Teen Titans / Star Wars crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 10: Haunted

…..

I don't own either the Teen Titans or the Star Wars franchise, of course. I doubt anyone really thought I did, but you know.

I'd like to thank my collaborator for his untiring help in guiding me through the twisting mazes of the Star Wars universe. His knowledge is truly exceptional. We've had our disagreements—all people do—and I've begged and pleaded and threatened to hold my breath until I turned blue about the inclusion of certain scenes he had doubts about. So, anything you see that looks much amiss, or doesn't add up in some way, it's probably my fault. I accept full responsibility.

…

Chapter 10: Haunted

"It was, of course, a false lead." Tarkin controlled his voice very carefully. "An abandoned base."

"Of course it was."

"You knew?"

"I suspected. If our enhanced interrogation techniques failed to unlock her secrets, I doubt that anything would have." The ebony mask turned towards Tarkin. "Even as you suspected, Governor. The destruction of a heavily armed rebel base by this battlestation would have been a better example, no matter how far off the normal lanes it was."

Tarkin narrowed his eyes at the Dark Lord. "And you shared none of this with the rest of us? None of your suspicions? Your reticence borders on sedition, Lord Vader."

There was the briefest of pauses. Then Darth Vader spoke up again, his night-mirrored eye ports never leaving the Governor's face. "The Emperor has made it clear that I am to be under orders from you, governor. However, one thing I will emphasize: you are not my Master."

…..

Grand Moff Tarkin was just about ready to turn in. It had, overall, been a good day, even if his patience had been sorely tried by the Sith Lord.

They'd destroyed one rebel planet, and he had no doubt they'd find the rebel base they sought. The mystery of the seeming derelict didn't even register on his personal radar. Let the officers in charge of that handle that. That was their job; he had weightier chores.

So he retired that night (or, more accurately, the arbitrary time allotted as "night," there being no night on any such deep space ship or station) after a few sips from a particularly pleasant bottle of vino. It was always amazing how it helped relax him.

There was some sort of commotion from outside. It sounded like the guards were scuffling.

Frag it! They knew he hated commotion, especially when he was about to retire! There'd be some serious demotions for the idiots involved.

It never occurred to him that there might be danger. After all, he was right in the middle of the most powerful battle station ever created. Security was probably tighter here than at the Emperor's own palace.

He shot the door open. "What is the meaning of this? What's going on…" And his eyes widened as he took in the scene: the orange skinned girl, as tall as himself, standing over the fallen guards. She wasn't holding a weapon, but…something about her expression sent a chill through him. There was a sheen to her eyes that didn't look totally sane.

"What is going on?" she repeated, with a slight giggle. "You are the dying, that is what is going on." The last thing Grand Moff Tarkin saw was her hand gripping his throat, an inhumanly tight grip, which easily lifted him off the floor.

One more giggle, and pain and darkness claimed him.

….

Earlier, on the Millennium Falcon: "We can't take Raven. Beast Boy, you'll have to stay here with her. Cyborg, can you install your sounder-blockers in that main hidden compartment?"

"I think so. Of course, if I'm not here, I can't completely guarantee it'll work properly. If they use some frequency the blocker isn't programmed for…"

"It'll have to do. Now, the rest of us: Cyborg, we'll need you to interface with-*" He was interrupted by a series of bleeps and boops from R2 D2. "What's he saying?"

Before Cyborg could answer, C3PO spoke up. "He is saying that he could probably interface with the computer system here more easily than Master Cyborg, Master Robin. He is more familiar with the programming format." As always, he spoke deferentially to the humans.

"Well…I'm not sure. Aren't they looking for you two?"

"I have gathered that they are. But there are many R2 units on this station—his is a standard-seeming model—and unless someone examines his registration number, he could easily pass as one of them. I might have a harder time…protocol droids are likely to be fewer in number here, and my coloration may work against me. However, I am willing to risk it for R2. Er, I mean, after all, I can translate for him. That would free up Master Cyborg for what is, I am sure, any martial maneuvers that will result in our complete and total destruction." He saw their looks. "It is better than staying here and awaiting the inevitable blaster bolt."

