Author's Note:

All right, another chapter it took me forever… actually, it has been finished and just sitting on my computer. Why? I have no idea. However, before you go any further, I figure that I need to mention a few things. One: if you read this chapter you probably will be shocked... maybe, it's a little dark, I guess… and a lot to digest, but do not lynch me! It is not as bad as it appears! This is all "necessary"... bear with me: it is not as wacky as it seems. Things shall become clear—besides, where is the fun in having things be near-perfect for the heroes? Doesn't leave much room for heroism. He, he, he… ;)

Two: I wrote around half of this chapter and gave it to a friend to read—the said friend relayed some shocking news to me... The said friend told me that the first scene involving Commander Nebula was very similar to a scene in another fan fiction, called Beginning of the End, I believe. Now I don't know how true that is—I have never read that particular fic and claim that I in no way copied anything and am by no means guilty of plagiarism. I repeat, I have never read that piece of fan fiction and in no way copied it, or took anything from it.

To EEZ (the author of the aforementioned fic), just in case you happen to read this chapter (or are told about it) I apologize for any similarities between our respective writing—repeat, I apologize for any perceived similarities. I did not know, and when I did "know" (I still don't know one might say), I couldn't change it much. Now, maybe I changed it enough, maybe not. But, I am sincerely sorry if you believe that I stole from your fic, in no way have I done so or ever shall. Maybe it's just like the old saying, "great minds think alike"?

I just figured that I should say all this before anyone reads my latest chapter, and I really hope that no one will be offended... or upset with what I am doing with BLoSC. All will be clear in time, and I'm not keen on giving spoilers. I take that back—I hate secrets, but I'm not dishing them out. So if you complain about something that is just weird about the story, I will have to say "keep reading."

Things are actually not coming to a climax in this story—too early, eh? Things are going to go up and down, like waves... this chapter is needed to introduce things and start the ball rolling for what is really going on.

And once more, EEZ, I sincerely hope that neither you nor anyone else will be upset by any similarities between this fic and yours. It was unintentional. You have my word on that.

Sincerely yours, Mandalore Thrawn

To my reviewers:

P.A.W.07: Thank you for your review; I very much appreciate it. Yes, Warp is seeing some conflict… Just wait, though, I am just beginning! ;) OCs… I appreciate your feelings towards OCs, only I happen to "need" a ton of those: they make this story, so to speak… I hope that you'll keep reading! I really appreciate your review!

Takara Matsudiara: Sorry that I didn't respond to you review my last post; I was in a hurry and forgot. I am really glad you like OA… seeing views but no reviews kind of discourages me sometimes, you know what I mean? I don't really think that's it's worth continuing a story that almost no one cares for, so reviews give me the excuse to keep going…

And I want to say thank you to you, for saying thank you to me. That I did not expect. Well, as I said, thanks for all those reviews; you have no idea how much that encouraged me...

==Chapter 10==

In Which All Chaos Breaks Loose

More ships went down. Police fell with gaping holes in their chests. Some frightened civilians ran—others brandished weapons and fired.

The Tangeans raced their cars toward Lightyear, who was keeping up a steady stream of fire.

Mira felt like dying—what was Buzz doing?

The lieutenant bit out a curse. "Sir! Somebody is shooting at us!"

"I don't see any lasers," Mira said, eyes frantically scanning the mob.

"They're not lasers—they're what we commonly refer to as slugs, or what humans call bullets."

"Are you serious?" King Nova said incredulously. "Such guns are outdated!"

"Outdated, maybe, do the work? Yes. And nobody knew that they were carrying them due to the fact that they aren't laser-based weapons. Actually, it's very smart…"

"Brilliant," King Nova muttered. He jerked forward violently as something slammed into the side of the car—hard. The vehicle began to descend far too rapidly. "Driver!"

"Sir, we won't crash!" the driver shouted back.

"You really think you can pull a landing out of this?" Mira shrieked, clutching her door. She was a trained police pilot—she knew what crashes were like.

The driver didn't answer her, kept all his concentration on controlling their descent. The vehicle was smoking by the time the car hit the pavement, and the Tangeans stumbled out coughing. The second car set down to their left, to shield them from the majority of the fighting.

"Damage?" the lieutenant barked.

The driver looked up from the wreck and grimaced. "Let's just say we're walking. Sorry, sir."

The lieutenant nodded and pulled out his RPCR, checking the power as his men drew their own weapons.

"Lieutenant," the King frowned, "why didn't you tell me that you had those?"

"Sir? It's standard procedure to carry them." The lieutenant snapped his rifle into place and began tracking for any possible targets.

"Dad," Mira murmured, "don't we run a big risk of being shot down if we're seen carrying rifles?"

"They aren't technically rifles, Your Highness," a corporal offered, having overheard her; "we just call them that. Anyway, we'll be shot at whether we have them or not—this way, we can shoot back."

Mira shrugged, still unhappy.

The other Tangean commandoes joined them in ducking between the cars. Just in time. Multiple explosions sent debris banging against the cars—thankfully, nothing made it through to the middle.

"Stay down," Mira warned needlessly. "How far are we from the platform?"

"This is a big square, we were in the rear, but we were flying," the lieutenant replied. "However, there is a little something called a battle between us and there… and, actually, we're somewhat in the middle."

Mira decided to look around, and instantly wished she hadn't. Bodies littered the pavement. The gas was starting to clear, and very few civilians were still in the area, though some continued to slug it out with the police forces and security drones.

"I don't think many people came to fight," the lieutenant surmised, relieved.

"I guess not," the King said softly. "This must be the work of some rabble-rouses, although Lightyear and the politician certainly weren't helping things." He shot Mira a sharp look. "Is Lightyear still there?"

"I see him," a commando replied. "He left the platform and is… just a hundred or so meters away."

