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Dark Times: Chapter One

Network

Part Five

Primary Interrogator, Major Erwin Rhovan watched impassively as the guards lowered the prisoner into the waiting chair and unhooked the suspension line from the binders around the man's wrists. The Major waved his hand and the droid, which hovered nearby, moved back. The doctor was gasping, moaning, shuddering.

Rhovan pulled another chair over for himself and sat down in front of the prisoner. He did not like moving an interrogation on so quickly. He preferred to move slowly, to gain control - both physical and mental - over a prisoner. Ignoring essential softening up techniques and going straight to applying pain to a prisoner was risky. However, the doctor was not a soldier, had not had training on how to react to questioning and was thus a softer target, and time was of the utmost importance if they were to move on the Rebel pilot's position.

"We know you have been working for the Resistance, Doctor Yian," the Major explained, softly. "We know you have been treating the Rebel pilot. We know you have been visiting the Esplanade."

"Pr...private...patient..." Yian panted through his pain.

Rhovan smiled. "Indeed," he looked up at the man who waited by the door. "Prohibitive patient, more like." He commented.

Ayrn laughed in response.

Rhovan leaned closer to Yian. "Who is harbouring him?"

"I...wouldn...n't know that..."

Ayrn stepped further into the room. "Come now, doctor. We have evidence against you which contradicts that."

"Show... show me," Yian demanded and immediately yelped as he was dealt a blow from behind by one of the guards.

"A back brace, a pair of crutches, anti-inflammatories," Ayrn explained. "I could go on, but we all know that the Rebel sustained injuries - that much was clear from the flight suit left in the troop carrier."

"What type of injuries would be consistent with ejecting from a fighter in planetary atmosphere, and a hard landing?" Rhovan asked.

The doctor looked up at him, trying to focus, his eyes almost swollen shut, his face battered and bloodied. "Depends...on the species."

"Human," Ayrn stated from behind. "Male."

Yian was confused, not understanding the switch in questioning. He was exhausted, and sore. His throat dry, his breathing laboured. "Fractures... are...likely, soft tissue damages," he gulped air. "Com...pression...damage to spinal area..ah..."

"Injuries which are consistent with the equipment and drugs you procured and never used to treat any of your patients," Ayrn told him, pleasantly. "Oh, and doctor?"

Yian tried to look around at him.

"You have no private patients in the Esplanade. We checked."

"Where is he doctor?" Rhovan questioned again. "Save yourself some pain, and tell me where he is."

Yian shook his head, slowly.

Rhovan's mouth turned down in anger. "Hoist him back up, bring the droid!"

"No! No, please!"

"Then where is he?"

"The Esplanade..."

"Where exactly?"

Yian hung his head, feeling defeated, feeling lost. "General Mahkren's townhouse."

There was silence, and then Rhovan laughed in delight, dark eyes dancing. He glanced at Ayrn who was also smiling. "I have to admire you doctor, I had thought you broken." He motioned to the guards. "A little more thinking time is required. Hoist him."

As the doctor squealed, and struggled in panic Rhovan turned to Ayrn. "We'll return when he's more willing to talk."

The chamber door slammed closed at their backs shutting out the man's screams.

"He's trying to buy time," Rhovan stated. "Waiting until it's past his time for visiting the Rebel again, waiting until the Resistance know he's been taken."

"Or he could be telling the truth about the General's house." Ayrn returned.

Rhovan chuckled again. "Your sense of humour is as warped as the good doctor's."

Ayrn laughed along, then turned serious. "Still, we shouldn't waste any more time. We know enough to raid the Esplanade. I'll contact the General, gain his permission first."

"I'm not sure that is such a wise move, Ayrn. The doctor…"

"It's exactly the move we need to take in light of this information," he clapped his hand on Rhovan's shoulder., laughing again. "You're just afraid to upset the General."

"Where is he just now?" Rhovan asked.

