Chapter Twenty Nine

A long, sleek form passed silently through empty space; the Republica was on the move. Dozens of gashes and patches of blackened hull plate adorned the cruiser, a testament to the desperate battle the ship had recently survived. A faint aura of blue light trailed the ship, generated by half a dozen tubular thrusters arrayed at its rear. The energy emitting from the drives was far less than the powerful Mon Calamari vessel was capable of producing, just enough to inch the ship through the interstellar blackness. The Republica was hiding, prey in a very dangerous game.

Captain Imal Ryceed stared out of her vessel's bridge viewport nervously, her eyes fixated on a huge rocky object that filled the light cruiser's screen. Around her, human and Mon Calamari officers monitored sensor stations and engineering readouts in silence, some occasionally trading anxious glances with each other. One of them, a human Lieutenant named Botrates, began to yawn, but swiftly stifled the sound with his hand. His eyes flitted over his fellow officers, and he hoped embarrassedly that none of them had noted the unprofessional behavior. However, the others were feeling similarly stressed and exhausted, so none of them paid Botrates any heed.

Ryceed, however, did notice, but instead of rebuking the officer as she might have done under more normal circumstances, she just sighed, flexing her long fingers as they lay folded on the small of her back. They were all tired; no one had gotten any real rest in the several days since the Republica had escaped the battlefield that was the Sullust system. The Imperial ambush there had devastated the rebel fleet, and only two warships and a smattering of smaller vessels had escaped. Admiral Ackbar and his command ship were gone; the Mon Calamari had sacrificed his life to buy time for the Republica's escape, as well as for the Redemption, the frigate that carried what remained of the Alliance High Command.

After pausing to retrieve the fighters and escape craft that had managed to slip away with them into hyperspace, the Redemption and Republica split up. The frigate, carrying Mon Mothma, General Madine, and General Rieekan, and escorted by the few remaining Alliance corvettes and gunships, as well as Wedge Antilles' Rouge Squadron, was to make to make for the rendezvous point, a distant point in the Outer Rim. Ryceed's ship was to move to the same system, but by a different route. Since the rebel fleet had been routed, imperial patrols and interdictor checkpoints had formed a nearly impassible net over several sectors known to be hotbeds of resistance, hoping to crush the Alliance while it was still reeling from the recent defeat. Because of this, it had been difficult for the Mon Calamari cruiser to travel, forced to use obsolete hyperspace lanes and travel through uninhabited star systems.

Despite the best efforts of Captain Ryceed and her crew, the Republica, upon reverting from hyperspace to navigate around a system populated by several large gas giants and a late-stage sun, had finally been pinned. The tactical officers detected two Imperial Star Destroyers already in system, most likely hoping to catch any smugglers or rebels who dared to use the system for cover, and the Republica had been forced to hide in-between a small asteroidal moon and its host gas planet, narrowly avoiding the notice of the imperial craft. The rebel ship was trapped in the mass shadow of the planet, and the patrolling imperial forces were inadvertently keeping the ship from venturing out into a clear jump area.

Ryceed, anxious to break the deathly silence that had settled upon the bridge, unfolded her slender hands from her back and turned from the viewport. "What is the status of those imperial destroyers?" the slim and neat captain asked, her normally smooth voice cracked and tired. A Mon Calamari standing at the primary sensor station double-checked the readouts before him before answering. "No change sir," he wheezed in reply. Ryceed smiled slightly. Traditional military discipline was sometimes absent among the volunteer ranks of the Alliance, so she appreciated it when someone appropriately acknowledged her rank. "The Star Destroyers are still blocking the most direct escape vectors. The enemy craft are covering each possible hyperspace inversion and reversion point with a sensor net, and with the amount of gravimetric distortion in this system, our choices are very limited," the officer concluded. Ryceed walked up next to him and looked at the readout for herself. "Have you been able to determine the pattern of their sensor scans?"