Mira nodded. "Okay… if we can get close enough, we should be safe—even if he is acting wacky. Um, why don't you set your weapons to stun, please."

The commandoes traded uneasy glances. "You don't know much about combat rifles, do you," the lieutenant said hesitantly.

"Nooo," said Mira, not understanding. Then she got it, and she smacked her forehead. "Argh, you aren't carrying laser weapons!"

"No. For this weapon to be easily disassembled and concealed, the plasma stun setting had to be dropped—took too much room, you see."

"Greaaat!" Mira groaned. "Well, m'kay, try not to shoot, okay? Come on."

She almost smiled when she heard her father say, "You heard her men. I guess we'd better go."

They set off quickly towards Buzz, who strolled casually now, very little fighting still going. He stopped by a man lying on the ground, alive, struggling to get up. Buzz smiled slightly—and Mira realized there was something very wrong with that smile—reached for the man's hand, pulled him up, and with one smooth motion, snapped his neck and flung the corpse away, following up with a flash from his laser.

The Tangeans all halted, shocked. "No," Mira murmured brokenly. Then realization flooded her, and fury followed in the wake. "You're not Buzz!" She rushed at him, half blind, drawing her pistol…

The man whirled smoothly—she saw his icy, icy blue eyes and knew—and fired.

Something burned into her right arm.

She crumpled to the ground.

The lieutenant lifted his gun.

He fell back with a charred hole in his stomach.

Mira heard a voice screaming, and distantly realized it was her own.

The other commandoes dropped and fired at the murderer, who simply rocketed into the hazy sky.

"Lieutenant," Mira croaked, her eyes starting to burn and not from her own pain. I never even knew his name. Why didn't I know his name? "He wasn't Buzz…" She turned fractionally to her father, now kneeling beside her. "Daddy."

"Yes, Mira."

"I hate this planet." From somewhere far away, she heard the laserfire increase as her world smoked away to black.


"…And it looks like Star Command is deploying roughly half its on-station Rangers to Tradeworld, while many more are being recalled from various assignments across the galaxy to aid in what is now being called the 'Battle of Tradeworld'…"

Ghett could hardly believe the reporter. "It's working," he murmured.

"They sure know how to call the shots up at HQ," Jereca nodded.

The video feed switched from the news anchor to the fighting. Didn't look too violent anymore, but it was still happening, and it was real. It didn't need to be intense to work. People were definitely dying.

Several police charged into view, weapons blazing, and they all fell injured or dead as someone outside the video pickup returned fire.

"Hey," said Racker, "look at that pattern—I'll bet that was me!"

"Yeah, how do you do that?" Fixer joked. "It's not just anyone who can be at two places at once. And what'll you bet?"

"I'm exceptional… and what do I have to bet with?"

"Shut up," Giganticus growled, "I am trying to watch!"

"How much longer?" Jereca asked Ghett.

"Until it's done," the Gargantian said.

"Not you," she said, exasperated. "I mean how much longer until we do our job!"

"Oh."

Ghett checked the time. "Two hours until arrival, and then Rhizome needs to start first," he said. "We need to be patient—there are still too many Rangers. Once they're gone…"

"The mice with the big guns come out to play," Fixer said with a wicked laugh.

"Err, yeah, all though mice is hardly fitting and none too complimentary," Ghett pointed out.

"Eh, split the difference—it sounded good."


Dolb crouched silently in the shadows, waiting for Romac. The Grounder had entered Underb's Tradeworld residence two minutes ago and hadn't yet returned. The Royal heard a sound and drew his pistol noiselessly, aiming for the door… but it was only his new and very temporary partner.

Dolb rose to his feet and lowered the pistol. "I take it no one's home?"

"No one but the spiders," Romac grumbled, dusting webs off his rather absurd blue suit.

"Hasn't been used in a long time," Dolb surmised. "What happened to him?"

"Who knows? Whatever happens to people who works with Ares, I guess—just ask the others who went with him. Anyway, why again are you looking for Ares?" Romac asked nonchalantly.

"Others," Dolb repeated, ignoring the question. "The special team he gathered for an unknown contract."

"Yeah… he was offering more than any other job in the galaxy, and he got the best." The Grounder rubbed the back of his neck. "Some say it's his fault bounty hunters aren't as good anymore—he took the best at some point or other, and they all died." He shrugged. "It opened up the ranks for weaker thugs and amateur wannabies… somebody had to fill the void."

"Like you?"

Romac glowered at Dolb, who merely shrugged and entered the small room.

"Passages?" the Royal asked.

"Probably, but none that I can see."

Dolb took a seat at a desk bearing a rather large monitor connected to the wall, wiped the dust off the screen, and activated the machine. It whirred to life, and in a few seconds, a window appeared, requesting a password.

He turned to Romac, who shrugged. "Try ka-boom," the bounty hunter offered.

"Grounders," Dolb muttered, typing the word. He shook his head when the computer accepted the code.

Romac locked the front door and pulled another chair up to the desk. "I'm guessing this'll take a while."

Dolb didn't respond, his mind completely focused on the machine.


The first thing of which she was aware was a hard, gritty surface. Then came the noises, dimly. Then came the pain, and that was a much sharper sensation. "My arm is gonna be fried at this rate," she whispered dryly.

"Yes, I daresay it will be," her father admonished. "You mustn't be so reckless, Mira!"

For once, she was inclined to agree—not that she would ever admit it. "The lieutenant?"

"Dead," the sergeant growled. "Lightyear fired a point-four blast—nobody lives through one of those. Not without armor."

"I'll kill him, sarge," another voice said softly. Mira couldn't see who.

"Not yet," King Nova snapped. "We'll try the courts, and then he'll pay for this, mark my words!"