Cyborg turned to Robin. "Told you he was a ray of sunshine."

….

Corl Vanderk found himself dragged back into the same utility room he'd just come from. The strange man—a dark haired, dark eyed man whose face alone scared Vanderk almost as much as Lord Vader—hauled him back with one arm. That face seemed to be carved from solid stone, yet it reflected an internal volcanic fury. The man waved a hand, and Vanderk found himself up against the wall, held by an invisible force. The stranger produced a large-bored tube resembling a flashlight…and to Vanderk's horror, pressed a switch, activating a red-beamed lightsaber. "Okay, you've got two options here. You answer my questions truthfully—and I'll know if you're lying or not—and you might live. Anything else, you die. Clear?"

"Urk." The force—the Force, he recognized-holding him was tight. "Uh, y-yes. I, uh, got it." He didn't know who this was, but he was obviously a Force-user. But if he was affiliated with Lord Vader, why was he sneaking around down here?

"What were you doing in here? And who was that girl?"

"Uh…" Should he answer these questions? He wasn't sure. "Uh, I…that is…could I ask who you are?"

"I'm the one asking questions here, that's who. You're the one answering them. Now that we've cleared that up…" And the force holding him tightened.

Vanderk faced a huge dilemma. If this man was working for the Empire—perhaps a covert agent-he couldn't just spill his guts. That would make everything he'd done all for naught.

On the other hand, how much of a covert agent could he be, running around down here, using the Force, and brandishing a lightsaber? That sort of thing would be hard to hide. So he had to be new, a new factor in this mix. "Uhm…"

"Hesitation's gonna cost you, kid." The man's predatory eyes narrowed. "I'm not here for the Empire. I can tell that's what you're thinking." The man smirked, but there was little humor in his voice. "Of course, that's exactly what I'd say if I was, so I guess you can't go by that." He raised the lightsaber. "But what you can go by is this: if you don't spill your guts, I will. So…your choice."

"I…that was a prisoner. I…was trying to help her and the Princess escape."

"'Her and the Princess'? What Princess?"

"Urk…the Princess Leia Organa. She's being held in the confinement cells."

"Leia Organa? How'd she get mixed up in this?"

"I, I don't know the details. Only that they've been trying to get information on the rebels from her."

The man considered a moment. "Figures. But how'd they get her?" This last was said in a reflective tone, not a real question.

But Vanderk answered it anyway. Why not? Somehow he knew this guy wasn't working for Vader or the Empire. "She was on a courier ship. They got wind of her plan to get the schematics for the battle station to the rebels."

"She has those?"

"I don't know. Rumor has it she put 'em in some droid and shot it off into space. That's really all I know."

Again, the man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So you helped a prisoner escape? What'd she do? Give you a really good fuck?"

"NO! I mean, no! I, I just…I mean, it was wrong, I felt. They were gonna kill her when she was down. I, I just didn't want…"

Galen Marek grinned inside. This young man's vehement response told him more than the trooper had intended. "So…you turned traitor?"

"I guess I have. At least about that." He shuddered when he remembered the vids of the destruction of Alderaan.

And…he remembered Irima Solstice's crying. Crying over her lost family.

Nobody should be forced to witness a thing like that.

The strange man looked at him, looked deeply into his eyes. Vanderk knew he was seeing more than just that, though. "Your reasons…seem shaky. I don't think you've fully decided either way yet. That makes you dangerous to me. I should kill you and be done with it…" His voice trailed off.

"If you're here to fight them, I…know a few things you may not." Vanderk knew he was trying to bargain for his life…if the man figured he had no use for him… "Like how we shouldn't stay long in this area."

"Why's that?"

"This is 4DC. The 'DC' part stands for 'Death Central.' Things happen down here; equipment failures, people get sick, accidents…"

"And why's that?" Vanderk could see the man's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He hadn't known about the infamous deck. He must be a recent arrival.

