All previous disclaimers apply...

Dark Time Chapter One:

Network

Part Three

"We've found the troop carrier, Sir," the young, nervous Captain reported.

"And?" General Mahkren barked from behind his desk. He was a large man, tall and stout, grey headed, heavily bearded and short in temper. The Resistance on Escaal had been a thorn in the side of his predecessor, and after failing to catch a particularly difficult dissident during the uprising almost three years previously, he had been replaced by Mahkren.

The General's mandate was simple; root out the Resistance and end its communication with the Alliance. And root out he did; ruthlessly rounding up sympathisers and their families. He brought in the best Interrogation Specialist in the sector and mass executions ensued as confession followed confession. The Resistance quietened down with only sporadic life signs as patrols were ambushed, or suspected Alliance sympathisers disappeared before they could be arrested.

Until now.

The Weapons Development and Production Programme he had brought to Escaal was burning. Hundreds of Imperial personnel were dead, dying or maimed, some of them close friends. One of the perpetrators of the outrage had been apprehended and then lost before he could face the consequences of his actions. And Central Imperial Command would be asking some difficult questions once word reached them. The Resistance had raised its profile once more and fed information to the Alliance - that fact alone mocked him as only his own staff could have leaked information about the weapons plant to the Rebels, only his own staff could have rescued the downed pilot.

Yes, the Resistance had been quiet - quietly working its way into the rank and file of his own men. His mood darkened, and he raised his eyes to the nervous officer before him. "And?" he repeated, snapping the word.

"Five dead, Sir. One Officer, four troopers." He seemed to brighten as he remembered something. "We have the Rebel's droid, the technicians are working on it now to retrieve any information it may hold in its memory..." He trailed off.

"And why is Colonel Hume not telling me this himself?"

"He's co-ordinating the search and rescue effort at the munitions..."

"And what of the search and arrest effort of the rebel pilot, of the Resistance operatives?" Mahkren snarled, "Who is co-ordinating that?"

"Well, the Colonel..."

"Is an idiot!" The General sat back in his chair and studied the young man before him, noting the anxiousness, but also seeing determination and conviction. Noting the General's interest, the Captain straightened and set his jaw.

"Tell me, Captain Ayrn," Mahkren started again. "Where do you see yourself heading within the Empire."

"If I may speak candidly, sir?"

The General spread his hands, palm open. "Of course."

"In your chair, Sir."

"Really?" Mahkren leaned forward, eyes narrow. "Ambition is a worthy thing to have, goals and aims important. But, you have to make sacrifices and difficult decisions, you have to take actions and give orders you personally find hard to stomach. You would be directly responsible for many deaths."

He paused to let his words sink in. "Do you believe in your Empire enough for that type of command?"

"I do, Sir."

The General smiled, teeth yellow and feral among the beard. "Well then, let us test this ambition of yours, Major Ayrn," he stressed the promotion. "You will take direct responsibility for the arrest of the rebel pilot and his Resistance rescuers."

The surprise, the delight and pride which swamped him at his sudden promotion was immediately dashed, and Ayrn swallowed uneasily, fearfully, understanding what failure would signify for him, understanding that the Resistance had several hours head start and already he was regretting his bold statement to the General. He cleared his throat. "Any means, sir?"

"Of course, Major. And what ever resources you require will be at your disposal. But take him alive, I want an example made of him."

"Yes, Sir, and thank you, Sir," Ayrn saluted, turned smartly on his heels and left the room, his body's calm exterior neatly hiding his sickening dismay at his orders, but nestling among that was a seed of excitement, a thrill of anticipation. Here was his chance to prove himself, to set himself apart and become noticed by the higher echelons of the Empire. Instead of fearing this duty, instead of dwelling on the "what ifs" of failure, he was going to grasp this opportunity to advance and no-one, especially the Rebel scum he would be searching for, would halt that progression.

By the time he had entered the elevator to descend to the incident rooms he had formulated the immediate actions he would have to take, and decided on which officers he could draft to his command. He smiled. He would personally alert the prison to be ready to received his "guests."

He sat with his back to the room, staring out of the window at the rain beating on the ground of the street beyond, at the road block, staffed by stormtroopers on the intersection, at the lines of speeders waiting to pass through. Then he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and massaged the bridge of his nose. The backlash had started almost immediately and now, several days on, it continued with no sign of abating; Imperial soldiers were clearing and searching huge areas of the city and surrounding suburbs. Homes and property had been destroyed. The spaceports were closed all over the planet, all craft, apart from authorised transports, were grounded. There were roadblocks, and random checks. The prisons were filling up with those who protested, or those whom the Empire considered suspects; including many survivors of the attack on the munitions plant. There had been fatalities.

"How many?" he asked of the man behind him.