"No, Father!" Mira cried, alarmed, rising to a sitting position on her good arm. The world spun around her, but she ignored it. "That wasn't Buzz—he would never shoot me, never murder anyone, never kill a guard…" Her heart leapt into her throat when she caught her father's furious expression, and she clutched at his arm. "No! No, Daddy, Buzz would've disarmed us if he wanted us down—Daddy, you know him, you know he's a good man!" He still wasn't buying it… "Daddy, please, he's my commander, he's my best friend—"

The King rounded on her, glowering. "Not anymore, Mira! Until this cleared up, you are no longer a part of Star Command…" Mira recoiled as if slapped. "Do I make myself perfectly clear? I… I…"

Mira's cerulean eyes burned with a fire of their own. "That… that monsterwas not Buzz. You have to believe that."

"Then who was it?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, clenched her jaw. "I'm sorry," she said flatly. "That's classified."

"I see." The King's own jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. "Sergeant, can we move yet?"

"Sir, the police have almost everyone rounded up—we should be able to move." The sergeant turned his men. "If we're stopped, everyone keeps their hands clear of their guns, got it? The LEOs will be jumpy."

"Yes, sir."

"You two, grab the lieutenant."

"Sir."

The King helped his daughter up, and they started back for the cars, intending to fit into the larger, undamaged vehicle. A group of riot police intercepted them, however, at gunpoint, one of the officers stepping forward. "Identify," he ordered.

"King Nova, of Tangea," the King replied imperiously. "One of my men is dead, and my daughter is hurt. Where is Lightyear?"

"Gone," the officer said harshly. "ID, now." King Nova slowly drew out his wallet and handed his card to the officer, who scanned it briefly and nodded. "Okay, looks like you're clear—you can go, and we need everyone else's ID."

"Come, officer, you've seen mine, and these are my people."

"So? Just because you're the king of some other planet, we should just let everyone you want through?" He snorted. "Get real and tell your people to hand over their IDs."

King Nova would've disputed it, but Mira was in pain—so with a painful effort, he kept his mouth shut. Even so, it was about an hour before they were all able to leave—the TSOB commandoes' fake IDs really complicating matters—and by that time, Mira's arm was felt like it was burning.

"We can get everyone in the one car?" King Nova asked as they hurried away from the police.

"Yes, sir—it'll be a squeeze though."

"I don't care. Just get us to the nearest hospital, as fast as you can."

"Yes, Sire."

King Nova opened up his comm as soon as they were on their way. "Holbon," he snapped, "get on the comm to Star Command now and open up a lawsuit against Lightyear as quickly as is Royally possible."

"Father!" Mira protested angrily.

"Too late, Sire, sorry," Holben apologized. "The Tradeworlders all ready did so."

"Add mine to theirs! They won't object."

"No!"

"Yes, Sire. Err, Sire?"

"Speak up, man—don't mumble!"

"Yes, Sire… um, what are we suing him for?"

"Lightyear shot my daughter and killed a TSOB lieutenant," King Nova snapped and closed the communicator.

Mira's fierce glare could have burnt twin holes through her father. "He wasn't Buzz."

"All right, Mira. If he was not the man who shot you, we will find out at the trial."

"But he wasn't, period," she ground out. "I know who he was."

King Nova turned and looked her in the eye. "Who."

Mira bit her lip, though the fire in her eyes didn't fade. She needed to clear Buzz, but the portal had to remain secret. If her father found out about the stupid thing… there was no telling what would happen. But if it came out at the trial, anyway…

She opted for the third route. "Dad, just call Star Command and set up an appointment with Commander Nebula. I think he'll explain it to you—I just don't have authorization."

"Authorization!" he nearly roared. "Mira! Are you a Princess of Tangea or a Ranger for the Alliance?"

She raised her chin defiantly. "Both, and they don't need to conflict. I don't tell them about Tangea, and I don't tell you about Star Command."

He arched a sardonic eyebrow. "Yes, and you know so many Tangean secrets, eh?"

That stung, but she wouldn't continue this line. She was pretty sure that in a subtle argument, he would win—he had had much more experience… Though she would never admit that. "Call the Commander," she said firmly. "Cancel the lawsuit."

"Tradeworld already has one, anyway."

"Dad, they are rebels and rioters—who will listen? But if you add your weight to their cause, there's no telling what could happen! It could tear the Alliance apart…" She saw a thoughtful, sly grin creep across her father's face, and she knew bad had just gone to worse. Way worse.

"Quite right, Mira… my, you have grown perceptive, haven't you? I think that maybe I should talk with Nebula—perhaps the President, too."

"No, Daddy," she urged. "No, you cannot do this."

"Mira, it's time Tangea was in the position she deserves…" He reopened his comm. "Holben, cancel everything I said, understand?"

"Um, yes, Sire, err…" The poor man sounded baffled.

"Do as I say, Holben."

"Sire," he sighed.

Nova closed his comm with a grin that was far from friendly.

Mira fell back against the seat, feeling totally defeated. She'd finally come up against something she couldn't defeat—her own father's devious mind. He was too smart for his own good, and he would use this, down to the last centimeter…


Nebula switched off the news and sat down wearily, his mind racing. How did this happen?

A special double feature news story, titled "Shifting Universe"… it was bloody awful. Someone had leaked the supposed Rhizomian murderer secret, and the media all ready knew about Buzz's alleged part in what was being called the "Battle of Tradeworld" by the vultures. Nebula decided that when he found whoever had blabbed about Lepton, he would shove them out the airlock without a suit…

His comm beeped, and he flipped it open, prepared for the worst—he wasn't disappointed. "Commander Nebula," King Nova said genially, "what a pleasure to see you! I trust I am not interrupting anything important—I realize how busy you must be."