"At this hour? Home, sleeping." He smiled, shrugged, and then joked. "With a Rebel as a house guest."

Rhovan slapped his colleague's back, laughing loudly as they passed the control desk at the entrance to the cell corridor and the Duty Officer who stood there. "Then, rather you than me, Ayrn," he commented as the man stepped into the turbo lift. As the door closed he turned to the officer. "Have the doctor taken down and placed in a holding cell."

"Yes, sir"

He began to walk away towards his private office off from the main atrium. Then stopped giving another order. "I do not wish to be disturbed, unless they pick up the Rebel pilot."

"Of course, Sir."

General Mahkren stirred at the intermittent and persistent sound of the holo-transmitter. He frowned, pulling the thick quilt tighter around his body. The noise continued and the General sighed and turned onto his back. He opened his eyes, anger immediately welling up when he saw that it was still night. He turned, sat up in bed, and answered the call, seeing the small figure of Major Ayrn flicker on the nightstand.

"What?" He barked.

"The Rebel is being hidden in the Esplanade, Sir, as I... we thought," Ayrn reported, sounding elated, yet terribly nervous.

Mahkren had been afraid of this, had almost expected this. "And who, among my neighbours, would take such a risk?" Mahkren wanted to know.

Ayrn looked uncomfortable. "The doctor did not divulge that information, Sir. He... huh...stated the Rebel was in your house in an attempt to divert us, I believe, Sir."

"You disturbed me for this?" Mahkren voice rose in pitch. His home, indeed! His sleep interrupted on the unsubstantiated ramblings of a treasonous doctor.

"Uh, no, General, Sir. Rhovan believes the doctor is playing for time, to give the Resistance the opportunity to move the Rebel from the area. We need to search the Esplanade now, Sir, if we are to seize the initiative," he paused. "I need your permission, Sir."

The General deliberated on this. He had faith in his interrogator. Rhovan was good, and the information he tore from captives was frequently reliable. But he still didn't like this; didn't like that some very important people were going to be angered, didn't like to think that his neighbours and friends could be involved, that the Resistance could have reached such high positions in society. He grudgingly made his decision. "You have it, Ayrn. But no-one is hurt, and no damage done, unless I am informed first. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir," he paused again, looking uncomfortable. "And your home General?"

"What of it?"

"It would work to your benefit, General, if you allowed us to look there also."

Mahkren considered the suggestion. If he subjected his own dwellings to the same treatment it may appease his more vocal neighbours. "Very well, carry out your search. Alert me as soon as you have the Rebel and his guardians."

"Sir!" Ayrn saluted, and the hologram disappeared.

Mahkren threw his covers aside and reached for the clothes his housekeeper had set out for him before he retired. He would have to waken his son, alert his staff to the coming search. He pulled his boots on, laughed out loud. His house!

Then he stopped, slowly placed his foot on the floor as a disturbing thought occurred to him There were areas of his home he had never ventured into, areas set aside for his servants, for storage. Where better to hide a fugitive but under his very nose - his own roof. He stood, drew on his gun belt and left his room. He made his way downstairs leaving his son sleeping and his staff ignorant.

In the gloom of the detention centre, Dade reached for the comlink in his uniform pocket. In fear of signals being traced, the Network had been operating under communication silence since they had rescued the Alliance pilot. However, using the device now would be the only way to alert his operatives to the coming danger, so it was a chance he would have to take. He keyed the device, spoke quickly and shut it off hoping it was enough.

Taln dragged a sack out from under the cot and as Luke buttoned his shirt up and watched, he drew out two blasters and tossed one onto the bed beside the younger man. He opened the bag Isla had brought down still filled with clothes for Luke and emptied the pilot's medication bottles into it. He looked back at Luke. "You still got that feeling?"

Luke nodded. It was like a lead weight of fear knotting in his stomach, an urgency pushing at him from within.

