The Snotzenexer Trilogy

by Dave

An Imperial Admiral uses Cold War tactics to dismantle the Republic and place himself in command. UPDATE! I have published Fantasy Novels on Amazon. You can search for my name, "David Pontier," or the title of the first book in the series, "The Scepter of Amon."

3. A New Rebellion

A New Rebellion

by David Pontier

dpontier@hotmail.com

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Prelude "The Zorian"

Darth Sidious grinned.

This act seemed impossible to one who had no face, but small technicalities like that did not bother the Dark Lord right now. His existence over most of the last three decades had been one of turmoil and suffering. His mind had not been able to cope with the fact that he had failed. And now that his time on the physical realm was past, he had to "live" with the agony of that failure.

A boy and his father had defeated him. The greatest children's author in the galaxy could not have written a more touching scene. The son had been rejected - even hated - by his father, but at the end, love had won out and hatred and evil had been thrown down an elevator shaft and forgotten.

The Zorian was coming, and now Darth Sidious had the ability to change all that. Though the Zorian was coming, it was, in a sense, already here. In the nether realm time had no meaning. Sidious floated around without occupying space or time. His existence was a mental one, and his mind's consciousness had long ago transcended time. The wait was more of a crescendo than it was an actual passing of time.

In the physical realm minutes, hours, days, and years passed by like the landscape to a speederbike. At the same time, a split second in the land of the living could last upwards of a century for any given spirit in the nether realm. This meaningless idea of time meant that interaction between the two realms took great skill. The skill to act upon the physical realm was not a matter of timing. It was not a when, but a how and a what.

The "what" was simple: The Zorian. The how was a bit trickier.

The universe is infinite. The idea of infinity is not explainable for no mind could remain sane if it were to glimpse even a portion of the concept. Because of this, those who have to exist in it break up the universe into more easily handled portions. The infinite fabric of the universe has been stretched in places to allow finite amounts of mass. It is these points of mass on which life bases its concept of the universe. Collections of these points of mass are called solar systems. Collections of them are called sectors. Finally, the total collection of explored sectors is called a galaxy.

Life has not been so presumptuous as to begin to name collections of galaxies.

Though everything can be measured, inventions allowing faster than light travel have stolen the awe-inspiring capacity of empty space. The distance between an electron and its nucleus is so enormous when looked at it in scale, that well over 99% of all mass is really just empty space. It is only in the center of a black hole, where a teaspoon of matter has the same mass as a good-sized planet that the idea of density, or lack of it, truly sets in.

The scale holds true when looking at planets. The billions of kilometers between planets of the same system seem small to most hyperdrives, but even the fastest pod racer would take well over three millennia to go from a sun to its furthest orbiting planet.

The space between solar systems is magnified that much more. And like the width of a planet is nothingth of a percentage of its orbiting radius, the width of a galaxy is not even comparable to the distance between it and its nearest neighbor. Of course since life has not yet come up with a name for a collection of galaxies, this line of insanity can not be carried out further. Of course, if you ever do want a quick trip to the loony bin, start to think about how far it might be between any given collection of a collection of a collection of galaxies and its nearest neighbor.

Though infinity does not have an outer edge it does have a center. There are an infinite amount of numbers above zero and an infinite amount below zero. The numeric system can also expand upon itself, for there are an infinite amount of values between zero and one, just as there are an infinite amount of values between the square root of negative one and the square root of negative two. Even amongst this chaotic society of infinitesimally small and infinitely large numbers, zero remains the center of it all. The middle number is one that everyone can agree on, yet is the most confusing of all.

Zero has no value, but it remains the anchor around which the world of finance and commerce, withdrawals and deposits rotates. It is the starting point for all toddlers when they learn to count, and it is the number that stands proud on a clock moments before a race starts. The concept is accepted by all, yet how many really understand what zero is? Is it possible to get from point A to B in zero seconds? Assuming time travel exists, it is possible to get between two points in one second or negative one second, but not zero seconds. If you ever did move through a finite amount of space in zero seconds, you would have transcended time and space, achieving infinity.

Speed is calculated by taking distance divided by time. What is one meter divided by zero seconds? Infinity? Does this mean that the only way one can achieve true knowledge of the center of infinity is to transcend its entire existence first?

The universe too has a center. It is a small rock of a planet, surrounded by a harmless blue mist. If ever an object in the universe was needed to explain the meaning of zero - of nothing - this piece of volcanic rock was that object. Even the smallest asteroid in existence has a trajectory, a temperature, several components of velocity and acceleration, and a very measurable point in space. The center of the universe had none of these things. This was where the universe had been born, and all energy and life had been projected out away from it, leaving a nothing behind.

Darth Sidious looked upon this rock and smiled.

All the knowledge of the Force could not explain the concept of infinity, for even life was its subsidiary. Life, in and of itself, was infinite, growing and expanding from nothing, and complete understanding of it one could never even dream of, yet it was simply a part of an infinite collection of ideas and concepts that made up the whole of the universe.

Even so, Sidious understood enough to know that this rock, no bigger than a small moon, was the key to all power. For him to travel from his existence as a nothing in a nowhere to the one spot in an infinite three-dimensional universe that held the coordinates 0,0,0 would bring him more energy than was calculable. Sidious smiled again. There was a calculation. What was one joule divided by zero?

The Zorian was coming and soon Sidious would be able to bridge the gap between the two zeroes into infinity. As the time approached, the scene did not change. The small rock did not spin or shudder in the slightest. The blue mist about it did not change in density or shift. Even the slightest motion of air did not exist. To thus say that nothing was happening would be a grave misunderstanding. The most powerful force in the universe was invisible. The gravity wells around the rock were growing toward tremendous levels.

Imagine a hole dug straight through the center of a planet so it came out the other side. Now drop a ball down that hole. As it fell it would continue to gain velocity as the gravity increased. It would achieve its maximum velocity as it passed the center of the planet, but would then be falling up. The same gravity that had been accelerating the ball would now be pulling against its motion. The ball would almost reach the lip of the other end of the hole and then fall back towards the center of the planet.

Like a swinging pendulum, the ball would oscillate up and down until the wind resistance finally brought it to a quivering stop at the precise center of the planet's mass. There it would hang as if without gravity, yet in reality would be experiencing more g's than any organism could withstand. It would be experiencing a vortex in space. It would occupy a point in space that all other curvatures led to like the center of a stretched trampoline. A trampoline is a two-dimensional example, but this ball would be experiencing the phenomenon in all three dimensions.

The center of the universe was suspended against space not by the weight of a single planet, but by the whole of the cosmos.

Gravity is not a force. All objects are in motion in space. All objects have a mass, and all mass displaces space. These displacements are warpages. Larger masses warp space to a larger degree. The warping makes straight lines in space bend toward the center of these large masses. When an object is in motion relative to a larger mass, its straight line of motion follows the warped lines of space. It is drawn toward the larger object, not by a force, but by acceleration. Force is equal to mass times acceleration, and it is the combination of an object's mass and its acceleration towards a mass' center that realizes the force.

The acceleration around the center of the universe was growing exponentially as the vast array of galaxies orbited into position around it. Darth Sidious could feel the energy mounting, as the vortex became tangible even outside of the physical realm. Again, it was not a time that the Dark Lord was waiting for; it was a how and a what.

The "what" was the Zorian. The "how" was the tricky part.

The vacuum above the center of the universe was far in excess of what Darth Sidious had imagined it would be, and even though he could sense its amazing presence through the Force, he did not feel even the slightest tug in its direction. There remained a door to be opened - a door for him to step through. The door had a lock. Sidious was patient. He knew the key would present itself - would have no choice but to present itself. The key to the door - to the center of the universe - was inherent in the universe's creation.

Creation implied a Creator. A Creator had existed in the beginning. He had been the Prime Mover and had then locked up the creation so it could function upon its complex laws of physics. The lock belonged to a door. It was a door Sidious was waiting to open.

Through the door there were an infinite number of possibilities and realities. There were vast amounts of life too impossible to explain. There were worlds just beginning to accept life. There were worlds made of solid gold and diamond. In an infinite universe, not only was everything possible, but everything actually had to exist.

Darth Sidious cared about none of these other things. He had his focus on one particular galaxy. More specifically, the former leader of the Empire had his entire being focused on one individual: Alexander Snotzenexer.

Unknown to the self made trillionare; Snotzenexer was just a tool. He was a means to an end. His origins had never been made known to him, and those who had known about his genetic background had died long ago. Snotzenexer had come from a cloning cylinder. It was not right to say that he was a clone, for there existed no one else like him, nor had there been a template from which he was created. Snotzenexer had not been conceived; he had been engineered.

Darth Sidious had begun construction of the Dark Ring long ago with many ambitious plans. While many of those plans were completed, none of them ever achieved what their instigator had intended. After the Emperor had banished Thrawn by sending him on a "scouting trip" into the Unknown regions, he realized that with incredible genius came a slew of other problems. Most insanely intelligent people had social problems. Some suffered from a god-complex. In all situations, it was impossible to get a genius to serve willingly under someone whom he felt was his inferior.

Sidious had solved the problem initially by surrounding himself by idiots. That quickly proved less than successful. Though his officers would willingly obey every one of his orders, they were constantly being out-maneuvered and out-thought by a handful of rebels. Darth Sidious needed a genius military officer that he could control.

Unaware to Snotzenexer, his every intention was constantly being guided and prodded by the long dead Emperor. Without such prodding, the brilliant man might have admitted defeat after the battle in the Danzig system, and his further actions as bank president might really have been as innocent as everyone had thought. Instead, Snotzenexer was unwittingly reassembling an empire so that Sidious might have something to which he could return.

That return was growing very imminent. The hazy outlines of the door began to appear now. Its sketchy perimeter was perfectly spherical. Most doors were two-dimensional, having two sides between which their users transported themselves. This door transported its users between realities and was not concerned with the dimensional aspects of the space being crossed.

The key presented itself, as Darth Sidious knew it would. The key was not a physical object, but a way thinking - a way of perceiving one's surroundings. Darth Sidious perceived himself inside the sphere, and there he was.

As the moment approached, the sphere began to contract. Instead of feeling cramped in the rapidly shrinking power well, the formless entity of the Dark Lord of the Sith felt himself grow in power and awareness. The physical realm was almost attainable now. It was just on the opposite side of infinity, barely out of reach.

As the energy growth fluctuated toward its climax, Darth Sidious could not help but feel like a child reaching toward a ceiling light. It was impossible to reach, but the intense curiosity spawned an unnatural desire for possession. The goal kept moving out of reach, but its movements were much slower now. Slowly the pendulum began to loose its momentum, centering on the only true center in the universe.

It stopped.

It was only the briefest of seconds in the physical realm. It was the moment of total eclipse. It was the moment when all of the heavenly bodies passed exactly through their preordained position, sending the final, searing jolt of gravitational acceleration though the center of the space-time continuum and opening the vortex. The vortex was open for a fraction of a nanosecond, but to Sidiuos it seemed like a millennia.

The Sith Lord reached out for the pendulum. His fingers were slowly grasping the perfectly smooth embodiment of centrality when he felt an intruder. Though he had no physical form, he suddenly felt very crowded inside the volumeless sphere. Someone else was reaching for the pendulum.

Darth Sidious did not know if he should push back this intruder or if he should instead try to be the first to grab the desired object. If he fought off this unknown entity, would he loose his one chance of transportation through the doorway? He could not take that chance. With one final explosion of energy he latched out for the spherical pendulum and was sucked into the vortex. He was followed.

Like two people trying to fit through a turn style at once, it was an incredibly tight fit. They were both the last drops of water in a tub, hovering over the drain momentarily before being spun into the spiraling maelstrom of the energy vacuum. The trip was neither pleasant nor short. Unlike the space it traversed, the doorway and adjoining hallway were finite and not built for two people.

They were spun and tossed about, traveling far faster than the inventor of the concept of speed had ever envisioned in his most delusional fits of drunkenness. Also like two people stuck in a turn style, they were both reluctant to give any ground to let the other through first. The horrendously long journey ended precisely zero seconds after it had started, spewing the two souls onto the rock at the center of the universe.

Upon entry into the physical realm, the two travelers' remembered bodies were returned to them. It happened just as it had at the beginning of time - creation out of nothing. Darth Sidious had left the physical realm as a crinkled old man, too weak to walk without a cane. That was not how he remembered himself; therefore, that was not how he was returned to the physical realm.

The Dark Lord landed on his feet, standing well over two meters and robed in thick, flowing black robes. His hair was jet black, and he had pupilless eyes. His skin was as white as a ghost, and his limbs were thin and emaciated. Without his robes, he would look like an odd stick creature, standing tall on the barren rock.

His lack of physical strength was not an accident. His power came from the Force, an idea he never wanted anyone to forget. Now, standing in the exact center of creation, Darth Sidious could feel the power of the entire universe coursing through his body. The feeling was more exhilarating than he had ever hoped. It was a shame he would have to leave this place to take his spot at the head of an empire that was even now being assembled for him. It would be wasteful to let this power base go to waste with out using it first. It was then that he remembered the soul that had tagged along with him at the last second.

Darth Sidious had awakened to his situation so quickly that the pink form of the person who had followed was still rolling on the rocky surface of the planetoid when the Dark Lord first spotted him. Unlike Sidious, the second person that had bridged the gap between death and life had not been prepared for the arrival. His naked body tumbled over the jagged edges of the volcanic planetoid like an uprooted bush in the wind.

When the motion stopped, Jacen Solo lay still and bleeding. He did not feel any broken bones but was sore beyond imagination. His mind was reeling from its trip through the vortex. He had only barely piggybacked onto the Emperor at the last possible moment. Through the guidance of Obi Wan, Yoda, and his grandfather, Jacen had been able to time his leap just right and was now back in the land of the living. But for how long?

Jacen sensed the other presence as soon as he came to his senses. The Emperor stood several dozen meters away, his tall, dark figure very ominous in the eerie blue light of this world. Darth Sidious did not know who Jacen was, but knew without a doubt that he was a Jedi. Only a Force strong soul could have made the journey through the vortex, and only someone trained in the art of seeing things with the Force would have known where to look.

As Darth Sidious looked at Jacen's shivering naked body, all bloody and bruised, he vividly remembered another young man who had cowered before him. As he searched deeper into Jacen's soul, Sidious saw that the similarity between the two situations went deeper than he had thought. The son of Vader had taught this young man, Sidious realized. He had the same weak, idealistic notions that once clouded Skywalker's vision. If Vader had not been there to intervene, Sidious would have surely defeated young Skywalker, and now, the Dark Lord saw no reason why this young soul would put up any more resistance to destruction.

Jacen watched in mesmerized horror as the cloaked figure raised his arms majestically toward the sky. The surroundings had been immensely placid before, but now things began to change. The wind picked up, and the temperature dropped sharply. The blue mist above began to swirl itself into a miserable black. Patches of lightening began to jump to and fro in the sky above, echoing loud claps of thunder onto the rocky surface below.

The young Jedi was frozen with a mixture of cold, fear, and pain. The summoning of power was so intense Jacen was nearly lulled into a comatose state by its over-whelming presence. It was only his fighter's instincts that told him to move moments before a searing bolt of lightening exploded the rock where he had just been.

Jacen was on his feet now, the trance broken and his wits slowly returning to him. He was naked and badly injured. He had no mental stamina for any type of defense or counter strike, but he had just been given a second chance on a life he had thought was lost forever, and despite the odds against him, he was not going to give up.

Darth Sidious frowned at his miss. Skywalker might have trained this student, he thought, but this one was twice the fighter. The son of Vader would have stood still and died with supposed honor when facing the odds this young Jedi faced. Instead, Jacen looked as nimble as a cat as he jumped from one rocky outcropping to the next, never giving the Dark Lord a chance to hit him.

Lightening required pinpoint accuracy to be effective. There were other ways to bring down an opponent. Jacen leaped a four-meter gap, trying to put more distance between him and his foe. Before the Jedi's foot touched the other side of the crease, a surge of wind carried him backwards, tossing him like a rag doll into a jagged wall. A bolt of pain ripped through his left side when he struck the wall and his left leg crumpled as he slid to the ledge below.

The ledge was narrow, with a three-meter drop to the next level spot. Jacen looked up toward his enemy and felt another energy blast coming. His left arm and leg were numb, but Jacen pushed off with his right side and tumbled off the ledge just as the lightening bolt crashed into the perch.

Jacen fell three meters in an uncoordinated heap, severely twisting his left leg as he hit. The pain rolled over him, making him nauseous. He sensed another energy blast coming and tried to move his torn body, but only collapsed onto his left side. The bolt had not been aimed at him, but at his previous perch above. The combination of energy from this second strike and the one before it, shattered the integrity of the small ledge, and the heavy slab crashed down onto Jacen's upturned right side. The young man's right arm snapped like a twig, giving the gruesome appearance of having two elbows.

It was all Jacen could do to keep from passing out. Some insane desire to live kept him struggling against weight of the rock that lay on top of him. Darth Sidious watched in amusement as his torture victim managed to slide the slab off his torso and onto his leg. The motion tore the skin on his broken right arm, revealing the sickly white bone sticking out at a 45-degree angle. The resulting transfer of weight from his upper body to his right leg immediately popped his right knee out of place.

Jacen's left ankle was already swollen from the sprain he had received when he fell, his right arm looked like it belonged in a horror film, his right leg was bent in the wrong direction at the knee, and his naked body was bleeding profusely. Still, Jacen tried to restore feeling in his good left arm to pull himself away from the cloaked figure that seemed to tower over him from 40 meters away.

Darth Sidious laughed. He cackled and crowed at the tormented sky above, reveling in his unrivaled power. Jacen stopped his struggling. The slab had rolled off his leg, and he could feasibly pull himself along with his left arm, but every centimeter he dragged himself across the sharp rock tore dozens of new cuts into his bare skin. Jacen stopped his struggling and listened to the Emperor laugh.

This man was pure evil. There was no chance of mercy and no chance of survival. Vader had had a thread of good left in him that Luke had been able to use, but there was nothing hidden here. The Emperor was unchanged through death. He was still the arrogant, confident master of evil he had been in his former life.

Jacen did not want to die - again. As he watched the Emperor gather energy for one final blast of destruction, Jacen decided he was going to win.

Like the vortex that had opened before, Darth Sidious stood in the center of the universe and began to create a vacuum of power. The sky boiled above him, lightening bolts streaking in a chaotic tribute to their master below. The wind began to swirl itself around the tall figure draped in black, gathering up the lightening into one swirling mass of energy. The wind noise began to grow into an incredible sucking sound centered on the spot in the sky directly above the Dark Lord. The wind noise reached its tremendous climax, and then there was a sudden silence. The silence lasted for a fraction of a second, and then the energy was released.

Jacen beat Sidious to the punch. Just like before, the Dark Lord of the Sith did all the work, gathering up more power than any living soul should have the right to control, and Jacen snuck in and set it off prematurely. A lightening bolt with enough intensity to light an entire city fell from the sky, consuming Darth Sidious in an explosion that tore a crater in the ground 50 meters wide.

The former emperor had marveled in his own power a bit too much, under-estimating the skill of his opponent when it came to controlling weather. Sidious had gathered the energy in a tight ball and held it above him for a tantalizing second before hurling it at his foe. Jacen had used that second to cut a small hole in the bottom of the ball, bringing the energy crashing down on the Dark Lord's head.

Jacen sat up slowly, gingerly using the Force to pop his right knee back into place. With the threat against him defeated, Jacen took the time to feel the power around him. Unlike his Dark counter part, when Jacen filled himself with the energy of his surroundings, the skies began to clear and the temperature began to climb. The blue mist returned, lit up by thousands of bright stars behind it.

Jacen could feel the swelling go down in his left ankle as the torn ligaments began to mend themselves. Without so much as flinching, Jacen set his right arm, and the healing process began. The tired young man lay down on the rocky ground, which suddenly did not seem so harsh to his soft skin. Jacen put himself into a deep trance with visions of his sister popping into his mind as he closed his eyes.

* * *

Alexander Snotzenexer sat bolt upright in bed. His wife, Jill Sanson, stirred from sleep at the sudden movement from her husband. Snotzenexer's breaths were coming in short gasps, sweat rolling off his forehead like a waterfall. His heart felt like it was going leap out of his chest and do a little dance at the foot of the bed. The mind of the great thinker was severely scrambled as he tried to sort through the images he had just seen, none of which he could remember.

Sanson watched the odd behavior from her normally placid husband, but felt the question "What's wrong?" too stupid to ask. "Honey," she said slowly, "it was just a dream."

Snotzenexer was not so sure it had been, but the voice of his wife calmed him somewhat. His breathing slowed, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, counting his pulse as it too slowly returned to normal.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sanson asked.

"I can not remember it in the slightest," Snotzenexer replied.

"It scared you worse than I've ever seen anyone scared before." That was saying a lot, for Sanson had thrown her fair share of officers out of airlocks in her tenure as an Imperial Captain, and now Admiral. The look on a man's face as the timer reached zero and the airlock doors opened behind him, was enough to keep any kid up at night for weeks.

The couple was silent for the next hour, lying and staring at the ceiling, both too disturbed to sleep. Snotzenexer finally broke the silence.

"What are we doing this for?"

"What are we doing what for?" Sanson asked for clarification.

"This," Snotzenexer said, waiving his arms about the room as he lay on his back, "everything. Why did we gain control of the entire universe?"

Sanson was silent. To her, an Imperial military commander through and through, the answer seemed obvious. They had been at war with the Republic for the past three decades. In war, you fight the other side until you lost or won. They had won. Still, she knew her husband did not ask stupid questions just to hear the sound of his voice.

"What will we gain by turning the galaxy back into a dictatorship? We have all the power, money, and respect we could ever hope for right now. If we changed the system back to the way Palpatine ran it, we might keep our money and power, but we would loose the respect. With respect comes comfort."

Sanson rubbed her slightly swollen stomach. She knew her husband was right, when the public no longer respected you, rebel factions were created everywhere, making every waking moment a struggle to survive.

"We're about to become parents. We've served the Empire for over half our lives. We have together achieved more than the greatest military and political leaders in history. Do not you think it's time to just stop?"

"You want to stop where you are and continue to be the President of the Republic as opposed to the Emperor of the New Imperial Realm?"

"That does have a nice ring to it," Snotzenexer admitted, turning from his back to look at his wife. "And I still have all confidence that we could achieve it, it's just I don't think it will be worth it. Eight months from now we will exist in a state of constant war and chaos. Right now we are living in the lap of luxury, and I don't see the need to change anymore."

Sanson really could not argue with the logic. She still had dreams of being the strongest military leader in history, controlling a fleet capable of crushing anything in sight, but Snotzenexer's concerns had their own value too. She would be a mother in about six more months and she was not sure yet how she would feel about that. Eight months from now she might not want to spend every waking hour at war.

The decision to put the brakes on had to be made now. If they continued down their preplanned course for much longer, they would not have the ability to turn back. "Can we stop now?"

Snotzenexer was wondering the same thing. They had left a trail when they had risen to power. It was a trail that would not be easy to follow, and very hard to prove, but it was there. Snotzenexer had figured that by the time the few remnants of the old ruling body had dug up enough evidence to convict him of the crimes of which he was guilty, it would be too late. If they decided to stop now, though, he would be very vulnerable if those charges were made public.

"We won't stop entirely," Snotzenexer said. "There are many loose strings that need to be tied."

Sanson knew that he was talking about the Solos and their friends. "What about the military?"

Right now, Sanson was the highest-ranking officer in the Republic Navy, but she was not running it like an Admiral. There were several Republic captains who commanded with her. It was a system of checks and balances to make sure no one would ever achieve a dictatorship.

"We will need to continue with our plans regarding the military. If something should arise, we will need a safety net to fall into. Yes, continue your takeover, though do not go any further than gaining complete control. Once you have it, do not rearrange it like we had planned."

"Some of the men will not be happy. They talk of you as if you were a god. They can't wait until they are members of the Imperial Navy again."

"I'm worth several trillion," Snotzenexer replied. "If we need to, we can give the disgruntled officers $100 million and shove them off to a backwards world where they can be their own dictator. Those who do not want the money, throw out of an airlock."

"Is all this from the dream," Sanson asked after several minutes of silence.

"I think so," Snotzenexer replied slowly. "I don't know what I saw, but whatever had been pushing me to recreate the Empire died. Maybe I had a flash vision of what the future might be if I continued. I'm not really sure."

Sanson grinned. "You better not be telling me that you're attaining a Force sensibility."

Snotzenexer chuckled a little to himself. He rolled over and cuddled his wife. "Trust me dear, never that. I'd sooner have the our child be a girl than for me to become Force sensitive."

"Oh," Sanson started sarcastically, "I'm so moved."

The two continued small talk, eventually drifting off into a very peaceful sleep.

* * *

Jaina sat back from the Scavenger's controls as the ship was now hurtling through hyperspace. The nav com had not accepted - could not accept - the coordinates she needed to enter. Her destination was far outside of explored space. At normal hyperspace speed, she would reach her destination in a little over ten thousand years. As it was, it would take her over three months in hyperspace, and Jaina feared something might go terribly wrong.

Anakin had helped Jaina check out the entire ship in a more thorough inspection than they had done when they had first tested the homemade ship. Both of the two helpers had wanted to come with her, but Jaina had denied their requests without relenting. This was a mission for her to complete.

She had woken up in incredible shock two days ago. Before that she had been in a very unusual coma for over a month. She had seen her brother die, cut in half by Eran, a young man the twins had been chasing for suspected arson. After talking with her father, Jaina realized that the young man was probably guilty of everything Jacen had accused him of, but Han had also said that the arsonist had tried to help. He had brought Jaina's body back and had expressed concern about Snotzenexer's rise to power and that he wanted to fight against it.

Any guilt for Jacen's death fell directly on Jacen's own head, despite the fact that Eran had been the one swinging the lightsaber. Jacen was the one who had initiated the battle, forcing fate to pick someone to die. From what Han had said, Eran too was dead, killed by Trince Allister, an enraged Jedi who had then gone after Snotzenexer and met his end.

Jaina felt a little twinge of regret at the news of Eran's death, hoping against hope that the young man might have survived his flight off the building, but he was most likely dead. Jaina remembered their first meeting. Eran was a good man. He had been caught up in something he did not understand and been hired for a job without being given all the information.

All that was behind her now. Jaina had woken two days ago with one realization. Jacen was alive. The Zorian, a word Jaina had never heard of before, had come and with it Jacen had returned to the physical plane. Mara had woken too, declaring that the Emperor had returned also. This revelation lasted briefly. Mara was shocked again moments later with the sudden disappearance of her former master. Jaina feared that Jacen had also left, but his presence remained in the back of her mind, just in reach.

Neither Jaina nor Mara could understand what had happened. Apparently, the Zorian brought Jedi back from the dead. Why Palpatine and Jacen had been chosen, or why they had managed to bridge the gap, neither could tell. As for Palpatine's sudden disappearance, the two women could only hope that Jacen had won the ensuing battle, no matter how ridiculous that sounded.

Now Jaina was preparing to go back into a coma. This time she would not be rejecting the fact that her brother was gone, but trying desperately to accept that he was back. Jacen had spoken through her dreams saying he could set up a tether to bring the Scavenger toward him much faster than the hyperdrive was capable. The acceleration of her ship would be exponential, growing greater as she neared her brother. For some reason, Jacen claimed to have all the power in the universe at his disposal and felt very confident in his ability to bridge the vast gap between them.

Jacen had just risen from the dead in a very dramatic fashion and Jaina did not feel like arguing with him. She lay down in her cot on the Scavenger and slowly dropped her consciousness into a deep trance, focused on her brother's beacon in the back of her mind. She suddenly fell into a complete trance of utter calm and peace, feeling, and literally being, drawn to her brother's location so very distant from her own.

Outside, the stars began to change from streaks to lines and then to nothing at all as the Scavenger achieved speeds that surpassed even the concept of light.

Three months later . . .

Jaina moved the Scavenger toward the blue mist carefully. Jacen was in her head telling her that there was nothing to worry about, but Jaina could feel a very unusual sensation emanating from the rocky moon below. Jacen had not tried to explain to his sister what this place was, and even after spending three long months in the center of the universe, Jacen was not so sure he really knew what it was either.

Jaina brought the ship down through the mist, waiting for a sign that she was entering some kind of atmosphere. Her sensors were less than helpful, though, reading that outside her ship was nothing. It did not say there was a vacuum, but it did not say there was air either. There was no temperature reading and no type of wind at all. Jaina could not pick up any type of moisture and could sense no type of life save for her brother.

Jaina set the ship down gently on a flat spot on the rock and felt the ship relax onto its pillons. Apparently there was gravity. She hesitated before opening the hatch to the outside. What if Jacen was still encapsulated in some rejuvenating Force bubble and did not know that there was no air around him. Jaina shook her fears aside. Her brother sounded very confident that all was safe and Jaina trusted him.

She opened the hatch and tensed as she expected a gust of air to either enter or exit her ship. Neither happened. Jaina walked very slowly down the ramp to the surface of the very alien planet. The blue mist above gave a very unnatural look to the place. Unlike most rocky landscapes, there was no loose gravel to be seen. The planet was one big rock. There were towering spires and deep crevices covering the hostile landscape. Jaina finally saw Jacen and her jaw dropped.

Jacen was naked, and his body was a work of art. The fact he was her brother saved her from sexual fantasies, but she still could not help but stare. His body was sculpted as if a master craftsman had spent a lifetime to create the most perfect form imaginable. Muscles rippled around every joint as he walked, yet he was not grotesquely huge. Still, she could imagine that very few Gamorians could out wrestle the man walking toward her. His skin was perfectly tan, as if that were his natural color. His brown hair hung as neat as possible, which was a thousand times better than Jaina had ever seen it before. His eyes were clear and pure, and his face chiseled from stone, with no hint of a beard or any imperfection.

Jacen had always been a great warrior, but as he walked calmly toward his sister with no hint of embarrassment, he seemed more alert and alive than she had ever seen him. He seemed ready to break out into a dance, yet at the same time, ready to repel any attack from any direction with the greatest of ease. Jaina could feel a clarity of mind that was so pure and focused she had a hard time believing this was her brother.

Jacen neared, and suddenly Jaina felt very uncomfortable. She hesitated as he walked up to her and was very reluctant as he grabbed her in a strong hug. She was again amazed at his strength and sculpted form. Jacen noticed her discomfort for the first time and broke the hug.

"Thank-you for coming," Jacen said, his voice sounding as clear as a bell.

"Of course I came for you," Jaina said as if she had no other choice. "As you would have come for me if the distance had been twice as far."

The two stood looking at each other for a while, Jaina glad that at the close distance, she was able to keep her eyes above Jacen's shoulders. "No use hanging around here," Jaina said finally, though she wished she could find out more about this place. There would be time for questions later. "Let's go inside."

Jaina turned around and walked back up the ramp into the ship. She made her way quickly to the cockpit and began to prepare for take-off. Jacen joined her after having first made a stop at his personal quarters, throwing on a shirt and a pair of pants.

"Will the trip back be just as long?" Jaina asked.

"Longer," Jacen responded. "I will be able to use this place as an energy well, but as we grow distant from it, my ability to tap into its resources will grow weaker. Still, it should take us no longer than four months to get back, and maybe not that long."

"What is this place?" Jaina asked as the Scavenger broke away from the center of the universe and moved onto a trajectory with home.

"That is an interesting question," Jacen responded, trying to figure out if he knew the answer.

The Scavenger leaped into hyperspace and the two twins talked for over two days before settling into comfortable trances for the remainder of the trip home.

Three months later . . .

Chapter 1 "If You Can't Beat 'Em . . ."

President Snotzenexer paced uneasily in the small room. "It should be over by now. What's taking so long?"

"Sir, please," the woman said trying to calm him, though she had been unsuccessful in every attempt thus far. "Nothing unusual is happening. It's not unheard of for it to take twice this long. I assure you that nothing is wrong and we have our best people working on it."

"I should be there, then," Snotzenexer tried to reason with the woman.

"We've tried that too. You just weren't helping at all. We've done this a thousand times. Just trust us."

"I can't trust what I don't control!" Snotzenexer screamed. He quickly realized what he had just said, and calmed somewhat. "I mean," he said more quietly, taking a seat, "I have to see what's going on. I need to have all the information."

"I understand, sir. Your record thus far confirms that you always have the answers, but you're just going to have to let us handle this one."

"What about Jill, my wife? What does she think?"

"She agrees with us one-hundred percent. Do not you remember what she said?"

"'They can handle it.' Yes I remember, but maybe she's changed her mind. If I went to go talk to her maybe I could-"

The woman felt like she was dealing with a 4-year-old instead of the most powerful man in the universe. "Sir, just relax. It'll be over any second now."

Right then the double doors into the small room slid open and a man in a white coat walked up to Snotzenexer. The President of the Republic sprang to his feet in eager expectation. "Congratulations, President. It's over and everything went smoothly."

The look in Snotzenexer's eyes was like that of a kid eyeing up a pile of presents at his own birthday party. "You are the proud father of a handsome, baby boy."

Snotzenexer could not take it any longer. "You may go in and see your-" but Snotzenexer was already past the doctor. He ran down the short hallway past the double doors, made a sharp left, and followed the baby cries down to the end of the next hallway. The new father burst through the doors so fast he nearly sent one of the nurses flying.

Jill Sanson did not seem surprised at her husband's abrupt arrival at all. "There he is," she said in a very childish voice, holding the baby up so he could see his father. "There's daddy. Don't be scared. He's not nearly as strange as he looks. One day you're going to grow up to be just like him. I will be so proud of you, my little wubby dubby."

Sanson's odd behavior scared Snotzenexer back to reality. He suddenly realized how peculiar he had been acting. He turned to the nurse he had nearly killed on his arrival. "I'm sorry. I am just a little excited, is all. Thank-you very much for taking care of," he gestured to the baby and his wife in the bed, "this. I'm sorry I could not have been more helpful."

Despite his wish to not act strange, Snotzenexer's words nearly made the nurses in the room laugh. "You did just fine, sir. You had the hardest job of all of us. You had to wait while your son was being born."

The doctor walked in behind the president holding his data board. "Have you picked a name yet?"

Snotzenexer looked at his wife who was still talking in a child's language with their new son. They had decided he could name the boys and she would name the girls. It was odd, Snotzenexer routinely made split second decisions involving billions of credits or thousands of lives, but here was a rather easy task and he had thought of it for the past four months with little head way. "His name is," Snotzenexer mentally flipped a coin, "David Alexander Snotzenexer."

* * *

"You've got to be kidding."

Han sighed. He figured this was not going to be as easy as he would have liked.

"You're Han Solo, right?"

Han nodded mutely.

"You're here to pick up this shipment for Welfan 6, right?"

Again Han nodded.

"Is this some kind of joke?"

Han wished it was. It had been a very slow six months. Snotzenexer had an unyielding hold on the galaxy's proceedings, and despite Mara, Han, and Thomas' examinations, there seemed to be nothing they could do about it from the outside. This meant they needed to be on the inside. The old phrase rang true: "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

"I'm sorry, sir, but this is not a joke. I am a pilot in the Trade Federation, and I'm here to pick up the shipment of lateral stabilizers for Welfan 6."

The depot chief shook his head and muttered under his breath just loud enough for Han to hear. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

Han wanted to let the comment pass, but Mara and Thomas insisted that he try to be as disgruntled as possible. "Hey, I have a family to support and I need money just like the rest of the population of this forsaken galaxy. It just so happens that my financial future was tied directly to that of the Republic. So maybe we can just cut the wise cracks and start filling out this datapadwork."

The chief suppressed his mirth as much as he could. Like most of the rest of the galaxy, he was beginning to see that the former heads of the government had been ill equipped for the job and had tried to hold everything together using the same tactics they had used to keep the rebellion of 30 years ago together. A government was a much more complex thing than an organized resistance, and Snotzenexer was a far better leader.

"I'd be glad to get things started . . . Han." Han could tell the man took great pleasure in addressing him by his first name. A year ago, this lowly depot chief would not have dared address Han by anything other than General Solo, despite his retired status. "But I need a few signatures from your TFR. Things are a little different now. We're more organized."

This guy couldn't help but rub it in, Han thought. "I'm supposed to meet him here. This is my first scheduled pick-up, and I did not have a chance to rendez-vous with the Trade Federation Representative yet."

"It says here his name is Delan Foolery," the chief said, looking down at his data board.

"That's Delan Fowlry," a female voice corrected the pronunciation, "and you got the pronoun wrong also."

Both men turned suddenly and saw a highly attractive female walking toward them from behind a stack of crates. She stood half a head shorter than Han, wearing the official attire of the Trade Federation. The outfit consisted of a gray military vest over a long-sleeved, colored, knit shirt - in this case, navy blue - and gray military pants that matched the vest, both of which were ordained with the Trade Federation logo. The logo was a "T" intersected halfway up the "F," each letter a different color - again the "T" was navy blue, while the "F" was black.

Han had seen the uniform before, often with several other color combinations, but he had never thought it very flattering until he saw it on Delan. The knit shirt under the vest was stretched to its limit over her bust line, while the normally loose fitting pants followed her legs perfectly has she flexed them through her gate. Her long brown hair bounced lightly on her shoulders, shrouding a round face set by two sparkling brown eyes.

It was with all his willpower that Han returned his gaze to the chief. The other man had not yet obtained such willpower. He had planned to use an assortment of further insults to degrade Han's new position but decided against it, suddenly feeling jealous of the former general's station.

"I think we can stop the adolescent drooling and get on with business, don't you agree, Chief Brony?"

It was Han's turn for a chuckle, but the look Delan immediately leveled at him told Han she though him just as guilty. "Uh, right," Brony muttered through his red face. "I just need both of your signatures on this pick-up form, declaring that you both willingly take this cargo into your possession and are now fully responsible for it until delivery. And Ms. Fowlry, I need your signature on this form approving the purchase price of the shipment."

"It's Miss, by the way," she said, as she sauntered over to the chief. She took the scribe in her hand and began to sign her name. Before she even made a mark, she paused dramatically.

"It's all in order," Brony said quickly, mistaking her pause for an examination of the document on which she was about to put her name and Trade Federation approval. "You can read it if you like, but I've worked with the Trade Federation before, and I can assure you I know the proper proceedings."

Delan made a slight facial twitch that seemed excruciatingly familiar to Han and nodded her head. "Yes, it appears in order. Like Solo, here, this is my first assignment, and I just want to make sure." With more confidence now, Delan scribed her name on each of the documents and handed them back to Brony.

The representative turned away from the two men. "I assume this is our cargo," she gestured to a dozen two-ton crates."

"Yes, that's it," Brony said quickly, rushing over to the cargo. "As you can see the stabilizers are packaged four to a crate and are reinforced with Federation approved fo-"

"I hope not all of your loader operators are on break. We are scheduled to leave within the hour. I do not want to be delayed." With that, Delan turned her heel and walked out of the cargo shed toward the loading platform where the Millennium Falcon sat with Chewie on guard.

"It looks like you've got your hands full, General," Brony said quietly when it looked like Delan was out of range.

The fiery rep turned around sharply. "Not half as full as yours will be if you do not get THAT cargo on THAT ship in under fifteen minutes."

Brony nearly bit is own tongue off, as he nodded furiously and hurried to find one of his lazy dock boys. Han watched the chief go and then made his way over to the stationary rep. "Luke?" Han asked, gazing at Delan's figure. "Is that you?" Han sincerely hoped he was wrong.

"Am I over-doing it?" Delan responded, her voice suddenly lower and sounding very much like the Jedi Master's.

Han blew a sigh of relief. "When you called and told me you succeeded in becoming my rep and were going to show up incognito, this is not exactly what I was expecting."

"So you think I AM over-doing it?"

"The act - no." Han looked over his shoulder and saw the chief talking hurriedly to a young loader operator in the far corner of the cargo shed. "The act is great. But the look . . . well . . . it's very . . . well it's . . . you know . . . it's hard to remember that you're my brother-in-law."

Luke grinned with his female face. "Do I remind you of anyone?" Luke struck a pose.

Han wanted very desperately to not look at him, but something about Luke's appearance suddenly struck him. "Yes," he said slowly, "you do."

"Leia?" Luke asked.

Han nodded.

"Good, then it's working."

"You look like Leia only you're more," Han held his hands in front of his own chest, slightly cupped, "and," Han's hands were at a loss as to how he could illustrate Luke's fake figure using his own body, "younger," he finally settled with.

Luke laughed at his friend's uncomfortable situation. "I picked an attractive persona, but there is something subtly different about everyone that makes them ten times more attractive to a certain member of the opposite sex. Whether it's the specific location of a freckle, or just the shape of their ears, there is something that makes humans single out one person in their hunt for the most attractive partner. Since I'm fooling around with everyone's mind to project this image anyway, I just went one step further to find that one attribute which will make me that much more irresistible."

"Hence you look a little like everyone's dream woman. Which explains why you slightly resemble Leia to me."

"Something like that."

"Are you trying to tell me that you want men to find you irresistible?"

"I want people think of me as feminine as possible to decrease the chance that anyone will ever guess who I really am."

"This trick of yours, does it mean the chief and I are seeing two entirely different women when we look at you?"

"No, the difference is so subtle that even the best sketch artist wouldn't be able to pick it out if you both were to try and describe me later. It's just a little extra edge."

"When you paused before signing your name," Han started to ask a question, but Luke picked up on it.

"Yeah, I almost signed 'Luke Skywalker.' I just need to be more careful."

Han heard the noise of a loader from behind him and he and Luke moved out of the way as the driver nearly ran them over on his way to the Falcon. Han and Luke walked quickly after the loader, wanting to completely traverse the narrow, elevated walkway between the cargo shed and the landing pad before the loader made its return trip.

The driver allowed the two men to place themselves out of his way before making a mad dash back to the shed for the next crate. Chewie walked up to Han and Luke, suspiciously eyeing Han's young, female friend. He barked curiously at Han.

"Yes, Chewie, this is Luke." Some more barking. "I don't care if you don't believe it, it's true."

"It's me, Chewie," Luke said in his normal voice. The Wookiee's ears picked up at the familiar sound, but he shook his head and made a final statement that he'd believe it when he saw Luke drop the disguise. "Not until we're safely inside the ship, Chewie."

Chewie bowed partway and gestured with his arm toward the Falcon's ramp. "Okay, we can go inside."

From a distance, Chief Brony saw the Wookiee's gesture and laughed to himself. "She's already gotten onto the sarcastic side of Chewbacca." The strength and prowess of the famous general's copilot was legendary. "She'll be short a pair of arms before they get to Welfan 6."

Inside the Falcon, Luke had dropped his disguise and was lounging in one of Han's chairs. "So how did you manage to convince old Snoty to make you my rep?" Han asked, taking a seat across from Luke, both of them waiting for the signal so they could take off.

"I never had to speak to him, and I'm glad. He's got a Twi'lek named Cog Fardin running the Trade Federation - at least on the outside. Snotzenexer can only control so much by himself. Pretty soon, as everything gets too big, he'll have to turn it over to someone else. That is to our advantage. Anyway, in my meeting with Cog Fardin, I was very convincing that I should be assigned to you. Jedi Masters have a way of being rather persuasive."

Han laughed, "I bet they do."

A few more minutes passed and they were given the word by the air control that they were loaded and ready to go. "And so starts my life as a Federation Trader," Han said melodramatically as he raised the Falcon gently off the landing pad.

After they were out of the atmosphere and into hyperspace, Han turned to look at Luke. "I noticed you did not bring any luggage with you."

"I never carry any anywhere else I go."

"Yes, but you are normally not masquerading as a woman. I've never known a woman that did not have at least two suitcases packed with clothes and accessories."

"What do I need clothes for?" Luke asked. To support his claim, Han watched as the color of Luke's clothes cycled through a variety of different color combinations.

Han closed his eyes tight and shook his head. "Don't do that!" Han calmed as Luke returned his attire to reality. "You still need to pretend for everyone else. Besides, I refuse to fly with you if you never plan on changing clothes."

"How do you know that I'm wearing any clothes at all?"

Chewie made a sudden bark of disapproval. "Ditto, buddy. I hate Jedi too."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Yes."

"Yes, is this Borrel Curtis?"

Borrel sat back in his chair away from the com unit. "Yes, this is Borrel Curtis," he said loud enough for the speaker to pick up his voice.

"Borrel Curtis the director?"

"Yes," Borrel said, growing tired of this game, "Borrel Curtis the director. What can I do for you?"

"This is Cayron Moall."

Borrel knew the name. Cayron was the top producer employed by the TBC, Torenick Broadcasting Company, and the company he presently worked for. Cayron Moall had hated PEN, Porylen Entertainment Network, and Borrel's former company. Cayron and been ecstatic when a terrorist explosion had destroyed the main headquarters of PEN, wiping out all of the company's top officials and removing the network from existence. Without the competition, TBC had become the sole source for decent holo-programming in the entire sector, a sector that contained the Varion system.

Cayron had been less than enthusiastic when Borrel had come to work for his company. Borrel had been one of the head production managers at PEN, but now that he was just a two-credit producer for TBC, any animosity Cayron might have had for Borrel disappeared when he got to see his former competitor take a humbling job at about one quarter his former salary.

"Hi Cayron, what can I do for you today?" Borrel was taking a long weekend off. He was just wrapping up a movie and the editing sessions were torture. He'd already had to reshoot two scenes he thought he had finished. The props for the two scenes had been destroyed in later scenes, and new ones had to be made. This not only increased his costs, but the replacement props did not match the originals, and his holo editors were having a terrible time rectifying the problem.

"I am working on the Documentary and was wondering if you could help me."

The Snotzenexer Documentary. Of course Borrel had heard of it. It's all TBC was talking about. Borrel had had the most difficult time trying to get any additional money to finish his picture because all the funds were going into the Documentary. No one even bothered calling it the Snotzenexer Documentary anymore. It was just THE Documentary. They had even asked him if he would co-direct it. He had turned them down.

Borrel hated Snotzenexer. He could not stand anyone who profited off his loss. Snotzenexer had cashed in on PEN, selling all his stock in the company literally hours before the terrorist attack occurred. Then there had been the two Jedi instances about a month apart. Two separate times Jedi attacked the Republic President. Borrel idolized the Jedi. His movie was the fourth in the Jedi Chronicles, "Blade of Destiny." If the Jedi did not like Snotzenexer, then neither did Borrel.

"What do you want me to do? I'm busy with my own project."

"Ah, 'Blades of Destitution,' isn't it?"

"'Destiny,'" Borrel corrected. "Yes, and I'm very busy. I don't think I have any time for the Documentary."

"I wasn't going to ask you for time. I was actually looking for some footage. I understand that you got some excellent asteroid footage for a scene in your movie. I was wondering if you couldn't give me about two or three minutes that you don't plan to use."

Borrel was very proud of the footage they had gotten and would hit himself in the face with a rusty pole before he gave it to Cayron. He was about to say as much when he realized whom he was talking to. Cayron was no longer a competitor, and while he was not directly over Borrel, he was definitely above him. If Borrel did not give him the footage, Cayron would easily get it from someone else on the project, only then it would be far more work for both of them.

The footage in question was taken with a probe. Ten probes had originally been used, only one had survived. The probes had been sent into the Varion asteroid field under remote control and then accelerated through the asteroids. A very skilled controller was used for the probes, but it took him ten tries before he was able to safely navigate the probe through the rocks for long enough to get the footage they needed.

The scene involved the daring Jedi pilot diving into the asteroid field to escape his pursuers. The probe gave very good first person footage. Several times asteroids twirled out of the way just in time, and on a three-dimensional holo-screen, it was very breath taking.

All previous directors who had tried to get similar footage had used props or digitized asteroids, but they did not look as real as what Borrel had captured. Another method had been to place a camera in a stationary position and let the asteroids float past it. Then after the footage was taken, you could speed it up, giving the illusion of fast travel through the field. The only way to speed up the footage was to remove half or three fourths of the frames, giving the final scene a very choppy look.

"What do you need the asteroid footage for?" Borrel asked.

"For the Documentary," Cayron responded obviously. When Borrel did not honor the statement with a response, Cayron continued. "We're covering the tragedy in the Denorid system, and we want some really dramatic footage. Do you know the odds of that accident ever happening again? I mean it's like ten trillion to one. It's almost as if someone aimed those asteroids at the planets. It's just amazing."

Borrel looked at his chrono. He had just eaten and had about four hours before his next scheduled event. "Do you have some time now?"

"Yeah, I got a couple hours."

"I'll meet you at recording studio eight in half an hour, okay," Borrel said. Might as well get this over with now.

Twenty-five minutes later both men were sitting in front of a holo-viewer with a stack of film cards beside them. "We got bits and pieces of footage from all ten probes that we sent in, but for the film we needed footage both entering the asteroid field and exiting the field. Almost all of our footage came from the tenth probe. You might think that we could cut from one probe to the other in between shots and no one would notice, but the viewer finds the scene more believable when a rock in the distance in one shot, reappears in the next shot.

"This means that we have a whole bunch of footage from the other nine probes before they exploded. The longest continuous shot we got out of them was two minutes and seventeen seconds."

"Let's see it," Cayron said. "We're looking for about five minutes total, but we can break away from the shot several times to show the damage on the planets."

Borrel sighed. Over the com he had asked for about two or three minutes of film. Now he wanted five. The experienced director had no doubt that Cayron would likely walk away from this session with close to ten minutes. Borrel popped the film card into the viewer and moments later the pair was flying through the Varion asteroid field.

Cayron was so enthralled with the images that he actually started to dodge the rocks as they came hurtling toward him. The producer had forgotten to watch the timer and literally jumped out of his seat when the two minutes, seventeen seconds were up. An unseen asteroid spun into view out of nowhere and ended the video.

"That was amazing," Cayron said, slightly breathless.

Despite his immense dislike of the man, Borrel could not help but be pleased with his reaction. "That was nothing. The footage we have for the actual film is twice that long."

"No," Cayron tried to clarify, "I mean the end. It was so sudden, so dramatic."

"Yeah, we used a lot of the better endings for the unfortunate pilots who chased our character into the field."

"They would be great for scene changes in the documentary. Get the audience to jump out of their seat, then immediately hit them with scenes of destruction from the planet while they're vulnerable. As soon as they've seen enough, plunge 'em back into the asteroids. After another sudden ending, hit 'em with even more disturbing images of the destruction.

"By the end of the scene, they'll be so mad at the injustice of the galaxy that they'll be ready to hop on the nearest transport to the Denorid system to help in the effort themselves. That's when we tell them what the president is doing to help save millions. This will be great."

"Glad I could help," Borrel said sarcastically, though the tone of voice was lost on Cayron.

"Let me see more."

"Here's our next longest clip," Borrel said as he put the card in. The action on this clip was so fast that Cayron asked Borrel to slow it down. While Cayron was focusing on the action right in front of the probe, Borrel's gaze started to wander to the outer limits of the probe's view.

Borrel had seen this particular filmcard several times. They had used it extensively for one of the enemy fighters. Off in the corner of the image Borrel began to watch the distant spinning asteroids. One rock in particular caught his attention. It was not spinning like the rest of the asteroids. It had a very distinctive lump on one side that never rotated out of view. It almost looked like the asteroid was being controlled by some sort of tractor beam.

As soon as that idea crossed his mind, the asteroid disappeared. "What?!" Cayron was so mesmerized by the action of the asteroids that he nearly fell out of his seat at the outburst. "Rewind that." Borrel was the one controlling the holo-player so the statement was unnecessary. He rolled the image back several dozen frames and watched again in supper slow motion as the rock disappeared.

It was not like what you would see when a rock slipped behind a nebula, instead, there was a very sharp edge that moved across the rock as it disappeared. Besides, there was no nebula to speak of. Watching the disappearing act one more time, Borrel was convinced the asteroid was disappearing behind something unnatural or man made.

"What are you doing?" Cayron finally asked. "I do not have time for this. I need footage of fast moving asteroids flying at the camera, not disappearing ones off in the distance. If you want to examine them, do it on your own time."

This IS my time, Borrel thought, but kept his mouth shut. He was going to look at this footage again.

Two hours later, Borrel was by himself and had gone through the rest of his footage, finding two other instances of asteroid disappearances. An idea was slowly forming in his head, but it was so preposterous, so absolutely hideous, that he did not want to believe it possible. The only problem was that the line of questions only led in one direction.

Borrel was thoroughly convinced that the asteroids were disappearing behind something man made. There was only one thing that fit the description: a cloaked ship.

Borrel had not been the director of the film at the time the footage was taken. He had been off somewhere overseeing the shooting of a documentary about a famine in a neighboring system. Regardless of the fact he had not been part of the filming, he knew the time period well. It was right around the time when the terrorist attack had happened. The time after the terrorist attack was mostly filled with news of Snotzenexer's rise to power, but mixed in, was TBC's purchase of all PEN's "works in progress." One of those works was "Blade of Destiny." Borrel had swallowed his pride and taken the job as director since the former director had died in the terrorist attack.

Borrel knew that time frame well and could only think of one thing that could be hiding in the asteroid field: Admiral Sanson's fleet. It was common knowledge that the Imperials had the ability to cloak large vessels, it just had not been made known that Sanson's defected fleet had that capability.

None of this was shocking; in fact, none of it was even news. Sanson had already told the galaxy that she had been hiding in the asteroid field for some time, scared to come out. The problem here was that the asteroids were disappearing and not reappearing. A cloaked vessel was designed to be transparent. All space debris should remain visible even if it passes behind a cloaked vessel. It is possible for an asteroid to venture too close to a cloaked vessel and fall into the cloaking shield. After all, a cloaking shield was spherical while a Star Destroyer was triangular. There was an awful lot of free space in which an asteroid could disappear. If this were the case, the asteroids should disappear for a short while, and then reappear after they had passed through the cloaking shield. This was not happening.

This Star Destroyer, no matter how ludicrous it sounded, was collecting asteroids. The next question was "Why?" Borrel figured he could call up the Republic military and ask them. Admiral Sanson was now the head of the military, and she had been very open about her past so far. The media had drilled her time and time again about her past, and she had always responded with answers. Borrel did not think he would get a straight answer to this question.

Under normal circumstances, Borrel would think that the idea of a Star Destroyer collecting asteroids was so absurd that he must be mistaken. Not now. Not so soon after hearing Cayron Moall say the words "It's almost as if someone aimed those asteroids at the planets."

No matter how obscene the idea was, Borrel could not get the possibility out of his mind. It would take an enormous ship to hold all the asteroids that were responsible for the destruction in the Denorid system. Admiral Sanson had a Super Star Destroyer at her disposal.

The biggest thing keeping Borrel from doing anything about this was his hatred for Snotzenexer. On the outset, it looked like that should be his prime motivator, but Borrel was neither foolish nor rash. He knew his bias against the Republic President might be clouding his judgment to such an extent that he was jumping to conclusions. It was almost as if his subconscious wanted Snotzenexer to be guilty of mass murder.

It was not like there was no motive for the act. The Denorid disaster had cost former President Organa-Solo her position. A position that was quickly usurped by Snotzenexer. Granted Snotzenexer was the chosen replacement because of his financial prowess at a time of economic chaos. The chaos had started because of another natural disaster that Snotzenexer could not have possibly had a hand in. Or could he?

If Borrel was going to assume that Snotzenexer had already killed billions, what's another couple thousand? This would mean that he would have had to know what kind of situation the Republic had been in financially. That was too much to assume, as even the heads of the government had not known until days before the incident.

Regardless of Snotzenexer's other assumed atrocities, the evidence against him and his wife (the two had been officially married four months ago) was right in front of him. He briefly thought about taking the asteroid footage to his bosses, but he could imagine what their response would be. He had a good guess because he used to hold their positions, and he knew what he would do if a PEN director had brought him this footage.

The response would be something like this: "You have three instances of disappearing asteroids from seven months ago, and you want use them to accuse the most powerful and popular man in the universe of mass murder. Not only would you be accusing him of murdering billions of innocent people, but they are the same people that he is now spending millions of credits to save."

That response would be totally valid, yet at the same time, he could not just ignore what he had. There was probably one person who he could talk with that might be able to lend him a listening ear. He just did not know if he would be able to track down the former president of the Republic.

* * *

Leia followed the Jedi student through the halls of the Academy dormitory. Even after months of labor, there was still only one livable dormitory on the jungle moon. The first dormitory had been built quickly by eager students. The second one was taking forever. Coruscant was no longer giving any financial support to the Academy, and the flood of donations from construction yards immediately after the assault on the moon some eight months ago now had slowed to less than a trickle.

The student had told Leia that there was someone trying to reach her by holocom. Transmissions by holocom were very expensive and rarely unimportant. Because both parties could see each other, there was little room for trickery, and at a time like this, Leia had no more patients for prank calls. No prank would use the holocom.

Leia sat herself down in front of the holo-viewer and transferred the call in. A man's face appeared on the screen. He looked to be about Han's age, with a little more gray in his hair than her husband, but the same determined features. "What can I do for you?"

"My name Borrel Curtis. You may call me Borrel. I am a film director for the TBC. I have some very unique information, and I was hoping you could help me."

"What does this information concern?"

"It concerns the disaster in the Denorid system and possibly a responsible party."

"Hold it right there, Borrel!" Leia was suddenly excited. "Is your transmission secure?"

Leia watched the man on the other end of the line hit a few buttons. "It is now."

"What do you have?"

"I have film footage of asteroids being gathered from inside the Varion asteroid field by what I believe to be a cloaked ship. The time the footage was shot coincides with the time ships were supposed to have occupied the asteroid field and predates the Denorid disaster by a week or two."

Leia listened to what he had to say, glad that she was dealing with a levelheaded man. At no time in his explanation of what he had did he mention any names or even imply who he felt was responsible. "Has anyone else seen this footage?"

"Yes, but I believe I am the only one to have identified actual asteroid collection. I am working on a film and several editors have gone over the film, but what I am talking about is in the background."

"I want you to give me coordinates where I can meet you. I am going to bring someone else with me, and we will want to see this holo-vid. In the mean time, show your findings to no one. Not anyone. You may continue the editing process of your movie, but if anyone else notices this phenomenon, tell them to disregard it and move on. Edit it out of the final copy if you have to, but no one else may see this."

Leia began to rise from her chair to tell Thomas of the news and paused. "One more thing. Borrel, what you are about to get into will absolutely blow your mind. Once you start down this road you won't be able to turn back with out grave consequences. The players involved in this are bigger than you think. If you have any type of security system around your house, double-check it. Do not plan any trips except the one to meet us. Be very careful. I'll expect the coordinates in one hour sent by normal transmission. Under no circumstances should you try to reach me again. Leia out."

Thomas Thorin was not as excited as Leia. Leia sat in front of him having just told him the news. "He said he was a movie director?"

"That's right," Leia said. "He said he had footage that he had shot for a film, and he found several instances of disappearing asteroids in the background on some of the shots."

"He saw what he thought were disappearing asteroids in the background of some space footage, and he called you to tell you he knew who was responsible for the Denorid disaster. I do not think he's telling us everything, Leia."

"Maybe not. Maybe he has other more incriminating evidence. He was very careful with what he said over the holo-com. He picked up on my urgency and did not say more than he had to. Regardless of how he knows what he knows, he knows it. And we know he's right."

"Yes, but what can we do with it? If he is a film director, like he says, he's not in the news media. Even if he was, how would the public react to a news story that declared their beloved president was responsible for the disaster in the Denorid system?"

"Good point. No one would believe us."

"Wait," Thomas said, second guessing himself. "We don't care how the public reacts. We have been sitting on our hands for the past six months waiting for Snotzenexer to act. This revelation might just bring that action. Yes, I will go with you to meet this film director. When do we leave?"

"Tonight," Leia responded, happy they were finally going to take some action against Snotzenexer.

Chapter 2 "Make Sure You're not Expendable"

President Alexander Snotzenexer walked down the hallway towards the office of his trade advisor. The name "trade advisor" was really quite ridiculous. A normal president hired aides and advisors to assist him in fields in which he felt less than adequately equipped. A trade advisor would normally recommend courses of action to his employer based on that man's expertise on the subject. In this case, Snotzenexer was the one doing all the advising.

Snotzenexer stopped in front of the door to the Twi'lek's office and waited patiently as the trade advisor recognized his presence and opened the door. As Snotzenexer walked through the door and looked around the room at Cog Fardin's collection of computer stations and data cards, he realized that while the Twi'lek rarely advised Snotzenexer, he was far from a novice in the field of trade. Snotzenexer held no illusions that he knew more than this highly educated Twi'lek in the area of commerce and business.

The difference here was that while Cog Fardin might know more about trade and how a federation like the one they were setting up should be run, he did not have a fraction of Snotzenexer's cunning or foresight. Besides that, Snotzenexer was not interested in setting up the most profitable organization possible, he wanted one that would ensure his control over the operation.

"Status," Snotzenexer said simply.

"Fifty-four more freighters joined the Federation in the past month. Mostly they are just small ships that had operated on their own. With the new set up, it is increasingly difficult for entrepreneurs to make a comfortable profit on their own. The small businesses with which they dealt are finding it far less of a hassle to deal with us. Besides the wide selection of cargo and quick delivery, we are almost always capable of offering a lower cost to our customer because of our size.

"You see," Cog began to explain, "our individual profit margins do not need to be as high since we deal with well over five thousand transactions a day. Independent organizations who only make one or two transactions a week need to-"

Snotzenexer waved his hand at the blabbering Twi'lek. "What about Solo?"

Cog looked surprised. He had not spent enough time around the president yet to view this instance of unexpected knowledge as common place. He had been preparing to break the news of Han's joining the Federation in just a few minutes. "He submitted his application two weeks ago. The Pilot Relations Committee handles all the applications. They review the pilots' legal history and cross-check the list of references against the stor-"

Snotzenexer waved his hand again, growing impatient. "Did you assign him a Trade Federation Rep yet?"

"Yes," Cog responded, beginning to get the hint that he was offering too much information. "She is a young Frolian, probably half Solo's age. She just joined the Federation not but a few days ago. With so many pilots joining, we are not capable of providing established Federation members as representatives. Thus, we are hiring people with a hist-" Cog bit back his comments, as Snotzenexer reached a hand out to him. Cog realized he had started to babble again, and that Snotzenexer had not merely cut him off, but also had an expectant look on his face.

"Her file, please," Snotzenexer requested calmly.

"Of course, sir." He dug around his desk for a short while and procured the data card. He quickly slipped it into a pad and handed it to Snotzenexer.

Snotzenexer took the pad and looked closely at the information. Her name was Delan Fowlry. As Cog had said, she was from Froly, a planet near the Detsgor Sector. Froly was known for its short-tempered, efficient, calculating citizens. The jobs listed on Delan's resume all implied positions of authority in areas where she would have dealt with self-assured individualists, much like Solo. She was also gorgeous.

Snotzenexer had managed to remove the Jedi threats, but had not been able to make any moves against the lower profile individuals that had populated the former power base in the government. Mara and Anakin were dead. Luke was still trapped in the Hoth system. He had reason to believe that the Solo twins were indisposed due to the fact that Eran had returned in their ship with no sight of either young Jedi.

While he had managed to remove Wedge, Han, Leia, and the 185th from positions of power, they were still at large. Like he had told Sanson, there was only a handful of ways to kill prominent people without drawing attention to yourself. The remaining members of the former government were all too savvy to fall prey to individual assassin techniques. Snotzenexer would have to organize something far more elaborate to remove them. Something that would likely also be far more traceable.

