Leia Organa Solo was worried. She didn't know why she was worried, except that it was because Karrde was worried. Han had wandered in just after Karrde's transmission and she briefed him on the conversation.

"The thing of it Han, is that a worried Karrde is something that worries me," Leia concluded.

Her husband had simply shrugged and responded, "Well, whatever it is'll just have to keep till we get there."

"What do you mean 'we' Han?" Leia demanded.

"Well," Han replied, "if you're doing the worrying, that should be good enough for both of us, shouldn't it? No sense in me being worried, too. I'll just check out the Falcon and we can be on our way to meet Karrde." And he had flashed her one of his lop-sided grins.

Leia's retort and all the anger in her melted away. After all the years, he still had that effect on her. Leia quickly realized that a few others needed to be at that meeting, too. "I'll be 15 minutes," she told Han. "I need to make a few arrangements before we leave. We're supposed to pick up Karrde at his landing pad in about 45 minutes, and then head to Rogue HQ. Luke and Mara are there and we need to meet with them on this matter. Can I leave those arrangements with you? Will we make it in time?"

Han assured that he would and they would, too.

Evion departed to ready the back door distraction. Kara and Den were poised to exit just after that. Borsk lead Moranda to a lower level storage room.

In the back, behind a hinged shelving unit filled with Corellian whiskey and Alderaanian brandy (some of it the genuine article, Moranda noticed) was a small door that responded to Borsk's palm on its touchplate. Beyond the open door lay a low narrow passageway, cobwebs and dust nerfs attesting to the lack of travelers along this route.

The passageway reminded Moranda of the sensational novels she'd read in her youth, the ones she'd found hidden in her Grandmother's attic. They all had one thing in common: A dusty corridor in a crumbling Corellian Mansion. The heroine fleeing thru draped cobwebs, villain at her heels, dashing hero in the lead. Well, SHE was closer to the flaxen-haired maidens of the stories than Borsk was to the muscular, darkly handsome Jedi Knights. But the dusty passage way was the same. And the villains just as treacherous.

At the end of the long meandering hallway was a door with a simple mechanical lock. Borsk found the key in a pocket of Evion's coverall. The door opened in the back of a large storage room. Moranda headed toward the front of the room where she could see a door next to a sign reminding employees of the penalties for stealing. Borsk stopped her with a tiny shake of his head. Before she could speak (which she wasn't going to do anyway) he made a universal "keep quiet" gesture and pointed to the left side of the room. Behind a shelving unit, Moranda saw a camouflaged door much like the hidden door in Evion's wine cellar. A quick look to the right confirmed Moranda's suspicion that there was also such a door on the right side of the room.

Quickly and quietly they slipped into another passage way. This one, just as dusty as first, quickly narrowed to little more than a tunnel. Water dripped from the ceiling in several places and small creatures scurried just out of the range of Borsk's small glowrod. When the tunnel finally widened and opened into a small alcove, Borsk was covered with grime and cobwebs. Moranda was nearly as bad, but fortunately she had no fur for cobwebs to stick to. Borsk wiped off most of the webbing, but left the majority of the grime. At the far end of the alcove there was a large barrel. Borsk pushed it aside to reveal a small hole in the brick wall, through which distant sunlight could be seen. Moranda followed Borsk thru the hole and found herself at the end of a very long, trash-filled alley.

"Quickly." said Borsk as he headed to the end of the alley. "This is not a good place to linger." Sunlight flooded the end of the alley as they emerged several minutes later.

As Mara absorbed Luke's revelation that the Bothans were after Centerpoint, her first thought was that Luke had come to the wrong conclusion.

"Bothans, Luke? What do Bothans have to do with this? Are you sure?" Mara questioned her husband-to-be. "Do you have some information that the rest of us don't?"

"I don't Mara. But it just … came to me."

"Jedi hunch?"

"No, it goes deeper than that. I can't explain it, but it is right."