Vanderk shook his head slightly. Even without his helmet, with the Force holding him against the wall, it was about all he could manage. "Nobody knows, or, if they do know, I don't know. Just…that things happen. Some engineer told me once it had something to do with the power generation down here." And he gestured with his head at the door, which, though closed, opened up to show the bottom portion of the alien spheroid around which the Death Star had been constructed. "She thought it maybe affected probability, somehow." He couldn't shrug much, what with his armor, except for his helmet, on, but he tried.

"Hm. You're not just saying that, either, I can tell. Well…you do know a few things, maybe. But do you know enough? And just what is your stance with the Empire, anyway?"

"Well, I've already committed two acts of treason. I guess if I were to tell my superiors about you, I'd have to explain what I was doing down here. That could get…awkward, to say the least."

"So," said the strange man, "you're sayin' you're ready to throw in with me?"

"That—urk!—depends."

"On?" Hm. Most prisoners would not hesitate to say yes, to get on their captor's good side, whether they really were or not. So this was most unusual behavior, indeed.

"Are you with the rebels?"

Galen Marek tilted his head at him. "Why is that important?"

"Because Starfire already asked me to join her rebellion. I told her no."

"Why?"

"I swore an oath-*"

"Oh, don't tell me you're that naïve. People change oaths like clothes. So try again."

"I, I meant it. I won't betray my oath, my family."

"Your family?"

"My…father. Fought as a midshipman on the Victory. My grandmother served on board the Pinnacle. And my great-grandfather was on board the Viceroy."

"Huh. So. Military brat, huh? Guess I can see why you wouldn't wanna turn. But that only means I've no use for you alive, and a lotta uses for you dead."

Vanderk's own temper began to flare. He glared at the Force-user. "Then quit screwing around and do it, already. Kill me or let me go. I need to pee. You know how hard it is to get that stink outta these suits?"

The strange man looked at him for a long, long moment, and Vanderk was sure he'd bring that lightsaber up and through his chest. But the man began to chuckle, then to laugh. He reminds me of me, thought Marek. "Kid, I'm probably gonna regret this…" And the invisible force holding Vanderk to the wall vanished. "Scamper on back to your unit. And if you should happen across 'Lord Vader,'" he paused, while Vanderk held his breath. What could be possibly be about to say? "Tell him…an old 'friend' of his is here. Tell him Starkiller is here. He'll know who you're talking about." A wolfish grin. "He'll know why I'm here, too."

….

Ben slipped cautiously into the very guts of the battleship. He had some idea, even though there were large gaps in his knowledge. Plus, he was working under the constraints of having to hide his presence from someone who very probably had already sensed him, and would be on his guard. That person, he knew, was intelligent enough to know that someone was most likely to be exactly where he was, and for the very reason he was.

He knew his padawan had changed since he'd last seen him. What he didn't know, what he couldn't know, was how he'd changed, and to what degree he'd changed. He was, without a doubt, stronger now than when they parted company, but in what ways? And to what degree?

Avoiding the increased patrols was the easy part, and, he knew, due to the more sensitive nature of this area, security cams were more likely to be in greater concentration here than in others. After all, there were only a few ways to get to the machines that were deemed most important, such as the one that fed power to the tractor beam.

It wasn't as though he could throw a line across a gap and swing across, after all.

….

Within the guts of the battle station: Robin and the others were conferring as to the best course of action. So far they'd managed to avoid any patrols, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. While the humans could pass as stormtroopers, Chewbacca definitely couldn't. "We need more info. Can R2 interface with their computer system?" In Ben's absence, Robin had, quite naturally, taken charge. Somehow, Luke couldn't picture him any other way, and he had a hunch Robin couldn't picture himself any other way, either.

"Oh, most certainly, Master Robin. Oh, and I should tell you: R2 can understand you when you speak. He has merely never been fitted with any sort of speaker gear, hence my need to translate for him. That, after all, is my function, primarily."

"Oh. Hm, you know, don't take this the wrong way, er, R2, but it seems kinda inefficient, that you can understand but not speak." R2 responded with a series of beeps and boops that, to Robin's ear, sounded a bit sarcastic.