Here was an interesting situation. If Snotzenexer could organize Solo's route so he stayed away from Yavin IV and Leia, for extended time periods, the temptation of the beautiful young TFR would be much harder to resist. If that marriage was ruined, much of the glue that held any potential resistance together might also come undone.

"I would have liked to meet her," Snotzenexer said, thinking out loud.

"That would have been very improper, sir. The President of the Republic should have no jurisdiction in such matters." Cog was just about to go into the particulars and repercussions of such an act, but held back the excess information.

"Did you meet her?"

The question was fair, and Cog realized he was trapped. "Yes."

"Is it not also unusual for the head of the Trade Federation to inquire into the simple assigning of representatives?"

"Yes, sir, but as you implied by your desire to see her, there are extenuating circumstances. Since she was assigned to Solo, I wanted to make sure she would be fit for the task."

"What was your impression of her?"

"I must say, sir, I am not often attracted to female members of your race. Their continual insistence on coating themselves with colors and scents is very revolti-" Cog paused as he noticed he was rambling again. "But she was very intoxicating. She had the body of a dancer, lithe and powerful. If she had head tails, she would no doubt be in the employ of the royal palace back home as a prominent dancer."

Snotzenexer let out a sigh of frustration. "What of her intellect? Will she take orders from you or myself? How will she react to our ulterior motives once they're revealed? We can't have her siding with Solo when the time comes to remove him."

"She is concerned about money, sir. She wants to get paid. I started her off at a much higher salary than most people in her position and I think a constant flow of credits will keep her on our side."

Snotzenexer nodded in approval. "I also started Solo on probationary status," Cog continued. "Our pilots are only allowed so many infractions before they are removed from service or reduced in pay. Infractions include such things as not responding to a shipment summons, loosing or damaging cargo after or between ownership transferal, delivering cargo late, not-"

"Remove his probation status," Snotzenexer interrupted. The Republic President wanted to keep control of as many things as he could, but he understood that this situation and many like it would be too complex for him to give the attention needed. For this reason he decided to explain his request so he and Cog Fardin could be on the same page.

"You want to keep Solo from making a move against us by putting him on probation. I want you to remove that restriction because I want Solo to make a move against us. I honestly have no idea what the other side is planning to do with their limited resources, but I want to find out. If Solo is under probation he won't have the freedom I want him to have.

"I also assume that this Miss Fowlry has a contact in the Trade Federation to whom she is supposed to give regular updates. I want to be that contact. Do not tell her who I am. Make up a name and position for me, but use my office frequency and give her times of the day when I am available."

Cog nodded, making notes on a data pad. Snotzenexer finished looking at the pad he was holding and set it back on the Twi'lek's desk. "Any further information that you think I should have can be collected into a report and given to my secretary." With that, Snotzenexer turned to leave Cog Fardin's office.

"Uh, one other thing, sir," Cog called to Snotzenexer's back. "Congratulations on the new toca."

Snotzenexer did not turn back to face his advisor as he paused. "Twi'lek have tocas; humans have children. Thank-you, anyway." With that, Snotzenexer left the office.

* * *

"Hey, Wedge, whatcha up to?"

Wedge Antilles looked over his shoulder to see Anakin Solo coming toward him. "Looking for ships," he replied. "I haven't seen you around in a while," Wedge spun his chair away from the monitor. "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, Mara had me run a couple errands for her. Something about finding a slicer. I think his name was Ghent, or something. She said he was better than me," Anakin grinned, "but I don't buy it."

Wedge thought about it for a while. He'd seen both prodigies at work, and he was not so sure about it either. "You've got him in speed and accuracy, but he's probably got you with technique and versatility."

"Come on Wedge," Anakin boasted. "What can't I do with computers?"

Wedge had noticed a very evident change in Anakin's composure over the past few months. Always before, whenever Wedge had talked with the young Jedi, he had seemed depressed and withdrawn. In the past year, though, he had matured in so many ways that he was beginning to act more like his brother. Plus with all of the activity around Yavin IV, preparing for another rebellion, Anakin finally had an outlet for his skills other than studying at the Academy.

"If you want to impress me with your computer skills, why don't you sit down and help me with this search."

"What exactly are you looking for?" Anakin asked, pulling up a chair next to his uncle's long time friend. "And don't say ships. What kind of ships?"

"Mara and Thomas are running this little gambit against Snotzenexer and both have warned me that the winner might be decided with turbo lasers. Currently our inventory of ships comes down to a couple fighters, the Lady Luck, the Falcon, and the Jade's Fire. While the fighters and freighters are excellent ships, they won't stand up to Snotzenexer's two dozen or so Star Destroyers, plus the countless Republic ships his wife now commands in the Republic military."

Anakin looked curiously at Wedge. "You want to go up against the Republic Navy? You're crazy! Even after Danzig 359 and with the slow rebuilding process, the Republic has over 200 battle worthy capitol ships and literally thousands of smaller ships."

"Now you know why I'm looking for ships," Wedge responded. Anakin was right about the Republic's fleet strength, but the count was misleading. Most of the ships were on patrol or sentry hundreds of light years from each other. It would take over a month just to assemble the whole fleet, much less coordinate it into a usable fighting force.

Wedge had commanded twice that number of ships when he had been Admiral of the Republic Navy, and he knew how things worked. If Sanson tried to assemble a fleet for battle on even a week's notice, she would only come up with about 30 ships in addition to her collection of Star Destroyers. Still, that was 30 more ships than Wedge had.

"I'm looking at the galactic history Tionne has compiled to see if I can read between the lines and find some great war that happened with ships unaccounted for. Maybe a fleet got lost in a wormhole, or a disease whipped out a civilization, leaving its ships floating somewhere in space."

Anakin nodded, understanding. "I suggest you start looking in the Clone Wars."

"I'm not going to find anything there, Anakin," Wedge looked startled. "I was almost alive for that. I'm looking for something far enough back to have been forgotten."

"You won't find anything," Anakin responded with a sure tone. "I've studied the Clone Wars. The Sith built more stockades and weapon stashes than can likely be counted. Lots of them weren't used. My grandfather was an unexpected trump card the Dark Side was able to play, making many of the stockades unnecessary. Now they are just collecting dust."

"Hasn't anyone ever looked for them?" Wedge asked.

"Who would have a reason?" Anakin asked. "Since the Clone Wars, there have been only two exchanges of power, and the only big battles were fought outside of the Force, for the most part. The Emperor was not going to dig them up. I'm sure the idea he might need backup never entered his mind. Once we gained power, we had no need for ships. Thrawn is the only one who went looking for help. He found the lost dreadnoughts and the Wayland base. Even if he knew where a Sith stronghold was, he would have never been able to open it."

Wedge was scanning battles and lists of casualties from the Clone Wars as Anakin talked, having no idea what he was looking for. "So how do we find one?"

"First we have to think like Sith," Anakin said with a mischievous grin. "They have a history of hiding out on primitive worlds to gain the admiration of the population there. Technology has always been the Sith's worst enemy. Is the Republic monitoring any primitive worlds right now?"

Wedge gained access to the list of quarantined worlds and began crosschecking them with their proximity to the core worlds. The Republic had developed a new system when dealing with worlds that had not yet gained space flight technology. These planets had been at the mercy of the Empire before, but now the Republic used masked probes to track their technological progress. When the civilization was ready to join the rest of the galaxy, the Republic sent dignitaries and representatives to great them into their new life. The planets did one of two things. They either joined the Republic, glad to be so well received, or they desperately tried to wage war against the rest of the galaxy. The second option never went well for either side, and those planets were usually gutted and ripped apart, leaving them fresh for crime lords and natural resource pillagers.

"There are a few planets right now, but none of them claim to be harboring Sith strongholds," Wedge observed.

Anakin ignored the sarcasm. "The Sith would need a spot that would be undisturbed during their absence. Do any of the planets have deserted moons with atmospheres? Are there any vast oceans with the potential for an undiscovered island?"

"Here's something," Wedge said finally. "Bersd is the name of the planet. It looks like they just gained satellite capability a dozen years ago. They found a very unusual archeological site in the middle of their vast dessert."

"How big is the dessert?" Anakin asked, wondering if it was a good Sith prospect.

"About 5000 kilometers at its most narrow point," Wedge said. "I doubt anyone ever tried to cross it before. There's no real way to tell how long whatever they found has been there. The news reports the Republic probe is able to pick up claim that the site is so amazing that most people are attributing its existence in the middle of the wasteland to their god."

Anakin had a weird sensation about this planet. "Sounds like the perfect environment for a Sith who wants to come back to power. He erects a stronghold in the middle of nowhere that will likely never be found. And if it is, it will be looked at like a temple to an unknown god. Then when the Sith shows up. . ."

"The god is no longer unknown," Wedge finished the thought.

"Well," Anakin said, rising from his seat, "are you ready to make a trip?"

* * *

Ferris Loyran was relaxing in a lounge chair on his porch looking out over the lake. He owned the entire body of water and was therefore able to keep other eager homebuilders from cluttering the shoreline. Thick, uninterrupted trees bordered this mountain side lake, and the morning fog hovered over the placid, blue water like a forest ghost. The sun would be long in coming over the eastern peaks keeping this scene just as it was for at least an hour longer.

President Loyran often liked to get in his kayak and paddle around the relatively small lake during mornings like this. The cool, moist, mountain air helped wash away most of the stress that accumulated in his body throughout the week. It was weekends like this, away from his orbiting office, and in his mountain mansion that reminded him why he went through all the troubles of being the president of the fastest growing shipyard in ten sectors. Only the Republic's own shipyard at Coruscant compared to his, and that might not last as Snotzenexer was constantly trying to unify everything into one, easily-controllable entity.

Ferris knew a time might be coming soon when he would have to leave the Varion system to take up residence on Coruscant permanently. Snotzenexer had brought Ferris into his confidence, more out of necessity than want. It was just too hard for the Republic President to hide all his actions from the observant head of operations. Snotzenexer had had two choices: remove Ferris or use him.

Ferris was glad that the powerful man had chosen the latter, but knew the former was always possible if he did not comply with Snotzenexer's wants. "Lead, follow, or get out of the way," Ferris said, repeating a popular phrase among big businesses, "or be removed," he added, chuckling to himself. He slowly sipped his morning fruit drink as he looked out over his lake.

"Sir," a polite, male voice from behind interrupted his relaxation. "There is someone here to see you."

"Walters, what time is it?" Ferris asked without looking back.

"It is a quarter past seven, sir," the butler replied.

Who in the world would visit at this hour on a weekend, Ferris thought. Besides, not too many people knew where this place was. "It better not be my ex, Walters."

"Trust me, sir," the older man said, his voice begging more respect from his employer, "I disliked her even more than you did. Your visitor is a woman, though, and she seemed very insistent on seeing you."

"Did she give a name?"

"Yes, though I have a hard time believing it. She called herself Sandie Hollins."

This name finally got a physical reaction from Ferris. The President of the Varion Imperial Bank was the highest ranking, non-political figure in the entire system. What President Hollins wanted, she got. Most of her authority came through the fact that her orders were seen as tantamount to Snotzenexer's. Still, the woman did not ride completely on the former president's coat tails. With the help of the system's press, President Hollins had made sure the public realized that she was not part of a puppet regime, but planned on making most of her decisions independently from the Republic President. Snotzenexer still had an office to return to when ever he wanted, but his input could be likened to that of a prominent board member, and not of a puppeteer.

"Please show her out here."

"Yes sir," Walters replied and disappeared.

Before the butler returned with Ferris' guest, the president made sure that his morning robe was cinched tightly over his sleeping attire. This probably was not a business meeting, but he did not want to get too casual with his guest.

Sandie followed Walters onto the porch a few moments later. She was dressed for the weekend with a light windbreaker over a white T-shirt and navy slacks. "Good morning, President Hollins," Ferris rose and extended his hand. "This is definitely an unexpected, yet pleasant surprise. Would you like something to drink?"

Sandie seemed cheery enough as she took the offered hand, yet she had a look in her eyes that told of hidden urgency. Almost like she expected to be pounced on by a predator at any moment. "Thank-you, President Loyran." She turned to Walters. "A glass of water will be fine, with a squirt of cerulean nectar, if you could."

"No problem, Miss."

Walters disappeared quickly as Ferris motioned to another lounge chair alongside his own. Sandie unzipped her jacket and sat herself down, her eyes appreciating Ferris' misty back yard. Before either president could speak, Walter's reappeared with Sandie's drink and then vanished just as quickly.

"Well," Ferris started, "to what do I owe this unusual visit?"

"To whom," Sandie corrected, thinking Ferris would know exactly whom she was referring to.

"Ah," Ferris observed slowly.

"Let me start by apologizing for intruding upon your home like this. I just felt this was the only safe spot where we could talk."

Ferris had the feeling Sandie still did not feel safe, regardless of the fact that there was no chance of this conversation being heard by anyone other than his butler, a man who had been with the Loyran family all his life. "What did you find?" he asked.

Sandie sighed and took a deep drink from her glass. She still was not comfortable talking about things out loud. Half the time she did not even feel safe thinking about them. "What didn't I find," she finally answered.

"Let me guess," Ferris said, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. "You have pretty convincing evidence that Snotzenexer broke a few rules to gain his position. It's not concrete evidence, but in your eyes it's almost irrefutable."

Sandie nodded mutely, though with Ferris' eyes closed, he could not see her.

"He cheated on a few taxes, laundered some money, and might have even stolen some, and you want to know what to do about it. Am I right?" He opened his eyes and looked at her for the last line.

"Most of it is more serious than what you're saying," Sandie insisted. It sounded to her like the VCY's president was taking this situation rather lightly. She had not forgotten that some of Snotzenexer's misdealings involved large monitory contributions to the Varion Construction Yards, something her host was no doubt aware of.

"I doubt it," Ferris replied. "Most of it might imply far more serious activity, but nothing that you found would be able to prove it."

"There are just too many coincidences that had to have taken place for things to happen like they did. I came to you because your company came up in several instances involving Snotzenexer and-"

"Are you warning me before you go public with what you found?" Ferris interrupted.

Sandie was shocked. It was not the implication that she was accusing him of a crime - it was the idea of going public. She suddenly understood her associate's calm composure. He probably knew more than she did, especially since most of her knowledge was the result of guesswork.

"It just doesn't make sense," Sandie finally said. "If I wanted to do what he did, there are lots of ways to hide it. If he had even just filled out some of the appropriate datapad work that accompanied most of his questionable transactions, it would have kept me, or anyone else, from going over them and discovering what he did. In fact, I could have done twice as much as did and not get caught. It just doesn't make sense that someone as smart and knowledgeable as Snotzenexer would be so careless."

"I'm sure he wasn't that careless," Ferris said, not believing Sandie was being completely fare with the Republic President. "Just think of all the things you don't know."

"And you do," Sandie guessed.

And guessed correctly, Ferris thought. "I can tell you this. I have a pretty good idea why Snotzenexer left such an obvious trail-"

"It really wasn't that obvious," Sandie jumped in. "It took three auditing agencies and myself to sort through what he did and even then we didn't see everything right away. The discrepancies were there, but it took a lot of time to solve them."

"I am willing to bet my life on the fact that Alexander Snotzenexer had never set foot in a bank before the day he became president of the VIB," Ferris said.

Sandie literally laughed out loud at the idea. "Impossible," she said quickly and then paused in thought.

"You said it yourself," Ferris insisted. "All it would have taken was a signature here, an insignia stamp there, and you would have never found anything. Don't you think someone with even a tenth of the experience Snotzenexer claims to have would know that?"

The idea no longer seemed so ludicrous to Sandie. She could see now that most of the slightly illegal things Snotzenexer had done were brilliantly conceived and executed, but lacking in protocol. It was kind of like a kid who builds the most spectacular sandcastle imaginable with winding staircases and intricate sculptures, only to have it wiped out by the tide. The tide was a pretty simple phenomenon, but for someone who has never been to the beach before, it comes as a surprise.

"Why the lie, then?" Sandie asked.

"One reason was probably to get the former VIB President to deal with him, though more likely to hide what he had really done all his life."

"Which was. . ." Sandie prompted, feeling that Ferris had the answer.

"Before Snotzenexer ever held the title of president, he was an Admiral." Ferris turned to look directly at Sandie as he continued, enjoying the look of shock on her face. "He was an Admiral in the Imperial Navy. My guess is that he was active in the Imperial Navy as recently as the Danzig system."

Sandie could not speak.

"Of course all my knowledge is based on speculation, but, like your information, the speculations are based upon some pretty solid facts." Ferris almost laughed at Sandie's reaction. "Don't look so surprised. So you've found out your hero is a liar, a thief, and a cheat. It's not like he's a murderer."

Sandie thought back to her former boss. He had committed suicide as a direct result of one of Snotzenexer's moves. "Not directly anyway," Sandie finally managed in response to Ferris' last statement.

"There are two different types of people at the top. There are those who attained their position with knowledge, skill, and hard work. And there are those who are in power simply because they were the last person standing when the smoke cleared. In both instances, the people earned their place, and both are prepared to handle what is thrown at them. You might look at it as the difference between honesty and dishonesty, but that's probably only because you fall into the first category. I would not want anyone to document how I rose to the top of my company. If you knew what I did when I was a kid trying to get ahead in business, you'd be horrified.

"The difference with our mutual friend is that he used both tactics. Most people I deal with know how I attained my position. They know that I won't take any crap from anyone and they treat me with respect. Most people also know how you attained your position. You have a reputation for being an intellectual. People are not going to try and cheat or swindle you because they know you'll see right through it.

"Snotzenexer has the whole galaxy convinced that he is like you, when really he's more like you and me. There is no way that anyone, I don't care if they are twice as smart as Snotzenexer, could ever do what he did, in the time he did it, without breaking a few rules."

"But an Imperial?" Sandie asked, still stuck on that new piece of information.

"What if I told you I was Engoian?" Ferris asked. Sandie instinctively recoiled from her host at the mention of the very prejudiced race. "I'm not," he quickly assured her, "but if I was, would that make any difference? My past is my past. What matters is what I am doing now. Yea, Snotzenexer is not perfect, and maybe he doesn't deserve to be president of the whole galaxy, but what are you going to do about it?"

Sandie thought hard about this for a while as Ferris continued to talk. "I know what you're thinking, because I've thought it myself. 'What if his trickery continues into his Republic Presidency? What if what he is doing even now is just more deceiving activity that will only be discovered a year from now when it is too late?' To this I have to ask myself what Snotzenexer would possibly have to gain. I place myself in his shoes and can only come up with one plausible explanation for everything.

"Imagine that you are an Imperial Admiral on the run. You are a genius. You are so much smarter than anyone else you've ever met that it is ridiculous. Despite this personal skill, you consistently loose battle after battle because the remaining Imperials are so disorganized that the Republic rolls over them with ease. You just barely escaped from Danzig and realize that the Empire is truly dead. You decide it is finally time to throw in the towel and admit defeat.

"The one problem is that the government you are now going to live under is showing just as much ineptitude as the one you were just a part of. You constantly remember thinking that if you could have just been given the reigns of the Empire, they would have never lost. But now that they have, you do not want to go through the same thing with this new government.

"It's no longer about Empire vs. Republic, it's far less complicated than that. It's simply not having the patience to watch someone screw something up while you sit by having to watch - having to live with their mistakes. You just want to be given the chance to show you can do it better than anyone else."

"You think it all comes down to pride?" Sandie asked, not convinced.

"You're not married, are you? When a man, especially a man of Snotzenexer's intellect, sees something that he knows he can fix, he's going to try."

"What if you're wrong?" Sandie dared to ask. "What if this is not about fixing a broken government?"

"What if this is about returning to the Imperial glory days?" Ferris voiced Sandie's thoughts. "I put the odds of that at about one in ten. Even if that happens, I'm prepared. If you feel uncomfortable about it, just make sure you have a contingency plan. Try to make sure you're not expendable. That's about all I can tell you right now."

The two of them did not talk for a long time. The sun was just peeking over the tops of the mountains and the two presidents were content to forget about their worries for a moment to view the spectacle.

Sandie drove down from the mountains an hour later still mulling over the last thing Ferris Loyran had said to her. "Try to make sure you're not expendable." Was she? Sandie knew what Snotzenexer was doing with the VIB better than most people. The financial kingdom Snotzenexer had created was playing a vital role in almost all of the new administrations and organizations he was setting up. Sandie needed to attach herself to the innerworkings of the bank so intimately as to make it impossible to remove her from it. Like Siamese twins, it would take an incredibly skilled physician to separate her from the VIB. Sandie remembered who she was dealing - who the physician would be - and decided it might not be a bad idea to get herself some protection just in case.

Chapter 3 "Recruiting Allies"

Quintil Harpinge sat nervously behind his desk. His eyes spun around his office like a frightened animal, constantly checking the cracks and nooks among his bookshelves and indoor plants. His eyes rested briefly on his huge window over-looking the skyline of Corsoloron City. It was a great view, but right now Quintil wished it was made of five-centimeter thick durrasteel. As it was, the scared CEO had erected an energy shield around the window, protecting against almost all potential laser fire. Still, any number of projectile missiles could find their way into his office, but the shield gave him some small level of safety.

It had all started to crumble about four months ago for the software tycoon. He was ranked in the top 50 wealthiest men in the corporate sector and in the top 100 for the entire recorded galaxy. The corporate sector was a vicious place to do business, and ambitious men and aliens came and went as quickly as weather fronts. Some dropped a lot of rain and others made a lot of wind and noise, but after a short while, it was almost as if they had never existed.

There were lots of businesses that were not recommended as smart ventures in the corporate sector. Weapon technology was something that was never a good idea to get into. Once a new style weapon was developed and marketed, it took a long time to tool up the manufacturing process to meet the demand, and by that time, the weapon was outdated by at least four other versions.

Designing HVAC systems was another big business with companies starting and dying within a standard year. With so many office buildings and corporate headquarters littered all over the sector, and so many new buildings going up, the need for quality heating, ventilating, and air conditioning was definitely there, but the competition was so vicious that only established companies who had experience with the numerous codes and regulations were able to survive. Plus, all it took was one building to burn down and the company responsible for the anti-fire system was put out of business with lawsuits. It did not matter if a competing corporation started the fire, all that mattered was that the HVAC system had failed.

Probably the most risky venture was computer software. Like with weapons, the technology was always advancing so fast, that no one could get their product to market fast enough to stay ahead of the development. The trick for a new company was to develop a system advanced enough and secret enough so it was brought to market just as another competing system became available. This would take advantage of all the advertising the other company had done, plus provide a better product.

Quintil had been able to do just that. Fifteen years ago, when he had started out, he had not only provided a tax software system that was the best on the market, but it was still top of the line. In addition, he made advancements each year, further distancing himself from the competition. Once he had gotten a name for himself and investors were begging to get in on his company, it was easy sailing.

It had been easy, that is, until now.

"Sir," the intercom on Quintil's desk blurted out. "There is a Miss James here to see you. She is a reporter from the Ghrockyt Review."

"Endi, you know what I told you about reporters. I'm not going to see her."

"But sir, this is the fifth one in four days. I do not know what is going on, but I think you need to address the public sooner or later."

"I do not need to take advice from my secretary, Endi."

That comment should have ended the discussion, but the persistent secretary continued. "Sir, there is something about this reporter. I do not think you should turn her away. She could be trouble."

Quintil sighed. "Send her through security and show her up," he finally gave in.

"Very well, sir."

This should not be too hard, Quintil thought to himself. She's only a reporter. She can't know that much yet. Still, now that the reporter frenzy had started, Quintil realized it was time to go into hiding before the authorities came for him.

The reporter came in after about two minutes. She was attractive, but not dressed so. Most female reporters tried to get him off guard with short skirts and tight, white blouses. This one wore a very conservative skirt with a baggy sweater. From what Quintil could see she had the body to put him off guard if she had chosen to, but the fact she did not try meant she had enough information so as to not need the sex-tactics.

Quintil motioned her to a chair in front of his desk, already wishing he had not accepted this interview. He was under no obligation to speak with the reporter, but he wanted to know exactly what people where finding out about his shady dealings. He should also probably have a lawyer present. He would, too, if it was not for the fact he did not have one and would boil his head in rotten egg yolks before he ever got one.

"Would you like something to drink, Miss James?" he offered politely, walking over to a small bar and pouring himself a virgin drink.

"No thank-you," she declined politely. "You may call me Mary."

"Okay, Mary," Quintil complied once he returned to his seat, "what can I do for you?"

"First things first. Is your name Quintil G. Harpringe?"

Quintil nodded in response to the question.

"What does the 'G' stand for?"

No response.

"Just curious. Well, Quintil," she started, assuming a first name basis, "your name has been in the press a lot lately. It seems that several governments have found they are missing large amounts of money, and most of them are blaming your software."

Quintil raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, as if this was news to him.

"In fact almost every planetary government that used your system over the past dozen years and is now switching over to the Trade Federation software is finding inconsistencies. What these companies are finding is that when they had been charging incoming shipments the various collection of taxes that applied to that shipment, your software had been skimming an extra fraction of credit off each transaction. It was very clever actually. Rarely did the taxes come out to an even credit and your software took that extra fraction and stored it in a separate account. No one ever noticed this skim because your software reported to one side that it had rounded the amount down and showed the other that it had rounded up.

"Now that the Trade Federation is slowly spreading its jurisdiction throughout the Corporate Sector, these systems are being overhauled, and the rounding error is being discovered. At first it was thought to be just that, an error, but after checking electronic receipts with shippers, it was found that in almost every case there was a discrepency of about one credit per transaction.

"Of course now the question is: 'Where is the money?' Before your software came around, governments were bogged down in datapad work, employing way too many people to handle the flow of commerce in and out of their planets. When you came along, you developed a program that could handle countless accounts at once, running everything flawlessly, eliminating a lot of the wasted personnel and making customs much easier for everyone involved.

"I guess this hidden tax of yours should be looked at as a minor inconvenience. After all it is only about half a credit per shipment, while the governments were wasting far more than that before. The only problem is that each government figures to have dealt with several million traders over the past dozen years. Even then, its only about three or four million credits per government, but when you multiply that by the hundreds of governments that are running your software, you turn into quite the crook."

Through the accusations, all of which were true, Quintil was slowly working his hand under his desk.

"Of course this means that your current ranking of 27th in the recent poll of the wealthiest beings in the Corporate Sector is probably inaccurate. I mean what is several billion credits worth invested over a dozen years tax free? You're probably closer to 15th on the money list, are not you?"

"Twelfth, actually," Quintil admitted bluntly. He had already made up his mind that this woman would not leave his office alive. He had not guessed a tenth of what the public knew.

"So where did the money go?" Mary asked, pretending not to be startled by Quintil's admission of guilt.

"It was funneled into a dummy account. The names for the dummy accounts were different for each government, and each year, right before tax time, each dummy would empty the entire account with a charitable donation to Feed the Famished located here on Corsoloron. Of course the charitable organization did very little feeding, but it did just enough to keep its donations tax deductible. Heck, each year we even got contributions from real people who were just too stupid to research the organization they contributed to."

Quintil slowly flipped open a hidden compartment under his desk holding a blaster. "I do not regret what I did. Like you said, I saved each government at least ten credits a transaction. I deserved at least five percent, if not fifty. Besides, I think Feed the Famished actually did save several families from starvation each month."

Quintil removed the blaster from its holster and slowly brought it to his lap. "I know my customers won't see things the same way I do, so that's why I have to make sure they never see me again." He quickly brought his blaster above his desk. "Or you."

Mary never shifted from her comfortable position in her chair as the blaster was aimed right at her heart. A clawed hand with fingers like steel cables clamped suddenly on Quintil's gun wrist, forcing him to drop the weapon instantly. "I would not do that if I were you," a gruff voice from behind him said.

Quintil saw the hairy arm coming around from behind him, securing his wrist with incredible strength. He had no idea how a beast could have slipped into his office unnoticed, but there was no denying the presence behind him. Another clawed hand secured itself on Quintil's neck, preventing him from turning to see his enemy and keeping his eyes focused forward on Mary James.

Mary rose from her chair and picked up the dropped blaster, looking at it like it was a foul piece of garbage. "Really, is this how you treat old friends. I would have expected better from you." She leaned very close to him from across the desk, paying no mind to the alien who had him secured from behind. "You know, I'd still like to know what the 'G' in your name stands for. It would not be Ghent by any chance, would it?"

It all clicked in his mind. Old friends. His real name. And her name: Mary James. "Mara Jade? Is that you?"

He suddenly sounded like the young slicer Mara remembered from her days with Karrde. "Yes it's me," she replied, dropping her Force disguise for the time being.

"And your friend?" Ghent asked, too startled by this sudden change of events to compose himself properly.

"Oh, him," Mara cast a look behind the seated slicer, "Ra'tok's harmless. You can let him go now."

"Are you sure? He did try to kill you just now."

"He'd have never pulled the trigger. I know him too well."

Ghent begged to differ. He had had every intention of killing Mary James, the reporter, but the Defel behind him let him go anyway. "I do not suppose you paid me a visit for a loan, did you?"

Mara laughed. "Not hardly. I came here to offer you a way out."

Ghent tried to relax a little, but it was not easy. Ra'tok was still behind him, not trusting the man like Mara did. "How much do the governments really know?"

"They haven't a clue," Mara replied.

"But you were the fifth reporter to come to see me."

Mara shook her head. "I am the only person who has come to see you. I just came five different times. I have the ability to change my appearance through the Force." Mara paused. "Though Anakin tells me it's only a matter of time before real reporters start showing up."

"Anakin?" Ghent had not heard the name before.

"He's a Jedi slicer who is probably the only person in the galaxy who could have seen through your scheme in less than an hour."

Ghent scoffed at the boast. The glitch in the system had cropped up four months ago and Ghent's latest information said they were only noticing a few discrepancies between charges and receipts.

It was true though, once the fiscal year ended and the governments started switching over to the Trade Federation's tariff free system, there would be nothing to skim and deposits of zero credits would routinely be made into his dummy accounts. Then once a year imaginary citizens all over the sector would make zero sum donations to his charitable front. It would definitely be noticed. He was just scared that someone could get lucky early on and figure it all out.

Sensing Ghent's disbelief, Mara elaborated. "Anakin can go beyond the screen and keyboard. He can use the Force to actually follow a program logistically as it runs. Much like traveling down the streets of a city, Anakin gets into the program mentally and figures out what's going on."

"My program uses thousands of redirections to divert anyone from seeing where the fractional credits are going. There's no way anyone could follow that, besides, it does all the transactions in less than a second."

"And I said it took him an hour, a time frame which contains 3,600 seconds. How else do you think I know what I know?"

Ghent shrugged his shoulders, realizing neither side of this conversation was going to convince the other they were wrong. "You said you had a way out for me?"

"Have you been keeping up with galactic affairs?"

"Other than what the Trade Federation is doing with my software, no."

Mara spent five quick minutes explaining what had happened, sparing none of Snotzenexer's atrocities. Ghent looked very somber, his problems seeming suddenly insignificant. "Are you going to offer me a way out of my predicament or into yours?"

"Both," Mara answered. "I've found out that the Trade Federation is getting ready to handle the distribution involved in Snotzenexer's new drug administration. The first crops of medicine are just coming in and the expected demand is growing by ten percent every week. Federation Administrator, Cog Fardin, has been looking for someone to oversee this infusion of traffic and to organize a complete system upgrade. He has not placed an ad yet, knowing what kind of response he would get, but I can get you an interview. I'm sure you're exactly what he's looking for."

"How would this help either me or you?"

"When this fiscal year ends, like you said, all of the bugs in your software are going to crop up. I'm sure you can guess where the red lights will come on first."

"Trade Federation Headquarters," Ghent said, realizing that if he had a few months to prepare the system, he could not only eliminate his chances of being found out, but also probably even keep his scam running. If he set up the same operation in the Trade Federation, he would be able to skim accounts from all over the galaxy, turning his current yearly income into a daily one. "Sounds good for me, what about you?"

"You can imagine that Luke, Han, and Leia are not exactly happy with the change of events and are planning to overthrow Snotzenexer. Right now the Trade Federation represents over half of Snotzenexer's power. Through it he controls all food, medicine, weapons, supplies, etc. With it he can starve any planet he chooses. When the time comes, we are going to need to seize control of the system."

Ghent understood the monumental task ahead of him much better than Mara did. He would be one man against an entire, galaxy-wide organization. If the "time" came too soon, he would not have a prayer of seizing anything. However, if he was given time to automate as much as he could, he might have a chance. Either way, the proposition offered him an astronomical increase in pay, a chance to weasel out of his current sticky situation, and the first real challenge for his skills since he had started his present business fifteen years ago.

"I accept," Ghent said, a large smile on his face.

* * *

Leia and Thomas climbed through the hatchway, and thousands of people erupted into cheers. Leia was not ready for the welcome, and it took her several moments to realize the applause was not for her. Five meters above her head was the edge of the Ultra-Grav Football capsule. Leia had never been to a professional sporting event before, and it took a while to get used to the atmosphere.

They were inside of a huge cylindrical arena rotating in space. The cylinder was 110 meters long and 50 meters in diameter. Because of its rotation, all of the spectators entered the arena through the axis. From the entry point, catwalks covered the outside of the main arena, leading the spectators to their designated seats.

Once inside the arena, the spinning was no longer noticeable, save for the slight gravity that kept the fans in their seats covering the inside of the cylinder. Suspended in the middle of the arena, five meters from the edge, was the playing capsule. It was made of a padded, transparent plexi-glassine, allowing the spectators an excellent view of the activity inside.

The induced gravity was about two meters per second squared, or about a fifth of a normal sized planet. Because of this, the players were able to hurl themselves, and the ball, around the capsule with incredible ease and dexterity. The further from the edge of the capsule, the less gravity became. At each end of the capsule, a goal, five meters in diameter, was cut into the wall.

Each team was given a goal and fifteen players with which to defend it. The 30 players ran around the inside circumference of the playing field, passing the ball towards their opponent's goal. The passes were incredible, often crossing the diameter of the capsule. Players would launch the ball to their teammates who appeared to be walking on the ceiling. The receiving teammate would in turn launch the ball back at a 45-degree angle to another player standing 90 degrees away in the cylindrical playing field.

The goalies tried to stay in front of their goals, hovering in the air along the neutral central axis. Occasionally, several players would launch a teammate into the air, breaking the weak gravity and spinning him into the center of the capsule. A pass would meet him in the middle and with a spinning kick, the player would send a shot on goal. The goalie would block it, or he would not. Most recently, he had not, and the crowd was just now settling down.

Leia and Thomas looked at the ticket vouchers to see where they were supposed to sit. They walked between the seated crowd that curved upward in both directions. Leia had never been in an artificial gravity cylinder this small before, and she was still trying to get used to the low gravity.

Leia stopped in front of row 97 and begged her and Thomas' pardon as they worked their way towards seats 12 and 13. The seats were dramatically reclined so the spectators could look directly up at the action above. There was not room to comfortably squat down to lay in the chair, and Leia was troubled as to how to lower herself into it. Thomas recognized the low gravity and flopped himself backwards, almost floating into the chair. Leia tentatively fell backwards too, and experienced a very scary few moments as she fell slowly into the chair.

"You must be Leia Solo," a man said before Leia could get her bearings.

The view she was blessed with once she got into her chair was amazing. The activity inside the capsule was very intense. A second ball had just been added to the game, and to try and follow both took Jedi-like concentration.

"Leia Solo?" the man asked again, hoping he was not mistaken.

Leia turned her head, just then remembering why she was there at all. "Yes," she replied. "Borrel Curtis?" she asked in return.

The director nodded. "Is he with you too?" he gestured toward Thomas. Leia nodded in return, not trusting the volume of her voice with the crowd yelling at a missed shot. "I should probably sit between you. It will make conversation easier." Not waiting for Leia's response, Borrel pushed off with his elbows and quickly became vertical.

To Leia, who still was not used to the low gravity, the move made Borrel look incredibly strong. So amazed was Leia, that as Borrel side-stepped in front of Leia's chair and started to fall back again, Leia still had not moved. She now quickly scrambled over the armrest between her chair and the recently vacated on, settling into Borrel's chair, just as he floated back into hers.

Borrel introduced himself to Thomas briefly, and the three people got down to business. Amidst the cheers and cries of the thousands of fans around them, Leia and Thomas explained to Borrel the gruesome realities that surrounded Snotzenexer's rise to power. Even if the fans around them knew what kind of information was being discussed at nearly shouting volume at times, they would not have cared. This football game was between the sector's two best teams, and a heated rivalry was growing that would not be settled until the playoffs.

After the explanation was finished, Borrel shifted in his chair, suddenly very uncomfortable. It was half time now and most of the crowd was moving toward the refreshment stands or to the public refreshers that littered the outside of the cylinder.

"Do you have the recordings you spoke of with you?" Thomas asked.

Borrel nodded. "They're in my ship."

"I want to see them," Thomas said.

Borrel again shoved with his elbows, making him suddenly erect. Leia and Thomas followed suit and they worked themselves into the crowd and out of the main cylinder. The catwalks surrounding the main structure were crowded with people, and Leia was reminded of their constant motion as she watched the stars around them spinning by.

The trio made their way to the end of the spinning sports complex. An energy field, keeping the deadly vacuum well beyond the reach of the farthest catwalk surrounded the entire structure. The exit was not very crowded, the three conspirers being the only people who wanted to leave the exiting game. All three made their way through the transition tube between the spinning arena and the stationary dock.

The parking lot for the sporting complex was similar to a water pier, metal fingers branching out in all directions to docked spaceships. A few huge public transits sat at their designated docks, but personal yachts took up most of the docks. Without the spinning motion of the arena, the dock structure relied on more conventional artificial gravity.

Again energy shields to hold in the air covered the catwalks. The parking lot was packed to its maximum capacity, giving the Leia, Thomas, and Borrel and very nice view of thousands of ships. The area was very crowded, but Leia could imagine what this place would look like empty. The dark colored durasteel walkways would be nearly invisible against the black back drop of space, and it would appear to anyone standing in the empty parking lot that they were simply floating in the middle of space.

Borrel's ship was company owned, as were the tickets they had used to get into the football game. Borrel flashed his parking voucher into the scanning field and the lock to the docking sleeve was opened. The three moved through the sleeve and Borrel opened the ship.

Borrel led them to the media room, a must for a ship owned by the TBC. There were three cards sitting on top of a media player and Borrel slipped one of them in without speaking. He motioned for his guests to have a seat in one of the soft chairs along the wall. Before retreating from the media console, Borrel switched on a large holo-viewer and picked up a remote.

"This is footage from a probe we sent into the asteroid field in the Varion system to get footage for a movie I was producing," Borrel said as he walked over to a chair. The asteroids were already flying through the void above the holo viewer when he turned it on. He plopped down in a chair and dimmed the lights. "We used ten different probes before we got the footage we wanted."

Without warning, Borrel started to fast-forward the recording. Leia gasped as the asteroids suddenly increased their speed ten-fold. Borrel had watched each of the three holo-cards many times and had the location of the disappearing asteroids memorized. He suddenly returned the holo playback to normal speed and then initiated super-slow motion.

"Right here," Borrel motioned with a laser pointer built into the remote, "you can see what I'm talking about."

Leia and Thomas watched closely as an asteroid slowly moved behind an invisible barrier. Borrel rewound and enlarged the area of interest. As he played it again, Leia could clearly see that a distinct edge was moving across the asteroid as it slipped into invisibility.

"It looks like a straight edge," Borrel commented, rewinding and enlarging again, "but I had the computers look at it and there is a curve to it."

"It is a spherical cloaking device," Thomas said resolutely. "Nothing else could produce that effect."

"This is great," Leia said. "Now we have proof that Snotzenexer is behind the tragedy in the Denorid system!"

"We already had proof that the asteroids came from the Varion system," Thomas pointed out, reminding Leia of Wedge and Perry's analysis of the asteroids' mineral makeup. "This," he gestured to the holo image, which was playing back for a fourth time, "is not news to us."

"Then why did we come out here for it?" Leia asked.

"Because now we have a contact in the media who will work with us," Thomas said, turning to look at Borrel.

Borrel got up quickly, raising the lights. "Wait a minute, buddy. I don't know what you're planning, but I just found this and thought you might want to see it. I don't want to join up with you or anything."

"Yes you do," Thomas said confidently. "You would not have called us out here if you didn't want to help in some way."

"This is that way," Borrel said, laying the remote down next to the other two holo-cards that contained disappearing asteroids. "If you already knew what I found out, that's great, but I have no intention of bucking the system."

Thomas looked intently at the man in front of him. He could see that he was still in shock about what he and Leia had told him back in the arena. He had already thought that Snotzenexer was a mass murderer, but having every detail of the president's plan laid out for him, brought to life how real this situation actually was. Everyone who had gotten in the way of Snotzenexer's plans had died. The only ones to survive had been Jedi, and not all of them had made it.

Even though Borrel was scared at the idea, he still held some animosity toward the Republic's leader. He had harbored these crazy ideas about Snotzenexer being a villain and had dreamt of all the ways he could bring the president down. Like all conspiracy theorists, he was all talk and no show. When his hand was called and the money placed on the table, Borrel was having a tough time just anteing up, much less meeting the high bets.

"What are you willing to do?" Thomas asked, trying to catch the director in a trap.

"What do you mean?" Borrel responded.

"What were your plans when you sent us the ticket vouchers for this sporting event? After you showed us the holo, what were you going to do? You were going to help us, weren't you?"

"I had no idea that thi-"

"You had an idea," Leia interrupted. "You told me in your original call that you had an idea."

"A crazy idea. I did not thin-"

"A crazy idea that made you call the former president of the Republic on the holo-com," Thomas said. "I think you had more crazy ideas. Ideas that involved helping us bring down Snotzenexer."

"He'll kill me."

That was it. Leia and Thomas had brought nothing knew to the table other than the fact that Snotzenexer would definitely try to kill them. The holo-film archives are filled with stories about corrupt politicians that are attacked by lowly citizens. The whistle blowers always get the rough treatment from the accused, but some how slip away from the attackers and finally get their day in court. All the films end with the whistle blower on the shoulders of the public throng, while the crooked politician is put behind bars.

Borrel had images of being that whistle blower, but until now, he had only seen himself as the celebrated fact finder, not the target of assassins. "I won't lie to you," Thomas said. "Yes, Snotzenexer will likely try to kill us. In fact, he has tried many times already. That is why we have to be careful. We can't broadcast these images across the net. The public would lynch us before Snotzenexer got the chance. We need to attack him in such a way that his beloved followers will believe us.

"I have thought of several avenues to peruse, but until now have not had an outlet. Until now we have not had a way to get our message across to the public."

Borrel swallowed hard, realizing where he would enter the picture. "I can't broadcast this on our station. They are getting ready broadcast the Snotzenexer Documentary. I don't think they are looking for a counter point right now."

"I don't want to finger your broadcast company as the source of the information. That would give Snotzenexer a target at which he could lash out. No, I was thinking more about a private news bulletin. A sort of gossip column we could get out on data cards."

Borrel started to loose the fearful look in his eye as Thomas explained his idea. "Your looking for a tabloid outlet that would be willing to publish this story?"

"Not this story," Thomas answered, referring to the asteroids, "and not an established tabloid. We could publish something that is new. Established publications will only attracted established readers. We need to reach everyone."

"You want to submit an independent publication into the net's tabloid mainstream?"

"Not the tabloid mainstream, but the news mainstream."

"It will get rejected," Borrel argued.

"Not the initial submission," Thomas countered. "Depending on the public's reaction to it, it will probably get canceled or banished to the tabloid distribution centers, but its initial submission into the news mainstream will give the readers and the media a slight pause. The submission will tell them that the authors of the anonymous publication believe it to be news worthy and not mere gossip. Besides, we won't start with anything juicy, just irrefutable facts. Perhaps it will stay in the news net for a while before Snotzenexer can have it removed."

Borrel was nodding slowly, his earlier fright turning into a smile. "You just need a way to get into the net and then a formal way to submit a publication."

"Can you help us?" Leia asked.

"I believe I can."

Chapter 4 "New Assignments"

The tension around the table was thick as Jill Sanson spoke. "Captain Collins, do you have a report on morale?"

"I do," the middle aged Republic captain said evenly. He paused, looking around at the four other men sitting at the table. They each exchanged inconspicuous nods, transmitting silent affirmations that Collins should report a fabricated evaluation. "Morale is not good," he started bluntly, letting Admiral Sanson absorb the lie.

Sanson was not fooled. She had a good read on the pulse of the Republic Navy's morale and knew it to be better than it had been since the defeat of Thrawn. It was with great interest that Sanson listened to Collins' report.

"There are many fights breaking out between the Imperial defectors and the Republic officers. There is a constant fear - totally unsubstantiated," he threw in with a semi-sarcastic twitch of his mouth, "that the defectors wish to rebel and take over the fleet."

Sanson had many rebuttals to this comment, regardless of its truthful ring. Why would the men wish to rebel when they already have their former Admiral in command? What would they gain from dividing the Navy in half? Would not the Imperial defectors yearn for peace after decades of fighting? Sanson knew these Republic officers under her command wanted her to argue, opening a door for them to dredge up more complaints. She remained silent.

"The men report widespread racism amongst the defectors and blatant insubordination towards high-ranking alien officers." Sanson looked briefly at Captain Allenkar, a Calamarian sitting at the table. She was not used to reading emotions from aliens, and if the Captain was showing any anger with regard to this report, Sanson could not tell.

"The men need some sort of assurance that this instability will not result in chaos. We've been talking," Collins looked around the table at his fellow Republic captains, "and we think what this navy needs is a joint command."

Sanson smiled thinly at the comment. She was very aware that she was sorely outnumbered in this room. She also took careful notice of the language Collins had used to describe the Republic officers. He had used the word "men" to describe the navy time and time again. Sanson was aware more than most that if you removed the Imperial defectors from the navy, it would 40% female.

The whole report had been carefully given to draw a distinct line between Sanson and the rest of the commanders. The borders between Imperial and Republic, human and alien, and even men and women, were placed before her so she would know why she needed to relinquish her command.

Collins had finished his presentation and no one at the table was going to speak until Sanson addressed his report. The female admiral took a brief pause before replying. She looked at the officers, wondering whom they had chosen to join her in command. Though Collins was the group's spokesman, Captain Gencron was the most capable commander at the table.

"Don't you think that two Admirals would only divide the navy more?" she asked the expected concern.

"Does the fact that we have several hundred senators in our government's ruling body divide the people?" Captain Yun, a deeply tanned man from the exotic world of Trom, asked rhetorically. "It is a simple fact that every officer in the navy wishes representation."

"By your statement you not only claim that the navy is divided, but you wish to keep it so by creating two factions. Factions which you already claim are at each other's throats." Sanson had a direction she wished to take this conversation and the quickest route there was through injuring the captains' male pride. "Besides, don't you think the most qualified, capable individual should have the highest position in military? By expanding the command for the sake of political correctness, you introduce the possibility of less qualified personnel obtaining positions of authority."

"Are you saying that you are a better military commander than we are?" the hotheaded Captain Dwenqr said. The stout captain should have been an Imperial. His short temper and brutal methods of war would have made him very successful under the Emperor.

Ever since Sanson's entrance into the public spotlight, there had always been a playful bet between her and a group Republic senators wishing a rematch of military strategy. Sanson had willingly debated Imperial tactics versus Republic tactics at countless senatorial balls and galas. The senators had always claimed that Imperial tactics lacked actual strategy and simply relied on brute force. Sanson countered that the only Imperial strategy the senators were aware of was that of inept commanders.

"I am," Sanson replied.

After Wedge Antilles had been accused of treason and his rank stripped from him, the Republic was in need of a new Admiral. Captain Perry Tremon, had been Wedge's planned successor, but he had been found guilty along with Wedge, and there was no obvious choice among the remaining captains. The senate had voted, and with Snotzenexer's endorsement, Sanson won easily. There was a little hesitation at appointing a recent defector to such a high ranking position, but Snotzenexer had claimed that it would be the ultimate demonstration that the two long fighting governments were finally willing to make the past the past and put their differences behind them.

The Republic captains looked at each other, unable to believe that Sanson had just so bluntly claimed to be their superior. All notions of putting that challenge to a vote seemed ludicrous because Sanson had been appointed by a popular vote. The only avenue left for challenge was clear.

"Are you willing to put that claim to the test?" Collins asked carefully, worried the Admiral might say yes.

"What are you asking?" Sanson responded just as carefully.

"A test of military command skill," Collins replied.

"I hardly think that military command of the galaxy's largest navy should be put up for grabs, going to the winner of a game," Sanson said.

"It's hardly up for grabs," Captain Gencron argued. This was the only captain that Sanson in any way respected. If by some miracle, she lost this upcoming game, and Gencron was appointed Admiral, she would be able to cope. He would probably even accept co-Admiral status. "We are all equally qualified to lead this military. Besides we are at a time of peace and rebuilding, not a time of impending war where an unchanging command is important. You said yourself that the most qualified individual should lead the Republic Navy. We wish to make sure that is so."

"What kind of test?" Sanson asked, allowing a hint of curiosity to creep into her voice.

"A scrimmage," Collins said. "A simulated battle between recently united sides. We took incredible losses in the Danzig battle almost a year ago and have many new recruits. Most of these men have never seen military action of any kind. I'm sure your own men have grown dull after years of hiding and would also benefit from a few war games."

"So it would be all of you and your ships against me and mine. I hope you are not too out of touch with our situation to realize that I will be put at an incredible disadvantage."

"I'm afraid it is you who are out of touch, Admiral," Captain Allenkar spoke for the first time. "Though we have many more ships than you, we do not have the personnel to sufficiently staff them for battle, even if it is only a simulated one. I'm sure after you look at the numbers, you will find that both sides will be practically equal in firepower."

Sanson had already looked at the numbers. She and her husband had poured over all of the possibilities and had come up with numerous effective battle strategies. Sanson had always taken the back seat to her husband when it came to strategy and tactics. Snotzenexer had planned their rise to power, and Sanson had had little input into the matter. Now, however, Snotzenexer had helped with the initial planning but professed that he had too many other traps and snares to rig and monitor and could not be intimately involved in the upcoming war games.

They both realized that Snotzenexer had a superior intellect, but they both also realized that when it came to military strategy, Sanson was nipping closely at her husband's heels. Sanson had accepted the responsibility eagerly, and with only minor suggestions from Snotzenexer had plotted out the fall of the Republic Navy. She would need her husband's help to pick up the pieces and put them back together exactly how they wanted them, but she would take great joy in being the prime mover in the demolition.

Sanson did well to hide her smile as she accepted the terms put forth by the Republic captains. If the captains had not been so eager to prove themselves to a galaxy that had turned against them in favor of two newcomers, they might have questioned Sanson's willingness to go along with their idea. The Republic Admiral had nothing to gain from this scrimmage and everything to loose. She already held the support of the senate and had proven her skills in command through many acts against her former brethren as she had begun to clean out the remnants of the Empire, which were causing havoc on the edges of Republic space.

Sanson obviously had everything to loose, for if she did not emerge victorious, she would no longer hold command of the military. Even though Captain Gencron had respect for her, the chances that he would let her keep even a small portion of her former authority with the pressures of his fellow captains, were slim.

The military meeting was adjourned with a slight flourish as the five Republic captains rushed out of the room to begin preparing for the ultimate test. Sanson remained in her chair at the head of the table long after the room had cleared. She could not help but laugh at the men's stupidity. They would not win, and many of them would die in the upcoming war games, yet she was going to be able to emerge from the incident as innocent as she had been when she entered, with all the guilt of the tragedy falling on the six men who had orchestrated the event.

Sanson would have stayed in the silent room indefinitely, reveling in her success, but her baby monitor attached to her waist went off. Her infant son had just woken up and it was time for little David Snotzenexer's afternoon meal.

* * *

"What?! Eranadis Palpatine was outraged at his boss's suggestion.

"I said your first assignment will be that of a bodyguard." The chief pretended not to notice Eran's outrage at the humbling assignment. "Be happy the Association is willing to take you back at all. Frankly I do not know why they have. Since President Snotzenexer's rise to power, this system has been receiving so much attention. Organized crime has been more cautious than usual."

"Is that why I'm getting a baby-sitting job?"

"No, this is definitely a reprimand." The chief paused long enough to appreciate Eran's shock at the blunt statement. "We asked you to take a long vacation, and you did. Now if you want to start back with us again, you're going to need to climb back up the ladder."

"I need to earn my stripes! Is that what you're telling me? I was the best operative the Association ever had and still am. This is ridiculous." Eran had half a mind to storm out of the office and take up smuggling. A stupid idea, considering his lack of skill at piloting. Besides, with Snotzenexer's hold on the galactic trade market, it was hard for any entrepreneur to start up, much less a trader.

Eran took a deep calming breath. He had come back to the Association for one real reason. He had plenty of money, and only needed work to keep from being bored. The reason he had chosen his old employers was because it was a government run organization. The government in the Varion system was getting a lot of attention as the birthplace of Snotzenexer's political career. If Eran wanted access to Snotzenexer or those close to him, this was the best place to start.

"What is the job?" Eran asked, defeated.

"You should like this one. The client is a woman, and a rich one at that. Her name is Sandie Hollins."

"THE Sandie Hollins?!" Eran asked, not believing his fortune.

"No," the chief replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "She's only 'A' Sandie Hollins. She's having herself cloned for tax reasons. Yes, you moron, THE Sandie Hollins, acting president of the VIB."

The acting president of the Varion Imperial Bank, Eran thought, you can't get much closer to Snotzenexer than that. "What does she need protection from?" Eran asked, feeling there had to be a catch to a job this lucky.

"You've got me, buddy. I think everyone sees her as a hero, sort of like an extension of Snotzenexer himself. No one would gain from an assassination. But hey, I'm not going to look a gift rancor in the mouth. She's offering 3000 credits a day for an armed guard that can remain inconspicuous."

Eran was beginning to realize that while the title of this job was meant to downgrade his ego, in reality, this was a job for which the Association should use their best man. The normal fee for an armed bodyguard was anywhere from 100 to 1000 credits a day, depending on the availability of the client to outside attackers. Politicians who made numerous public appearances were usually protected for around 750 a day. Rich businessmen who were scared of jealous competitors were the ones down in the 100 to 250 range.

For someone to pay 3000 credits a day to protect themselves when no likely attacker existed was ludicrous. Of course since the client was Snotzenexer's financial representative, the Association had to take the job very seriously. Also the fact that Sandie had requested an inconspicuous guard meant the Association could not just use one of their two-meter tall, 100-kilogram brutes of which they had an endless supply. This job also needed someone who was good at concealing weapons, and Eran's ability to keep his two "borrowed" lightsabers hidden from countless security systems in the past few months was something he took great pride in.

"When do I start?" Eran asked, suddenly excited to begin his baby-sitting job.

"How quickly can you find your way to Iom," the chief responded.

"Can I get a company ship?"

The chief sighed, "You know, with as much as we pay you, it wouldn't hurt you to pick up a transport. Go on over to accounting and Danna will sign you out a ship. We better get it back this time."

Eran gave a reassuring wink to his boss and left the office, eager to get started on his new job.

* * *

Ghent walked into the restaurant feeling suddenly underdressed. All of the staff and most of the patrons were wearing formal attire. He was dressed in a smart suit made from material that cost more per meter than the most expensive meal in the restaurant. His tie was colorful, but not too loud.

"Sir," the hostess said inquisitively, drawing Ghent away from his contemplation, "do you have a reservation?"

"I'm meeting someone here. His name is Cog Fardin."

"You must be Quintil Harpinge," She said, grabbing a menu pad. "Follow me."

Coruscant had been very segregated under Imperial Rule, and even though those times were over two dozen years in the past, society still had not changed much. The restaurant was divided into a human section and an alien section. While both sections were equally equipped with all the amenities offered by the ten star restaurant, there was still a distinction.

Cog Fardin was sitting by a singled out table in the alien section. The table was obviously reserved for the restaurant's more distinguished alien guests. Cog watched Ghent walk toward the table as the man eyed the section he was entering. Ghent knew he was under surveillance and made sure to keep his emotions from showing as he watched all manner of aliens devouring all manner of delicacies, some cooked, some still moving.

Cog greeted Ghent with a toothy smile and a firm handshake as he sat down at the table. "Can I start you with something to drink, sir? Or maybe an appetizer?"

Ghent looked at the hostess, realizing he was going to have to make an impression on his potential employer. "I'll have a glass of yovein port and a cup of mating colns."

The hostess did her best to hide her surprise at the unusual appetizer. "Your waitress today will be Suelly, and she'll be by shortly with your order." With that she left.

"Colns," Cog said thoughtfully, "a Twi'lek delicacy." The head of the Trade Federation truly wondered if Ghent would have ordered them if he were dinning with someone else.

"I did some work for a Twi'lek owned company back in the Corporate Sector and afterwards they took me to dinner. I was bet I couldn't eat a pair. It was actually a very pleasant sensation."

"Sensation is a rather tame word to describe the experience of a really good pair of colns," Cog reprimanded. "It's more like a sensual euphoria."

True to the hostess' word, Suelly the waitress arrived with the drink and colns, though she hesitated when she saw that a human had ordered the crustaceans when a Twi'lek was also sitting at the table. She shrugged her shoulders and set the small cup in front of Ghent and left them to look at their menus.

There were ten colns in the cup with a divider in the middle separating the females from the males. They looked like stubby worms as they moved over each other. Ghent slid the divider down slowly, giving the top pair of colns access to each other. When they mated, they curled up like two pieces of macaroni, joining at the ends to form a small hoop. As Ghent picked up the mating pair, he tried to imagine it was just a breath saver. He popped it into his mouth and waited.

The mating process of the small creatures along with the warmth of Ghent's mouth caused the creatures to excrete a very strong fluid. Ghent was initially repulsed by the flavor, but the shock wore of quickly, and he found it to be suddenly very intoxicating. He swirled the small, shelled hoop about with his tongue, filling his entire mouth with the flavor until the creatures were spent. Ghent quickly swallowed the colns and chased them down with a sip of his wine.

"You do not chew them?" Cog asked inquisitively.

"Should I?" Ghent asked, not liking the idea very much.

"You're only getting half of the experience. Sure they taste great when they're in the throws of love making, but in death they're twice as stimulating. Their tiny teeth and claws grip onto your tongue like leeches, their bodies so recently in ecstasy and now in agony."

Ghent pushed the cup towards his interviewee, suddenly not so hungry. "Be my guest," he said.

Cog did, popping two of the pairs in his mouth. Ghent watched in horror as the Twi'lek crunched down on the four colns. Cog's lips parted do to the waves of euphoria that swept over him, and Ghent could see the small creatures writhing in agony behind the Twi'lek's clenched teeth.

Cog quickly finished off the remaining two pairs and then got down to business. "How did you hear of this opportunity?" Cog asked.

"A friend of a friend of a friend of a business associate," Ghent responded discretely.

Cog nodded, understanding his wish to keep his network secret. It was not really how he had heard about the job, only that he had and was here now. "I've researched you quite heavily after your request two days ago to meet. Quintil Harpinge, a self made multi-billionare in the software industry, not such an easy task." Cog looked at Ghent expectantly, but since he had not asked a question, Ghent did not offer an answer.

"The reports I've read said that almost all of your business dealt with tax computation software. I'm sure you realize that most of the work you'd be doing for me is more along the lines of market analyzing and scheduling." Again no question asked and no answer given. Cog liked this man. He was worth over 500 billion and was only about 40 standard years old. Still, he had the patience and caution of a man twice his age. "Do you feel you would have difficulty in adapting to a different system?"

The waitress came back, interrupting the conversation. Cog ordered his usual (whatever that was), while Ghent still had not looked at his menu pad. Ghent ordered a blackened 300-gram cut of Tolarian prime rib, steamed Isnid corn, and a medium portion of mashed gorgans. The waitress took their menu pads and replaced them with salads.

Ghent poured dressing over the salad as he answered the question. "The system will not be different," he said, getting an odd look from the Twi'lek, who had declined the salad. "If I am not mistaken, you are looking for someone to streamline your current setup to allow the addition of a 30% increase in expected traffic. If I were to tackle this job, my idea would not be to streamline the current system as much as I would try to redesign it using the existing hardware."

Ghent paused as he stuffed a forkful of greens in his mouth. "I am a software designer and programmer. I've researched you as well. You are not a programmer. You have a very impressive history of setting up elaborate financial systems, whether they be infant stock markets or commercial transportation networks. In all that you no doubt hired programmers to write code to execute your desires. The code then becomes the system. Any change to the system requires an alteration to the code.

"In your case, since I did not write the code and am not familiar with the logic used to develop it, I will not be able to streamline it. As I rewrite the code, I will be able to streamline the process in the same motion."

"I do not have the time or money to allow you to rewrite the entire system code," Cog said quite forwardly, no anger in his voice.

"Nor will you need it. You asked me if I would have a problem changing from a taxation system to a marketing system, and I told you they were the same system. Once you strip away all of the fluff, all we are talking about are numbers. Whether the numbers represent light years or gross national product, market price or tax refunds, they are all still just numbers. I have a system that I've been working with for about fifteen years and can write it forwards and backwards before most people can sign their name.

"My system handles numbers, pure and simple. All I will ask for is about 500,000 credits to hire several associates I have worked with in the past, and I will have your system overhauled in less than two weeks without disrupting the current system."

"Two weeks?!" Cog said, thinking the idea ridiculous. "Will you not sleep at all?"

"I will sleep, but not much. In order to get it done, though, I will need all barriers removed. I can not afford to be audited or document my activity. I must have no disruptions and the best hardware available on the market today. I will slip that in under the 500,000 credits. I do not want to have to give daily updates, and I will explain nothing of what I do until I am done."

Cog thought this man was being rather presumptuous. "Why should I agree to this?"

"Two reasons. I am the only person out there who can do this for you. I've worked with or competed against every advanced computer mind out there, and I will stand by my claim to be the best. The second is that I can give you increased capacity with a reduction in cost, making you a very rich man. Anyone else will give you increased capacity with increased cost, keeping you profit margin right where it is."

"How can you give me a reduction in cost with an increased capacity?"

"By automating everything that can be automated, I will eliminate the need of employees and the office space required to hold them."

"But you can not automate everything, we've tried. There are too many price checks and negotiations that need to-"

"I told you earlier that if I take this job, the only way I will be able to work effectively is to not have to explain my technique or procedures to anyone. This is why."

Despite Ghent's disrespectful attitude, Cog like the confident man. The meals arrived and the two of them began eating. "You realize that I'm putting my future in your hands," Cog said, using language to imply that he was indeed going to give the job to Ghent.

"Not really. It's more like you're putting the future of the Republic and President Snotzenexer's administration in my hands."

Cog nearly choked on his meat. The man was right. He only hoped he was doing the right thing.

Chapter 5 "The Great Pyramids"

Faye Badden cursed her employers at the Porvian Historic Museum. Why did they have to choose her? There were plenty of other archeologists that would have loved to come out into the middle of the dessert to look at a couple piles of rock. Not her, though. She was far more interested in jungle tribes and supernatural gods. The artifacts she had picked up five years ago deep in the jungles of Ahgst had really excited her. The tales of the supernatural creatures and mystic powers that surrounded the small idols she had found gave her a rush. She had held in her hands a piece of stone that, a thousand years earlier had brought unimaginable power to whoever possessed it along with the knowledge to use it. That was the kind of thing she liked to do.

Faye walked out of her tent and into the scorching, hot sun. The wind was mild today, and she did not need all of the wraps she usually wore to keep the sand off. Sure, she thought as she looked at landscape in front of her, the piles of rocks are awful, darn symmetric and awful, darn tall, but they were still just rock.

