. "An electromagnetic pulse, EMP, is the short, powerful electromagnetic field produced by atmospheric ionization during the explosion of a nuclear weapon, or a simulated reaction. When a rapidly moving particle, such as an electron, an alpha particle, or a quantum of radiant energy, collides with a gas atom, an electron is ejected from the atom, leaving a charged ion. The ions render the gas conductive. An EMP may extend long distances, depending on the height of the burst, and can severely damage electronic equipment.
"You see, electronic equipment depends on the microchip, a very small piece of silicon with thousands of circuitry paths. But when the atmosphere around the microchip becomes conductive from the ionization of the gas atoms, the paths of electricity are moot, and the microchip short circuits.
"Lightsabers suffer from EMP at a catastrophic level, as you just discovered. The focusing crystal in your weapon was oriented with a small calculating device. When it short circuited, the crystal briefly oriented itself in every possible angle before the blade cut through the main power supply and exploded."
Trince was moments from death, experiencing again that agonizing moment balancing above the precipice. The rage inside him was climaxing, desperately needing to vent against this pompous man above him. Snotzenexer saw the flicker of anger cross Trince's face and wasted no time slamming his sword into the dying Jedi's chest.
The penned up energy exploded outward, tossing Snotzenexer like a rag doll across his office. He slammed against the far wall, and a searing bolt of pain shot through his shoulder. Snotzenexer crawled weakly over to his desk, opened a drawer, and removed a laser cutter. With two quick motions, he cut his side and slashed his arm. He placed the cutter back in his desk and crawled back to the wall, where he passed out from the pain and exertion.
* * *
"Good evening, Coruscant. We're here tonight with Senator Ellynor Belsiphvin. Senator Belsiphvin, it's good to have you on the show."
"It's good to be here, Rellin. This government wants to stay in touch with its people."
"I'm sure it does. And I'm sure we all want to see this crisis come to an end as quickly as possible."
"I'm not so sure I would call it a crisis, Rellin. After all, isn't the Republic in its best shape in decades?"
"Yes it is, but so soon after Organa-Solo left office under less than normal circumstances, this incident with Custom Shields Galactica comes as a bit of a shock to everyone. We all thought the use of our military for private matters was over."
"I can assure you and the audience that the Republic military is under the control of the government - the entire government - and President Snotzenexer has no more influence over it than he should."
"You said that very well, Senator. He 'has no more influence over it than he should.' How much influence should he have over the military?"
"These last few weeks have been very exciting, Rellin. A lot has happened and many things have been influenced by these happenings. It is very hard for the average citizen - and even the average senator - to keep track of everything. During this time of organized chaos, President Snotzenexer has been the one person able to make sense of everything. The universe has turned upside down in the last month and it is only because of President Snotzenexer that the galaxy came through the ordeal better than when it had started."
"That hardly answers my question, Senator."
"But it does. Snotzenexer was the only person who understood the events leading up to the attack at Rembon well enough to act. And what did he do? He merely made sure there was a small portion of the fleet in the sector. He did not order any attacks, nor could he. He only positioned us so we would be able to defend our property."
"Don't you mean, his property?"
"I don't mean his property at all. At the time President Snotzenexer did not own Custom Shields Galactica-"
"But he does now."
"- he was only acting as a president should. He protected the future of the galaxy's medical community from those who wished to jeopardize its potential prosperity. You must remember that President Snotzenexer is not the aggressor here. And it is not he alone who is being attacked. Change is in the air. Everyone with any grasp on reality can sense it. Change scares people, regardless of the good it can bring. A scared public is a dangerous public."
"I don't really think the public is scared at the changes Snotzenexer is bringing. I think they are more scared that he might be bringing the galaxy back to an Imperial era."
"I hardly think that is an issue here. This is not the venue in which one discusses rumors. And that is all they are, Rellin. Snotzenexer has recently been forced to release is resume to the public to clear himself of any Imperial history. He has spent his entire life in banking and finance."