C3PO inclined his head towards R2 a moment. "Oh, come on, R2, he was only making an observation. I'm sure Master Robin didn't mean it in any disparaging way. Yes, we know you didn't build yourself, that's self-evident…"

"Uhm, look, never mind. R2, sorry if I gave offense." They didn't have time to get into any arguments. He was still getting used to the notion of intelligent robots. Especially robots with, apparently, actual feelings. "First thing we need is to find where prisoners are most likely to be held…"

"You mean, you need to find where prisoners are held," snorted Han. "My only concern is getting my ship loose. You can do whatever you want, but-*"

"C'mon, Han," urged Luke, "We need to free this princess." Robin held up two fingers. "Yeah, these two princesses. Don't you think there'd be a reward for freeing up an important person like her?" His powers of persuasion, thought Robin, could probably use a little work.

"Rewards aren't much good if you're dead, kid." But Han was thinking. It was quite possible that the rebels would be…extremely grateful for the return of one of their most valued members. Also, there was another factor to consider: while the Empire was pretty free with the blaster bolts, they were less likely to unleash deadly fire upon a ship carrying someone they wanted alive. No, they'd be more likely to attempt a boarding situation, and Han had no doubt but that, if they could just get free of the tractor beam, and just a little bit of a head start, the Millennium Falcon could easily outfly anything the Empire had. Fighters were fast, but that was only in the short term. Give the Falcon just a little time to get up to speed… He looked at Chewbacca. "How about it, Chewie? You wanna make like the shining hero?" Chewbacca responded with a series of low-pitched growls; he was being careful not to let his voice carry. "Yeah, I know these stolen suits won't fool people for long." They'd only managed to get enough suits for Han, Robin, and Luke; Cyborg was using his holographic technology to camouflage himself.

"R2? Can you tell if there's any place where you could plug in?"

R2 responded with a series of tired sounding boops and squeals. "Now, R2," sighed C3PO, "You don't need to talk that way. Master Robin is simply unfamiliar with Imperial technology. That shouldn't surprise you; after all, the workings of such a battle station as this is hardly public knowledge." To Robin, "He says there's no suitable access port here. We'd have to get into a major command center to learn anything of any importance. But wait…" C3PO seemed startled, "Wait. R2, aren't there charging ports for these suits? The soldiers who wore them would clearly need almost constant updates, wouldn't they?" He gestured at the ports on Robin's suit. "Perhaps they would be less defended."

R2 gave out a series of sounds that sounded, to Luke's more trained ears, a little derisive. C3PO let out a very human sounding sigh. "Well, it was a thought." He turned to the humans. "He says that would be a bad idea. Anyone in such an area would be soldiers, and armed, of course." R2 made a few more squeaks that sounded like laughter. "You needn't find it so amusing! I've never been programmed for such as this! And, unlike some droids I could point to, I'm at least trying to help, rather than standing there laughing!"

"Okay, then, command center of some sort." Robin was acutely aware that, whatever they were going to do, they couldn't stand around arguing about. That would be sure to arouse suspicion. Off the beaten path they might be, but it was still a path. Sooner or later, somebody would come along. "Where's the closest one?"

"I can answer that," said Cyborg. "All I have to do is trace these power lines. Wherever it is probably draws more juice." So saying, he extended a small sensor mounted on his left shoulder. He had to pause a moment while his camouflage system compensated for it. He turned about as though he were using a dowsing rod, finally pointed to their left. "Down that way."

"Okay, genius," said Han. "How do we actually get there? These corridors are straight…and I can't see one that goes in that direction."

"Well, there's got to be a way there. After all, these Imperials of yours got there, didn't they?"

"They're not my Imperials, metal face…"

But as they argued, Robin struck a listening pose. "Wait. Guys, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Cyborg and Han both had been engrossed in their argument.

Robin seemed troubled. "I could have sworn…I could have sworn I heard somebody singing."

….

Private First Class Corl Vanderk reported to his duty station. "And just where the frag have you been, all this time?" said the duty officer. "Do you know how many troopers are out there looking for you?" Actually, there weren't any, aside from a small detail assigned to find his remains. Everyone had assumed he'd been a casualty in the explosion of the cooling vent.