"Cut to the point," Nebula barked, not wanting to waste his time with the idiot.

"I trust you've seen the news?" His Royal-Pain-in-the-Highness continued, unperturbed. "Very efficient services these days… I think you and I should have a little chat about what occurred—for our mutual benefit, you see—and I was thinking that the President should be there, too."

"Sorry, Your Majesty," Nebula nearly sneered. "I don't think that's possible right now."

"Err, Commander Nebula," King Nova began slowly, "Tangea will leave the Alliance immediately if we don't meet, and I will offer legal and political aid to the rioters on Tradeworld, do I make myself quite clear?"

"Crystal," the Commander growled. "I'll arrange the meeting."

"Thank you. I'll be there in a few hours, as soon as I have my injured daughter settled."

"Mira? What's wrong? Not another—"

"Oh, no," the Tangean quickly interjected, "nothing like that. I'll discuss it with you when we meet, and be sure the President is there and no one else. Well, I suppose that's all, King Nova out…" He turned away but quickly turned back. "Oh, just as a note—" the king's grin widened—"Mira is sure that you can explain the 'Lightyear Incident.'"

Nebula angrily slammed the comm down, his initial concern for Ranger Nova turning to frustration. Blast that little princess, anyway.

He didn't turn to his other work, and he didn't call the president—he just waited. Waited for the call he knew he was going to get—and, once again, he wasn't disappointed.

The comm beeped, and Nebula stared at a purely black screen. "What took you so long?" he growled.

"Merely trying to decide how to play this," a smooth voice returned, female this time.

"Where's Taurios?"

"Busy—his schedule is hectic these days. For now you have to deal with me. Any objections?"

"Do I have a choice?" the Commander rumbled.

"Of course not."

"What happened to his last secretary?"

"We have a high mortality rate," the female voice quipped. Nebula wasn't quite sure that he wanted to know if she was being literal or not. "Now to business. You will set up the appointment, but you will say nothing about the Alternate Universe. Understand? Taurios's orders were specific on that."

Nebula could hear a trace of fear in her voice: she was scared he would back out now; scared he would finally show a backbone… Well, he couldn't. He knew he couldn't, and she knew it… and she was still scared.

"Yeah, I'll bet they were… Look, I've gone this far—why turn back now?"

"Why, indeed," she echoed. "Commander, you've done well. Keep it up, and—"

"I'm not in it for your rewards," the Commander bit out. "Not anymore. Taurios never promised me anything incredible when I signed up, and I want nothing from you now, understand? Nothing. I stopped caring a long time ago."

A beat. "We are close, Commander: soon we'll know for certain. Zurg's bomb surely couldn't have done it."

"You know it, and I know it, so do you have any ideas?"

"God," the voice said blandly.

Nebula shook his head. "That's close? Seriously… I hope you're not going to tell me next that the rip evolved?"

"No. The bomb served as a catalyst, maybe, but something else…"

He yawned. "Nothing we didn't all ready know, and Star Command is no closer, so the ball is in your park."

"No matter, Commander—just keep quiet."

He shrugged. "Hey, look, Miss-Whatever-Your-Name-Is, if I have to hurt Lightyear in this, I am out, understand?"

She probably knew that he wasn't completely serious, but then again, maybe she didn't know him well enough. "Understood," she said softly. "Lightyear won't go to prison, but Star Command will suffer."

"I knew that all along."

"Commander, who do you think is behind this?" she asked, curiosity coloring her tone.

He laughed slightly and mirthlessly. "I figure your people might have something to do with it."

"Funny." She didn't sound amused. "Commander, in all seriousness, we need something to go on here."

"You have your own people—they're smart."

"Yes…" she murmured. "They aren't as close to the situation."

"Maybe that's a good thing."

"Maybe… Things are finally moving along: Zurg is preparing, that idiot Nova is going to make a bid, the President…"

"Don't you dare!" the Commander shouted.

"Oh, no!" the voice responded, sounding properly shocked. "I'm no assassin, and Taurios wouldn't—"

"Taurios wasn't an assassin, and neither was Ares—not until you alienated him."

"Yes… Ares… I don't suppose he may be still alive…?"

"He's dead," Nebula said flatly. "Zurg murdered him—your agents told you that."

"Please, why would Zurg kill him?"

Nebula pondered that for a moment. "We still don't know why he hired him—Zurg changed right around then: stopped being smart, got dumber and dumber…"

"He nearly destroyed us," she pointed out. "The black hole, for instance, and the Evil Lightyear, and then the death-ray."

Commander Nebula waved his hand dismissively. "Stupid attempts—more like a whining six-year-old than an adult—and the other Lightyear would probably have gone on without Zurg."

"You think Ares hurt him? Zurg, that is."

"No, I think that that plague finally got to him."

"The Tangeans."

Nebula nodded, then realized that maybe she couldn't see the motion. "Yeah."

"Hmm, well, it could be, but we're worried he's on the mend from whatever happened. This lack of activity—"

"Of course, lack of activity means he finally redeveloped a brain," Nebula said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, Commander," she said contritely. "I realize that you are probably very stressed right now."

"Miss What's-Your-Face, I've been around a long time, I've been the Commander of Star Command almost as long as your people and I have been together, and I won't be sorry when this is over." He felt older and older every time he talked with them, and different... a whisper of the past… If only Lightyear knew… but how could good conquer "good"?

"Hmm, I don't blame you, Commander—we'll all sleep better over here, too. I'm sorry it has to be this way," she added as an afterthought. "But it looks like it's finally time—we'll be able to rest soon."

"Time," he growled. "Time is working against you. If Zurg or Tradeworld breaks first…"

"Commander, Tradeworld and even Zurg are more or less inconsequential—you know that. Only the Senate matters now, and your Rangers. How will they take it?"