Mara's reaction to Luke's statement was again one of disbelief. But the more she thought about it, the more she knew that he was right. Somehow, the dissonance that he had referred to earlier had disappeared. And what was most peculiar was that now she could recall the entire conversation. It was almost as if a sort of mental block had been removed. Slowly she became aware that Luke was talking to someone.

"… and we'll be there in about an hour. Han and I need to pick up Karrde and two others that I think ought to be there too."

"OK, Leia, but please be careful. There are forces at work here that we know little about. Uhh, one moment."

Luke turned to Wedge.

"Wedge, can someone arrange a secure landing slot for the Falcon?"

"Sure, Luke, give me a moment. Leia, hang on, I'll be right back."

Wedge changed channels and quickly gave the appropriate orders. Switching channels, he addressed Leia.

"Leia, tell Han that you've been cleared for landing slot A7JK9. I'll have an escort ready to bring you and your party to my office. By the way, is Chewie with you? It may be better if he stayed with the Falcon in case you've been compromised."

"Are you sure that's necessary, Wedge? I doubt that anyone could have known that Karrde was going to contact me."

"Maybe so, Leia, but given what, or should I say, who, Luke just revealed is at the root of this matter, I'd feel more comfortable knowing that someone is looking after the Falcon. Besides, Han would skin me alive if anything happened to that ship of his."

"You got that right, old buddy," Han interjected. "Seriously, Leia, Wedge is right. Chewie'll stay with the Falcon. I don't think anyone'll want to willingly tangle with an angry Wookiee." Turning to Wedge, he continued. "We'll see you soon, Wedge. Han out."

The alley ended in a roughly square utility area, bigger than a traditional Alderaanian mews, but smaller than a Corellian piazza. Several similar looking alleys opened into the area. Along two sides, directly across from where Moranda and Fey'lya stood and to their right, were the back entrances of run down businesses. The other two sides featured high brick walls and large overflowing refuse bins. Assorted shady characters loitered near an establishment that was a tavern of some sort to judge from the garish sign over the entrance. Next to it was what was probably an eatery. A wind shift brought the aroma of roasting meat to Moranda. She wished she'd had time for breakfast before she'd left Grai'yka's this morning. There were standard NRI ration bars in her carryall, "rat bars" they were called, and with good reason. She wished she had some of Karrde's field rations, but she hadn't taken any on this mission. She inhaled deeply, wondering how long a body could function on lum and vapors. Borsk must have noticed.

"I'm a bit hungry too, but this isn't the place to stop. We can grab a quick snack at the sweets bar as we pick up the bike. In fact, stopping for a bite will be good cover. But a meal is out of the question until we get to Mimaw's. She'll feed us well."

He was eyeing the loungers outside the tavern, warily. "We need to hurry without drawing attention to ourselves. As you may have noticed this is not the best neighborhood anymore. When Evion and I set up this route years ago, this was a nice middle-class neighborhood that either of us could slip through unobtrusively. But now … well, let's just hurry. We used to just go in the back door and out the front of any of these places, but the only one where we won't look like Calamari at a Devaronian's wedding is the Temple of the All Seeing Presence at the far end of the plaza. The monks stick to their contemplations and turn a blind eye to the goings-on of the locals. Consequently, all factions consider the building neutral ground. Besides, it really is a sacred sanctuary. No one will bother us once we get there."

Borsk paused and Moranda noticed his fur had risen as if in … frustration? Anger? He continued his explanation.

"However, getting there will be fun. The 'gentlemen' by the tavern's door are from the 'Sith Avengers' gang. They're probably waiting for the 'Vader's Quest' boys to leave the cook shack. But they wouldn't be averse to shaking down a couple civilians who cross their territory." He heaved a great sigh. "At the risk of sounding like Jarif Rayl'arr, these sorts of hoodlums did not exist during Palpatine's tenure. Malcontents either became Stormtroopers, political prisoners, or dedicated resistance workers. This lot looks like Stormtrooper material." He sighed again. "We could wait for them to leave, but that could take hours and we run the risk of being caught in the crossfire if the rivals show up. No choice but to head for the Temple."