"I, uh, got, er…well, to be honest, sir, I got lost on 4DC."

The duty sergeant shuddered visibly. There were rumors about…things happening on 4DC. "Of all the places to get lost, you hadda go and pick there? You know that place is haunted." He shuddered again. "Okay. I'll let your CO know you're back. Now get on back there."

…..

The Council convened at Darth Vader's request. "My Lord Vader. Where is the governor? When will he be joining us?"

"Never," rumbled the dark lord, standing over by one wall. Nobody there had any doubt but that his senses were not focused on the wall itself, but upon some perspective only he could see. "The governor is dead. By order of the Emperor himself, I am assuming command of this battle station. "

"WHAT?! This, this is unprecedented!"

"Precedence starts somewhere. I have my orders from Emperor Palpatine himself. Do you," he rounded on the man, the same one who, in the earlier meeting, had spoken so disparagingly of the Force, "wish to dispute the matter?"

The councilman stared at Vader. He could see his reflection in the polished eye ports…but it seemed more like the reflection of a skull than his own face. "N-no, Lord Vader. I…accept your leadership."

…..

Elsewhere: flying soundlessly through the darkened corridors, Starfire was a happy person, indeed. She'd killed the bad man, the naughty man, who'd done so much harm. He was dead, very dead, yes, he was. She'd felt his neck snap beneath her fingers. The Warlords of Okaara had trained her well.

She felt so good she felt like singing a little tune she remembered her mother singing to her, when she and her sister were but babies. She frowned when she thought of her sister. Her sister had been bad, too. She'd been naughty, yes, very naughty indeed. She wished her sister were here now so they could sing these songs together…and then Starfire would break her neck.

She knew she should be hunting for her next target, the dark man, the powerful one. He'd caught her by surprise before, but now she knew what he could do.

Starfire of Tameran smiled a very predatory smile. Things might be a little different now.

But the thought occurred to her: perhaps a little fun might be in order before continuing on with her purification spree. Yes, that was a good idea. She would hunt up that nice young man, that good young man, a spark of light in this endless darkness, who'd helped her before, and he could help her now. Together, they would sing the songs her mother had taught her, and perhaps have even more fun than that. Yes, the naughty kind of fun.

But…and here, she stopped in mid-flight, an expression of confusion coming over her perfect features…if they had the naughty kind of fun with each other, would that make him a naughty man, a bad man? It would be naughty, yes, very naughty. What she had in mind would be extremely naughty indeed. How could he continue to be a good man if he was naughty?

Then she shrugged and continued on her way. The solution to that quandary was simple. If they had the naughty fun together—and they would, she would see to that, most certainly—then he would no longer be a good man, but a bad one, and, upon completion of their naughty, naughty fun, she would simply break his neck, too.

Simple.

….

"And just where the frag have you been hiding?" his sergeant asked Private First Class Corl Vanderk.

Vanderk straightened, his salute never wavering. "Sir, I, I got lost on 4DC. The nav unit in my armor spritzed out, and…I got turned around. I'm, I'm sorry, sir."

"'Sorry' doesn't-*"

"That will be all, sergeant," said a voice from the door. Captain Sorn entered, and the sergeant stiffened and saluted. "There's no need to belabor the matter. I'm sure Trooper Vanderk regrets his…absence sufficiently. Don't you, trooper?"

"Y-yes, sir. I-*"

"Did you see any sign of the escapee?"

"O-only what we all saw, sir. I, I've got my suit recordings, but, but after the coolant connection broke, there wasn't anything to see. I mean…it was a life or death situation, and…well, we were all scrambling to get to safety." He'd rehearsed the lie until it came easily, and he'd already "tweaked" his suit cams to match his story. That just made plain good sense.

"Very well. Come with me." And the two of them left the room, leaving a flustered sergeant standing behind them, his salute unreturned.

Down the hallway: "Uh, sir? I…" He didn't know what else to say. What was with this personal attention?

"Trooper, you were, probably, in the best place to observe the alien, before the coolant leak. Did you notice anything…unusual, about her? Perhaps…perhaps about her behavior?"