"Doc says eight, probably more," Taln answered. He was seated at a dining table, a glass of rich red wine set before him on the polished surface. The room was in shadow, the only light trickling in from the window Dade now sat at. It had been sunny when Taln arrived, the light streaming through the window and sparkling off the chandelier that hung from the ceiling. But, as Taln had begun updating his superior on current events, the sun had faded behind clouds, and the sky had darkened with rain, almost as though the weather was responding to the feelings of the men in the room.

"Eight weeks," Dade responded with concern. "We've never hidden anyone more than three, and never under these circumstances. How many dead?"

"Early estimates say thirty."

Dade abruptly turned around, his fingers tapping a console beside the window.

The room suddenly brightened and Taln had to blink quickly to adjust his vision. He lifted the wine glass and sipped, watching Dade with hooded eyes as the man crossed the room to the table, lifted the wine bottle and poured himself another drink.

His superior looked tired, worn. His dark eyes heavy, his face drawn and pale, and a spattering of grey highlighted his brown hair. "You're thinking we shouldn't have helped the Rebel?"

Dade lifted his head, saw Taln's searching gaze. "No, not at all," he smiled, briefly. "It was the right thing to do at the time. They were wanting a captive, we needed to deprive them of him."

"And Isla's suggestion?"

Dade looked quizzically at him. "And that was?"

"A blaster bolt to the head."

Dade laughed. "Straight to the point as always." He joined Taln at the table. "And what do you think, Taln. Did we do the right thing?"

Taln hesitated, took another sip of wine before answering. "Are you talking about the boy? Or about giving the Alliance the information about the weapons development programme?"

Dade considered the wine in his glass. "Both."

"The munitions production had to stop, the development programme terminated - you said it yourself," Taln reminded him. "The boy? Well, as you say we always have to consider the bigger picture."

Dade nodded, smiling again. "A blaster bolt to the head, yes?"

"No, protect the Rebels to protect the Network," Taln repeated Dade's words from several days before the attack, when the possibility of pilots being shot down was discussed with Alliance command. "We all agreed, gave the Alliance our word."

"Yes, but... eight weeks... with no open lines of escape. And Mahkren taking his revenge on the general population for our actions." Dade returned to his chair by the window. It was still raining. "We'll have to move him out of the city."

Taln shook his head. "Doc says we can't, just yet. We'd risk paralysing him. Besides all escape routes out are blocked just now. Even the tunnels don't extend that far."

Dade drained his glass. The Network existed for three reasons; to help and assist political opponents and dissidents, to pass on intelligence to the Rebel Alliance and to disrupt and annoy the Imperial presence on Escaal. Dade had joined them three years previously and as section commanders of the underground escaped to the Alliance, or were regretfully captured or killed, Dade had swiftly moved up the ranks. He now commanded Escaal's entire Resistance operations. It had taken many months of quiet subterfuge, on the part of many operatives, to plan the munitions plant attack with the Alliance, and it would appear that the mandate of "disrupt and annoy" had been carried out to the letter.

The disappearance of the Alliance pilot would now add to that annoyance. However, they were now paying a high price for their activities.

"Okay," he said again breaking the moment's silence. "He stays where he is, for now. They won't think of searching there for a while. We'll move him later when things are quieter."

"He mentioned an Artoo unit which ejected with him and..."

Dade nodded. "I know. Droid techs have it. It's locked down solid just now. Out of our hands."

"He says it contains information about the Alliance."

"I'm not risking men's lives for a droid, no matter what it contains," Dade said with some finality. "But, for what it's worth they can't get anything out of it. Can't even reactivate it.

"And what of our operations?" Taln wanted to know.

"Cease immediately. Stand everyone down. Get word out to the populace, that no one resists, no one protests. There have been enough deaths. When they come looking, let them in." He checked his chronometer. "I'm due on duty."

"Busy?"

"Mahkren has promoted Ayrn to Major."

"Ayrn?" Taln frowned, picturing the young officer. "That snivelling tree-myre!" His face darkened. "He's given him the task of searching for us?"

Dade nodded. "And he's tackling his order's with his usual zeal. Kissing Mahkren's ass."

"So, you're busy." It was a statement, no longer a question. "Ayrn's like a Ilothillian sabre dog with a bone. He won't give up until he has every bit of marrow."

Dade stood, straightened his dark tunic, with a sharp tug and adjusted his rank insignia. He glanced out of the window. "My speeder's here."

"I'll contact you soon, keep you informed of the Rebel's condition."

Dade paused at the door of the room. "You know, Taln... " he stopped, looked at the floor, regret colouring his words. "Despite our agreement with the Alliance, if Ayrn doesn't scale things down, we may have to carry out Isla's suggestion." He glanced back up. "Do you think you could do it?"