They should have an engineer here, she thought, not an archeologist. The pyramids were located in the heart of the Tarran dessert, well over 3000 kilometers from the nearest edge of the wasteland. Nobody lived more than a few dozen kilometers into the sand covered region for there was no water to be found anywhere. It was a small wonder then that seven years ago, when one of the guys down at NSADC (National Space Awareness Division of Callan) got bored looking up and looked down for a couple hours, the planet of Bersd got its first glimpse of the pyramids. No one had paid the dessert any attention, figuring it was just a big waste of land. Now satellites were buzzing over the Tarran Dessert with regular frequency, wondering what five stone pyramids big enough to be seen from space were doing in the middle of nowhere.

Faye had not been with the museum when they had sent their first team out here. That expedition had been very short. Five of the eight members of the team were killed in the first week. There had been no water, sandstorms every other day, and a heat that no one had been prepared for.

The public at large suggested that the museum and all other interested parties simply forget about the pyramids. The reasons for such views were mixed. The most popular reason, though, was fear. It was obvious that these structures were incredibly massive, and although they were not the tallest structures on the planet, they were by far the most awe-inspiring. The thing that scared most people was that there was no way of knowing how long they had existed, and no one could explain how they had been built.

It was plain from the first failed attempt by the museum, that survival in the heart of the Tarran dessert was not something that happened easily. How had anyone managed to build such enormous structures in those conditions? Most people wondered if the mechanical equipment existed now to build the structures, much less a thousand years or so ago, when the structures were guessed to have been built. There was no water available for the bricks that made up the pyramids. There were no food sources at all. If they were built by hand by some primitive culture, it would have taken thousands of people hundreds of years to build just one of the five structures, and that still did not explain how any of them survived to complete the project.

Faye held great respect for the pyramids, but her initial interest had died quickly. She enjoyed looking at them from a nearby dune in the cool of night. They were constructed very symmetrically with four smaller pyramids in a square and the largest one in the middle. The setting sun seemed to make them glow, as if they contained some magical power. All attempts at finding a door into the pyramids had failed, and they were only a couple days from trying to blast into one of the smaller ones.

A slight breeze picked up, and Faye drew her loose clothes about her. The wind grew stronger, causing the woman to look around her. She did not see the normal swirls of sand that usually accompanied the gusts of wind common to this dessert. Instead, this wind seemed to be very isolated to her area.

The wind was getting very strong now, and Faye had a feeling it was coming from above her. She looked up, but he blazing sun made her squint. Still, she could not see any ship, and none was due for another day. Soon the wind was so strong that others began to notice it. The sound was definitely that of a ship landing but it sounded to be at least ten times larger than the normal hovercopters that brought food, water, and supplies.

The sound and wind peaked, and Faye watched in amazement as three distinct depressions in the sand formed directly beneath the noise and only a dozen meters from where she was standing. A small crowd began to join Faye as the engine noise started to subside and the depressions hardened considerably under the weight of the invisible ship.

It was all over in a matter of seconds. Stillness reigned supreme among the group of about six Bersdens that gathered around the depressions. There were a couple religious fanatics that had been drawn to these mysterious pyramids and they were chanting slowly.

The cloaked Jade's Fire remained inactive for a few minutes while the occupants inside decided what to do about the crowd outside. "What will they think?" Wedge asked.

Anakin, Bep Fritz, and Vince Trimpo just shrugged their shoulders. Wedge had decided to bring along the two remaining members of the 185th because he figured they would be an excellent judge of any fighters they might find.

"Let's get this over with," Anakin finally said and walked over to the outer hatch, waiting for Wedge to activate the door.

The hatch to the ship opened, and the spectators saw a man in a sandy cloak standing in what looked like a door to another dimension. Anakin did not normally wear his Jedi robes, but figured them appropriate given the conditions of their visit. As Anakin stepped out into the sunlight, his light colored coat nearly glowed in the brilliance, while the dark lining kept his face shrouded in shadows.

The average Bersden is only about 1.6 meters tall and having Vince and Bep, both of whom were over two meters, trailing Anakin out of the ship was a bad idea. Seeing a radiant figure emerge from aa extra-dimensional portal followed by two giants, was not very comforting. Those Bersdens who had been chanting, now fell prostrate before the visitors. Everyone else other than Faye ran in fear.

Faye was awe struck by the sight, but was also a scientist ruled by common sense. She had witnessed the entire landing of the invisible ship, while most of the spectators had only experienced the gale wind at the end. While cloak technology was still a long way off for this civilization, Faye could imagine its existence.

The idea that these men could also be from another planet was not that far-fetched. Within the past 20 years, the planet's communication systems had become advanced enough to pick up radio chatter from beyond their atmosphere. Everyone had agreed that it would only be a matter of time before they left Bersd in search of life, or until life came to them.

Anakin, Vince, and Bep were now standing on the sand in front of Faye and the two worshipful natives, while Wedge was still coming down the ramp, making sure it would close after he had fully exited. Faye could see that they were alien. Something about their faces disturbed her. At a distance in the bright sun they might look normal, but as they got closer she could see something was wrong with them. Their eyes were a little too close together. Their skin was not quite green enough. Their mouths seemed to have only one row of teeth

"What on Bersd are you doing here?!" she found herself saying. The two kneeling members of the archeological team looked back at her with awe, and then turned their faces to Anakin to see his reaction.

The young Jedi smiled. The Republic probe in orbit over the planet had recorded enough of the Bersd culture to identify dozens of languages. Linguistic droids had then been able to decipher the languages and anyone could learn them if they wanted. Anakin had no idea which language they would encounter, so he had been forced to become familiar with all of them. Fortunately, he was the most gifted Jedi talent in the galaxy, and the languages did not present him with a problem.

"Don't worry," Anakin said in a calming tone, "we mean you no harm. We are here merely to learn."

"You're here for the pyramids then?" Faye asked frankly. It was now very obvious these men were not gods, and they appeared to carry no weapons. "Did you build them?"

Anakin shook his head. "We did not. We are here to see if we can find out who did." Anakin looked over at the great structures. Even in orbit, Anakin could feel the pulse of Dark power coming from them, and now there could be no mistake.

Faye nodded, looking over her shoulder to see what had become of her associates. She had suspected that the military had placed a few operatives in the group of scientists to keep a close eye on the proceedings, and now as she saw some of the scared would-be archeologists talking into military communicators, she knew this encounter would get violent before long.

"I'm afraid some of my people will not take kindly to your arrival."

"That is to be expected," Anakin replied. "All the more reason we should hurry."

Faye saw that these men were not threats and she nodded. "This way," she said and turned away from the invisible ship and began walking down the rows of tents towards the base of the mighty pyramids.

People ducked in and out of their tents as they passed. Wedge and the two members of the 185th had not understood a word of Anakin's conversation, but they trusted the Jedi enough to follow without question.

Right before the group made it to the roped off area that designated the protected archeological site, two men jumped out of their tents with automatic weapons pointed at the visitors.

"You will go no further!" one of them commanded. "You will wait here until reinforcements arrive and be taken into custody until which time we feel that you are no longer a threat."

Wedge desperately fought the urge to pull his concealed blaster. He understood that these men posed no threat to someone of Anakin's skill but still did not feel comfortable being unarmed in a potential battle situation.

"Cawrq, Rwents," Faye said sharply, addressing the two men, "these visitors are here in peace. They are on a quest for knowledge. If you were a true scientist you would understand that."

Rwents grunted. "If I was visiting another planet and wished to scout out its weaknesses before invasion, I would also come under a guise of peace."

"True," Anakin spoke up, "but would you land in the middle of the dessert to look at some stone pyramids."

The two military men had not heard Anakin talk before, and the fact that he knew their language was very shocking. In the moment of confusion, Anakin acted. With a wave of his hand, he sent the two weapons flying out of the men's hands. As they scrambled for a second gun holstered at their hips, the Jedi lifted them into the air with the Force and tossed them gently into the top of the nearby tent. The cloth structure collapsed, entangling the attackers and giving the four visitors a chance to move on.

Faye was utterly shocked at the display, wondering if she was not being a bit too trusting. Anakin stepped past her, sorry that he had to use such an obvious display of power to get past the men, but he sensed the coming aircraft of the reinforcements and knew he had to hurry.

"Let's go," Anakin said in Basic to his companions. "The local military will be here soon." The three secondary members of the party nodded and followed the Jedi as he walked forward quickly.

They were soon between two of the smaller pyramids and directly in front of the largest one.

"They look like ancient tombs for extinct gods," Vince said when he managed to catch his breath.

Anakin looked back at the young pilot with some respect and grinned. "A very accurate description, let's only hope they are extinct." Anakin was still smiling when he turned back to the pyramid in front of him. He raised his arms and everything became deathly still.

Faye was only now catching up to the foursome, and the two disarmed men behind her were just getting out of their tangled tent. All three of the natives stopped cold as they felt the buzz in the air. It felt like what you might expect to experience right before being struck by lightning. The air felt electric and powerful.

The three nearest onlookers could hear Anakin humming something to himself and could see his body swaying slowly as he threw himself into an intense trance. Soon the humming became too loud to just be coming from the Jedi, and the three men turned their attention to the huge pyramid in front of them. The perfectly shaped geometrical figure stood 150 meters high, and its base measured 240 meters along each side. The entire structure was vibrating, causing the enormous amounts of sand it had accumulated over the years to flow off it like giant avalanches of snow. Soon the mountain of rock was clean and the fine cut of each stone was visible, showing off its beautiful construction.

The vibration increased ten-fold now. Small cracks began to form in the huge structure along each of its diagonals. The top 25 meters of the pyramid began to separate slightly from the base and cracks began to appear in each of the faces, splitting the top into four sections. Each of these sections moved further and further apart until they began to descend down the tracks created along the pyramid's edges.

Each piece of the top moved down toward the ground, opening a large, square hole in the top of the mountain. Directly in front of them, a large section of the rock face began to move. When the four sections of the top were 10 meters from the ground, the section of the face began to descend also, moving out as it did, creating a ramp towards the four visitors.

When the movement was complete and Anakin lowered his arms, the pyramid looked totally transformed. The top was open and large enough for a medium sized freighter to fly into. The front of the pyramid behind the slab that had slid down was made of metal and clearly held a door to the inside of the Sith stronghold. The slab that had slid down had created a very even set of stairs for the guests to climb.

"Come," Anakin commanded, a slight strain evident in his voice. The four men moved up the stairs in silence, the three spectators still in awe of what they had seen. Faye and her two gun-happy friends did not dare follow.

"How did you open this up?" Wedge asked as they climbed the stairs. "You didn't use the Dark Side, did you?"

"There is no Dark Side of the Force," Anakin answered, "only Dark Side of the Force users. It is all a matter of whether you fill you mind with love or with hate." Anakin paused in front of the door at the top of the stairs. He concentrated for a moment, and the door slid open, releasing a very dry gust of air.

Inside the stronghold, the visitors saw that while the outside of the top of the pyramid had opened, there were still two heavy durasteel doors keeping the sun (and everything else) out. The interior of the structure looked much like a room in a space ship. There were clean metal walls and a few computer screens with no furniture, giving the entry way to the stronghold an eerie quality this deep into a barren wasteland.

The four men made their way to a turbo lift that had not been used in ages. It opened like it was brand new and was soon whisking its occupants deep into the bowels of the planet.

"Anakin," Vince spoke with respect, "it seems we are traveling well past the surface of the dessert. Is there nothing in the base of the pyramid of any value?"

"The base and the levels immediately below it contain endless stone passageways filled with cobwebs and booby traps and small tombs containing rotting corpses. They are only there to keep archeologists and scientists occupied while the real treasures of this stronghold remain hidden from curious intruders."

"How do you know this?" Bep asked, sharing the fears of his commanding officer that Anakin might be walking a very tight rope.

"This stronghold was sealed by one Sith, but he made its contents available to any of his brethren who might come looking for it. Because of that, he left instructions and information buried in the Force. It was difficult to work past the Dark emotions surrounding this place. A Sith would have embraced those emotions and been welcomed into the pyramid's secrets. I had to fight through them, but now I too have access to all of the Force records left behind."

The lift slowed down and stopped, opening its doors into another dry, stale room. This room was much different than before. It was made of dirt and stone, cobwebs hung about as abundant and thick as banners in a castle. The light was low, and the recesses of the large room could not be readily seen. Wedge activated a glow rod, and the three uniformed members of the party were frozen in fear. The room was filled with sarcophagi as far as the eye could see.

The turbolift was in the middle of the square room, and the stunned men walked slowly around the lift, looking at row after row of the burial caskets, finally seeing the outer walls of the room after at least a dozen rows. "There must be over a thousand of them," Bep said in a frightened whisper.

"There are only 500," Anakin said.

"Five hundred twelve," Vince dared to correct the Jedi, having done some quick row counting and multiplication in his head.

Anakin was never wrong with numbers, and his three friends watched as his eyes rolled back in his head as if accessing some hidden file in his mind. After a while, he smiled. "Apparently our Sith wasn't very good at counting."

Vince laughed and the young engineer began walking around the room making sure of his count and trying to figure out what was so special about the coffins.

"What is in them?" Wedge asked, growing excited at the prospect of obtaining advanced Imperial weapons.

Without a word, Anakin walked up to the nearest burial container and unceremoniously waved the lid open. The three onlookers stepped back when the contents were revealed. A mummy wrapped in very old, white ribbons stood stoically in the vertical coffin. The wrappings about the dead thing began to unravel, slowly at first, but with more vigor as Anakin fell into the Force. The body underneath was uncovered in sections, but nothing could be seen behind the flurry of ribbons until the task was completed.

Instead of a rotting corpse, something far more amazing stood in the mummy's place. "What in the..." Wedge started, examining what was truly within the coffins.

Wedge thought he knew what they were, but did not want to be right. They were large - almost 2.25 meters tall - mechanical exoskeletons shaped similarly to gray stormtroopers. Attached to both arms were mechanical weapons that could be interchanged with a variety of attachments. "Dark Troopers." Wedge finally admitted.

"What are we going to do with them all?" Vince asked, thinking he already knew the answer.

"Nothing," Anakin said solemnly, a deep chill evident in his voice. While the mechanical nightmares were frightening to look at, they were far worse when analyzed with the Force. The Young Jedi felt like he was surrounded by sleeping dragons, each of them with one eye half open, ready to wake up and consume him if he took one more step toward their hoarded treasure.

"Why can't we use them?" Bep asked.

"Remember how I said that there was no Dark Side of the Force, only the Dark Side of the Force users." Anakin motioned his arm to all the sarcophagi around him. "These Dark Troopers were cloned to be an extension of their controlling Sith's mind. They were created without a soul, using microchips and mechanics to take its place. Their minds are only capable of understanding hate and destruction. There is no way they would function correctly under my or even Uncle Luke's guidance. Ideas of love and compassion would probably short circuit their logic systems."

"Are there other weapons here we can use?" Bep asked, glad that the scary Dark Troopers would not be part of their future plans.

"Through there," Anakin pointed his hand and a section of the wall, not covered with sarcophagi opened, revealing another room beyond. Wedge, Vince, and Bep walked quickly between the rows of coffins and through the door in the wall. The outer room was round, roughly the size of the base of the pyramid above them and surrounded the smaller room they had just exited the same way that room had surrounded the turbolift.

The perimeter of the room was lined with TIE fighters and Interceptors. Before making any claims of how many there appeared to be, Bep waited for Vince's exact count. "Ninety-six of them, 24 Interceptors and 72 fighters."

In addition to the TIE's, several dozen turbo laser mounts were arranged along the inner wall. The laser howitzers were huge, and the energy source and targeting system looked far more advanced than what the Republic was currently using.

Bep's eyes were drawn back to the fighters. "Those aren't normal TIE's," Bep pointed out quickly. He and Vince had probably seen more TIE fighters up close than anyone else in the Republic other than Jon Poncho, their missing comrade. While they looked a whole lot more familiar as orange, red, and yellow balls of flame, these ships in front of them were still obviously different from the normal TIE. Even after working under Sanson to build a more advanced TIE, these crafts looked far more advanced than any other Imperial craft either 185th member had ever seen before.

"V-38's," Wedge said calmly, trying to keep his excitement from showing.

"Very funny," Vince said, turning to look and see that his Admiral was not showing an expression one normally likens to joking. "You're serious?"

For once Anakin was confused. The Sith had left behind an inventory of what was in the stockhold, but no explanation on what was so special about the fighters. Wedge turned to Anakin. "V-38's are a cloaked TIE." Wedge started to say more but realized he probably had the galaxy's expert on the subject present and he might as well let him do the honors.

"Lieutenant?" Wedge turned toward Vince for explanation.

"Thank-you, sir. A cloaking device erects a shield that hides an object from sensory or optical detection. It is able to bend light and all other waves around the shield, much like water flowing around a rock. While this makes the object totally invisible to any observers, it also leaves the object inside the shield in the dark. There have been numerous attempts to try and fix this problem, but nothing has ever made it past the drawing board.

"Thrawn was able to use them effectively because he employed the talents of C'baoth to guide his cloaked pilots, allowing them more input than their blind ships could give them. Pellaeon tried to use a Computerized Combat Predictor to calculate and predict ships' trajectories so that when a ship cloaked, it would still be able to guess where its enemies where. That project failed miserably. Today, no adequate method for incorporating cloaked ships into battle has been shown to be effective. Very few pilots have the skill, or should I say Force ability, to fly a cloaked ship."

"And V-38's?" Anakin asked.

"They are the one exception," Vince continued, sounding like a college professor giving a memorized lecture. "They were designed a long time ago, but have all been wiped out, and the technology went with them. Later attempts at reproducing the fighters have proved futile."

"But how do they work?" Bep asked.

"The V-38's take advantage of the fact that a cloaking shield is spherical. The design was originally intended for TIE fighters but was far more effective on TIE Interceptors. Fighters have very small batteries and rely on their solar panels to absorb energy during a fight. I'm sure you can imagine the problem when you cloak a TIE fighter and rob it of its energy source. An Interceptor has a much larger battery that is comparable to that of an X-Wing or Y-Wing.

"The process involved uses multiple cloaking devices, three in fact, one for each of the wings and one for the central pod. The Imperial designers adjusted the size of the middle shield to perfectly match the central pod and of the outside shields so they did not overlap into the central one. The problem with most ships is that they are not spherical, and in order to cover the entire ship you need a huge shield. Because the shield around the central pod of the V-38's was the same size as the pod, tiny transparent antennas that extended outside of the cloaking shield were attached to the pod. These antennas make up the whole design. Other ships have tried to mimic this technique, but because their ships are not spherical, their antennas have to stick out much too far to get outside the cloak and are then too big, showing up on enemy radar.

"The antennas used on the V-38's were hair thin and transparent but were able to pick up light rays and reproduce a simulated replication of what the pilot would have seen if his ship was not cloaked. They were kind of like periscopes for subships. They were also able to send out weak sensor echoes so the pilot's targeting computer would be able to function. These antennas were made out of a secret material or took advantage of a manufacturing technique that has been lost because every attempt I've ever seen to reproduce them has turned out to be a failure. Most attempts result in antennas that are not only visible on enemy radar, but also do not give the pilot nearly enough information, putting him in a much worse condition than if he were to simply fly uncloaked."

"So the effect is like flying in a simulator?" Bep asked.

"Not entirely," Vince responded. "It's true that the image you see in the cockpit is not as clear as what you would see under normal circumstances, but it still looks very real. It would be similar to if your view panel was a little cloudy. Plus simulators can't reproduce acceleration and momentum like the real thing. I'm sure if you were to fly one, you wouldn't for a moment think you were in a simulator."

"It's great that we have ships now," Anakin said, turning to Wedge. "But what are we going to do for pilots?"

"One thing at a time," Wedge responded. He was just as excited as Vince about the V-38's and had not thought that far in advance.

"If we need pilots, what about those guys?" Bep asked, pointing back to the room with the Dark Troopers. Anakin shuddered.

Vince ignored the continued conversation having immediately gone over to one of the TIE Interceptors after his speech. He was nearly thrown from was feet as the floor shook and dust rained from the ceiling. "What was that?"

"I'd have to guess it's the local authorities," Anakin said with disappointment showing through his voice. "I doubt they are too happy with our arrival."

Anakin looked up at the ceiling, searching with the Force to see if this stronghold had any defensive measures that would not wipe out the entire population around the pyramids. "I'll go up top and have a look," Anakin said. He made his way back to the turbolift and whisked back up to the top of the pyramid. The lift did not stop at the previous entry point but continued up past the double doors and onto the top of the flat pyramid.

Anakin was awed at the military display that was going on around the five pyramids. Tanks and troops had been airlifted into the dessert by huge hovercopters. Those same air vehicles were now circling the collection of stone mountains, all manner of machine guns hanging out of their open doors and several tons of missiles hanging from short wings. The tanks were impressive with massive barrels and thick, steel skeletons. The swarms of troops were racing to set up rocket launchers and more machine gun turrets to battle what ever it was that had arrived on their planet. Jets were streaking through the sky above the pyramids like birds of prey, preparing to spread their hail of destruction on anything that showed itself.

Anakin Solo had shown himself. The anxious military commanders allowed no chance for any type of explanation. As soon as the brightly cloaked man emerged from the top of the largest pyramid, the word was given to open fire. Every machine gun fired. Every other missile and rocket was let loose. The jets strafed the lone figure as they passed by the pyramid at mach speeds. Nothing came close. Everything exploded or was repelled when it came within 20 meters of the powerful Jedi. Anakin could have never hoped to erect such a strong shield on his own with so little notice, but the pyramid had a built in safety measure that was augmented by the Force user it protected. And Anakin was a very impressive Force user.

The hail of ammunition ceased after the short two-second burst to see what kind of destruction they had yielded. Anakin did not waste time giving the army a second chance and quickly disappeared back down into the pyramid.

The three men waiting below had felt the trembling during the brief firing session as the sounds of mass destruction shook the ground above them. The sudden silence scared them even more profoundly and only the return of Anakin shook them from their trance of fear. "It is time we leave."

The four men piled back into the small turbolift and began a trip back up. "Wedge, do you have Mara's remote to her ship?" Anakin asked.

Wedge nodded. "Do you want me to bring it up to the top of the pyramid?"

Anakin shook his head violently. "It'll get blown out of the sky, and Mara will never forgive you. Take it directly into space when I give the word."

"How are we going to get off this dust ball without the ship?" Bep asked.

Anakin did not answer, but waited for the doors of the turbolift to open, revealing what looked like a bridge to a space ship.

Anakin turned to Vince and Bep. "You guys think you can fly this?"

"It's a ship?" Bep asked, not believing his eyes.

"It can fly, but I wouldn't call it a ship. Can you fly it?" Anakin repeated himself.

Bep and Vince walked quickly over to the main controls of the bridge and fiddled with a few of the knobs and switches. The room came to life with blinking lights and small beeps. "I think so." A small seat rose from the floor, and Bep used it. He and Vince took a short while to familiarize themselves with the controls. All the text was written in some ancient Sith language, a course which was not offered at the Republic officer training academy, but they managed to recognize key controls quick enough.

"What are you going to do?" Wedge asked.

"Try to hide the Jade's Fire from the enemy. They might not be able to see it, but trust me, with as much firepower as they have out there, they wouldn't miss. Besides, I half to prep this baby for launch."

As Bep and Vince began to ready the ancient shuttle for launch, the outside of the central pyramid began to undergo more drastic changes. If the planet of Bersd had more than one season, the spectators would have likened the sight to that of a flower in springtime. The sides of the pyramid opened like pedals on a blooming plant, revealing the rigid cone of the huge shuttle underneath. The large outer door appeared as only a tiny hatch on the gigantic missile. As Bep ignited the never before activated thrusters, the ground around the four minor pyramids exploded into geysers of fire, releasing the energy of the rockets. Soldiers scrambled away from the eruptions as the ground could not contain the immense heat from below.

The cone rose slowly into the air, followed closely by the rest of the shuttle as it crept out of its tomb. As they emerged from the pyramid, the huge thrusters incinerated the numerous machines and weapons that were left unattended by the soldiers who were scrambling for cover. The terrific energy hurtled the long shuttle into the atmosphere.

Inside the middle of the shuttle, the men hung on for dear life, as the ride was not exactly smooth. The G-forces were incredible, and it was all Bep and Vince could do to just keep the cone of the rocket pointing up and into space.

The ride became smooth quickly as the air around the rising shuttle became thin and then non-existent. Bep and Vince operated the sensors, located the Jade's Fire, which Wedge had brought into orbit uncloaked, and moved in close enough to dock with the ship. The huge missile dwarfed Mara's ship as it pulled along side. Bep extended a huge docking sleeve toward the cargo hangar of the modified freighter and secured the connection.

The experienced pilot put the shuttle's side thrusters on autopilot so the computer could automatically sense the tension on the docking sleeve and correct any stress on the seal. "Well, gentlemen," Bep said after completing the procedure, "What do we do now?"

"I believe this shuttle has a hyperdrive, though it has no nav com. I'll fly it back to Yavin IV, while you guys go back in Mara's ship. You'll almost definitely beat me home, so you can start preparing to go through our new cargo."

The friends said brief good-byes, loaded into their respective ships, and took off for home.

Chapter 6 "An Array of Idiots"

Luke sat down in front of the communicator and waited for a line to the outside to become available. When the Jedi Master got a green light, he punched in the frequency for his Trade Federation contact. Luke slipped his TFR credit voucher into the expense field, and his call was placed.

As the connection was being established, Luke looked around the small, private com station. He and Han were on the moon orbiting Welfan 6 at a trader's resort. The Trade Federation had set up numerous resorts for its pilots, trying to make them feel special and respected. In reality, the over priced bars and rigged chance games were an effort to reclaim the low wages the Federation paid its pilots.

Luke had his female disguise ready when the holo-com connected, but found the other side was sending audio only. Luke was not sure if it was also only receiving audio and kept up his disguise just in case. "This is Delan Fowlry, TFR 104-21-006, reporting in."

Luke waited for the automated response. "TFR 104-21-006, please authenticate your Trade Federation Trader."

"Han Solo, TFT 104-28-328," Luke replied.

"Thank-you, TFR 104-21-006. Your contact will be with you shortly."

Luke tapped his fingers on the console impatiently as the wait turned into minutes. This is so impersonal, Luke thought. At least with the old regime you were always talking with a person.

"Hello, Miss Fowlry," a man's voice suddenly came from the other end of the com. There was still no picture coming in, but Luke's terminal showed he was transmitting visual and it was being received.

"I'm sorry sir," Luke said, "but it seems your visual isn't coming through."

"That's not surprising," was all Luke got for a response. "My name is Cactun Gell, TFC 444-06. I'll be your Trade Federation Contact, until you are notified differently. I appreciate you taking time out of your day to talk with me. I imagine keeping up with Solo can be a full time affair."

There was something very odd about Cactun. His voice sounded strange, almost as if it were strained. Plus, he was being rather chumish, as if they were old friends and Han a mutual acquaintance. "Solo has acted no different than expected," Luke responded curtly, remembering his cover. He was posing as a Frolian female. Frolians were very efficient and punctual.

"Of course he has," Cactun said, almost chuckling. "Why should he misbehave? His colored past his well behind him, and I suppose all smugglers slow down with age. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if he still had a few tricks up his sleeve."

"Tricks, sir?"

"Ah, you're probably right. He's harmless. So how did the first shipment go?"

"Nothing unusual, sir. Payment was accurate and in accordance with current pricing. The shipment was picked up on schedule and delivered six hours ahead of schedule."

"That's Solo for you, always pushing the envelope. I bet he's got that Falcon soupped up something special."

Luke was beginning to believe that this Cactun Gell and Han had some sort of history. "Is there something wrong with Solo, sir? Am I correct in understanding that he is on a probationary status? Shouldn't this deter him from any flagrant activity?"

"Quite right, quite right, my dear. In fact, that probationary status will be dropped just as soon as I can work the datacards through the system. That means you are his only check if he screws up."

"Sir, do you expect Solo to screw up?" Luke was beginning to get suspicious. On the outside this guy seemed like just an old fan of the retired general, but Luke's Jedi senses could pick up something else. What had sounded like a strained voice now felt like a scrambled voice. Why would anyone scramble their voice pattern? Delan Fowlry had only spoken to Cog Fardin and his secretary. Surely Fardin was not on the other end of this line trying to disguise his voice. Luke did not even think he would be able to recognize the Twi'lek's voice if he did hear it again.

"He might, he might," Cactun said suddenly sober. "He just might. Why don't you get to know him. See if he has any ulterior motives. Could you do that? Thanks. We'll talk again in a week. Bye."

What an odd man, Luke thought as he closed the connection.

* * *

Han walked into the bar, wondering if he was going to need a lightsaber to get through the thick smoke. Chewie grumbled about the thick smell getting into his fur. "If you don't like it, you don't have to stay, buddy." Chewie ignored the comment and made a straight line to the holo-chess games.

Han picked up a drink at the bar and sauntered over to the corner of the room where the visibility was a bit better. There were three sabacc tables going and Han already had his picked out. The old smuggler had thought he recognized one of the ships in the hangar and now saw that there were two people on this moon he knew.

Treg Nyugt, a Sullustan who had been a friend to Nien Nunb, Lando's copilot at Endor, was sitting at one table with Derran Speedsting. Han was not sure if Derran's last name was fictional or not, but the former smuggler had used it his whole career. Han could not think of a better name for a smuggler on the run with a fast, powerful ship like Derran had. The smuggler had played his last name up for everything it was worth back in the days, getting more jobs and women than anyone else. Han had always thought his own last name fitting too, until he had met Leia, that is.

Treg looked up from the game momentarily, catching sight of Han approaching the table. The Sullustan blinked his large eyes repeatedly, not believing who he was seeing coming through the smoke. "Han Solo," Treg said amazed.

"What are you talking about him for?" Derran asked perplexed, his back to the approaching Solo. "Why he's the most dried-up, would-be pilot there ever was. I could out rac-"

"It's nice to see you too, Speedsting," Han said as he stood over the human.

Derran turned about in his chair so fast, he showed his hand to all at the table. Everyone promptly folded. "What in the Maw are you doing here? I figured you to be on a beach somewhere playing with your grandkids."

Han took an empty chair at the table where there were already four players. "Nobody said you could sit down, Grandpa," Derran said hotly, still flustered at Han's appearance.

Han looked at the rest of the table. There was Treg, a Quarren, and a boy who looked younger than Anakin. "Any of you mind if I bring my credits to this table?" Treg smiled, eager to get caught up with an old Rebellion friend. The Quarren shook his head, happy for a full table, and the boy was just awe struck at Han's presence.

"My name's Kyle Grentic," the boy offered his hand to Han. "I just joined the Federation last week. It's a pleasure to meet you, General."

"Trying to make a number for yourself, eh?" Han said. The kid looked confused by the statement, but Treg and the Quarren laughed at the joke. It used to be important to make a name for yourself in the independent lifestyle of a trader, but now the Trade Federation cared more about your ID number.

"He's not a general anymore, kid," Derran jumped in. "Ol' Gramps here is retired."

Han turned to address Derran's insults finally. "Speedsting, I have three kids and no grandchildren yet."

"Not for a lack of trying," Derran grumbled. "Enough chatter, let's play some sabacc."

"Player five has not entered his credit voucher for play," the dealer droid announced.

Han pulled out his pay voucher from his last shipment and slid it in the slot on the side of the table. "Solo enters the game with 2,800 credits."

"Twenty-eight hundred!" Derran screamed loud enough for the whole bar to hear. "What do you think this game is? This isn't like those friendly games you've been playing up in the Coruscant Palace, you know."

Han looked at the digital display in front of Derran to see the man had over 10,000 credit in this game. All the other players had less than 5,000 and 2,800 was not that low. "Sorry, Speedsting, but the Federation isn't paying as well as it should."

Derran almost fell out of his chair at that one. "You've joined the Trade Federation! Now I've seen it all! How the mighty have fallen, eh, Squid Head."

The Quarren said nothing but motioned to the droid to get on with the next hand. Han received two card-chips and realized they were playing a very old game. He held a seven of staves and the Endurance card. The rules of sabacc changed often with the many variations of the game out there, but ever since the Rebellion the 16 face cards had been changed from the old style.

The new face cards were developed to remind the galaxy that there had been a dramatic change in the way of thinking. The old face cards, and the ones they were playing with here, were the Idiot, Queen of Air and Darkness, Endurance, Balance, Demise, Moderation, The Evil One, and The Star. The new ones were the Idiot, Rancor, Jedi Knight, Bounty Hunter, Smuggler, Dark Jedi, Lord of the Sith, and Jedi Master. These new face cards obviously represented members of the Rebellion and the New Republic, and Han had always felt proud that his persona had been represented among with the Jedi.

Han looked over to the dealing droid. It was an MT-200. The first dealing droid produced for sabacc had been an MT-100. The last game Han had played had been run by an MT-5000. The 200 model was not even capable of randomization. This game was going to be old school and straight up.

The Quarren started the betting with a moderate raise of 10; everyone met the bet until it got to Han. His hand of -1 did not look too promising and he folded right away. "Solo folds in the first phase, adding five to the sabacc pot," the droid dealer announced.

Han was used to it only being one credit for folding, but shrugged as he watched the holo image of the sabacc pot grow to 10 credits. The hand pot worked itself up to 300 before Derran won it with a 22, one away from a pure sabacc.

The next few hands went poorly for Han. He bombed out once with a 24, having to pay the hand pot, 64, into the sabacc pot. He almost always folded before the call, and was the main contributor to the sabacc pot, which was growing faster than normal.

After Han bombed out for the second time in six hands, paying 200 to the sabacc pot, Kyle tried to engage the legend in some conversation. "So how does the Trade Federation compare to smuggling, Han?" The kid sounded very uncomfortable using Han's first name, but did not want to call him general again.

Derran laughed out loud at the question, and Han felt like doing so also. "There is no comparison, kid," Han said gruffly as he looked at his cards, an ace of coins and a mistress of staves. They totaled to 28, another potential bomb out. Han let his disgust show as Derran raised a presumptuous 50. "The Federation is a sham. The pay is too low and the scheduling sucks." Han watched as the Quarren and Kyle folded. Treg met the bet and it was Han's play. He had half a mind to fold again, not wanting to get caught with a bomb out with such a high hand pot.

Any time you had a total that was higher or lower than positive 23 or -23 respectively, you had to pay the hand pot into the sabacc pot. The winner of each hand cleared the hand pot, but it took an array or pure sabacc to win the sabacc pot.

Han had had enough of Derran, and met his 50. Derran declined another card, and Han knew he had 21 or 22. He might even have a pure sabacc, but Han doubted it. The longer Derran played the hand, the better chance either Han or Treg had to get an array and beat Derran for the sabacc pot, which was now up to 648. If Derran had a 23, he would not risk it and would have called by now. Instead, he raised another 50, causing Treg to fold.

Han looked at his new card, an eight of flasks. He now had 36, still a bomb out, but a much better hand than before. Now any one of six of the face cards would put him at or right under 23. Han matched the bet, and kept his dejected face. Everyone at the table knew that Han was over 23 and that Derran had a great hand, it was just a question of how long Derran would string the former general on.

Derran again declined a card, happy with the two he had and Han received the Demise card with a value of -13. He now had a pure sabacc, but his face looked like he had just picked up another ace. Derran saw that he was running out of time and Han would fold any time now.

"Well, buddy," Derran said, laying his cards on the table, showing a 22, "what do ya got. A 40? A 50?"

Han faked extreme agitation as he tossed three of his cards onto the table. Everyone quickly added up his cards to 36, and then waited for him to throw his fourth. When the last card landed upside down in front of Derran he turned it over for only him to see. The old smuggler leveled a stare at Han before he showed the card to the dealer.

"Solo has a pure sabacc and wins both the hand pot and sabacc pot. Speedsting called and lost, and must pay the hand pot of 255 into the sabacc pot."

"Can it Empty," Derran said to the MT-200. He realized that Han had let him build the hand pot up so high just so Derran would have to pay it into the sabacc pot before Han cleaned them both out.

The Quarren laughed heartily at sight, and soon Kyle and Treg joined in. "Har, har," Derran mimicked sarcastically, watching the huge holo credit stacks disappear from both pots and Han's credits grow by over 1,200.

"So what do you really think about the Trade Federation?" Treg asked as the next hand was dealt. Everyone realized that Han's sour mood had just been a rouse to trick Derran and now it was over.

"I think we need to get them to address our rights as traders," Han replied, raising 10 credits after looking at his hand.

"Like what?" Kyle asked, matching the raise.

"Well, for starters, most shipping companies own their own ships. This requires a huge capitol investment on a corporate level, and it takes a long time to recover that cost without sending freight costs through the roof. The Federation has it made. Every week they get a dozen more traders and they each come with a free ship. The Federation hasn't had to put forth one credit towards any type of investment. I say they should allow us each an expense line to make improvements to our ships.

"I'm sure we've all spent a fortune upgrading our ships with our own money, but that was back when we were hauling our own cargo. Now we are hauling the Federation's cargo and any wear and tear on our ships should be compensated through them."

"It'd be in their best interest," Kyle agreed, folding out of the hand. "I mean if they give me money to improve my sublight drive, it's going to mean faster shipments for them."

"It's the same as if they owned the ships. They wouldn't ask the pilots to pay for upgrades on the ships; they'd pay for it themselves. This is the same thing without the initial capitol investment on the Federation's part."

"Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this," Treg said, as he won the pot.

"Yea," Derran added, having just bombed out and paying the sabacc pot to the tune of 160, "is the Falcon in need of another overhaul?"

Han ignored the negative comment, remembering why he had really sat down at this table. "You still flying that Nubian chill freighter, Derran?"

The man nodded, raising 100 on the next hand and watching everyone fold.

"That's a great ship," Han explained to the rest of the players. "Tell, me, Derran. Do you get any bonus for being able to ship chilled product? The most expensive electronic equipment out there almost always has to be shipped at 40 below. Plus you are able to ship meet and frozen foods. Those are expensive commodities. The Federation is making a lot of money off your ship, but I bet you aren't making any more than the rest of us."

Derran's face was starting to change its expression. At first he thought Han was just sounding like a politician, and he was about to make a joke about Han hanging around with all the senators, but now he realized that Han had a good point.

"It costs a lot of money to keep your ship running, doesn't it?"

Derran nodded as the cards were dealt out for the next hand.

"If the Federation had bought that ship, they would treat it with incredible care. Instead you sort of gave it to them for free, and now they aren't even going to help pay maintenance."

The players were quiet for a while. "What did you mean a while back when you said the scheduling sucked?" Kyle asked after two hands of silent play.

"Where are you from?" Han asked back.

"Coruscant," he replied.

"Do you have a girl, or maybe family back home?"

"Both," Kyle responded, smiling broadly.

"Instead, you're spending your time out here, a good five days from Coruscant. I bet the traders running the routes around Coruscant right now are from out here. The Federation computers that schedule traders for shipments don't bother to look where the traders are from, they just take the nearest, first available ship. This means that since there is no conscious effort to keep you near Coruscant, you could theoretically not get back home for years.

"We don't get vacation time, because they tell us we will occasionally have a day or two between shipments. Even if you had four days between shipments, you still wouldn't even be able to make it home, much less spend any time there."

Like Kyle had said, he only started a week ago, but was already getting home sick listening to Han talk. Derran laughed as he laid down a fool's array, taking both pots. The sabacc pot was mostly his money anyway, but it was still considerable. "Ah, it'll be good for the kid to get away for a while."

Han realized that most traders were like Derran, men without a home. They could care less about the schedule. "What about your weapons?" Han asked as the next hand was being dealt.

"What about them?" Derran responded, suddenly defensive.

Han knew that his own stash of illegal weapons aboard the Falcon paled in comparison to Derran's collection. "Have you looked at the Federation's list of illegal weapons?"

"My TFR is a moron," Derran replied. "He couldn't tell a Gamorean disrupter from a Corellian sling. Besides, my weapons are more like an art collection than for actual use."

"That's because you haven't been hit by pirates yet," Han said.

"Pirates?" Kyle was still recovering from the idea that he might not see home for a long while and now had to deal with pirates.

"Pirates wouldn't dare attack my ship."

"Why not?" Han asked. "They know that you're not allowed to carry anything but a heavy blaster. Heck, even Chewie's bow caster is illegal. And what about your ship? There are only certain weapon modifications allowed on the ships also. Pirates know this. They also probably have the ability to slice into the Federation's shipping schedule. Not only does the Trade Federation not help you maintain your ship, but they won't allow you to protect it either."

"I'm sure no TFR would report you for illegal weapons if it saved their butt from pirates," Treg put in.

"You haven't met my TFR," Han replied. He looked over his shoulder and saw Delan Fowlry sitting at the bar fending off two drunk men.

"That's your TFR!?" Kyle said, suddenly more envious of Han than ever before.

"I bet you've gotten to know her real well," Derran said, grinning lewdly. "Haven't you?"

"Only every night of the trip over here," Han said with a straight face.

"Your bluffing," Derran responded, knowing about Leia.

Han looked at his hand and raised 200. "Am I?"

Derran never looked down as he keyed in to match the bet. "Call."

Han flopped his hand of 14 on to the table and watched Derran's hand of 20 take the pot.

"What are we supposed to do about it?" Kyle asked.

"Do about what?" Derran asked.

"The injustices in the system," the kid responded.

Derran just laughed at the naive youngster eating up everything Han was feeding him.

"The only thing we can do," Han said, looking at his two cards and suppressing a smile. "There is strength in numbers. We need to band together and form a-"

"A Union," Derran finished for him. Derran had noticed the suppressed grin and raised 25 to test Han's hand. "You want to form a blasted Union?!" Derran had a hand with an Idiot and an eight, not a great hand, but any ranked card would put him in the low twenties.

Han was looking at The Star and an ace, one card away from a Nova array. He met the 25 and reraised to 50. The other players realized this was a hand between Han and Derran and respectfully folded. Derran met the reraise and both players took another card.

Derran was now looking at a six, a three, and the Idiot. An Idiot's array was made up of the Idiot card and any two and three, making a literal 23. Derran watched Han's face fall slightly as he looked at his next card. Derran knew Han was playing with him again. He was pretending to try for some type of array, and would meet any of Derran's bets, only to bet the maximum on the final raise to make Derran drop out. Derran was not going to fall for it.

Han had not gotten the other ace needed for the Nova array. He had gotten a 10. In the old style of sabacc all of the face cards had an array. The Idiot's array was by far the most common, but each face card had one. Unlike the Idiot card, the other face cards had two different versions of their array. There was a straight array, which involved only three cards. Then there was a pure array, which added a fourth card to make the array's total equal 23. A Nova array involved two aces and The Star card. Since the aces were each worth 15 and The Star was worth -17, the fourth card for a pure array was a 10.

Derran raised the maximum bet right away, 500 credits. Derran was only representing nine, but he was sure Han was waiting for one more card. Han only had eight, but met the bet and actually reraised 250. Derran met the bet and asked for another card. He dropped his six and picked up a two. He was now looking at an Idiot's array, his second of the night, and with two pots for the taking totaling over 3000 together.

What Han did took Derran totally by surprise. Instead of dropping a card and picking up another one, Han took a fourth card into his hand. Again Han let his face fall briefly. Since Derran knew Han could keep a straight face through the best hand ever, he had expected Han to show jubilation at his last card so he could bluff the last bet. Now, with four cards in Han's hand, Derran had no idea what his opponent was up to. Han raised 500.

In any other situation, Derran would be worried. There was a huge pot at stake and Han had played his face tells in such a way as to totally confuse Derran. He was supposed to be bluffing, but no one showed an ugly face when bluffing, that was too obvious. Still, with four cards in his hand, Han could only be representing a 23. Derran had an Idiot's array. That had to win.

Derran met the bet and called. He laid down his cards with very little flair, despite the "ooh's" from the other players. Even the Quarren made an audible reaction to the hand and the pots it could win.

Han laid down his cards one at a time. First the ace of cups, then the ten of flasks. When Derran saw the two cards totaling 25, he breathed a sigh of relief. Han's only play now was to come back with a face card to hit 23. The third card told him he had lost. Han laid the ace of flasks next to the ten making the total on the table 40. The only card that could bring that back to 23 was The Star, and with the two aces on the table . . .

"A Nova array," Kyle said breathlessly.

No one needed to see Han's last card. Everyone knew he had not been bluffing. "A pure Nova array," the MT-200 corrected when it finally saw Han's last card.

"Good play, Solo," Derran managed to say, totally humbled. It was only after the MT-200 announced the scoring that he realized he had called and lost again, forcing him to pay the hand pot into the sabacc pot before Han took it all. The two pots totaled over 7000 and Han resisted the urge to gloat over his old smuggling associate.

Instead, Han took his winnings and checked out of the game. "It's been fun talking with you guys. Think about what I said. See you around." With that, Han turned toward the bar, picked up his female brother-in-law and his holo-chess-playing Wookiee, and left the building.

* * *

There were three at the breakfast table this morning.

For the first time, it was Alex Snotzenexer that was trying futilely to get his wife's attention as opposed to the other way around.

"Jill, could you put the child down for a moment and listen to me?"

Sanson reversed her grip on their son so both mother and child were looking at Snotzenexer. "What's a matter, Daddy?" Sanson asked, mimicking her infant's voice. "Don't you love me anymore?"

Snotzenexer could sense the playfulness in his wife's voice and knew the accusation was not serious. "No, David," Snotzenexer replied, speaking to his son and playing the game, "never that. It's just that your mother and I need to discuss things that are a bit above your head."

Sanson flipped the baby around, made a few faces at him, and placed him gently in his chair. "What is so important that it has to interrupt our son's breakfast?"

Snotzenexer decided not to bring up the point that their son had stopped eating his breakfast many minutes ago and only Sanson's constant cooing and gurgling was keeping him awake. "How is the scrimmage coming along?"

Sanson turned serious for a moment. "The captains have been laying down all of the rules and guidelines for the attack. The have made up damage simulators and are equipping all of their ships with light weapons. They have also alerted the media to the event and the networks are scrambling for coverage rights. It seems they want the whole galaxy to know who should be ruling the military and they want them to see it live."

"I couldn't agree more," Snotzenexer smiled. "And how are our troops doing?"

"The three clones are busy training the rest of our pilots and everyone is studying the battle histories we discussed. The scrimmage is in one week and we shall be ready."

Snotzenexer paused in his questions and took another bite of food. Sanson took the opportunity to ask a few questions of her own. "And how is the banking business going?"

"Splendid. I've talked with the President of the Coruscant Galactic Bank and he couldn't be happier with the idea of a merger. There are still a few board members that are scared they will disappear after the merger. While the Varion Imperial Bank is smaller than the CGB, the VIB has far more prestige right now. Even though I am trying to convince them that neither bank is going to swallow the other and it will be an even merger, they were still a little hesitant."

"How did you convince them?"

"I told them I plan on moving the main offices to the Coruscant branch. Instead of keeping the Iom branch as the center of operation, it will be easier after the merger to relocate."

"You'll also be able to remove any trace of evidence from the Varion system," Sanson added.

"Yea, something like that." Snotzenexer had been keeping a close eye on Sandie Hollins over the past few months. After it was decided he was going to attempt a merger with the largest bank in the galaxy, he began to wonder what would happen to the Iom branch. There was still a lot of evidence that could be uncovered and Snotzenexer wished he had a better way to keep on eye on the goings on in the Varion system. Unfortunately, he could only keep track of so much.

Sandie had become more distant recently. Snotzenexer did not know if that was because she was becoming more independent or if she was slowly uncovering all of her boss' misdeeds. She used to call him once a week for updates and advice, but now the calls were down to once a month.

Sanson and Snotzenexer had decided to go straight, or as straight as could be expected. They no longer planed on turning the government into a ruthless dictatorship, and covering their tracks to make sure no one discovered their crimes became more important than before. Snotzenexer still needed a way to deal with the bank on Iom, but he was sure something would present itself. It always did.

Chapter 7 "Engineering Lessons"

Wedge, Vince, and Bep had arrived at Yavin IV a full day before Anakin had brought the huge Sith missile into orbit around the jungle moon. Using the Academy's carrier, the four men with Perry Tremon's help, unloaded the fighters and brought them down to the surface, lining them up in a clearing that had been created eight months ago by Snotzenexer when he had rained fire down on the Academy.

Mara was there to look at the collection and was definitely impressed. She and Thomas Thorin had decided to organize the upcoming resistance, and with the former Imperial captain gone with Leia to meet with a potential ally near the Varion system, Mara was given command of the base operations. When Wedge had told her that he had found a bunch of ships, she had been hoping for capitol ships, but she was not too disappointed with the V-38's. As a former Imperial agent under the Emperor, she knew a lot about the Empire's secret weapons, and these were some of the better ones.

Mara also noticed that they had brought down a very large supply of ground based turbo laser mounts. "What do you plan to do with those?" Mara asked Wedge as she pulled him away from the activity.

"Vince says he has a way to mount them onto the TIE's," Wedge responded.

"Yea, right," Mara said. "There's no way a fighter that small could ever hope to support a gun requiring more energy per shot than a TIE could produce in an hour."

"You're exaggerating a little," Vince said, walking up to the pair, overhearing their conversation.

"How do you plan to do this?" she asked, hoping that this young man knew much more about what he was talking about than she.

"I designed a system for our old carrier that the Empire stole when they captured us. It involves a type of energy flywheel, which spins anti-mater in a magnetic field. The turbo laser is fired by routing the hyperdrive through the weapons system and drawing the anti-matter out of the containment field with the inertia damper, and thus accelerating the anti-matter to light speed, propelling it through the laser cannon. When the anti-matter leaves the containment field it looses stability and dissolves into pure energy. The result is an energy source that lasts just as long as large batteries, but takes up one one-thousandth of the room."

"Sounds pretty complicated, especially since TIE's don't have a hyperdrive," Mara smirked, thinking to have found a flaw in the young Lieutenant's plan.

"The TIE fighters don't," Vince agreed, "but the Interceptors do. These are advanced prototypes."

Mara did not want to be defeated so easily. "Yes, but where do you plan on getting the room to mount the turbo lasers. If you put them anywhere on the ship, they'll hang outside the cloak and make the ship visible."

"We're installing them into the torpedo cavities. They're exactly the right size, and we have little use for the cavities since we don't have any Imperial style missiles on hand. Republic torpedoes aren't compatible."

Mara was not going to give up. "You said you needed a magnetic containment field to store your energy flywheel . . ." Mara paused realizing where they were going to get that before Vince explained.

"Each of the TIE fighters have containment cells to transform the energy from their solar receptors into pulse energy for the weapons system. By harvesting the cells from the hyperdrive-less ships, we can get enough for two cells per interceptor."

Mara tried to remember exactly what Vince had said. The engineer was hanging around with an expectant look, so Mara thought there might still be something she was missing. "In order to draw the energy out of the containment cell with the inertia damper, you're going to need a matter to anti-matter adapter, aren't you?"

Vince nodded his head, surprised that Mara had the technical knowledge to see the one problem in his plan. "I might be able to gather one or two of the adapters from the Imperial wreckage left behind by Snotzenexer. I think the AT-AT's used them for planetary repulsion, but I'm going to need 48 of them in order to retrofit all 24 of the Interceptors with two turbo lasers."

"You're also going to need to reprogram the nav com to initiate an inertia field to accept the turbo laser's recoil," Mara pointed out, not yet finished with her analysis of the idea.

Vince looked confused for a moment. He had not thought of that. The only ship he had tried this on before was a carrier. That ship had been big enough to absorb any type of recoil ten times the size of a turbo laser, but the TIE's would fly back as if the reverse hyperspace thrusters had fired. "Yes," Vince said slowly, "I will."

Mara watched the tall pilot walk away, still confused as to how both he and Bep could have missed that important detail. Mara did not bask in her superior technical knowledge too long, needing to talk to Anakin. She beckoned for the young Jedi to come over to her. "Ghent needs your help on Coruscant," she said when he came in range.

"The 'Magnificent Ghent' needs my help?" Anakin asked sarcastically. He had made fun of the slicer when he and Mara had chased down the trail of Ghent a month ago. It had taken a while to find him, but Anakin had then quickly got enough evidence against him to give Mara her means for contact.

"You wouldn't know the first thing about setting up a trade networking system, but you can help him. He's known as Quintil Harpinge. He'll be expecting someone soon. Leave as soon as you can and disguise yourself as someone much older."

Anakin nodded and left to go pack. Mara watched him go and then turned to watch the rest of the activity. Ra'tok was helping Vince and Bep with the TIE's. Wedge and Perry were trying to get some large machinery into place so they could begin overhauling. She knew Ghent, and soon Anakin, would be busting their butts to gain control of the Trade Federation. Leia and Thomas were working to get the public to start to question the immaculate Snotzenexer. Mara was not really sure what Han and Luke were doing, but she hoped it panned out into something. This huge plan of theirs just might work.

* * *

Farion Plebotius walked into the bar early in the night, hoping to stay there for a long time. He had a lot of drinking to get caught up on. Farion was the chief engineer at the Varion Construction Yards and his boss, President Ferris Loyran, had been working him to the bone. Though Farion was the chief engineer, he had been removed from the factory floor about three months ago and now operated more like a senior VP than the head grease monkey.

President Loyran had taken Farion and a few other important staff members in the VCY into confidence. The penalty for this added knowledge was working overtime in accordance with Loyran's wishes concerning this new information. Farion's assignment was by far the most stressful out of all the other informed staff members.

The group of elite included two lawyers, the head accountant, the purchasing VP, the materials manager, and Farion. The rest of the group had been given assignments to start hoarding finances in the event that Snotzenexer should try to shut them down. Most of it was illegal, but that was what the lawyers were for. Farion had the unenviable task of trying to figure out how they could keep almost a dozen Star Destroyers docked at their facility despite Snotzenexer's insistence that they be repaired and returned to service.

Admiral Sanson had approached President Loyran almost a year ago with the task of repairing and overhauling almost 30 Star Destroyers. Now the task was nearly completed, and would be if Farion had not stalled the proceedings as much as he had. President Loyran was scared that if he did not keep the ships, Snotzenexer would have no more use for him or his company, and they would meet an ill fated end.

Farion walked up to the bar and took a seat in a line of mostly unoccupied stools. The chief engineer ordered a drink and looked about the usually busy establishment. There were close to two dozen people crowded in the main room, but most of them were huddled in a corner around what looked like an arcade machine.

"New flight simulator arcade," the bartender explained as he poured Farion's drink. "It's called 'Advanced TIE.'"

"An Imperial flight simulator?" Farion asked incredulously.

The bartender nodded. "I guess after the war is over and the enemy is defeated its okay to appreciate them. If you like the TIE fighter now, you're not a traitor, you're just a historian."

"Still-" Farion started.

The bartender raised his hand to stop him. Farion visited the bar often and the bartender knew his views on the Empire. "I don't care how much you despise the Empire and its technology, the game is going to pay for itself in two months, not including the increased bar tabs because of the extra customers it brings."

Farion smiled as he took a sip of his drink, realizing the money minded person behind the counter could care less about politics and controversy. "So how much is it making an hour for you right now?"

"Right now?" the bartender frowned. "Oh, about five credits an hour."

Farion looked back at the machine again. "Was it cheap?"

"Oh no. It cost 50 grand."

"Then how-"

The bartender cut him off again. "You asked how much money it was taking in right now," he tapped the counter as he said the last two words. "Right now," he tapped again, "it is taking in five credits an hour. As soon as the kid who's playing it gets out, it will go back to about 100 credits an hour."

"Good player?" Farion asked, though he would have to be.

"It costs five credits to play," the bartender explained. "Most players last about two or three minutes. This kid on it now could play all day for less than you're going to spend on drinks tonight if he had the money. I think he only comes in when he can scrape together five credits, plays for at least an hour, and then leaves. I have customers who have asked me to call them when he comes in to play so they can watch him."

"I guess he's pretty popular with the rest of the customers," Farion said.

"Not really," the bartender said motioning to the game in the corner.

Farion looked over there and saw the crowd parting so the player could leave the game, his play finished. Farion was a ship connoisseur. He had helped design more than half of his company's marketable ships and had won three different awards by several different organizations that recognize excellence in ship design. The only thing he appreciated more than a good ship, was a pilot who could fly them.

As the crowd parted the chief engineer saw a dilapidated wheelchair that had been pushed off into the corner by the gathering crowd around the simulator. The kid who had been playing the game popped his head out of the machine and looked around before exiting. It was clear to Farion that he was looking for the wheelchair.

This disability made the bartender's comment about the player not being well liked very clear. They were on Iom, home of the Varion Imperial Bank, the main offices of the Varion Construction Yards, and countless other mega corporations. Varia, the system's namesake, had long ago lost its status as the center of commerce and importance. Iom had a reputation for perfection and those who did not fit that image were shunned. Medicine had advanced very far on this planet, meaning the only disabled were poor or alien.

As Farion watched the pilot move himself carefully from the simulator into the wheelchair, the engineer could see this young man was both. His long, thin frame was far in excess of the normal Varion citizen, and his pale skin contrasted with the tanned bodies around him that jockeyed for position to be the next in the machine. Everyone ignored the pilot once he had left the simulator. He was just entertainment to them, and now that he was no longer streaking though space, blowing the other fighters out of the sky, he was just an alien cripple. The only reason anyone had retrieved his wheelchair at all was so they could get him out of the game and let someone else play.

This young man greatly intrigued Farion. The combination of his size, handicap, skill, and the fact he was an alien to this system drew Farion to him. "Skyn," Farion called to the bartender, "Give me another drink."

Skyn looked at Farion's glass, still three-quarters full. "If it's for the kid, I better make it a soda. He doesn't drink."

Farion shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever." He took the second drink and made his way quickly toward a table between the pilot and the outside door. The cripple was expertly weaving his chair through the crowd around the arcade game and between the tables and chairs toward the door.

"You know they can put repulsars on that chair for you."

Jon Poncho looked up from his task of weaving through the bar to identify the man who had spoken. "Who can?"

"Why, any vehicle repair shop can do it. It's a very simple procedure."

"Will they do it for free?" Jon asked.

Farion did not replay, realizing he was not giving this conversation very much thought. He was lecturing an incredible pilot on the advantages of repulsars over wheels.

Jon took the pause to mean "no" and continued toward the door. "Wait," Farion said before Jon could make any real progress past him, "won't you please take a seat." Farion motioned across the table.

"I'm already sitting."

It was clear to Farion that this young man had not always been a cripple, and the fact that he was one now tried his sanity. The chief engineer had not been wise with his choice of words thus far, and decided not to talk anymore. He slid the soda across the table toward Jon and beckoned for him to pull up.

Jon did not think he was going to like this man. There was really no reason this stranger should take an interest in a cripple other than for his own gain, especially so shortly after Jon had showcased his incredible talent. At the same time, a free drink was something Jon did not get often, if ever. He pulled up to the table, sliding the existing chair out of the way.

Farion watched in silence as Jon took the offered drink in hand and slowly drank half of it at once. Neither of them spoke right away, and Jon saw the opportunity to drink the gift and be on his way without out further hassle from this stranger. Farion saw the same opportunity.

"So why do you do it?" Farion asked.

Jon looked back puzzled.

"I've been talking to the owner of this place," Farion explained. "He tells me you come in here maybe once a day, play that game for an hour, and then leave. It's obvious you are not rich. In fact, I doubt you have more than 20 credits on you right now." Jon had 17. "So why do you come in here to play an expensive arcade game in front of a crowd that resents your existence outside of the machine?"

Farion sat back, happy that he had finally been able to make some sense. He expected this young man to tell him about how he had grown up wishing to be a pilot. He had practiced long and hard, flying anything he could get his hands on. Then one day he got into a terrible accident, banishing him to a wheel chair. All his friends rejected him, and all those who had pushed him to succeed failed to support him when he did not. Now the only satisfaction he could gain from life was in a cockpit, and the only cockpit he could find was sitting in the corner of this bar.

"I need to stay sharp," Jon replied.

"For what?" Farion asked, not expecting the answer he got.

"If I grow weak, the enemy will win."

"What enemy?"

Jon had been on Iom for six months. He had gotten out of the hospital five months ago and had only become strong enough to move himself about in the last two months. He now lived his life in the wheelchair. He slept in the chair; he begged from the chair, and he took rain showers in the chair. Iom did not have many homeless and was very clean as a result. He could find food in the allies behind restaurants and warmth in the underground mass transit systems. The only reason he had not taken the turbo lift up to Pytyon's Peak and wheeled of the edge, crashing into the scenic gorge bellow was that he needed to get revenge.

"The Empire," Jon said slowly.

"Surly the Empire is no more?" Farion said, his light tone of voice contrasting violently with Jon's cold stare.

Jon did not say anything. He had finished his drink but did not leave. He just kept staring at the stranger across the table, trying to put a little bit of fear into the man. He tried to let him know that he was not living in a cozy world, and definitely not in a cozy galaxy.

Farion was trying to figure out this young man. His original theory was obviously wrong. This young man had been injured by the Empire, that much was obvious. He had also been injured very recently, for one could not gain skill at piloting from a wheel chair, and this young man was not much past 20 years old. Even at 20, most pilots are only applying to a flight academy, yet this young man had managed to become a great pilot, and then suffered defeat at the hand of the Empire.

Another reality hit Farion. He had just reasoned that the young man had battled the Empire within the last year, but also realized that he had fought here, in the Varion system. He had been stranded here. No cripple comes to Iom to seek a life style; that was what the slums of Coruscant were for. In fact, Farion could remember a report of a crashed fighter about six months ago. The local law enforcement had asked him if it belonged to the VCY.

All of this meant that the Empire, or at least an organization that this young man thought was the Empire, was actively shooting down fighters as recently as six months ago.

Jon still had not answered Farion's last question, so he asked it again. "The Empire has been gone for longer than you've been alive, son. Sure there have been a few skirmishes here and there, but nothing very serious. Who really shot you down?"

Jon was officially no longer a member of the Republic Navy. Yet, in his mind, the Republic Navy was no longer a member of the Republic Navy either. When Sanson and Snotzenexer took the reigns, the fleet ceased to belong to the Republic and was now Imperial. Still, Jon felt like he was enlisted in the military and should therefore still adhere to the oaths he made when he joined. One of those oaths was not disclosing classified or vital military information to members of the public.

Jon thought about this briefly and decided that, from then on out, he was no longer a member of the Republic. There, on the spot, he created the Imperial Resistance Militia, and as the charter member of the IRM, he got to decide who knew what. "There are several Star Destroyers hiding in your asteroid field right now," Jon said slowly.

Farion knew this was not true. All capable Star Destroyers had pulled out of the Varion system a couple months ago, and the only Imperial hardware remaining was sitting in his space docks. He also knew that this young man's statement made six months ago would have been true.

"And who controls these Star Destroyers?" Farion asked.

Jon said nothing, deciding that this information should not be divulged.

"You don't know, do you?" Farion said. He was feeling confident now that is original theory had been correct. This was just a kid who had grown up wishing to be the next Antilles. He became a great pilot, and while wandering through the asteroid field, no doubt testing his skill, he ran across a Star Destroyer. With delusions of grandeur, he engaged it in battle. The rest was history.

Farion tried to put a smug look on his face as this train of thought went though his mind, but looking at the young man across from him made that train derail. Farion could see that this pilot knew exactly who commanded those Star Destroyers, probably better than he did.