"Er…unusual in what way? I mean, ub, unusual in what way, sir?" After all, he had to maintain protocol. A proper Imperial trooper always did.

They came to a small room with a desk and chair. Sorn waved Vanderk into the chair, and took the one behind the desk himself. Vanderk squirmed uneasily, both due to the uncomfortableness of his suit and the attention he was getting from his superior. "What I'm about to tell you is top secret. Nobody but the Council and a few officers have been informed of it yet, though it will become common knowledge shortly. Governor Tarkin has been killed. Slain, just outside the door to his quarters. His guards were likewise killed. All of this was done by someone with incredible strength, superhuman strength; there's no evidence of any sort of weapon used.

"And whoever did it—and I think it's a given just who that is, don't you?—has been expertly trained in hand to hand combat, not to mention infiltration tactics. Before this, there had been reports on several decks of stolen suits, malfunctioning machinery, and general vandalism. But this last attack…" he paused, "I mentioned hand to hand, but a couple of the guards were literally torn apart, broken, in a manner not consistent with any style of infighting we've ever seen." He narrowed his gaze at the young man. "Did the alien you saw—if your suit's cam is accurate, you probably had the best view—did that alien seem capable of such?"

Vanderk was floored. Starfire? Killed Governor Tarkin? Well, really, he could see it, but…the guards? He guessed he couldn't expect her to handle them with tenderness…but, the way Captain Sorn described it, it seemed…somehow it seemed more vicious, almost like deliberate murder.

He wondered if he'd known any of those guards. Had he and one or more of them gone on shore leave together? Maybe shared a few drinks?

But how could he blame her? She was, after all, a rebel agent on an Imperial ship…what was she supposed to do? Send them flowers? But this…torn apart? Starfire? "Sir, I'm not sure what you mean by 'unusual.' The, the alien was, well, alien, I mean. I mean, she flew, she ripped steel girders with her bare hands. She certainly could kill like that. Is that what you mean?"

Sorn leaned back, scratching his neck. "Not exactly. Understand, there's a difference between fighting in a battle, and straight up assassination. And this. This seems to be more of the latter...but carried to an almost feral degree. We don't have just an enemy agent on board; we've got an assassin. An evidently well-trained one, too. At least, I'd prefer to think it was an assassin, and not some…thing.

"I guess what I'm asking you is, do you think the…alien…is capable of such cold-blooded viciousness?" And suddenly, Cork Vanderk understood.

Captain Sorn knew, or intuited, perhaps, that he, Imperial Stormtrooper Private First Class Corl Vanderk, had had a hand—perhaps a very personal hand-in the escape of the alien. He might not have any proof, but his intuition was telling him that the young man in front of him was responsible for the alien still being at large. He knew this…but without proof.

And he was trying, in his own way, to contain the matter without getting that proof.

So he was asking, as one Imperial soldier to another, perhaps even as one man to another, if Corl Vanderk had any information that might prevent these deaths, these assassinations…and any more to come.

It was one thing to rip up steel girders and throw them at the enemy. It was another to sneak up on people, and, by sheer strength, rip them apart, no matter what the circumstances. Was Starfire capable of that?

He remembered that laugh, that peck on the forehead she'd given him. All so…innocent seeming. Yeah, he'd known she was an enemy, but this just didn't seem in character, dammit!

Unless he'd hideously misjudged her.

Or, unless…

4DC…

"…Things happen down here; equipment failures, people get sick, accidents…"

"…people get sick…"

Starfire, just how long were you down there on 4DC, anyway?

Aloud: "Sir, I…understand…" He spread his hands in what he hoped looked like an honest gesture, "I…didn't get that good a look at the…creature, but…to the best of my knowledge, I…would have thought that, had that been her way, she would have taken us all out, one by one, picked us off. I mean, I mean, she would've had ample opportunity, what with those darkened corridors, and 4DC ready to scramble our suits and weapons. She had been hiding from us there. But instead, it seemed like she fought us as any enemy soldier would, frontline style, taking us all on, single-handedly. I guess what I'm saying is, I saw no indication that she was, was an assassin, as such. She didn't act the way I'd expect an assassin to act like. But I can't swear, on that basis, that she wasn't." Starfire, could you really do that?