The Commander grinned wryly. "Do it too fast, and they'll destroy you."

"They can try. A pleasure to finally speak with you, Commander—I look forward to meeting you for real. Good day."

The screen reverted black to blank, and Nebula limped over to his viewport, hands clasped at the small of his back. Somewhere down on that little blue-and-green planet was the woman, and somewhere out in space was the answer.

"Ares," he said, wishing he hadn't… "You were stupidso stupid—just like me."


Dolb sighed. "Either he has no information of any worth on here, or else he hid it so well I have no hope of ever finding it in this lifetime."

"Did you look in the folder Secret?" Romac asked.

"Where?"

"On the desktop."

Dolb took another look. "Good…" He turned to Romac. "My dear Grounder, I am an unmitigated idiot!"

"I know." The bounty hunter sighed for good measure. "I know."

"Dear, dear, dear…" Dolb opened the folder. "No code," he muttered. "If he wasn't a Grounder, I wouldn't have believed it."

"Thanks."

"Desioe."

"Grrtum bum," Romac rejoined. He slouched in his seat, tapped the armrest idly.

"Well!" Dolb exclaimed.

Romac jumped. "What?"

Dolb scanned the screen. "His assignment was with Zurg… according to the log he never returned…" He sat back in shock. "Rirmtr."

"Boy, it must be something really shocking to get a Royal to curse."

"Romac," Dolb breathed, "look at the number by the entry, to the right."

"Five—" Romac's eyes went uncharacteristically wide—"is that billion?"

Dolb nodded dazedly. "Zurg must have wanted him and the rest of Ares' team very badly."

"But what did he want them for? Nobody died around that time, nobody important went missing, no clashes with SC, no planet wars, nothing."

"I know, I know," said Dolb. "Let me think…"

Romac tapped the desk thoughtfully. "Is… no… um… hmm…"

"Typical Grounder," said a smug voice from behind, "can't speak a word of English."

The two Tangeans turned sharply, Dolb's pistol already up. "Warp Darkmatter," he said dryly.

"In the flesh." Darkmatter strolled into the room, grinning. "What a sight: one of the best and brightest of Royal Tangea consorting with a lowly Grounder."

"I wouldn't talk if I were you," Romac growled. "You aren't even a Tangean."

"Used to be, but the job didn't suit me," Warp joked. "Gotta move on with life, y'know!"

Dolb holstered his pistol. "Here to talk, gloat, provide information… get shot?"

"Maybe a little of everything," Warp said slyly. "How's your sis?"

Dolb shook his head. "She still throws darts at your wanted poster—she printed one out and drew a scope's reticule on it."

"Oh…" Warp's grin faltered. "She still hates me?"

Dolb nodded. "I never see her take sherry anymore without pronouncing a curse on you."

"Oh…" Now the grin had completely disappeared.

"You left us, Warp," Dolb accused; "left us for the Galactic Alliance—and if that wasn't bad enough, you just had to go and join our worst enemy! Last I saw there was a Tangean bounty on your head—problem is, no one wants to go near you."

A trace of Warp's grin returned. "So you all think I'm that good, huh?"

"No one wants to sully themselves by seeing you," Dolb said flatly. "Fop was so hurt—Isa… well, you should know."

"No, what do…" Realization dawned on Warp's face. "You don't mean…"

Dolb nodded, his face hardening. "Thought you could do whatever you pleased, didn't you? I'll give you a fair shot, Warp." He turned to Romac. "Call it."

"Huh? Wait a minute, guys," the Grounder protested, obviously confused on all levels. "Is this really necessary?"

Dolb nodded. "My sister made me swear I'd bring this traitor back—but only his head. She's usually very literal, so I may just need to buy a sword."

"Weeell," Warp drawled, "at least you won't shoot me in the head, then."

"Perhaps… Romac?"

"Okaaay, if you're sure about this." The younger man reluctantly lifted his handgun, and a shot echoed across the room.

Only… it wasn't his.

Dolb spun and fired dozens of shots in a spread pattern; fire from Warp's plasma cannon followed, and soon, even Romac was shooting. The wall had pulled back, and several hulking shapes were crawling or walking out.

Warp cursed. "Spider Defense Drones."

"Gotta admire a good 'bot!" said Romac.

Warp rocketed away on his jetpack, and Romac and Dolb raced out. The latter felt inclined to swear again, and he never did that twice in the same day. "Never have it when I need it."

"Huh?"

"My jetpack!"

Plasmafire stuttered after them, followed by a rocket.

"Turn here!" Romac shouted. They ducked down a narrow street and kept running until they were back among the crowds of Tradeworlders. "Dolb," the Grounder groaned, "we didn't copy the drive!"

"I know, and I'd hate to have a head-to-head with those things. I hear that their splinter-rockets are particularly effective."

"You mean what they missed us with?"

"Err, yes."

Romac made a face, "Yeah, well, at least they weren't assigned to pursue this far."

"Indeed. Where did Darkmatter go?"

"Dunno," Romac shrugged. "An old friend?"

"Yes. Once, he and my family were very close; he courted my sister—after a fashion."

"Oh…"

"And I won't say a word more, I…" He crumpled to the ground, bursts of pain racing through his head. "Aaargh! Ro—" His head dropped, unconscious.

Romac stared in shock and groaned. "Why did I ever leave Tangea?"


Mira gripped her head, the pain screaming.

Or maybe it was her.

Doctors rushed in, argued over her, debated… and she fell unconscious while they babbled on.


Ivy fell back, moaning. Pain burst in Ghett's head, but he managed to stay upright. "Ivy! What is it?"

"I… I…" She dropped to the deck.

Ghett picked her up and laid her out on the ship's couch. Triss, obviously in pain as well, rushed over and began systematically checking her friend. After a minute, she looked up and reported, "She's fine. It was centered in her—in our—brains."