"What about his relationship with Admiral Sanson?"
"If you were banging your producer, would you want your audience to know?"
"Uh, I, Sena-"
"Of course not. Regardless of the terms of the relationship, you would fear that your audience would think your position was gotten through less than honorable means. President Snotzenexer and Admiral Sanson are a happy couple that did not want the public to speculate and hypothesize what might be the case. As it stands, Admiral Sanson achieved her position through actions taken by the former head of military. Actions that the president had no influence over. As admiral, she has performed remarkably well."
"Still the public was lied to."
"What the public doesn't know is what makes them the public. Do you know whom I'm seeing right now? No, you don't. Nor do I know whom you're involved with. People's private matters should remain private. As I said before, we do not want to have an anxious or frightened public."
"There you go again, accusing the average citizen as being responsible for this crisis."
"And there you go calling it a crisis again. Let me share with you a piece of information that will no doubt triple your ratings. Less than one hour ago, President Snotzenexer was violently attacked by a Jedi. The Jedi killed seventeen people on his way to the presidential office. Our president met the challenge head on, sustaining serious wounds, yet emerging the victor."
"Is this true?"
"All of it. Now tell me, aren't the Jedi supposed to be the protectors of the galaxy? Yet now on two different occasions, a Jedi has tried to - and in this case succeeded - attack our president. If this isn't a rebellion against change, I don't know what is.
"The citizens of the Republic need to understand that we are trying to provide them with the best living conditions possible. Now is the best time to go into business for yourself. The galaxy has seen true peace for the first time in eons. Hunger and disease are soon to be only memories. We will continue to provide our people with everything they need, but we can not fight against them. Change is good, everyone just needs to see that."
The holo-vid clicked off. "It continues for another good twenty minutes. The show is set to air in two hours," Senator Belsiphvin said.
Snotzenexer continued to stare through the air above the holo projector, thinking about what was going on. His arm was in a sling after dislocating his shoulder, and he winced in pain every time he moved from his self-inflicted side injury. Despite the pain he was in, he smiled to himself.
Several months ago, Captain Tallon had made Snotzenexer, then a commander, play the role of a prosecuting attorney against Luke Skywalker and Han Solo. Though it had been a kangaroo court, Snotzenexer had prepared for that trial by reading up on several court techniques. What was going on now was one of the more famous legal maneuvers. Make the accused look like the victim.
Snotzenexer had misused the military. No matter how you sugar coated it, he had committed a political crime. Not only that, but he had lied about his relationship with his wife. It appeared the government was willing to look past these offenses for the overall good of the people.
"There are two ways we can play this," Belsiphvin began, laying out the scenario Snotzenexer had just gone through in his mind. "You can be the accused or the victim. Due to your unfortunate encounter earlier today, I feel we must peruse the latter."
"It seems best," Snotzenexer replied.
"Regardless of the public's response to this incident, your actions over the past few days still remain. There will be no punishment, as the senate feels you acted in a manner consistent with the good of the Republic. But I must warn you, you have slightly blemished you previously perfect image in the eyes of some of the senators."
Snotzenexer absorbed this commentary stoically. Score one for the rebels, he thought. Though, whatever instability Eran might have inspired by his actions, Trince's attack went a long way to negate it. It also put Snotzenexer in a good position to call down distrust on the Jedi and all who sympathized with them, though he was sure the public would take up that vendetta without his help.
Even though the rebels now had a point in their favor, that seemed to be all they had. He had gone over the reports from the Hoth system and came to the same conclusion his wife had. Jade and the young Solo child were dead. Skywalker was still on Hoth, also probably dead by now.
After Eran's unexpected visit, Snotzenexer had done a little investigating on his own. The former government agent had landed on Coruscant in the Solo twin's ship. It was the same ship that had chased down a supposed thief several weeks earlier. The Jedi twins had chased Eran, and the young man had returned without them, flying their ship.
Now the only Jedi left were just students, and without a teacher or public support, he didn't feel threatened in the slightest. After he let this little "crisis" blow over, he would be able to start putting his real plans into motion.