Moranda checked the distance to the back door of the church, "Well, as the old saying goes, 'If ya ken't sneak, act like ya owns the place.' Do we go side by side, or is this the sort of place where the females always follow?"

"Actually, here you could be in the lead, as long as you don't mind the locals thinking they know what sort of a woman would lead a male somewhere."

"Umm, an adequate cover, just don't get any ideas." Moranda stood, brushed a trailing cobweb off the Bothan's shoulder and strode boldly into the sunlight. She continued talking. "Unlike far too many human females, I'm not impressed with wealth, power, and the exoticness of non-human males."

"Ah, not like my esteemed colleague from Kuat? That woman will be the death of me yet. Would you believe that she … what is the phrase? 'Put the moves on' Garvisom when he first took on the presidency? Old Puffers had no idea what she was up to. I don't think Calibops understand seduction of any type. After she failed with him, I swear she looked over the Senate dinning room protocol list and went from top to bottom looking for a new conquest."

"And did she 'come on' to you, Senator?" Moranda asked in the same light airy tone that Borsk was using, but she suddenly sensed a shift in his mood. "I'm sorry, Borsk, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, Moranda, you're not prying. She did seem attracted to me, not my type at all, she's human after all." He smiled a brief, roguish smile at Moranda before he turned serious again. "How she reminds me of Jeim Crou'yka. What is it about some bright attractive females and the way they are drawn to power? Is it that they can't be content unless they have captured the attention of every male? Is it a game played against other females to see who can have the biggest stable of admirers?"

"Sometimes, yes, it is those things, but often a woman is attracted to power because she feels powerless herself, and only by attaching herself to power can she have any for herself."

"That could be the case with Senator You-Know-Who, but not Eri's mother. Jeim was beautiful, brilliant, we … er, all the young males worshiped the very ground she trod. We would have done anything for her. She didn't need to play her power games with us. And she certainly didn't need to throw herself away on that fool Leryn Grai'Syk. What a … aah … we're at the Temple door, we must be silent while within the temple walls … it IS a sacred place."

Sithspit, and this was just getting interesting. Moranda had the feeling that the Senator would not be continuing with his reminiscences when they could talk again.

The darkness of the temple was quite a contrast to the bright sun outside, but Borsk apparently knew his way around. Moranda knew that Bothan eyes adjusted faster than her human eyes and worked better in low light, so she followed his lead through a maze of what seemed to be curving hallways and closed doors. After a few minutes, she became aware that it really was DARK in the temple. There wasn't enough light for even a Bothan to see by. She suddenly realized that Borsk was following a remembered pathway. She was sure of that when she heard him counting paces, in Bothan, under his breath.

< … non si vifnon, non si hahnnom, non si binnon, … > Nine hundred ninety-six? He's been counting paces since we entered the place!

< ... non si jinnon, non si wifnon, non de nonnon … > Fey'lya stood still, then took one step to the left, < ehn hihm! > One thousand. Are we there?

Borsk turned to her and whispered, "Close your eyes, Moranda, it will be very bright in here."

He pushed a door open and even though Moranda had closed her eyes against the sudden light, when she opened them, she could make out nothing but brightness for several seconds. Then she saw a gloriously lit altar attended by numerous monks in yellow robes.

Borsk quickly walked to the altar, took a handful of coins from the coverall's side pocket, and placed them on the altar. He returned to Moranda's side and then led her to a set of large doors, made of highly polished wood. Borsk dropped another handful of coins in an urn next to the doors. Two monks were polishing the doors, one opened the doors and bowed to them as Moranda and Borsk exited the temple.

"Quite a place," Moranda said as a conversation opener.

"Yes."

Moranda waited for him to say more, but he stayed silent as he looked up and down the street in front of the Temple. Moranda had scanned for trouble as they exited the church and saw nothing that looked out of place, but Borsk seemed concerned. Moranda looked again and still saw nothing, the street was deserted … Is that it? The fact that there is no one here and there should be?