Another officer spoke up, and Ryceed turned to him. "They're patrol pattern is fairly straightforward, moving to each likely jump coordinate every fifteen minutes, and employing their passive scanners to sweep the rest of the system for strong signals," the man said wearily. "The active nature of this system's star has reduced some of they're sensor accuracy and range, but it has also cut off a large number of exit paths available too us. Even with only two destroyers, given our current location, the Republica will almost certainly be detected and cut off before we leave the mass shadow of the star and this gas giant." The captain sighed and ran her right hand through her short, brown hair contemplatively. "It seems that our only choice is to remain hidden until a hole in the sensor net can be located. Keep the ship on minimal running power, and inform me of any new developments."

The Republica's starboard docking bay was abuzz with activity, as fighter pilots, technicians, and droids worked to ready the various craft in the hangar for combat. The atmosphere aboard ship had been tense over the last few days, its crew left with nothing to do save brood upon the devastating loss that had killed so many comrades might very well have been a death blow for the rebel cause all together. However, now that they had something to do, moods were brightening somewhat, and the sound of starship preparation was complemented with the low rumble of pre-battle banter.

From an open entry hatch, Commander William Riker watched the display of rebel resilience and spirit. He, like the rest of the Federation crew, was in a fairly dower mood. Considering the tremendous losses they had sustained over the last few weeks, the Enterprise destroyed, most of its crew likely in an imperial gulag, the death of Doctor Beverly Crusher was especially damaging to moral. The captain seemed to be taking it especially badly, and had been extremely reclusive and distant since they escaped the Home One. Of course, there wasn't much that any of them could do; with the attempts at contacting the Federation on most likely permanent hold, they were little more than baggage. None the less, Major Truul had made endeavored to make special accommodations for them, and thus the Enterprise's former crew and the other guests were allowed free reign over the non-sensitive areas of the ship.

And So Riker was leaning against the hangar doorway unobstructed, watching a little R2 astromech unit scurry along the crowded flight deck. It accidentally rammed into a mechanics tool kit and sent its contents spilling onto the deck. The tech cast a furious look onto the diminutive droid and began to shout insults, but as soon as the first words left his mouth, the droid was already rolling away, whistling something akin to a hasty apology. Riker stifled a laugh at the spectacle, and it occurred to him that even the simple mechanic robots had an easier time interacting with humans than Data did, and he was the most advanced cybernetic life form ever created in the Federation's history.

As Riker mused, his eyes wandered around the large chamber until they fell upon the other side of the open hatch. There stood the young Jedi Knight Jacen Solo, who also seemed to be taking in the sights. Young Jacen was of this galaxy, but not this time, for him it was all history. It must be a very strange feeling, Riker decided, living and even shaping one's own past.

The commander was about to speak to the man, but he first noticed that Jacen was staring fixatedly at one point in the chamber beyond, and so Riker followed his gaze. It fell upon a battered, gray vessel, so badly carbon-scored and patched with replacement parts that it looked barely flyable. On top of the ship, a tall, hairy humanoid, a Wookiee if Riker recalled the name correctly, was hunched over a piece of the hull that had been melted away by laser fire, and was welding a new armor plate in place over it, his eyes shielded by large, black goggles. Next to the ship's landing struts stood two other figures, human, a man and a woman. The man, dressed in a black vest, was fiddling the hydraulics power cable on one of the struts, while the woman, dressed in a white Rebel Fleet uniform, looked on.

With the rumble of machinery and conversation all around them, Riker couldn't make out what either figure was saying, but he was sure they were talking. The woman in white folded her arms and stepped closer to the man, but he continued working, evidently ignoring her. She shook her head and said something else, but the man seemed to still be ignoring her for the most part. The woman, frustrated, took another step closer, and unfolded her arms, gesticulating slightly when she spoke again. At this, the man froze, and then slammed the tool he was using into the starship's landing gear, creating a clang heard even over the racket of the flight deck. The man growled something and then turned away, and the woman faltered slightly, almost stepping away. Instead, she moved forward again, putting her arm around the man's shoulders slowly. At first he began to recoil, but when she did not let go, he slumped, and accepted the embrace. The two figures were in each others arms for a few moments, and then they were apart again, back to work on the rickety starship.