"I beg your pardon—how is that 'fine'?"

"No damage done," Triss said factually. "Something out there hurt her, however, err, and us. Was anyone tuned in to her?"

Ghett instantly rushed for the cabins and nearly collided with Fixer. The Rhizomian was wobbling, his eyes slightly glassy. "Sarge, Boomer is out! Something—"

Ghett pushed past him into the room to see Boomer lying on the bunk, eyes closed and face contorted. Jereca was leaning weakly against the wall. "Got me, too," she murmured.

"What did?"

"Somebody was hurt—came from…" She collapsed.

Ghett turned her over, heart racing.

"Tradeworld," Jereca muttered, her eyes powered down, and for the moment, she was no longer with him.

Ghett turned to Fixer, worry written on his face. "Team 3."


Team 85 lay on the ground, heads aching. "Damage," Ghett snapped as he rose shakily.

"None," Jereca 85.7 reported. "It wasn't a weapon."

"We were all on the main wave," Ivy said as she struggled to her feet. "What we caught was Ivy 3 being hurt."

"Ridiculous!" Ghett exclaimed. "We can't connect that far unless we're…"

Shirkill sighed. "They turned us on."

Ghett shook his head. "Great. All right, comm back to Planet Z—quickly."

"I get the feeling they all ready know…"


Sinclair slammed the door open. "ZURG!" he roared. "Why the **** are all my Ivies down?"

Zurg turned from his vidphone screen. "Precisely what I want to know! I was told this wouldn't happen after we switched to combat mode."

"You switched? Whose bloody idea was that? They werenae prepared for that yet, **** it, Zurg!"

"Shut up, Sinclair!" Zurg snapped angrily. "You aren't the boss here! Get back to your clones!"

"But there are two other teams on the field beside 3! What if—"

"Calm yourself, Sinclair—85 reported in, and 10 is in their ship right now. In fact—" The vidphone buzzed. "That's them now. Excuse me, Sergeant."

"You havenae heard the last of me yet, Zurg!"

"Of course not, Sinclair." Zurg tapped his fingers together expectantly.

"Evil Emperor Zurg, sorry," the Scotsman said sarcastically as he left. I shoulda known that Zurg would do something stupid, so now what? The door to the throne room shut noiselessly.

Flight Commander Sor-vel ran past Sinclair and skidded to a stop in front of the door. "Shinclaire," he spat out, "I losht a hol bloody teamm!"

"What?"

"Youd hard ve: a hol bloody team—de crashed indu da shkycraypers!"

"Dead or alive?"

"Avive!" he said indignantly. "Da Ships deshigned bet-er dan dat? But dey bery buch hurt and my jusht die!"

"Okay, okay." He shook his head. "Zurg knows it's happening—he turned their mindjack control to combat mode."

"Wishout conshulting ush?"

"That's about the shape of it," Sinclair sighed. "Get back to your pilots—I'll wait for Zurg an' try to talk some sense into him."

The alien flight instructor threw up his arms in exasperation and hurried back the way he had come. Sinclair leaned against the wall, determined to wait. Just what was Zurg thinking anyway? Moving the clones up a notch without consulting their trainers. Who knew what could have happened? "Experimental technologies," he muttered.

"Oh, Sinclaaair…" came Zurg's voice. Sinclair marched back into the throne room, fully prepared to lay into Zurg.

"Sinclair, good—I though that you might still be around… I need your opinion on whether or not Team 10 is capable of destroying the garrison of a Star Command prison installation on a remote moon." Zurg appeared distracted, not really paying much attention to anything.

"Well—" Sinclair thought a moment—"how much of a garrison?"

"Robots mostly, and a few organics—let's say twenty."

"Fine. Is that how many there are, though?"

"You should know," Zurg sniffed.

"Never been to prison."

Zurg arched an eyebrow. "You just shocked me."

Sinclair decided to let that go. "I'd bet my money on Ivy poisoning the organics, an' they could probably handle some… hundred guard drones? Type-273?"

"Probably."

"Hmm, well, take them off the battle jack, an' I'd say yes."

"Very well, Sergeant, I guess that's what will have to happen. We have something of an emergency."

"Ah… what?"

"Never you mind," Zurg said absently. "Go."

"Aye, Evil Emperor."

"Sinclair."

"Sir?"

"What would you do if you needed to get revenge, but someone wanted to take out the man you needed to bring down in a way so opposite of your needs and desires that it would mess your life up for eternity? And maybe even longer!" he added as an afterthought.

"I'd kill him, probably, an' then go back to settling wit' the other man, depending on the situation, of course." Zurg said nothing, and Sinclair knew he was dismissed. All right, who's fooling with the Emperor's fun?


Nebula tried to keep from fidgeting while King Nova and Madame President exchanged polite conversation—he hated this political cordiality. He idly wondered if Taurios had inserted a camera into the room.

"Well," King Nova said amiably, "I am grateful that you both could meet with me on such short notice, and I do hate to disturb you, but something of a most serious nature occurred today."

"Of course, King Nova, happy to have you here." Madame President sounded somewhat sincere, but Nebula thought he detected a trace of nervousness. She wasn't the smartest politician, but she still knew a thing or two—enough to see that Nova was after something.

Of course, any politician—be he monarch or otherwise—who acted polite was after something.

"Yes, well, thank you, but now to business." Nova frowned. "You see, I was on Tradeworld with my daughter, and we were near the protestors when the riot began. Doubtless you've heard that many— including Tradeworld Police—have testified to the fact that Buzz Lightyear was, in fact, at the riot and killing protestors—even murdering them!