Taln closed up the bag, glanced back at Luke, at his cast, at the crutches by the bed. He didn't know why, but he trusted this boy's intuition. However, if anything was happening they would have to move quickly and that cast would hamper them.

"Here," he knelt before Luke, dragging a pair boots from the bag. He then produced a vibroblade from the sack and sliced the cast open. "Doc said it was coming off anyway," he told him.

The comlink Taln carried buzzed to life and, as he reached into his pocket, the door behind them swept open and both turned with blasters in hand. Isla stepped back in fright and they relaxed a little, lowering the weapons.

"There's stormtroopers in the Esplanade!" she told them breathlessly.

Taln activated his comlink and Dade's voice snapped. "Get out!"

Their actions took on a new urgency. Isla jammed Luke's boots onto his feet. Taln shouldered the bag, reached for Luke and drew him up, slung his arm around him and, in similar fashion to his arrival, Luke was carried from the room. However, now he was able to move a little better, take more of his own weight, and so they travelled faster along the corridor and down the stairs, listening as they went to the thumping of stormtrooper boots in the house above.

Isla opened the passageway to the subterranean tunnels and the two men hurried through. Taln leaned Luke against the roughly hewn wall and turned toward the Twi'lek as the boy gulped for breath and grabbed at the wall for balance.

"Give me the detonator," Isla demanded.

Taln hesitated. "Isla, I..."

"There's no time, Taln. Give it to me. It'll be my pleasure to bring this place down."

Luke heaved in another breath as he listened to his helpers with interest and disquiet. He had a very good idea what they were talking about and the fact that the Network had wired the building for demolition did not completely surprise him. He watched as a mixture of emotions cross the woman's face; anger, grief, fear and determination. He gripped the blaster tightly taking small comfort in the feel of it in his hand.

Taln fished a small device from his pocket and handed it to his comrade. "Good luck," he wished her, his voice quiet with understanding.

"You, too," Isla returned.

"Thank you," Luke said, from the side.

She smiled at him. "You'd better be worth the trouble, Luke," she told him. And the door closed her abruptly off from them, plunging them into pitch darkness. A torch flared, shining in his face. He blinked, shading his eyes with his hand.

"Time to go, kid," Taln informed him, pulling Luke away from the wall. "And I don't think we have much of it."

They moved as quickly as they could along the tunnels, down slopes and stairs, along, up and around corners with the torchlight bobbing before them.

Isla sealed the door shut, locking it with a code only she knew. She turned, dropping the detonator into her apron pocket, and calmly made her way through the sub-basement, trying to act natural, trying not to run. She passed the room where the boy had been hidden for the past weeks.

"El'lana."

The voice saying her true name was quiet, but gruff, and it stopped her in her tracks. As she turned towards the room she could feel the blood draining from her upper body down into the pit of her stomach, where it churned and gurgled making nausea a physical symptom of her fear.

"General?" She tried to sound bright, normal, but her voice shook, betraying her. "Did I miss your call? I..."

The General was sitting on the mussed up cot holding the cut bacta cast in his hands. "No, but it looks like I missed a guest," he lifted the cast and motioned to the crutches. "Perhaps you have something to tell me."

She stepped into the room and looked around. "No, Sir. I believe the evidence speaks for itself." Her fear seemed to dissipate as she spoke and a stillness, a quiet, washed through her. An understanding.

Mahkren's face reddened with rage. He stood, threw the cast aside, and took hold of her. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he whispered with revulsion. "Do you have any idea how this will look!" He slapped her at the end of every statement. "I let you into my home. Gave you employment! Trusted you!" His voice was rising, the slapping became punches. "And you bring the Resistance to my home! A Rebel into my house!" he thundered.

Isla sagged under the barrage of blows, her lips burst, her skin bruised. He caught her, dragged her out, called to his stormtroopers. "Take this bitch to Rhovan!"

The troopers caught hold of her arms, pulling her along. She stumbled and fell to her knees. As they pulled her up she dipped her hand into her pocket and smiled as her fingers closed around the detonator.