* * *
Thomas Thorin began watching the nightly Coruscant talk show in his room, but within two minutes after the announcment of the guest, the entire group on Yavin IV was gathered in a classroom before a giant holo projector. Everyone remained quiet through the bit about the Jedi attack. They all knew who it was, and everyone felt responsible for not seeing it coming and doing something about it.
The deed was done, no matter who took the blame. They all also knew that the galaxy was going to be a very hostile place for them in the weeks and months to come. Any chance they had of gathering sympathy seemed hopeless. It looked like Snotzenexer had tied up all the loose ends.
Chapter 20
"Some Loose Ends"The two lightsabers clashed violently together as the two combatants struggled against each other. The moves seemed too fluid to be possible. Each parry perfectly intercepted every strike; each strike efficiently transforming into the next parry. The two fighters moved through a set of motions that seemed choreographed, too exact for reality.
Suddenly one of the fighters faltered, slipping on an unseen patch of oil. His opponent pressed the attack, striking hard at the handle of the stumbling Jedi's weapon. The fallen Jedi suddenly yelped in pain, dropping his sword with a clatter. He hopped up from his prone position, shaking his hand violently from the pain before putting his injured fingers in his mouth.
"Cut, cut, cut, cut!"
The uninjured fighter looked off to the side as the director came on to the set. "You're not supposed to actually hit him, Francis. What are you trying to do, hurt the star of the picture?"
"I'm sorry, Curtis, but he was supposed to block it."
Curtis looked at his injured star still nursing his sore fingers. Humph, some Jedi. "Yes, well, he's also the headliner in this movie and he has the right to improvise. You other so-called actors are supposed to adjust to his improvisation."
Francis tried to put up some more protest, but Curtis cut him off. "Everyone take ten. No, make that thirty."
Borrel Curtis went back to his director's chair, drowned in his misery. How did he end up here? He used to be one of the biggest players in the entertainment industry. He had had hundreds of people that followed his every suggestion and only a few people above him. That was before the terrorist attack. Everyone remembered the attack on the entertainment industry. It had been called the Snotzenexer miracle.
The Varion Imperial Bank had just acquired a new bank president and he started making big moves immediately. His first one was to remove any investments the large bank had in the entertainment company. All of Curtis' colleagues instantly took a strong disliking towards the president. That resentment would have continued after the terrorist attack, if anyone but Curtis had survived.
Curtis had been out supervising a documentary shoot and had escaped the destruction that wiped out his company. Now he was a two-bit director working for one of his former competitors. Curtis cursed Snotzenexer everyday. At first he was just sour at the fact the president had taken advantage of his misfortune, but after the Skywalker incident, it grew to more than simple resentment.
Curtis idolized the Jedi. He was in the process of shooting the fourth movie in the Jedi Chronicles, a series started by his old company and picked up by his new employers. Luke Skywalker had been a hero to Curtis, so when it turned out that the Jedi Master and Snotzenexer were on opposite sides, Curtis became suspicious. If Snotzenexer was such a great man, why did the ultimate protector of the universe have a problem with him? Curtis set out on a mission to try and smear the president's name as much as he could, but he just couldn't find any dirt on him.
The producer of the film came up to Curtis during the thirty-minute break. "Have you heard the news?"
Curtis had heard a lot of news. "What?"
"President Snotzenexer has been attacked by another Jedi. The Jedi had just graduated last year and killed seventeen guards before Snotzenexer got him."
"President Snotzenexer killed a Jedi?!" Curtis didn't believe it for a second.
"The report says he defended himself with a sword. He took several severe cuts but managed to slice the Jedi's lightsaber in half. The weapon exploded, injuring the Jedi and allowing Snotzenexer to finish him."
Curtis shook his head slowly. Something was definitely up now. There was no way Snotzenexer could ever beat a Jedi who had just killed seventeen armed, palace guards. Now, more than ever, Curtis was determined to figure out this mysterious Republic President and uncover any secrets he might be hiding. And when he did, he would make sure the whole galaxy knew about it, or at least everyone who watched his news program.