Did you?

"Tell me, young man," said Sorn "Were you to be in the same predicament as she obviously is, how would you respond?"

"Guerrilla warfare, sir" he said, unhesitatingly. He'd been well trained by the Academy for just that sort of thing, just as his classmates and fellow graduates had. "Take out the communications and transport systems first, isolate them from any aid, which would also result in their demoralization, then focus on passive defenses, so they would be vulnerable to outside attack. Then I'd concentrate on heavy armor, with small arms and troops last."

"But no assassinations?"

"Too risky, sir. At least, not with communications and artillery still in place. Assassinations would demoralize the enemy, sir, but, since I presumably would have limited manpower, I couldn't afford to lose anyone, or take on high-security personnel where I or someone in my group might be captured and interrogated. Sir, were it me, sir, given this particular situation, I'd attempt to sabotage the battle station's propulsion mechanism."

"You would? Why?"

"Weapons are too well defended, but a mobile battle station stranded between the stars, in interstellar space, wouldn't be much threat to the rebels, and I'm assuming she is one. Or an agent of theirs, at least. They could then pick us off at their leisure. Uh, sir, I mean, sir." C'mon, Starfire, I'm going out on some really thin ice here.

Please don't make me regret it.

"Hm. I see," said Sorn, his eyes very narrow. Suddenly, he leaned forward across the desk, closing the gap between them by half. "You know," he said, in a voice so low as to almost be a whisper (and, Vanderk suddenly realized, too low to be picked up by any listening devices which might be present), "you wouldn't be the first young man to…misjudge…someone based on their…appearance. It's no crime to make mistakes—not yet, anyway—but it is a crime not to learn from them." Vanderk's gulp wasn't quite audible. After a moment in which Sorn very carefully watched him, the captain leaned back into his chair. Vanderk thought his normal stern expression had a hint of the sorrowful in it. Vanderk hated that. To him, Captain Sorn exemplified the ideals of the Service he served, and he could think of no better role model. "Well, then, if you've nothing else to add," he continued in his normal tone of voice, "I guess we'll have to go with that. I've reviewed the recordings your suit made. Perhaps I'll need to get with you later, discuss some particulars.

"That will be all, Trooper. Return to your squad."

….

The Millennium Falcon: deep within the innermost confines of the secret compartment, Beast Boy watched over Raven, and fretted. She'd been in this healing trance a long time now. He didn't really know how long it would take her to heal, or whatever it was she was do-* "G-Garfield?"

"Rae? Rae! You're awake!"

Raven sat up, as best as she could in the confined quarters. "Yes, I…seem to be." She put a hand to her head. "What happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know. All of a sudden, you just keeled over. Rae, are you alright?"

She rubbed the back of her head. "I…am honestly not sure how to answer that, Garfield. Physically, I am well. But…" She winced. "I have never felt such a psychic wave of agony such as I experienced, not since the destruction of Azarath itself. I…do not feel my father's presence…but in a strange way, I sense a presence similar to his." She paused a moment, while he digested that. A presence similar to Trigon the Terrible's? That couldn't be mistaken for good if you put whipped cream and a cherry on it. "Where are we?"

"We're still on board Han's ship, the Millennium Falcon. Right now, we're the only ones here. We're in a secret compartment Han uses to smuggle in spices. The others are out trying to get us free. We got pulled in by one monster of a tractor beam. "

"Where is Ben? And Luke?"

"Out. Ben said something about finding the tractor beam mechanism, and Robin and the rest went to see what they could do. Robin's convinced Starfire's here somewhere; naturally, he's trying to find her, and Luke's trying to free some princess who's supposed to be here. Han, I don't know about. I would think he'd be with them, but…"

She suddenly sat bolt upright, as best as she could in the confined space. It had never been designed for people, just cargo. "Garfield, this is a, a focal point! What I sensed…it's here!"

To be continued…?