Chapter 3…
With a roar, the unmarked freighter came to life. Commander Matic Pace smiled as he stood beside the small craft inside one of the Imperial Palace's hangerbays, and then grabbed the comlink from his belt. "Okay, Weo, check out the main weaponry, then shut it off."
There came a, "yes, sir"; with that, Matic clipped his comlink back to his waist, and climbed down from the ship. There to greet him was his squad, a group of human men and women signaling a thumps-up at the vessel's check-off list.
They had been renovating the broken-down freighter for their mission since word of Kyp Durron's mishap in space. It was certainly a hope that Matic's chances were superior to the dying Jedi's. He couldn't say he didn't feel a little sorry for the man. Durron was just a few years younger than the commander himself, but Matic had little doubt the Jedi wasn't asking for it. Force-users had a way of playing the lone hero. Chances were, Durron had gotten into something he couldn't slip out of.
Since then, Matic had been briefed by Borsk Fey'lya on how the situation would proceed. Senator Retafured and many other politicians had demanded that the Jedi be asked to assist. Matic had agreed only if he would be able to keep the Jedi under control. He merely hoped the Force-users' sense of higher judgment wouldn't get in the way.
"Commander Pace," Ross, the crew's computer slicer, hollered and started to jog toward him.
Matic dropped his eyes to the younger man as he reached him. The slicer was six feet tall, but still didn't match Matic's larger size. In fact, most men didn't. Matic hadn't met anyone besides Princess Leia's Wookie friend that hadn't marveled at his stature.
"Sir, Master Skywalker, and his wife have just come out of their briefing," Ross explained, exasperated.
Matic pressed his lips together, and nodded. "Good. Has the Jedi Master decided on what Jedi will be joining us?"
A strange look clouded Ross's expression, and instantly caught Matic's attention. "No, sir, that's why I'm here," the slicer hesitated as if he couldn't believe it himself. "They're sending them with us. Him and his wife."
Matic blinked. "What?"
"I'm serious. They've been assigned to your unit, sir."
It took Matic a moment to register what his slicer had announced; it took even longer to sputter out a coherent sentence. "You—you mean, the Skywalkers?"
"I know, Commander. They talked about it for almost half an hour. The Skywalkers felt your mission assignment best suited—"
"Blast it!" Matic suddenly bellowed, sending his crews' eyes to his direction. They had talked about the mission—discussed who would go for the past three days. Matic didn't even want a Jedi Knight with him. Now, he was stuck with a Jedi Master and his Jedi wife?
"Sir, they're waiting for you inside the prison ward," Ross murmured.
Matic's body tensed. "Why?"
"I think they're interrogating the Falleen, Terrin—"
Matic's restraint caved in like a Taun-Taun with a Hutt on its back. He whirled away from Ross. Terrin, the Falleen discovered with Kyp Durron, had been assigned to Matic Pace just earlier that day. He hadn't even gotten the chance to interrogate him. Cursing under his breath, Matic bolted to the hangerbay's turbolift. What was Fey'lya thinking?
Matic reached the prison ward within five minutes. It was a small division of the Imperial Palace typically used for prisoners of war. From the end of the hallway, Matic could already spot a man in the distance, relaxing in a chair outside the Falleen's room. Beside him was a figure wearing a medic's uniform. They were chatting, and didn't notice Matic down the hall.
As Matic trekked closer, the figure next to Terrin's room gradually manifested into a man Matic had seen on the holo ever since he was a teenager. Dressed in a black suit and brown robe, the man's eyes shifted to Matic, and then back to the medic. Matic kept his head high; he wouldn't be viewed as weak in front of the Jedi Master. He marched down the hall with his eyes angled towards the ceiling.
It only took a second to reach Skywalker. His body straight with arms tight to his sides like two heavy canes, Matic halted in front of the Jedi and looked down…
By the Force,...Matic choked down a laugh.
Even from his chair, it was clear the Jedi Master couldn't be taller than Matic's chin. Slender, he still seemed to have the slightest bit of youthful roundness to his face that made him look about as dangerous as an Ewok with a stick. This was Luke Skywalker?
"Now, remember," the medic instructed to the small man as he catered to the Jedi's arm, "this vaccine is guaranteed for only two weeks. After that, it will be up to your own body as to how much longer it can hold out."
"I don't suppose you can tell the Falleen of my tight schedule, huh?" the Jedi Master joked.
"Would they listen?" the medic replied, and then lifted an injector gun to the Jedi's shoulder. "Hold still." Without hesitation, the medic pressed the trigger. With its four thin needles, it took less than a second for the vaccine to be injected into the Jedi's arm.
Unresponsive to any pain the shots might have caused, Skywalker bowed his head to the medic. "Thank you, Dr. Ooles. Hopefully, I won't see you again for awhile."
The medic laughed. "Just don't turn green on me, Luke. That's all I ask."
With that, the medic packed up his things and left. Matic watched him go, and then regressed to the Jedi Master. In unison, Skywalker kindly stood for a more formal greeting. As he did, Matic bit his lip so he wouldn't burst out laughing. The Jedi didn't even reach his chin.
"Commander Matic Pace, I presume," Master Skywalker stated with a polite grin. Any hint of intimidation from Matic's size didn't show in his features.
Gazing at the smaller man, Matic silently accepted his hand.
"I hope you don't mind—my wife is speaking with Terrin. She'll be out to meet you in a minute," Master Skywalker informed, and returned to his seat.
Regathering his thoughts, Matic's expression hardened. "Actually, I do mind, Master Skywalker. Terrin is mine to interrogate. He was assigned into my custody, and therefore, is my responsibility. Not yours."
The strong reply didn't seem to take the other man off guard by much. Keeping his eyes steady on Matic, he replied, "I'm sorry—I was unaware of this. Mara wanted to speak with him. No one objected."
Matic glanced at the white door of Terrin's room, his anger fleeting. "She has a special Jedi talent of interrogation?"
There was an abrupt bang from inside the room; Matic jumped, Skywalker merely crossed his arms, and slouched back in his seat. "Actually, I would say more of a Mara talent of interrogation." Just then, Master Skywalker altered his attention to the doors. A second later, they opened.
As they did, Matic heard the whimpers of his prisoner trailing out into the hallway. Then, a woman, he could only assume was Mara Jade Skywalker, came into view at the room's entrance with a satisfied sneer on her expression. She was also a face Matic had seen on the holo. Although attractive, she was still not Matic's taste. He liked his women sweet, and young…her smirk alone validated that sardonic edge to her personality that had been rumored about ever since she married the Jedi Master.
Silently, she stepped toward Matic, and thrust out a hand.
"Mara Jade Skywalker," she introduced herself.
He received her hand, and shook lightly. "Commander Matic Pace."
"Commander Pace," she repeated, and then glimpsed back at Terrin's room. "I didn't mean to upset you. My husband and I heard that your prisoner refused to talk. I thought I would give it a shot."
His eyebrows narrowed. Confused, he exchanged a look with Skywalker, who seemed less intrigued by his wife's declaration. A shudder edged up Matic's back. Curse Jedi telepathy.
Silently, the commander brushed off his annoyance, and motioned a hand to the datapad in Mara Skywalker's grasp. "You have any luck with him?"
Without delay, she passed the device to Matic. "You could say that."
Staring down at the datapad, Matic started to skim the mammoth files from Terrin'a confession.
"I suggest you smile, Commander," the Jedi woman declared. "We have a lead now. That's more than we could have said half an hour ago."
Matic gawked at her from above the datapad's screen and swallowed hard.
Unreal, indeed.
End of Chapter 3