The explosions rocked the area, knocking them off their feet, caused great cracks to run along the fragile ceilings above them. Rocks fell, more tremors kept them down. A rush of air and dust swept along the corridor, covering them. Taln, coughing and spluttering, dragged Luke up; ignoring his protests of pain, then ran on as the tunnel where they had lain was lost in a cascade of rubble. The noise was tremendous, all encompassing; the roar of fires, the rumble of falling masonry.

"Come on... help me here, kid," Taln pleaded as Luke stumbled again. He heaved him up, steadied him and they lurched forward through the gathering dust.

At last the thundering died, quietened and their pace slowed to a walk. Luke bent forward trying to catch his breath, hacking up debris from heaving lungs. Taln placed him down into the dirt, shone the light in his face and squinted trying to see through grit and tear filled eyes. The boy was caked in a light power. It was thick in his hair, and hot tears from irritated eyes streaked through it down his cheeks. Taln knew he looked very similar.

Luke spat into the dirt, sucked saliva into his mouth and spat again. All he could taste was dry grime. He groaned, rolled onto his back and covered his face with his arm, as he tried to catch his breath. "I don..." he started, but his voice dried up, caught in his arid throat.

He barked a cough, holding his rib cage with his arm as his healing ribs objected painfully. "Don't suppose... you have any water in... that bag?" he finished, gasping.

"No," Taln croaked back, sitting down. He placed his blaster on the floor beside him and rubbed his face with his palms. His leg muscles cramped painfully from the exertion of the run and from carrying the younger man. "But there's a place we can go, not far."

Luke looked back the way they had come, but could see nothing beyond the torchlight. "I think you brought down some of your tunnels along with the house," he observed.

"The house was a bonus," Taln told him, and then explained. "It was the tunnels we wanted to bring down. If they had followed us they would have found the entire network." Then he laughed, the sound was hoarse, a little hysterical from relief at their survival. "Sounded like we brought down the entire block."

Luke found this news more than a little disturbing. One house meant several people dead or injured because of him. A whole block could push that figure into the hundreds, and he was afraid for Isla. "Taln," he started hesitantly. "This wasn't just to protect me was it?"

"Don't have such a high opinion of yourself, kid," Taln admonished quietly, catching on to Luke's train of thought. "It was done to protect the tunnels, to protect the Network as I said, and to protect us both. If Mahkren's house wasn't brought down just now it would have been soon enough."

"Mahkren?"

"General Mahkren. System Commander of Escaal."

"System Commander?" Luke was incredulous, astonished. "You hid me in..."

Taln chuckled. "Yeah, right under his nose!" Then he turned serious, his words tinged with bitter hatred. "And if we're lucky the bastard was killed."

"And Isla? The other people living in the area?"

"I'm hoping she got out," Taln explained. In the torchlight he looked grieved, pained and Luke, having lost friends and comrades to combat, could empathise. "As for the others," Taln went on, "This was the Imperial Esplanade where the higher echelons chose to live, and to us it was always a legitimate target."

"A residential area?" Luke's words were more biting than he intended.

Taln's face coloured with sudden anger. "You're judging us?" he laughed, humourlessly.. "You of all people are judging us? How many civilians have you killed, Lieutenant-Commander? How many have suffered due to your attacks? What of the non-military personnel at the weapon's plant you took out? The surrounding urban area that burned down when the storage sections below them blew?"

Luke cursed his quick words. He hadn't intended to upset Taln, to appear as though he was condemning him and Isla for their actions. After all, he was only still alive and free due to them. But, the fact that others had to be sacrificed for his liberty sat uneasily with him. It always would. "I understand about war, Taln. I know that every time I pull a trigger someone dies," he explained quietly, regretfully. "I'm not judging you. I'm grateful to you, and Isla. It's just, all this...seems deliberate."