"Kill the boy?" Taln's eyes narrowed as he considered Dade's words, thinking of the young man who had been entrusted to him. It was true he had not yet formed a definite impression of the youth. That he showed courage was obvious, that he was able to show concern and regret for others was admirable given his own condition. That Taln knew his name - even just a first name made someone a person - was unfortunate. And he was young.

However, Taln also recognised the difficulties the Network now faced after rescuing him, understood the dynamics of the personality of the man assigned the task to hunt for them. This time, the Network had, perhaps, underestimated the Empire's response. The Rebel was only one man, the city held millions of families all of whom could suffer should Ayrn and Mahkren not find their prize.

He nodded slowly in reply to Dade, and despite their promise to the Rebel Alliance. "Yes."

Taln sat finishing his wine for several minutes after Dade left the apartment. Then he too made his way from the building, down a flight of stairs to a door at the back of the building near the rear entrance. It opened into a maintenance closet, at the back there was a small access hatch set into the floor. Taln prised it open, dropped down and closed it behind him. In the foundation wall of the building was another opening and once through that he was into the tunnels over which the city was built. He moved quickly, making his way back to the sparse room where his young charge lay.

Whistling, the droid technician entered his workshop and switched on the lights. The room was thrown into sharp relief. The mess of wires on the workbench, the bank of computers, the odd and ends and spare parts from various machines, the row of deactivated droids at the back wall. The Rebel droid...

The technician stopped, turned and looked around the room. Then he raced back out the door and into the corridor, frantically looking up and down its length. He ran into the next room, then the next...

He returned to his own workstation, threw himself into a chair and buried his head in his hands. How could he have lost the droid? Had it been taken? Could the Resistance have come in and taken it? Wouldn't they have been seen? What would he tell command? Questions buzzed around his mind in a maddening, confusing blend. Then, slowly, they clarified themselves, his thoughts becoming clear.

He would lie.

Luke wakened slowly, relishing the warmth, the dark, the comfort of the bed, the pillow under his head and the blanket over his body. He stretched, and was immediately alert as a quiver of needles pierced his back. He hissed, steeling himself for further discomfort and was pleasantly surprised when the pain settled into a gentle throb.

"So you're awake," Taln's voice noted from shadows. There was some mirth in its tones.

Luke turned his head, blinked as the light was switched on and he saw Taln settle back into the hard chair by the door after switching on the light. "Don't you ever go home?" he asked.

"Just following orders," the man responded, smiling. "Would you like help to sit up?"

"I don't know if I even want to try sitting up," Luke told him. His pain levels were tolerable and he was loathed to try anything that would cause them to rise again. He wasn't exactly sure how long he had been holed up with the Resistance in this tiny room. The first few days had been spent flat on his back and secured to minimise his movements. The Doc had been periodically checking on his progress and dispensing more drugs. His shoulder had been popped back into place; his ribs and ankle fractures were healing well, though his leg was still encased in a bacta cast, along with a maddening itch.

His back injury was healing also, the swelling responding to the anti-inflammatories, and they had been encouraging him to sit up, get out of bed and take a few unsteady steps supported by the crutches the doc had supplied. He had also been able to take his first welcome shower in the bathroom next door.

"But, since you offered..."

Taln crossed the room and helped Luke manoeuvre himself into a sitting position. "There," he told the pilot, "that didn't hurt as much."

Luke stared at him, dubiously. "Maybe not for you," he observed, dryly.

Taln chuckled, brought the chair over and placed it beside Luke's cot. As he sat back down he said, "I've got some information on your droid."

This news brightened Luke up a little. "Where is he? Is he okay?"

Taln shrugged. "He's in Imperial Headquarters, droid technicians have been trying to reactivate him."

"He's damaged?" Luke asked in dismay.

Taln shook his head. "Don't think so. But, they can't get into his data banks. It's locked tight."

Luke smiled at first; Artoo could be stubborn when he chose to be. Then he sobered as another thought occurred to him. "They'll take him apart, won't they?"

The older man shrugged. "Possibly. Probably. Depends on what they think he has stored in his memory."

"There's no chance of trying to get him out?" Luke questioned dolefully, already knowing the answer.

Taln merely raised his eyebrows, smiled and shook his head again. "We have a little more to be concerned about than your droid, I'm afraid," he explained gravely. "We're unable to contact the Alliance to let them know we have you. And we can't get you off world until the fuss over the attack dies down, and the search for you ends..." Taln tailed off.

"And they won't call the search off until they have me," Luke finished for him.

"But, we're hoping they'll scale down in the next few weeks, which may give us an opening to move you out of the city. Once we've achieved that, we might be able to get a message out to the Alliance, and arrange for them to come and pick you up away from a populated centre."