The chief engineer at VCY had not lived comfortably in the past few months. Not only had his boss made him work over time, but the reasons for that work were not entirely clear. While President Loyran had told his employees everything he knew, the president did not know everything. In fact, looking into Jon's eyes, Farion realized that Loyran knew very little.

"My name is Farion Plebotius. I'm the Chief Engineer of the Varion Construction Yards. I promise you, if you help me, I will help you."

Jon knew little about the VCY. He had no idea about Snotzenexer's connection with the ship building corporation or that several Star Destroyers were docked at its space docks. Jon did know, however, that the VCY was one of the premiere construction yards in the galaxy. The idea of trading information for weapons was not an acceptable practice according to his old employers, but Jon thought it was allowable considering the Imperial Resistance Militia's low ship count.

"What do you want to know?" Jon asked carefully.

"Everything."

Two hours later Jon was sitting in a repulsar chair in one of the main offices of the VCY. Both Farion and President Loyran (he insisted on being called Ferris) were seated opposite Jon at a small table. Jon had just outlined everything he knew and both men were dumbfounded.

"Let me get this straight," Farion said finally. "Snotzenexer was responsible for the Denorid disaster?" He still could not believe what Jon had told them.

Jon nodded slowly.

Both VCY men were too lost in thought to argue the insanity of this thought. Farion was madly trying to figure out what he was going to do when Sanson came back into the Varion system with her Super Star Destroyer, demanding the rest of her ships.

Ferris was lost in thought, but he was not worried yet. He was admiring Snotzenexer's work. He chided himself for imagining that all of Snotzenexer's breaks had come by luck or some educated guess. He had known that Snotzenexer was crooked, but like he had told Sandie Hollins earlier that week, he had not thought the Republic President was a murderer.

Now everything had changed. There was still the opportunity to stay on Snotzenexer's good side and join him when he made a move, but Ferris could no longer do that in good conscious. He had no problem serving a dictator. He did not even have a problem serving an Imperial dictator. He did have a problem serving an evil man who would stop at nothing, including taking millions of lives, just to get what he wanted.

"Will there be a new rebellion?" Ferris asked after several minutes of silence.

Jon nodded. "I'm certain there will be. How and when, I don't know. I've been out of the loop since my fighter crashed six months ago. I sincerely doubt my friends have been sitting on their hands since then, and any plan they've concocted is already underway."

Ferris nodded, trying to think how he could play a part in this. He had two motives. One was moral, though that was a very small part of it. He did not want an executioner in command for the very simple reason it made the chances of him being lined up in front of the firing squad that much more likely.

The second was he ran a very profitable business and his employees loved him. If he sided with Snotzenexer after it was made known who the President really was, that loyalty would disappear. If he did not side with Snotzenexer, his business would almost certainly be taken away from him. Snotzenexer already had a very strong hold on this system, and taking a little more would be very easy for him.

"Do you have any way of contacting your friends?" Ferris asked.

Jon shook his head. "I expected they might come for me, but they haven't."

Ferris shook his head. "If Snotzenexer was keying on your movements like you said he was, he probably has lookouts all over this system, waiting for your friends to show up again. Even if they did get past him - and they might have - finding one person on Iom, especially a homeless beggar - no offense - is next to impossible.

"The trick is now to try and find out how we can make it known who's side we're on without letting the other side know."

All three sat in silence for a while.

"What did you fly," Farion asked.

"It was a custom made ship my friends designed," Jon said. He began to scribble a crude drawing on a scrap of paper. "We called it a W-wing."

"Looks more like an 'M' to me," Farion said, looking at the drawing from across the table.

Jon quickly flipped the paper around so the ship was no longer inverted. He froze. "An M-wing," he said softly, staring at the upside-down picture of his old ship.

"Three engines instead of two," Farion said, understanding the beauty of the W-wing's design instantly and also understanding why Jon liked the idea of an M-wing. "No room for torpedo tubes if you have the central engine though."

"Don't need them, not for fighters." He looked Farion straight in the eyes. "Especially not for the advanced TIE's they have now. You wouldn't get a lock in a million years."

Farion continued to look at the scribbled drawing, realizing he was going to build it. "Where do you put the laser batteries? There's no real protected area for them."

"We never used laser batteries. Vince designed the lasers to draw energy directly from-"

"-the engines," Farion completed. The idea was simple and was in use on many different freighters. The difference was that with the freighters, there was a separate engine just dedicated to the weapons. To ask an engine to handle both propulsion and weapons meant that no matter the circumstances, the engine had to operate bellow peak capacity so that excess could always be drawn for the weapons. "Those engines would have to be incredibly efficient."

"That and you have to have a good controls system," Jon added.

"What do you mean?" Farion asked, though he had an idea what Jon was getting at.

"Linked inertia dampers to relieve the engines during moments of intense changes of momentum. Pre-programmed exponential power curves to obtain peak velocity without hitting peak acceleration. Independent throttle controls so the engines could alternate during hard acceleration. Cross linked laser cannons programmed to alternate with the engines during maximum firepower."

"Nobody could fly a ship under those conditions," Ferris interrupted, feeling Jon could go on and on.

"I think he could," Farion said, feeling a dozen more awards coming his way if he built this M-wing.

"What about the rest of our pilots?" Ferris asked. The VCY had dozens of test pilots to tryout ship modifications and evaluate new prototype models.

"They could learn, though I doubt they'd be able to master it. Still, even without taking full advantage of the fighter's capabilities, it is a vastly improved ship over what we have now."

"Then why haven't you thought of it before?" Ferris asked, half accusing, half chiding.

"The public wants aesthetics and power. This ship has neither. This M-wing and the W-wings, from what I gather, specialized in speed and precision. You don't need a powerful ship to blow up TIE, you need a fast one."

Jon kept his mouth shut. The W-wing had more power than an E-wing, and had shields that could almost repel turbo lasers. Those designs and applications would have to remain secret for now. Jon did not want to give away all Vince and Bep's secrets, besides, he did not know how all of that worked. If things went well, he would meet up with his friends again soon, and they could explain those things themselves.

Chapter 8 "Trade Secrets"

Ten days after their original meeting, Ghent, aka Quintil Harpinge, and Cog Fardin rode silently up a turbo lift. Ghent looked haggard and beaten. His tie was crooked and his shirt not firmly tucked into his pants. He had deep circles under his eyes, and his hair was tussled. Cog could imagine why. This presentation of the overhauled Trade Federation's networking system was coming four whole days earlier than originally promised. The Twi'lek had scoffed at the idea such a feat could take place in two weeks, thinking two months was still being optimistic.

Ghent actually felt better than he had in days. When he had reported to Mara after the original meeting with the Trade Federation President, he had told her he had been given a job and would need help to pull it off. The help had come in the form of Anakin Solo.

The young Jedi was getting used to being tossed around from job to job. He had originally flushed Ghent out of hiding with his computer skills and had then uncovered an ancient Sith stronghold for Wedge. The day he arrived back at the Academy, Mara sent him to Coruscant to help Ghent.

Both computer wizards had heard about each other through Mara and Wedge, and neither believed the accounts they heard. When they met for the first time, Ghent had already begun the process of rewriting the Federation network and was running into problems with his help. He had hired the best of the best, but they were not performing up to his expectations.

Anakin came onto the scene, absorbed Ghent's desires and wishes, and immediately outperformed all five of the men Ghent had hired in the first hour. The problem Anakin ran into is that he could write and decipher faster than the rest of the people could assemble the corresponding hardware and mating code.

Ghent saw that his hired help was no longer necessary and quickly down-graded their job descriptions to that of simple techs, installing and networking the upgraded equipment. Ghent still needed someone to write alongside Anakin to mate his code into the system, and Ghent took a seat in front of a keyboard for the first time in years.

The two masters felt an intense competition arise instantly. Though they were not working against each other, the rivalry was greater than that of the greatest sporting championship. Anakin wrote the source code, the portion of the system that controlled the numbers of the huge Federation. Ghent had laid out the system for him on his first day, and Anakin immediately saw the path he had to follow.

Ghent needed to mate that source code with every branch of the far-reaching Trade Federation. Since it was not feasible to visit every Federation outpost in the Republic and update their code, Ghent had to make sure that Anakin's new system compiled smoothly against existing software interfaces.

Anakin would finish a given section with a flourish to find that Ghent was still putting the final touches on his interlocking portion. The Jedi would ride the Corporate Sector legend for all he was worth, asking what was taking him so long. The two would finally mate their code only to find that in Anakin's haste, he had forgotten a vital line. The Jedi would scramble to fix his error while Ghent would get a head start on their next section. The roles would then be reversed as Ghent stood over the Jedi, cursing his slow Force skills.

The five men whom Ghent had hired watched in awe (for about 50 grand a piece) as the two men did the work of a dozen. Each was so intent on speed, their minds creating intricate shortcuts to compile subroutines down to a few lines that had previously encompassed a page, that it was laughable to think the over-hauling process would fill a week, much less two.

The final four days were spent testing the system, as well as hiding a few credit-skimming routines capable of creating millions of credits out of thin air every hour. Ghent knew what Mara and company wanted to do to the current government, and Ghent feared that if he did not turn his personal billions into trillions, he might not be able to survive the coming crash.

The doors to the turbo lift swished open revealing a massive scene of chaos. Cog Fardin distinctly remembered Ghent telling him that he was going to experience an enormous drop in employees, but nearly twice the normal human traffic buzzed about the room, scrambling between stacks of data cards and flashing computer screens. It was the 28th anniversary of the destruction of the second Death Star and a galactic holiday. The extra long weekend was the perfect time to switch the system over since no shipments were scheduled, save expedited freight.

Cog groaned as he realized that each person in the room was earning double time and a half for holiday work, but tried to gain some pleasure in the fact that it would be the last item on most of their time cards. "Can you explain what is going on Quintil?"

"Certainly," Ghent responded. "In the old system, all records of trade history were kept at the depots and outposts that completed the transaction. Those files are now being compiled into one, huge, centralized database."

"You plan to run all transactions through the main network here on Coruscant?" Cog asked frightfully, wondering if he had not made a huge mistake by entrusting his Federation to this young man.

"Not hardly," Ghent reassured him. "I am merely setting up a universal database that can be accessed by all branches of the Federation. The database will be able to do automated price negotiation and scheduling."

These were the two items that had required the most manual labor on the old system, and Cog still could not believe that they were going to be automated by Ghent's "almighty" new system. "How is that going to work exactly?"

"Let's say that you live on Iom, and your textile company has just signed a huge contract with Verpine Secrets and needs an immense supply of silk, satin, and other exotic materials for their new lingerie line. Nobody in the Varion system can get you what you need, so you put a call into the Federation branch on Iom. The computer dials up this database and accesses all of the shipments of silk since the Federation started keeping records. It instantly obtains the average profit margins on those shipments.

"The main computer here on Coruscant also has information on the location of all the Trade Federation Traders. Using the history of past shipments, the database finds the nearest TFT to the closest silk supplier to Iom. It then uploads the buying price for silk from that supplier, adds on the average shipping cost over the distance between Iom and the supplier, and finally adds on the average profit margin for silk.

"The database is capable of calculating this information in a fraction of a second after receiving the request from Iom. The price is relayed back to the Federation office on Iom and then given to the customer. If the price is rejected, the database uses the standard deviation of the previous shipments to adjust the price in the customer's favor. If the adjustment results in a price that is no longer acceptable from the Federation's standpoint, the request is denied.

"Since you don't want Verpine Secrets to go elsewhere, you will accept the price, knowing that it is the cheapest price possible. Since averages are used, you will always make a profit. The reason for this is that it is impossible to have a positive spike while negative ones are common in the system."

"What do you mean by that?" Cog asked, having followed the system thus far.

"Let's say that the nearest world to Iom that can meet your fabric needs is 35 light years away. Unless the TFT finds an unknown wormhole or has a Jedi calculate his hyperspace route, he will not be able to cut any time off his route. Some ships have better hyperdrives than others do, but not to such an extent that they will show up as spikes, just slight increases.

"By spike, I mean an anomaly. All you care about are profit margins. A positive spike is when the cost of the shipment is far less than expected and the profit margin is very high. Like I said, this is not likely to happen.

"While it is next to impossible to have a positive spike, negative ones are all too common. Anything from a hyperdrive malfunction to pilot illness to theft can slow a shipment. Most averages are compiled off a normal distribution and contain some extreme highs and lows while most of the values hang around the middle. In this system, the negative spikes without any positive ones to offset them mean that all of the averages will be on the high side."

"Yes," Cog agreed, "but won't the negative spikes in the system eliminate any profit gained from the inflated estimate. You are working with the laws of averages here, if you make a dozen extra credits on a hundred shipments, and then loose 1200 on one, aren't you coming out even?"

"Not in all cases," Ghent replied, ready for the question. "Spikes will appear in more than just the shipping aspect of a sale. Supplier prices will also see spikes. If a local shortage of a requested cargo takes place, you will see an inflated price, giving you a negative spike. However, if you have a local surplus, the local price might go down to offset previous spike, but since a local surplus does not create a galactic surplus, the supplier will likely keep his price in line with the galactic rate, taking a large profit in the process. If the Federation can't find another supplier not suffering from a shortage near enough to the shipping destination, it will be forced to take a hit. Like you said, such a loss will be compensated for by an increased average in the system and will be made up over time.

"However, in shipping, negative time spikes do not correlate into losses for the Federation. Customers are billed a shipping cost according to the amount of time we are required to store their product in transit. If we are shipping gourmet meat and require a special freighter to transport it, the longer we hold it, the longer we put ourselves at risk of theft or spoilage. Plus that special freighter is tied up for a given amount of time that should be billed to the customer. On the other hand, a TFT is paid by the light-year, not by the hour. Because of this, any delay, unless it is the result of a space warp that increases the distance between the supplier and customer, will not result in increased cost to us, just an increase to the customer."

Cog Fardin was quickly loosing any early doubts he had had about Ghent's abilities. "How will the database be able to handle special shipments?"

"Expedites will operate on their own averages. With a normal shipment the database is able to shop around. If a supplier further away from the customer has a price that is low enough to still make using them profitable, even with the extra shipping cost, the database can use that supplier. With an expedite, the closest supplier, regardless of the cost is chosen, and there is no negotiation with the customer. Also each ship in the Federation has classification codes. The hyperdrives, cargo holds, weapon systems, and even pilot skill are all given ratings by that ship's Trade Rep. The database uses these ratings if it has to choose between two ships for any given shipment. It also uses these codes to find the nearest capable ship. If the closest ship's cargo hold isn't big enough, the database has to keep looking."

Cog and Ghent were wandering through the huge floor of the Federation building on Coruscant, dodging the hurried individuals and often getting bumped around by lowly gofers without the slightest hint of an apology. Cog continued to ask a few more questions but barely listen to the answers, happy that there were answers and not really caring what they were.

After almost an hour amidst the chaos, they retired to Cog's office. "So what is it going to take to run this system once the database compilation is completed?" Cog asked after they were both seated with drinks.

"Very little," Ghent replied. "I am going to send some of your better people and the few I've hired out to each of the major branches in the Varion, Corellian, Calamarian, and Detsgor systems and the fringes of the Corporate Sector to automate those branches, allowing electronic requests. After that, I'll keep my people here to help me watch over the system, ensuring no foul-ups. We've done numerous simulations on the system and I'm sure it is flawless, but there will have to be some manual input when we take on the drug trade from Snotzenexer's administration.

"Since the system runs off a history to obtain averages and we will take on dozens of cargo that have no history, we will need to monitor the price negotiations to ensure a one time shipment between neighboring planets isn't used to calculate the profit margin for a shipment that spans half the galaxy.

"Beyond that, the system should run itself. I wouldn't close the door to the mainframe and throw away the key, but I foresee little maintenance. At the same time, I and maybe one other will stay on full time to make sure the system runs at peak performance. There are a few upgrades that I allowed to be added later, depending on factors I didn't have experience with."

"Such as?"

"I didn't give the cargo classification ratings. For example, food, construction material, and computer components will make up the majority of all shipments. However, when calculating acceptable price reductions for a tight customer, the database treats all cargo the same. Since the afore mentioned shipments are shipped so often, it is feasible to accept a few low profit margins because they will be made up quickly. Each cargo has its own history, so if we accepted a lower profit margin on a infrequently shipped item, it will have a bigger impact on the overall average."

Cog understood and agreed that he wouldn't even know where to begin with that one. He could also imagine other improvements that could be made down the road. He was sure Ghent had thought of everything he could and more. There was just one thing left to talk about. "What about money?"

"You will make a lot."

"I mean you. You said that you would stay on full time after start up. Unless you were planning on offering your services free of charge, I assume you will be drawing a salary."

"Let's see," Ghent said slowly, as if doing the math in his head. "By the time my people have finished with all the major branches, I will have eliminated the need for over 560 employees. I figure I'm entitled to at least 30% of the surplus."

"You want to make as much as 168 of my employees combined?" Cog exclaimed, not sure if he should be outraged.

"You're right," Ghent said. "Might as well make it a round number. How does 150 sound?"

The average salary of his employees was around 50 thousand a year. Before Cog yelled at Ghent for requesting 7.5 million a year for minor maintenance, he put the number into perspective. Ghent was leaving over 70% of the surplus for the Trade Federation to absorb, plus he had eliminated the need to hire about 200 more employees when they took over the health and drug administration's shipping requirements. Not only that, but Ghent was worth over 500 billion, though if he liquidated that into actual credits it would come out to about 100 billion hard currency. For this man to ask for only 7.5 million, a salary reduction of about 100,000%, was really a steal.

Of course Cog doubted that the Trade Federation would be his only means of income. He was still the CEO of his old software business, and all of his many investments would still draw huge sums for him every month. Still, Cog decided to agree to the requested salary. If the maintenance on the system was truly as low as Ghent suggested, Cog could always fire Ghent in the future.

It was at that moment that Cog realized what he had done. He had just turned the entire operation of the Trade Federation into the hands of one man. Cog could never fire him. He was the only one who understood the system he had created, and if he ever wanted to sabotage it, it would impossible for anyone to stop him. Maybe Cog would offer him 15 million a year, just to be safe.

* * *

Thomas sat down in front of the com unit. He checked his chrono and punched in a predetermined frequency. He waited patiently for the com unit to connect him with the net's server.

"You have requested a public communication line," a droid operator told him. "For an extra five credits a minute you may make this line secure and all callers will require voice recognition before acceptance into the call." It was expensive, but Thomas keyed in to accept the charges.

"You are the first caller into the conference line," the droid continued. "The other callers will be required to announce themselves upon arrival and will be subject to your acceptance before they may enter the public line."

Mara had gotten them this line. The com conferencing system was normally used for businessmen who did not want to travel light-years to attend meetings. Instead they could gather a dozen or so associates from across the galaxy onto a conference call. There were holo conference services as well, but the com unit Thomas was using did not support multiple images and those calls were much more expensive.

"Mara Jade." Mara's voice came over the com.

Thomas quickly keyed in her acceptance to the call. "How are things on Yavin IV, Mara?"

"How do you know that's where I am?" She queried.

Thomas was on Torenick using one of the TBC's com stations. Borrel had shown Leia and Thomas around and also showed them which pieces of equipment belonged to him and which ones they could use. This com unit was one of the latest models and had a lot of interesting features. Included in those features was a trace program to identify callers. "Caller ID," Thomas replied.

"Oh," Mara replied, hardly believing him. "I have Wedge and Anakin with me."

"Hello, gentlemen," Thomas said into the com. Wedge and Anakin gave their responses, and the group waited for more to join.

"Han Solo."

Thomas' com unit showed that Han was on the move somewhere near the Corellian Sector. "How are things, Han?"

"I'm holding together, Thomas. I've got Luke here with me. Chewie's off making sure the hyperdrive doesn't clunk out on us. I've got a shipment of expensive linen for Carst 7."

"Sounds terribly exciting," Mara said dryly.

"Well it's not illegal spice," Han admitted, "but it pays the bills."

"Is anyone else going to join?" Luke asked, recognizing three different locations so far, and not sensing a fourth.

"I gave Ghent the frequency, but he is probably too busy to call in."

"How did that go?" Han asked, referring to their plan to have Ghent control the Trade Federation. The idea had seemed ludicrous to Han at first. Just waltzing into the Trade Federation and asking to be given control of Snotzenexer's most important stronghold seemed too crazy to even be contemplated, but by all reports, it had not only happened, but Cog Fardin had paid good money to make it happen.

"Ghent has had the system up and running for only a few days, but there doesn't seem to be any glitches yet," Mara reported.

"So we have control?" Han asked.

"Hold on Solo," Mara said quickly. "Don't go abusing the system. I'm transferring the frequency to Ghent's personal com unit to everyone right now, but do not over use this resource. He is only to be contacted in dire need. I don't know how quickly Fardin and Snotzenexer will be in picking up on our trickery and we don't want to push our luck."

"There's no such thing as luck," Luke said solemnly.

Mara could not see Luke's face, and had no idea the Jedi Master was restraining laughter. Luke had said it just to raise Mara's ire and not out of any true conviction. It worked.

Thomas cut in. "I agree with Mara. Don't use the Trade Federation unless you have to." He paused for a few seconds to let everyone know he was about to change topics. "Han, what is the general feeling among the traders?"

"They're pretty happy, though I can't imagine why. There are a few old fossils like myself who made a living back in Imperial days smuggling contraband, but most of these fools think the TF is the best thing since diced corda bread. Still, I think I might have had some affect on overall morale."

"You do have that affect on people," Mara put in quickly.

"I've been pointing out a lot of unfair policies and regulations that the TF incorporates. I've talked to a lot of people and they all agree that changes would be good, but they aren't going to do anything under my command. It's going to take someone who isn't as obviously biased to stir up any action. Most of my old buddies would have the influence needed, but don't have any desire to start a type of union yet. They are too independent at heart and would much rather break the rules than try to have them changed."

Thomas nodded, understanding what Han was talking about. He made a couple notes and moved on. "How about our ship situation?" he directed a question at Wedge.

"It's better," the former Republic Admiral responded. "We still have no capitol ships, but were able to acquire a couple dozen V-38's."

Thomas knew about the Imperial prototype weapons and was greatly impressed with the find.

"Right now we are working on the ships to modify and update them. Hey Han," Wedge interrupted his own report, "you wouldn't happen to have several dozen MAM adapters lying around the Falcon, would you?"

"Matter to anit-matter adapters?" Han asked. "No, I don't have any that I can spare, and I can't think of anywhere we could afford to get some without drawing considerable attention to ourselves. All the suppliers of MAM adapters are registered with local military, most of which are allied with the Republic."

"That's what I thought," Wedge replied. "Thought I'd try anyway. Just keep your eyes open."

Thomas made a few more notes. "I just want everyone to know what's going on at our end. Leia's off making a separate call right now to an old friend in the senate, trying to dig up a little evidence against Snotzenexer. At the same time, I've teamed up with a holo-film director here on Torenick, and we are preparing to publicize a news bulletin outlining some of Snotzenexer's misdeeds. Depending on the publication's acceptance, more reports will follow with increasing seriousness.

"Han, you will no doubt be question about some of the claims by your associates and maybe employers. As far as they're concerned, you have no idea who's submitting the reports."

"Gotcha," Han replied.

"The rest of you can supply me with any additional information you might stumble across that I can use. Other than that, I don't know if there is anything else we need to discuss." Thomas waited for someone to speak up. No one did. "We'll talk again in a week." With that Thomas severed the connection.

The former Imperial Captain paused in thought for several minutes and then quickly punched in another frequency. He waited a few seconds while the connection was made, and then a few more for the other end to pick up.

"Solo here."

"Han, this is Thomas."

"Hey, didn't we just talk?"

"Yes, but I wanted to ask you a few questions without Mara on the line."

On the other end of the line, Han grinned. He liked this man more and more every day. "What do you need?"

"You said that the younger traders would be more receptive to your petitions if someone else from the old school took up the cause. Did you have anyone particular in mind?"

Han recalled the sabacc game he had played with Derran Speedsting. He was hot-tempered and irritable, but he was also very well respected among the other traders. If Derran ever had a change of heart and decided to join Han's cause, many more would follow. "Yea, I got someone in mind. What are you planning?"

"I have an idea to solve everyone's problems at once." He explained his idea to Han. Han gave Thomas all the information he needed, and after about five minutes, Thomas ended the call.

Thomas messed around with a few figures and dates, made two more calls, and left the com room for the day, confident his plan would start the big ball rolling in the direction they needed to go. Thomas could not worry about it for too long. He needed to write a news report that was going to be submitted in about four hours.

* * *

Leia was sitting in front of a different com station on Torenick. This one was a holo-com unit.

"Hello, Senator Cariasco here," the other end responded.

As was usually the case when receiving unannounced holo messages, Senator Evlyn Cariasco was not sending a visual. Leia was. "Evlyn, It's good to talk to you again."

Senator Cariasco quickly switched on her visual, and the two old friends looked at each other for the first time in over six months. "Leia, how are you holding up?"

Leia smiled, glad that her friend still had positive emotions for her. Evlyn had been one of the many former Leia supporters who had voted for her dismissal and then for Snotzenexer's appointment to the office of president. Leia did not blame these senators for their actions. Snotzenexer had built a very convincing case against her, and Leia imagined she would have reacted the same way if she had been in the senate without the vital facts.

"I'm doing well," Leia responded.

"So, to what do I owe this unexpected call?"

"I was wondering," Leia began, trying to sound innocent, "are you still the chairperson of the investigative committee?"

Evlyn paused before answering. "Yes." Evlyn knew that Leia did not trust Snotzenexer and was hoping that this call would not get into dragging down the very well liked and greatly respected president.

"I was wondering how the investigation into the accident on Xentin was going. I haven't heard any public releases on the investigation yet and was wondering if there were any."

It took Evlyn a painful few moments of concentration to even remember where Xentin was or why it needed to be investigated. Then she remembered. MCX had been the company that had defaulted on its loan and had started the cascade of events that led to Snotzenexer's election. The Mining Corporation on Xentin had suffered a catastrophic natural disaster that had killed hundreds and left the company totally destroyed.

The investigation Leia was asking about had never taken place, but it should have. When the Republic had set up a system to offer governments and corporations financial aid to rebuild after years of Imperial oppression, they had also entered a clause into the bill that should any recipient of such aid default on the payments, an official investigation was to be carried out to find the reason for the failure. This way the Republic would be able to learn from their failed investments and make better decisions in the future.

The reason this investigation had never taken place was because the entire galaxy's financial, political, and social structure had been turned upside down and inside out. In the process, many other loans were canceled automatically defaulting the loan recipients. During the clean up, the MCX situation was simply lumped in with the rest of the canceled loans and was disregarded.

In reality, there was still a datacard sitting in someone's filing cabinet that needed a signature to officially close out the MCX affair. That signature was supposed to be made by Evlyn after the investigation came to a close and a reason for default was given. In this case, the reason was obvious. There had been a natural disaster. The investigation could consist of just looking at the headlines in the newsstands and believing what was there.

Evlyn had half a mind to tell Leia that the investigation had turned up nothing new, and the file had been closed months ago. She could then go down to her clerk's office, sign the data file, and officially close the affair. On the other hand, Leia was not stupid. She had made quite a few rash accusations against Snotzenexer during the first month of his presidency, but since then, not much had been heard from the former president. Now for her to question the validity of a natural disaster some seven months old seemed very odd.

Actually, conducting the investigation would almost be as simple as faking it. The investigation committee had several field teams at their disposal, none of which were busy, and were wasting tax payers' money sitting idle. She could make a call, and a team of four investigators would be on Xentin in less than three days. They would snoop around, drill a few holes in the disaster site, confirm that it was a natural volcanic eruption, and Evlyn could close the file with a clean conscious.

"The results of that investigation are not in yet," Evlyn said truthfully. "We were waiting for the excitement around the disaster site to calm down. Many people died in that accident and we didn't want to start drilling holes in the mass grave while families were still morning. Because of the wait, we kind of put it on the back burner and forgot about it. Now that you brought it to my attention, I think I will close it out."

Evlyn paused. "Why, may I ask, are you interested in it?"

"I was just curious," Leia responded quite honestly. Of all the atrocities she and her friends were accusing Snotzenexer for, the accident on Xentin was the only one for which they had absolutely no proof. "The incident occurred while I was still president, and I wanted to make sure all the files that had been opened during my term were being taken care of."

"I appreciate your concern and if we turn up anything unusual, I'll be sure to give you a call."

"Thanks, Evlyn." With that, Leia closed the connection.

* * *

Lando looked across the table at the Trade Federation evaluator. "You don't understand, Lorthabal. My crystals are of the highest quality in the entire galaxy, but I have to compete with other miners who are producing subpar refractors at a fraction of my cost. The Federation doesn't have the proper classification system yet."

Knet Lorthabal looked at Lando as if he had grown a third ear. Lando tried to mimic the look back at his guest, but the alien already had three ears, and knowing his race's genetic tendencies, it was more than likely that Lorthabal was working on a fourth even as they were speaking.

"I still don't see how you are special, Calrissian," he argued, hissing Lando's last name with his forked tongue "None of the other industrial crystal suppliers have complained about our classification system yet."

"That's because the system only hurts the high quality crystal suppliers like myself, and there aren't many others like me." Lando took a deep breath, trying to think of some other way he could explain his problem.

He had returned to his asteroid mine six months ago after seeing that any rebellion his friends were planing would take more time than he could spend away from work. He had lost Trince, and was still a little confused as to what had gone wrong with his Jedi employee, but he still had Yova, the second Jedi student Luke had given him almost a year ago.

Lando had registered with the Trade Federation two months ago when his mine finally started to produce a significant supply of crystals. It was definitely the best way to do business, with ships arriving every two weeks to haul away massive amounts of high quality crystals. Lando was turning an enormous profit but still was not happy.

Lando looked down at a data pad as he spoke. "You have only one classification for grain," Lando said, trying to give the slow-witted Lorthabal a clear example. "That's because there is only one type of grain." Lando was scrolling through the list of products the Trade Federation dealt in. "You have only one classification for power couplings. You have two different classifications for nerf, ground and steak. You have several hundred classifications for wine.

"Would it make any sense for you to only have one classification for wine? Of course not. Nobody just orders wine; they order a specific type of wine. It wouldn't make any sense for you to sell Alderaanian port for the same price that you sell Corellian blood wine. Why, one bottle of any Alderaanian wine costs as much as a lifetime supply of the best Corellian wine. It's the same with crystals."

"You want us to make a hundred different classifications of crystals for you so you can sell your crystals at a price ten times what it is now," Lorthabal said slowly.

Yes, Lando thought. "No," he said, "you only have to classify about three or four different grades of crystals, in three different categories."

"And who is going to make these classifications? You?"

Yes, Lando thought again. "No, of course not. I know several crystal experts who can visit your different suppliers and classify each of their products."

"At our cost, no doubt."

"At no cost to you. Most of these experts work for companies that purchase crystals from your suppliers and I'm sure they want to make sure your system allows them to order exactly what they want. If someone wants to order high strength crystals for the high compression drill bits they're building, and they use your current system, they have no way of knowing what they're getting. If I'm the closest supplier, they'll be getting a great crystal for their price, but they can just as easily be getting a product from someone using carbon powder compression methods to synthesize crystals. In your current system, both groups of crystals would be purchased for the same price, but one group is a hundred times better."

Lando paused in his exposition, seeing that he was finally having a slight effect on his thick skinned (literally - three centimeters thick) guest. "This will be a big bonus to you. Not only will you reduce the number of complaints from companies that received the wrong type of crystals, but by using the current price range for the base level crystals, and increasing the price for each advancing classification level, you will increase profit margins."

"It sounds good, Calrissian." Lorthabal's face brightened considerably when he heard the words "increase profit margins." His pay raises depended solely on the amount he could increase profit margins. As long as Lando was not pulling a fast one on the slow Trade Federation evaluator, with his next raise Lorthabal would be able to afford to by nice presents for all 73 of his offspring's birthdays this year.

"Why don't I give you the names of a few men who would be willing to work up the classification system for you. I'll nee-" Lando was interrupted as beeper went off on his belt. Lando reacted quickly, switching off the device with a practiced flick of his arm.

Lorthabal reacted to the noise also, and had a huge, ugly blaster leveled at Lando before the former gambler knew what was going on. Lando was shocked that anyone could be that mind bogglingly stupid. "Uh," he stuttered, "it's just a pager," Lando said. Apparently Lorthabal still was not clear that a pager was not a weapon. "My people are telling me I have an incoming message in our communication building."

Lando stood very slowly. The business end of Lorthabal's weapon followed him just as slowly. The big alien could now see that Lando was not wearing a blaster of any kind, and the heinous noisemaker that Lando had called a "pager" was only the size of his non-opposable thumb. Lorthabal slowly put his weapon away.

"I need to get this call. In the meantime, make yourself at home. There are drinks in the thermal bin in the corner and a wide variety of snacks in the cupboards. I'll be back in about 15 minutes with the names and frequencies of a few people you can call about the classification system."

Lando left the small building he had had built for meetings with customers and was wondering if he should've left the phrase "make yourself at home" out of his speech. He could always build another hut. Lando walked along the leveled pathway that connected the constantly growing number of sheds and buildings that littered the surface of the asteroid. A while back, the Empire had paid his business a visit and had leveled most of the buildings, destroying much of the equipment in the process. He had dumped in a lot of his own money to rebuild and had not been disappointed in the results.

He walked into the communications building and was greeted by Jalence and Herta. "You've got a message coming in from a Thomas Thorin," Herta told him. Lando had meet Thomas briefly before he had left to come back to this asteroid. He was an Imperial Captain that had been exiled to Hoth over 30 years ago. He had somehow managed to survive and had run into Luke during the Jedi Master's brief stay on the planet. Mara and Anakin had rescued both and now Thomas was taking control of most of the strategy planning for the group of would be rebels.

Lando sat in front of the holo com unit and keyed in the call. "Hi, Thomas. It's been a long time. What do you need?" Lando had no doubt that this call was going to end with a request.

"I have a very odd request for your services, Lando."

Twenty minutes later, a very confused Lando Calrissian reentered the building containing the moody Lorthabal. Lando was not surprised to see that half of his food stores had been consumed and a good portion of his alcohol. This building was just for guests, and Lando was glad it contained none of the food for his employees.

"What's wrong, Calrissian?" Lorthabal asked, seeing the troubled look on Lando's face. "A disturbing call?"

Lando looked at the mess the alien had left and quickly saw he could blame his mood on what his guest had done with Lando's gesture of hospitality. Instead, Lando shrugged his shoulders at the question. "Here are the names of a few people you should contact," Lando said as he tossed a datacard onto the table in front of the reclining Trade Federation employee.

Lorthabal saw that the meeting was over and was just beginning to realize what kind of mess he had made. "Well, it's been nice doing business with you, Calrissian. If you have any other concerns, don't hesitate to contact us." Lando shook the large, four-fingered hand and nodded at the stout alien. With out further display, Lorthabal left the building and went to his ship.

Lando sat at the table and cracked open one of the drink cans Lorthabal had not gotten to. He downed half the can in his first few gulps and winced as the powerful liquid scorched his throat and stomach. He suppressed a belch and tried to think about what Thomas had just told him. Finally he got up and walked over to a com unit set in the wall.

"Mansenchin," Lando called his right-hand man.

"Yea," the powerful man responded quickly through the com.

"I need you to come to the guest hut right away. And bring Yova with you."

"What is it boss?" Mansenchin asked, sensing trouble in his employer's voice.

"You're not going to believe this, Mans, but we need to make a pirate attack in three days."

"A pirate attack? I can't wait to have this explained."

"Neither can I," Lando agreed.

Chapter 9 "Indirect Accusations"

Snotzenexer sat in his senate chamber reading the report very slowly. It was an independent publication that had come across the news wire. There were hundreds of independent news organizations that tried to get put into the main news stream but few had the know-how, and even fewer had the content. This publication had both.

Snotzenexer could not read all the news reports each day, but he had set up his computer to present him with the reports that included several key words or phrases that Snotzenexer had put into a search device. This independent report contained almost all of his key phrases and a few more he would have to add to his search.

The report was careful not to make any direct accusations, and Snotzenexer admired that. If this had come from who he thought it had, they were showing very clever restraint. The report started out very bland, outlining some of the drugs included in Snotzenexer's health plan. The first crops were already rolling in, and the report gave the statistics on the biggest ones.

Bacta was first on the list, as could be expected, and many others followed. Towards the end, an almost unheard of bacterium was listed. "Prolanstina," the report said, "is a bacteria that rarely occurs naturally. The bacteria expels a much higher oxygen concentration than most plant life and its only medical use has been in the manufacturing of prolan gas, a strong hallucinogenic. Prolan gas was used by many primitive cultures as a pain sedative, but the severe hallucinations it causes has made it illegal in most advanced medical societies."

Snotzenexer smiled at the well-crafted report. No where did it accuse Snotzenexer of manufacturing prolan gas, or even that he planned on manufacturing it. It only laid out the facts and let the reader decide what to think. Before continuing with the report, Snotzenexer made a call to one of his assistants. He could handle this issue if it came up in the senate today, but he would need a little help. He read on.

The report then moved to several issues with the Trade Federation. Again it did not accuse the Federation of treating its traders unfairly, it merely laid out all of the guidelines and rules the traders must obey. It did mention a few negative issues, such as the absence of bonuses for carrying valuable cargo, or the lack of a credit line for maintenance charges, but it did so in a very straight forward manner.

Finally the report talked about Admiral Sanson, his wife. Snotzenexer had told himself many times that when Sanson was attacked he would not get overly protective, just as she should not when he was under fire. Like before, Sanson was not directly attacked in the report. It stated that she was a former Imperial and had been hiding in the Varion system for an undetermined time. The report's use of the word "undetermined" when Sanson had publicly stated she had been hiding for ten years caught Snotzenexer's attention. The fact that the report decided to leave the time frame open indirectly accused Sanson of lying. The report went on to outline the last known Imperial activity in the Danzig system.

Snotzenexer turned off his monitor. The publication would cause problems. He could see that this was going to be a regular publication for the simple fact that he knew his enemies knew much more than they had told so far. They were going to release these news reports slowly, letting the public gradually begin to doubt their leader before the reports got serious.

For the first time in a year, Snotzenexer was worried. He was not exactly sure what the rebels knew, but he was sure they could accurately guess at everything. Guesses would not hold up in an official report though, and Snotzenexer could not be sure exactly how much of his actions had been uncovered.

After the senate, Snotzenexer would have to accelerate some of his plans. He needed to nip this publication in the butt before it got out of hand.

* * *

Snotzenexer gazed out from his central senate box. His floating dais was located in the center of the huge senate chamber, both vertically and concentricly. The other senators occupied their own boxes, hundreds of them connected to the cylindrical wall of the chamber. The chamber was far too large to give everyone the same view, so several holograms of the center debate were projected above and below Snotzenexer's station so everyone could see the proceedings.

Any senator who wished to have the floor needed to be in the center area. All of the senate boxes were detachable from the wall and could move up and down the center of the chamber. The boxes in the center area of the chamber were reserved for committee chairmen and senior senators.

Snotzenexer spent a brief moment looking about at the complex variety of faces looking at him before turning to the agenda. He knew what some of them must be thinking. The report he had read before entering this session had definitely reached many other senators, and now doubts were spreading through the chamber. Snotzenexer would put those doubts to rest.

The agenda consisted of a listing of bills and legislature that were to be discussed during this session. Before getting to the normal legislature, though, each session always started with a brief discussion of current events and concerns. During the extensive remodeling the Republic was experiencing, the senate had decided to spend the first half hour discussing any recent news or events before moving to the more tedious proceedings that took up the majority of their time.

It was in this opening that Snotzenexer expected the attack. He was right.

"President Snotzenexer," Senator Holmsted, an alien senator from a musty, swamp-filled world began, "some of my fellow senators and I have been looking over the particulars of your health plan. As I'm sure you're well aware of, that plan, conceived almost seven months ago, is only now coming into fruition due to the long crop life of most of the chemicals and drugs included in the plan."

Senator Holmsted paused as he collected his thoughts and the senate's attention. Almost everyone already knew where this was going. "When looking down the long list of pharmaceuticals being collected, I noticed that there is a very large amount of prolanstina."

Snotzenexer said nothing. He had a very famous history of not offering any additional information during a debate. He only answered direct questions and never elaborated unless asked. This made it very hard for people to back him into corners, yet they still tried.

"Do you deny that your health organization has been collecting an extremely large amount of prolanstina?"

The question sounded silly, but since Snotzenexer was not going to speak unless spoken to, it needed to be asked. "No," the president responded.

"There is only one use for this little known bacteria." Snotzenexer remained silent. "What do you plan to do with this prolanstina?"

"Make prolan gas," Snotzenexer replied.

"You plan to make-" You plan to make prolan gas, is what Holmsted was about to say, but Snotzenexer had quite unexpectedly already admitted to the accusation. Holmsted faltered. "Do you know that prolan gas is a hallucinogenic?"

"Yes," Snotzenexer replied.

Holmsted was stumped. He had in front of him a list of purchases Snotzenexer's health organization had made. The list showed that several machines used for producing prolan gas had been bought by the health organization. There were large storage tanks for the gas as well as gas freighters for transportation. The senator also had lots of medical reports on the negative effects of prolan gas and several ordinances banning the use of the gas as a medical sedative.

Holmsted had planned to run down his evidence list in front of the senate, forcing Snotzenexer to confess to producing an illegal substance, no doubt for an extra profit. Instead, the President of the Republic had freely admitted to the crime. If there was a confession, the trial seemed insane.

Snotzenexer looked at the confused senator for several long seconds. "Do you have anything more, Senator?" Snotzenexer asked.

The next question should have been, "What do you plan to do with it?" but Holmsted was too wrapped up in what he had not said to figure out what he should say. He shook his head slowly.

Snotzenexer realized that some other senators might pick up the chase where Holmsted had left off, and quickly moved on to the next topic. The next item was a proposal to set up a senate oversight committee to look into the Trade Federation's employee contracts and determine if the organization needed to be regulated by a special committee.

If such a special committee were to be set up, it would mean a lot of extra work for quite a few senators, but since the senate as a whole felt like they had just been handed a crushing defeat on the previous topic, the motion was quickly passed and several senators spoke up to be placed on the oversight committee.

The senators loved Snotzenexer. They did not like being useless. Snotzenexer had brought incredible wealth and prosperity to the Republic since he had been elected into office. He had accomplished almost all of this by himself. It had been his bank that had jumped in and saved the Republic from financial ruin. It had been his wife (although they had not known it at the time) and her Star Destroyers that had helped bolster the Republic Navy at a time when it was suffering from lack of leadership and manpower. It had been his money that had started the new Trade Federation and health organization. Snotzenexer had had all the answers and while he operated within a senate, it seemed like he did not need one.

This oversight committee seemed like a good way to bring some of that lost control back into the senate. Snotzenexer might have created the Trade Federation, but the senate would regulate it. Several senators had half a mind to create a similar committee to oversee the health organization, especially after this revelation that it was creating an illegal drug. This committee probably would have been created, if it were not for the next item on the agenda.

Within each senate box were several other individuals besides the actual senator. Each senator had a secretary; some had two. There were aids, clerks, and assistance that often crowded into the small repulsar pads. Snotzenexer turned to someone else in his box for the next item.

"Lieutenant Kronsbin will now give an update on the rescue efforts in the Denorid system."

These updates happened once a week, and once Snotzenexer saw the report that included the prolan gas information, he made sure the update took place today. The Denorid system had been ravished with asteroids nearly a year ago, and while Snotzenexer had been responsible for the doomsday attack, he had also poured an enormous amount of resources into the rescue and aid effort.

Lieutenant Kronsbin moved toward the senate box's microphone and began his report. "The last survivors on Forinad have been evacuated to the orbiting modified Star Galleons, bringing the rescued total from Forinad to just over 5.7 million. The planet's oceans have now completely frozen over and although Republic scientists have been working a round the clock to devise a way to clean the ash cloud that covers the planet, the surface won't be fertile again for at least a hundred years after the thaw.

"The planned relocation efforts have been delayed, though, as a result of a very successful experiment in Trewist's atmosphere. Republic scientists have been able to successfully replicate a portion of Trewist's ozone layer." Trewist had suffered the least of the three inhabitable planets in the Denorid system. Denor had suffered the worst, receiving the largest amount of asteroids and had been the most densely populated. Also, because of Denor's unusually fast revolution speed, there was very little of the planet's surface that did not see some asteroid devastation. It, like Forinad, had been cast into an ice age.

Trewist had been the last planet to receive asteroids, and because of the extra time, the Republic rescue team led by Wedge had been able to reduce the rocks in size so that eighty percent of them burned up in the atmosphere. Though very little reached the surface and none of it was very big, the ozone layer had been destroyed and global temperatures on the planet in the past year had nearly doubled. The polar caps on Trewist were half way from being completely melted and very little life was left outside of the planet's arctic circles, where the temperatures were still tolerable.

"The scientists plan on continuing their ozone replication efforts and predict that Trewist will be fully repaired and capable of supporting life within two seasons."

"Excuse me," a senior senator spoke up. "How are you replicating ozone?"

"The Republic scientist are injecting an oxygenating gas into the planet's atmosphere, and with the use of modified ion cannons and a stabilizing agent consisting of nitrogen and carbon, they are able to stimulate ozone creation. Normal oxygen exists as an O2 molecule. Ozone is an allotropic form of oxygen having three atoms in each molecule: O3. It is a pale blue, highly poisonous gas with a strong odor. Ozone boils at 111.9° C, melts at -192.5° C, and has a specific gravity of 2.144. Liquid ozone is a deep blue, strongly magnetic liquid. Ozone is formed when an electric spark is passed through oxygen."

"Thank-you for the science lesson," the senior senator responded, "but hasn't ozone replication been attempted before on industrialized planets and failed? If it were just as simple as inducing an electric spark through oxygen, we would have done it a long time ago."

"Very true, senator," the Lieutenant responded. "It is much more difficult to reproduce a planet's entire natural ozone layer than it is to produce a small amount of isolated ozone. The ozone layer is a region of the atmosphere 19 to 48 km above a planet's surface. Ozone concentrations of up to 10 parts per million occur in the ozone layer. The ozone forms there naturally by the action of sunlight on oxygen. This action has been taking place for the entire life of a planet, but naturally occurring nitrogen compounds in the atmosphere keep the ozone concentration at a fairly stable level. The problem arises when the upper atmosphere is stripped of oxygen, as was the case with Trewist. The Republic scientists needed to find a way to oxygenate the planet's atmosphere in a very concentrated manner."

"And what did they use for an oxygenating gas?" the senator asked, though he thought he already knew.

"Prolan gas, sir."

The chamber was immediately filled with harsh whispers of "See I told you so." The senate had, just minutes before, been given information that painted their president as an illegal drug dealer. Most had doubted the accusations, but even the staunchest of Snotzenexer's supporters had become worried that their president might be flawed. Now they were more certain than ever that he was not. Not only was he using the gas for a very noble use, but also he was obviously very well versed in areas of science that most of the senators did not know existed.

The senate had just taken a little power away from Snotzenexer by appointing a committee to oversee his created Trade Federation, but as the young Lieutenant finished his report, they were reminded why their president had been given the reigns in the first place.

* * *

Thomas Thorin watched the proceedings with mixed emotions. He did not chide himself for not seeing that use for prolan gas, for the experiment was likely the first of its kind ever. Thomas also realized that he had underestimated Snotzenexer and had made a mistake. The collection of prolanstina had been done very publicly. The health organization had sanctioned farmers on many different worlds to grow the bacteria and the records were there for all to see.

Snotzenexer was not stupid enough to leave something so potentially illegal out in the open. While Snotzenexer still might have some devious plan for the prolan gas, he had left it out for his enemies to find and accuse him of so he could very effectively end the debate on the subject. No one would ever question Snotzenexer's collection of prolanstina or any other potentially illegal substance.

Thomas also realized why Snotzenexer had been putting so much effort into saving the planets in the Denorid system. It had not made sense before, but now Thomas understood. Snotzenexer had killed billions of people to gain power and then saved millions of them so he could justify the collection of a strong hallucinogenic. This wanton treatment of life for personal gain made Thomas sick to his stomach. At the same time, it taught Thomas a very valuable lesson: do not underestimate Snotzenexer.

* * *

"Borrel Curtis! Good to see you. Come in, come in."

Borrel walked slowly into Cayron Moall's office. The senior producer spared no expense toward his office, and Borrel looked around enviously. The lowly director had no idea why the most important producer at Torenick Broadcasting Company wanted to see him, but he bet part of it was so that Borrel could see what kind of office Cayron worked out of. The two had been fierce competitors back when Borrel worked for Porylen Entertainment Network, but after the terrorist attack on PEN's home office Borrel had been forced to swallow his pride and work for the TBC.

"Come in and have a seat, Borrel. Would you like a drink or something to eat?"

Borrel shook his head, taking a seat in front of the senior producer's immense desk. "Have you gotten a chance to look at the net reports? There's some interesting stuff out there." Cayron tossed a datapad toward Borrel.

The director picked it up and glanced at it. The report about the prolan gas was the current entry. "Yea, I saw it," Borrel spoke finally. He had been the one who had submitted it to the net in the first place.

"There's some really great stuff in that report there," Cayron said excitedly. The producer had been in a very good mood this entire week. His Snotzenexer documentary had just begun to air, and it had topped out in just about every rating chart. The documentary was planned to air for five days, but the TCB was already scrambling to try and add more so they could keep it going for eight. They were also working on language translations so they could reach a non-Basic speaking audience.

If Cayron was this excited about a report that spoke ill of his glorious Snotzenexer, then he had undoubtedly already seen what had happened in the senate when the accusation had been made. "Yes," Borrel agreed, "the report is quite interesting."

"It's too bad we'll never find out who wrote it."

"Excuse me, sir?" Borrel said.

"I mean," Cayron elaborated, "after what happened in the senate today, that report will get bumped out of the main news net in no time. It'll get bumped out unless someone picks it up and makes it commercial. A private broadcast would never survive, but the public would pay attention to it if it went commercial."

"Are you suggesting that the TCB picks up this report? We don't even know who wro-"

Cayron waived his hand at Borrel. "Of course not. TCB couldn't be responsible for a report like this. We're in the middle of the documentary. If we submitted something like this it would be a conflict of interest. However, if PEN submitted it . . ."

Borrel understood everything at once. When Borrel's old company went bankrupt after the terrorist attack, TCB had purchased the rights to most of their regular programming. Included in that purchase had been the rights to Borrel's Jedi Chronicles, which he had just completed.

"You want to use the Galactic Inquirer to publish subsequent reports," Borrel stated.

"I of course don't expect you to be able to find out who submitted this original report, but that really doesn't matter. The original was filled with lies and false reports, and I suspect you should have no problem coming up with more false accusations. I mean that's all the Galactic Inquirer did anyway."

The Galactic Inquirer had been PEN's tabloid. Borrel was not proud of it, but he realized there was a certain portion of the public who enjoyed reading about celebrity scandals and tales of the unbelievable. Borrel did not miss the implication that he was expected to run this new publication.

"Why me?"

"I know you have no real love for Snotzenexer," Cayron replied, his tone making it sound like you would have to be an idiot not to like Snotzenexer. "Besides, you have ties to Galactic Inquirer that no one else at TCB has. The one thing Snotzenexer has missed since entering office is negative publicity. I think the public needs both sides to liven things up."

You just want to see your hero refute more wild claims, making him look like a god. Cayron also wanted to tarnish PEN's image. The company was deceased, but Cayron still wanted to grind its name into the mud. If Borrel used the Galactic Inquirer to make outrages claims against Snotzenexer, it would definitely smear its image along with his own. Borrel was about to vehemently refuse to take on the degrading job to publish lies to make the TBC's documentary more successful, but then he thought twice.

If Borrel did this, he would not have to use lies. He and Thomas had uncovered an awful lot of very convincing things to charge against Snotzenexer, none of which were fabrication. While Snotzenexer might be able to defend himself against some of them, they would put doubts into people's minds.

The other side to this was that Borrel and Thomas had been searching for a way to stabilize their reports in the main news net, and this was just that way. Even though the report had been widely read and discussed, in a day or two, everyone would think that it was just lies and it would be stricken from the news net. If the Galactic Inquirer endorsed it, they could say that Snotzenexer was really a Hut in disguise and some people would believe it.

"What kind of lies were you thinking of?" Borrel asked, deciding to take the assignment, but not wanting to look pleased about it.

"Oh, I don't know," Cayron replied. "Be creative." He paused in thought. "Didn't Snotzenexer cash in on your stock right before that terrorist attack? Maybe you could blame him for that."

Borrel nearly gagged. That was exactly what they were planning to do anyway, but now the most senior producer at TBC had just sanctioned the report. This will be interesting, Borrel thought. He made a few more comments and questions before agreeing to have a second report in a couple days. Borrel left the large office in a hurry. He could not wait to talk to Thomas.

Chapter 10 "Pirates"

Derran Speedsting watched the load lifter as it carefully placed the last skid into the cargo hold of his ship. Derran had almost insisted on loading the cargo himself, but the dock foreman had ensured him that his best man was on the load lifter. Derran's Trade Federation Rep, Cal Fotch, had also expressed concern that the cargo be loaded as carefully as possible.

The foreman had thought that all the concern was misplaced. "I've made a living loading ships," he had said. "And this isn't the first time I've had to load this many MAM adapters, and I've even dealt with more expensive cargo, though not much."

Regardless of the foreman's history, this was easily the most expensive cargo Derran had hauled, ever. Even back in his smuggling days, the most expensive thing he had ever carried had been narcotics, and he never had that much invested in it since most of the shipments were stolen anyway.

He had to deliver these matter to anti-matter adapters to Celian Prime. There was an advanced fighter construction yard that was going to produce a bunch of custom designed fighters for an upcoming tournament. Derran had 48 MAM adapters loaded on his ship, and at about 500,000 credits apiece, he had a 24 million credit shipment that he was responsible for. That was over six times as much as his ship was worth, and he had a top of the line ship.

As Derran gently lifted his ship off of the landing pad, he began to understand what Solo had been talking about two weeks ago at the sabacc table. There were only a handful of ships in the Trade Federation that could make this shipment safely. You needed a very good active stabilizer to ensure a perfectly smooth flight. You need a cool dry cargo hold with foam ejection capability in case of solar storms or unseen asteroid fields that could provide a rough flight. Plus, you needed a fast ship to keep this cargo out of the hostile space lanes and to its destination as quickly as possible. Derran's ship had all these things, but he was getting no bonus for this shipment, while the Federation was going to make a fortune.

Derran had already looked at the expected flight plan and had rejected it. He had argued heavily with his TFR, but had finally convinced Cal Fotch, that he knew a short cut that would greatly improve the profit margin on this trip. Instead of skirting a treacherous asteroid belt, Derran planned on dropping out of hyperspace and going though the center of it. The middle of the belt was swamped with a thick nebula that occasionally had a stray asteroid in it, but was much faster than going around the whole thing.

Derran keyed in the appropriate coordinates to bring him right to the edge of the nebula, a good seven hours away by hyperspace. The ship accelerated smoothly into hyperspace and Derran decided to take a nap to calm his nerves.

* * *

The Needle Hole Nebula was legendary among smugglers. It was not on most star charts and few nav coms recognized its existence, but most smugglers would tell you that it had saved their butts more than once.

The Kessel Run was also legendary, and everyone knew what it consisted of, but what most did not realize was that there was a little known hyperspace route off the end of the run that led directly to a secret smuggler's moon. The moon had some of the best repair facilities and most intoxicating drinks and women anywhere. There were plenty of ways to get there, but the best was by threading the needle directly after the Kessel Run.

The Needle Hole Nebula was in the center of a very large ring of asteroids. There had once been a tiny sun, barely larger than a small planet, in the center of the asteroid ring, but a collision with a good size comet had fizzled the sun into a thick, misty nebula. The asteroids continued their flat orbit in homage to their fallen gravity well.

The thing that made the shot from the Kessel Run through the nebula so tricky was the angle of approach. The asteroid rotation was shaped like a thick disk, and the angle of approach from the Kessel Run was nearly 180 degrees. There were Imperial systems all around the asteroid belt, so going around it would certainly run you into a wandering interdictor cruiser.

Whenever an Imperial ship chased a smuggler through the Kessel Run and saw the ship take off in the direction of the Needle Hole Nebula, they assumed that their associates in one of the neighboring systems would pick them up and they gave up the chase. The Imperials did not know about threading the needle, they just saw an asteroid field surrounded by Imperial space.

Threading the needle became harder and harder as the years went on, for every time a young smuggler tried the famed maneuver and was off by a fraction of a degree, his ship would smash into the asteroids, showering the nebula with shrapnel and making it harder for the next person to make it safely. In the years right before the Rebellion, almost no one tried to thread the needle anymore, and everyone took the much more popular route towards Corellia.

Lando was sitting in the middle of the Needle Hole Nebula waiting for Derran Speedsting to make his appearance. Lando had threaded the needle exactly four times in his life, and would not dream of trying it again. He knew that Derran claimed to have done it at least a dozen times, but almost everyone doubted that. Regardless of past threads, Lando knew Derran was going to try it this time.

Speedsting was not coming from Kessel and he was not going to the smuggler's moon. Instead, his route ran nearly perpendicular to the flat disk of asteroids. If trying to pass through the nebula from Kessel was likened to threading a needle, taking the route Derran was using could be likened to tossing a small rock into a large ocean. Still, with the increased rock content of the nebula from all the failed attempts at threading the needle in the past, Lando sincerely doubted Derran was going to traverse the nebula in hyperspace. It was only a two hour trip through in normal space, and probably much less for Derran's ship.

Lando was convinced that Derran would take it because Thomas had told him he would. Trade Federation Traders got paid in light years traveled between pickup and delivery, but the distance was taken off the standard shipping route. Threading the needle was definitely not the standard route. Taking the Needle Hole short cut would cut the distance in half without decreasing Derran's pay. Plus, the standard route went around the nebula and the surrounding systems, bringing the cargo very near to the old smuggler's moon. There were still quite a few unsavory types that inhabited the moon, and if they spotted a cargo ship like Derran's on radar, they might think it was a nice time for a pirate attack. If you tried to go around the nebula in the other direction, you headed toward Kessel, and hyperspace routes that went near the Maw were very time consuming.

All in all, Lando felt fairly confident Derran would be showing up at the nebula any minute now. He was in a pirate ship he had purchased from the Republic military. With Sanson at the helm of the Republic Navy, pirate attacks had become very sparse and known pirate fleets were being rounded up every month. The ships would be stripped of illegal weapons and put on public auction. Lando had been worried that he might get attacked again at his valuable asteroid mine, and thought he needed more firepower than the Lady Luck provided.

Lando had looked at several dozen captured pirate ships and had finally settled on a very new Skipray Blastboat. It had been modified to include a much larger cargo bay. There had been a lot of engine enhancements and weapon advances, all of which had been disconnected before it was put on public auction. Lando had picked it up for 1.2 million, a steal he thought. He then proceeded to replace all of the modifications that had been removed. All of the corresponding software had remained and it had just been Lando's job to find the hardware.

He had named the ship "Cryst Protector" to try and let everyone know what it was for. He had just spent the past two days preparing the enlarged cargo hold to accommodate four crates that would be holding twelve MAM adapters each. It was not that he needed extra room, he just needed to be extra careful.

The ship's sensors were useless in the thick nebula, but that was one of the reasons he had brought Yova along with him. The young woman was not as powerful a Jedi as Trince had been, but she excelled at the mental aspects of the Force. Trince had been a great fighter and had been the main reason Lando had a mining operation at all. Both he and Yova had helped deactivate all of the Imperial traps that had plagued Lando and his team when they first opened the mines.

Trince had then been a great help at locating rich crystal deposits and in excavating them. Yova had proven her worthfullness when it came to hiring a work force. Lando had a core group of people that he had hired from the start to help him open the mine and get it started, but when it came down to harvesting the crystals, Lando needed a much larger work force. Yova came from a race of people that until only a couple hundred years ago had lived exclusively underground. That experience coupled with her ability to understand people's minds made her the perfect foreman. She was also an incredible medic, and though she was not as good a fighter as Trince, had helped immensely when Lando had had to fight off two different theft attempts.

"Another ship is coming," Yova said finally after two hours of waiting.

"How many people aboard?" Lando asked.

"There are two people, both human males. One is about 60 standard years old, while the other is around 35. Only one of them is awake."

"The older one?" Lando asked, knowing that Derran would be flying the ship right now. Yova nodded. "What about their defenses?"

"The ship has both particle and energy shields in place. They are at one hundred percent. Weapons are off-line."

"He's not expecting anyone," Lando said mostly to himself. "Since his sensors aren't worth anything, he's probably got everything poured into his shields. He doesn't want a stray rock to jostle his cargo. Can you shut down his shields?" Lando asked hopefully.

Yova shook her head. "We talked about this earlier. I am not familiar with electronic devices. I can not control his ship."

Lando nodded. They had talked about this before. That was when they decided to bring Lobot along. The cyborg had been a close friend of Lando's ever since Cloud City and he would again prove useful now. Though Yova lacked skill in many of the technical venues in which other Jedi excelled, she surpassed everyone with her mental ability.

Working in conjunction with Lobot, Yova was able to connect the cyborg with Derran's ship through the Hamarian interface band implanted in Lobot's head. Soon Lobot acknowledged that he could control the ship.

"Wait until the ship is in range and drop the energy shields. I then need four precise shots from the ion cannons. Two into his weapon systems and two into his engines."

Lobot nodded. Without accurate sensors, the task would be difficult, but with Yova's help, Lobot should not have a problem.

* * *

Derran did not bother to wake Cal. He was not exactly sure what the TFR did all day to earn his paycheck, and he did not really care. All Derran wanted to do was get this shipment to the shipyards at Celian Prime as quickly as possible.

The proximity sensors began to fade in and out, and Derran tried to boost power to them. They were surrounded by thick water vapor and random power fluctuations from a dead sun that was still wretching, and the sensors could not be trusted too much, but they were still his only guard for the random asteroids that floated through the nebula. The sensors began returning a more positive signal in response to Derran's power adjustment, and the pilot moved to adjust the power settings on his shields. He lessened the amount to the energy shields and strengthened the particle shields.

His energy shields suddenly dropped to nothing. Derran quickly checked his adjustment to make sure he had not turned them all the way off. A split second later the ship was rocked by four ion blasts and then held tight by a tractor beam. Derran swore.

Cal Fotch came racing into the cockpit wearing very few clothes. "What in blazes did you run into?"

"Pirates," Derran said bluntly.

"I told you we should have taken the standard route. You and your short cuts. If you would just listen to me we woul-"

Derran slapped him hard. "Shut up!" He was getting out of his pilot chair and moving over to a storage bin just outside the cockpit. "No one, and I mean no one, threads the needle anymore. This nebula has virtually no traffic. There is absolutely no reason for pirates to be out here. I took this route because the other one took us too close to a pirate hangout."

"If they're not supposed to be here, then why are they here?"

"Just like Solo said," Derran muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"They hacked into the Federation computers. They saw that I was taking a shipment to the Celian system and knew I would take this shortcut."

"If no one is supposed to know about it, how could they count on it?"

"You idiot! I told you, they saw I was taking the shipment. Old smugglers think alike."

Cal really had no idea what Derran was talking about. All he knew was the Federation owned a 24 million credit shipment that was about to be taken by pirates. "You are going to be in hot water with the Trade Federation after I report this incidence."