"Not only this…" the King trailed off and affected emotion, but then perhaps it was genuine, who could tell? "But," he continued, "when my daughter called out to him, requesting that he cease from his activities, he shot Mira in the arm and a lieutenant of mine in the stomach with his Star Command-issue laser, killing the man."

Madame President stared in shock. "Impossible," she said flatly. "It is inconceivable that Lightyear could ever do any such thing—he would never shoot at civilians, much less a member of his own team. It is just too absurd too believe!" She turned to Commander Nebula, who nodded in agreement.

"I wish it were so, Madame President," the King sighed insincerely. "Perhaps he is having mental problems? However, there is video footage—I brought some myself, having secured it from several news networks that are airing it even as we speak."

"That won't be necessary," said Nebula.

The President turned to him now in shock. "What do you mean, Commander?"

"I'm sure it would be a waste of time—I'm also sure that they did see someone like Buzz Lightyear. This isn't the first time something weird like this has happened. There were the Gargantians, and both of you know about the shape stealer Zurg sicced on us."

"Vaguely," said Nova. "I hope that you are correct in your trust, Commander. However, we cannot discount the possibility that Ranger Lightyear has completely snapped. You both know that he is no enemy of mine. He saved my planet and my daughter."

"Yet your willing to let him hang," Madame President continued in her flat tone. "I wonder why? Let's get to the point, King Nova—as you know I am not one for beating around the bush—so let me ask this plainly once and for all. What do you want?"

King Nova sighed. "Very well, I shall be blunt. I have a lawsuit ready to file against Star Command. If I join the Tradeworlders, Star Command and the Alliance will lose, and there is no telling what could happen afterwards…"

"All right," the President said calmly. She sat back, a slight smile playing across both mouths, obviously pleased that it was officially on the table. "You will bring us down and create anarchy. What will that do for you?"

"Tangea can function alone," Nova said confidently. "And anyway, we won't be alone for long."

"Noted. And I suspect you will drop the suit in exchange for…"

King Nova leaned forward. "A seat on the Galactic Alliance Security Council, Fop Doppler given a post in Star Command worthy of a Tangean Royal, and a special trade tax exemption for Tangea."

He appeared to be just warming up. "You will give us control of three of your government mining corporations around our quadrants, and you will give Tangea a voice in all the primary Alliance Agencies with a Tangean in at least one significant post per agency… and Star Command will pay the Tangean Royal family three-billion unibucks as a token of reconciliation."

"And in exchange for giving you a majority in the government, you won't sue us," said Commander Nebula. "Isn't that nice."

The President appeared to mull it over. "All right, King Nova, you've made your claims—it sounds like a lot, politically, but I feel that you have your sights set on something bigger. What is it? I don't see you as the type to settle for such 'small' victories. You want something big."

King Nova nodded. "Wise as ever, Madame." He turned to look the Commander in the eye. "You seem sure that Lightyear didn't attack us—so does Mira. I want to know who it was that attacked us, and I want access to all of the Star Command secret files."

Commander Nebula leapt to his feet. "No way, Nova. One, Mira was mistaken about me being able to solve your mystery; two, I ain't lettin' you nowhere near my station's computers!"

Madame President turned to Nebula. "Calm down, Commander… Did Mira think that you knew who was behind the Lightyear incident? Or was she just guessing?"

"She was sure," King Nova piped in.

"She was wrong," Nebula rejoined. He couldn't let it get out now—they'd kept the portal hidden for so long, it couldn't get out before they were ready… "And as for you, Madame President, you can't give him government secrets!"

"I am afraid that I don't understand," King Nova said, clearly puzzled. "I was assuming that a position on the Security Council gave you access to—"

"You're wrong," Madame President cut off, shooting Nebula an angry look. "Star Command is not a technical part of the old Interplanetary Protection Force or the reserves. They replaced the former and the only the latter falls under the GASC."

"We're police," Nebula said, carefully emphasizing the word.

King Nova looked flabbergasted. "But, but, but… to whom do you answer, then?"

"Technically: me," the President said calmly.

"What?" King Nova sat back in his seat. "But… doesn't that make them…"

"What? Like the old style secret police?" Nebula laughed. "Not a chance—we answer to the President and sort-of the Senate, and I call the shots on a smaller scale. Y'see, Nova, even if you get your crony in the Security Council, you will have no more control over us than you already do!"

King Nova was too busy thinking to take offense. "How many people know this?"

"Anyone who bothers to wade through five thousand pages of police regulation," the President replied, clearly enjoying seeing the King baffled.

He raised a hand. "Very well… my offer still stands. I seek no control over Star Command or the Alliance—merely the advancement and safety of my people."

"All right," said the President. "You can have your GASC post; I'll leave Ranger Doppler to Commander Nebula; you can have the tax exemption and a seat in thirty-three percent of the government agencies—and we'll discuss which ones—plus we'll see that Tangea gets discounts on raw materials from the government mining corporations. Deal?"

"And the money," Nebula interjected, no longer caring about the blackmail aspects and simply wanting to close the deal.

King Nova considered it a minute, or appeared to. "I need to see some Star Command files," he said at last.

"Which ones?" Nebula asked in a hard voice.

The King didn't even need to think. "Everything relating to Zurg, bounty hunters, and your time-space experiments."

Nebula's mind raced. He must know something

"Deal," the President said quickly.

Nebula turned to her. "Excuse me, Ma—"

"No, Commander, I'm sorry." She turned to King Nova. "Come, Your Majesty—I'll draw up a paper, and we'll sign. I want this on paper. Meanwhile," she said to Nebula, "why don't you get to Star Command and prepare the information that King Nova is looking for—get everything ready?"

Nebula understood and nodded. He left without a word and strode down the hallways of the Senate as quickly as he could manage. Someone brushed against him, and he felt a paper touch his hand. He didn't bother to turn and look—just opened the paper.