* * *
Ferris Loyran read the report with an upraised eyebrow. He was the President of the Varion Construction Yards and knew more than was healthy. He had been allowed into Snotzenexer's confidence back when the Republic President was only an ambitious entrepreneur. The reason Loyran had been so blessed was that he knew too much and Snotzenexer had to promise him financial security to keep him quiet.
Loyran had seen right through Snotzenexer's many tricks, though he had never guessed how many tricks there would be. The financial wizard had first approached him with a proposal to buy up a small propulsion company that was about to go under. Snotzenexer was going to purchase all their available stock, and then the Varion Construction Yards would annex the smaller company into their own, making Snotzenexer's stock incredibly valuable.
The deal had been sweet for both parties. Snotzenexer's bank made a huge profit, and now the bank was a part owner of the construction yards, giving VCY access to a very large amount of other financial markets and to a large credit extension. In the meantime, VCY was contracted to overhaul more than two dozen Star Destroyers that had only recently entered the Varion system and had been hiding in the asteroid field.
Now the reports coming out of Coruscant were saying that Snotzenexer had been involved with scandals involving the military and Admiral Sanson. Loyran had known about the marriage between the two long ago. Sanson had found it necessary to drop her husband's name in order to gain access to Loyran's office back when the deal to overhaul the Star Destroyers was struck.
In an effort to quell the people's fears, both Sanson and Snotzenexer were releasing their personal histories to show they had no hidden motives. The history said that Sanson had broken away from the Empire ten years earlier and had been hiding in various systems ever since. She had spent two years in the Varion system before she met Snotzenexer and the bank president had convinced her to defect to the Republic.
Loyran knew this was a flat out lie. He had several observation satellites patrolling the asteroids looking for rich pockets of ore and had conclusive reports that Sanson had not entered the Varion system longer than three months ago. Loyran also knew that no one else had access to that information, as the asteroid field was normally left alone accept by his company.
Loyran also knew that the Star Destroyers his company was working on were equipped with cloaking devices. While cloaked ships were prominent in the Empire at one time, they had not been seen (isn't that the idea though) for a dozen years. It wasn't until the Imperial activity in the Danzig system started three months ago that cloaking devices made a resurgence. Now, shortly after the Imperial defeat in the Danzig system, here were two dozen ships equipped with the unique technology.
Loyran could not argue with Snotzenexer's professed history of banking and financial endeavors, but he had his hunches. A fleet of Star Destroyers recently defeated did not normally just give up and turn themselves in to the enemy unless they had a plan. If there was an Imperial plan, Snotzenexer had to be involved.
The real question was "What was Loyran going to do with this information?" For now, nothing. He was living the high life right now, due mostly to Snotzenexer's constant financial success. With his success, the Varion Imperial Bank succeeded. And with the bank's success, the Varion Construction Yards prospered.
Loyran decided to sit on his hands for several reasons other than the money. If Snotzenexer was Imperial and Loyran decided to turn on him, the VCY president had no doubt that the dozen Star Destroyers still tied up at his space docks would turn him and his company into rubble. Also, if Snotzenexer started to pull Imperial moves, he would need to have influence all over the galaxy. With Loyran already informed as he was, he thought himself the logical choice.
Loyran wasn't naive, though. He knew that if Snotzenexer was Imperial, then there was a good chance he didn't have one sympathetic bone in his body. If it turned out that Loyran knew too much, Snotzenexer would wipe him out. Loyran half expected a gunman to show up at his door every morning or for a bomb to take out his luxury aircar every time he started it up. Because of this concern, Loyran had a back-up plan. If Snotzenexer ever tried to take him out, he would be ready to strike back.
With all this in mind, Loyran still found it easy to relax. While he realized there was a chance Snotzenexer was crooked, he put the odds of the new president turning the Republic back into the Empire at ten to one. Things just seemed to be running too smoothly to change. And that was just fine with Loyran.