"Would you shut up! We're in hot water now." Derran popped the lock on the storage bin and reached into the back to click open a hidden compartment. Derran pulled out the ugliest looking blaster Cal had ever seen (not that the TFR had been around that much).

"What is this?" he asked, holding the weapon like it was the foulest thing imaginable.

"It's a Gamorrian plasma slug thrower. It'll shoot through most ships' hulls without a second thought, so be careful with it."

"You can't have this aboard a TF sanctioned ship. This is highly illegal."

Derran pulled a much bigger weapon from the secret compartment and flipped several switches on it so the high-powered energy rifle could power up. "Two things. One, this is my ship, not the Trade Federation's. I will keep whatever weapons I want on it. Second, if you don't like it, fire me. In the meantime, I'm about to risk my life to save your company's money, so you can try to sound grateful."

By now Lando was asking the Nubian Chill Freighter to stand down and prepare to be boarded. Cal was looking at the com unit, wondering if he should answer the call. Derran saw the glances Cal was giving the com unit and reached under the console to rip out the wires to the communication device. "I don't think so," Derran said.

* * *

On board Cryst Protector, Lando was maneuvering his ship to dock with Derran's. They had not answered his calls, but Lando had not thought they would. He expected a fight, and he was determined to keep it from being a deadly one. The two ships were soon close enough to dock, and Lando extended the mating sleeve. As soon as he attained a pressure sleeve around the lock, Lando and Mansenchin raced down the corridor to the outer hatch. They both had heavy blasters, but knew Derran had a much more extensive cache of weapons.

Lando and Mansenchin stood with their backs to the hatch on either side and around the corners of the entryway so they were out of the direct line of fire. Lando held his breath and remotely opened the hatch between the docked ships. Before the door was fully opened, repeating laser rifle fire came ripping into Lando's ship, turning the entryway into Calamarian cheese.

The fire stopped for a brief moment, and Lando could here Derran arguing with his TFR.

"What are you doing? You're going to kill everyone on board!"

"I hope so," Derran replied. "Or would you rather me let them have your precious cargo?" Derran raised his voice to shout at the, as of yet, unseen pirates. "You cowards going to show yourself, or am I going to have to come in to get you?!"

Lando looked across the entryway at Mansenchin who was about to spin around the corner and open fire, but another barge of laser rifle fire lit up the entryway. Lando looked in the other direction where Yova was standing. "Can you stun them on my command?"

"I can knock them unconscious if you want."

Lando shook his head. "I don't want them to think a Jedi was involved. It would point the finger at our group for responsibility." Lando took a deep breath and pulled a mask over his face. Mansenchin did likewise. "When we spin around the corner, stun them," Lando said. Yova nodded.

Lando looked across at Mansenchin again and when the laser fire stopped again, Lando held up three fingers and slowly counted down to one.

Derran saw the two masked men spin around and was just ready to open fire, when he suddenly stumbled backwards as if fighting off a migraine. Before he could recover, The two men both hit him with stun blasts, and he went sprawling. Lando raced forward to pick up the fallen weapon, and Mansenchin followed.

The Federation rep had not been in the line of fire, and the two pirates found Cal cowering in his quarters. Soon, both Federation employees were tied up in their quarters, with Mansenchin standing over them. Now that Cal realized he was not going to die, he suddenly became very brave.

"You guys are never going to unload the cargo, you know. Your Skipray doesn't have the ability to do a cargo bay dock with this ship. Even if you could, you'd never be able to find a market for 48 MAM adapters. You've just wasted everyone's time."

Derran felt like slapping him again, but his hands were tied. He had just told this man ten minutes ago that they had sliced the Federation computers to make this pirate hit. These pirates knew exactly what ship Derran was flying and knew exactly what he was carrying. The hit was done so smoothly that to think for a moment these men did not have a way to transfer the cargo or they did not already have a customer lined up for delivery was ludicrous.

Mansenchin could barely hold in his laughter. Lando had told him not to talk with the prisoners, but this man was an idiot. "We've wasted your time?! Is that what your worried about? What are they paying you an hour? I'll reimburse you if it's that big a deal. I think you should be far more worried that you guys just lost 24 million credits with nothing but a weaponless ship with a blown sublight drive to show for it."

Cal clamed up after that rebuke. Now he was beginning to worry about how they were going to get out of the nebula. The ion blasts shorted-out the sublight drive. If they had to traverse the rest of the nebula with thrusters, it would take them over a month.

Yova, Lando, and Lobot were busy solving the problem that Cal had pointed out earlier. It was true that the two ships could not dock their cargo bays in space. Instead, Lando and Lobot had evacuated both cargo holds while Yova used the Force to transfer the four crates from Derran's ship, through empty space, and into the Cryst Protector. Once all four crates were safely transferred, Lando pressurized both holds and went into Derran's to steal all of his safety harnesses. The crates seemed uninjured from the four ion blasts, and Lando took extra care as he secured them in his hold.

Mansenchin got word that they were done, and he bid his leave of his captures. "Have a nice day gentlemen, and please do bill me for your lost time."

It took about five minutes to make sure their getaway was clean and that they had not left any evidence behind. After that, Lando sped away from the stationary ship, leaving the two men to fend for themselves. He did not feel too guilty about leaving them stranded. He knew Derran was resourceful enough to get out of the nebula without too much trouble.

* * *

Derran was out of his bonds just minutes after Mansenchin had left them. He raced to the cockpit, but the other ship was already out of sensor range. In this pea soup, that was not saying much, but without even a guess in a direction, Derran's still functional torpedoes would be useless. Derran returned to his quarters and saw that Cal was struggling hopelessly with his bonds.

Despite Mansenchin's considerable skill at tying knots, Derran had freed himself easily, but Cal would remain secured until someone untied him. Derran had half a mind to leave him tied up until they got back to civilization, which might not be that soon. He figured he was in enough trouble as it was and decided not to make matters worse.

"You are going to have to answer for this debacle," Cal fumed once he was released. "I'll be surprised if they let you keep your ship."

Derran turned sharply on the rep and nearly decked him. Cal retreated visibly. The Trade Federation could fire him. They could even charge him for the lost cargo, but they could never remove him from his ship. Derran was about to say as much, but held his tongue. "What's the use," he muttered.

"So how are we going to get out of here?" Cal finally asked, deciding to change the subject to more pressing matters.

"We don't have sublight engines, but we still have the hyperdrive engines."

"What good are they going to do in this mess? Your navcom won't be able to calculate a path from here to Celian."

He was right, but still an idiot. "Why do we want to go to Celian? We lost our cargo if you remember. I see no reason to go there. What we need to do is repair our, uh, my sublight drive."

"What better place than the Celian Shipyards."

"True," Derran admitted the point, "but like you said my navcom can't calculate that jump. I do, however have a different jump we can take. This ship has done it a dozen times before. This time it will be much easier since we are already halfway through the needle."

It was true that Derran had used the Needle Hole Nebula to avoid the smuggler's moon, but now that they had no cargo, he felt pretty safe revisiting the hostile environment. A few of the old timers who still worked there owed him a few favors and he could not think of a better place to get his ship repaired.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sit back, Cal. You're about to thread the needle. It's something to tell your kids about."

"I don't have any kids."

"Just shut up, will you."

* * *

Lando landed his purchased pirate ship on the Yavin moon without much fanfare. Mara and Ra'tok were waiting for him when he left the ship. Lando had dropped his other companions back at the asteroid mine before making the trip to the Academy. He shook hands with the small welcoming party.

"It is good to see you again, Lando," Ra'tok said in his gruff voice.

"Likewise," Lando responded.

Mara was a little less positive in her greeting, still trying to figure out what the entrepreneur was doing here. She finally gave up and asked. "What in blazes are you doing here, Calarissian?"

"It's good to see you too, Mara. I'm just dropping by with a couple presents for a Vince Trimpo."

"That's me," Vince spoke up, walking toward the group. Vince had seen the ship land and left his work with the TIE's to see who it was. "Hi Lando."

Lando had flown with the 185th back against the Dark Ring and held the three pilots in the utmost respect. He had taken it very hard when they had lost Jon. "I've got a ship full of MAM adapters and was wondering if you knew what I could do with them?"

Vince was busy wiping some grease of his hands with a cloth and froze. "Please tell me you're not joking."

Lando shook his head, smiling broadly at the response Vince was giving him. The tall pilot looked like a kid at his birthday party. "Be careful when you unload them. I'll expect the 24 million credit payment in monthly installments over the next four years."

Vince paid no attention to the sarcasm and had already left to get a load lifter. Mara knew that this was not a chance occurrence. "Who have you been talking to, and where did you get these adapters?"

"Thomas called me up a while back and told me you guys needed these things. He told me when a shipment was coming, who'd be flying them, and how I could hijack them. It worked great."

Mara's face was quickly matching her hair. "I told everyone not to abuse Ghent's position, and what does he do! If Snotzenexer finds out we have access to the Trade Federation we'll be out of business faster than a Gamorrian beauty parlor."

"Easy, Mara," Lando tried to calm her. "Everything's cool. No one knows what we did. Besides, Thomas killed two birds with one stone on this one because the guy we robbed knows Han and is now probably going to help him set up that union he wants."

Mara considered this, knowing that Thomas would make sure any plan was carefully laid out. Still, Snotzenexer was not a dummy. They needed to be more careful, and she would make a note to have Thomas tell her about all other such plans in the future.

Mara was so lost in thought that she did not see Angelic, one of the female students at the Academy approach. "Master Jade," she said quietly, not wanting to disturb her thoughts.

Mara was not a master or anywhere near even just a Jedi, but since Luke had left, she had usurped the command of this jungle moon from Masters Streen and Tionne. The students had gotten into the habit of calling Mara, "Master Jade," and she had not found the strength to refuse the tittle yet.

"Yes," Mara responded without really listening.

"We are out of supplies," Angelic said blatantly.

Mara knew this time would come but she did not want to have to deal with it. In this time of turmoil with Luke running about the galaxy, Snotzenexer in charge, and Jedi held in general disregard, the Academy was not holding its usual classes. Instead the students kept themselves busy by helping with the rebuilding of the Academy. After the attack some eight months ago now, the Republic had flooded the moon with hundreds of tons of building supplies, but that flood had slowed to a trickle when Snotzenexer took office, and now they had run dry.

Mara was just about to tell the young student to go to Streen and leave her alone, when Vince came bouncing from his examination of the MAM adapters. At least someone was in a good mood. "They'll be perfect," he said. "We should be able to fit all the TIE's in a matter of days. We still don't have any pilots, but we will definitely have ships."

Angelic was still looking at Mara expectantly. "What shall we do now?"

Why was everyone coming to her with their problems? Vince needed pilots; the students needed something to do; Thomas was- She paused in thought. "Angelic," she asked slowly, "have you ever flown anything before?"

The young girl shook her head. "How many students are there?"

"About 30," Angelic replied.

"I want you to gather everyone in the main hall," Mara said to Angelic. The girl ran off to do as she was told. Mara turned to Vince. "I found your pilots."

Vince had learned to fly when he was 14, and even though Angelic looked to be much older than that, Vince knew there were several students as young as 10. "I hope this works."

"They're Jedi students," Mara said confidently. "They'll learn quickly and perform well." If only all my other problems could solve each other like this, she thought.

Chapter 11 "The Exterminators"

Sandie Hollins stared at her screen with frustration. She was checking and rechecking her access codes and authority matrices and coming up empty time and time again. When she had spoken to President Loyran last weekend, he had given her a valuable piece of advice: "Try to make sure you're not expendable."

Ever since that meeting she had been trying to tie herself down to the bank's proceedings so it could not function without her, but she was being rejected at every turn. To her it looked like the bank had turned into an automated monster. Someone or something else was handling all of its important functions. While she could still buy and sell under her own authority, someone else was doing the same, often undoing her own moves.

The feeling of uselessness was very depressing. To her this bank was no longer the home office but just a local branch, and she was no longer the president, but merely a body in a chair in the president's office.

She relaxed a bit, letting her arms, which had been busy at the keyboard, fall on her desk. Sandie instantly recoiled her left arm as she felt something move underneath it. She found herself staring at a roach crawling across her desktop. The idea that an insect of that size could have gotten into her office was ludicrous. As soon as this shock wore off, her female instincts took over, and she found something to squash it.

It was not an especially big bug, but the bank should have been too tight to let anything in. She might have to look into the integrity of the bank's foundation to see if there were any cracks in the- She stopped that train of thought as soon as she realized what she was thinking. Had she turned into a janitor? Were her most important duties now looking after the actual building as opposed to what went on inside it? Two months ago, the bank's finances went up and down on her command. Now she was organizing raids against insects.

Her com unit interrupted this line of thought before it depressed her too much. "President Hollins, there is a man here to see you. He says he is from the Association and that you requested his services."

The bodyguard she had asked for was finally here. Sandie did not really know why she had wanted a bodyguard. She did not feel she was in any physical danger from Snotzenexer, just political danger. Still, she had the money to spend, and a little extra protection could not hurt.

"Tell him I'll be ready to go to lunch in two hours and he can meet me in the lobby."

There was a short pause before the receptionist responded. "He seems rather insistent that he speaks with you now."

Sandie sighed, stupid grunt probably. "Very well. Send him up."

Eran entered Sandie's office a few minutes later. Both were rather surprised at what they saw. Eran had never seen the bank president before, and he had expected her to be a lot older. Sandie, on the other hand, had expected her bodyguard to be a lot bigger.

While she had waited for Eran, Sandie had gone back to scanning through all of the checks and balances that were stealing power from her and delegating it to some unknown third party. Now she wanted to seem aloof and went back to looking at her screen.

"What's Snotzenexer up to now?" Eran asked innocently.

"He's stealing all my power, turning this branch into a pu-" she started to say before she realized that the question had not been asked by her inner voice but by her bodyguard. "I mean he's planning to initiate the heal-"

"I believe what you said the first time. It matches the man I met a lot better than what he's shown to the public."

"You've met President Snotzenexer?" Sandie asked, disbelieving the claim.

Eran's composure was not shaken by her tone. "I met Snotzenexer about eight months ago aboard a Super Star Destroyer hidden in the Varion asteroid belt. He hired me to steal the financial records of the Republic. I did so, and two weeks later he was the new President of the Republic. The man I know doesn't create corporate mergers or initiate stock market miracles. The man I know kills billions of innocents with asteroids and calls himself an Imperial Admiral."

Sandie was stunned. President Loyran had said something about Snotzenexer's possible Imperial background, but even Loyran thought Snotzenexer was innocent of any major wrong doing. This claim that Snotzenexer was responsible for the Denorid disaster was totally out of the blue. Also the idea that Snotzenexer had planned the fall of the Republic by stealing its financial records and acting upon them meant that the accident at the Xentin Mining Corporation was not an accident either.

"Who are you?" Sandie asked finally.

"My name is Eranadis Palpatine. Snotzenexer sought me out because of my last name with some hope that I had Force abilities. I don't. Instead he used me as a thief. Since then I've had no contact with him, though if he knew where I was, he'd probably try to have me killed."

"What proof do you have of what you said earlier?"

"I don't need any," Eran replied. "You already believe me."

He was right. For some reason, it all made sense. Snotzenexer was an Imperial Admiral and had planned everything out. Sandie had held Snotzenexer in very high regard when she had been an outsider. He had been a financial god who could turn a whim into a hundred million credits in a heartbeat. The idea that someone could be that lucky went against everything she had believed in. It should have set off all kinds of bells and whistles in her mind, but instead she got swept up in the magic of it like the rest of the galaxy.

"I am here because you asked for protection," Eran continued, "though I doubt you realized what kind of danger you are really in." Eran paused. "I told you what I know, now you tell me what you know."

Sandie looked at her computer screen, too taken up in this trading of knowledge to analyze whether she should oblige this young man. "He is stealing all of my power."

"All of YOUR power?" Eran asked.

"Well, all of this bank's power. This used to be the focal point for all of the Republic's major finances and trading. Either Snotzenexer has moved those accounts elsewhere, or he is somehow controlling the trades and investments remotely. Either way, this bank hasn't made any major transactions of galactic importance in quite a while. All we do now is service our local customer's accounts and deal with some of the local governments. We could do that out of a side office, really. This bank was busier before Snotzenexer took charge than it is now."

Sandie lost her train of thought as she saw another roach crawling on the floor. She quickly stomped on it and looked up at Eran. "We have some how developed a bug problem."

Eran had not seen the roach, as he was standing on the other side of the desk. "Are you saying this office is bugged?" Eran asked, suddenly very quiet.

"No," Sandie replied. "We have a real bug pro-" she stopped cold.

Eran raced around the desk and the two of them peered at the remains of the bug Sandie had squashed. It looked organic, but the remains were too mashed to really tell. Eran scanned the seam of the wall along the carpet and picked out a pair of black antennae. He quickly leaped over to the spot and expertly plucked up the offending bug.

Sandie was amazed at his agility and watched as he analyzed the live bug between his finger and thumb. After a few seconds of examination, Eran slowly crushed the bug in front of his face. He tossed the dead bug in the trashcan with a shake of his head. "They're real," he said.

"I'm getting too jumpy to stay cooped up in this office. Are you up to an early lunch?" Sandie asked.

Eran was looking around the room slowly, seeing if he could find another bug, organic or otherwise. "Sure."

Sandie pressed the com unit on her desk. "Alicsia," she called her secretary, "has anyone noticed a bug problem down there?"

"Not that I know of," came the response.

"Well could you call an extermination service. I've noticed a few bugs in my office."

"Sure thing."

Sandie severed the connection. "This is one thing I can handle," she said with a forced smile.

The two of them walked out of her office and took the turbolift down. As they walked past Alicsia's desk, the secretary stopped her boss. "A few other's have noticed some roaches," the secretary confirmed with a very repulsed look. "I'll try to get someone in here about them before lunch."

"Speaking of lunch," Sandie responded, "I'm going to take an early one. If anyone calls tell them I'll be back in an hour and a half."

With that, Eran and Sandie left the building.

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Eran said 45 minutes later, stuffing a piece of char-broiled steak in his mouth, "your bank has no purpose anymore?"

"It's not that severe," Sandie responded, taking a sip of non-alcoholic wine. "The bank here on Iom is just not the main office anymore. We are just another branch. We might be the branch to Iom, the economic hub of the system, but it's still just a branch. Before I could make moves that would affect every other branch whether it be on Vario or in the next system. Now all I can do is make changes to this bank's holdings."

"But why would Snotzenexer do this?" Eran asked. "He might do a lot of strange things, but they all have a reason. If he is removing power from this bank it has to be because he either wants to move it somwhere else, or he just doesn't want you to have it."

"Maybe he feels too distant from Iom," Sandie guessed. "He used to control everything and now he is more like a spectator. I mean he can still influence this bank, but he doesn't have the same clout over in Coruscant."

"He's not insecure," Eran argued. "He wouldn't be doing this just so he can be back in the drivers seat. He wants to go somewhere with it."

"I get the feeling that he is trying to take over. I mean he's done it with so many other things in the past. He took over this bank; he took over the VCY; he took over the Republic; he started the Trade Federation. The problem with that idea is that he already has control of this bank. If he wanted me or anyone else gone all he would have to do is fire me or close the bank. He has the authority."

"It has to be something else," Eran said thoughtfully. "If I understand things correctly, Snotzenexer has made the Varion Imperial Bank the financial backbone of all his endeavors, including the Republic. He can't just automate that bank and expect it to function properly. I guess if it were me I would want the bank's home office to be moved to Coruscant."

"Then why not do it?" Sandie asked. "He could build a new home office in a matter of weeks with all the money he has. Why is he going through all this secret maneuvering?"

"Snotzenexer has always played to the crowd," Eran said. "If he can get the masses to agree with him than he feels he can take on anything. There must be some publicity reason for not making the move out in the open."

"Well I don't see how he can possibly make a move to Coruscant unless he does it in the open. I mean, he still needs a branch on Coruscant and the VIB doesn't have one."

"What if he uses an existing building and just renovates it?" Eran asked.

"I guess you don't know Snotzenexer after-all. Or maybe you just don't know Coruscant. The only vacant buildings are half a kilometer below the upper surface. Snotzenexer will need the tallest building on Coruscant, not a renovated slum under the city."

"What if he buys out another bank? He's done that enough, hasn't he?"

Sandie smiled at Eran's idiocy. "Eran, there is only one bank on Coruscant. It is the Coruscant Galactic Bank. The CGB is bigger than all of Snotzenexer's previous purchases combined. Maybe four times as big."

"What about a merger?"

Eran just would not give up, would he? Sandie was about to shoot down this idea too, but she stopped. "If he did that he would literally control everything. The big wigs at the CGB would never accept it though. Snotzenexer would really have to sweeten the deal for them."

"What if he promised to move the home office to Coruscant and close this branch?"

Sandie stopped her fork halfway to her mouth. "Check please!"

* * *

"This is crazy," Sandie said for the tenth time in the last 15 minutes. She and Eran were walking up the steps to the main entrance of the VIB. Eran saw two airvans parked in front of the building with pictures of dying bugs painted on the side.

"It looks like the exterminators are here," Eran pointed out.

Sandie did not hear him. "The idea is simply ludicrous. Snotzenexer would never be so bold."

They walked into the front lobby and walked past a man in coveralls pushing a small tank of gas on a repulsar sled. "The exterminators are setting up their equipment before lunch and will be back in an hour," Alicsia called to them as they walked to the turbolift, but Sandie only had one thing on her mind.

Eran did take the time to look around the open office area. There were lines of desks on either side of the main aisleway that led toward the turbo lift. Desks lined the aisle and the exterminators' gas tanks lined the walls behind them positioned one every ten meters. It seemed like an awful lot of gas to Eran. He shrugged, maybe the bugs were worse than they had thought.

The two of them got into the turbo lift and were whisked up to Sandie's top office. The ride lasted about 30 seconds. The doors opened at the top, and an exterminator was waiting for them. The man seemed a bit nervous and very startled that there was someone else in the turbo lift. To Eran the man looked like a curious houseguest who got caught wandering around upstairs while everyone else was downstairs at the party.

Sandie strolled right past the exterminator, but Eran did a double take. The man stepped into the turbo lift and pressed the button for the main floor. He looked at Eran curiously, wondering if the young man was going to stay or get off. Eran was struck by something in the man's eyes. There seemed to be fear, but something else too. Recognition? Eran was not sure, but he had to follow Sandie or he would find himself in the lobby if he stayed in the lift any longer.

Eran exited, still looking at the man as the doors closed between them. "I think I know him," Eran said.

"What?" Sandie shouted from the end of the hall as she prepared to open her office door. There was a canister of bug gas sitting outside her door. "Are you coming?"

"I said I think I kn-" Eran started but saw the Sandie was not really listening. He jogged after her, and the two of them entered her office.

Sandie quickly tossed her coat on a couch and plopped behind her desk. "If Snotzenexer is moving into the CGB, there should be some kind of evidence."

Eran was still puzzled about his odd encounter a few moments ago. "Wouldn't you have already found it?"

"Not if I didn't know what to look for. All of our main accounts with the Trade Federation, the Coruscant Shipyards, the new health organization, and so on have been frozen. At least they appear frozen to me. If someone else activated them, then I should be able to see that." She typed for a couple minutes while Eran remained silent. "Here," she finally said. "Eran, come have a look at this."

"Huh?"

"Eran," she looked up from her screen. Eran was staring out the window. "Eran! What's wrong?"

Eran shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just know I've seen that guy before."

"What guy?"

"The exterminator guy. His face seemed so familiar, I . . . I just . . . ARGH, I just can't remember from where."

"So you bumped into him on the street before, big deal. This is important. Come over here and look at this."

Eran shook his head clear again. He walked over and saw a screen full of stock market jumble that he could not begin to understand. "Right here," Sandie pointed to a bunch of figures and symbols, "is the Trade Federation's holdings. After the senate hearings yesterday, announcing that there will be an oversight committee to look into its employee contracts, one would expect a lot of activity, but you can see that it hasn't moved. That is what I'm seeing. Now look at this." Sandie called up a bunch of other figures. "This is the report given out by the CGB. They show the Trade Federation taking a hit on the stock market."

Sandie looked up at Eran. "You're right. Snotzenexer is planning a move. He's already started to move the main stock accounts. He's still got a lot to do though. He might have command of the stocks, but he's still got to have someone supervise the transfer of all the main accounts. I mean he's got a long way to go in order to bridge the gap between Iom and Coruscant."

Eran was only half listening, his mind searching out his long-term memory. A few of the words Sandie said were triggering his mind. "Command, supervise, bridge." He paused while Sandie just stared at him. "Not supervise - super." Then it hit him.

"I met Snotzenexer on the bridge of a Super Star Destroyer," he said excitably.

"You already told me that," Sandie replied.

"Command. I saw the bridge commander on the Super Star Destroyer," he finally put everything together. "That guy in the turbo lift was the bridge commander on the Super Star Destroyer when I met Snotzenexer."

"What are you trying to say?" Sandie asked, more than a little confused.

Eran's mind was working double time now. "You know what happened to Custom Shields Galactica?"

"Yea," Sandie responded, slightly surprised at the sudden change of topic. She had been one of the people most intimately involved with those proceedings. "The facility was destroyed by the bacta faction, but since Snotzenexer was part owner, he was able to move the factory out here while still keeping the patent titles legal." Sandie paused when she heard what she said and what Eran was getting at. "That's a crazy idea. Snotzenexer isn't going to blow this place up just so he can move it. There are much better ways to close this place down."

Eran was racing about the room, beating his head with his hands and trying to think things through. "What did you know about Snotzenexer before I came here this morning?"

"I knew he had stolen money, laundered money, and cheated on taxes. There were a lot of other things that I guessed at based on what I saw in the computer records but nothing that I could say for sure."

"I bet those other things implied what I told you earlier, right?" Eran was looking out the window now, seeing that the exterminators were loading their repulsar sleds into the airvans.

"Pretty much," Sandie said, getting a little nervous.

"And how easy would it be to erase those records or maybe cover them up?"

"Impossible," Sandie said. "I can't even adjust them. They are locked into the system and the only way to get rid of the evidence would be to . . ." she paused dramatically. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Snotzenexer put bugs in your bank so you would call the exterminators and give him the perfect opportunity to fill your bank with bombs." The image of all the bug gas canisters lined up along the main floor walls was permanently implanted in Eran's mind.

"We need to call the local authorities," Sandie said, reaching for her com unit.

"Negative," Eran said. He was watching through the window as the airvans left. "It's too late. We need to get out of here now." Eran grabbed Sandie's wrist and ran for the turbo lift.

"But-" Sandie started as she was jerked forward. "But he wouldn't blow up the building with everyone in it. That's insanity. He'd do it at night."

"How many people know what you know?" Eran asked as the turbo lift came whisking up to the top floor.

"No one else, I think. I don't know."

"Neither does Snotzenexer, and he doesn't want to take any chances. Besides, would your bank let the extermination service keep their gas canisters in the bank over night?"

The lift opened and the two scared individuals got in. Eran pressed the button for the main floor and started to count the seconds. "Come on," he started saying every other second. Thirty seconds was a very long time when you were waiting for an explosion to blow you to pieces.

Eran knew they were too late before the explosion came. "Get down!" He shoved Sandie to the floor as a huge explosion from above shook the turbo shaft.

Turbo lifts operate on tractor beam technology. The beam emitter is usually found on the top of the building. Eran knew how he would have taken out this building had it been a terrorist organization in the middle of town, and he did not want anything around the building destroyed. With one or two bombs per floor and the explosions traveling down from the top and then blowing out the entire lower level, the gutted upper levels would fall into a nice, neat heap.

The lift began to fall as soon as the top floor went, blowing apart the tractor beam emitter. The lift fell for two floors before the safety brakes caught hold. "Where does this shaft go?" Eran asked as he pulled out one of his borrowed lightsabers. He had maybe three seconds before the traveling explosions reached their current level.

"Straight down to the underground vault," Sandie shouted above the sound of the building exploding about them.

Even if she had said, "Straight down to the lava pools," Eran would have still attacked the brakes. He slashed quickly and efficiently into the top edge of the lift, slicing through the walls of the box, and destroying the safety brakes. The lift resumed its plummet just a fraction of a second ahead of the descending destruction. The top of the lift was ripped off as the floor directly above them was swamped with flame.

Eran was thrown to his back, and he and Sandie watched in horror through the top of the convertible lift as the flames chased them down the shaft. They fell faster and faster, leaving the explosions above them. Eran watched as they passed the main floor, continuing down into the sub-basement and the vault bellow. The explosions reached the main floor just a second later and the noise was deafening.

The ground shook violently and flames screamed down the narrow shaft, the visible heat expanding much faster than gravity allowed them to fall. The natural thing for a heat explosion to do was rise, and the flames only licked the top of their falling lift before evacuating the long shaft and rising into the sky far above.

The turbo lift had one more safety feature that saved the pair's life. Safety foam with the consistency of very thick cream had filled the bottom of the shaft the moment the brakes had been destroyed. The lift made a terrible slurping and sucking sound as it hit the foam, shooting the creamy white substance upward between the lift and the shaft and showering its occupants as the foam came over the open top.

Sandie was ecstatic they were alive, but Eran was still looking above, watching as tons of flaming shrapnel were cascading down toward them. With his lightsaber still in hand, Eran cut a hole in the non-functioning doors and pulled Sandie out of the lift just moments before the burning chunks of wood and furniture fell, hissing into the foam where they had just been.

There were two guards stationed inside the vault area and with all the destruction above ground and the alarms sounding loudly, both of them were on alert when Eran and Sandie came tumbling out of the lift. A huge wave of foam and smoke sprayed out of the crude hole Eran had cut, following the tumbling pair as the flaming pieces of the bank came crashing down behind them.

The extracurricular activity did not phase the guards as they kept their weapons trained on the two figures. "Freeze! Don't move!"

Eran ignored them, realizing the group had much bigger problems than the two weapons trained on him and Sandie. He got up and quickly walked back to their crude entry point.

Sandie was unrecognizable, covered with soot and foam, but her voice rang out clearly in the small room. "Hold your fire, men. We are not responsible for the destruction. I am President Hollins, and this is my bodyguard."

Both guards recognized her voice and lowered their weapons, turning their attention to Eran. The young bodyguard was trying to look up the shaft they had just descended. A jumbled mess of I-beams, premacrete bricks, and plaster made up the base of the growing pile, and flaming pieces of wood, carpeting, and furniture kept raining down through and around the much larger pieces.

The foam that lay thick on the floor immediately outside the lift had put out the fires at the base of the shaft, but Eran could see, feel, and hear the combustion taking place above their position. He could also feel a stiff breeze flowing past him and up the shaft. "We're loosing air!" he said suddenly.

"What? How?"

"This portal is acting like an air vent into a furnace. If we don't close it now, the fires will suck out all our oxygen and flood us with smoke." Eran spun about looking for something in the room to cover the meter-wide hole he had cut in the closed turbo lift doors. His eyes went up and he looked at the thick ceiling pieces of insulation that kept the vault area at a regulated temperature.

Eran made a few quick swipes with his lightsaber and brought down a small section of the aluminum grid work in which the insulation pieces were installed. The guards recognized the urgency in Eran's activity and went over to help him. They hoisted two of the rectangular pieces in front of the door, hoping the suction of the fires above would be enough to hold them in place. They held for the moment, but Eran took a few long pieces of aluminum supports and used his weapon to weld them into the floor as angled supports, ensuring the insulation would not fall down on them if the air suction of the fire subsided. Besides, if the fires were extinguished from above, smoke might fill the turbo shaft, and they needed protection from that as well.

The three men looked away from their work securing the door to see Sandie busy at the vault door. The huge, circular door was closed at the moment, but Sandie was going through several security procedures to get inside. Eran walked up beside her. "What are you doing?"

"This bank has built up a lot of wealth over the past year and stock holders insisted that we protect against everything so their accounts would remain intact. We do have a security measure in case of a catastrophic loss like this. All I can hope is that I am not too late."

Eran did not ask any further questions as he saw all of Sandie's energies were devoted to the task of opening the door. The huge vault finally opened and Sandie and Eran quickly stepped inside. Eran tried to ignore the amazing display of wealth all around him from incredible gems and diamonds to stacks of gold and latinum. Through the entry portion of the vault came the storage cells for billions of hard currency vouchers. Unestablished credit vouchers were secured in sliding trays inside huge cabinets that were stacked a dozen to a section, with well over two dozen sections.

"None of them are worth anything until activated," Sandie said as they walked quickly toward the back of the vault, "but if you take even one of them, I will personally see you fed to a rancor."

"Hadn't even crossed my mind," Eran lied back.

The third section of the vault contained thousands of personal security deposit boxes. They all had a number and a slot for an ID card. Sandie made her way to box 756 and inserted her Presidential ID. The box slid open and Sandie pulled out two more ID keys. She looked at them briefly and tossed one to Eran. "Use it on box 2037," she said, "and bring me the contents."

Eran did as he was told and soon had yet another ID key. He walked over to Sandie who had used her key to retrieve a coded power cell from a different deposit box. She took the key from Eran and inserted the power cell into the back of the original box she had opened. There were two power couplings in the back of the special deposit box that received the ports on the coded power cell and opened a slot in a bare section of the vault's interior.

Sandie, nearly finished with the complicated procedures of opening the vault's hidden compartment, walked over to the revealed slot in the wall and inserted Eran's key. A doorway slid open, and Sandie walked through. Eran was quick to follow, and the bodyguard found himself in a small office cubicle. Sandie was already seated in front of a computer monitor, pounding away on the keyboard.

The president felt at home, calling up information from the console and her mind was freed up enough to tell Eran what was going on. "We like to tell everyone who visits our bank to deposit their savings that our vault is completely separated from the rest of the bank and the planet. There are no power lines coming into the vault and no communication cables going either way. That is not entirely true. Though no one has access to the vault or its stand-alone controls, this console I'm at now is linked directly to our main computers above.

"This computer constantly monitors the accounts and holdings of our bank so that if, for any reason, we loose power or have a massive computer crash, we can always retrieve our records from the moment before the catastrophe."

"Does this mean we still have all of the records against Snotzenexer?" Eran asked.

"No," Sandie replied. "Those are lost forever. What I can do is liquidate the bank's accounts before Snotzenexer cleans them out."

"I'm afraid you are going to have to explain it better than that in order for me to understand," Eran admitted.

"Thousands of years ago and in most primitive cultures today the monetary system is based on physical currency. In these systems, a person's wealth is directly proportional to how much physical currency they have. The types of currency range from cattle, land, or even food. Every civilization starts with the bartering system and moves to a more standardized currency system involving coins or printed-paper. The next step in monitory evolution is credit. People deposit their physical currency into a bank and the bank records the deposit electronically, giving that customer a line of credit equal to the amount of the deposit. The physical currency is placed in a vault.

"As the currency system progresses, inflation, interest rates, and stock investments enter the system, allowing a credit line to increase in value. The hard currency does not grow, however. In fact, as inflation progresses, the deposited hard currency decreases in value as the electronic credit line increases. Of course, during a crash, the electronic credit line may plummet while hard currency skyrockets. This instability happens with every evolving system until safeties are in place to protect against it. Until the public is confident that the credit system can work effectively, the society will never get rid of their hard currency.

"People need something they can touch and feel. They are not comfortable with a number on a screen telling them how much money they have. There are many recorded instances of entire civilizations crumbling because of this problem. Because credit usually increases into something far in excess of the hard currency used to establish it, it is never possible to return it into bills and coins without loosing a large majority of it. If everyone went to a bank to remove all their money, the bank would not be able to comply. It just wouldn't have enough hard currency.

"We have done away with hard currency for the most part. Precious stones and metals can still be used, but people wanted a more practical way to carry around their wealth without entrusting it to a bank."

"Enter the credit vouchers back there," Eran said, realizing were this was going.

"Right," Sandie said. "Once credit is liquidated into a credit voucher, it is no longer earning interest or subject to any type of change. Right now Snotzenexer has all the codes and accessing privileges to do anything he wants with this bank's accounts. I imagine he was going to wait until this bank's systems were dead so he could move everything to the Coruscant Galactic Bank. If I dump all the credit into the vouchers in those cabinets back there, he won't be able to touch it."

Sandie worked furiously, trying to gather as many accounts as she could into the liquidation file. This was going to be the largest withdrawal in galactic history, and Sandie needed to be sure she did not leave anything for Snotzenexer to clean up later.

"But like you said before," Eran brought up, "there aren't going to be enough credit vouchers for you to do that, right? Didn't you say you can't get hard currency together to equal the credit line?"

"Those vouchers aren't hard currency like you're thinking of. None of them have a value yet. They can be programmed to hold a million credits each, but can also hold as little as a quarter credit. True hard currency has a pre-established value that can't change, like the gold back there."

Eran nodded, trying to figure out how much the cabinets of vouchers could hold. There were 250 vouchers in a tray, 15 trays per cabinet, 12 cabinets in a section, and there were 30 total sections. At a million credits per voucher, Sandie could withdrawal 1,350,000,000,000 credits. 1.35 trillion credits seemed like a lot, but Eran remembered reading that Snotzenexer was worth several trillion. "Are you sure you're going to have enough room to take it all out?"

"There are two more branches of the Varion Imperial Bank in this system and they both have similar voucher caches to this one. I should be able to withdrawal into those caches and lock down the vaults to prevent theft. Besides, like I said before, Snotzenexer has already removed the majority of the VIB's holdings from this bank. The Trade Federation made up over three fourths of Snotzenexer's financial empire, and I can't touch it."

Sandie had just finished compiling all of the personal accounts and was in the process of liquidating them while she looked through the corporate accounts. There were a few small businesses with several million credits each, but Snotzenexer had already taken the majority of the major corporations. Sandie nearly fell out of her chair when she saw that the Varion Construction Yard account was still open. Snotzenexer was part owner of the establishment and Sandie felt that it would have been the first corporation for Snotzenexer to take control of.

Sandie scrambled to liquidate the 450 billion credits in the account before she lost the privileges and looked at the complexity of the account. Sandie immediately saw how clever her friend, President Loyran, had been. There had been some major changes to the account recently, tying it to several smaller local businesses and even a few media corporations. If Snotzenexer had tried to move that account to Coruscant, he would have had to take everything else with it, thus notifying several media companies of his actions.

Sandie finally sat back from the computer, having finished taking as much as she could. She did not want to think about the consequences of her actions. Many of the bank's customers were making big money in the stock market and other economic ventures, and as long as their money remained frozen in credit vouchers, they were loosing hundreds of credits an hour.

As an after though, Sandie reached to the back of the computer and yanked out all of the communication cords, severing the console from the outside. Now all the money was safely stored in vouchers, untouchable until she unlocked the vaults they were stored in. The other two branches in the system located on the planets Vario and Knilerhn would have been locked down as soon as the first explosion ripped through the bank on Iom, shutting down communication. Before Sandie had shut down the system, she had made sure each of the branches' vaults were locked down so as not to open unless she personally unlocked them.

Sandie got up and walked out of the small hidden office. She went over to the credit voucher cabinets and noticed that they were humming with life, sorting a trillion credits into several million accounts. She turned to Eran. He was looking at the cabinets with awe. They seemed alive to him, and he tentatively reached out a hand to touch them as if they were some kind of forbidden fruit. Sandie tried to ignore is fascination. "Now, how do we get out?"

"We wait for a rescue team and hope we don't run out of air in the meantime."

Chapter 12 "New Definition of Safe"

Sanson sat alone at the breakfast table. She waited for almost half an hour without any sign of her husband. She had finished feeding her son and turned him over to the nurse that lived with them before going out to search for her husband. She carried a plate of toast and eggs while wandering around the huge presidential suite. Snotzenexer was sitting in his office staring unbelievably at the screen.

What Sanson saw scared her worse than she had ever been scared before. Snotzenexer was screaming curses at the screen. She could see datacards lying all over the room where her husband had apparently thrown them. His body was boiling over with anger and he could not stay still long enough to even type.

"Dear?" Sanson dared to intrude.

Snotzenexer spun around on his chair, tossing his wife a hideous look. The president and former admiral had always been in such great control over his emotions that this sudden outburst was almost too much for Sanson. That something was wrong was an understatement. From the way Snotzenexer was acting, Sanson wondered if they should run right away to their private shuttle and head to the primitive world they had decided on a few months ago if anything went wrong.

Sanson set the breakfast plate on a small table near the entrance to the office and wisely retreated. The scrimmage was today and she hoped that whatever was wrong with her husband would get better by then. Too much was riding on her performance today to allow her to worry about something else.

Snotzenexer turned back to his screen and continued to futilely scroll down his bank's accounts. They were all gone. Every single credit had been removed and the Varion Imperial Bank had been financially dissolved. At first Snotzenexer had thought his demolition team had been too thorough and had taken out everything, including the vault storage computers, but after checking with the branch on Vario, he realized that everything was truly gone.

Snotzenexer had received a report before he had gone to bed last night that Sandie Hollins had been in her top floor office just a minute before the bank had been destroyed and there was no physical way she could have left the building, yet there was no one else who could have emptied the accounts.

As stupid as all of Snotzenexer's henchmen were, they would never lie to him, and they did not get facts wrong often. That meant that Sandie was indeed in her office moments before the blast. There was no way she could have removed the accounts before the explosion. Snotzenexer had checked them before he went to bed and everything was in place. Now everything was gone.

If she had managed to escape the building before the blast, she would not have had access to a computer that could have done what she did. No, she had done it from in the building from the only place that would not have been affected by the demolition: the vault. How she had gotten down there between the time she had been spotted in her office and the time the bombs had gone off was unimportant, the fact remained that she was alive and obviously suspected foul play or she would have never done what she did.

It was almost night on Iom now, and would be for the next eight hours. Snotzenexer reached over to his com station and called up his team leader on Iom. "Yes, sir," a voice came through a few moments later.

"President Hollins is still alive, Commander Tialents."

"Impossible sir, I saw her myse-" Tialents suddenly realized he was disagreeing with Snotzenexer and wisely ceased speaking.

"She is in the vault below the bank. She needs to be dead before morning. I assume rescue teams are working around the clock to excavate the rubble."

"Yes, sir."

"You will make sure that your team is responsible for the night shift duty of excavating the turbo shaft down to the vault. I want everyone you find to be killed without question or theatrics."

Tialents had been awake for a very long time organizing the exterminator demolition service, and was not looking forward to staying up all night, excavating a very deep turbo shaft. "Yes, sir. Everyone will be dead by morning."

"Snotzenexer out." Snotzenexer leaned back in his chair, somewhat calmed. This was just a temporary setback. Soon Sandie would be dead and Snotzenexer would be able to have all the vaults re-opened and the credits put back into the system. He got up and retrieved the breakfast plate his wife had left for him and ate slowly.

* * *

Eran felt the breath of fresh air over his face and instantly knew something was wrong. He had decided several hours ago that it would be best if the four of them (the two guards, Sandie, and himself) moved into the vault to sleep. Sandie had managed to program the vault door to stay open so when the rescue team came down the turbo lift shaft they would be able to hear them.

That was the problem. Moving all of the rubble that clogged the shaft should have made a tremendous noise if it had been done quickly, instead Eran's alert senses had heard nothing and he had stayed at the edge of sleep for the past six hours. He felt a breeze on his face and knew that someone had removed the insulation from the hole in the turbo shaft.

The fact that it was fresh air and not smoke meant that the shaft had been cleared during the night and the rescue team was here. The fact that they were not calling out Sandie's name, or making any sound at all, meant they probably had things other than rescuing on their mind.

Eran slowly got up, thankful the rest of his group had remained asleep thus far. The young bodyguard removed both lightsabers from his inner jacket pockets and slowly crept to the edge of the vault. He could hear very muffled sounds of conversation and the soft squish of careful footfalls in the remaining foam. They were not using any lights, which clinched it for Eran that these men were not here on a rescue mission.

The idea that Snotzenexer might send a party down to finish his dirty work seemed remote to Eran, but he also realized that Sandie's actions after the blast had most definitely not gone unnoticed. Eran thought about going back to the security guards and taking a blaster for himself, but he knew he would not be able to get one without waking a guard, and that would make noise.

The lights were turned way down so the foursome could sleep, and since the "rescue crew" were not using lights meant they probably had night vision goggles. Eran searched out the light controls with his hand and poised next to the vault opening.

"We're not here to take prisoners or ask questions," Eran heard one of them saying very quietly. "Anyone we find is to be instantly stunned and then asphyxiated. Snotzenexer will want everything to look natural."

Eran took a deep sigh, knowing now that a fight was definitely going to happen. Mentally he calmed his body, letting every muscle quiver on the edge of action. Eran heard the men approach the short flight of stairs up to the vault, waited two seconds, and then flipped on the lights.

Eran was slightly shocked by the bright lights, but the four Imperials were severely blinded as the light was magnified by their night vision goggles. Eran spun out of the vault, both lightsabers activated. He sliced through two blasters as they were thrust forward and fired blindly. Eran planted a boot in the chest of one of the men, sending him stumbling backwards down the stairs into the man behind him. The other man turned toward the sound, attacking the air above his falling comrade only to receive a lightsaber handle to the face.

The fourth and final man still could not see, but the sound of lightsabers was very recognizable, and he fired in that direction. The bolt seared over Eran's left shoulder, and he quickly leaped down the stairs to land next to poor marksman. The Imperial swung towards the noise and lost the hand holding his blaster. He screamed in pain and fell backwards.

The two men who had fallen together down the stairs had removed their goggles and were bringing their weapons to bear on Eran. The bodyguard did not have an angle for attack and had to dive to the side as the blaster bolts flew past him into the wall. Eran leaped back to his previous position to initiate an attack, but five shots in quick succession snapped his eyes back to the vault.

The two guards had awakened and had disposed of the four Imperials before any of them could do any real damage. The guards looked careful at Eran, wondering what kind character would try to take on four armed men in the dark by himself. Eran ignored the look. "Thanks guys, it's about time you woke up."

By now Sandie had gotten up and walked out of the vault, looking curiously at the four men lying motionless on the floor. "Nice work, Eran," she said humorously. "Now, let's get out of here before Snotzenexer tries again."

Eran noticed a strange edge to her voice. This woman had just been betrayed by her hero, and she was none too happy about it. Sandie locked the vault, making sure no one was going to have access to the credits without her authorization. Eran walked over to the lift shaft and saw there was a small platform with a tractor lock for a beam above on the surface to lift them up.

"Hey, uh, guard," Eran realized he knew neither of the men's names, "get one of their com units." The guard did as he was asked and brought a unit to Eran.

"-thing going down there?"

Eran caught the end of a question as he placed the helmet unit against his ear. "Just fine," Eran replied, guessing what the question was. "The situation has been taken care of. Give us 30 seconds and raise us up." Eran quickly motioned for the two guards to join him in the turbo shaft.

The three men climbed onto the small platform and readied themselves for action. Eran had both of his lightsabers out but deactivated. Eran was not sure if the men above ground would be friendlies or not. The Imperials were going to report that anyone they had found had been asphyxiated by smoke, so it was not necessary to have the whole rescue crew under Snotzenexer's employ. The problem was going to be if only some of the men on the surface were Imperial. Eran had no way to discern between the two, other than if they were shooting at him, and by then it would be too late.

The platform started to rise quickly a few moments later, and Eran readied himself again. There were plenty of lights up on the surface, and Eran could see that lights were being shone down on them from above. "Don't look up," Eran advised them. "If they see we aren't the men that were sent down, things might get ugly."

When they were still half a meter from seeing over the top edge of the shaft, Eran leaped out of the hole. He landed on a sharp pile of permacrete and rolled off onto a softer pile of burnt wood. A spotlight followed his every move and people were crowding around him with very curious looks.

"What's wrong?"

"Hey! Who are you?"

Eran was looking into the faces of genuinely concerned rescue workers. Eran quickly hid his lightsabers back in his jacket and took an offered hand to help him up. Eran looked up into the man's face and saw Commander Tialents, the bridge commander from the Super Star Destroyer. Eran's face was too covered with dirt and soot to be recognized, not that he gave the Imperial a chance. Eran tightened his handhold, turned in a crouch and flipped the man over his shoulder into the heap of burnt wood.

"What on Iom are you doing to him?"

Eran ignored the voices of the men behind him as he jumped onto Commander Tialents. Eran had him pinned quickly and pulled a blaster from the inner regions of the commander's coat. One of the men saw that Eran had taken the blaster from the man he had tackled, and that it was not his.

Eran had the muzzle of the blaster nestled snugly under the man's chin pointed up into his brain. By now the two bank guards were off the platform and standing above Eran with their weapons trained on the pinned commander. To Tialents, the two men looked enormous, backlit by the huge spotlights that were covering the action.

"How many more are there?" Eran asked sharply.

The commander made no move to respond. Eran shoved the gun's tip further into the soft skin at the top of the throat. "We just killed your four friends. I have no qualms about splattering your brains about this rubble you've created. Now tell me if there is anyone else!"

The commander remained silent. Eran thumbed the setting on the blaster to maximum so Tialents could hear the increased humming of the small power plant inside the weapon. "I'm not going to ask you aga-"

Eran suddenly rolled off of the commander as a shot from behind him that had been aimed at his back tore into Tialents. Eran rolled onto his back and sat up, firing his weapon before he even saw what he was shooting at. The two guards had lightening quick reflexes also and all three shots hit the remaining Imperial at once, lifting his body into the air, throwing him several meters back, and dropping him down the turbo shaft.

Eran let out all the pent up adrenaline with a long sigh. He had no idea why he had rolled off the commander at exactly the right time, but he had, and now it was over. Any blame the other rescuers might have wanted to lay on Eran disappeared when they saw that the two men accompanying him were bank guards.

"President Hollins is still down there," one of the guards took control.

Eran tried to get up, but his arms were suddenly weak. He had not come that close to dying, ever. He had not avoided the shot through skill, but pure alertness. He had somehow felt the blast coming at his back before it had even been fired. The realization of all this sent his mind reeling, and he passed out.

* * *

Luke and Han walked into the smoky atmosphere of the seedy establishment. Luke had followed Han to countless drinking and gaming establishments over the past few weeks and everyone seemed exactly the same. They were all filled with foul odors, smoke, and noise, but once you looked at the patrons you saw that everyone was clean, not smoking, and not yelling.

The gaming tables were filled with quiet, thinking beings playing out their hands with different levels of confidence and skill. There was quiet whispering taking place at the bar as secrets were passed about, and those at the other tables were too busy eating to add to the ambiance. Luke had finally decided that the owners of these bars must pump in the noise, smoke, and smell to remind everyone of the old days when these conditions really existed.

Right now Luke looked around at the patronage and saw dozens of alien versions of Han and Lando. They were smart, rich, and confident that they could never be beaten at their given game of expertise. Luke was wearing the disguise of Delan Fowlry, as he always did, and was finally used to the looks he got. He moved to the bar and sat down amongst a few other Trade Federation Reps.

While Luke took the pulse of the Trade Federation, Han had a much more specific reason for being here. Han saw Derran Speedsting sitting by himself in a booth in the far corner. He stopped by the bar briefly to pick up a couple drinks and carried them to the booth. Derran took the drink without speaking and had half of it drained before Han sat down opposite him.

"Okay, Solo, I'm ready to talk."

"What happened?" Han asked, pretending to not already know.

"I've been put on suspension for a week and then on probation once I start again with reduced pay. I was hit by piratesin the Needle Hole, and lost 24 million worth in cargo. I was fined for not taking the standard shipping route, for having illegal weapons on board, and then for taking my ship to an unauthorized repair facility afterwards. The first two I can understand, but the third is ridiculous. I will take my ship to whomever I please."

Han nodded slowly. Both Lando and Thomas had told Han what was going on and Han had prepared well for this conversation. "Why don't you just quite?"

"And do what?" Derran came back. "There is no life for an independent trader anymore. I suppose I could retire, but I'd much rather be part of your rebellion."

Han's eye's lit up and he cast looks around frantically as if he expected Snotzenexer to be standing next to the table listening. "What did you say?"

"Come off it Han. I know you and your wife have got something planned. I've read the reports Leia gave out months ago saying that Snotzenexer and Sanson were Imperial and wanted to return the galaxy to the Palpatine era. I know you would have never joined this Trade Federation if you weren't planning something. You have more money than you let on; I know it. You could have just taken your family to Corellia and lived out the rest of your lives in comfort. So what's going on?"

This was not what Han had expected at all. He was not sure if this change of events was bad, all he knew was it was definitely different. "Nothing," Han responded honestly. Derran gave him a very untrusting look. "Yet," Han continued for him. "What I want to do is gather together as many pilots as I can and form a union. We don't need to take any action right now, but we need to develop a communication net so that we can organize at a moments notice if something should happen."

"Like what?" Derran asked.

"Have you noticed what Snotzenexer is doing with the galactic commerce?"

Derran shook his head, but he was definitely going to look into it as soon as his suspension was ended.

"He has managed to compile every imaginable function into one enormous device. He has control of the galaxy's food supply, the drug supply, he controls all of the trade going on, he controls almost all the money, and he controls the military. He can cripple any world he wants by putting it under trade sanctions and attacking its financial structure. Think about it. The emperor never had that kind of power. There were always smugglers that could get anything in or out of a planet, and Palpatine never had any control over a planet's financial holdings. Now smuggling has been eliminated and the Galaxy's credit flow goes through one man."

Derran nodded, realizing he already knew everything Han was telling him, he just had not put it in perspective before. "So you want to restrict his control by creating a potential resistance if he ever tries anything."

"Exactly," Han agreed. "What I need is about a hundred names of pilots who will be willing to make a move when the time comes. I have got several dozen people so far, but no solid commitments yet. No one can take me seriously because of my former connections. I need you.

"Of course we don't tell them about Snotzenexer. As far as they are concerned, we are forming a union to fight the poor working conditions and outragous regulations put on us."

Derran nodded. He could think of at least 30 names off the top of his head he could convince. "Let me make some calls, and I'll get back to you." Derran drained the rest of his drink. "What about our TFR's? Mine's a real idiot."

Han looked over to Delan Fowlry. She presently had someone's arm wrenched behind his back and was saying, in no uncertain terms, that if he did not remove his other hand from her thigh, she would rip his arm out of its socket. "We'll have to work around them. I hope when the time comes, they will not matter."

Derran was still looking at the action at the bar where Delan was just now releasing the man she had held in an arm lock. "Whatever you say."

* * *

The sun was just coming up in the eastern sky, spreading light across the total destruction. Ferris Loyran looked at the sight with increasing trepidation. Was his business next? The bank on Iom had been sacred, revered by every financial establishment six sectors in every direction. Now it lay ruined - a total loss.

Ferris had no illusions about who had done this. Though Snotzenexer seemed to have no possible motive for blowing up his own bank, in Ferris' mind, that lack of motive seemed like the driving force in everything Snotzenexer did. The VCY was in the same position. Snotzenexer had a lot of money tied up in the shipyards and would seem to loose a lot if it were destroyed, but Ferris could also see the benefits of destroying it from Snotzenexer's point of view.

Ferris held a lot of evidence against the Republic President, not to mention almost a dozen Star Destroyers - eight, if he was not mistaken. Also, the VCY was one of the largest construction facilities in the galaxy, and unless Snotzenexer could build a bigger shipyard somewhere else, he was stuck with having the main facility three days away by hyperspace.

The real reason Ferris had come out here in the early morning was because his company's assets had been frozen over night, and he wanted an explanation. He knew that Sandie Hollins was the only one who could have closed his account without his approval, and even though she was the president, Ferris thought she would have at least had to notify him.

After a bit of snooping around, Ferris found that Sandie and her bodyguard had been taken to a nearby hospital as a precautionary measure. They had small scrapes and bruises and had suffered from minor oxygen deprivation, but they were expected to be released by midday.

The hospital was busy with victims of the explosion, and Ferris had a bit of difficulty finding Sandie's room. Though nearly everyone who had been in the bank was dead and there was nothing any hospitol anywhere could do for them, there had been dozens of people just outside the building who had suffered non-lethal injuries. Visitors to the president were being restricted, but Sandie was awake and insisted on seeing the President of the VCY.

Ferris walked into the room and closed the door to all the commotion out in the hallway. There were two beds in the room, and Ferris did not recognize the young man in the other bed. Sandie saw the pause at the unfamiliar face and reassured him. "It's okay, Ferris. He knows more than we do. He saved my life at least three times already, and I'd entrust mine or anyone else's to him for the rest of this ordeal."

Ferris nodded and took a seat next to Sandie's bed. The female president was sitting up, looking very well with an IV hypo in her arm and a couple respiratory sensors emerging from between buttons in the front of her gown. "What happened?"

"Do you mean 'What really happened?' or 'What I've been telling the reporters happened?'" Sandie paused, making doubly sure no media personel were near the door. "Snotzenexer blew up the bank, trying to erase all record of his take over and subsequent dealings dating back over seven months ago. We suspect that he is planning a merger with the CGB, and this demolition not only covered up incriminating evidence, but also made such a merger much more of a necessity."

"What happened to my money?"

Sandie smiled despite Ferris' stern look. "It's safe."

"This must be some strange usage of the word 'safe' I wasn't aware of, because when I last checked, my account in your bank totaled to 0.00 credits, when yesterday at this time it was over 450 billion."

"I was forced to liquidate it before Snotzenexer could grab it. I couldn't just transfer it to another bank or even freeze it. I needed to take it out of the public domain entirely. Anything short of that and Snotzenexer would have had the authority to do with it as he liked."

"And what would he have done with it?" Ferris asked.

"He would have placed your account in the CGB just like he did with the Trade Federation, and his new health organization. The Trade Federation had made up over three fourths of the VIB's holdings. With the rest of the big corporations he yanked before he pushed the big red button to blow me up, I was only left with less than a tenth of the bank's previous holdings."

"How could he do this? I thought we had agreed he wasn't a banker before. He shouldn't have the know how."

"He's been an Imperial officer his entire life," Eran put in just to show he was listening and he knew what they were talking about.

Both presidents ignored the comment. "He is getting help from people at the CGB. We figure he promised to move the main offices of the VIB to Coruscant after the merger to make the boys on Coruscant to agree to the deal."

"So he is going to merge 90% of the VIB's wealth and its name with the CGB. Sounds like he pulled it off. Even if you hadn't done what you did and Snotzenexer had gotten everything moved, it's not like people would have had to make a trip to Coruscant every time they wanted to make a transaction. The other VIB branches in the Varion system would have still been functioning."

"Yes," Sandie agreed, "but you forget that Snotzenexer doesn't plan to let everything go on as normal. There is one thing that you, and every other citizen in this galaxy, who has a bank account, are forgetting. Once you deposit money in a bank, that money is no longer yours. It is the bank's to do with at it pleases. If the bank is not careful with it, people will find out and will no longer deposit in that bank. So it behooves us bank presidents to invest our customer's money wisely so we can offer them hefty interest rates. You give a bank money and they will turn around and give it to someone else as a 30 year mortgage at 10%. They then offer you 4% on your money and they turn a nice 6% profit. Banks are not holding your money for you until you want it back. We are spending it as soon as we get it, trying to make as much money with it until you ask for it back.

"Right now, the CGB has over a thousand branches spreading all over Republic space. They have been through so many mergers and have swallowed so many smaller banks that they have surpassed any potential competitor by so much it isn't even worth comparing. This means that Snotzenexer will have access to all the money in every account of every citizen of the Republic. If he were a responsible bank president, he would invest these thousands of trillions of credits wisely so the galaxy would be making money along with him.

"However, if he were a ruthless Imperial dictator, he would spend all the money on Star Destroyers and Imperial super structures. Profits would go down and people would withdrawal their money. The problem is that their money is gone. It's been turned into Imperial hardware that Snotzenexer has no intention of returning to the public. Now everyone all over the galaxy is broke. But that's okay, right? Since everyone is broke, prices can drop on everything and no one will notice, right? Instead of everyone being rich and food costing 10 credits a kilogram, now everyone is poor and it costs 1 credit a kilogram.

"Wrong. Not everyone is poor. The government is rich. They spent all the money on state of the art equipment, and they are not starving. Snotzenexer controls the food and the medicine and supplies of all kind through the Trade Federation, which is also rich. Normally the traders would have to drop their prices so the general public could buy their product and they could make money. Not the case here. You see the Trade Federation already has all the people's money. They have no real reason to drop prices.

"The result of this is that people still need to eat. They still need to build things. This means that they still need to buy things from the Trade Federation, and ultimately, Snotzenexer. Since they don't have money, they'll need to mortgage their military, or their cities, or their entire planets, in hope that Snotzenexer will extend them enough credits so they can feed their people. Soon, Snotzenexer will literally own the entire galaxy."

"The senate will never go along with this," Ferris argued.

"Who says they have to? The Republic does not own the CGB or the VIB. They do not own, or have any influence over the Trade Federation. The senate might control the military, but they don't own any shipyards. Before Snotzenexer took over, the government had no money. That was the reason Snotzenexer was elected in the first place. The problem is he didn't rectify the situation. All he's done is build up an enormous monetary cache with the VIB and has used that to start all his operations. If Snotzenexer was voted out of office, he would take the VIB and now the CGB with him, and the Republic would be broke again. Meanwhile, Snotzenexer would still have control of the Trade Federation and would own enough shipyards to build his own military. Don't forget his wife is the Republic's Admiral. He might no longer be president, but he would rule the galaxy as if he still were."

"Then the people won't go along with it," Ferris tried to argue. "I mean he's only one person. He might be able to order military raids, but it takes several thousand people to carry it out."

Sandie had had a lot of time to think about this. "You are forgetting one thing. Snotzenexer has all the money. If you are not with Snotzenexer you will have no money. Everyone in the Trade Federation will have a lot of money. If they don't like what Snotzenexer is doing, they can quite, but they will go hungry. People on the outside will be lining up in droves to join the military because people in the military are living in the lap of luxury. Snotzenexer won't have a problem with people not wanting to be in his ruthless military, he'll have a problem with too many people trying to join.

"Money blinds a lot of people. Remember that most of the Trade Federation traders are former smugglers. People on the inside might hear about famine and plagues going on elsewhere, but since they don't see it for themselves they tend to not believe it. It's hard for a professional sprinter to really sympathize with a cripple because he not only has no idea what that's like, but he can't even comprehend not having the ability to walk."

Sandie's last comment reminded Ferris about Jon. He had a connection, however faint it was, with the new rebellion that was going to have to put a stop to this change. "So what did withdrawing my money do to stop this?"

"Your money didn't do a darn thing. However, saving Joe Blow's account of 65,000 credits did a lot. Now Joe will still have all his money when Snotzenexer starts cashing the rest of the galaxy's credits, and he will be one of the rich ones, along with everyone else in this system whose account I saved."

"Can we do anything else to stop him?"

"Like I said before, removing him from office isn't enough. We need to severe all of his ties with the numerous corporations he has running the galaxy."

"You mean we need to kill him."

Sandie said nothing, but Eran was nodding slowly. In order to get to Snotzenexer you had to get though his wife. "How many Star Destroyers do you still have?"

"Eight," Ferris said, "but Snotzenexer is going to swing by and pick them up any time now, especially since he can no longer control my business financially."

"Do you have enough people to fly them?"

Ferris shook his head.

"Can you hire them?"

"I don't have any money, remember. All my money is sitting in 450,000 credit vouchers in your bank's vault."

"I'll give you a loan," Sandie managed a laugh.

