Part 10

Lieutenant Colonel Ljana Castell waited impatiently outside the door to the room where Governor Oston was being wined and dined by the Diazez Cartel Manwah. He would be in his element, she knew. She had been able to tell it from the tone of his voice earlier, when he had spoken to her before she had descended into the depths of the manor for her little chat with the Rebel Lieutenant Commander.

Oston loved wining and dining. He was a social animal, always at home when he was being given the opportunity to impress someone with his family connections, or his money... or this new power that the Governorship had brought to him. Personally, Ljana thought he was a self-important, deprecating piece of slime: but she would never admit that to his face, and she would defend him to any who criticised him... because he had been good for her career.

Without his patronage and guidance, she would never have been in the position she was now. It was he who had quietly spoken in her father's ear about how her beauty could be an asset to those tasked with rooting out the malcontent elements working inside the Empire to try to bring it down. A beautiful woman could find out things more easily than a male counterpart. A beautiful woman could get into places or talk their way out of situations more easily than a male counterpart.

Ten years down the line and Oston had risen to the rank of Governor, while she had become a Lieutenant Colonel in the ISB. It had been inevitable that Oston had requested her as his head of security. The friendship between Ljana's family and Oston's, safeguarded confidentiality and guaranteed against treachery.

Which was how she found herself here, standing outside an intricately carved door, in the ornate foyer of an immense mansion in the capital city of a planet near enough to Coruscant itself for Oston's family to be beaming with pride and self-satisfied glory.

The doors finally opened. A petite, brunette bowed to her, telling her, "The Manwah and Governor Oston will see you now..."

Behind the woman, Oston's laughter confirmed Castell's theory that the Governor was, indeed, enjoying himself immensely.

She followed the brunette into the room, walking up to the table and saluting smartly.

"Ah!" Oston smiled, introducing, "Manwah, may I present Lieutenant Colonel Castell. She is my, very able, head of security."

Jenniiya had recognised the white uniform of an ISB officer. She also knew that this was, in all probability, the person who had been down in the cells with the Rebel pilots, interrogating them. Wondering what those interrogation methods had entailed, and how much the Lieutenant Colonel had been able to get out of them, Jenniiya found a gracious smile, offering, "Will you join us for kaffin, Lieutenant Colonel?"

"Thank you, Ma'am," Castell replied, "but my duties require me elsewhere..."

"So what do you have to tell us?" Oston asked her.

Jenniiya braced herself, knowing that everything might just be about to come crashing down around her.

"Had we arrived only two days earlier, Governor," Castell began, "we might not only have captured the four Rebels, but also the freighter Millennium Falcon."

Oston turned, giving Jenniiya a look of comradely satisfaction. That was exactly the information she had given to him.

"There were four Rebels," Castell continued, "all pilots, here to collect six Incom T-65 fighters. They were to remain in the hotel until tomorrow, awaiting their contact."

"Six fighters?" Jenniiya echoed. "I'm assuming that it would need a good-sized building or area to house that number. That would draw attention. I have heard no information that would bring me to conclude that the fighters are already here..."

"Then we may have some movement tomorrow," Oston surmised. "Good... good..." He turned back to Castell, "And what other information have you been able to glean from our Rebel friends?"

"Aksha, as anticipated, knows nothing of value except for the location of the Rebel base they left from," Castell supplied. "Antilles is proving to be a little more problematic. As the Manwah indicated, he is badly injured. I've been unable to employ the usual methods. He did, however, confirm how long the Rebels were to remain on Gehndaaria."

"But you will break him?" Oston verified.

"Once I have a more complete medical profile of his condition, and know exactly what I'm working with, it will only be a matter of time," Castell confirmed. "He's already weakened and responding to basic techniques, I just need to know how far I can go."

Oston smiled, "Then I shall leave it in your capable hands, Lieutenant Colonel."

Knowing that she was being dismissed, Castell saluted Oston and the Manwah, then turned smartly and marched towards the door.

Jenniiya watched the Lieutenant Colonel go. Castell was a dangerous woman, one that Jenniiya needed a complete dossier on before she settled any more comfortably into the Head of Security's chair.

Jenniiya knew that Lyn would already be gathering all the information she could, but Jenniiya decided that she needed a more personal insight. Turning to Oston, smiling, she asked, "Your Lieutenant Colonel is a very accomplished, very beautiful woman. How did you find her?"

oo0oo

"Hey, Luke!" Hobbie greeted, walking across the room towards him, "You're up!"

