Chapter Thirteen

Wedge shook his head and sighed in resignation. "Would you care to explain just what happened last night?"

As Darvix opened his mouth to speak, Corran cut him off.

"It's my fault," the older pilot said. "The holocameras were picking up some strange activity a few blocks from here, and since Darvix was a native, I asked him to go check it out. I didn't expect him to be ambushed by a few Stormies. Rather than risk them tracing him back here, he found an alternate place to spend the night, until he could merge with street traffic in the morning."

Darvix wasn't really sure if he was hearing things correctly. Had Corran just covered up for his own idiotic stunt the prior night? He had not only attacked the veteran pilot's beliefs, he had physically assaulted him. In his own anger, he left the safehouse and went to get a drink, only to get himself ambushed by stormtroopers. Had it not been for the Corellian smuggler he ran in to, he could have blown the entire mission for the Rogues before it even began. In a panic, he had run home to his mother. Still, it didn't make sense. Why was a Jedi covering for him?

"After he failed to report back in, I went to look for him, bringing Cheriss for support," Corran continued. "We made contact with him, and remained in hiding until morning."

Wedge nodded, "Now, why is the smuggler still with us?"

The tall Corellian, leaning against a far wall and staring up at the ceiling, shrugged, "What can I say? I was drawn by the beauty of your female agent."

Darvix shot Trrax Cynedres a look that could kill. As long as Darvix had known him, Trrax had never taken life seriously. It was a wonder he was still alive. Despite the smuggler's nonchalant attitude, Darvix was sure he would prove to be a vital addition to this mission. All that was left was to convince Wedge to keep him around.

"Darvix insisted that we bring him with us," Corran said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"This true, Dap?"

Darvix nodded his reply, "First and foremost, he's a security risk if we let him go. It would be in the best interest of the mission and our safety to keep him around."

"Logical conclusion," Wedge admitted.

"Second, he's been on world more recently than I have. Even though I'm a native, it's still been over four years since I was here last. Trrax has a better feel for this area than I do, especially the refugee sectors."

Wedge's ears perked at the last statement. If this smuggler was familiar with the refugee sector, he could prove to be an incredibly valuable addition to this mission. Sarkin and Tainer didn't have very much information to work with on that area of Nar Shadaa. This smuggler could accelerate the mission greatly, and that meant he had the potential to save the Rogues from doom.

"I see," Wedge replied. "He can stay."

Corran looked as if he had just swallowed some of Wedge's infamous roasted Taun-Taun. He couldn't believe Wedge was actually serious about keeping this no-name smuggler around, let alone allowing him to help on this sensitive mission.

"With all due respect," Corran said, "You've gone off the deep end!"

Wedge smiled and shrugged, "Can you blame him? Cheriss is a rather attractive young woman."

Corran opened his mouth to argue, but changed his mind as he realized all of his efforts would prove fruitless. Shaking his head, he turned around walked out of the makeshift office.

"Sorry about that," Wedge said to the smuggler across the room. "You know those CorSec types."

***


Several hours later, Lane "Ace" Azzameen and his crew were on board an aging skimmer heading towards the refugee sector. It had been a long journey for him to join the Rogues. In the days of the Rebellion post Hoth, he had joined after his father and brother were killed by an Imperial ambush as they were delivering badly needed Bacta to a Rebel outpost serving as a hospital. Always a natural with the flightstick, Ace had applied for Starfighter command. In those days, there was no Academy. The desperate need for pilots thrust him right into the fire. His 'evaluation exercise' was actually a hit and run on an Imperial cruiser. After that first mission, he had logged six kills, making him an instant ace. He remembered each of the skirmishes he fought in vividly, from his first assault on an Imperial convoy, to his daring flight to steal the Shuttle Tydirium, and to his horrifying time behind the gunner turret of the Millenium Falcon as they attacked the Death Star.

After Endor, Ace had been reassigned to Rebellion Intelligence, fitting for a young kid who had gotten praise from the Bothan SpyNet for his reconnaissance and sabotage work on Imperial communications. He had spent a good part of his life post-Endor on Imperial controlled worlds, and not just the usual backwater planets. One of his first assignments was on Coruscaunt, prior to its fall into Rogue Squadron's hands. He wasn't there for the overthrowing of the government itself, for he had been replaced on planet by Iella Wessiri and transferred to another project. Still, he missed the feeling of the flightstick and throttle in his hands. Being reassigned into Rogue Squadron was one of the greatest moments of the man's life.