"Sure I can get the people, and they can be trained in a matter of days, but I don't know jack about warfare. Snotzenexer could send two ships against my eight and emerge victorious beca-"

Ferris stopped speaking suddenly as the door to the hospital room opened. A nurse walked in and set a datapad on the table next to Sandie's bed. "Here are the morning news reports you asked for," the nurse said quickly before leaving.

Ferris started to continue his complaint, but Sandie held up her hand to stop him as she read down the list of headlines. Towards the end of the reports, she found something that set an alarm off on her respiratory monitors. The nurse came rushing back in, but Sandie dismissed her quickly. "I think I know where we can find your military leadership."

Chapter 13 "Pregame"

Snotzenexer was looking at the same report. The headline said: "Investigation of the Porylen Entertainment Network Disaster still Open." Snotzenexer controlled his anger as he read the report.

"Seven months ago the PEN main office building was hit by, what was then believed to be, a terrorist attack against its pro-government propaganda. The brewing civil war on Porylen has since been put down, but leaders of the rebel factions still deny responsibility for the incident. Recent reports from an investigative team may lend weight to that claim.

"Analysis of the building's remains immediately after the explosion showed enormous amounts of an unknown chemical compound believed to have been the main cause of the explosion. This chemical was found nowhere in the rebel's seized explosive storerooms and has baffled scientific analysts until recently. A scientific investigator who wishes to remain nameless has positively identified the chemical as carbonized gonst.

"Gonst is a very rare gaseous substance that becomes highly explosive when it undergoes rapid temperature fluctuations. Otherwise the gas is very inert, which explains why it has gone unidentified for so long. The only recorded existence of gonst is deep within the Danzig system. Officials do not believe that the local rebels had the resources necessary to collect the large amount of gonst required to cause the devastation that afflicted the PEN office building.

"In an effort to prove the findings, a scientific research team tracked down several of the asteroids that had flown through the Denorid system during the disaster that struck the system, similarly, seven months ago. It was hypothesized, but never proven, that the sudden acceleration of the asteroids from the Danzig system into the Denorid system was due to explosive gonst trapped inside the asteroids, as the rare gas is common to the Danzig system.

"Upon locating the asteroids, the research team discovered no gonst residue present on the asteroids at all. They found numerous incidents of carbon scoring from the last second rescue efforts of the Republic fleet, and they also found residue of a fusion reaction on several of the asteroids comparable with what a thermal detonator might leave behind.

"Forgetting about the gonst, in light of this new discovery, the team is now looking into what might have caused these asteroids to accelerate, causing the deaths of several billion Denorians. After looking at the mineral composition of the asteroids, the team no longer believes they originated in the Danzig system.

"Officials are still puzzled as to who might have been responsible for the PEN office building attack or where the responsible party might have acquired gonst in such a large quantity. The only reports of any activity in the Danzig system over the past ten years has been Imperial, but they were defeated nine months ago and no Imperial activity has been noted in the Varion system since."

Snotzenexer was not in the habit of loosing his temper, but today seemed like a good day for it. Leia, Wedge, and whoever else might be running this news release obviously had their wits about them now. The last line so obviously implied Sanson that it was laughable not to have included her in the report. But by not directly stating Sanson's presence in the Varion system, the readers (and there must be trillions reading this report) had the chance to arrive at that inconsistency themselves. People always believed things they thought of themselves more strongly than those things spoon-fed them by the media. Now all across the galaxy people were playing detective and strolling back in their own personal news files to see exactly what Sanson's reported history was.

Once they started to speculate if Sanson had been responsible, they would also wonder if Snotzenexer's stock move against PEN was luck or planned. At the time, Snotzenexer had no trouble passing the move off as "a hunch." But back then, no one knew there were Imperials hiding in the asteroid field. No one knew that Snotzenexer was married to their admiral. And no one knew what gonst was or that it only came from the Danzig system.

The fact that his team of demolition experts had used gonst should not have been surprising to him. The gas needed absolutely no refining for use as an explosive and it had been in abundant supply in the Danzig system. The Empire had collected thousands of tons of the stuff and still had plenty of it in the-

The VIB explosion. Snotzenexer had given his men a cover of exterminators carrying in canister after canister of explosive bug repellent. Of course they used gonst. It made the most sense. The inert gas would not show up on the bank's security system, they already had lots of it handy, and anything else would have cost a lot more and required more advanced explosive techniques.

Snotzenexer was glad this report had not come out any earlier. Sanson was already on her ship, preparing for the scrimmage this afternoon. The mock battle was to take place on Coruscant prime time holovision. Snotzenexer could only hope that the predetermined outcome would paint his wife in a good light.

* * *

All across the galaxy many people were reading the report, but very few people had begun to seriously accuse Sanson of the attack. Though everyone saw the possibility, the report was coming from the Galactic Inquirer a noted tabloid that rarely published fact. The difference here was that the Inquirer had been silent ever since the destruction of PEN. Also, the subject matter was far more serious than the affair ridden reports that normally filled the datacards of the tabloid.

There was one person other than Snotzenexer and Sandie who was taking the report a little more seriously than others. Cayron Moall had authorized Borrel Curtis to submit this report without ever really looking at what he was publishing. This was not the lie he had asked for; this looked like solid fact. Cayron looked up from his desk to see Curtis standing there.

"This isn't fiction, is it?" he asked.

Curtis shook his head.

"This reports claims to also be responsible for the first one that was released. Is that true? Did you know who had released the first report about the prolan gas?"

Curtis nodded his head.

"Do you know more?"

"Yes," Curtis responded verbally. "The report states that the asteroids are not from the Danzig system due to their mineral composition. We know where they are from."

"Who is 'we?'"

Curtis just smiled at the producer. "The asteroids are from the Varion system."

That was a bombshell. "Are you telling me that someone brought those asteroids to the Denorid system and aimed them at the Denorians?"

"You said it, sir, not me."

Cayron was sweating now. "What else do you know?"

"Everything," Curtis responded.

"Can you publish it?"

"That's up to you," Curtis said. "You asked me to blame the PEN explosion on Snotzenexer. I did that. If you want me to say he is responsible for the Denorid catastrophe, I can do that. If you want me to say that he is responsible for the disaster on Xentin that started the economic chain reaction you in the 'Documentary' call the 'Snotzenexer Miracle,' I can do that. If you want me to say that Snotzenexer was an Imperial Commander a year ago and fought in the Danzig battle, I can do that. If you want me to say that Snotzenexer was the commanding officer that led the Imperial attack on Yavin IV, I can do that. If you want me to say that Snotzenexer was responsible for blowing up his own bank yesterday, though I don't have the evidence now, from the confusion the investigators are having with nailing down what kind of explosive that was used, I'm pretty sure it was gonst, and I can do that. However, if you want to continue your Documentary, I suggest we hold off on this information until you've finished praising your hero."

"To the maw with the Documentary."

Right then Curtis realized that Cayron's loyalty toward Snotzenexer went only as far as the rating system. If he had something that was going to get more people to watch his station, then he was going to air that instead.

"How soon can you have it ready?"

"Have what ready, sir?"

"Everything," Cayron said. "I want everything."

"In writing, I can everything in two days. If you want a holovision broadcast it will take a week to get holo footage of everything."

"Take whoever and whatever you need. My secretaries and staff are at your disposal. I'll extend you a credit line for this project that will not have a ceiling. I want this information compiled as quickly and as professionally as possible." Cayron was looking very ill. He did not own the Torenick Broadcasting Company, but he ran it. His company was about to break open the biggest story since the invention of story telling, and he was a little nervous that it was not going to be good news.

* * *

Han and Derran were sitting in a bar in front of a huge holo display. The scrimmage was going to take place in an hour and the Coruscant Holocasting Company had been playing up their live broadcast for the past week. They were treating it like it was the Galaxy Series of smashball. There were dozens of holo-probes floating all over the battle area with play-by-play announcers monitoring each one.

They had decided to let the fight take place inside Coruscant's system. The capitol of the Republic was the second planet from the sun, with five others in a more distant orbit. None of these were habitable, but all had very different characteristics. There was an iceball, a gas giant, a planet made almost entirely out of metal ore, a planet with three rings that moved independently of each other, and one of the planets had twelve moons.

The orbits of these planets were not parallel and differed by as much as 90 degrees in some cases. The opposing fleets would start on opposite sides of the system with the inner two planets, including Coruscant, off limits. All the ships were equipped with optical weapons that would simulate damage.

Han knew something bad was going to happen, but also knew there was nothing he could do about it. He and Derran had just compiled a list of over 120 pilots who had agreed to go along with them if something should happen where they needed to form a unionr. Han had in turn given the list to Luke, and the Jedi Master was forwarding it to Ghent so the computer wizard could program them into the Trade Federation computer. Ghent would need to be able to control the group as one and would need to add flags to each of their ID's in the system.

* * *

Eran, Sandie, Jon, and Ferris were in a VCY ship flying to Torenick, the home planet of the Torenick Broadcasting Company. This was who had submitted the report on the asteroids and the PEN explosion. To Jon it sounded like something Thomas would do, and he suggested they drop in for a visit to see if they could find some of his friends.

In the hold of the VCY freighter, was Jon's new ship. The M-wing had been built in three days and only flown once, but Jon was more than willing to pit it against any ship in existence. If he had to go to battle right now, he felt he might be able to summon enough strength to get out of his chair and run down to the hold under his own power. He had never been this anxious for a fight in his life.

Presently the four of them were also gathered around a holoviewer getting ready to watch the mock battle. This teasing of a fight mocked Jon's state of mind, but he realized that very shortly he was probably going to have to fight against Sanson and her minions again. He wanted to remind himself of how well Victer, Victor, and Victir, the Imperial clones who had challenged the 185th before they had escaped, flew in battle.

* * *

Leia, Thomas, and Curtis sat in front of a holoviewer also. They were in a production room at TBC, taking a break from compiling all of the evidence against Snotzenexer. It was 2:00am on Torenick, but the three had forgotten what sleep was, for the moment. Thomas feared the worst from this scrimmage. He could not imagine Sanson and Snotzenexer not taking advantage of this sanctioned war to reek as much havoc as they could before it was over. But like Han realized, there was absolutely nothing they could do about, so they just sat back and watched.

* * *

Vince, Bep, Wedge, and Perry were too busy training the Jedi to fly the modified TIE's to even know the broadcast was on, but Mara, Lando, and Ra'tok were watching inside one of the Academy's media rooms. Mara still held a lot of animosity towards Sanson for the humiliation the admiral had given her back when she had tried to rescue Luke from the Admiral's Super Star Destroyer.

Sanson had mocked her efforts by releasing Luke on her own, pretending all the time to be impressed by Mara's skills when the admiral had set up the entire escapade in the first place. Mara figured this scrimmage would end badly for the Republic, and it would accelerate the upcoming battle between their small resistance force and Sanson's rather large fleet. Right now Mara was only aware of the two dozen fighters they had found and a few personal ships owned by Han, Lando, and herself. It was not enough to win the upcoming fight, but Mara was certain she would get her revenge on Sanson one way or another.

* * *

Sanson paced on the bridge to her Super Star Destroyer, the Dark Fist, wishing her son were with her. She had left the baby with the nurse, but Sanson had now been away from him for over six hours and was realizing how attached she had become. The idea of a baby on the bridge of a war ship during battle was ludicrous, and Sanson tried to put it out of her mind.

Instead, she began to review the battle. She had three commanding officers to aid her in fighting this battle. The fight was taking place in the Coruscant system, which offered several strategic possibilities, and Sanson did not want to have the entire fight take place in one location. She knew that her and Snotzenexer's battle minds were superior to anyone the Republic had, and she did not want to waste that talent in a toe to toe brawl.

The Republic had five captains, while she had herself and three recently promoted captains. Sanson figured two of the Republic captains would come at her ship while the others would divide against her remaining commanders. There would probably be four separate fights going on at once, something that would give the holo broadcasters fits.

The three captains Sanson had were Captains Pearson, Paxtin, and Krychink. Pearson was an idiot, but very good at giving orders and very easy to control. He had been Snotzenexer's puppet for a long time in the Denorid system, and Sanson hoped she could pull the strings on him just as well during this battle.

Paxtin had been the commander who had met Harmeon when the bacta tycoon had attacked Custom Shields Galactica on Rembon. He had not been responsible for any real difficult strategic execution, but he had pulled off the maneuver without incident, and had a lot of command experience.

Krychink had been left in command of the Varion system after Sanson had pulled out. The Imperials had left a few operational ships in the system to protect against rebel espionage. There, Krychink had succeeded in shooting down one of the three fighters that had caused Sanson so many headaches in the past.

The three were not strategic masters; in fact, they all paled in comparison to what the Republic had to offer, mostly because they had never seen real battle before. Sanson did not worry about this, though. She already knew how this battle was going to end.

On the Republic side, Captains Collins, Allenkar, Gencron, Yun, and Dwenqr were preparing to meet the Imperial defectors in battle. Sanson had studied their profiles extensively.

The two weak links in the chain were Captains Yun and Dwenqr. Yun was simply an idiot. He came from a planet of mentally inferior humans, among which, he was the smartest. He had risen to the top of the local military, and when his planet had joined the Republic, he was promoted to captain.

Captain Dwenqr was a short-tempered, fat man that belonged in an Imperial uniform. Instead he hated the Imperials, and Sanson half expected him to shoot real ammunition for a few moments in the battle and later claim it was a mistake.

Sanson also had her eyes on Captain Collins. The man was made in Han Solo's image. From Corellia, the confident spokesman for the quintet of captains did not believe he was capable of failure and was always the first one to start arguing with Sanson when she started to discuss strategies.

Captain Allenkar and Captain Gencron were similar to Ackbar and Antilles respectively. They were both quiet and brilliant. Sanson would worry a little if they each chose to attack one of her other captains once the battle started, but she figured at least one of them would be drawn to her Super Star Destroyer.

* * *

"Thank-you, Jerybick," the holo announcer said, turning away from his associate to face the camera. "Now that you've met the main officers involved, let's show you the battle field." The holo-view suddenly zoomed out to an imaginary camera looking at the entire Coruscant system. The digitized version of the planets rotated in a dizzying display as the view cycled through each of the planets

The holo-view settled on the most distant planet in the system, rotating around the digitized planet in a realistic display. "Vonda, the smallest and most often forgotten planet has little worth from a resource or strategic standpoint. It is a frozen gaseous planet, whose surface has never been explored. Likely this planet will not play a large role in the upcoming fight."

The view switched to the next planet. "Kevjander is the largest planet in the system. It is an extremely hot gas giant whose gravity well has sucked in many stray asteroids and a comet or two in the past half millennia. This planet could be used effectively by a cunning captain, though navigation through its upper atmosphere is very dangerous."

The next planet. "Timzahn is by far the most spectacular of the seven planets in the Coruscant system. Its three rings of sparkling ice crystals and space dust move about the blue planet independently of each other. Its solar eclipse as seen from Coruscant once every 87 years is simply spectacular.

"Mickube is the fourth planet from the sun and was a huge disappointment when explored by the ancient Coruscant civilization. The large red planet has 12 moons in orbit and many ancient scientists had thought it capable of supporting life, but the rock doesn't contain even a trace of water and has been left untouched for the most part.

"Barbahamb is the closest planet to Coruscant, and has been used more than any other planet in the system. It is saturated with many different metal ores and is still covered with domed mining complexes trying to draw more resources out of the small planet. Many critics say that the planet had given up all it could back in the growth period of Coruscant when 60% of the construction on the city planet had taken place, but miners still continue to try to get more out of the stripped planet."

The holo-view skipped Coruscant and moved the final planet. "Acrispin is out of play during this fight. This is where all of the 'killed' ships are to go until the scrimmage is over. It is a small, volcano-covered planet that is far too hot to ever be explored, and has never made any real contributions to the rest of the system."

With the battlefield laid out, the holo-view went back to the two announcers. Jerybick, who had given the bios on the captains, took over now. "Thanks, Andres. Now it looks like we are only moments away from the start of this contest, and the ships around us are beginning to take their places."

* * *

Sanson had her Super Star Destroyer, 19 Star Destroyers, hundreds of fighters, and a motley collection of freighters and other ships she had captured from Imperial pirates over the past several months. The Republic had two dozen capitol ships, not quite as many fighters, but a lot more corvettes, frigates, and freighters than their opponents. It was a pretty even firefight once the numbers were added up, and together, the fleet could put down any resistance anywhere in the galaxy.

This was not the total strength of the Republic. There were easily five times as many ships scattered all over the galaxy, but they could not realistically be pulled off duty just to participate in a game.

Without much fanfare, the battle started.

Nothing happened for a long while. The ships continued to spread out taking advantage of the enormous amount of space allotted to them. Like the first round in a boxing match, neither side was looking for a knockout. They wanted to feel out their opponent to see what the other had planned.

Both fleets were outside of the huge system on opposite sides, waiting for someone to come charging in first. Pearson was the first to attack. He had the most capitol ships on the Imperial side with seven Star Destroyers, and he sent three of them fast toward Kevjander. Several freighters and middle class assault ships followed the charge while the four remaining Star Destroyers trailed in an organized flanking procedure.

Captain Allenkar made the counter move, sending his fleet of five Calamarian Cruisers, three Corvettes, and seven assault frigates racing to the gas giant.

Captain Dwenqr was next, barging his three Calamarian Cruisers, two Carrack light cruisers, and three escort carriers into the middle of the system without aiming at any particular planet.

Captain Krychink met this charge with his five Star destroyers, two minor Dreadnoughts, and several Strike-class small cruisers loaded down with TIE's.

The rest of the combatants did not move right away and nonchalantly crept about the fringes of the battlefield, waiting to see what happened in this initial skirmish.

Captain Allenkar was quickly approaching Kevjander and noticed that Pearson was using the huge planet as a shield for his charging ships. The four flanking Star Destroyers stayed back and wide, feeding the charging fleet Allenkar's trajectory, allowing the first ships to keep the planet between the two sides.

Allenkar did not want to be surprised by the charging fleet suddenly appearing around the planet when he was not ready for them, and was forced to drop two of the valuable assault frigates back to monitor the Imperial's charging ships.

As soon as the two frigates fell behind, Pearson sent all but one of his trailing Star Destroyers at an angle far above the gas giant and in plain view of Allenkar's entire fleet. The first three Imperial capitol ships and their collection of smaller assault ships were nearly upon the large planet now, and Allenkar needed to make a decision.

The last information the Calamarian captain had of the charging ships was that they appeared to be preparing to hug the North Pole of the planet as they flew around. His charging ships were nearly at the planet now too, and he released two dozen fighters composed of X-wings and E-wings. Half of the ships went around the west side of the planet, while the other half spun around the east side. Allenkar dumped the remaining dozen of his fighters out in front of his fleet, which stopped several kilcks from the planet. He also sent two cruisers and the remaining frigates straight up to meet the trailing three Star Destroyers that had made the late charge.

Unseen by Allenkar, Pearson also unloaded his fighters, two dozen TIE interceptors and three dozen modified TIE fighters, and sent the majority of them over the top of the planet. The remaining ships with a dozen TIE fighters altered course drastically and circumvented the huge gas giant via the South Pole.

Only the ships high above the planet could see each other, and engaged in some long-range exchange of fire before they closed on each other. The three Destroyers emptied three dozen fighters into the mix, and the two cruisers answered with two dozen B and E-wings. The fighters met before the capitol ships did, and the scrimmage was finally joined.

Down around the planet, Allenkar saw the fighters and interceptors coming over the gas giant like a hive of hungry bees. The fewer Republic fighters stayed near their mother ships as long as possible before meeting the charge. Allenkar had just gotten his fleet oriented toward the incoming fighters, ready for the slower capitol ships to follow, when the attack from below hit.

The Republic captain felt his ship's stabilizers simulate torpedo hits as the fighters, and then the rest of Pearson's fleet ambushed him from below. At this moment on the other side of the planet, the two dozen Republic fighters had just finished the path around the planet without finding an enemy. The squadron commanders ordered half the ships to veer down under the planet, while the rest went north.

Allenkar had his ships fire their reverse thrusters to draw the attacking Imperials out from below and above him, and instead put them in front. The two groups of Imperial ships slowly came together in front of the Republic ships just as the late arriving X and E-wings joined the party from above and below. A dozen TIE's were knocked out of commission in the brief confusion that followed, as well as two assault shuttles, an Imperial Blastboat, and a Calamarian Cruiser.

Captains Krychink and Dwenqr did not have a planet to play with and settled for a dangerous game of chicken with their fleets. They hit each other with pot shots at a distance but were too busy avoiding a deadly collision when they got closer to really do any damage close up.

After passing, Krychink kept going on a suicide run against the remaining three Republic Captains' fleets. He was sorely outnumbered but did manage to finally get the reluctant Captains to join the fray. Dwenqr saw an opportunity to pinch Krychink between his fleet and the rest of the Republic ships and quickly turned about to give chase.

Krychink saw this pursuit and altered his course so he would not get caught. He had not yet engaged any of the other Republic ships, but he had made Captain Collins enter the battlefield. Collins directed his ships toward Mickube, and the jumbled lunar orbits of the 12 moons.

Captain Paxtin, on the Imperial side, saw this move and sent his ships to meet Collins. Sanson, Gencron, and Yun were yet to commit themselves to an area, and the three fleets continued to mosey about the perimeter.

The battle was just about to get interesting.

Chapter 14 "The Scrimmage"

Captain Pearson had a lot of initial success against Allenkar, but now the more seasoned captain was getting the upper hand. Sanson had given Pearson the opening move, thus its success, but now the Imperial captain was being boxed in. The frigates and cruisers that had been sent away from the planet to meet the three Star Destroyers had managed to get above the Imperial ships and force them down toward the planet. Now the Imperials were backed against the planet with ships above and in front of them.

Captain Gencron saw this advantage, and also saw that if Allenkar had just a few more ships he could complete the siege and finish this portion of the Imperial fleet quickly. Allenkar would probably win no matter what, but to deal a quick blow to the other side this early would sway the tide of the battle in the Republic's favor immensely.

Gencron quickly sent his fleet toward Kevjander hoping to get there before Pearson saw the small opening for escape. Sanson saw the opening and told Pearson about it, but the dim-witted Captain thought he could handle it. He did not see Gencron coming with reinforcements. Sanson put her fleet in motion now, heading towoard the large gas giant to let her Super Star Destroyer settle the dispute.

Captain Krychink realized he could not outrun Dwenqr in the small arena in which they had been given to fight. The Imperial had something special planed. He put himself in line with the large Coruscant sun and began to move toward Timzahn, the three ringed planet.

Dwenqr's sensors found it hard to track the Imperial ships with the large sun as a backdrop, and the Republic Captain had to alter his course, to change his line of sight. As a result, Krychink had gotten a bigger lead but had also started to turn around to meet Dwenqr.

The Imperial captain looped his ships around very near the outer ring of the spectacular planet, and headed back the way he had come. Dwenqr saw the change of course and slowly began to alter his own trajectory to meet the charge again.

Elsewhere, Captain Collins had reached Mickube first and had already begun to distribute his cruisers, assault frigates, corvettes, and gunships among the complex orbital patterns of the dozen moons. Captain Paxtin smiled at the sight, glad that Sanson and Snotzenexer were on his side. He or Krychink had had orders to try and lure Collins into this area, but Sanson had thought he might also go there on his own.

Collins was the most experienced captain on the Republic's side, and therefore, had developed tactics and strategies that he enjoyed using. His favorite was using asteroids, in this case moons, to hide his ships and confuse his adversary. He had fought and defeated many Imperial rogues using this tactic. There was an instance, though, nine years ago when an Imperial Admiral had destroyed over half of Collins attack force and severely crippled his command ships before the Republic Captain had pulled out the victory. Though Collins had won, the Imperial command ship had escaped and was never heard from again. The Imperial was Admiral Grestip.

* * *

Leia and Borrel were growing tired of the scrimmage and wandered away from the holo-projector to get some stimsuline and continue work on the news report they were preparing for release. Thomas was about to go with them, thinking that maybe the Imperials were going to play it straight when he noticed the activity around Mickube's moons.

"That's interesting," he said slowly, sitting back down in his chair and focusing back on the battle. The Coruscant Holocasting Company had realized before the battle that they were not going to be able to show all the action on one channel, and had reserved four different ones to monitor the fight. Because of this, Thomas was able to pick the channel that was only focusing on the action around the moons.

He watched carefully as Captain Paxtin deployed his TIE interceptors, and the three dozen fighters paired up. They formed 18 pairs of fighters, each group flying in-line. "Can't be," Thomas said under his breath.

From the view the holo-probe was giving him, Thomas could see one of the pairs approaching a capitol ship nestled behind a moon. There was lots of other fighter traffic around the ships, with TIE fighters engaging X-wings and Y-wings, but the interceptors stayed focused.

Thomas was drawn to the action, his face just centimeters away from the hologram. The two interceptors flew around the moon, the first one unloading a hefty barrage of laser fire on the hidden ship, while its trail did nothing.

"Fire . . .NOW!" Thomas said talking to the tiny ships in front of his face. As if they heard him, the second ship unleashed two simulated torpedoes. The projectiles would have exploded against the back of the first interceptor, but at the last second, the lead ship veered away from the Republic cruiser, following its smooth contour, and the two missiles smashed into the cruiser causing a massive explosion. The second ship was not done yet, emptying its laser batteries into the sore spot on the ship.

"Ah ha, yes!" Thomas screamed, thrusting his fist into the injured cruiser. The Coruscant Holocasting Company had fitted their holo probes to show simulated damage when a ship was hit, and the image of cruiser was smoking badly. "Nice job!"

"Who are you rooting for, anyway?" Leia asked from the doorway. She had just returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug, and saw Thomas punching a Republic ship and cheering when it was hit.

"Huh," the former Imperial Captain turned around, startled. "Oh, that was nothing. I just caught them using one of my moves."

"Your moves?"

"Yea, my moves. I used to teach at the Imperial Officer's Academy, you know. During the early days of the rebellion, long before you got organized, one of the tactics used against the Imperials was what your, uh," he looked at the hologram where all the ships were labeled, "Captain Collins is doing right now. You hide all your ships behind asteroids or moons while your fighters engage in dog fighting. Capitol ships are too clumsy to do any real maneuvering in the cramped quarters of asteroids, so the other fleet can only send in their fighters.

"Meanwhile, some of the fighters belonging to the hiding fleet are really just gathering information on the opponent's capitol ships and relaying it to the hidden ships. The hidden capitols then pop out of hiding for a few seconds at a time and fire. Since they know exactly where the enemy is, they don't have to spend time getting missile locks or aiming their weapons. They take a couple shots, and then pop back behind a rock before the other guys can fire back. Then a different ship pops out of hiding with the coordinates of a ship relayed in from the fighters, fires, and hides again.

"It's a good strategy to use when you are out gunned because you can do a lot of damage to them without absorbing a lot yourself. The draw back is that it takes a long time to cause any real damage because you are only popping out of hiding every once in a while. This means your fighter pilots have to be really good to keep the enemy occupied. Of course, during the rebellion, they were really good, and we needed to develop a way to combat the tactic."

Thomas motioned to the holo-projector. "This is what I thought of. The weakness in the tactic is that while the enemy can't see you, you can't see a whole lot either. So when you see the pair of fighters coming around your asteroid, or moon, or whatever you're hiding behind, you only see the first one. It unloads its laser battery in one spot and your shields are depleted. The capitol ship's guns didn't have enough time to track it because it only saw it once it cleared the asteroid. The first ship veers away just as the ship might get a lock on it, and the automatic guns follow.

"The capitol ship never sees the second ship and before the guns can get back in line to hit it, it has already unloaded two torpedoes and a ton of laser fire. In essence, you get two runs on a ship in one, and all of the fire power is aimed at one part of the ship, usually the communications section so it can no longer receive information from the fighters."

Leia gave the captain an evil smirk. "So you are reason lots of rebels died in combat?"

Thomas was scared for a moment, not sure if the former rebel leader was going to take revenge or not. "Too bad you weren't around for the Death Star, you could have really kicked our butts." Leia left the room leaving Thomas guessing.

He did not focus too much of his attention on it though, and turned back to his tactics being put into use. What Thomas did not know, and what he would have found far more interesting, was that on board Captain Collins' ships, small amounts of prolon gas were slowly being released through the ventilation ducts.

* * *

While Paxtin was keeping Collins busy, things were about to take a turn for the worse with Captain Dwenqr. The Imperials had mapped out the region around Timzahn very extensively for this moment in the battle. Captain Krychink was constantly feeding Dwenqr's fleet coordinates of into his ship's computer, and then altering his flight plan accordingly.

Dwenqr began to squint as the sun came into view again and tried to alter his course, but he would be turning his fleet against Krychink, giving the Imperial a clear shot on the side of his ships. Dwenqr continued to watch as his opponent changed his approach vector once more, and he responded. The Republic captain began to see that the ringed planet would soon block out the sun if this charge continued to progress as it was. Dwenqr smiled, wondering if the Imperial knew this.

Krychink knew it all too well and also knew that all the angles had to be perfect. He made one last correction to his course, and began to target the nearing cruisers. Dwenqr prepared his fleet's weapons as the ships adjusted to this latest change, bringing Timzahn even closer to eclipsing the sun. The spectacular planet was covering half of the sun now, and the rings were sparkling brilliantly. Because this was not a real battle (yet), most of the Republic crew took a moment to view this sight.

Twenty seconds later, Timzahn eclipsed the sun perfectly and Krychink's fleet fired on the awe-struck Republic ships.

The outer solar atmosphere, which extends for several solar radii from the disk of a sun, is called the corona. Most of the corona consists of great arches of hot gas, and it was discovered to be much hotter than the photosphere. The photosphere, or visible surface of a sun, has a temperature of almost 6000 K. The chromosphere, which extends for several thousand kilometers above the photosphere, has a temperature near 30,000 K. But the corona, which extends from just above the chromosphere far out into interplanetary space, has a temperature of over 1,000,000 K. In order to maintain this temperature, a direct input of energy to the corona is necessary.

Finding the mechanism by which this energy reaches the corona is one of the classic problems of astrophysics. Coruscant has been the center for many scientific ventures and gathering data from a Solar and Heliospheric Observatory space probe, found convincing evidence for a solution to this problem. Using a spectral analysis instrument to map the magnetic field of the Coruscant sun showed that regions of plasma between the sun's surface and the corona caused the magnetic field lines to break up due to the electrical characteristics of the plasma. Near the corona the magnetic energy contained in the plasma was strong enough to cause the magnetic field lines to reconnect, releasing massive amounts of radiated energy.

The magnetic field can also trap cooler material above the sun's surface, although the cooler material cannot remain stable there for more than a few days. These phenomena can be seen during an eclipse as small regions, which are called prominences, at the very edge of the sun, like jewels in a crown. Frequently they subside, but occasionally they erupt, blowing solar material into space.

The corona can only be observed during total eclipses, since the luminosity of the corona is only one-millionth that of its sun.

The ships invovled in this scrimmage recorded simulated damage by using advanced optical receivers located all over the ship. These receivers would record the light weapons fired by the enemy and simulate the damage that would have resulted from actual beam weapons.

Dwenqr's fleet had been flying directly into the sun and the optical recorders had been automatically turned down to reduce damage to the sensitive system. Now, experiencing an eclipse, where only the corona was visible at one-millionth the luminosity of the sun, the optical recorders opened themselves wide and instantly fried, overloading from the corona's radioactive intensity.

The explosions of the overloading recorders rocked the fleet like no simulated damage could ever do. These explosions corresponded directly to Krychink's firing on the fleet with his harmless light weapons. One of the X-wings lost control, as he was both blinded by the eclipse and his poorly placed optical recorder ruptured into his lateral stabilizers. The ship veered off to the side and into a Y-wing, both fighters exploding.

Dwenqr staggered under the sight of the brief eclipse and the rocking of his ship. The eclipse passed quickly as the fleet moved the through the predetermined coordinates. "What's going on?!" screamed the captain.

The optical sensors were not normal parts of the ships and were only wired into the damage sensors, thus, the officers working the main sensor controls had no way of pinpointing the added equipment as the culprit. Instead all they had was the fact that when the Imperial fleet had fired on them, they experienced real explosions. They had lost two fighters - for real!

"Sir, it appears the Imperials are using live fire!"

"That's impossible," Dwenqr screamed, but inside he was hoping it was not. He had not enjoyed winning the long-standing conflict against the Imperials. Though winning was great, he enjoyed fighting more. The fiery captain walked quickly over to his observation post and looked and the cruiser flying in formation next to him. There were several sections of the ship sparking, and he could see patches of charred durrasteel all over the ship.

"Sir," one of the lieutenants spoke up, "we lost two fighters."

"Lost meaning?"

"Sir, they are debris."

"Those sons of rancors! Return fire!"

"Live fire, sir?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, live fire. We were fired upon, and we shall return fire. Target weapon systems only."

Krychink expected a com call first, but the short tempered Republic Captain did not bother by asking what in blazes they were doing, and returned live fire. Krychink was forced into accepting a few hits before raising his real shields, not wanting the Coruscant Holocasting Company to think he had been expecting the live fire, even though he had been.

* * *

Back in the collection of Mickube's moons, Captain Collins was reliving an old horror. "Admiral Grestip, is that you?" he said quietly to himself as he watched the paired interceptors attack his ship. He had inhaled a large amount of prolon gas and was hallucinating badly.

Nine years ago he had faced Admiral Grestip in an almost identical situation. Grestip had been a student of Captain Thomas Thorin at the Imperial Officer's Academy and had learned his lessons well. He had crippled Collins' fleet by using the same paired dive bombing runs that Captain Paxtin was now using. Collins had emerged victorious only because his hit and hide tactics had done enough damage that when he had been forced to limp out from behind his rocks, his opponent was limping far worse.

Still, Collins had watched Admiral Grestip retreat while flames were being put out on his cruiser's bridge. He had lost over 1200 men in that battle, half a dozen ships, and none of the surviving ships had escaped without major damage. They had also had to wait for a rescue team to come and get them, for none of the ships had maintained hyperspace capability during the ordeal. Almost a hundred more had died during the wait for medical relief.

Collins was relieving that event now, imagining the fires on his bridge like they had been nine years ago. The crewmembers that had survived had stuck by their captain and many of them were present on the bridge. They were reliving the horrible memories too.

Collins scowled deeply as he watched another run by the interceptors. The automatic targeting system was unable to track the first ship, and then did not see the second one coming. The ship rocked under the simulated fire, but to Collins and his hallucinating crew, it was no longer a simulation.

"Fire!" one of the ensigns screamed, grabbing an extinguisher to put out the imaginary flames.

Several members of the crew started coughing. No one was seeing the fake fire in the same location, resulting in mass hysteria as everyone was fighting a different mirage.

"It is you, Grestip!" Collins screamed at his old nemesis, who, unknown to Collins, had died during a pirate raid three years ago. Collins walked slowly to the navigator's seat amidst the imaginary fires and smoke. "You've come back for me, have you? We'll see if you get away this time."

The navigator had left his seat, in the commotion, and Collins leaned over the controls, bringing his ship out from behind one of the smaller moons. He saw the battle raging around him and the Star Destroyers sitting outside the moons, watching everything. Collins paused at first, fighting against the hallucinations when he saw the fighters throwing around harmless light weapons.

At that moment, Captain Dwenqr came over the com. "We are receiving live fire! I repeat the Imperials are using live fire!"

Collins gasped at the announcement that was definitely not a hallucination and inhaled a large amount of the prolon gas, which was seeping more and more out of the ventilation ducts in his ship. Suddenly the peaceful scrimmage around him transformed itself into a deadly firefight with tremendous explosions and badly injured spacecraft.

"Weapons control!" Collins shouted, above the noise on his bridge.

The young lieutenant manned his station and responded. "Yes, sir!"

"Target that Destroyer, and on your father's life, take it out of the sky."

The lieutenant had not been at the battle nine years ago, but the prolon gas worked just the same, and he had seen the exploding ships around him, signifying the deaths of his friends. He complied with the direct order without question.

Captain Paxtin watched as the Calamarian Cruiser unleashed its wrath on the Star Destroyer to his immediate left. The ship had not been prepared for it and had been caught with its shields down. Explosions seared through the ship, tearing huge sections of the battle machine apart and causing it to list harmlessly in space. The rest of the Star Destroyers immediately raised their shields and watched as some of the other Republic capitol ships began to emerge from their hiding spots, hurling live fire at their mortal enemies. Though none of the other ships were experiencing nine year-old memories. They were acting under direct orders from their captain and indirect orders from prolon gas.

* * *

Sanson began receiving reports from her two captains at once.

"Admiral we are receiving live fire. Please advise."

Sanson, Pearson, Gencron, and Allenkar were engaged in a harmless fight around the gas giant, and had not noticed what was going on elsewhere until the reports started to come in. At least Sanson had pretended not to notice.

"Admiral," Captain Gencron said over the com, "what is going on? Our captains are reporting live fire from the Imperials."

"My captains are reporting the same. They are asking for direction."

"You mean they haven't returned fire yet?"

"They have not," Sanson replied.

"Captain Dwenqr," Gencron called, linking the com so Sanson could hear. "What is going on over there?"

"Captain, we received unprovoked, live fire from the Imperials. We lost two fighters already."

"They are saying they haven't fired," Gencron replied.

"They are lying!" Dwenqr screamed and closed his com.

"He severed the connection," Gencron explained to Sanson.

"We need to see what is going on," Allenkar spoke up.

The mock battle the four fleets had been involved in seemed suddenly unimportant. The uninjured ships quickly gathered into formation with their opponents, and sped toward the live activity. As they neared the space around Timzahn, the situation was clear. Republic fighters and capitol ships were chasing and firing upon Imperial craft with no visible retaliation from the Imperials. Dwenqr had also been able to draw the inactive Captain Yun into his fight.

"Captain Dwenqr," Gencron called into his com. "Stand down! I repeat, stand down!"

"Negative, Captain. I will not allow the Imps to take down our fighters without retaliation."

"There are no Imperials, anymore," Sanson said. "The Empire is dead. We are all members of the Rep-"

"Get her off the com, Carl!" Dwenqr screamed, calling Gencron by his first name.

"She is your - OUR - commanding officer, Captain," Gencron said as sternly as he could. "And she is ordering you to stand dow-"

"She is a lying whore and an Imperial wench. She has no right to fly alongside us, and definitely no right to assume command over me and my men. Now either defend our side, Carl, or step aside and be guilty of treason!" Dwenqr severed the connection again, blocking all further conversations.

"He has lost control," Sanson said calmly over the com to Gencron. She watched as one of her fighters took too much damage and exploded. "He has lost control and people are dying."

"He needs to be taken down," Gencron agreed. He tried to give Dwenqr and Yun one more warning, but could not get through.

Sanson assumed control of the remaining ships not under Dwenqr, Yun, Paxtin, or Collins' control, and the encircled the aggressive captains' ships. Dwenqr and Yun watched as they were teamed up on, and lashed out at anything they could, Imperial or otherwise.

"Take them down, people," Sanson said into the com. She watched another of her ships explode. "But do not risk your own life. If you feel you are in mortal danger, take them out."

"Admiral," it was Captain Paxtin this time, "we are receiving heavy fire. Please advise."

"Captain Collins," Gencron called, hoping Collins was more reasonable, "what's going on over there?"

"We are receiving heavy damage and have lost several ships."

Gencron looked at his scopes and saw that the only damaged ships in the whole system belonged to Imperials, save for the two lost Republic fighters. "Captain, the Imperials have not fired."

"They are lying!" Collins screamed back. "Admiral Grestip has taken out several of my fighters and one of my cruisers."

"Admiral Grestip?" Gencron asked.

"Captain Collins is hallucinating," Captain Allenkar said. "He battled Grestip almost ten years ago and took heavy losses. I think he thinks he is reliving that battle."

"That's insane," Gencron replied. "How-"

"I need ships to help over there," Sanson said, not wanting to get into how the captain was hallucinating. "We need to take him down as well."

"This was a bad idea, Admiral," Gencron said sadly, referring to the scrimmage.

"We can talk about that later, Captain," Sanson replied, suddenly sounding very much in charge. "We will talk about a great many things later, but right now we have to save lives. That might involve taking some, but we will do only what's necessary. Are you with me?"

"Yes, Admiral."

* * *

Leia and Borrel had not stayed away from the holo-projector long. Thomas had called them back emphatically when the live shots started to fly.

"What's happening?" Leia asked as she watched the ships exchanging live fire.

"All of a sudden, Captains Dwenqr and Collins started opening fire on the Imperials. To the Imps credit, they only fired back when ordered to do so by both Sanson and Captain Gencron."

The Coruscant Holocasting Company had gotten access to the com channels being used during the scrimmage and were broadcasting the conversations.

"They are lying!" Collins screamed back. "Admiral Grestip has taken out several of my fighters and one of my cruisers."

"Admiral Grestip?" Gencron asked.

"Captain Collins is hallucinating," Captain Allenkar said. "He battled Grestip almost ten years ago an-"

"Grestip . . ." both Leia and Thomas said together.

". . . is an admiral?" Thomas questioned.

". . . is dead." Leia corrected.

Thomas looked at her. "I heard a rumor through Wedge a couple years ago that he died in a pirate raid. Han was still a general at the time and he got the rumor confirmed through some of his old smuggling buddies."

"I taught him in the academy," Thomas explained. "The guy was an idiot. Of course they were all idiots, but he was an idiot's idiot. He made admiral? I'm glad I switched sides."

"You don't understand," Leia said. "After Thrawn was defeated, the Imperials had no organized leadership and anyone could claim any title they wanted. Grestip might have been an idiot, but like Captain Allenkar said, he gave Collins a hard time about ten years ago. Collins lost a lot of men in that battle and he has never really gotten over it."

Thomas snapped his fingers. "That sneaky little . . ."

"What is it?"

"Don't you see? Sanson and Snotzenexer set it all up. They used the same battle strategy Grestip had used almost ten years ago to make Collins think he was reliving the battle."

"People don't hallucinate like that, Thomas. Especially someone as professional as Collins."

"True," Thomas admitted, "but you don't really think Snotzenexer had all of that prolon gas created just so he could save that planet in the Denorid system, do you? Seems like an awful lot of trouble just to save a planet you destroyed in the first place. He only used that planet as an alibi to produce the hallucinogenic gas."

"Can you prove it?"

"You don't believe me?" Thomas asked, incredulously.

Leia motioned to the datapad she was holding containing the news report they were working on. "I need proof."

"If you do a medical examination on one of the officers within 48 hours of exposure, you should be able to get your proof."

They looked at the holo-projector as one of the Calamarian Cruiser exploded under fire from both Star Destroyers and Republic ships. "If any of them survive," Thomas added.

* * *

Fourteen hours after the disastrous scrimmage had ended, the remaining captains were sitting around the table. Captain Dwenqr and Captain Yun were wearing security cuffs and where each flanked by armed guards. On either side of the two prisoners sat Captains Gencron and Allenkar. Further away, at a safe distance from Captain Dwenqr, sat Captain Krychink. Admiral Sanson stood at the head of the table. Captain Paxtin was in medical care along with hundreds of other officers suffering from varying injuries. The larger portions of Captain Collins were floating somewhere near the third moon of Mickube, burnt to a crisp.

The combined forces of Sanson, Pearson, Gencron, and Allenkar had been able to subdue Dwenqr and Yun without too much trouble, but Collins had been truly crazy. After they had ionized his ship's weapons, he had put his cruiser on a collision course with Paxtin's crippled Star Destroyer. They had tried to take out the engines, but the expert design of the Calamarian ship required that you tear through the ship to get at the main reactor. The resulting explosion had further damaged Paxtin's ship, and had put him and most of his crew in emergency medical care.

None of the participants involved in the deadly battle, including the majority of the population of Coruscant, had slept that night, and every face at the table in the small room was extremely tired. CHC, the Coruscant Holocasting Company, had replayed the battle at least a dozen times during the night, trying to find a reason for the dramatic change of events.

They were able to confirm that no Imperial ship had fired a live shot until ordered to do so in retaliation to the repeated and unprovoked Republic attack. After examining Dwenqr's fleet, though it was heavily damaged during the real fight, it was found that his optical recorders had overloaded and exploded.

Captain Krychink had given a statement claiming he had wanted to use the backdrop of the eclipse as a way to blind his opponent while he attacked, but had no idea that the eclipse could do that to the optical recorders. Captain Dwenqr had refused to give a statement. All the evidence clearly pointed that he had over-reacted and had caused the deaths of dozens of men, but he still held on to some claim that the Imperials were responsible.

Captain Collins had also obviously been at fault in the massacre in the moons. Two Star Destroyers had been destroyed and several cruisers had been damaged beyond repair. People were hesitant to blame the dead captain for the atrocity, because unlike Dwenqr, Collins had an immaculate record and was revered as a Republic hero.

In the end, only Sanson and Krychink came out of the scrimmage with praise. Sanson had deferred to Captain Gencron when the call for attacking the out-of-control captains was made. If she had truly been an evil Imperial officer, like Dwenqr claimed, she would have jumped at the opportunity to legally attack Republic ships. Krychink was being hailed as a tactical genius and an Imperial with great restraint. While his move with the eclipse jump-started the chaos, the spur-of-the moment move genius, like Sanson, showed immense restraint when faced with a hostile attacker.

Though Allenkar and Gencron had done nothing wrong, they were members of the loosing side and hung their heads in shame along with Yun and Dwenqr. After all the hype by the Republic Captains, it was they who had fired the first shots and betrayed the trust. Dwenqr and Yun were being dishonorably discharged from the military and would spend several decades in prison for their actions. Gencron and Allenkar were not being charged with anything, but both agreed that it would be best if they went into early retirement and turned the fleet over to Sanson.

"We are going to have to work hard to recover from this incident," Sanson said slowly, looking at everyone at the table as she spoke. Only Dwenqr returned the look, while everyone else stared holes in the table. The portly captain still felt the female admiral was responsible for this outrage, he just could not prove it.

"Captains Gencron and Allenkar, you know that I disagree with your decisions and wish you would reconsider your resignations."

They both shook their heads. "We are as much to blame as anyone," Gencron said slowly. "We both spread anti-Imperial propaganda around our crews before the battle, and while none of us fired illegally, we didn't help the matter either."

Sanson sighed. "What we need to do is remove that word from everyone's vocabulary. There is no more Empire. There are no more Imperials. Those who would still call themselves Imperials are merely hopeless rogues on the outskirts of the unexplored regions. We are all members of the Republic.

"Maybe it is best if you step down," Sanson admitted. "People need to see that the military will no longer be divided into two clear groups. We are all members of the same military with one goal: peace. We need to promote galactic peace."

Admiral Sanson was nearly gagging on her words, but she continued. "The Republic military needs to be a sign of strength and security, ready to put down any uprising or civil war that threatens peace. If the military is fighting amongst itself, how can it be expected to handle external conflict?"

Everyone nodded except Dwenqr, who had not taken his eyes off Sanson. The admiral tried not to stare back. If she started that, she would quickly loose the cool demeanor she was trying to maintain. She would have him killed while he was in prison. That would be easy enough with the Coruscant jails filled with ex-Imperials.

The short meeting ended with many more to follow. Sanson would speak to every media organization within ten sectors. Gencron and Allenkar would officially announce their resignation, and the trial for Dwenqr and Yun would be held this afternoon. At nightfall, Captain Collins' funeral would take place. It was going to be a very busy day, and all Sanson really wanted to do was curl up in bed with her son and sleep for a week.

Chapter 15 "The Game's Afoot"

Vince looked at the huge gas giant in front of him. The swirls of color and vibrant flashes of energy that coursed through Yavin momentarily mesmerized him before a turbo laser scorched across his filed of vision. Vince shook his head, amazed at how quickly the Jedi students had gained familiarity with the V-38's controls. The experienced pilot put his ship into a nasty dive, twisting 540 degrees, inverting his ship and reversing his original trajectory. The next two shots did not come close, and Vince realized how far these students still had to come.

Vince and Bep had only been training the Jedi for a day and a half, but already the students (most of whom had never flown a fighter before) were better than most Imperial pilots the pair had fought against. The Jedi had several things in their favor. First they had the Force.

Vince had been at a loss as to how he could teach these students most effectively. He knew how to teach a novice to fly. That had been part of his responsibility back in the old days of the Republic before Snotzenexer and Sanson. The problem was that he usually spent two weeks with a new class before they ever sat in the cockpit. Vince did not have that kind of time now. He had been forced to show the young Jedi the ships, explain what never to do, and then let them experiment with it.

The initial results were disastrous. They had blown three engines and nearly crashed one fighter in the first two hours. Even after they had successfully gotten into space, Vince and Bep (the targets) barely had to do more than fly in a straight line to keep from getting hit. The Jedi had no experience flying, much less flying and shooting. Vince had altered the laser cannons on the TIE's to make sure the shots would be non-lethal if they ever hit the evasive W-wings, but that began to seem unnecessary. It was not until Mara had given her advice that they started to see some progress.

Mara had suggested they fly patterns around Yavin. Vince and Bep balked at the idea. They were seasoned pilots, the best in the fleet, and they did not feel comfortable flying through the unpredictable gravity wells that permeated around the planet. Still, Mara insisted they at least try. The results were instantaneous. The Jedi began to follow Vince and Bep's maneuvers more easily. They still had a hard time firing, but after a day of flying, that came along also.

That night, Mara had tried to explain to Vince that the gas giant produced an enormous amount of energy that stood out profoundly in a Jedi's mind. Once the Jedi opened their minds to that energy, they began to feel the energies of their ships as well. Vince did not understand most of it, but realized that Yavin was able to inspire the Jedi's powers in ways that his rudimentary teaching skills could not.

The second thing the Jedi had going for them was that their V-38's were invisible. Vince and Bep had no idea when they had a tail, or how many. The location of the ships could be discerned only when they fired, but after a few lucky hits by Vince and Bep, the Jedi learned to keep moving afterwards.

Now Vince could tell that he was being followed closely by at least three fighters, and while he had not seriously tried to loose any of them yet, he had done enough maneuvers to satisfy his concern as to the Jedi's skill. Mara had told Vince that these Jedi likely would not have to fight other fighters, and since they were equipped with turbo lasers, they would be valuable assets against the Imperial capitol ships. Vince understood that their little rag-tag rebellion did not have any capitol ships to combat Snotzenexer and friends, but other than the two W-wings, they did not have any fighters either. Vince hoped that Mara and Thomas were not counting on he and Bep to take out the entire Imperial fighter collection they would encounter. Maybe if they still had Jon . . .

Vince cleared his head of those thoughts. He had to have confidence that Mara and Thomas knew what they were doing. They would win - they had to win! - and then they would go after Jon. Vince turned his attention back to the empty space scene in front of him, trying to avoid the cross hairs of two dozen invisible ships.

The com unit in the W-wing crackled before Vince could continue. "Vince," Mara's voice came over the speaker, "wrap it up and bring them in. I just got a call from Thomas. The game's afoot."

* * *

Leia sat in front of the holo-com unit in the TBC headquarters on Torenick. She had a call to make, but was still trying to rationalize it. She was about to call a long time friend on Coruscant. Dr. Herren Finsch had been the doctor for her and her family back on Coruscant. The Force filled family rarely had to turn to modern medicine to cure their physical ills, but on such occasion that it became necessary, Dr. Finsch had been their doctor.

It was not whom she was calling that she needed to rationalize, it was what she was going to request of the family friend. She was going to ask him to check for prolan gas in the surviving officers that had been under Captain Collins' command during the scrimmage.

Snotzenexer had started his drug and health organization seven months ago. Prolanstina, the bacteria used to make prolan gas, took six months to reach maturity. If Snotzenexer did not have every little detail of his plan laid out, and only knew that he would want to play with the minds Republic Officers, he would have grown a wider range of hallucinogens, most far more powerful than prolan gas. Prolan gas did not produce random visions or hallucinations. The oxygenating gas heightened a person's senses and memory, making past events and present ones seem indecipherable.

The other illegal drugs Thomas had shown Leia that were more potent, were produced from vegetation that usually had a very legitimate use, giving the Republic President a valid alibi. Instead, Snotzenexer had used prolanstina, which had only one use, and not a good one.

In order to justify Snotzenexer's choice, one had to assume that he had laid out the entire plan, down to the precise outcome of the scrimmage. The fact that he had done this over seven months ago, before his wife was even a member of the Republic Navy, shocked Leia to the core.

Leia, Thomas, Mara, Han, and everyone else were just days way from a fight with the former Imperial Admiral, and Leia could not help but wonder if Snotzenexer had already laid out the location, methods, and outcome of that battle. Leia shook her head, trying to rid herself of the distressful thoughts and dialed up the frequency of Dr. Finsch.

Dr. Finsch's secretary answered the call, as expected, and said that the palace doctor was very busy tending to the injured from the scrimmage. The secretary recognized Leia, though, and said she would try to get the doctor.

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Finsch sat down in front of the holo-com on Coruscant. He wore his traditional sky blue coat and was drying his hands on a small white towel. He had told Leia once that he washed his hands on an average of 60 times a day. "Good morning, Leia."

Dr. Finsch had been one of the few people in the Coruscant Palace staff that had always called Leia and Han by their first names. It was not morning where Leia was, and the fact that the Coruscant Palace was on a much different time schedule reminded her that when they eventually released their news bulletin, they wanted to do so when Coruscant's nervous system was asleep.

"Good morning, Herren," Leia responded. "I have an unusual favor to ask of you."

Normally the doctor would be very responsive to one of Leia's requests, but these were not normal times. "Leia, I'm very busy right now, and I shouldn't have even taken this call. I've got a lo-"

"This won't interfere with your duties with the injured officers. In fact this might answer a few questions."

Herren's ears pricked up at this and waited to here what the former president had to say. "I would like you to check for evidence of prolan gas."

If Leia had asked him to check to make sure each of his patients were not really rancors in disguise, it would have come as little more surprise. Herren's mind was immediately assailed with dozens of possibilities.

He knew what the illegal gas was, what it was capable of doing, and that Snotzenexer had been producing very large amounts of it. Leia was right, if he did find evidence of the gas in the men he was treating, it would answer a few questions, mainly: Why had someone as professional and experienced as Captain Collins loose control so easily?

While it answered the most prominent question, it also brought to the table more important questions such as why, when, and most definitely, who had put tanks of prolan gas on the Republic ships. The answers to these questions were relatively obvious, but as the doctor who had delivered Snotzenexer's son, the answers were not easily coped with.

It took a while for Herren to respond verbally. "And if I find it?" he asked weakly, referring to the gas.

"Take cover," Leia responded, totally serious.

Dr. Finsch nodded resolutely, already trying to figure out what he would do with the information once he obtained it. Checking for prolan gas was far from a standard procedure, but the test was not unknown to Herren, and he was trying to figure out which nurse he could trust to assist him.

The call ended, and Leia knew that this piece of information would not need to be included in their news release. The senate had called a special session to take place in a little over 24 hours, and Leia knew by then that every senator and their aids would know what had caused Collins to hallucinate.

Leia was about to get up from her chair, when she remembered another call she had to make. Inputting a similar frequency as before, Leia called up another friend on Coruscant, who was no doubt just as busy as Dr. Finsch.

Evlyn Cariasco was the head of the Senate Investigation Committee and her teams had been put into furious action to try and discern what had gone wrong in the scrimmage and whose fault it was. The trials for Captains Dwenqr and Yun were taking place today and her teams were responsible for over 80% of the evidence to be used. Her office was ground zero, and she had spent the last 14 hours talking on her com unit. It was a miracle, actually, that Leia had not gotten a busy signal.

"Cariasco here," Evlyn responded, answering her device before the first chime was completed. The senator saw who it was and spoke before Leia could. "I'm very busy right now Leia, and don't have the ti-"

"I'll just be a second," Leia lied. "I was just curious if you have received a report from the team you sent to Xentin to investigate the mining explosion."

Of all the things . . . Evlyn thought. She had indeed sent a team to the devastated planet at Leia's request, though the act was more out of boredom than any conviction the accident warranted a full investigation. A volcano had erupted, pure and simple. Now here was Leia bugging her about it again. "I really don't have the time." She almost cut Leia off.

"Please! Can you just check? I know you've been up all night and have thought of little else but the scrimmage. Maybe the report came in during the night."

Evlyn's finger was poised over the disconnect switch, but she sighed in defeat. "Okay, I'll check."

Leia watched as the senator's head turned away from the holo-com to look at her computer. Evlyn called up the list of messages she'd received in the last 24 hours only to find that she had received ten times as many electronic messages as through her com. Her frustration only grew more as she recognized several large news organizations that had requested interviews. If she did not respond to them through electronic messaging, they would also soon bug her on the com.

As her eyes went down the long list of messages, she did find one from her team on Xentin, a team she would shortly recall to work on much more important matters. She opened the message and quickly began to scan the document looking for key words. Equipment problems . . . drilling . . . samples . . . tests . . . radiation . . . conclusive evidence . . . sabotage . . . VIB representative. Evlyn suddenly stopped her scanning, realizing that this message actually held some important data.

Reading more closely she found that the team had taken some samples from the main disaster site and found very high levels of radiation. The explosives used by the mining corporation were standard charges and non-atomic. There was no uranium, tyustium, or any other radioactive material in area, or even common to the planet. The team felt they had conclusive evidence that an unauthorized atomic explosive had been used in a very fragile location of the mines.

Some of the non-geological investigation they did included confirming from some of the remaining records that all of the thermal pressures were actually lower than normal at the time of the explosion. They also confirmed that the sanctioned blasting that had taken place in conjunction with the accident was being performed so high up in the mine, that even if it had been an atomic blast, it could not have produce a volcanic eruption.

The team then looked into who had been on the planet at the time of the explosion. There had only been four guests that week an only one of them was not a regular and without a security pass. A man by the name of Narion Loits, a representative of the Varion Imperial Bank, had visited on short notice and been given a tour of the main mining facility only moments before the accident had taken place.

Evlyn stared blankly at the report. It did not accuse this Narion Loits of the crime, it merely pointed out that he was the only suspect. The senator turned slowly back to the holo-com unit and Leia's waiting face. Leia had seen Evlyn's face in profile as she had read the document and knew the nature of the report.

"What did it say?" Leia asked, seeing that Evlyn was still too shocked to speak.

"The team suspects sabotage," Evlyn replied, downplaying the fact that the report stated it was definitely sabotage.

"Do they have any suspects?"

"Not yet," Evlyn lied. It was not that she did not want to admit Leia was right or that Snotzenexer was wrong. She held no loyalties either way. Evlyn did not want to face reality. If Leia was right about this, what else had she been right about? Was Snotzenexer an Imperial? Had he and Sanson been involved in the Danzig system? Did Snotzenexer plan to return the government to an Imperial dictatorship?

Evlyn quickly promised to call Leia when she got more information and ended the call. The senator leaned back in her chair, overwhelmed. She was not going to keep this report a secret, but she also was not going to broadcast it until her team could get more substantial evidence. Before Evlyn could progress further down that thought line, her com chimed again. It was a reporter. Evlyn sighed, preparing for a long day.

* * *

Ferris Loyran, President of the Varion Construction Yards, set one of his company's nicer ships down smoothly in a public landing zone on Torenick. Sandie Hollins, Eranadis Palpatine, and Jon Poncho sat by eagerly as Ferris completed the ship's shutdown procedure.

The four had flown here in response to the latest release from TBC concerning Snotzenexer's corrupt nature. Jon had told them that Leia, Thomas, Mara, or all three had to be behind the publication. Sandie, Eran, and Ferris had agreed that no one on the outside could know so much.

Though the group knew where they had to go to join the rebellion, they were not sure they would be allowed in. If they could talk with one of Jon's friends, they would no doubt accept them with open arms, but the group would more likely run into secretaries and security guards who had no idea who they were talking about.

Thirty minutes after landing, the foursome was standing outside the main office building of the TBC. Ferris led the way into the building, followed by Sandie and then Jon. Eran, always on the lookout for enemies, pulled up in the rear.

The main lobby was bustling with activity. Aliens and humans were crowded in the large area, which did not seem so big at the moment. Ferris had a guess why they were all here and had it confirmed a moment later.

"I'm sorry sir, but if you don't have an appointment I can't announce your presence."

"But we're different," he tried to say. "We need to talk to the editors of the Galactic Inquirer."

"How are you different from the rest of these people?" the secretary asked sarcastically, motioning to the full room. "Over there is someone who claims to be from the future and knows all of the lottery numbers and the outcomes to every major sporting event. Over there is someone who claims to be from another galaxy and knows the meaning of life. Over there . . ." the secretary continued to point around the room at different eccentric guests in the lobby.

The Galactic Inquirer had been a tabloid that specialized in the bizarre and exotic. It had been out of publication for half a year after its parent company had been destroyed, but since its latest publication, despite the fact that the subject matter was far more serious than before, the freaks of the universe had seen their chance for fame rekindled.

"No," Ferris cut off the woman, feeling she could go on for quite a while, "we're not different like that. We are important people."

The secretary nodded her head. She had heard it all before.

"I'm . . ." Ferris started to say, introducing himself, but realized that Sandie was more famous. "This is Sandie Hollins," he motioned behind him, "President of the Varion Imperial Bank."

"And I'm Leia Organa-Solo," the secretary said sarcastically without missing a beat, "come to organize a new rebellion."

Ferris nearly jumped at the accurate words, hoping the secretary did not realize the truth in what she had just said. Sandie remained calm, producing her ID card. The secretary took it reluctantly and flipped it through her authenticiser. The woman sat up a little straighter in her chair when the device gave a confirming beep that the ID was authentic.

"Um, I'm sorry, President Hollins, who is it that you said you wanted to see?"

Ferris had not given a name, only that he wanted to see the editors of the Galactic Inquirer. "Cayron Moall," Sandie said, having researched who the top man in this building was. The chief producer probably would not be involved with what they wanted, but he would be able to direct them toward the people who were.

"And what exactly did you want to talk to him about?"

"The Documentary," Sandie responded.

The secretary put a call into the producer's office and waited several moments before Cayron answered. "Sir, I have Sandie Hollins and . . ." she paused and looked at Ferris. "What was your name?"

"Ferris Loyran, President of the Varion Constr-"

". . .someone named Ferris," the secretary continued into the phone. She paused listening to the other end. "I did, sir. She checks out." Pause. "I don't know." Pause. "Yes, sir." The secretary hung up and looked at Sandie. "Moall will see you."

Ferris understood that he was not invited.

"I will bring my bodyguard," Sandie said, looking back at Eran. He and Jon were busy trying to fight off a Rodian who was convinced he could fix Jon's legs if they would just let him stick a large, dirty, wooden peg in Jon's left ear.

"But I have healing powers!" the freak cried.

"You're going to need healing yourself, if you don't get that stick away from my friend," Eran said sharply.

"Eran," Sandie said sharply, "come with me."

Eran cast a dirty look at the alien and reluctantly left Jon's side. Ferris was quick to take up the defense and the Rodian decided to retreat to his seat. "I do have healing powers," he said quietly, more to bolster his own false confidence than to argue with Eran and Ferris.

Ferris and Jon moved off to a relatively empty section of the lobby and watched as Eran and Sandie walked through the yielding doors toward the turbo lift that would take them to Cayron Moall's office.

After a short ride up the building, the turbo lift opened into a short hallway that ran perpendicular. Eran and Sandie heard noise from both their left and right and had a feeling that both directions led to the same large room on the other side of the wall in front of them. They went left and shortly turned right to look into a room of utter chaos.