Luke stared at the four bland walls of the room. Being moved appealed him, a change of scenery seemed stimulating. If he hadn't had Taln's company, Isla popping in and out and the doc coming every other day to monitor his progress, he was sure he would have gone mad with boredom. "Can't I be moved sooner?" he inquired, as the door to the room slid open and the doctor entered carrying his med-pack.

"No," the medic answered for Taln. "You're not fit enough for the journey, and I had to come through three check points just to get here."

Behind him Taln frowned

"Where is here?" Luke queried, interested and a little perplexed, not seeing Taln's change of mood. "If they're searching everywhere else then, why not here?"

"If you value your life, Luke, stop asking questions!" Taln turned to the doctor, a grin replacing the scowl. "It's all he's done since he woke up."

Luke frowned, recalling his conversation with Taln. "Have I?" Then realised he'd answered with another question. He smiled, shrugged, then winced as his shoulder protested a little. "Sorry," he offered.

"Well, let's see how you're doing," the medic suggested, pulling the blanket away from Luke. "I've brought the back brace I was speaking about, but I want to see you moving around again before I show you how to wear it. I've also got some exercises I want you to start. How's the ankle feeling?"

As Luke replied, and the doctor worked, Taln left the room giving them more room and privacy. It was cooler in the corridor and smelled a lot fresher than the room in which he'd spent most of the last two weeks with the pilot. He leaned against the wall waiting for the doctor to finish.

"Loitering?" Isla questioned, from the stair well. She was carrying a very welcome tray of breakfast, a jug of fresh water and a couple of glasses. A large, weighty looking bag hung from her bent elbow.

Taln smiled in greeting. "Doc's with him, again."

She handed the tray to him. "Here take this. I feel like a beast of burden."

"A burden, but never a beast, Isla," Taln joked with gentle humour. "What's in the bag?"

"Well, after a remark like that I'm wishing it was a heavy brick." she smiled. "Clothes for our young friend. He needs a change from those fatigues he came in. I requisitioned them and some boots from the General's son."

The frown returned. "That was risky."

"Nonsense," Isla laughed. "It's part of my duties to over see the laundry in the house and sort out the clothing. Besides, the spoiled brat won't notice they're gone and... But she noticed he still frowned. "What's wrong?"

He placed the tray on the floor, poured himself a glass of water, stood and took a long draught. "How did the doc arrive?"

"By speeder. Why?"

Taln poured the remaining water from his glass into his hand and ran it over his face.

"We have washrooms, you know, Taln." Isla's voice was grave. "What is it?"

"He should have used the tunnels, he's been told to use the tunnels," Taln observed, angrily. "He's taking too many chances coming through check points, especially when carrying supplies for the boy."

"Then you'll have to talk with him, and..."

There was a thump and cry of pain from the room. Taln palmed opened the door and stuck his head in, immediately spotting Luke - dressed only in shorts and a white back brace - on the floor and the doctor trying to lift him back up. The Rebel's face was flushed, he was breathing hard through gritted teeth.

Taln went to him taking Luke's other arm and helped the doctor hoist him into the chair.

Luke shook his head, feeling downhearted and sore. Pins and needles were racing up and down his legs. "This is ridiculous! I can't afford to be here any longer. I need to get back to my squad."

The medic crouched at his side, trying to adjust the back brace he had fitted. "What you need is time to heal, Luke."

"I don't have time!" Luke burst, frustration biting his words. He was furious at himself for failing to take more steps unaided, furious at getting himself into this situation. Furious at getting shot down in the first place. He looked up at the three of them, feeling foolish, feeling despondent.

"Look," he told them, more calmly. "I'm not an idiot, I know what's happening out there," he gestured upward, indicating by his words and the action the city beyond. "I know the risks you're all taking for me. I just feel I should be doing more in return."

"You can't," Taln told him shortly.

"He can," Isla countered, handing Luke the bag. "He can put some clothes on and stop feeling sorry for himself. Then he can eat the breakfast I've brought down."

Luke took the bag, opened it and began to fish around.. "Thanks," he told the Twi'lek woman with some regret for his outburst. "I appreciate what you're doing for me." He drew out a pair of under shorts: briefs more than boxers. They were small, black and the fabric stretched as he pulled on the waistband, though he was sure they would fit only to his hips.

"Good. Now, get dressed. It doesn't do my old heart any good seeing you lounging around half naked, especially if you're going to wear those," she retorted with a wink.

Taln laughed at the surprised look on the boy's face. "You have a filthy mind, Isla," he told her as he ushered her out. He turned to Luke with a grin, nodded at the briefs he still held and quipped. "One size fits all, huh, Luke?" Then he laughed at the flush that covered the youth's features.

"Now," the physician said to Luke with a smile. "About those exercises."