Luke smiled at the other pilot, agreeing, "I'm up." Then he turned his attention to business, asking, "How are the X-wings?"

"They look fine… mostly," Hobbie began. "The droids say that everything is in working order... except... the weapons systems..."

Lainey swore. Alissha groaned. "How bad?" Luke asked. "What's wrong?"

"They won't come online," Hobbie supplied. "Didn't matter what we tried, they just wouldn't power up. There's no guns, no proton torpedoes, no targeting computer."

"But apart from that, they're flyable?" Luke pushed.

Hobbie nodded, handing over a datapad, "Brought all the info back for you and Brin to..." He trailed off, suddenly remembering that Brin and Wedge weren't there. Swallowing, wondering if he really wanted to know, he asked, "Have we heard anything?"

Lainey muttered something under her breath that Hobbie didn't quite catch. Luke shot her a look, telling Hobbie, "We've not heard anything."

"We've not seen anything, let alone heard!" Lainey put in.

"Don't!" Alissha warned, glaring at her.

Ignoring the atmosphere, Hobbie sank to his knees beside Luke's chair. "Everything else is normal, Boss," he told Luke. "We could fly them out right now."

"But with no way to defend ourselves," Luke concluded.

Hobbie nodded, "And with our current run of luck, I'm not sure I want to tempt fate that much..."

"We may have to..." Luke told her.

"It's not safe!" Hobbie pointed out.

"It's not safe here!" Luke countered. "So keep your mouth shut unless you have something more constructive to say!" Then he pulled rank as Hobbie opened his mouth to protest. "That's an order!"

Sighing, Luke relented, telling the pilots, "Look, I know this is tough, just sitting here, not knowing what's going on with Wedge and Brin… but we're not going to do them any good by arguing amongst ourselves. We have to trust the Manwah and her people. It's our only way of getting out of here: of getting Wedge and Brin out of here."

He looked at each of them, "Good order and conduct, to quote Major Derlin…"

There was a moment's silence. Then Alissha quipped, "If he's quoting Derlin, then we're really in trouble…"

Despite herself, Lainey giggled. Hobbie looked at Skywalker, who rolled his eyes and shrugged.

Smiling, Hobbie nodded, agreeing, "Good order and conduct, Commander. You got it."

"Good order and conduct," Alissha concurred, then apologised, "Sorry, Commander."

"Sorry, Commander," Lainey told him.

"Go on, all of you, get your heads down," Luke told them. "Let me look at this stuff in peace!"

He looked back down at the data from the astromech droids as the pilots did as they were told. He was supposed to make contact with the Alliance tomorrow, to confirm the coordinates for the rendezvous point with the Falcon, and agree on a time, unless they responded before that to the message the Cartel had sent warning them that the mission had been compromised.

As much as he hated the thought of flying the X-wings with no way of defending themselves, as long as they knew about the problem, they could work round it. He could apprise Alliance Command of the situation when he contacted them, arrange for other fighters to ride escort for the compromised X-wings.

Or they could make two jumps, rather than three, to the rendezvous. All they would have to do was have a back-up plan should they drop out of hyperspace on top of the Imperial Navy or a squadron of TIEs.

Back-up plan: turn and run.

With his pain meds beginning to wear off and the thought of Wedge and Brin being alone in a cell with an Imperial officer, Luke figured that, right about now, that sounded like a damned good plan.

oo0oo

"Who are you?"

Vezlentz turned at the demand. Looking at the white-uniformed Imperial officer, he retorted, "I'm a doctor looking after his patient!"

"Who gave you the authority to be here?" Castell demanded.

"I gave me the authority," Vezlentz countered, "on the grounds that this young man is under my care!"

"He is an Imperial prisoner," Castell contradicted, "And a Rebel terrorist!"

"He is a wounded human being in need of medical attention," Vezlentz shot back. "And you arguing the point is wasting both my time and yours! He needs to be removed to a Bacta tank," he concluded, bluntly.

"Impossible!" Castell told him.

"I was under the impression that you were trying to elicit information from him," Vezlentz countered smoothly. "I'm intrigued about how you plan to do that if he's dead! Because unless I am allowed to remove him to a Bacta tank, that's exactly what he's going to be! Dead!"