Men and women were pounding on keyboards, shouting at each other, shoving pastries in their face when ever they found a free hand, and generally running all over the place. The narrow walkways between the dozens of desks were often too littered to travel well, and when someone needed to distribute information, they simply yelled that person's name and hurled a data card in their general direction. The recipient barely looked up at the sound of his name and somehow picking out the spinning datacard his way. He would catch it in a practiced motion and continue working. Food was also distributed in this same projectile fashion with a remarkable success rate.

Sandie and Eran stared for a long while, hoping that the secretary had sent the turbo lift to the right floor. Neither of them knew what Cayron Moall looked like, but they hoped Sandie would be recognizable. An older man saw them from across the room and quickly made his way toward them. Halfway across the room, Cayron had to stop short as a doughnut sailed in front of his face and then took a quick step forward as a datacard zipped by behind his head.

Eran noticed that no one in the room seemed overly concerned that they had nearly taken out their boss. Eran's guess that this man was Cayron Moall was confirmed a few seconds later when he approached them. Cayron recognized Sandie easily enough, but scowled when he saw Eran, having specifically told his secretary that he did not have time to talk with this Ferris fellow.

"Thanks for seeing us on such short notice," Sandie said. She noticed Cayron's scowl towards Eran. "This is my bodyguard, Eranadis. He goes with me everywhere."

"Of course," Cayron said, the scowl disappearing from his face. The VIB head office had just been destroyed and this woman had a right to be concerned with her safety. "What is it exactly that you wish to talk to me about? As you can see we are very busy."

Cayron led the pair through the narrow pathway back to his office. Sandie began to speak but Eran cut her off. "We want to talk with her," Eran said as he pointed to the side at a glassed-off conference room that only became visible when the group moved into the middle of the main room.

Cayron was startled by the young man's interruption, and looked at Sandie for confirmation. Sandie was following Eran's finger, seeing that the observant man had picked out Leia. She was sitting at a large table in a small side room with two other men. One of the men matched Jon's description of Thomas. "Yes," Sandie said, happy that she did not have to speak with Cayron. "We would like to talk with Leia Organa-Solo."

Borrel Curtis, the TBC director who had gotten Cayron the Snotzenexer story, had told him that many more people would be coming in the next few days, but Cayron had thought that they would have been able to announce their intentions better. He shrugged his shoulders. "As you wish."

Leia looked up from her discussion with Thomas and Borrel, sensing that visitors were here to see her. Having not sensed Mara's presence, she was curious as to whom it could be. She looked at the three approaching figures, having no problem identifying Cayron, but the other two were a mystery to her.

Sandie had only gained prominence after Leia had left office and was still only recognizable within the Varion sector, which the Torenick system was part of. "It's Sandie Hollins," Borrel said, recognizing her immediately. Thomas too recognized her, for he had done a lot of research into the recent destruction of the head office of the VIB on Iom. Sandie had survived the explosion, obviously, but reports said she had disappeared from the hospital a day ago.

No one knew who Eran was.

Cayron opened the door for the two visitors and then closed it, keeping himself in the main room. He had been promised the story in its entirety and did not care for bits and pieces that would only distract him from his other duties. Cayron walked back to his office leaving the five people to their own.

"I'm Sandie Hollins and this is Eranadis Palp-" she stopped, not wanting to reveal the young man's last name just yet. "Eran, for short."

Everyone was looking at Eran with suspicion, especially Leia. The mother of three Jedi could definitely sense Eran's presence in the Force, but could not quite label him as a Force user.

No one knew where to start. Neither side knew what the other group knew or what their agenda was. Eran was the only one who was pretty sure they were on the same page.

He started from the beginning. He told the group about how he had worked for a government agency, fighting organized crime in the Varion system. Admiral Sanson had approached him and introduced him to Admiral Snotzenexer. They had hired him to steal some financial records from Coruscant.

By this time Leia had figured out who he was. She had talked with Han, and he had told her about the man who had stolen the records, killed Jacen, and brought Jaina back. Leia had talked with Jaina before she had left on her trip to get Jacen, and knew enough that Eran was innocent of any real wrong doing. The only problem was he was supposed to be dead.

Eran told them about the asteroids he had seen in the hold of the Super Star Destroyer. He spent very little time on his theft and flight from the twins. Eran avoided eye contact with Leia when he spoke of Jacen's death and Jaina's coma. His meeting with Han peeked Leia's interest because she knew Eran's supposed death scene was to come soon.

Eran did not boast in his survival, and only told how he did it. He then spoke of his investigation into Snotzenexer's dealings with Custom Shields Galactica and how the president was responsible for the destruction. Thomas had read the reports saying that an impostor had posed as Norric Harmeon and had embarrassed Snotzenexer and Sanson at the Health and Drug Administration Gala. The old Imperial Captain smiled at the idea that the impostor was before him now.

Eran spoke briefly on his assignment to be Sandie's bodyguard and of the bank's destruction, knowing that Sandie would go into those details much more completely. After he was done speaking, he stepped back from the group, hoping someone else would take up the exposition.

The group remained silent and Eran looked at the faces before him slowly. He settled on Leia. "I'm sorry," he said without really thinking.

"It's okay," she replied. "Jaina is well, and we believe Jacen is too."

"But I-" Eran stopped. He had killed Jacen, he knew that, but he also knew that the Jedi's body had disappeared immediately after the deed. There was a lot Eran did not know about Jedi. "Where is he?" Eran asked, his hands going instinctively to the inside of his jacket to his lightsabers. Would Jacen still want to fight him?

"That is a very good question," Leia responded. She did not know where Jaina had gone. Her daughter had said the trip would take her several months. It had been almost seven months since she had left and Leia hoped her children would return soon. She could use their help.

Thomas wanted to move this meeting into a more advanced stage, realizing they were all working on a time table. "I'd like to talk to you about custom Shields Galactica," he said to Eran, "and to you about the VIB," he turned to Sandie.

"We have two more associates with us down stairs," Sandie said, almost forgetting about Ferris and Jon. "The president of the VCY and a young man who says he used to be part of your group before his fighter went down on Iom, Jon Poncho."

Leia was ecstatic that the young man was still alive. He would be a major bonus once the fight reached space. Thomas was similarly excited hearing that the VCY president was on their side. He knew about the Star Destroyers docked at the construction facility in the Varion system, and had secretly fantasized about obtaining them. Those ideas no longer seemed like fantasies. The game was definitely afoot.

Chapter 16 "Trade Off"

Snotzenexer walked down the hallway, deep in thought. His wife was busy with the authorities. It was a funny idea to Snotzenexer. After all, he and his wife were the authorities. At times of crises like this the senate had an amazing ability of producing dozens of people to take charge of the situation. They were questioning her on everything at least a dozen times. The CHC, Coruscant Holocasting Company, had done nothing but show and reshow the scrimmage. The fight had lasted only a little more than an hour, but since there had been three distinct section to the fight and the CHC had several dozen cameras located all over the system, they had a good seven hours of worthwhile footage.

The "authorities" were forcing Sanson to go over every second of the footage, explaining what had happened. Snotzenexer felt very confident in his wife's ability to handle the questions and in her stamina to last through them. He had much less confidence in Captains Dwenqr and Yun, the two men who were being blamed for the catastrophe along with their dead associate, Captain Collins.

Sanson was seen as the hero, and her interviews were likely being done with dimmed lights and calm voices. Dwenqr and Yun were more likely enduring hot lights and very uptight interrogators. Snotzenexer did not hold too much faith in Captain Paxtin or Captain Pearson, his underlings. Fortunately, Pearson had been kept away from the main action, something that had not happened by chance, and Paxtin was still undergoing medical treatment and would not be ready for interrogation until long after the issue was decided. Captain Krychink, the remaining Imperial had a good head on his shoulders and would be fine. While he had been involved in much more than Pearson had, he was as innocent as could be and would get the same hero treatment as Sanson.

Captain Yun was weak and would blame everything on Dwenqr, saying he only joined in the fight against the Imperials when the more seasoned captain had insisted. Dwenqr would stupidly deny that he was ever in the wrong, despite the hours of footage from a dozen angles that the interrogators would show him proving the captain to be at fault. In reality if the man just admitted that he had acted in haste, letting his deeply rooted hatred for the Empire get the best of him, they would be easier on him. If he admitted, he'd probably escape with an exile. As it stood, Snotzenexer was sure he'd get no less than life in prison.

Captains Allenkar and Gencron were also innocent, but they had already announced their intentions to resign, and Snotzenexer assumed that the authorities would have requested it anyway. It had been Snotzenexer's idea to originally label Admiral Antilles and Captain Tremon as traitors when they had turned on his men, and now everyone else was finally coming around, seeing that Snotzenexer had been right and they needed a complete changing of the guard.

Snotzenexer smiled as he reached the end of the hall, everything would be just fine. The president pressed the chime next to the door at the end of the hall, and it promptly opened. Snotzenexer did not like Cog Fardin. It was not that the Twi'lek was doing a bad job at handling the Trade Federation, far from it. Snotzenexer just did not like him. He kind of wished Mara had taken the job when he had offered it to her.

Cog sat behind his desk a little straighter as Snotzenexer walked in. "Yes, sir." The Twi'lek was going to try extra hard to not ramble like he normally did when talking to Snotzenexer.

"I need you to set up a trade embargo," Snotzenexer said bluntly without so much as a greeting.

"No problem. Which planet?"

"Torenick," Snotzenexer replied. He knew who had been responsible for the news release about the PEN explosion and the asteroids. He also knew a lot about the TBC. When he had blown up the PEN building, the TBC had become huge. Snotzenexer had become familiar with the planet's Prime Minister, and still occasionally called the man. Snotzenexer had also just talked with the planet's senator, for they were a member world. The kid (the senator could not have been older than 25) was the Prime Minister's son and was a weakling if Snotzenexer had ever met one.

When Torenick found out about the embargo, the proper thing would be to bring it up in front of the senate, and then Snotzenexer would be in big trouble. Torenick's senator would wet his pants if he ever tried to address the senate. Snotzenexer even got nervous in the huge senate chamber. Snotzenexer had just minutes before told the young man that if anything ever troubled him, the senator should come to his office, and Snotzenexer would take car of it. The man seemed very relieved, for while he was extremely timid, he was also quite bright and recognized that the TBC reports might turn into something requiring action of him.

When the kid's dad called him up to put an end to this embargo, the young senator would march straight to the president's office to get an answer. Snotzenexer would say that he had not intended to place the entire world under an embargo, but had set it up against the TBC buildings. He would play stupid and say that the system must not allow such specific targeting.

The kid would know that the president should not have that kind of power and would request the embargo be lifted. By that time Snotzenexer expected another release from the Galactic Inquirer. He did not think it would accuse him of anything too drastic yet, and nothing he would not be able to refute.

Snotzenexer would point out that the reports coming out of the TBC were very detrimental to the Republic as a whole and were totally unfounded. Snotzenexer would see what he could do about the embargo if the kid's father could see his way to ending the offending publications. The young senator would recognize the threat for what it was: Stop the TBC or the embargo stays.

Snotzenexer smiled at the decision the kid would be faced with. He could face the senate, or he could tell his father to shut down the TBC. The latter would be far easier on the young man and Snotzenexer knew that would be the end of the rebel fed publications. He could even get TBC to submit a later report that stated all of their earlier reports were fabrications. After all, they were in the process of showing a documentary recounting all of Snotzenexer's exploits. It was a broadcast that the president never missed.

Cog Fardin screwed up his face. He had never heard of Torenick before and had hoped that Snotzenexer's first move like this would come against a well-known planet. Cog liked action.

Snotzenexer saw his expression and misread it. "Is there a problem with that?"

"No, no problem," Cog said slowly and with his mind elsewhere he forgot to control his comments. "You see the system is set up beautifully. Every planet has a code, and all we have to do is prompt the system to cancel all shipments to th-"

"I'll need ships too," Snotzenexer cut him off.

Cog nearly slapped himself. "How many?"

"Half a dozen ships should be enough to block all incoming traffic."

Cog really wanted to hold his next comments back, but he thought that the president was without vital information. "I can get the ships, sir, but they won't be needed. You see, the Trade Federation controls all of the trade, period. If I remove Torenick from the schedule, there is no other shipping organization that cou-"

"Six ships. I want six ships around that planet in less than 48 hours." Snotzenexer left the office abruptly.

Cog wondered if he had just been fired. On the off chance that he still had his job, he jumped up from behind his desk and left out the rear exit of his office. There his personal transport was waiting, and he raced to the Trade Federation computer center. The computer center, where Ghent spent all his time, was actually in the same building as Cog's office, but was over two kilometers away and Cog could get there quicker by taking the external route.

Ninety seconds later Cog was rushing through one of the private entrances to the computer center. Ghent was busy checking some of his other moneymakers and nearly fell out of his chair when his Twi'lek boss burst into the room.

"Quintil," Cog nearly yelled, calling Ghent by his alias. "I need you to set up an embargo for me right now."

Ghent got up from his chair quickly and led the flustered administrator over to the main computer. "On what business do you want to place the embargo?" Ghent asked calmly.

If Snotzenexer knew that each and every business that had ever purchased something through the Trade Federation had a code, and thus each of them could be singled out for an embargo, he still would not have changed his plan. He needed to get the attention of the Prime Minister as fast as he could, and this was the best way.

"Not a business, a planet: Torenick."

Ghent did a very unintentional double take. He knew nothing about the TBC. He did know where Leia and Thomas were, though, and Torenick was it. This order had obviously come from Snotzenexer. "Not a problem."

Cog was too agitated to notice Ghent's reaction to the planet's name. He watched as Ghent entered the first few letters of the planet and the computer jumped down the alphabetical listing of each world with a company that had done business with the Trade Federation. Ghent had to enter six letters before the computer singled out Torenick.

Ghent quickly placed a flag on the planet. He then opened up the flag to define its use. Flags were the easiest way to alter a company's relationship with the Trade Federation. You could put a flag on a business to increase or decrease all quotes by a certain percentage. You could use a flag to give a warning when a business had ordered an excess amount of a certain cargo. Ghent used this flag to deny all shipment requests to any company that fell under the Torenick planetary code.

"Now when the companies on this planet," Ghent explained, "and there are over 150 that deal with the Trade Federation, start seeing that all their requests are being denied, they are going to call their local Trade Federation office on Vario, and demand what's going on."

"What will happen then?" Cog asked.

"After the people on Vario get enough calls from the same planet, they will run a check on Torenick and see this flag to deny all shipments. They will then relay this information to the companies back on Torenick, forcing them to either go to their government to get the embargo removed, or they will have to buy from a Torenick based source that takes advantage of a local shipping agency."

Ghent looked up at Cog. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what this embargo is for."

Cog shook his head. He did not even know. His business at the computer center was done, now he had to get those six siege ships to Torenick. The Federation owned battle ships were spread out all over the galaxy and were normally used to respond to pirate attacks. Cog did not need Ghent's help to organize the siege ships, and left.

Ghent watched the Twi'lek go, wondering how long he should wait before he gave Thomas a call.

* * *

Snotzenexer walked away from Cog's office shaking his head. When all of this settled down in a few weeks and the rebels were removed, he would be able to find himself a new Trade Federation Administrator, a human.

Glancing at his wrist chrono, Snotzenexer saw that Sanson should be breaking for breakfast soon. Though the sessions had lasted all night, and would last all day until the trials in the evening, they did break for meals. Snotzenexer forwarded a message to his kitchen droid to have Sanson's favorite breakfast meal prepared.

Ten minutes later, husband and wife were seated at the table. Sanson looked exhausted. Snotzenexer truly wished there was something he could do to share the burden, but he knew he would be overstepping his bounds if he tried to grant Sanson a reprieve in the torturous schedule. People would see him confusing family with government proceedings, and he'd be reprimanded.

Snotzenexer tried to laugh about that, considering all the other things he was doing without receiving so much as a slap on the wrist. He tried to laugh, but his wife's condition prevented him. The nurse brought David in to see his parents, and Sanson's mood brightened significantly. Though she was too tired to feed him, she did hold him and bounce him on her knee a few times.

The nurse placed him in his chair and left the family to their meal. The baby seemed very content to watch his parents eat. He did this most mornings, his eyes darting back and forth between his parents as they talked, as if trying to familiarize himself with their faces and voices.

Snotzenexer noticed this strange action as well as many others his son did. The baby rarely cried. The few times he did was when he needed to be changed, or when someone did not get him out of his crib the minute he woke up, as if he was scared he might miss something.

David surprised his father in other ways too. As soon as he had been old enough to grasp things with his hands, he had been fascinated with a simple rattle. He would shake the thing nonstop for hours. Then once he had dropped it on the floor, and the much-abused plastic had broken, spilling small beads all over the floor. The baby had not cried, but merely looked down at the broken toy and littered beads.

Snotzenexer had thrown a fit that he had been given a toy of such poor quality and got a replacement for his son within the hour. David no longer seemed interested in the rattle, though. He shook the new toy a couple times, convincing himself that it was the same thing as before and then put it down, as if to say, "Okay, I know how this works now. Give me something else."

Snotzenexer sat at the breakfast table, waiting for his wife to regain some of her strength from the meal in front of her as he looked at his son. David returned the look, staring into his father's eyes. Snotzenexer could see intelligence in the hazel eyes of his son, and it looked as if the kid would burst into speech at any moment. Regardless of how smart David was, he did not have the tongue coordination to talk yet, to say nothing about the necessary teeth.

"How are things going?" Sanson asked suddenly, interrupting Snotzenexer's staring contest with their son. The question sounded odd coming from his wife. He should be asking that question of her. Sanson seemed to realize this and answered her own question. "The sessions haven't been hard, just long and tedious. My patience has been tried more than my stamina."

"I've been trying to clean a few things up and see what our friends are up to," Snotzenexer said. They had affectionately coined the rebels as their "friends." "I figure they will release a few more reports telling the galaxy how corrupt we are, waiting for us to turn this government into the old Empire. I can't yet figure what they plan to do then. They have no ships. I've made sure all of our shipyards are carefully guarded and ready for an attack. The only ships available to them are in the Varion system."

"Taken care of," Sanson interjected. "I sent a Star Destroyer and some troop carriers to get them. They should arrive at President Loyran's doorstep in about 36 hours. If he tries to tell me they're not ready, the ships will wait, weapons ready, until they are. I don't foresee them having to wait more than 12 hours. Loyran seems like a pushover to me."

Snotzenexer did not think so, but he had never met the man while his wife had. "I set up a trade embargo on Torenick, which should shut up those stupid reports in another day or two. I've taken care of the Torenick senator too, so he won't make a stink to the senate. Which reminds me, will you be able to appear before the senate tomorrow?"

"What for?"

"They've called a special session to discuss the reconfiguration of the military. They aren't too pleased with what happened yesterday. I think it would be best if you showed up to tell them how things are going to be."

Sanson nodded slowly, finishing her meal. "If they let me sleep tonight, I should be fine for the senate tomorrow."

Snotzenexer nodded. He looked at his son and saw that he too was nodding with a smile on his face as if he had understood everything that had just been said and approved. Snotzenexer rubbed his son's head and left the table.

* * *

Thomas Thorn had been one of the best students in his class at the Imperial Academy. His math and theoretical science scores had been way above those of his peers. When it had came to history and battle strategy, no one could touch him. He had easily been the best hope for future glory in his class. He had not, however, had the highest cumulative grade in his graduating class. He could not write or spell worth bantha droppings.

Thomas was sitting next to an editor less than half his age, trying to retain his sanity. "Okay," the young man said, "what are you trying to say here?"

Thomas' head had been in his hands, and he looked up now. "Say what where?"

"Here." The editor read what Thomas had written.

It sounded fine to Thomas, but the kid said something about a misplaced modifier or a dangling participle or one of a dozen other grammatical errors that were littered throughout the document. "Just make it right," Thomas said, not knowing how much more he could take.

"Uh, sir," an even younger clerk tapped the older man on the shoulder. Thomas looked up again. "There is a call for you?"

Thomas thought anything was better than this torture session and did not bother asking whom it was. He followed the clerk through the tangled mess of desks and chairs in the main pressroom and found a small, quiet office with a com unit. Thomas sat down in front of the unit and waited for the kid to leave. "This is Thomas," he said.

"Ghent here," the other end of the connection replied. "We've got a problem. Half an hour ago I just put the entire planet of Torenick under trade sanctions. All traffic in transit should arrive within two days, after which the planet won't see anymore shipments."

"The entire planet?!" Thomas had not expected that. A sanction against the TBC would even have been severe. Thomas had not expected any action out of the Republic President until they had released more incriminating evidence. If the senate ever found out about this . . . "I assume this came from Snotzenexer."

"I got the information second hand through the Trade Federation Administrator."

Thomas was silent for a while. He had given Ghent the list of pilots Han had supplied, and Thomas had planned on collecting those traders by having Ghent give all of them Torenick assignments. At this early time, however, it was likely that all the pilots were spread far apart. Thomas had planned on spending a week having Ghent orchestrate the ships closer to Torenick so they would be the logical choices for the numerous fake requests Ghent would submit for Torenick.

"We have another problem too," Ghent continued. "From the ship reports in the last fifteen minutes, it looks like six of the Trade Federation's siege ships have been taken off patrol and are heading to Torenick."

"There is a small ship repair facility on Torenick's moon," Thomas was thinking fast, "has it done business with the Trade Federation?"

Ghent punched up the information on his console. "Yes it has."

"Is it affected by the trade sanction?"

"Not anymore," Ghent said after a short pause and a flurry of keyboard activity.

"Okay, we need to get every single trader on our list to that repair facility, as soon as possible." This could still work. If Ghent could fake expedited shipments, it might not alarm the Trade Reps that their traders were being dragged halfway across the galaxy for a delivery to a simple moon based repa-

The door to the small office opened suddenly and Thomas turned around, caught in mid thought. Mara Jade walked in the room and paused at Thomas' concerned features. She had just landed on Torenick, bringing with her the crew from Yavin IV. Still in orbit were two carriers loaded down with the V-38's and two dozen anxious Jedi pilots. "What's wrong?"

"Snotzenexer is jumping the gun," Thomas replied. "He's shutting down this entire planet. We won't be able to get our group here fast enough."

Mara knew about their plan to incorporate the help of Federation traders. She pointed toward the com unit with a questioning look.

"Ghent's on the other line," Thomas answered the unspoken question.

"What kind of cargo do you guys need?" Ghent asked. "It will look very strange if these ships make the trip to Torenick empty. Their Trade Federation Reps will see right through it."

"We need everything," Thomas replied, wanting to take full advantage of the hundred or so free shipments that would come with the pilots and ships. He went on to rattle off every imaginable supply from med packs to power couplings. Thomas asked for food, power cells, clothes, droids, com units, and several dozen other common supplies.

"This will look awful suspicious, considering it's all going to a pretty small repair facility," Ghent pointed out.

"The individual Trade Federation Reps won't see all the shipments, just theirs," Thomas said. "I do suggest you go into hiding once these shipments start arriving. I'm sure your boss will be annoyed to find out that a certain repair station just outside his trade sanction is refusing payment on over 100 shipments."

Ghent was busy scrolling through the list of pilots he needed to send to Torenick. "You know," he said aloud, "some of these guys are several days away. I've got one ship here that is more than a week and a half away from you."

Mara stepped in front of Thomas. "Ghent, this is Mara."

"Long time n-"

"Zip it," she cut the slicer off. "I might be able to get you expedited hyperspace routes that could shorten most of the ships' travel time by at least half."

"Mara," Ghent said back, "the Trade Federation has its pilots using pretty risky routes as it is. I don't see how you could cut any time off them. Unless the 'Mighty Anakin' has more gifts than just program writing."

As if on cue, the young Jedi walked into the small office, followed by Ra'tok, Vince, and Bep. Though Ghent's final comment had been made sarcastically, that was exactly what Mara had in mind. "Anakin just walked in, Ghent," Mara spoke up. "Do you have access to standard routes each of these ships?"

"You are serious," Ghent replied flatly. Unseen to Mara, Ghent shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, just plug the Jedi miracle worker in and we'll get moving on it."

Mara took Anakin's arm, explaining what she needed him to do as she led him to the com unit. Thomas took this reprieve to talk with the new guests. "Vince, Bep," he said to the two pilots, "there is someone here you guys should meet."

The two friends looked at each other with puzzled faces, wondering whom it could be. Thomas led them on a short trip through the confusing network of desks and offices until they made it to the main war room. Vince and Bep saw Jon through the windows before Thomas had a chance to open the door. Though they could see their friend was sitting down, only after they burst into the room did they see he was sitting in a repulsar chair. Instead of a joyous reunion, Vince and Bep fired questions at their lame friend.

"What happened?"

"Where have you been?"

"I should ask the same question of you guys," Jon responded. "I was lying in a hospital bed for two months and was then wheeling myself around the lower levels of Iom. Not once did you guys show up for a rescue. What's wrong? You didn't really think a squadron of TIE's and a Star Destroyer could take me out by themselves, did you?"

Vince and Bep did not know if their friend was really mad at them or just playing. Jon kept the stern face up for a while longer, until his excitement at seeing his companions burst through. Thomas let the 185th get caught up, and turned to the other members of the room. Leia, Sandie, Eran, and Ferris were sitting around the large table.

Thomas looked at Ferris. "We need ships right away. You have eight Star Destroyers at your docks, right?"

Ferris nodded.

"What will it take to get them space worthy?"

"They can fly right now," Ferris said. "I've had my chief engineer make up stories to Sanson to keep them at my facility, but they are really fine. The only thing I need to fly them are the bridge codes."

"Bridge codes?" Leia asked.

Thomas had been an Imperial Captain. "Every Imperial capitol ship has a set of bridge codes to prevent theft," Thomas explained. "The codes can be used to enable, or disable the main bridge controls. I assume the bridge is now disabled. The ships can not use their weapons and can not enter hyperspace."

"Then they're worthless," Leia said.

"I don't think so," Thomas disagreed. "I have reason to believe Sanson will swing by any day now to pick those ships up. It seems Snotzenexer has turned up the timetable. Sanson will most likely send one of her lackeys to pick up the ships. They will need to bring the bridge codes with them."

"You want to steal the ships while the Imperials are there watching?" Ferris asked incredulously. "I can hire enough people to man the ships for you, but they won't be able to fight off armed and trained Imperials."

Thomas smiled. "I've got a plan."

Chapter 17 "Speedy Deliveries"

Cal Fotch opened his eyes. He was lying in his bed, unsure why he had awoken so suddenly. Being the Trade Federation Representative for Derran Speedsting had taught him to be alert, and he was slowly beginning to develop a sixth sense when something was amiss.

The rep's ears were alert to anything that could clue him into what was wrong while his eyes roamed the cabin. He looked through a small window out into space and saw the stars twinkling away as peaceful as ever. They were supposed to be in hyperspace for at least another six hours.

Cal was just buttoning his shirt as he stormed into the cockpit. Derran had expected the intrusion, and his rep's increasing alertness had begun to impress the long time pilot. "What's going on? Why have we dropped out of hyperspace?"

"Easy, Cal," Derran responded. "We are being redirected on an expedite."

"What?! But we are carrying important security equipment for the Castum Officer Training Academy. If we aren't going to deliver this to them, who will?"

"That's not my problem anymore," Derran said happily, glad this was flustering his rep just as much as he thought it would. The pilot downloaded the request to a data pad and handed the document to Cal.

The rep snatched the pad from Derran and quickly read through the summons. It said in no uncertain terms that Derran was to cease his route to Castum and head to Torenick with his current shipment along given coordinates. It mentioned briefly at the end that another trader would handle their scheduled route.

Cal checked the authorization codes and saw that everything was official. "This is very irregular," he said finally, tossing the pad into the copilot's chair next to Derran.

"Then complain to someone other than me," Derran said, having finished the course change. He slowly eased his ship back into hyperspace along the new coordinates. The seasoned pilot was a little hesitant about doing so, seeing that the coordinates he had been given brought him dangerously close to a bi-solar system that was famous for misguiding ships in hyperspace.

The fact that this was an expedite did nothing to make up his mind to follow the given coordinates. It was the fact that the time stamp on the summons was exactly two and a half minutes off standard galactic time that had finally swayed him. The time discrepancy had been Han and Derran's idea. It was the stamp that declared the summons to have come from their people.

Cal watched the stars revert to lines with Derran's last words ringing in his ears. "I think I will," he said and stormed off back to his room.

* * *

Han woke as Luke stirred him. It was night on the planet of Desrine, and Han had had a little too much to drink that evening. "What is it?"

"We have to leave now," Luke said quietly. "Thomas wants us on Torenick."

"But I have a pickup in the morning. The boys in the Trade Federation will know something is up if I don't make it."

"It's okay," Luke said, trying to pull his brother-in-law out of bed. "They've taken care of all that. We have a summons to go to Torenick, canceling our other shipment."

Han was slowly coming out of his hungover state. "The two and a half minute time differential?"

Luke nodded.

Han slung his legs over the edge of his bed and got up too quickly. He fell back to his bed. Han woke up twenty minutes later laying in one of the bunks on the Falcon. He got up more cautiously this time and stumbled his way down the corridors to the cockpit.

Luke was flying the Falcon with Chewie in the copilot's seat. "Where are we going?"

They were still within Desrine's atmosphere traveling east. Han was squinting into the fastest sunrise he had ever seen as the Falcon's speed made the natural occurrence appear in fast forward.

"We are picking up medical supplies from the other side of the planet," Luke responded. "You are going to have to sign your name in less than an hour, so I suggest you take a shower and try to reacquaint yourself with the land of the sober."

Han smirked at Luke's back. He would be fine. He turned sharply to walk back to his cabin. He would take that shower and would be more than ready to make the pickup. Han took a step forward and fell flat on his face.

Chewie barked a laugh at the sight of his friend lying on the floor. Luke blew a long sigh into his eyebrows. "Take over, Chewie. I'm going to get sleeping beauty back to his bed before he drowns in his own blood."

Han had smashed his own nose when he fell and there was a small red stain on the floor when Luke heaved his brother's limp form erect. After placing Han back in his bed for the second time in half an hour, he used the Force to ensure the next time Han came to, he would remain that way.

Luke left the small room and went over to the Falcon's communications unit. Luke had put a call in to Thomas shortly after he had received the summons to make sure he and Han did everything that was expected of them by both sides. Thomas had said it might not be a bad idea for Luke to call his contact in the Trade Federation to let them know about this unusual expedite.

Luke had argued that tipping off Snotzenexer as to their plan did not seem wise, but Thomas said that Snotzenexer would not hear about this for a long while. It would take at least a day for everyone at the Federation headquarters to realize what was going on, especially since Cog Fardin had laid them all off a week ago in favor of Ghent's automated system. By the time Snotzenexer figured out what was going on, it would be too late for him to do anything about it.

Thomas had also said that most of the Trade Federation Reps on the other ships they were summoning to Torenick would probably alert their contacts about what was happening, and might look odd if Luke did not. Luke dialed up his contact's frequency and went through the tedious confirmation sequence. It had been several days since the Jedi Master had talked to Cactun Gell and Luke had an odd feeling about the man. He refused to use a visual transmission, and he had an eerie quality to his voice as if it were being altered. Now Luke waited patiently for Cactun to pick up his line.

* * *

Snotzenexer saw the light blinking on his com unit. He had just finished an early dinner alone. Sanson was still tied up with the trial and would be until late in the night. Snotzenexer was in no mood to answer the call, but saw that it was Delan Fowlry, Han Solo's TFR. She was not due to call in for a couple more days, so something must be up.

Snotzenexer keyed in the acceptance to the call. Delan was not transmitting visual this time, but her voice came across clearly. "Cactun Gell? This is Delan Fowlry."

"Good day Ms. Fowlry, how's Solo treating you?" Snotzenexer had hoped the attractive Frolian female might try to get involved with Solo, but from his conversations with Delan, that had not happened.

"Solo is fine, sir. That is not why I've called."

Snotzenexer's ears picked up.

"We received a very unusual summons in the middle of the night. We were scheduled for a normal pickup in the morning, but that shipment was canceled and replaced with this one."

Snotzenexer sighed. He did not want to deal with this. He was not really a Trade Federation Contact, and Delan was the only rep that reported to him. He had hoped this call would be about something the rebels might be doing. Instead it looked like just an expedite. Still, Snotzenexer had to play his part so when the rebels did do something, Delan would call him.

"What is so unusual about it? Expedites are very common."

"It is unusual that we were chosen for this shipment. There must be closer ships than us. Besides, the shipment itself is odd. What would a ship repair facility need with a hospital month's worth of medical supplies?"

"Where is this repair facility?"

"The Torenick moon."

It was all Snotzenexer could do not to scream. Had he not just put a sanction on that planet? Delan did say they were headed to the moon. Maybe Snotzenexer had not been specific enough.

"That is odd," Snotzenexer responded, trying desperately to keep the concern out of his voice. "I will check it out and get back to you if it is anything that you need to worry about."

"Thank-you, sir." Delan signed off.

Snotzenexer got up from his desk and walked quickly out of his office. "A hospital month's worth of medical supplies," he muttered to himself, repeating what Delan had told him. "Maybe if they were preparing for a war." Snotzenexer doubled his pace.

Ten minutes later he was standing in front of Cog Fardin's door for the second time that day. When the door slid open, Snotzenexer knew something was seriously wrong. Cog looked like he was expecting a severe flogging, a punishment not uncommon on Ryloth, the Twi'lek home world.

"What's wrong," Snotzenexer said coldly.

"Sir," Cog's speech was so hurried it was barely understandable, "I can explain everything. You see, the Torenick moon is not actually part of the planet and I had no idea that the few businesses it contains fall outside of the planetary code. In fact, there isn't even a code for the moon. I can set one up right now and put the sanction over it as soo-"

The Twi'lek continued to talk as Snotzenexer contemplated the information. There was obviously more expedites headed toward the moon than just Solo's. "How many shipments are head to the moon?" Snotzenexer asked slowly.

Cog obviously did not want to answer that question. "One hundred thirty-six. I can fix this though. I can override their expedites with a ne-"

Cog continued talking as Snotzenexer casually reached his hand up to his shoulder com button. "Security," he said into the device, "report to my position at once."

"-can have all those pilots put on probation and the moon guarded by siege ships and then-"

"Where did the summons come from?" Snotzenexer asked, doubting that the moon could have ordered 136 shipments by itself.

"They appear to have come from the moon, though that can't be right, can it. It had to have been done from the inside, but the only person who could have done that was Quintill, and I can't find him." Cog was talking more to himself than anyone else now. "If he did this, he must have access codes he didn't tell me about. All I need to do is break those codes and get in the system to fix what he did. But I don't understand the system like he does. It might take me weeks just to figure out what he did. But I can do it, I know I can. I'll just hire-"

Two guards walked in behind Snotzenexer. "Kill him," Snotzenexer said unemotionally.

Cog somehow picked up the two terminal words amidst his constant stream of blabbering. "No," he said at the guards who were drawing their weapons. They had received an order from their admiral and this flustered Twi'lek wasn't going to slow them in the slightest. "I can fix it. I really can. Please! President Sno-"

Two shots skimmed over the tall desk and flipped Cog backward out of his chair. Neither of the skilled guards needed to check to see if their aim had been true, and they both holstered their weapons, remaining behind their leader.

Snotzenexer had heard a little of what the Twi'lek had said before his guards had fired. If this had been done from the inside, then the rebels were too deeply rooted into his Trade Federation to fix it in the short time he had before things began to happen. The idea of tearing down the Federation, an organization that had taken over six months to reach maturity, did not seem a pleasurable proposal to Snotzenexer.

After the special senate hearing tomorrow, Snotzenexer would have his wife send plenty of firepower to remove any threat the collection of ships at the Torenick moon might cause. Right now, there was little Snotzenexer could do. The rebels had won this hand, but Snotzenexer knew there would be several more. He turned to leave the room, and the guards followed without comment.

* * *

Ferris Loyran and Lando Calrissian stepped away from the VCY President's personal ship and approached the small building that housed the offices for Mij's Ship Repair. The small, but clean, repair facility located on Torenick's only moon was impressive for its size. Lando had been to many such facilities in the old days and was a good judge of them.

Ferris led the way into the building and spoke briefly with the receptionist. The two men did not think they would need an appointment to see the owner of the facility, and they had been right. The fact that Ferris told the young lady behind the front desk who he was did not hurt them either. Less than 60 seconds later, both men were sitting in Mij's office.

Lando had decided to come with Mara to Torenick when she had left the Academy, thinking his old friends were going to need a little help. After seeing how well organized Thomas was with so little to work with, Lando decided he would probably do more watching and admiring than actual helping. This was the case now.

Mij Tallentry was an overweight man several years older than either of his two guests. Lando guessed he was near to retirement, and that could only help in their efforts.

"Good Morning Mij," Ferris started, having no fear in calling the man by his first name. If he posted his name in flashing lights in front of his business, that was probably how he wanted to be called. "I am Ferris Loyran President of the Varion Construction Yards."

It was obvious that Mij was trying to act unimpressed, though he was far from it. "Yes, my secretary told me as much. What can I do for you two gentleman?"

Lando did not mind being neglected. He was there to watch, really. Ferris had asked him to go along because of his knowledge with small businesses like this one, but Lando had told him everything he needed to know before they got there. Ferris was rich enough that money no longer concerned him and he ran his business to perfection out of pride. Lando told him that for men like Mij credits still reigned supreme.

"I have a business proposal for you," Ferris said. "I would like to purchase your facility."

Mij was doing a poor job of hiding his awe at the prestige of his unannounced guest to begin with, and now he looked ridiculous as he tried to hide his shock. "You wish to what?"

"I would like to buy this entire facility. Name your price."

At the mention of "price" Mij quickly gathered his wits about him. "Ten million," he said.

Lando was sitting next to Ferris across the desk from Mij. The old gambler casually tapped the back leg of Ferris' chair three times, telling the president that the price was easily three times what the repair shop was worth.

"Twenty million," Ferris countered, "and I get to keep all the personnel and equipment and you leave within the hour."

Well before an hour was up, Mij Tallentry was in his ship flying back to Torenick with a story to tell his grandchildren and a bank account to keep them from working for the rest of their lives. Ferris and Lando watched the former owner's ship leave from the main lobby.

"Well," the receptionist really did not know what to say, "what happens next?"

"We are going to be receiving quite a few guests before the day is out," Ferris replied. "How many ships can this place facilitate at once?"

"About two dozen," the woman said.

Ferris rolled his eyes. "I would like you to call up the construction company that does all your building work and its two closest competitors. Offer them twice their usual fees if they can greatly expand your hangar space by the end of the day."

Ferris knew that his own crew back in the Varion system could quadruple the size of this facility within six hours. He just hoped the local construction business on Torenick were up to the task also.

Lando was outside directing the landing and unloading of the two carriers that had come from Yavin IV. He was also trying to explain to all of the techs working around the place that their current jobs, no matter how important would have to be put aside for now. Aside from Thomas and Leia, who had stayed back with Borrel to put the finishing touches on the news release they were preparing, the entire rebel team was assembling on the moon.

The first Trade Federation ship to arrive at Mij's Ship Repair was a Nubian chill freighter. Lando recognized the ship as Derran Speedsting's almost immediately. Han had told him that their old associate was part of this rebellion but it took Derran's ship landing on Torenick's moon before Lando would believe it.

Cal Fotch was the first person out of the ship and Lando intercepted him quickly. "Are you the owner of this place?" Cal asked impatiently as if he had been made to wait for hours.

"I work for him, yes," Lando responded, recognizing this man as Derran's rep. "May I see the cargo?"

"What do you need security equipment for on a barren moon like this anyway?"

Lando looked around at the landscape. The moon had no atmosphere and greatly reminded him of his asteroid mining facility. The huge oxygen shield that surround the small business was even now being expanded by the three construction companies that had arrived and were hard at work. Those not working on the oxygen shield were busy making sure this place had more hangars than a clothing store.

"You'd be surprised," Lando said. "The cargo please." He gestured to the back of the ship.

Cal grunted in frustration at his inability to get a straight answer from anyone. He had called his Federation contact but he did not know what was going on either. Cal led Lando around to the back of the ship and opened the outer cargo hatch. Lando walked up the ramp before it was fully lowered and began rooting through the shipment. Lando spotted a particular crate and went over to open it.

"Excuse me, sir," Cal said sternly. "It against Federation protocol to examine a shipment before it has been unloaded. Technically this equipment still belongs to the Federation, and as its representative, I demand payment in full before you handle the merchandise."

Lando produced a set of security cuffs from the crate he had opened and walked back to Cal, standing at the bottom of the ramp outside the ship. "I'm sorry," Lando said, hiding the cuffs in a curled hand, "but there won't be any payment."

"What are you talking about?!" Cal shouted.

"Yes, please tell me," Derran said from behind the Federation rep.

Cal spun to look at his trader, turning his back to Lando. Lando took the opportunity to close the small gap between him and the rep and slap the cuffs on him. Cal was terribly confused now. He tried to spin back around to see why this man had just cuffed his wrists behind his back, but Lando secured his shoulders.

Lando and Derran exchanged a silent greeting as the trader approached his rep. "May I?" Derran asked.

Lando, still standing on the ramp, was a good head taller than the rep standing on the moon's surface. He looked at Derran and nodded.

"What is going on here?" Cal asked. "Do you know this man? I want an explanation?"

Derran explanation came as a hard right across Cal's jaw. The trader had waited a long time to release his frustration at his snobby rep and held little back. Cal went limp immediately, and Lando was quick to catch him before he fell hard on the ramp. Lando spotted Ra'tok a dozen meters away, watching the action with interest, and he signaled the Defel over to the ship.

Ra'tok gladly took the unconscious Federation rep off Lando's hands and returned Derran's startled look. "Greetings," the alien said and then walked away before Derran could reply.

"You keep strange company, Calrissian."

"I go with what works."

The two men had not really been close in their former lives, but they had respected each other and exchanged firm handshakes now. "So what did I join up with?" Derran asked looking around at the furious activity that filled the small repair facility. "You guys setting up a little Federation strike force? Are you going to engage in piracy, or just boycott everything about the Federation?"

Lando looked at Derran closely. "How much did Han tell you?"

Derran took on a confident look, thinking Lando's confusion to be a result of him knowing more than he should. Lando was actually concerned of the opposite. He wondered if Derran knew what he was really getting into. "Han told me how Snotzenexer has compiled everything into the Trade Federation. He told me how Snotzenexer could strangle any planet he wanted to and that gave him more power than the Emperor ever had."

Lando was quiet for a while. Then he told him - everything. The two men stood motionless in front of Derran's ship for twenty minutes while Lando spoke. "Well," Derran said finally, clearing his throat nervously, "I've joined a suicide team."

"We won't loose," Lando said with ten times more confidence than he actually felt. "We can't loose. This is for the preservation of the entire galactic structure. Are you still in?"

"You'll never see me running from a fight, Calrissian," Derran replied, almost insulted, "especially when I'm on the right side. However, I can't speak for the others who will be arriving shortly. While the majority of them are idealistic and would agree that Snotzenexer is wrong, they aren't all fighters and might not have the stomach for it."

Lando nodded, expecting as much. He had heard the stories of how Han had run out on the rebellion 30 years ago when he realized the full scope of what they were trying to do. If one of the original rebellion's most valuable assets had reacted that way, he would not be able to blame anyone else for the same reaction. Han had, of course, changed his mind before it was too late, but Lando could not hope for that if several traders left when they learned the truth.

"Instead of worrying about the future," Derran interrupted Lando's thoughts, "let's live in the present, and you can show me what assets we have. I see that you have several Imperial fighters over there." Derran was looking off to the area where the V-38's were being serviced. The Jedi had been rough with them during the training runs and they needed repairs.

"Those are special, too," Lando said. He explained what the ships were as the two men walked in that direction.

Derran absorbed the information eagerly, surprised at the existence of such a weapon. The trader was distracted, though, when they passed Lando's ship. Derran looked at the Skipray Blastboat with a warped sense of respect. Lando suddenly remembered that he had used this ship to make a pirate hit on Derran a week ago. Surely the Needle Hole Nebula was too dense for Derran to pick up any of the ship's unique markings.

"Good ship," Derran finally said, though his voice was distant as if remembering the incident. "Good pirate ship."

"It was too," Lando said. "I picked it up at a Republic Military auction. They stripped it down before they sold it, but I was able to juice it back up."

Derran accepted Lando's explanation and kept moving toward the V-38's. "I see you've done some extra modifications yourself," Derran said, when he got close enough to see the turbo laser barrels sticking out of the twin torpedo tubes, "unless they came like that." Lando could tell from his friend's voice that he did not believe the Empire capable of such a modification.

"No," Lando assured him. "We have a rather talented engineer who designed that modification."

Derran walked right up to a ship to see it for himself. "It looks like you have some sort of energy containment field here to replace those clumsy Imperial batteries. Ah," he said tracing the system on the ship, "it's drawn out of containment with the use of the hyperspace accelerator, though an energy adapter, and depositing it into the turbo focuser and through the barrel."

Derran looked up from his examination. "It can only fire about four times, though, before the energy is used up. It might be smaller than the batteries, but not nearly as effective."

"Actually," Lando said, "the guy who designed them says they can fire up to 50 times each before needing to be recharged."

"Impossible," Derran refuted, turning back to look at the ship. "That would have to be a very special energy containment device."

"It's an anti-matter flywheel," Lando said and instantly wished he had not.

"Anti-matter," Derran said quietly. "If that's the case, then . . ." He looked more closely at the energy adapter he had brushed over earlier, recognizing the matter to anti-matter adapter for what it was. His head popped up and he looked at the rest of the fighters. Twenty-four fighter, two MAM adapters per fighter. That makes 48 MAM adapters. His eyes went back to the Skipray Blastboat and then to Lando.

Lando was backing up slowly, realizing the game was up. He did not know if Derran was going to be mad, but if he was, Lando was not going to blame him.

"You!" Derran started, walking toward Lando. "You are going to pay for the repairs to my ship. And you-" Derran paused, realizing there had not been any major damage done to his ship. He also realized that if it had not been for that pirate attack, he would have never contacted Han, and he would not be on this moon right now with over a hundred more traders on the way. "You clever little son of a Hut. Did you orchestrate that?"

Lando relaxed a little. He was not sure if all was forgiven, but it did look like Derran was going to stay. "No," Lando replied, "I was a puppet just like you." This got a laugh from the trader. "The man who orchestrated that little escapade and this entire rebellion is below on the planet, but he should be coming up after a while."

"Can't wait to meet him," Derran said with a smile. "Maybe he will pay for my ship." The two men laughed and walked toward the main office building in search of a meal.

* * *

Sanson was dead tired when she finally made it back to her quarters. Snotzenexer was waiting for her, reading a novel. She almost laughed out loud at him. How could he be so calm right now? Snotzenexer put the bookpad down when his wife entered. His smile was very disarming. "And how was your day?"

Sanson could hear the sarcasm laced through the greeting and did not bother with a verbal response, though the comment had the desired affect. Sanson began to relax. Her husband was still in control and everything would be fine.

"We need to get more ships to Torenick," Snotzenexer said, suddenly turning back to business.

Sanson sighed. She had really hoped her husband's calm demeanor meant he was not going to discuss business before bed. "How many?" she asked.

"Just a couple," Snotzenexer said as if it was not a big deal and his wife just had Star Destroyers lying around with nothing to do. "Maybe three."

Sanson nodded and walked back out of the bedroom. She returned a few minutes later. "Two and two Dreadnoughts will be there shortly after the siege ships you sent. Anything else?"

Snotzenexer smiled mischievously at his wife. "Yes. I order you to forget about everything and just come to bed."

"And if I refuse?" she asked with a straight face.

"I will have to arrest you and try you for treason."

Sanson's tough facade fell away. "Please, no more trials."

"Then you better come to bed."

Snotzenexer won, and Sanson flipped off the lights before crossing the room to the large bed. He always won.

* * *

Ships began arriving about once every 10 minutes for 24 hours after Derran Speedsting's arrival. The small Torenick moon was quickly getting very crowded. With the ships came several things. There were large shipments of food, which were immediately prepared by the expensive catering service that had been hired and served to the hundreds of people on the moon. Several ships brought valuable technical supplies, and they were used to stock the quickly expanding repair shop.

Each ship also came with a very disgruntled Trade Federation Representative. Some of the early reps had not gone into captivity quietly, and it had been necessary to place Ra'tok in charge of the arrests. None of the reps gave the rebels any trouble after that.

Several of the traders enjoyed the spectacle of arresting the reps and joined in the fun. Mara thought to put a stop to it, not wishing the reps to be harmed in any way, but she saw that Ra'tok understood her concerns and often went out of his way to go easy on the prisoners. Also Mara realized that the more animosity these trader developed toward the Trade Federation the easier it would be for them to accept the truth about Snotzenexer.

So far only Derran Speedsting knew the truth. The rest of the men merely thought they were going on strike. There was some talk of starting their own Trade Organization with all the money going to the traders without a massive Federation to support. Mara knew that if they won - they had to win! - life in the galaxy would have to go on, and this new trade organization might prove necessary.

Luke and Han were one of the last ships to land on the moon. Everyone recognized the Falcon as soon as it dropped out of hyperspace, still several minutes from the moon. A cheer rose up from the crowd when the Falcon was landing. Mara almost cringed at the hero worship they were giving the old smuggler. Then she started to listen to what the men were saying. There were at least 60 traders surrounding the landing pad the Falcon was aimed at, yet she could pick out a few phrases.

"Wait till Delan gets a loud of Ra'tok!"

"He'll teach that Fowlry wench a thing or two!"

"I'd like to see her try to get rough with him!"

Mara only then remembered that Luke had been masquerading as a woman, a highly attractive Frolian named Delan Fowlry. Mara also knew that it was a small enough galaxy that half of these men had probably run into Han and Luke, and half of them had probably made an advance on the Jedi Master. Mara could imagine what Luke's responses had been like.

The landing pad cleared itself of people enough for Han to land his ship, and then the people closed in again. Mara's new hunch that they were waiting for Delan Fowlry and not Han himself was proven correct when he and Chewie strolled out of the ship to only moderate applause. Luke was right behind the pair, and the crowd gave slightly more of a reception. Luke was supposed to be exiled on Hoth, and the few in the crowd who knew this gave the Jedi Master some respect for escaping.

The crowd became very restless when Delan Fowlry did not make an appearance. Han, Chewie, and Luke made their way to Mara rather easily. "What are they waiting for?"

Mara pointed to Ra'tok. "My friend over there has been putting on a show for these guys, arresting TFR's. Apparently you are one of their least favorites," she said to Luke.

"Ah," Luke replied, realizing the situation perfectly.

The Jedi Master made his way back through the crowd. The men around him were shouting to Ra'tok. "Go in and get her, Defel." "She'll be easy to spot. She's got an ego the size of this moon."

Luke stepped onto the sloped ramp of the Falcon. A few men thought the Jedi Master was going in after the rep and they cheered him on. Instead Luke turned around and was suddenly Delan Fowlry. The crowd was deathly silent. Luke smiled at the reaction. He went a little further and picked out a few members of the crowd he recognized from bar encounters and proceeded to make fun of them.

At first the crowd was embarrassed. They were embarrassed that they had yelled for the arrest of the Jedi Master; they were embarrassed that they had thought Luke to be a woman; but most of all, they were embarrassed that most of them had tried to hit on him.

After embarrassment, a few people became angry, but that quickly switched to jealousy. Why had Han been able to get by without having to deal with a real TFR? That was not fair! Of course, then they all realized that Han had cheated the Trade Federation and gotten away with it, and the hero worship Mara had been afraid of came in full.

Han soaked it up for a while, but another ship was landing, and the crowd, led by Ra'tok, went over to investigate. "How much do they know?" he asked Mara once the last of the men were out of earshot.

"Very little," Mara replied. "All they think is that they are going on strike. Your friend Speedsting knows the truth and is estimating between a 10 and 20 percent fallout once we tell them what they are really here for.

Han watched as the TFR on the next ship, a brute of a man, was nearly reduced to tears as Ra'tok intimidated him into submission. The crowd loved it. "I doubt five ships abandon us," Han said.

"I hope you're right," Mara replied.

"When do we tell them?" Han asked.

"When they all get here. We want to hit them all at once so no rumors can get started. So far it has been an almost party atmosphere and no one has started any rumors past starting a new trade organization. There are only two more summoned ships due, though over a dozen ships have shown up without a summons. Apparently word travels fast among you traders. Since Anakin did not calculate their routes, they might be arriving for several days."

Mara watched as one of the two ships she mentioned left hyperspace, and the crowd moved to intercept. "Of course we have nothing to tell them until Thomas shows up. He and Leia are down on the planet putting the finishing touches on the report. I understand that they have most of it on holo-film now. We are going to present it to the men and fill in what we don't have on film. It should be pretty convincing."

"Who's going to lead the presentation?" Han asked.

"Thomas, Derran, and I," Mara responded. "We thought it best to hit them with unbiased people. Very few people know what I've done for the cause, and a few of the traders asked me how Karrde was doing. I think they still think I'm one of them."

Han nodded. He turned his attention to the planet below, remembering that he had not seen his wife in over a month. In fact, he had not seen any of his family in a long time. Anakin was on the moon somewhere, and Jacen and Jaina were - well, he had no idea where they were. He had asked Luke several times to see if he could find them in Force, but each time the Jedi Master had been unable to find the twins. Han hoped they were okay.

For the past few seconds, Han's eyes had been instinctively following a small dot moving against the backdrop of the planet. Now that his private thoughts were over, he recognized the dot as an approaching ship. When trying to communicate with Leia over the past two dozen years, Han had not learned to use the Force to reach out to her, but he had learned the technique to open his own mind so Leia could more easily pick it out of a crowd. Han did this now, and he imagined he could see the small ship accelerate toward the moon when Leia made contact with him.

"Here they come," Han said, drawing Mara away from the next TFR arrest.

Mara looked at the small spot moving toward the moon, still almost indecipherable as a ship. "Are you sure that's them?"

"Trust me. I'm married to someone on that ship, and if it's not Leia then I've been lying to my kids about their real mother for years."

Mara bowed slightly in mock respect to Han's supposed Force skills and the pair moved off to a much smaller landing pad to wait for the leaders of their new rebellion. It took another ten minutes for the small TBC shuttle to land on the moon, and Han's impatience grew by the second. Finally the ship landed, and Leia burst out of the craft to great her husband. They kissed and spun each other around while Mara and Thomas exchanged a much more restrained greeting.

"Do you have everything?" Mara asked.

Thomas nodded and held up a small holo-cube. "It's all here. I brought a large holo-projector with me, too. I figured this small repair facility would be inadequately repaired for our media presentation. It's a pretty big device, and we might need a loadlifter to-"

Mara shook her head. Thomas was not used to working with Jedi yet. "Luke!" she called over her shoulder. "Come over here. We need you to flex your Jedi muscles for us."

While Luke moved the holo-projector, Mara turned her attention to the last summoned ship as it touched down smoothly. "Now we need to get everyone assembled into one of the new buildings."

Two hours later there was deathly silence among the crowd of over two hundred. One hundred thirty-six ships had been summoned and fifteen had come on their own. Many of them had copilots, and some had three to work the ship. There were 127 men, 59 women, and 43 aliens, not including the core group of rebels.

Thomas turned off the holo-projector and stood on the main platform with Mara and Derran. The presentation had been a shortened version of what would be released to the galactic public in a few hours. It did not elaborate on each issue, but neither did it spare the often gory details.

Very few, if any, of the people present had been directly affected by Snotzenexer's acts. The usual thoughts of an independent mind said that they were not concerned with other people's troubles as long as they did not interfere with their own life. The thought patterns of someone in a group were much different. The studies on group psychology show that when in a group, normal moral or rational barriers were much more easily torn down. It is much easier to join in an activity when everyone around you was doing it to and you would not stick out as much.

Mara sincerely doubted that more than a handful of people, if that, would have joined their cause if they had been approached individually. But now, after a few shouts of "I'm in," and "Let's get him," the entire room was shouting to go to war against Snotzenexer.

Mara smiled and turned Thomas. "We'll win."

"We have to," he replied as usual.

Chapter 18 "Senate Adjurned"

Farion Plebotius the chief engineer at the VCY watched as the Star Destroyer dropped out of hyperspace in front of him. A large troop transport fell into real space right behind the war ship, and Farion swallowed hard, hoping whoever had thrown this plan together knew what they were doing.

Farion had received word barely an hour ago that Sanson was sending a Commander Tren to pick up her remaining ships and they better be ready. Farion was on the bridge of one of the eight Star Destroyers still in the care of the VCY. Commander Tren wasted very little time raising Farion on the com.

"This is Commander Tren of the Republic Navy. I'm looking for Chief Engineer Plebotius."

"This is Farion Plebotius," Farion responded, his voice only a little shaky.

"Are the ships ready for the trip back to Coruscant?"

"Yes," Farion croaked.

"Good. I will be sending troops to take charge of these ships. You will need to use tractor beams to guide them in, and then they will relieve your men of duty."

"Understood." Farion knew this conversation could be heard by the other seven ships and did not bother relaying the command. The engineer watched as the troop transport ship fired off eight different capsules. Each capsule was over 100 meters in length and could hold up to 300 troops. They had no real engines and relied on the mothership's projection and the receiving ship's tractor beams for guidance.

It would have been the easiest thing in the galaxy to just blow apart each of the shieldless capsules and then turn eight Star Destroyers on Commander Tren's one. The problem in that line of reasoning was that each of the eight ships had no weapon capabilities until the bridge codes were reinserted. If not for that, Ferris Loyran, the VCY President, would have stolen the ships a long time ago.

Farion locked his ship's tractor beam onto one of the eight troop capsules and made sure his men would guide it into the main hangar at the bottom of the ship. Farion thought through his part of this plan one last time, and then donned a radiation helmet. "This better work," he said to himself.

The large capsule was drawn smoothly into the large hangar of the massive Star Destroyer. Once fully inside the ship, the hangar doors closed beneath the capsule and the tractor beam gently lowered the transport to the closed hatch. The lieutenant in charge of the transport was quick to open the door and exit the ship. Once he looked around the large hangar, he was much quicker to hop back inside the capsule and reseal the door.

Everyone in the hangar wore radiation suites and was hauling around large, clearly labeled barrels of toxic waste. Farion saw the lieutenant's reaction from a distance as he walked toward the capsule and smiled. Once Farion reached the door to the capsule, he heard the frightened lieutenant speak through a com unit on the outside of the transport.

"Who are you?"

"I'm the chief engineer, Farion Pleb-"

"What's going on here?! I was told that this ship is ready to go. What are those men hauling around?"

They were hauling around barrels of water, but Farion was not about to tell this lieutenant that. "We had a little problem on these ships," Farion started his lie. "We tried to get by the bridge lockout to test the hyperspace engines directly and suffered a massive reactor leak. Oh, we fixed everything up nice," Farion added, seeing the lieutenant's worried face, "but we still need to vent the entire engine compartment and most of the ship to remove the residual radiation. As you can see, we've managed to collect all the solid waste, but there is still a lot of airborne radiation we need to get rid of."

"Well what's keeping you?!"

"Sir," Farion explained slowly, "the only way we can vent the hyperspace engine compartment is to enter hyperspace." This was the first time Farion was being completely honest with the lieutenant.

"You need the codes," the lieutenant could see where this was leading. "I am not authorized to give you or anyone else the codes. I have direct instructions from Admiral Sanson herself to administer the bridge codes only after my crew has taken control of this ship."

"Be my guest," Farion replied. "I'm afraid we don't have any extra radiation suits, but there are only a few really bad sections left on the ship. The bridge is pretty clean."

The lieutenant slowly reopened the door to the transport and instructed the rest of his men to stay inside. The man had obviously reduced the level of his breathing, as if this would somehow keep the radiation from penetrating the rest of his body.

"You see," Farion said when the lieutenant didn't fall over dead, "it's not that bad in here. The suits are more for a precautionary measure than anything else." Farion led the still tentative lieutenant toward the hangar exit and to the main section of the ship.

A very small medical station was located right next to the door out of the hangar to tend to any injuries suffered by men working the ships in the hangar. The lieutenant saw a long bag lying on a table just outside of the medical station. Walking past the table, the lieutenant looked at the half-opened bag. In it, there was man, obviously dead. His skin had been charred black and very vicious volcano-like sores on his skin littered his face and chest. His mouth was half opened and it looked like his teeth had been turned to powder.

Farion let the lieutenant soak in the sight before he reacted to it. "Oh my! I'm sorry sir!" The engineer walked quickly over to the body bag and zipped it up. "I'm sorry about that, sir. You shouldn't have had to see that."

"Wh-wh-what h-happened t-t-to him?" the lieutenant was barely able to ask.

"Radiation accident, I'm afraid. He got a little tear in his suit without noticing."

"And th-this happened d-during the accident?"

"No. This happened about two hours ago. He wandered too near the engine compartment. Like I said some of the ship is still heavily cont-"

The lieutenant moved faster than Farion had ever seen anyone move before. Farion had not even completed the word "contaminated," and the lieutenant was back in his transport with the door closed. The lieutenant knew the layout of an Imperial Star Destroyer very well. It was impossible to get to the bridge without going very near the engine compartment.

Farion walked slowly back over to the capsule. "Sir, if we are to fix this problem, we are going to need the bridge codes."

"H-how long will this v-venting take?" he was desperately trying to keep the shake out of his voice.

"Only a few minutes, I promise. We'll be back before you realize were gone. We just want to do the venting outside the Varion system. You know, it's not nice to dirty your own backyard."

The door to the transport opened quickly and then closed. Farion barely registered the transaction, but looked down at his gloved hand and saw that he now held a small data chip. "You and your men might feel safer off the main ship," Farion said. "If we were to have another accident I don't think your hull would protect you very much." Farion rapped his knuckles on the leadless durasteel for emphasis.

The lieutenant then came to realize that his earlier antics of shallow breathing and seeking sanctuary in his transport were doing very little to repel any type of dangerous radiation. "A sound suggestion," the lieutenant replied. "You may put us off while you conduct your venting operation."

The lieutenant could not get off the ship fast enough, and Farion motioned to the hangar technician to place the capsule back in space. Farion turned his back on the operation and walked out of the hangar with the data chip in hand. As he walked past the body bag, he unzipped the bag a little so the man inside could breath a little easier. The make-up artists from the TBC had done a marvelous job on the man.

When Farion got to the bridge of his ship, he saw that the rest of the Star Destroyers had already rejected their troop capsules. Apparently, his lieutenant had been the hardest to convince. It was a great plan. Farion slipped the data chip into the appropriate slot in the commander's chair and transmitted the go signal on a private channel to the rest of his ships.

From the troop capsule, the Imperial Lieutenant watched the eight ships blast off into hyperspace. Disastrous thoughts began to creep into his mind, but he tried desperately to dismiss them. "They'll be back," he told himself. "After all, they still haven't been paid." He REALLY hoped they would be back, or else he would be floating in space somewhere over Coruscant, wishing for death by radiation when Sanson found out. "But if you don't come back," he found himself saying quietly, "kill her for me, please."

* * *

Snotzenexer watched the holo broadcast with a very sick feeling in his gut. Asteroids were flying widely at him in a dizzying array of special effects. The scene change was dramatic as an asteroid spun out of nowhere and detonated the camera location. The new scene was one of the ravished planets, Denor, Snotzenexer thought. If the president's memory was accurate, and it almost always was, these were the same scenes used earlier in the week in the documentary to show how he had poured billions of his own credits into the rescue efforts.