As Taln thought about that word, his burst of anger subsided and he gradually realised what Luke was struggling with. He nodded. "Yes, it was deliberate. The Empire will condemn it as an act of terrorist aggression. That's your point isn't it? What is the difference between a bombing run on a munitions development factory, and the bombing of the homes of Imperial ranks?" he shrugged. "Let me tell you, in the eyes of the Empire there is no difference. You. Me. We're both terrorists. To us, to ourselves we're whatever we chose to think."

He rubbed more grit from his face. "Me? I'm a Resistance fighter. I do whatever it takes to make the Empire's presence here difficult. You? You're an idealist."

"Maybe once I was," Luke agreed, thinking about himself when he first became involved, his naiveté, his obvious enthusiasm and verve. Now, two years on, he was tired, soured somewhat. He had seen too much death, had caused too many deaths. He had lost and grieved. He had run and continued to fight, because now he had gone too far to turn back and had nowhere, but the Alliance, to call home. However, beneath it all, he still believed he was doing the right thing, following the right path, and he had the memories of his aunt and uncle, Ben Kenobi and Biggs to spur him on when he doubted. "Maybe I still am and..."

"Maybe this isn't the place for philosophical debates," Taln interrupted, pushing himself to his feet. "You think too much, Luke. Sometimes you just have to do the thing!" He held out his hand. "Come on. We've rested enough, we need to get to the hide."

Luke took Taln's offered hand and was pulled upright. He groaned, his legs threatened to fold, his ankle pulsed painfully, his back cramped. "I think my drugs are wearing off," he complained as they moved forward.

"It's not far," Taln reassured him as he steadied him.

They walked on through the tunnels, footsteps muffled on the dry dirt of the floor, sweat beginning to bead on their foreheads, run down their faces. They wiped it and the cloying powder away. Luke's limbs were tight and sore from activity, he was dizzy, nauseous and, by the time Taln stopped again, each breath he took was quietly punctuated with a low exclamation of his exertion.

Taln leaned Luke against the wall. "A few minutes more, Luke, then you can rest."

Luke merely nodded, unable to do anything else except concentrate on staying on his feet.

Taln swept the torch across the wall, prised his fingers into a gap in a brick and worked it out. Underneath was a door panel and he quickly punched in a code, a split appeared in the wall and Taln shouldered it open. He swept the torch around the darkness highlighting packing cases, emergency lanterns and a thin mattress on the floor. He took hold of Luke and brought him into the room, lowering him onto the mattress. Then he turned away activated one of the lights and brought it over and set it beside Luke before rummaging in the crates and withdrawing canisters of water.

"How are you doing?" he asked, helping Luke sit up straighter, back against the wall. He handed the pilot one of the bottles, then cracked open one himself. They both took a drink and washed out their mouths, then took long gulps, relishing the coolness, the wetness on their dry throats. They used the remaining liquid to wash their faces, to cleanse the grit from their eyes.

"Better for that," Luke told him as his breathing became less laboured.

Taln opened the bag he had carried and took out Luke's medication. He tossed the boy the bottle then retrieved more water from the case.

Luke threw some tablets to the back of his throat, and washed them down. "Now what?" he asked, looking around the tiny underground room, clearly not relishing his new surroundings.

Taln sat back on his heels. "Well, there's enough food and water in here for several days. Take it easy with it and it might last into a couple of weeks. You've got clothes, your drugs, there's blankets and a blaster." He looked up at the low ceiling. "After tonight...things'll be worse..." He trailed off, sounding troubled.

Luke didn't like the sound of Taln's words, his use of "you" and not "we". A small flutter of anxiety rippled in his stomach. "You're leaving me here?"

"I need to contact Dade," Taln explained, seeing the flare of fear in Luke's eyes, the reluctance to remain by himself in this place. Taln couldn't blame him; he would be loathed to stay here himself. "It's going to be difficult to get to him so I need to be where he can get to me, and this isn't it. Given what's just happened I could be gone a few hours, or a day or two. Shouldn't be anymore. Okay?"