Nova can't see anything; we don't know what he is looking for. He acted too nice and complaint—don't trust him. You and I will get together soon to have a face-to-face chat. Don't worry, our contacts tell us that we'll get help from an unexpected place. If necessary, you can let Lightyear go to trial—he'll be fine, or else we'll see that he doesn't get the death sentence.

Taurios

Nebula crumpled up the paper and stashed it in his suit compartment. He felt better now—it was always good to have friends in high places—but he also didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. He wasn't getting any younger, and things weren't getting any better. Maybe it was time to retire… no, he would see this through to the end. He had to, even if it meant death…


Taurios turned to his new aide and slicked back his silver hair. "The pod is sure?"

"Yes," she assured him, "he overheard everything."

"We'll see what help we can give this team Zurg is sending to prison 2.75459. It is funny, isn't it…"

"Sir?"

"King Nova will be humiliated, Nebula and Lightyear will be safe, the President will continue on in her ignorant little supposed sphere of power, the Tradeworld crisis will be crushed, and we don't have to lift a finger, really."

"Makes you wonder if there is such a thing as God or fate," she smiled.

"Yes… If there is, though, they deserted poor Ares. I wonder how he died."

"I expect Zurg killed him quickly."

"One can only hope," he sighed, turning to some papers needing his attention. "Poor Nebula—he still feels for the man."

"I thought that he hated Ares. I mean, the man was a murderer and the antithesis of the law and order Nebula stands for."

"Oh, don't get me wrong—he hated Ares while he lived as Ares. But he wishes that they could have been reconciled." Taurios sighed again. "I almost wish it, too. Ares was an arrogant pig, but he was a good fighter and our best agent, until he found out about our past… But after he found some information on Nebula… he wouldn't stay with us. So he left to seek his fortunes elsewhere."

"Why didn't he like Nebula? I thought everybody liked the old man," she laughed.

"Don't concern yourself," Taurios said softly. "It was a private reason; he wanted to hurt Nebula—and myself—so badly… I expect that's why he went along with whatever Zurg had in mind." He shrugged. "I guess we'll never know now."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Sir."

"Hmm?"

"Zurg worries me—we can only use him so long, and all he needs to do is discover the brainpod and our influence in that sector is gone."

"Your suggestion?"

"Kill him now, while we still can."

Taurios shook his head. "I expect Ares tried that a few years ago—it obviously didn't work. If he hated Nebula and me, then he hated Zurg just as much—albeit for drastically different reasons. No, Zurg is still useful to us."

"Why?"

Taurios was getting a little irritated now. "What concern is that of yours, Miss K-k,-k…"

"Don't try, sir," she smiled. "And it's my business because I'll die too."

"Point taken. He is distracting the Galactic Alliance and Star Command—he goes, and they'll turn to other things."

"Like us."

"Yes. He is a focal point for the galaxy's problems right now—they look at him and say 'evil'."

"So we need him."

"Didn't I say that?"

"Until he discovers us," she continued.

Taurios nodded. "If he gets the first shot, we fall and our world with us, but Star Command still has a shot at him. Besides, he may not care about us—we operate in somewhat different spheres. He is against the GA, and I am…"

"You are."

"Precisely."

The woman held her head. "Oh, why didn't I stay in law?"

Taurios raised an eyebrow. "All right, all right, get back to your work now. I have a feeling we have a busy month ahead of us."

"Yes, sir."


It was frustrated—again. It was sick of dealing with these pathetic life forms. It had felt the pain of the little blue-skinned warrior.

But It had made progress. It nearly had their primary language mastered—soon It would try to communicate again.

The human called "Commander" was in trouble—It knew that, It knew that things where getting worse, and quickly. It almost wished that It could walk among the creatures and aid them; It could do little here.

Its link to Xrghthung grew fuzzier and fuzzier as the mind there distanced itself from It and turned to the others on the world called "Capital."

The room around It was silent—no worship at this time of time. It was so sick of that, but It couldn't explain Itself just yet…

It had been a long time since It had begun Its duty—It now almost wished that It hadn't. Better for the little creatures to have died than become slaves to It when It didn't want slaves—It wanted people… not a living form of that walking metal that many creatures called "robots."

It idly reviewed the language, trying to puzzle it out, waiting… Far away, It knew that everything was coming to the fulfillment of what had begun nigh a thousand years ago. It was ready. It knew that they though that they were ready, and they weren't…

It knew that none of those involved had any idea what they where about to do. Revenge, greed, misguided heroism, true but misguided desires for freedom, a hope in the future of a world… all these ideas and more were merging. They didn't know it, but they were all so close together, so interwoven… and in the center of this swirling storm of love, desires, hopes, and hatred, stood a small few that were innocent: a man, a woman, and a thousand little copies…

It suddenly had a thought—just a chance—but It knew where It could find help. Yet to make contact, It would have to distance itself for many beats of time—days, as the creatures called it. But yes, It had an idea, and It wouldn't fail—too much depended on It for that.

It prepared, first reserving a small part of Itself to keep watch, and perhaps to go to Zurg-the-Desecrator…

It turned toward Xrghthung, and another world far, far away…


Terms:

RPCR—Repeating Plasma Combat Rifle, standard Tangean Special Operation Brigade light combat weapon (a more powerful equivalent of the modern USA M4)

LEO—Law Enforcement Officer


Author's Note:

All right, thanks for bearing through this far—it wasn't too bad, was it? Please, feel free to review; calmly and cordially should you not like my story. I don't mind (per se) negative reviews—only if they are rude. And again, I sincerely hope that the Nebula scene wasn't too similar to BotE…

I also would like to extend my thanks to all those who have favorited my story.

Keep reading!

Sincerely yours, Mandalore Thrawn