* * *
Sandie Hollins pondered the reports coming out of Coruscant too. Her position as acting President of the Varion Imperial Bank was solely the result of Snotzenexer. If anyone should be on the Republic President's side, it should be her. Instead, she was beginning to have her doubts.
It was tax time, and the IRS (Iom Revenue Service) was looking at the bank with hungry eyes. The bank had turned enormous profits, most of which had been done with little or no paper work. Sandie was finding out that Snotzenexer had bypassed most of the vital paper work involved with maintaining a bank of this size, and most tax exemptions or deductions the bank should have been entitled to were missing.
Sandie had found it necessary to hire three different accounting firms to do internal audits on the bank's income statements. Every day they came to her with pile after pile of papers that needed her signature. Most of these papers should have been signed by Snotzenexer during his first few days, but had been passed over. In addition to the accounting firm's exorbitant fees, Sandie had found it necessary to promise them ten percent of tax savings they were able to give the bank. It hadn't sounded like much to begin with, but after the accounting firms began to dig around a little, they found figures with more zeros than you might find in an average cereal bowl of Deflan O's.
With the digging came discrepancies. The first one that had caught Sandie's attention was the depreciation loss on the bank's security equipment. Depreciation on the expensive equipment was usually high do to the frequency of electric storms on Iom. Shortly after Snotzenexer had taken control, the bank had purchased new security equipment along with a new network system. The bank had experienced a huge loss on disposal when they had replaced the equipment, and the tax reimbursement was significant.
When trying to figure out why the depreciation method for the equipment had failed so miserably, Sandie noticed that Snotzenexer had not dealt with the bank's normal electronics supplier. Not only had he disposed the equipment with someone out of system, he had purchased the new equipment with the same dealer. The really curious part of this information was that the dates for the purchase and arrangement of disposal predated Snotzenexer's take over of the bank. Apparently Snotzenexer had bought the bank's new equipment before he had become president.
While it was very possible, and likely, that Snotzenexer had foreknowledge of his presidency, the existing president should have been the one to finalize the deal. Instead it appeared that the former bank president didn't even know about it, hence the loss on disposal.
There were other things. Huge sums of money had been funneled to the Varion Construction Yard with no more than a receipt of withdrawal to accompany them. The accounting firms jumped on these by having Sandie sign papers declaring the transfers as charitable donations, and thus tax deductible.
The one thing that concerned Sandie the most was Snotzenexer's dealings with her former bank back in the Detsgor system. Of all the banks Snotzenexer had placed money in, her bank had received the largest investment. The Galactic Bank in the Detsgor system had neither been the biggest bank Snotzenexer had dealings with, nor had it been the most profitable. Her bank had offered investors moderate, but consistent returns. Still, Snotzenexer had put more money in her bank than any other by almost 50 percent.
Sandie now understood the situation that her former boss, President Overn, had been in. He had called out for the Republic to repay a loan that the bank would have normally taken as a loss. The reason became obvious now. The percentage loss to all the shareholders would have been minimal, but due to the enormity of Snotzenexer's investment, the actual value for the bank president would have been staggering.
It was far too much of a coincidence for Sandie to handle. Snotzenexer had taken control of the Republic financially and then politically, as a direct result of what her bank had done. Of course for Snotzenexer to plan it, he would have had to have foreknowledge of the accident on Xentin. That was something Sandie refused to believe.
* * *
The flight attendant announced the trip would take shortly over 53 hours.
The passengers were required to stay in their seats during take-off and landings. Ships as large as the commercial space liner normally did not enter atmospheres, but for convenience's sake, this one did. This meant that take-off was rather intense as a result of the enormous thrust required to break gravity.
After the rough ride was over, Eran unbuckled himself and made his way back to his personal quarters. He had very little money left and could only afford third class accommodations.