Borsk spoke. "It's too quiet, I don't like it. Keep your blaster handy, but set it on stun please, I don't want any civilian casualties. The sweets shop is midway down this street, on the opposite side. I hope Seni parked the bike out of sight from the shops next to the Temple."

They had been walking at a medium pace but now Borsk stepped up the speed to a fast walk. Moranda saw the sweets shop, her hunger sharpened at the sight of the Bothan delicacies shown on the sign.

"Will we have time to nab a bite to eat?"

"If the bike is parked in the back, yes. If it is in front, we should just grab the bike and go."

Several speeder bikes of various vintages were parked in front of the shop, and Moranda fervently hoped none were Evion's. Evidently luck was with her, as Borsk looked over the bikes and then walked into the shop. The sweet smell was almost overwhelming.

"A pastry and a hot beverage with a stimulant?" Borsk ask as they made their way carefully past a group of little Bothans all clutching sticky sweets.

"Yes, that will do nicely." She reached into her carryall for money, but Borsk stopped her.

"My treat," he said. She gave him a look.

"No," he said, "I'm not being nice, your credit chips are traceable and you'll need whatever local currency you have later."

She would have asked him why she'd be needing all her local money, but he handed her the most wondrous smelling pastry, she decided to eat rather than speak. She'd ask later. The hot beverage wasn't quite caf, but neither was it that sweet drink that Luke Skywalker had introduced to many of Karrde's operatives. It was somewhere in between, and hot, sweet and good.

Borsk led the way to the back exit. Only 3 speeder bikes were in the back. A large luxurious (for a speeder bike) model, a small sleek racing bike and an old tired looking bike in need of bodywork. She knew without asking which one they would be riding.

They were walking to the bike when the high-pitched shriek of an outraged Bothan child came from the shop. The child was screaming in the same dialect that Evion used, and Moranda understood enough to know that someone had bumped into the child and made him drop his treat. She looked back into the shop and saw a large Bothan female confronting a young Bothan male, demanding that he buy the child another treat. The female said something about the rudeness of today's youth and where was he going in such a Sith-induced rush that he couldn't see a child in his way. More words were exchanged but Moranda didn't hear them, Borsk had fired up the bike. The engine gave out a throaty roar, much deeper and more powerful than Moranda expected. Thoughts of the Millennium Falcon sprang to mind. She hoped Evion's bike, like Han Solo's pride and joy was much modified. As they pulled out of the parking area, she glanced again at the shop's back door and saw the youth stuff a handful of paper money into the woman's hands with a snarl. Suddenly she realized that she'd seen the youth before. He'd been one of the loiterers behind the tavern.

"Borsk, I think we've been spotted." Over the noise of the bike she told him of the scene she'd witnessed.

"Thought so," he replied. "Keep an eye out for anyone following us. I'll be taking a circuitous route out of town."

As they sped along, on busy streets and quiet ones, through business districts and residential neighborhoods, Moranda kept a sharp lookout for a tail. She didn't spot any, but that didn't mean there weren't any.

She turned part of her mind to the letter she would be writing to Bel Iblis.

"… So you see, this has all been part of a plot to break the treaty between the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant. I am not certain what the plotters hoped to gain other than to plunge the Galaxy back into war, but I intend to find out." Admiral Gilad Pellaeon paused and when he spoke again, it was as if to himself. "And if they hoped to resurrect Palpatine's 'New Order,' they are sadly mistaken." Again Pellaeon paused, and then turned to face Hivinsvok. "I realize that this may be difficult for you to absorb in such a short time, but I assure you, it is the truth."

"Oh, I believe you, Admiral. This is so fantastic that it can only be the truth. There's no other explanation that can fit all the facts." Hivinsvok smiled ruefully. "The amazing thing is, even though you've shown me that what I believed to be my life is nothing more than some elaborate trick of flash-learning and imprinting, I cannot overcome my embedded loyalty to the Empire. And so I want to reaffirm my pledge to serve and protect the Empire. No matter it's form."