"You mentioned a couple of weeks," Luke reminded him, sounding sullen and suspicious.

Taln smiled at that. "Worst case scenario," he assured the younger man, he stood, brushed more grit and grime from his clothes. "Okay, code for the door is seven one six. You should be able to hear if anyone approaches. If they're Network they'll give a codeword."

"Seven one six," Luke repeated, and then questioned. "Which is?"

"For you it's 'Flyby'."

Luke wilted in resignation. "I don't suppose there's any reading material in those boxes?" he asked motioning over to where the packing crates lay.

Taln shrugged, retrieved his flashlight and blaster. "You could have a look, but I doubt it." He turned towards the door, but the soft voice behind stopped him.

"How do you think they found us?"

"The doctor. I think the doctor was taken," his voice was grave. "It's the only thing I can think of just now."

Luke nodded. After over hearing the two men argue he had been thinking the same. "Don't the Imperials know about the tunnels?" He'd asked this before and gotten the brush off from Taln, now however he was pretty sure Taln would answer a lot of his questions.

"In sections, yes. But they gave them no importance, and in places they filled them in before building on top. The Resistance re-opened them, tunnelled more, and found a larger complex the Imperials hadn't."

Luke was wanting to ask who had initially built them and why, but he had a more burning, more significant question. "And if the doctor tells them?"

"Lets hope they don't ask him, huh?" He moved toward the still open door, was almost through when Luke had another question for him.

"Uh, Taln?" he sounded uncomfortable, embarrassed. "Where do I... You know. Uh, take a leak?"

Taln flashed him a grin, surprised that there was still humour in this dark place. "Pick a tunnel."

Then he was gone, the door closing behind him, and Luke was left in silence. He leaned his head against the brick wall at his back, starting to feel the anti-inflammatories take effect, grateful that the pain was beginning to subside somewhat, but utterly dejected by the turn of events. He could not see any way back to the Alliance, and if he believed what Taln had been saying there would be little chance of him getting out of the city, let alone off world. The Empire appeared to be only one step behind him now, and if the doctor had broken under questioning, then all it would take was the right question asked and they'd be in the tunnels and at that door.

The most irritating thing was his inability to help himself. He was at the mercy of the Resistance group, had to follow their directions, had to bite back his impatience and let himself be carried. He shifted on the mattress, uncomfortable, the back brace chafing his skin. He was sure dirt and powder had worked its way underneath the brace, but if he took it off he wouldn't get it back on without help. His stomach rumbled and he glanced at the packing crates wondering what supplies were on offer.

Carefully, he manoeuvred himself to the side and, gripping onto the bricks with his hands, he pulled himself upwards onto his feet hissing with pain as he did so. He paused to allow the discomfort to subside and then gingerly crossed to the pile of boxes. Once there, he slowly lowered himself to his knees and lifted the lid.

The box held several bottles of water, some sealed packages of emergency food rations and some basic medical supplies. Luke lifted another bottle of water and some rations. Just as carefully he returned to the mattress with his goods and sat back down. He was discouraged at the amount of effort it took to complete simple acts, at how much energy he had to use, at how he had to concentrate. He hated this, abhorred this weakness, this whole situation.

But surely this rather than the fate the Imperials would have in store for him, he chided himself. At least here there was still a glimmer hope of getting out and back to the Rebellion - even if he couldn't yet see it.

"Get a grip, Luke," he told himself, his voice sounding strange in the silence. He popped a seal on one of the food packs, grimaced at the look of the dried meat, checked the use by date, bit down and chewed using a drink of water to help wet his mouth.

By the time he was finished eating, the pills he had taken were having their full effects and he was tired and drowsy. He grabbed a blanket and rolled it into a pillow, placed his blaster on the dirt next to the makeshift bed, then he lay down and tried to sleep.