That wasn't entirely true. If Antilles was allowed time to rest and heal, there was no immediate threat to his life. Vezlentz, however, had a fair idea of what this woman had planned for him. Death, he had a feeling, would be a boon.

Castell looked at the doctor, an idea slowly beginning to form. Up until now, she had been concerned with getting hold of all the information Wedge Antilles had about the Rebel Alliance. Now, however, another opportunity was beginning to present itself, a possibility of delivering more than just potentially-outdated information on the Rebel Alliance.

Bacta...

Not the medical compound itself, but the properties it possessed. Isolation...

She wasn't prepared to push too far and risk the Rebel dying. And if she was going to have to wait until his body had healed before she could continue her interrogation, then she could utilise that...

In a Bacta tank, Antilles would be completely isolated from the outside world. Sensory deprivation was the first step in providing Oston with a compliant, repentant Rebel: one he could parade in front of the media in a very public display of admission and denunciation...

Unless he took the opportunity to ingratiate himself even more with the Emperor by handing Antilles over to Palpatine, personally, and allowing the Emperor the honour of exhibiting the Rebel terrorist to the galaxy…

She smiled.

The smile chilled Vezlentz. This, he realised, was not a woman that you would wish to cross. There was a coldness behind her eyes that made him, suddenly, very afraid for the young man lying unconscious on the cot behind him.

He swallowed, deciding that discretion was, perhaps, the better part of valour. He opened his mouth to suggest that there might be another way to help Antilles heal...

Then he frowned, completely thrown by the Imperial's sudden change in tone and manner as she told him, "It will be arranged. Now," she went on, looking past him to the dark-haired Rebel lying on the cot, "I require an in-depth medical report on this terrorist. Have it ready by the time I return."

Vezlentz started to protest, but she turned sharply, walking back out of the cell, the door slicing closed, leaving him alone with Antilles.

oo0oo

Yolan sat in the semi-darkness of the security office, pouring over the data on the displays in front of him. The Incom fighters were flight-ready, but not battle-ready.

They could push the Gribbs brothers for information, but that would take time: time they didn't really have. Now that the Imperials knew about the X-wings, it would be safer for everyone involved to load the fighters onto another ship and fly them out that way. That would also give them an opportunity to get Skywalker out at the same time as Hobbie and the two women...

All that Yolan needed to find was a freighter with a big enough hold for six X-wings: and that was proving problematic. Time and again, he found himself coming back to the Gribbs' ship...

The Diazez engineers hadn't had a chance to strip the ship down, however, and Yolan knew that Jenniiya would be loathed to utilise it until she was sure it was safe for her people to use. Would she be as reticent if it was the Rebels flying it?

Sighing, rubbing his face with his hands, he sat back.

"ISB has asked for an audience with Oston, Boss..."

Yolan turned, looking at the security monitor seeing the Lieutenant Colonel waiting in the foyer outside the reception room. "Another one?"

"Yes, Boss."

The second Imperial interrogator had already gone. He had left during Castell's previous audience with the Governor and Jenniiya. Yolan pushed himself to his feet.

"Inform me when she's returning to the cells!" he ordered, heading out of the security centre.

He raced down the steps to the lower areas and the detention cells, making his way down the corridor towards the cells where the Rebels were being held. Four stormtroopers guarded the two cells. The ones outside Antilles' cell looked at him, but didn't prevent him from going in.

Vezlentz looked up as the door opened, visibly relaxing when he recognised Nabrood.

"How is he?" Yolan asked as the door closed behind him.

"I'm worried about the nerve damage. And there's more tissue damage from the swelling…" Vezlentz supplied. "Our friendly ISB officer has agreed to let me put him in a Bacta tank..."

Yolan frowned at the tone in Vezlentz' voice, walking across the cell towards him. "You don't sound too pleased about that."

The Doctor straightened, turning back to look at Yolan. "The woman has ice-water in her veins!" he told Nabrood. "I don't trust her. She is not the sort to agree to help this young man, not without some ulterior motive!"

Yolan considered that for a long moment then asked, "How is the other Rebel?"

"They beat him!" Vezlentz snapped. "They broke his ribs!"

"Is he healing?" Yolan asked, countering Vezlentz' emotion with measured calm.