Pellaeon carefully regarded the pilot.

"It would seem that those who ahh, created you, Hivinsvok, did too good a job. Not only do you have the looks and flying skills of Baron Fel, you also have his sense of loyalty and obligation. And that, Lieutenant, will be their undoing. Mark my words, they will be dealt with … and with all the might of the Empire. We may not be the Empire of Palpatine's or even Thrawn's days, but we are still a Force to be reckoned with. Now, if you would, we still have some issues to address."

Flicking the comm, Pellaeon spoke quietly.

"Captain Ardiff, would you and Colonel Vermel please join me on the secondary bridge. Pellaeon out."

Pellaeon turned from his study of the panorama of hyperspace as his two officers entered the bridge. Hivinsvok, who had been seated at the conference table, rose as Ardiff and Vermel both looked at him and then the Admiral with their unspoken question clearly understood.

"Be seated, gentlemen. I am satisfied that our mysterious TIE pilot here is telling the truth. At least, the truth as he believes it to be."

"Are you sure, Admiral?" replied Vermel. "You will have to agree that it strains incredulity for a TIE Interceptor squadron to be hidden near Corellia, with their leader expecting to hear from Grand Admiral Thrawn."

"I agree, Colonel, but, let me fill in the details; I will ask both you and Captain Ardiff to put aside your skepticism until I am finished."

Ardiff glanced at Vermel; a knowing look passed between them.

"According to Hivinsvok, there are twelve pilots in his squad. I will spare you the particulars, but they all believe they graduated from the academy on Carida sometime in the past year. They were instructed to hide among the locals. A few days ago, they received a message ordering them to rendezvous with the Chimaera and aid in a scheme to retake Coruscant from the, ahh, Rebels. At least, that's what they have been led to believe they would be doing. It seems that whoever placed this plot into motion counted on the pilots' Imperial conditioning to overcome any doubts they might have had. What those plotters didn't count on was the real Chimaera showing up to spoil their plans. Am I correct so far, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir," Hivinsvok acknowledged.

"Furthermore, Hivinsvok's squadron is the clones we have been searching for. I can't say how I know. I just know that they are." The Admiral noticed Vermel's reaction. "And no, it is not because of security reasons that I can't say." Pellaeon favored the Colonel with the ghost of a smile. "I really don't know. I just know."

"That's all well and good, Admiral," Ardiff interjected, "and I assume you intend to take advantage of the fact that we've intercepted Hivinsvok and his comrades. But we still face our original obstacle of not being attacked by New Republic and Corellian forces when we come out of hyperspace."

Pellaeon faced his second, and this time there was no mistaking the smile on his face.

"We won't have to worry about that happening. In fact, the New Republic forces will probably be asking for our help. And for that, I have to thank Karrde."

"Karrde!" Pellaeon's officers exclaimed in unison. "How can that … smuggler … be of help?"

Again the Admiral's smile was there for all to see.

"It's quite simple. You know that Karrde's information, ahh, brokers have been sharing data between ourselves and the New Republic. Although I was somewhat reluctant at first, Karrde's group has been scrupulously fair and open. So I intend to contact Karrde and let him know what's going on. He can pass the information to the appropriate members of the NR hierarchy. Given our proximity to Corellia and the limited time before the plot is supposed to unfold, I am quite certain that we will be invited to help root out the conspirators."

"Begging your pardon, Admiral," Vermel said, "but how will you get a message to Karrde? We're in hyperspace and we would need to revert to realspace in order to contact him. And once we do that, we will certainly trigger the local proximity alarms."

"Correct, Colonel, but I do not intend to take the Chimaera out of hyperspace until it is safe to do so. On the other hand, Hivinsvok's Interceptor is hyperspace-capable … obviously … and I am certain that such a small craft could slip into normal space, send off the message and return to the Chimaera, without being detected."

For a moment, no one spoke. As before, Vermel and Ardiff exchanged a look, and then the former nodded.