Ace glanced out the transparisteel window if the skimmer and shook his head. It was all so reminiscent of what he had seen on Coruscaunt. On the higher levels were the well-to-do classes, benefiting from the suffering of the poor people below them, usually alien species forced to retreat into hiding. It was no different here on Nar Shadaa. The living conditions were terrible. All around them were shanties that were about as structurally sound as Janson after one too many shots of Corellian brandy.

"Lovely little place, eh Dap?" Wes asked the young Lieutenant in front of him.

Darvix shook his head, his cybernetic eyes making a soft whirring sound as they looked away from the windows. "I've never been down here, but I've heard stories. It was taboo even to talk about this place."

Inyri Forge, checking her holdout pistol, nodded. "Much like InviSec on Coruscaunt."

"From everything I've read and heard," Darvix said, "This place is worse."

At one end of the skimmer sat the Corellian smuggler, who up to this point had been silent. "This place has a history of corruption."

Ace looked over at Cynedres, "What can you tell us?"

"Nothing very pleasant," Cynedres said, sitting more upright. "Thousands of years ago, this was actually a refugee sector for humans scattered by the Mandalorian wars. The gangs in this area were the local government for them, aliens who despised the humans. They made life a living hell. Unfortunately, after Palpatine took control of the senate, life here had an about face."

Ace nodded his understanding, "The tides turned."

"Precisely," Cynedres replied. "The humans still on world felt empowered to take over the planetary government. A coup was staged, and the human species on this world gained control of the planet. Their first order of action was to inflict revenge. They rounded up aliens and forced them into the Refugee sectors, where they once suffered. Those who refused were killed."

At those words, Darvix felt a pang of guilt rush through him. The little Twi'lek girl in front of him, with his blaster drawn. He had met the aliens who refused. He had killed the aliens who refused. Just another link connecting him forever to the tyranny the Empire had inflicted upon countless souls.

"How hard is it going to be to find someone down there?" Ace asked, breaking Darvix's reverie.

The smuggler shook his head, "Next to impossible. There's hundreds of millions of people crammed into a one-hundred square kilometer area. Our only hope is to find someone that looks out of place. Ten credits are that person is this technician you're searching for."

"We'll take that into advisement," Ace said. "We're about thirty minutes from the drop-off. Remember, we need to stay low, and not draw attention to ourselves. I'm looking at you, Wes."

"You wound me," Wes replied with heavy sarcasm.

"You'll wound us with your antics," Ace quipped.

"Ten points, Azzameen," Inyri replied, only to earn a glare from Wes.

"You're sleeping on the sofa when we get home," Wes said.

"No I'm not," Inyri replied with a smile

Wes' shoulders slumped in defeat, "There's no way to beat a woman. They're worse than the Dark side of the Force."

"Yes, we are," Inyri replied warmly.

"Janson, Forge?" Ace asked.

Wes looked over at the group commander, "Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Yub Yub, Major," Inyri said with a grin.

***

Corran Horn had a bit of downtime, or rather, indefinite downtime. Until the advance party sent word back, the Rogues were pretty much confined to the safehouse. Boredom was high, and Corran thought he might have to put himself into a coma to save his sanity. As he was walking to his temporary bunk, realization hit him. He had yet to examine the holocrons that he had recovered from Darvix's home. He quickly retrieved them, and retreated to a somewhat private terminal to examine the data hidden within the devices.

He wired the aging holocron into the terminal and powered it on. Corran skimmed through the data, searching first for a name to tie in with this unnamed Jedi who had died on this world. He clicked on a logfile, and waited while it loaded. Skywalker would be pleased to get this information into the Jedi archives on Yavin IV. With a click, the screen displayed the first lines in a lengthy journal. Corran glanced at the first words, and stared in a semi-state of shock.

In bold letters, the journal was labeled as the property of one Derik Zorvan.

The final pieces of the puzzle finally fell in to place for Corran.