The doctor sighed, "Yes… his bones are knitting… but they most probably used thiohexium on him…"

"Thio what?"

"Thiohexium phenate," Vezlentz repeated then explained, "Known to Imperial officers as the Mind Probe. It combines with the epinephrine in the human body. That's why they beat him. It inhibits certain receptors in the brain, makes you more susceptible to answering questions. One of the side-effects, however, is nausea. He should be given nothing to eat until the drug wears off. The retching might crack his healing ribs…"

"I'll have someone monitor him," Yolan told him then asked, "Did she beat Antilles? Use this Thio stuff?"

"It doesn't appear so," Vezlentz answered. "No doubt she was afraid of inadvertently killing him. She's looking for a medical dossier on him…"

Yolan considered that for a moment. "Thank you," he told the doctor, turning and heading out of the cell, ignoring the stormtroopers. Pressing the PTT switch on his earpiece as he walked towards Aksha's cell, he called, "Gage?"

There was a short silence, then, "Here, Boss."

"The Doc needs Aksha watched," Yolan told him. "Something to do with the drugs they gave him."

"I'll get it sorted, Boss," Gage assured him.

Yolan walked passed the stormtroopers into Aksha's cell, moving across to where the Rebel sat slumped against a wall. He dropped to his knees, resting a hand on Brin's shoulder. The Rebel flinched away from the touch, dragging his eyes open to look at Yolan.

Nabrood smiled at him, asking, "How goes it?"

"Crap," Brin supplied, forming the word slowly, as if he had to concentrate hard to find it. "What… what did I… tell them…?"

"Only what you had to, my friend." Yolan supplied. "Only what you had to."

Brin's head dropped then came back up again. "Wedge?" he asked.

"The physician is with him," Yolan assured him. "He says you may feel sick, because of the drug. I have arranged for someone to stay with you. They will be here shortly."

oo0oo

Oston smiled at Castell as she was shown into the room. The Lieutenant Colonel nodded in respect to Jenniiya then turned to the Oston, telling him, "My apologies, Governor, but an urgent matter has arisen which, unfortunately, requires your immediate attention."

Had anyone else tried to draw him away from this meeting, and Oston would have flatly refused to leave, sending them away. Castell, however, was a different matter. Uncrossing his legs, rising to his feet, he turned to Jenniiya, sighing theatrically. "Manwah, I regret," he apologised, bowing, "The responsibilities of my position, you understand."

Standing, wondering if the urgent matter was the fact the she had killed Antilles, Jenniiya assured, "I do indeed, Governor Oston. We must be ever vigilant."

She offered her arm, as etiquette demanded, escorting him out of the room, leaving Castell and Lyn to follow. "It has been a pleasure, Governor."

Oston smiled, "Indeed, it has. You must allow me to return the compliment, to conclude these talks. Lunch, perhaps? Have your lovely assistant arrange it."

"I shall, Governor," she smiled, withdrawing her arm as they reached the foyer. "Good night."

She looked past him to Castell, "Good night, Lieutenant Colonel."

Castell nodded in acknowledgement, following Oston to the door and out into the night.

Jenniiya's smile faded. She shuddered, telling Lyn softly. "I need a long soak in a hot tub to get rid of that man's slime... See how badly the Rebels are injured and what they have told Castell and her people," she went on. "Find out how badly we're undone. I'll be in my rooms…"

oo0oo

Castell settled into the shuttle opposite Oston, telling him, "We have been presented with an opportunity, Governor."

He crossed his legs, clasping his hands and quirking an eyebrow, "Indeed?"

"Lieutenant Commander Antilles," Castell supplied. "He will need medical attention before I can continue his interrogation. The physician believes he's badly enough injured to warrant the use of Bacta. And if we must employ a tank, I propose we put it to good use…"

"Go on," Oston told her.

"The tank can double as a perceptual isolation tank," she continued. "I believe I can not only break Antilles, but modify him…"

Oston frowned, fighting back a small flash of irritation, "Modify him? Lieutenant Colonel, I am not a stupid man, but I am not practiced enough in your art to understand your jargon!"

"Forgive me, Governor," Castell apologised. "In plain language, I believe I can not only break Antilles but turn him: persuade him of the error of his ways and deliver him to you, ready to confess his crimes against the Empire and denounce the Rebel Alliance."