Riker glanced back at Jacen, who was still watching the two. "Do you know them?" Riker asked, moving closer. Jacen looked up, seemingly startled, and a faint redness crept into his cheeks. "Oh, well…" he paused, seemingly considering whether or not he should respond. Riker noted that the man looked very uncomfortable with the subject, and was about to retract the query when Jacen replied. "Actually, I do. They're…my parents." This gave Riker pause. The woman looked hardly twenty five, and the man not much older. How could they be the late teenage knight's parents? Then the obvious donned on the commander.

Jacen turned back to view his parents again, but they were gone, either inside the ship or hidden among the crowd. Sighing, Jacen straightened up, nodded at Riker in a distant manner, and walked off down the hallway, immersed in his own thoughts. Riker looked after him and considered following, but decided against it. The man had just as many problems as the rest of them did, cut off from home, suffering from the loss of one he cared about, and Riker felt he had no right to interfere. The Federation officer turned back to the flight deck and began scanning it again. After all, there was little else for him to do at the moment.

Captain Ryceed stared incredulously at the holo-projector before her, or rather the space above it. There, displayed in flickering bluish strands of code, a female figure floated, staring back obstinately. "What?" the image asked in a somewhat haughty female voice. "It's a perfectly valid plan. It's either that, or we stay her until those imperial cruisers leave. Are you willing to risk waiting?" Imal Ryceed didn't enjoy being talked down to, especially not by a droid, or computer, or what ever the AI Cortana was, and if it wasn't for her orders, she would have turned of the projector right then and there. However, before the Republica had split off from the other rebel warship, orders had come through from Mon Mothma herself that these strange, extra-dimensional visitors were to be given quarters and even some diplomatic privileges, and were to be well taken care of. In addition, it was stated than if any of them had useful information or expertise on a matter of significance and wished to consult Ryceed, she would be obligated to listen.

Ryceed grudgingly complied, but she tried to keep the last part of the order away from her charges; the last thing she wanted was advice from some random extra-galactic, diplomatic privileges or not. However, the final stipulation had somehow managed to find its way into the notice of Cortana, and ever since then, she had been delving into the non-secure portions of the Republica's computer network (Ryceed suspected that Cortana might be attempting to bend the "non-essential" clause in the arrangement.)

"So let me see if I understand this," the Captain intoned slowly. "You want me to take my ship through a star." Cortana's representation rolled its eyes and sighed. "You know what I said captain," she replied. Then the projection disappeared, replaced with a field of holographic stars. Other officers moved closer, interested in the antics of the brash AI. Few organic crewmen aboard the ship could talk the way Cortana did to Ryceed without earning a few weeks trash compactor maintenance duty.

From the starfield blossomed a small representation of the star system they were currently trapped in, a backwater known only by its survey designation BT-556072, complete with models of five gas giants, the primary, the two destroyers, and the Republica. Cortana's voice wafted over the projector's speakers again, and the model began to rotate slowly. "We are here, hemmed in by the gravitation forces of these two planets, as well as the outlier effects of the primary," Cortana began, highlighting each of the subjects in turn with a blue light. "These are the Imperial Star Destroyers. I will accelerate their patrol pattern." The two blips that were the enemy ships began to pirouette around the star, weaving a seemingly erratic course, one ship always on the other side of the sun from the other. "Now, due to the compromising nature of the gravitic forces in the area, and the impressive sensor capabilities of those ships, any run for a jump position on this side of the system will be detected by one of the destroyers, and we will be overtaken and destroyed." As Cortana drawled on, the representation played out her words, the tiny blip that was the rebel vessel making a break for the edge of the system, and being blown into pixels by a pursuing destroyer." Ryceed ran a hand through her hair again.

"Even though that course of action is doomed to end in failure, we still have a way out of here," Cortana continued. "If, in approximately seven minutes, when the orbital position of the planet we are orbiting is right, the ship moves at full speed towards the primary, the planet behind us will be enough to temporarily block us from the Star Destroyer's sensors. Then, instead of breaking off to the side, a move that would easily be detected, the Republica alters its course slightly; it can pass through the star's corona here." The blip, regenerated after its previous attempt, followed the AI's instructions, and began to skirt the outer layer of the star. "I realize this is an unorthodox and dangerous maneuver, but from what I know of your shielding and heat dissipation systems, which are quite impressive, this ship will be able to hold together."