Eran was headed back to his home on Iom. He didn't really know what he was going to do there, but he didn't want to press his luck hanging around Coruscant with Snotzenexer no doubt looking for him. He was taking a very big risk by taking the public space liner. If Snotzenexer had managed to find him before he boarded, the large ship would suffer a major accident, loosing all passengers. Snotzenexer's proficiency of orchestrating catastrophic accidents was very well known to Eran.
Eran simply had to bet that the media attention Snotzenexer was receiving had not allowed him to track down the sneaky government agent. That title was something that Eran didn't want to remember. His employers had told him to take a long vacation. Well he had, and while he didn't want to ignore what Snotzenexer was doing, he felt if he joined back up with the government agency, he might have access to more resources with which to combat the new Republic President.
Now all Eran could do was wait and hope the space liner wasn't carrying any of Snotzenexer's "special" cargo.
* * *
"Doctor, could you please have a look at this patient?"
Doctor Herium was having a slow day, and nodded at his nurse's request. They walked quickly through the halls of one of Iom's finest hospitals. As they walked, the nurse began to explain. "We received this patient last night while you were off. He appears to have been in some kind of severe accident. Both his legs are badly broken and he is suffering from blood loss and hypothermia."
The doctor nodded. Blood loss usually implied hypothermia or shock of some sort, but as Herium looked out a window into the cool morning air, he understood that as winter was quickly approaching, hypothermia would even occur without the loss of the body's heating fluid.
"We don't have a name, age, or even a guess at background. One of the emergency medical droids that roams the mountains looking for skiers picked up his life sign and brought him in. A droid search party found his vehicle several kilometers from his body. I call it a vehicle because its exact definition couldn't be gathered from the wreck. I've seen pictures, and believe me, he had to have ejected because no living creature could have survived that accident."
The medical pair finally reached the patient's room and the doctor stopped cold. He had never seen anything like this. There were two beds in the room set up in a "T." The reason of the set up was because the patient was easily over two meters tall. One of his legs was upraised with a local freezing unit on his foot, extending halfway to his knee. The other leg was down and looked like it had three knees. Both the thigh and shinbones were broken at drastic angles, breaking the skin in both locations. Local freezing units surrounded both of those breaks with intravenous hookups in both places.
"Let me guess," the doctor started as he walked over to the patient, "he's not Varion?"
"Correct, Doctor."
Doctor Herium shook his head and sighed. Though Varion's appeared human in every respect, they had two hearts and very unique blood. Because of this, and the small number of off worlders living on Iom, most hospitals did not have a large supply of universal human blood on hand.
"You've put a request into the main bank, I assume?" Herium asked.
The nurse nodded. "The blood should arrive later today. They could only spare four pints, which might not be enough to set the bone and initiate healing. We didn't want to try and set it last night for fear we might start more internal bleeding."
"You made the right decision," the doctor said as he bent over to look more closely at the wounds. He knew why he was called into service for this case. He was probably the best bonesetter on the entire planet, but his skills would be put to the test here. "We are going to have to set it once the blood arrives. If we wait much longer, the muscle atrophy will ensure that he never walks again. As it is, I'd give him a fifty-fifty chance."
Herium took a step back to look at the rest of his patient. His skin was very pale and breathing was incredibly shallow. He was in an induced, medical comma with IV's hooked up to every main blood vessel the nurses could find. Though they didn't have this young man's blood type in stock, they were able to fill his remaining blood with every nutrient imaginable.
Out of curiosity, the doctor pulled back the whit sheets to see what the patient was wearing. The nurses had not bothered to remove his clothes other than to slice up his pants to get at his wounds. He was wearing some type of flight or cold-weather suit. It was featureless except for an oval emblem on the breast. It was a picture of a three-eared bat, a wusket if Herium wasn't mistaken. The bat's wings were folded in such a way to make the creature look like a flying "W."
"I hope you make it buddy," the doctor said before he left to go study the young man's x-rays.
Interlude IV
Jaina and Mara woke up at the same time.
"The Zorian is here!!!"
TO BE CONTINUED . . . . AGAIN