Oston quirked an eyebrow, considering the merit of what she was suggesting. "And," he began finally, "why would that interest me?"

Castell smiled. "Antilles is wanted for a number of crimes, Governor, most notably for his involvement in the destruction of the Death Star at Yavin… along with Skywalker…"

A slow smile pulled itself across Oston's face as he realised what Castell was suggesting. "And a 'hero' of Yavin not only announcing the demise of Skywalker, but also denouncing the Rebel politics would somewhat dent their spirits…"

Castell waited for a moment then dropped her gaze, suggesting, "The Emperor might also be pleased by that thought…"

Making a small sound of disgust, Oston corrected, "More importantly it might temper his displeasure about Skywalker's untimely death at the hands of those incompetent bounty hunters!" He smiled, coldly. "Perhaps I should give them to him also…"

He shook his head, decision made. "Do whatever it takes, Ljana," he ordered. "Break Antilles, turn him, and then bring him to me."

"And the other man?" Castell asked. "Aksha?"

"Get what you can from him, then leave him for the Manwah," he told her. "A gesture of good will. We can always return for him, should the Emperor desire his presence. And forget about the Downhigher woman," he went on, "unless you believe that she will be useful."

Castell shook her head, "Downhigher is of no tactical importance."

"Then she can remain another, nameless, dead Rebel…"

"Another gesture of good will?" Castell ventured, quashing the small smile that threatened on her lips.

"You know as well as I do," Oston reminded her, "how much sway the Diazez Cartell holds here. I am not so naive as not to realise that my Governorship will run far more smoothly with the Manwah and her people on board…"

And this close to Coruscant, Castell knew, any rumours of dissent would reach the Emperor almost as soon as they reached Oston. It was only concern about inviting Palpatine's scrutiny so soon after taking up his position of Governor that had stopped Oston storming the Manwah's manor to find the Rebels: a decision he was more than happy about, now that he had radically reassessed his impression of the Manwah and the Cartel.

"Break Antilles," Oston told her again, "turn him… and leave the politics to me."

Castell nodded, acknowledging, "Yes Sir."

oo0oo

Yolan stood beside Lyn as she pressed the call-button outside Jenniiya's door. The door slid back, admitting them and they stepped through. Jenniiya had already showered and was towelling the moisture out of her hair.

"Damage?" she asked.

"Very little," Yolan told her. "Antilles and Aksha have resolved on a plan to tell only part of the truth..."

Jenniiya looked at him. "What?"

Yolan gave her a small, cold smile. "Interrogation is an imprecise science," he told her. "You can never be sure if the subject is telling you the truth or simply telling you what they think you want to hear. In this case, Antilles has concocted a story to feed ISB: half lies, half truth, easily remembered. He and Aksha agreed on it in the cell waiting for the Imperials to arrive. Even under drugs, Aksha remembered the fabrication."

"Which is?"

"Four pilots collecting six X-wings," Yolan supplied. "And the contact would identify themselves as Phoenix, not Organa… That was all they discussed. It was all Aksha needed to know. I brought you the recordings to review," Yolan finished, putting a datachip on the table.

"That's all very well," Lyn pointed out, "but what do we do if they start asking other questions that implicate the Cartel? Or if the Rebels break completely and start telling the truth?"

"Then we dispose of them," Jenniiya announced.

Nabrood looked at her. "The Rebels?"

"And the Imperials," Jenniiya told him.

"Manwah," Lyn cautioned.

"We are recording the interrogations," Jenniiya began. "If Antilles or Aksha implicate us, we dispose of them and the Imperials. Then we alter the recordings. As far as Governor Oston will be concerned, we gave his Lieutenant Colonel permission to remove the Rebels to the Imperial detention cells. We cannot be held responsible if their transport disappears between here and there. We will, of course, offer Oston the recordings to peruse."

"And what do we tell Skywalker?" Yolan asked.

"That regrettably, they died under Imperial questioning."

It wasn't what she had wanted. None of this was what she had wanted. Giving six Incom fighters to the Rebel Alliance had seemed so simple that she had gone against the explicit wishes of the Chieftain Council. And now, because of that decision, courageous, brave people might have to die… but she was the Diazez Manwah and her primary concern had to be the Cartel.

It was something she should have remembered when she decided to buy the X-wings. It was something that she would not make the mistake of forgetting again.