"Now, the hard part's over. By cutting straight across system, and angling down in orientation forty degrees after the star is passed, we can skirt under the second destroyer's passive scanning field and from there, and the ship can simply cruise into a safe jump position."

Her speech over, Cortana's map disappeared and her blue form grew again in its place. "Well captain, there you have it," Cortana said smugly. Ryceed's eyes narrowed at the projection's persistently disrespectful behavior, but her plan did seem to make sense. "Can you confirm her estimations?" the Captain asked Commander Gavplek, one of her second-in-commands. The human man, who also served as the ship's chief tactical officer nodded slowly, as if still thinking over what Cortana had said. "I believe it can be done," he replied. "As long as we navigate around any potential flares and stay at a sufficient altitude, the shields will hold." Ryceed paused to consider again, and Cortana spoke up. "Six minutes until the orientation. The window won't last very long," she warned, trying to add a touch of respect back into her tone. The captain shot another hard look at the projection. As much as see loathed being upstaged in front of her command crew, remaining in the system any longer was not an option. "Make ready."

Five and a half minutes later, the Republica shot like a torpedo out of its hiding place, its sublight drives blazing incandescent blue. As the long craft approached the target star, one of the imperial destroyers picked up a power spike in system. It altered course, and was soon navigating past the sensor barrier of the nearby gas giant. However, by that time, the rebel ship had already plunged into the star's incinerating corona. Superheated gas lashed against the Mon Calamari cruiser's shields, but they held, dissipating most of the obliterating heat. However, some of the energy was seeping through, and the ship's outer hull began to glow, surface blisters beginning to warp. A strip of durasteel plate began to peel away from the hull, curling backwards like a sheet of molten parchment paper.

At last, as the shields were beginning to overload, the cruiser burst from the cover of the star and angled down, out of sight of the destroyer that was occupied far above. Ryceed slumped into her command chair slightly with relief, and then caught herself. "Damage report." The rest of the bridge crew was also relieved, and the response was surprisingly cheerful in tone. "Moderate damage to the section B-4 and C-4 ablative armor plate. No casualties or other significant damage." The captain nodded, and glanced at the increasingly smug Cortana. "Your welcome," the projection prompted, and Ryceed inclined her head slightly towards her, a sign of grudging respect. "All right, renter the rendezvous point into the navicomputer and set course for the closest jump position, speed…" she never finished her sentence. From one of the ancillary sensor stations, the one controlling the ship's passive scanners, a Devaronian crewman spoke up. "Sir, I'm picking up another power source in our immediate vicinity."

The Captain leaned forward in her command seat warily. "One of the destroyers?" The red-skinned man altered some of his controls. "No, it's not showing up as any known type of power source. However, it's definitely artificial; the emissions are far too regular for a natural phenomenon." Another sensor officer checked his own readings. "I believe I have localized the source, fifteen thousand kilometers off the port bow." Ryceed swiveled back to the viewport, which was now showing empty starfield, the star was far behind and above the Republica now. "Show me."

The forward center panel switched from one starfield scene to another, the second with the system they had just escaped as a distant backdrop. "Increase." The viewport zoomed forward, and what was once an impossibly distant speck now filled the screen. The Captain, along with everyone else on the bridge looked at the drifting object in fascination. "Nothing on file for that Captain," an officer said, answering her next question before she even asked it. From her projector platform, Cortana looked on as well, although she augmented her sight with a direct linkup to the visual scanner that was showing the organic crew the object. She sifted through her vast memory banks and swiftly compiled the appropriate information, applied it to the situation, and reached a conclusion. "Do you know what this is Cortana?" asked Ryceed, her attention split between the object and the hologram. The AI nodded. "Care to enlighten us then?"

Cortana paused for a moment before responding. "I think Captain Picard should take a look at this. He may be in a better position to answer than I."