"Very well, Admiral," Vermel responded as he turned to Hivinsvok. "I guess I'll need to borrow your TIE. Any objections?" The pilot shook his head. "Good. I'll be ready to leave in 30 minutes."

Pellaeon acknowledged his officer. "I'll have the transmission ready in 20."

Let's see, I never DID tell him my full name back there on Darknell, so unless Garm compared notes with Hal Horn at some later date, 'Moranda Savitch' will mean nothing to him. Did I even give him my first name? Sith, it's been SO long. And using my given name will set off alarm bells with security types all along the info pipeline. Besides, I don't want my name all over the holonet even if it is over secured diplomatic channels. I need a good alias. An alias that Bel Iblis will recognize, but at the same time, one that won't tip off any prying eyes.

Moranda's thoughts were interrupted as a particularly sharp curve commanded her entire attention. As Borsk leaned into the curve, she could briefly see his face, and the grin he wore matched the upright fur she'd been gazing past for what seemed an eternity. He was certainly enjoying himself. He's like a kid with a new toy. No, that's not quite it, a kid with an old familiar toy. He seemed so at home on the speeder bike that she wondered if he'd spent his college days racing more than studying. She'd run across more than a few Corellians with that same grin. Han Solo, Wedge Antilles ... even Corran Horn, much to his mother's dismay, if the gossip Allyse could be believed … Allyse Conroy! That name will work. I used her with Horn at Darknell; Garm should remember the name. Yes, that will work.

Once she'd resolved what name to use, the rest was easy. Moranda mentally composed the letter as they sped through the Bothan countryside. When they arrived at an isolated farmhouse, Borsk stopped the bike and directed Moranda to wait in a run-down gazebo at the side of the house. Moranda pulled keyboard and datapad from her carryall and had the letter nearly finished by the time Borsk had the speeder bike stashed in a dilapidated outbuilding behind the main house.

An elderly Bothan female approached her just as Moranda put the finishing touches on the letter.

< Master Borsk says to take ye to the outpost right now. >

She spoke in the same country Bothan dialect as Evion, but not as thickly accented. Almost the same as the way Moranda spoke it, as a learned language, not as a native tongue. < I think ye should be fed first, but he's the boss here. So impatient these young people. I did bring ye some little treats to tide ye over afore supper. > She handed Moranda a large packet of food.

Supper? Moranda thought as she followed the woman. Is it that late? Then she remembered that country folk often called the midday meal "supper." A quick check of her wristchrono showed that only a half hour had passed since they left Evion's cantina. Must have been the speed and the rock hard seat that made the ride seem so long. More incredibly, she realized that it had only been five standard hours since she'd snuck away from Grai'yka's in the pre-dawn light. How time flies when you're having fun … or scared sithless.

They arrived at a ramshackle building that made the old farmhouse look like a mansion. Entering through a rickety wooden door, Moranda saw that the building was full of antiquated farming equipment. The elderly Bothan led Moranda to the back of the building where she shoved aside a large crate to reveal a trap door in the floor.

< I don't think me old legs will go down that there ladder, > the oldster said.

Moranda hurried down the ladder and the right hand hallway. She found Borsk Fey'lya waiting outside a sturdy metal door.

"How long will it take you to write a letter to your boss?" he asked.

"Already done." She handed him a data card.

"Good. Wait here."

He took the data card and slipped through the door. Moranda caught just a glimpse of high tech instruments and heard the distinctive whine of a high-speed holonet port. Borsk was back in a matter of minutes.

"There, that's done. Bel Iblis should have the letter in his hands inside the hour. Diplomatic fast-courier messaging is SO much fun to use," he said with a bit of a smirk in his fur. "It will probably take longer for some staffer to inform the General that he has a letter than it will take the message to slide through hyperspace. Is that fried sawui cakes I smell?" he said, taking the bag. He began munching on the goodies as he led the way back to the farmhouse. "Hope Mimaw's got a big meal cooking. I'm starved. Haven't had a thing to eat since breakfast, except for that stop at the sweet shop."