Now the scene changed to a picture of a lone asteroid. Digital effects were used to break a very small portion of the asteroid off of the whole and explode it in the corner of the projection. Symbols and numbers scrolled down from that corner identifying the mineral makeup of the rocks that destroyed the Denorid system. The projection then split in two and a Varion asteroid was shown in the second half. A small portion of that asteroid was also enlarged to the corner of the screen, and its composition fell beneath it. Both asteroids then disappeared and the compositions were enlarged and brought to the center of the screen, so even the blind viewers could see they were identical.

There was a voice explaining everything in the background, and Snotzenexer thought that the TBC had gone so far has to employ the same guy that had done all the narrating for his documentary. The next visual aid showed what the mineral composition of a typical Danzig asteroid looked like. It, of course, looked nothing like a Varion asteroid.

"But why?" the narrator asked. It had been a question that he had asked his engrossed audience at least a dozen times before. The broadcast had started with Snotzenexer's attack on the Academy almost a year ago when he was serving under Talon and Thrawn. It had explained how he had taken over the Varion Imperial Bank. It had shown how he had destroyed the Porylen Entertainment Network after he had cashed in on the stock market. The broadcast would continue to explain how Snotzenexer had destroyed his own bank on Iom. After each accusation the narrator would ask "why?"

In each case the answer was the same. "Imperials know of only one way to exist: kill and destroy until you are in control. Then when you are in control, kill and destroy to stay there."

Snotzenexer knew that this broadcast would be the end of him. He might be able to put off any action by the senate for a while until they gathered the necessary information to remove him. In the meantime he needed to gather his three power bases together: banking, trading, and the military. He had just killed his trade advisor. The Coruscant Galactic Bank was putting the merger on hold until the VIB mess that Sandie Hollins had created could be cleaned up. And the bulk of the military was immobile for at least another day until the changes the scrimmage had inspired were put into effect.

None of these things should have been a problem if the stupid rebels had not put out this broadcast. Snotzenexer had planned on a few more tame releases before the big one hit. By that time, he would have completed the merger with the CGB, would have control of the military, and would have a replacement for Cog Fardin. Killing the Twi'lek had not been part of the plan, but replacing him had been.

Sanson walked into the room looking radiant. She had already seen the broadcast. Snotzenexer was watching it for the second time. It was the only thing showing on any TBC owned network. Sanson had ignored it and went to get ready for the special senate session, which would be very special now.

"How much do you think they will believe?" Sanson asked, zipping up the back of her gown as far as she could reach.

Snotzenexer got up and obliged his wife. "Oh, they will believe everything they can accept. Right now I don't think they can accept the fact that they unanimously elected a mass murderer to office and placed his ruthless wife in charge of their entire military. I'll give them a day to come to grips with that and then we will be forced to make a move."

"Will that be a problem?" Sanson asked slipping her feet into a pair of delicate heels. She was taking this all very well.

"We have already made our moves. The rebels will be wiped out by the end of the day and all the rebellious traders with them. I looked at the list of traders and it will take most of them a day or two to make it to Torenick. They should have been more secretive until they had the whole group together.

"You have the military being overhauled with an Imperial core as we speak, and that should be done by the end of the day. After the session I will meet with the CGB board and insist that they move forward with the merger. I have my ways."

"Kind of puts a new meaning on the phrase 'hostile takeover,'" Sanson joked, getting a laugh from her husband.

In reality, the two Imperials were calmer now than they had been in a long time. Seven months ago, they had decided to go straight. Though the idea went against their basic Imperial principals, it had made the most sense at the time. Now the rebels had forced their hand and wanted to play rough. Snotzenexer and Sanson could do that - it had been their original plan from the beginning anyway. Now they were calm because the anxiety of seeing which way it was going to go was over.

The Senate Chambers Building was a short trip from the palace, and Snotzenexer and Sanson entered the restricted presidential section without any comments from the guards on duty. These guards were some of the very few that Snotzenexer had not been able to replace with his own people. Whether they had seen the TCB broadcast or not, they gave no resistance or disrespect to the ruling family as they entered the presidential quarters at the base of the huge senate chamber.

Sanson and Snotzenexer took the open lift up to the central senate box and activated the hovercraft. The largest of all the senate boxes slowly floated up the central axis of the huge cylindrical chamber and stopped halfway. Snotzenexer watched as the numerous boxes that littered the wall of the chamber slowly filled with senators, secretaries, and aids.

The president tried to catch the eye of several senators but none of them returned his looks. They had all seen the broadcast. TBC had released the two hour long report during the dead of night, Coruscant time, but every planet had their own time, and many of the senators received calls from their home planet regarding the report.

The only planned legislation was to be the realignment of the military, though the prelegislation topics would still be discussed as usual. Snotzenexer had a pretty good idea what they would cover during that time. It was written code that all prelegislation discussion should take no longer than one hour and Snotzenexer was pretty sure he could deflect all accusations for that length of time. After all, all they had to go on were reports from a network several sectors away.

Senator Evlyn Cariasco, the chair of the investigation committee held in her hands the final report from her team on Xentin. It stated that the results of their investigation prove Narion Loits, a representative of the VIB was responsible for the destruction on Xentin. There were at least seven different lines of reasoning used to arrive at this conclusion, all of which were very valid by themselves.

The female senator was just now entering her senate box. She had arranged with several of the more prominent senators to allow her access to the president during the prelegislation portion of the session. They had told her that one other senator had a similar request with different incriminating evidence against the president, and they would use both the reports in conjunction to initiate a vote of no confidence in President Snotzenexer.

The guards had been alerted to the seriousness of the charges that were going to be brought against Snotzenexer and that it would be necessary to take the president into custody after the session ended. Each guard was prepared to rush onto the scene if the need should arise.

Evlyn took a long drink of water to try and rinse her nervousness away as she stepped into her box. She had been told that the other senator was going to give their presentation first. Evlyn wondered who that other senator was.

Senator Ellynor Belsiphvin had been a close friend to Leia, and now she scolded herself for leading the charge to replace their old president with this Imperial bastard. She had even been nominated to replace Leia after the former president had been deposed. Ellynor had refused the nomination, deferring to Snotzenexer. She had been the first person to greet the then senator when he had arrived on Coruscant and had held the naive notion that she had been one of the few who had groomed him for leadership.

Ellynor had been close friends to the Solos and to their family doctor. Dr. Herren Finsch had called her last night and told her about the evidence of prolan gas in the surviving members of the scrimmage. He explained at length the effects of the gas on people during normal activity, and then stressed the effects on people during times of adrenaline or anxiety.

It was pretty simple. Snotzenexer (or Sanson - it did not really matter at this point) had put prolan gas on board Captain Collins' ships and released it when Captain Paxtin began his dive bombing raid. The fact that this would initiate hallucinations in Captain Collins and his men was not information that would be hard to come by.

Senator Belsiphvin settled into her centrally located senate box and leveled a steady glare on the president. She saw that he was busy trying to get other senators to return his glances and wished that he would look her way, but he never did.

Snotzenexer noticed that the senate chamber filled more quickly than usual. He could hardly blame them. The camera droids were buzzing about in the air all around his senate box, and Snotzenexer ignored them for the most part. He could almost hear what the announcer on the other side of these cameras must be saying. Each senate session was broadcast live to anyone who wanted to watch it, and the announcer must be treating this broadcast as the last one in which the viewing audience would see President Snotzenexer in the central senate box.

Snotzenexer started the session with very little flair, knowing there would be plenty of excitement before the session was over without needing to add any of his own. Senator Belsiphvin was the first to speak.

Her box floated gently away from the curved wall. "I have in my hands a report from Dr. Herren Finsch," she started.

Snotzenexer did not remember any medical accusations made in the TBC and wondered what this could be about.

"He was and still is heavily involved in treating those suffering from injuries sustained during the ill-fated scrimmage of two days ago. This report tells of his findings in several officers that served under Captain Collins during the scrimmage."

Snotzenexer knew he was in trouble before the senator finished. This could only be about one thing.

"Dr. Finsch found clear evidence of prolan gas in every bridge officer he tested. Many of you will remember that prolan gas was discussed in this chamber a week ago, though I don't believe its specific effects were laid out for the main assembly."

Senator Belsiphvin then went on to explain in Dr. Finsch's words what prolan gas is capable of doing to people in the heat of a moment. She went on to report the rarity of the gas and the amount that would be necessary to fill several command bridges as was the case in this situation.

"Before any questions or discussion takes place on this topic, I would like to turn the floor over to Senator Cariasco."

Snotzenexer was not even given the chance to recognize Senator Cariasco. Senator Belsiphvin had done that for him, effectively enacting the one two punch that would not have been possible if she had relinquished her recognition back to president as was customary. Snotzenexer knew he was under an organized attack and barely heard Senator Cariasco's report as he thought of a way out.

"As many of you know," Evlyn Cariasco started after her box had moved into the center of the chamber, "I am the head of the investigation committee." Everyone assumed this was going to be about the scrimmage also, because they all knew Senator Cariasco's teams had done all the investigation into the results of the scrimmage. "I had placed a team on Xentin a few weeks back to investigate the mining disaster that took place there almost eight months ago. Many of you will remember that the disaster on Xentin was the first loan cancellation that had started the-" she almost said "Snotzenexer Miracle," but caught herself in time, "financial turmoil we endured after President Organa-Solo was removed from office.

"As part of our agreement to help planets and business rebuild after Imperial occupation with financial aid, we passed a bill to investigate any investment that failed. The disaster on Xentin fell into this category and was worthy of investigation.

"My team spent over a week on Xentin and has found out that the disaster was not the result of a natural occurrence or of a miscalculation by the mining team. They have definite proof that it was deliberate terrorist act. Drilling has shown that high levels of radiation are present in the ruins, radiation that could only come from an atomic explosion. There was only one visitor in the mining complex at the time of the accident that did not have a security pass. He was given a special tour of the main mining facility, which included a visit to the most fragile portion of the mine.

"The visitor died in the explosion while witnessing the disaster from a distant observation ledge. Though the ledge was pummeled with debris, it was spared from lava and human remains were gathered. Along with the body, an advanced detonation device disguised as a camera was found. The visitor was posing as an investment evaluator for the Varion Imperial Ba-"

Senator Belsiphvin's report had shocked the senate into silence, but this report stirred the senate into an uproar. The cries of outrage drowned out Senator Cariasco's last comments, but the senate had heard enough. So had Snotzenexer. He knew what he had to do.

"Silence!!" The scream was accompanied an incredibly loud electronic gavel. The intense volume of the shout from a president who was usually placid scared the senate into immediate compliance. "These reports are inaccurate and I hope further investigation will show that I have had no involv-" As Snotzenexer talked, he reached under his box's instrument panel to a secret compartment he had installed. He flipped it open and hit a switch. Every senate box in the entire chamber suddenly disconnected from the wall and floated several meters into the middle of the huge cylindrical chamber.

"-furthermore I will make sure that those responsible for these atroc-" Snotzenexer pretended to notice the boxes' sudden movement away from the wall. "What's going on! Someone is sabotaging the senate chamber! Security!" Snotzenexer then hit a second switch in his secret compartment.

Vexon gas is the most lethal gas in the known galaxy. Snotzenexer's first exposure to it was in his initial tour of the Varion Imperial Bank on Iom, the same day he took over. The main, underground vault was protected with vexon gas. The vault door was hollow and filled with the lethal chemical. The gas's acidic nature affected every type of material save the highest grades of glassine and durasteel.

Tanks made of high-grade durasteel had been installed under the floor of the senate chamber months ago, and now these tanks released their contents into the chamber through the floor mounted ventilation units. The fan blades that propelled the lethal gas into the vast chamber began to deteriorate significantly before the first waves of the gas even reached the lowest senate boxes.

The fans were totally inoperable within 30 seconds, but by then the quickly expanding and all consuming gas had filled the chamber and was well on its destructive way. Snotzenexer kept up his surprised act for as long as the small camera droids remained functioning. The acidic gas ate away at the delicate circuits within the camera droids, and Snotzenexer saw the camera lights go out moments before the repulsar unit failed and sent the droids crashing to the floor far below.

The effect of the gas was much more destructive on the senators. By inhaling the gas, the acid worked its victims from the inside out as well as the outside in. These senators did not last long and their screams were short lived. The gas did not care that these victims were already dead and progressed to turn the corpse into puddles of steaming liquid.

Several bold, if not a little stupid, senators tried to make the impossible jump back toward their personal senate chambers. With out a running start and with the considerable age of most of the senators, the gap between the senate boxes and the open doors mounted in the walls was too large, and those who tried found themselves falling through the air, often bouncing off of several doors beneath them. Their flight through the acidic gas increased their exposure to it, and their gelatinous corpses met a gruesome fate on the chamber floor.

Several of the senators breathed methane and had tanks connected to respirators. These victims were kept alive longer as the vexon gas ate away at their thick hides, searing their nervous system before the intense pain could render them unconscious. Their breathing apparatuses could not hold up to the acidic nature of the gas, and soon they too suffocated on the poison, but not before watching their bodies melt from their bones.

Snotzenexer took particular interest in the Hut senator that had joined the Republic after the Trade Federation had threatened to put his organization out of business. Huts had the ability to hold their breath for a very lengthy time and had a very resilient hide. The huts skin grew white hot as it fought against the vexon gas. The president could see the strain on the Hut's face to hold its breath under that pain he was experiencing. His senate box was also experiencing incredible strain, for not only did it have to support his and his associate's weight, but now its strength was being stolen from the acid gas that surrounded its circuits. One of the repulsar units failed before the others and tipped the senate box severely. Both Huts tumbled from the box and screamed their decent right past Snotzenexer's box. When they hit the floor far below, the sight was similar to that of a water balloon filled with green mud.

When Snotzenexer had summoned security right before he released the vexon gas every available guard had rushed to the nearest entrance to the main senate chamber. When they looked out the open doors, they noticed that the senate box that was supposed to be attached at each respective point was floating several meters away. Some guards made the leap to the boxes while others just watched the spectacle from the open doorway. In every case, the result was the same. Each guard was dead or dying before he knew that he was in mortal danger.

Through it all, Snotzenexer and Sanson remained safe inside their box, which repelled the imposing gas with a simple air pressure shield. While Sanson remained safe, she did not feel so standing next to her husband. She had killed plenty of men in her life, and this little display would put her husband close to her total, but she still had him beat. Still, she had never been part of such a gruesome display as what she now saw.

Bodies were draped over the sides of senate boxes, dripping as if they were wax statues in the hot sun. More of the senate box repulsars began to fail, tipping their grotesque contents to plummet though the air. "What have you done?" Sanson asked in a hoarse whisper.

Snotzenexer looked about the room. The skin of the many different races of the Republic colored the walls of the chamber. The floor of the chamber was quickly filling senate boxes and melted senators. "I dissolved the senate."

Sanson almost threw-up at the macabre humor. Snotzenexer too thought that he had done enough and flipped another switch. Tanks that contained a base almost as lethal emptied their contents into the huge chamber. Visibility disappeared as the two opposing gases neutralized each other into hissing steam and salt water. The neutralization process lasted a long time, for the base was not the polar opposite of the vexon gas and needed easily twice the volume to fully cancel the volatile acid.

After five minutes it was over. Snotzenexer opened the barely operational vents at the top of the chamber and let the remaining gasses and steam evacuate into the Coruscant sky. The couple could not exit the chamber the way they had entered for the path down was severely clogged. Instead they moved their box over to one of the open doorways into a private senate chamber.

Snotzenexer and Sanson both donned gas masks that Snotzenexer had kept in his senate box and stepped out of the protective shell of their pressure shield. They immediately began to feel a stinging sensation on their skin and raced toward an exit from the private chambers. The turbo lift was no longer operational, but they were not that high up and it only took a short trip on the stairs.

The couple emerged from the senate building with only minor burns on their skin, pretending to be in much worse pain than they were. Medics rushed to their aid and helped them into an airbus that whisked them back to the palace where they would receive medical aid.

Snotzenexer was faking delirium from the pain, but his mind was racing very efficiently. He gave himself a 50-50 chance of making it through this. It all depended on how the media interpreted the incident. He would give a little speech as soon as his doctors let him, but it would be up to the media, and then ultimately, the people. Snotzenexer laid back for now, his mind clouding over from the sedative that was being fed into his arm. He would not go down without a fight.

Chapter 19 "Overkill"

Thomas was looking forward to watching the senate proceedings, trying to figure out how Snotzenexer would react. He did not get the opportunity.

"Thomas," Mara said, bursting into his room, "they're here."

Thomas nodded, knowing that he would be able to catch the session later. They always played the important ones over and over and over . . .

"Just six siege ships?" Thomas asked, remembering what Ghent had reported.

Mara nodded. Siege ships were formidable attack ships, but had very weak defenses. They were covered with laser turrets and had dozens of torpedo tubes. In addition most siege ships contained several dozen droid fighters. They were used in blockades to overwhelm individual ships, forcing them to retreat. They were not very effective in mass battle for they had little armor and specialized in dealing a lot of little damage instead of any large damage. Siege ships were used to turn ships away, not to destroy them.

"How many ships should we use?" Mara asked as they walked through the short hallway and out onto the moon's surface.

"All of them," Thomas replied without hesitation. Before Mara could question him, the former Imperial Captain explained. "We need a little morale boost. This should be just the thing."

"I doubt all the ships will even get airborne before the fight is over," Mara said, disagreeing with Thomas but not willing to fight about it.

The commander of the lead siege ship scanned the space above Torenick. He had received his orders and was going to repel any ship carrying cargo that entered Torenick space. He was going to enjoy this assignment. The last word he had received was that over 120 ships should try to reach the planet spread out over the next three days.

"Let them try," he told himself. "There isn't a freighter in existence that could fly past one of my ships, much less six."

"Sir," one of the bridge lieutenants spoke up, "we have incoming on radar."

"Good, our first catch of the day." The commander walked to the observation ledge and sat down in his large chair. He rose immediately. Out from around the dark side of the moon came a swarm of freighters, blotting out a full quarter of his forward view.

"Lieutenant! How many?!"

"Uncertain, sir," the young man sounded very scared. "There are too many for the sensors to pick them up."

The commander dragged his chair forward and activated his personal weapon controls on a small panel at the base of the observation ledge. He watched in horror as none of his missile trackers could get a solid lock an any individual ship and just kept jumping from one to another as they flew crossing patterns.

"Fire a missile spread at the center of the swarm," the commander ordered. Had all 120 of the fighters arrived at once?

The six siege ships fired as one, sending four dozen armed torpedoes at the incoming freighters. Like a flock of game birds flushed by a hunter, the swarm divided in perfect formation, opening a huge hole to accept the unguided missiles. The ships continued to fly apart, breaking into eight different groups. They increased the central gap by several hundred kilometers, surrounding the siege ships, and then swooped in, attacking the doomed vessels from every angle.

The commander held on to his chair as his ship rocked and exploded. Several control panels ignited in sparks and fire, throwing their officers back, burnt and screaming. "Signal our surrender!" the commander shouted, but the communications officer was slumped over his burning station.

"Oh, well," commander lamented as he turned back to the action outside. He was just in time to see a torpedo aimed right at him shatter through the glassine viewport and end his contemplation with a fiery finality.

All the siege ships were burning wrecks before the fight was two minutes old. Mara and Thomas watched the fight from the moon. "I told you it was overkill," she said, wondering how much confidence the traders could possibly gain from this victory.

"And I didn't disagr-" A flash of light in the corner of Thomas' vision interrupted his comment. The ships jumping in from hyperspace were just gray dots in the distance, but Thomas knew exactly what they were. "Solo!" Thomas screamed into a com connected to Han in the Falcon. "End your celebration. You've got a pair of Imperial Star Destroyers and two dreadnoughts closing in on you."

"Where?!" Han shouted back.

To answer Han's question and show off their remarkable range, the two Star Destroyers opened fire on the mass of freighters. The distance was far too great for any type of weapon lock, but trying to hit one of the ships while they were in the jumbled mess was like trying to hit a mynock in a dark cave when the ceiling was littered with them.

Few of the freighters had kept their shields up after the brief fight with the siege ships, and the laser fire landed on them hard. At the great distance, very little damage could be done, but several of the ships suffered minor explosions. The frieghters scrambled again, far less organized this time and turned hesitantly to face off against the four new, much more powerful ships.

Every pilot knew that the group would almost definitely defeat the four Imperial ships, but they each also knew it could not be done without losses, maybe heavy losses.

Vince walked out of the newly built dormitory behind Thomas and Mara. Thomas turned around at the noise. "Vince!" Thomas cried, surprised the pilot and his friends were not in their ships. "We need you an-"

But Vince could see the action for himself. "Don't worry," he said turning and running toward the hangar as he spoke, "we're on it."

Back in the freighters, Han tried to organize some semblance of an offense, but the result turned into just a swarmed attack run, which was probably just as effective. The gunners on the Imperial ships had very little trouble hitting a target, but because of the multitude of ships, they were never sure if they hit the same ship twice. None of the freighters suffered any serious damage, though over half of them had been hit at least once.

The randomness of the Imperial attacks ended when they launched the TIE fighters. While the freighters outnumbered the fighters, none of them were as nimble and they were all hampered from the minor hits scored on them by the Imperial capitol ships. The two groups of smaller ships moved out away from the larger ones to do battle in a more open arena.

Pretty soon the TIE's began to explode with some regularity, but now that the freighters were no longer conducting attack runs at the Imperial capitol ships at top speed, they were much easier targets for the turbo lasers. Four freighters met a fiery fate within the first few minutes of battle.

Han was getting very worried that this would not work like he had planned. Chewie hooted as he took out another TIE with the Falcon's turret, but then choked on the celebration as a turbo laser scorched the back of the ship, stealing most of its shields.

"Solo," came a familiar voce over the com. It was Vince and the 185th. "You need to stop worrying about the fighters. Your ships are too easy of a target while dog fighting. Focus on the capitol ships."

"I agree," Han replied, evading collision with a lame freighter, "but we'll be an even easier target to the fighters if all we do are attack runs on the capitol ships."

"We'll worry about the fighters, you worry about the capitol ships."

"You can't possibly take out all the fighters by yourself. There's over 70 of them left and you only have three in your squadron."

"Don't worry, Han," Vince reassured him. "We have some invisible friends with us."

The V-38's, Han remembered. "Gotcha." Han quickly relayed the orders to the rest of the group of traders. Though they harbored the same fears as Han, they trusted the retired general and resumed their attacks on the Star Destroyers. The TIE pilots recognized this change of strategy and could not be happier for it. Most of the trade ships had been modified considerably, and the weak laser fire from the Imperial fighters was doing little real damage. They all recognized that by engaging the ships out in the open, they gave their capitol ships a better target, but most of the TIE pilots did not appreciate being used as bait.

Now the freighters broke off their dog fighting engagements and commenced attack runs on the Star Destroyers. The TIE fighters had no problem keeping pace with the trade ships and were able to get several hits on the back of the freighters during the attack runs.

One TIE pilot looked frantically over his shoulder, wondering if this was some kind of trick. The freighters outnumbered the fighters and it was possible that the rebel pilots were just luring the TIE's into straight-line runs so they could be picked off from behind. Satisfied that he had no tail, the TIE pilot settled in behind a ship he easily recognized as the Millennium Falcon. He had just obtained a solid weapon lock on the Corellian freighter when a turbo laser blew the TIE out of the sky.

The TIE pilot had not seen the death bolt coming, but the Imperial Commander standing on the bridge of one of the Star Destroyers did. He also saw a dozen more just like it. "Where did those shots come from?" the commander demanded.

"They appear to have originated from empty space, sir," the sensor officer dared to reply.

The commander watched another of the phantom lasers leap out of nothing and take out a TIE. "Retrace the trajectory of that shot and fire upon its origin," the commander ordered.

The weapon officer complied. The shot left the Star Destroyer and flew unhindered out into space, disappearing in the distance.

"Adjust a quarter degree to the right and fire again." Still nothing. "Another quarter degree - fire." Nothing. "Adjust a half degree to the left and a quarter down. Fire."

"Sir, there's noth-" the officer wisely shut his mouth as he and the rest of the bridge watched a TIE interceptor appear briefly before their eyes as the last turbo laser scorched across its right wing, momentarily shorting out its cloaking device. The game of peek-a-boo lasted only for an instant and the TIE was invisible again.

"Fire a laser spread on that location," the commander ordered, but the weapons officer was one step ahead of his commander. This time the TIE Interceptor remained visible as the energy bolts flew around it, permanently disabling its shields, sensors, engines, and cloaking device.

"NOW see if you can hit it," the commander said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice.

"Yes, sir!" The TIE Interceptor, Jedi pilot and all, was blown from the sky as a turbo laser lanced into its central pod.

Vince watched the final few moments of the encounter in horror. "Guys!" he shouted at the Jedi pilots, many of whom were barely in their teens and, in Vince's thinking, had no business in battle. "You have to keep moving! Even though they can't see you, they can still track your firing patter. Even a blind mouse can find the cheese, but not if the cheese is moving!"

Vince imagined the invisible Interceptors scrambling as the lucky Star Destroyer fired several more laser spreads across the area that had produced the other phantom turbo lasers. It got no more hits, but it transmitted its success to the rest of the Imperial capitol ships. Soon the battle area was filled with random laser fire in the slim hope that one of them might find one of the invisible ships.

Vince watched as the Jedi pilots tried to fire on the TIE fighters while on the move and sighed as the shots did not come anywhere near the speedy TIE's. When the Jedi did not have to fly their ships and were able to concentrate solely on their targets, their aim was so accurate it was creepy, but now the haphazard shots were almost as random as the ones coming from the Star Destroyers.

"Guys," Vince now said to his two wingmen, "I guess it's up to us."

"Roger that big buddy," Bep replied.

"I was waiting for you to say that," Jon replied. The ace pilot had test flown his new M-wing before but had not tested it in battle yet. He stretched the ship's legs now, accelerating to very dangerous speeds right at a collection of TIE's. The Imperial ships scattered, and Jon decelerated smoothly, locked his sights on one of the dodging ships, and opened up on it. He did not bother to confirm his kill as he looped away from the scene, accelerating in dramatic fashion.

Jon was amazed at how smoothly his ship handled. It accelerated and turned with out the slightest shudder or vibration. Though Vince and Bep had been great designers and had spent long hours building the W-wings, they just did not have the proper hardware to go with their ideas. The VCY had top of the line everything and Jon's ship was suped up beyond belief.

The M-wing found a new target quickly, and Jon tested his old fighting reflexes, hanging on to the ship for a while before firing. The desperate TIE pilot in the lead realized instantly that he would not be able to shake the tight tale, but his worry vanished when he saw three TIE's latch on to Jon's tail.

Jon's ship sensed the power surge in his three tails right before they fired. He yanked his ship into a 270-degree loop while corkscrewing 180. The three tails were too stunned to check their trigger fingers and each ship sent laser fire into their companion in the lead. The pilots watched in horror as their shots killed one of their own ships, and then tried to find the elusive M-wing.

Jon came down from above, blowing away all three ships in a single pass. He yanked on his stick, flipping 90 degrees in the opposite direction, just skimming over the explosions of his enemies. A stupid TIE pilot had momentarily forgotten where he was as he watched Jon's maneuvers in awe and got to experience the young pilot's skill first hand.

Vince and Bep faired just as well, handling every TIE they encountered. The Jedi pilots had wisely turned their attention toward the much bigger Star Destroyers and were finding you did not need to be nearly as accurate to hit the 1.6-kilometer long ships.

Still, the battle was not going well. The Imperial fighters were quickly diminishing under the unerring guns of the 185th, but the freighters were not fairing much better. The rebels had only lost seven ships total, including the V-38 that had been taken out, but a lot of the trade ships were damaged.

The Imperial ships were listing badly also, but they still needed the knock out punch, and the rebels were hesitant to deliver it, knowing it would cause many more loses on their side. This was the moment that the eight Star Destroyers from the VCY decided to drop in.

Han immediately called a strategic retreat, recognizing the new ships as allies. Farion Plebotius did not know a whole lot about warfare, but he understood the scene in front of him clearly enough. He outnumbered the enemies two to one, and all of his ships were fresh.

The chief engineer started by ordering his ships to lay down cover fire for the retreating freighters. The cover fire quickly turned into an all out offensive assault. The dreadnoughts gave way first. The smaller trade ships had picked at them continuously, and now the much more powerful ships ripped them apart at the seams.

The two remaining Star Destroyers tried a meager retreat but only turned halfway before mobility was stolen from them by the relentless reinforcements. They too quickly dissolved into pockmarked flame and scorched metal. The few TIE's had no where to go without their hyperspace mother ships, and quickly surrendered. The rebels gladly accepted the free ships and the entire group retired to the Torenick moon.

Thomas and Mara had watched the entire battle from their position on the moon. "Still think it was overkill?" Thomas asked.

Mara did not reply, but wondered what the men's morale was like now. Six of the traders had died and most of their ships had sustained some sort of damage. "How much time do we have?"

"None," Thomas responded. "I'd like the men to watch the senate proceedings so they know what is really going on and then we go to Coruscant."

"You want to fight Sanson at Coruscant?!" Mara asked incredulously.

"Better we fight on the field of our choosing than hers," Thomas countered. "Don't worry," Thomas smiled at her, "we'll win."

"We have to," Mara said under her breath.

* * *

Snotzenexer's armed entourage made a stop at one of the branches of the Coruscant Holocasting Company.

Snotzenexer and his wife had been released by the medical facility into the care of the palace guards. The doctors were at a loss. There obviously had to be an investigation into what had happen, and the fact that only two people survived the catastrophe in the senate did not set well for the ruling family. The planet city had always been run by the senate, and it was no longer there to give guidance.

The palace guards quickly stepped into the picture. They promised the doctors that Snotzenexer and Sanson would be kept under strict guard until such time that an investigation could be conducted or accusations could be made. The ideas were ridiculous. There was no one left to conduct an investigation and no one left to make accusations. As a result, the doctors were glad to relieve themselves of the burden of responsibility by handing over Snotzenexer and Sanson to the palace guard.

Like a tornic with its head cut off, the planet had no idea what to do. And similarly to the beheaded fowl, it was trying to run everywhere at once. Before it could begin to ask questions, Coruscant had to find an audience to receive those questions.

Attendance at regular senate sessions was rarely one hundred percent, but because of the importance of this fateful one, almost no one had been absent. Because of this, the public was at a loss to find anyone. Soon, two or three aids or secretaries who had been sick or late to the general assembly were found and nearly questioned to death. The aids were young aspiring minds and lacked both the experience and poise to handle such harassment by the press.

A few nearby planets went so far as to send immediate senatorial replacements as soon as the fatality reports came in. These ambitious planets thought that by being the first to initiate a new senate, their senators would be prominent members of the new regime. So eager to throw in new senators were these planets, that they often failed to tell the replacement senators why the current senator needed replacing.

After the media vultures were finished feeding on the few aids and secretaries, having found no real meat to sink their beaks in, they pounced on the new arriving senators. In the media's typical stupid fashion, they began to grille these new senators about the recent happenings and if they knew what was going on, as if these people from planets several systems away, some of whom had not even seen the short broadcast of the senate disaster, would know more about the event than the people attached to the company that had been responsible for airing the broadcast.

This little piece of insight failed to dawn on any of the reporters and their incessant questions forced the new arrivals back into their ships and some back to their home planets. The media began to roam again. Like prospectors on a new planet, they knew gold was close by, and the first one to find it was going to be rich.

Instead of the roaming reporters, it was a stationary anchorman that would cash in. Snotzenexer stepped out of the palace transport in front of the small broadcast building escorted by two palace guards. The guards were all former Imperials, and while they outwardly pretended that Snotzenexer was in custody, the president was the one giving out the orders.

Any security measure the broadcast building might have had in place for normal intruders fell pathetically away in front of Snotzenexer and his escorts. Word of the new arrivals did not travel as fast as the arrivals themselves, and the first report the producer of the broadcast station had that the president was there was when Snotzenexer strolled on to the set.

The building was in the process of a live broadcast, with the anchorman in the middle of commenting over yet another replay of the abbreviated senate broadcast. The last camera had malfunctioned a little less than a minute into the attack, before the real carnage had taken place, and all anyone could do was speculate. The anchorman was in the process of doing that now when he began receiving dramatic gestures from his producer.

Five seconds later, Snotzenexer walked right up to the startled newsman, and took a seat behind the desk. The anchorman was too startled to give an appropriate introduction for his visitor. Everyone had assumed Snotzenexer was dead. They had no real reason to believe otherwise. The last words he had said before the cameras had gone out proclaimed that the accusations against him were false and that they were under attack.

Without really reasoning it out, everyone had assumed the catastrophe to be the actions of this unknown third party. The accusations against Snotzenexer seemed unimportant in light of his death, and his claims that they were untrue were easily believable.

Now Snotzenexer sat in front of a live camera that was not subject to vexon gas and would continue to operate without interruption. "Citizens of Coruscant and the Republic," he started in a stately, yet injured voice. His face showed small burn marks that his gas mask had not protected him from and his hair seem oddly bleached. "We are under attack by a rebel force. As you all remember, I have been the target of personal attacks several times, both physical and in the tabloids."

His words had been chosen carefully. The physical attacks referred to the time when Luke and then Trince had stormed the palace in an attempt to confront him. Both attacks, though different in nature, had resulted in deaths. The second attacks had come more recently and Snotzenexer reminded his audience that they had started in a tabloid publication.

"Now these rebels have taken their treason to the next level and have attacked the very foundation of our government. This attempt to throw the Republic into anarchy will not succeed. I will not allow it to succeed!" Snotzenexer did not have to worry about his acting ability during this portion of his speech. He really was angry.

"Even now I am strengthening our borders to protect against another such attack. You will notice an increase in armed guards around the palace and in main parts of our great planet. These are not actions I enjoy taking, but they are necessary until we can end this threat to our safety and stability.

"There will be an increase in space traffic security as well. I advise no one to leave the planet unless absolutely necessary. My best advice to give to you is to stay in your homes and not to believe the rebellious propaganda that will be flooded to you through the media."

Snotzenexer paused, trying to remember if there was anything else to add. The anchorman took this break to try to initiate an interview, as if this surprise visit had been planned. "President, do you intend to institute a marshal law?"

Snotzenexer turned unexpectedly toward the voice, as if forgetting there was anyone else present. The cameraman too swung his device at his normal target in surprise before quickly expanding his lens to include both men.

Snotzenexer shrugged his shoulders, thinking he would go along with this format for a while. "Not marshal law," he corrected. "Marshal law is used to restrict the actions of the public to promote security. I wish only to protect the public, not from itself, but from the forces at large that wish to destroy their security. I will enforce no curfew and will not restrict travel, other than possibly encumbering it with increased security."

"Do you know the identity of these attackers?"

Snotzenexer briefly thought about dropping a few names, but did not. "Only that they are responsible for the many and varied reports that accuse me of every atrocity imaginable. The idea that I could have somehow orchestrated the natural disasters I'm being accused of is so preposterous, it's not even worth mentioning."

The anchorman had seen the reports and knew they were based on very solid facts and were not just the musings of a tabloid. He almost mentioned this, but thought better of it. This slight pause on his part gave Snotzenexer a good chance to leave. The president began to rise, and the anchorman grasped at the only question that came to his jumbled brain. "What of the accusations against your wife?"

Snotzenexer had now definitely decided this interview was over now. "Admiral Sanson is aboard her flagship and is organizing the planetary defenses as we speak. She also deeply resents the accusations that have been made against her, and I stand beside her and against those that believe otherwise. Now I must be going."

As quickly as he arrived on the live set, he left. The flustered anchorman was now the only one left behind the desk with all eyes focused on him. He went back to the first rule of journalism: when in doubt, plug the station. "That was President Snotzenexer live here in the studio. You are watching CHC, your best source for continual live coverage of this morni-"

Snotzenexer got back into the palace transport that had waited for him outside the small broadcast building and was soon traveling back to the palace. He had put the request out for hundreds of Imperial guards and several dozen of them were stationed around the palace to insure his security. As his transport settled onto the roof of the palace, he could see his men far below, already fighting a small crowd of a few thousand that had gathered for answers.

The media had been caught off guard by Snotzenexer's sudden appearance. They had been skirting real work, hoping to turn up an eyewitness or two that could give them the whole story at once. They had been looking for a vein of gold on the surface, a prospector's dream. Now that one of their own had stumbled upon such a vein - and Snotzenexer was truly a mother load - they all realized that if they wanted to get some for themselves, they would have to dig.

Not only did they need to find out what had happened during the senate session that had killed every senator save the president and his wife, but now they had direction from the president that there was a rebel faction at work. On top of all that, they still had the accusations against Snotzenexer that, despite his denial, still held water.

It took a while for the process to get moving, but once the gears began to turn, the vast media network quickly began to earn their paychecks. They scoured the disaster sight with a fine comb, going so far as to root through the remains as medics were removing the deceased. They interviewed senate chamber cooks, janitors, gardeners, maintenance people, and anyone they could find near the site.

At the same time, they investigated the TBC. When had the reports started? Who was publishing them? What was going on at Torenick? There was a sketchy report that Torenick was under Trade Federation sanctions, was that true? Very slowly, the media began to put together all of the pieces, and they were slowly releasing their findings to the public.

* * *

Thomas and the rebels did not have the luxury of operating slowly. The traders had gathered together on the moon, dejected and defeated. Even though they had emerged victorious, several of them had died. While this was inevitable for war, and the losses they took were very minor, it was a far cry from the labor strike they initially thought they were going to be a part of.

Thomas tried to bolster their confidence and conviction by showing them the disastrous events of the senate session. The footage showed little, but the reports that followed explained how the entire senate had been eliminated. This did not help the traders. Unlike Han, Thomas did not understand the mindset of the people he had employed. They were not patriots. They did not care who pounded the gavel in the senate, whether it was Palpatine, Leia, or Snotzenexer, just so long as they were free to do as they wanted and could earn a lifestyle.

Thomas feared they would walk out on him. Then they saw Snotzenexer's message. In it he accused the rebels of murdering the senators. In it he claimed the accusations made against him by the rebels were lies. In it he proclaimed that he would restrict space travel with increased security. In it he attacked each one of the traders by offending their character. Snotzenexer had called them murderers and liars.

Not half an hour later, the eight Star Destroyers were loaded down with fighters and freighters speeding through hyperspace toward Coruscant on an expedited route invented by Anakin. In the ship commander's ready room, on one of the eight Star Destroyers deemed the flagship, the minds of the New Rebellion, as they called themselves, were gathered.

Thomas sat at the head of the table. To his left sat Wedge, Perry, and Leia. To his right sat Mara, Han, and Lando. Lando was not exactly sure why he had been invited. Mara looked at the meeting like it was a waste of time. She liked to fly and live by the seat of her pants, and having tolerated all of Thomas' in-depth planning up to this point, she could barely restrain herself this close to the end.

Thomas launched into his speech as soon as everyone was seated. "We will drop out of hyperspace well short of the Coruscant system, about 10 minutes in hyperspace from the capitol." The table had a central holostrater and Thomas used it to pull up a blank space scene. "I'm pretty confident that Sanson will send a large portion of her fleet, herself included, to Torenick once she hears of our victory. They will use the standard route. We will set up inside that route."

Thomas illustrated a "U" in space. "These Star Destroyers have interdiction capability, and with it, we can yank her fleet out of hyperspace and into our trap. We will have ships directly ahead and on both sides. We also will place ships above and below." He drew a second "U" on a perpendicular plane to the first one, so the trapping ships looked like a bowl in three-dimensional space. "Finally we will have ships behind." Thomas placed a dot along the central axis of the bowl some distance from the base of the horizontal U's.

"Admiral Antilles, Captain Tremon, and myself have the most experience commanding capitol vessels and will lead the Star Destroyers. I will take four in the front position and Wedge and Perry will take two each on the side positions. President Loyran has supplied us with several dozen of his test pilots who are capable of flying the TIE fighters that came with our stolen merchandise. Plus each Star Destroyer group will have a small compliment of trade ships.

"The bulk of the freighters will be above and below. Star Destroyers were poorly designed for a battle in three dimensional space, and the hit and run tactics of the smaller trade ships will best be applied in the areas not easily reachable by the forward weapons on the Imperial ships. I've spoken with Han about this and I would like him and Lando to lead these two groups. I feel that you two have the best relationships with these men, and they will listen to you."

Thomas looked at Lando for a reaction, and the gambler nodded his head. How could he say no?

"This leaves us with the ships in the rear. There is a small nebula in which they shall hide until the last of Sanson's fleet is pulled out of hyperspace. They shall then close off the easy retreat and assault from behind. I am going to put the V-38's in this group, and several of the better freighters. Mara," Thomas said, turning expectantly toward the former Imperial assassin, "I was hoping that-"

"What about Skywalker?" Mara retorted, thinking the former commander should be in this meeting.

"He will be in your group, but as the V-38's commander, not that section of the fleet's commander. After the first few minutes, the invisible TIE's will be mixed into the fight, and not in communication with the rear part of the fleet. Besides, your ship has the ability to be cloaked and you have the ability to fly it as such."

"I can't say no, can I?" Mara asked, kind of liking the idea of being placed above Luke in the chain of command, though still apprehensive.

Thomas took that answer as a yes and moved on to the rest of the battle discussion. Mara walked out of the meeting a few minutes later with a more confident attitude. They would put up a very good fight. Depending on how many ships Sanson brought with her, the Republic Admiral could have her hands full.

Mara was thinking about the upcoming battle and not really paying attention to where she was walking. Her wandering brought her eventually to the large hangar on the flagship. Here another collection of minds was gathered, though one would hardly recognize it as such.

Farion Plebotius, the VCY's chief engineer was giving an eager audience a tour of the prototype ships he had designed and brought along with the stolen Star Destroyers. Luke and Anakin were following closely behind the engineer, looking for ships they could fly, for neither had their customary fighters with them. Vince, Bep, and Jon watched as interested connoisseurs and fellow designers, thinking they might be able to steal some ideas for W-wing upgrades. Lastly, Eran followed at a distance. The world of a fighter pilot was very new to him. He fought his battles with guns and explosives and, more recently, lightsabers.

Mara walked up to the group and sidled up next to Eran, wondering what this man's motivation was. She had heard the story of his involvement and knew he could be trusted. She had done far worse things, knowing they were bad when she had done them. Eran had a much cleaner conscious and genuinely wanted to help.

"This is the latest targeting ship I've designed," Farion said, in the middle of his tour. "Every year Vario holds pilot contests and the target course is the most prestigious event. There are plenty of pilots who can weave their way through an obstacle course in record time, but to be able to operate the weapons system at the same time and hit numerous targets along the way takes true skill."

Farion was preaching to the choir now. Vince, Bep, and especially Jon were the best in that field. Vince had told Wedge and Thomas that the main problem with the young Jedi in the V-38's was they could not fly and shoot at the same time. They could do one or the other with incredible skill, but it took more than Jedi concentration to combine the two. Thomas' answer was to put Luke in command of group. Luke had learned to fly before learning the Force, which had then only augmented his skill.

"Because of the event's popularity," Farion went on," I was asked to design a ship for the sole purpose of competing in that event." He motioned to the ship. "I call it the Sting Ray."

"Is it ready for battle?" Luke asked, thinking he had found his ship.

"I wouldn't have brought it with me if it wasn't," Farion replied. "I will tell you that it has very little shielding and no torpedoes. Like I said, it was built for only one reason."

Luke smiled. "It should fit right in with the V-38's."

"It doesn't have a cloaking device," Farion countered. "And I don't think it could support one."

"It won't need it," Luke kept his grin.

"I assure you," Farion continued, not catching on, "it has a considerable power supply and will show up clearly on radar."

"Trust me."

Mara decided to put an end to this game. "You forget," she spoke up from the back, "that you are talking with a Jedi Master."

Farion looked inquisitively at Mara and then back at Luke. The Jedi Master was still smiling. Did they mean he could hide a ship's presence with the Force? Farion shrugged, ignoring it and moving on.

"This next ship was ordered by a Varion based shipping company, though since the Trade Federation started, that company has gone bankrupt leaving me without a buyer for it. They were sick of pirates and wanted an escort fighter that could fly beside their valuable shipments. This is what I designed."

The fighter, if you could call it that, was massive. It was triangular in shape, sloping up into an elevated cockpit, almost looking like a miniature Star Destroyer. It bristled with laser cannons and torpedo tubes. The shield emitters were the largest any of the experienced pilots had ever seen on a ship of its size, and the twin fusion engines were as massive as a normal fighter all by themselves.

"Pretty sluggish, I bet," Anakin said, eyeing up the ship.

"You have no idea," Farion replied, not proud of the fact. "I got a chance to show the buyers the ship right before the business went under and they said they wanted a much more dexterous ship. I just laughed. You can't have both, at least not in the extreme like they wanted."

Vince nodded. The ship he was looking at had easily twice the armament of his W-wing, and Vince knew his fighter was the heaviest armed in the Republic fleet. Vince had to cut several corners and invent new engine philosophies along the way in order to make the W-wing as agile as it was. To get even half that mobility into a ship as large as the one he was looking at now would be impossible.

Farion took notice at Anakin's interest in the fighter. "I suppose you feel you could get it to turn flips as tight as an A-wing?" he asked sarcastically.

"Tighter," Anakin said, starting to walk around the ship. "Does it have a name?"

Farion shook his head. "The extinct company was to give it one."

"How about V-wing?" Anakin asked.

"What is your hang-up with naming ships after letters?" Farion blurted, though looking at the triangular ship, it was a good name.

"What about you?" Mara asked Eran quietly as they moved on to the next ship. "Have you picked out one that you like yet?"

"What, who, me?" Eran turned to Mara. "No, I don't fly."

This came as a great shock to Mara, for some reason. "You don't fly? I thought all you cocky, independent men were ace pilots. Isn't that how you pick up the women?"

Eran did not know how serious Mara was being. "I can fly a ship, but I've never had the need to fly a fighter. I wasn't part of any type of military. I was a secret agent that specialized in complicated insertion assignments."

Mara nodded. Her tutelage under the Emperor had been much the same and she had not really learned to fly until she had hooked up with Karde. "So what are you going to do when we get to show time?"

Eran assumed she was referring to the upcoming battle. "I haven't figure that out yet."

Eran intrigued her. "Why don't you come with me. Ra'tok and I could use a little company. Besides, you might learn something."

Eran nodded, having no other response prepared for the unusual woman. Mara had seen enough of the fighters and knew that end of the fight would be well handled by those present. Instead, she went off to find Ra'tok and see what kind of shape her ship was in.

Chapter 20 "Strategic Withdrawal"

It was a three-way toss up which way the Coruscant media would go with the story.

First you had the information coming from the TBC. There was a lot of evidence supporting the claim that Snotzenexer and Sanson were Imperials intent on returning the government to a Palpatine-Era and guilty of heinous crimes. The media could decide to dig into the evidence the TBC provided and then go searching for more, proving to themselves and the general public that Snotzenexer was evil.

On the other hand, the media had been in bed with the ruling family for the past seven months, and it made more sense for them to embrace the president's recent live comments and seek out the rebel faction. They would start with the TBC, trying to obtain the names of Leia and Mara, easily labeling them as enemies of the Republic.

The third route available to the media was by far the most professional, but was rarely chosen. The mass of reporters could attack this story without any preconceived notion of who was right and who was wrong. They could be totally open to the facts, letting their investigations reveal the truth with out being swayed by the propaganda around them.

For some insane reason, this third option was the one chosen. Common sense rarely had any say in Coruscant journalism. The money lay in scare tactics and scandals. The public was drawn to gory details and heroic triumphs. Plain facts never made the headlines - they just were not interesting.

On this occasion, the fraternity of journalists seemed to come to a common understanding. This was far too important to worry about who got the coverage rights, or who got the best ratings. With the senate destroyed and all sense of government with it, the media was in charge of the truth. It was a very serious responsibility, and almost everyone treated it as such. With such conviction, the answers nearly jumped out at them once they started to ask questions.

A maintenance man two months earlier at Snotzenexer's request had installed the tanks under the senate chamber that had contained the vexon gas. The maintenance man had not known what was in the tanks, but he knew it had to be important the way Snotzenexer had talked to him.

More and more injured patients from the scrimmage were being found to have traces of prolan gas in their blood. On one of the Calamarian Cruisers that had survived, the tanks of that gas were also found. The shipment records of prolanstina from the few cultivating fields that grew the bacteria correlated in volume to the amount of gas presumably used in the scrimmage.

The reporters and journalists began to dig into the past also. They remembered Snotzenexer's involvement in the destruction of Custom Shields Galactica and how he had used Republic ships to protect his own investment. They looked into some of his more curious bank dealings in the Varion system. Rumors of a merger between the VIB and the CGB began to float around.

Snotzenexer was quickly loosing credibility, and watching from a palace window, the president could tell he would not regain it. The crowd surrounding the palace was growing every hour. Tens of thousands of people crowded the palace park and overflowed into nearby buildings and parking platforms. The people were not only spread out below Snotzenexer's elevated perch, but across from it as well. The windows of the surrounding buildings were bursting with people shouting and screaming.

No actual words could be heard from the public chaos, but their mood was obvious. Snotzenexer had the palace defenses in place and felt safe enough. There was a very heavy particle shield that would keep even the heavy pressing of the throng away from the palace walls. Snotzenexer watched with some delight as dozens of protesters pressed against the shield and were crushed by the thousands behind them.

The bodies began to pile up quickly along the crowd's inner radius, and like the ocean during a receding tide, the crowd slowly pulled back. A sort of quiet fell on the people when they realized what they had done, yet somehow they managed to blame the deaths of the several dozen protesters on Snotzenexer and it only fueled their anger.

Instead of attacking the impenetrable shield as a group, individuals along the front line rushed the palace. They stopped short of the shield, hurling rocks and sticks high into the air as if they could somehow exceed the height of the domed shield. Snotzenexer only laughed as he watched some of the better-thrown rocks bounce hard off the shield and fly back into the vulnerable crowd.

The rock throwing ended after its futility was realized. It was quickly replaced with blaster fire. Dozens and then hundreds of blasters came alive, peppering the shield with laser fire. Again, the huge shield proved more than effective against the small weapons, and the shots deflected into the sky, a few striking the surrounding buildings.

Though Snotzenexer felt comfortable behind his shield, he also realized that it was not indestructible. Just like the crowd had upgraded from rocks to blasters in a matter of minutes, it would not take long for them to climb higher in the scale of destructive weapons. The president was being fired upon by almost a thousand of his own citizens and felt he had the right defend himself.

Snotzenexer raised a com unit to his face. "Fire randomly into the crowd," he said slowly.

Almost three dozen Imperial palace guards stationed all around the base of the building inside the shield opened fire into the crowd. It was impossible to miss, and each shot resulted in a casualty. Each guard only fired three times and there were a hundred corresponding dead protesters.

Instead of restraining the crowd, this show of deadly force only infuriated them more. Twice as many blasters as before fired, all of them aimed at the guards standing around the base of the palace. With so many bolts aimed at the same portions of the shield, a few managed to leak through. The guards retaliated with renewed force. This time, a dozen turbo lasers mounted on the exterior of the palace joined the barrage.

A minute later, three guards had been hit, though none of them badly wounded, and one thousand protesters had died. On impact the turbo lasers incinerated anything within a three-meter radius, and in this densely packed crowd, that translated to over 20 people.

The crowd attempted to scatter. The attempt only resulted in another 500 deaths. The outside perimeter of the crowd was growing constantly, sealing everyone in against the shield of the palace. The crowd realized this slowly as they were trampling their own neighbors. During the mass confusion, the crowd had ceased firing on the palace. As a result, the palace had ceased firing on the crowd.

This unofficial agreement between both parties was slowly being realized by the thousands of scared citizens. The cease fire arrangement was further emphasized when a few less wise individuals continued to fire on the palace. Concentrated turbo lasers on the lone marksman answered these scattered attacks. Not only was the attacker disintegrated, so were two dozen people around him.

The crowd was quickly putting an end to its attacks, viciously pummeling anyone near them who raised a blaster toward the shield. Everyone realized that if the guy standing next to them fired on the palace, they would be dead within seconds.

A deathly silence soon fell over the immense crowd. No one wanted to be there anymore, but the sheer size of the crowd prevented any type of evacuation. Both sides just waited for something to change.

That something came briefly as a few desperate citizens had climbed into their ships and commenced attack runs on the palace. These were not military ships, and the weapons were pathetic. The shield repelled all attacks easily, and the palace then returned fire in dramatic fashion. The ships burst into far more dramatic fireballs then they would have in the vacuum of space, and then showered the crowd below with deadly shrapnel.

As soon as the most recent of bad ideas was over, the crowd once again fell into an eerie calm, waiting for some dramatic change of events.

* * *

Sanson did not know what was going on below on the planet. She was too concerned with the reports she was getting from Torenick - or the lack of such reports.

The admiral could not get in touch with any of the ships she had sent to the rebellious planet. Their com circuits were not even returning her hyperspace pings. Either the ships had suffered massive power failures, or they had been destroyed.

Another very disturbing piece of information came from the Star Destroyer Sanson had sent to the Varion system. A very hesitant commander had told her that the eight Star Destroyers had gone into hyperspace to flush the radiation from their engines and had not returned. He explained that they had tried to circumvent the bridge lockout codes and force-fire the hyperspace engines to test them.

Sanson knew that this would cause a massive radiation leak and saw the rebel's trick quite easily. She had asked her commander why the VCY had continued to force fire all eight of the hyperdrives after each one had failed. Sanson could see how one of the ships could have undergone a radiation leak, but after that one had failed, she knew President Loyran would not have allowed his people to then do the same thing to the remaining seven ships.

Sanson had presented this simple reasoning to her commander, and he had been unable to respond. She had then ordered the nearest security officer on board of the Varion Star Destroyer to kill the stupid commander.

Sanson had left the lone Star Destroyer in the Varion system on the off chance that some of the rebels might return. The rebels now had eight Star Destroyers, and by now several dozen of the trade ships must have arrived at Torenick's moon. Sanson knew that if she allowed the rebels to gather their fleet together and then go into hiding, they would be very formidable.

In the past, the group of rebels had managed to take out two Death Stars with much less firepower than they had now. Sanson also knew that the Imperials in those two earlier battles had much more firepower than she had now.

The Republic had almost 40 capitol ships in the vicinity of Coruscant after loosing several ships during the scrimmage. Sanson could not gather even half of that amount right now. Most of the military personnel had been given leave so they could be interviewed for the trial that had taken place yesterday. Only a skeleton crew had been left in orbit above Coruscant, manning only about 15 ships. Almost half of those ships were staffed with genuine Republic officers, leaving Sanson with only eight Star Destroyers, including her Super Star Destroyer, the Dark Fist.

Sanson did not know if she could trust the other ships. She knew they would obey her command. She had given countless speeches to the press and her fellow officers explaining the need to no longer look at her ships as Imperial ships. They were all part of the same Republic.

Before, the Republic old-timers had simply nodded at these comments, not taking them to heart. But now, after the scrimmage, they were ready to show the rest of the galaxy that the Republic officers were not the grudge-holding men they had appeared to be during the scrimmage.

Sanson had done a good job of shielding the military from the media coming both from Torenick and from Coruscant. She knew they would follow her willingly into battle against an evil foe, but Sanson also knew she might not find that foe. If she brought all these ships to Torenick, they would probably spend their time, picking off individual trade ships as they arrived at the moon.

Sanson would also have to leave some ships around the planet to enforce the illegal trade embargo and take some to hunt down the rest of the rebels. She knew the Republic officers would loose faith in her professed conversion pretty quick under those circumstances.

While Sanson did not know if she could trust the Republic officers, she also did not think she had a choice. She had only had eight of her own ships, and even though the eight-kilometer long Dark Fist was easily the equivalent of five of the smaller Imperial class Star Destroyers, by the time she got her ships to Torenick the rebels would have gathered most, if not all, of the over 130 trade ships they had summoned. Along with their eight stolen Star Destroyers, the fight would be more than fair.

Sanson had almost a dozen more Star Destroyers undergoing repairs in the Coruscant Shipyards, but it would take the better part of a week to find the men to staff them. By that time the rebels would have gone into hiding and she would have lost her opportunity.

There was not much of a choice left when Sanson weighed all the options. She had to take what she had around the planet and attack the rebels at Torenick. As Sanson relayed her orders to the rest of the orbiting fleet, she tried to think about her opponents' strategy plans. Wedge Antilles and Perry Tremon were members of this New Rebellion. Looking at the volumes of information on Antilles and the few tid bits on Tremon, Sanson knew she would not be able to predict the men. They were far too experienced and clever to give away their strategies or secrets.

The only weakness Sanson could hope for would be in the collection of trade ships. Han Solo had to be the common link, and the female admiral doubted the former smuggler could still have a significant tie with his old associates. If she could dishearten the traders, she might initiate a mass retreat, leaving only the Star Destroyers. Sanson doubted her Republic officers would have a hard time firing on them.

It took a few minutes to coordinate the fleet of fifteen capitol ships, and half a dozen smaller carriers and frigates into hyperspace formation. Once assembled, Sanson gave the word, and the fleet stretched out of real space and snapped into hyperspace.

Sanson stood on her bridge, basking briefly in the slight rush she always felt when entering hyperspace before a battle. She knew that when they entered real space in a little over a day's time, they would be only seconds from battle. Sanson did not know if she could wait that long. The battle lust that normally churned so earnestly inside her had died down of late. The combination of military inactivity and the birth of her son and calmed her considerably. The scrimmage had done little for her, for she had taken a back seat to the action, even though she had directed it.

Now that battle lust was coming back to the surface. She absorbed this feeling for several minutes before turning to leave the bridge. She was just about to her office, when the bridge shook violently, nearly throwing her to the floor. Sanson grabbed hold of the railing surrounding the elevated command platform above the recessed bridge and looked around desperately for answers.

One look out the forward view screen told the admiral they were back in normal space, and true to her earlier thoughts, they were only seconds from battle. The Dark Fist was positioned in the center of the hyperspace formation, and Sanson looked past the rear ends of the ships in front of her to the few Star Destroyers that lay ahead facing the Coruscant fleet.

There were only four Star Destroyers ahead of them. Sanson quickly checked the radar and found the other four stationed two to either side of her fleet. Mixed among the Star Destroyers were dozens upon dozens of smaller ships. Sanson saw there were also a considerable number of freighters above and below her, as well as a small amount moving in behind.

The trap was perfectly executed. Laser fire rocked her ship from all sides as the ship's shields were slow in coming up. The shock of the interdiction field to the engines caused the delay in the shields, and the rebels took full advantage of it, doing considerable damage to the Coruscant fleet.

The fleet was not in a battle ready position, and only half of the ships were able to return fire without hitting one of their own. Sanson took one ten second look at the situation and knew the game was over. Like a grand master at holo chess, she could see dozens of moves into the future and knew she had lost.

There was no explainable way these ships could have gotten to this position so quickly. Over half of the trade ships were not even due at Torenick yet. Sanson had received word that the Star Destroyers had been stolen almost 24 hours ago, yet it was easily eight hours to get to Torenick from the Varion system, and then another 30 hours to Coruscant. Besides that, how had the rebels known Sanson would come after them this soon?

All of the questions that should have been racing through Sanson's mind were not. She saw no reason to search out the reason for the rebels' presence. Knowing how they got here in such number would not change anything, especially the out come of this fight.

Not only did Sanson recognize her loss here just out side of the Coruscant system, she realized this would also turn into defeat on a much grander scale when the rebels (what was left of them after the battle) continued on to Coruscant with no fleet protecting the planet filled with rebelling citizens.

Unlike many of her Imperial predecessors, Sanson was not stupid. She knew when it was time to retreat, and she was not too proud to do it. She had no illusions of being able to turn her entire fleet around, though. The ships were too tightly packed and under too much fire power to make any type of turn about. Besides, the interdiction field was still in place. No, the retreat Sanson was planning was on a much more personal level.

* * *

Wedge, Thomas, and Perry saw the game was over right away too. Unlike Sanson, though, they were concerned with more than just the outcome. The Imperial Admiral looked at the outcome as a win or a loss, caring for little else. The New Rebellion commanders tended to pay more attention to the casualties. They would win, but it would still be a major challenge to keep the casualties to a minimum.

"Thomas," Wedge said into his com as he looked at the captured fleet before him, "there are a lot of Calamarian Cruisers in that fleet."

"I see them," Thomas replied. "What do you think?"

"I think they are staffed with Republic loyals. I don't think the Imperials could have gained familiarity with the ships to fly them on their own. Besides, Sanson doesn't have enough personnel left to fly all the ships in front of us."

"I agree," Thomas replied. The former Imperial Captain flipped a switch to speak to all of his fleet commanders. "Focus all fire power on Imperial craft only."

Han and Lando received the order and relayed it to their ships above and below the Coruscant fleet. Thomas watched in respect as the trade ships sped down and up weaving through the stationary capitol ships as smoothly as if they were part of an enormous loom. During their passage through the Imperial ships, the freighters unleashed a tremendous amount of firepower, pummeling the Star Destroyers that were momentarily without shields.

As planned, the majority of the shots were aimed at turbo laser mounts and battery placements. Two of the eight Star Destroyers were left with 50% percent power after the first pass. One of the ships had their shields disabled for good, and had little hope for survival.

Not one of the freighters took a hit. The targeting systems of the fleet ships were still scrambled from the interdiction field and the attack was executed so perfectly, the ships literally did not know what had hit them.

After the first pass was completed, the rest of the ships closed in. Before the fleet could spread themselves into better battle position, Thomas, Wedge, and Perry tightened their hold on the ships, releasing volley after volley of turbo laser fire on the helpless Imperial ships.

Moving into position behind the fleet that had just dropped out of hyperspace, Mara, Luke, and a small group of freighters joined the fight. Leading the V-38's into the fray, Luke gave telepathic instructions to his students through the Force. Luke had heard the reports of how the Emperor had controlled his commanders during battle, making them operate more efficiently. He had also heard how Thrawn had used C'boath for the same purpose. Now, the galaxy's remaining Jedi Master did the same with his small collection of fighters. The V-38's moved into the stationary capitol ships, slipped beneath the recently raised shields, and began exacting sever damage on everything in their sights.

The 185th and Anakin did not want to be left out of the fun either, and accompanied by a couple dozen of the VCY's best test pilots, the fighters leaped from the belly of Thomas' Star Destroyer and dove into the fun. By now, several of the Star Destroyers and cruisers had emptied their holds and enemy fighters swarmed the close quarters between the compressed ships.

* * *

Sanson had not issued one command since dropping out of hyperspace and only watched the proceedings in silence. She was the fleet's admiral, but each ship had its own commander, including the one she was on. Without any commands from Sanson, each ship acted on its own, doing battle as it saw fit. The result was a very uncoordinated attack.

The sight was sickening to Sanson, but she had no motivation to rectify the situation. She knew that no matter what she did, she would still lose. It was not until she found a way out that she issued her first command.

The admiral sat in her command chair and activated her com unit. "Captain Pearson," she called out to the idiot commander of the Star Destroyer she wished to use. "Proceed at half thrusters along these coordinates." She entered the coordinates through the com.

"But, Admiral," Pearson replied - the famous last words of many an Imperial Captain - "that course will place my ship directly between two enemy ships and my shields are almost failing."

Sanson wished she could strangle the man. "Do you recognize those ships, Captain?" she asked, referring to the stolen Star Destroyers Pearson was worried about. "The one on the right is SD129A3. You know as well as I do that it has always had a sporadic port side lateral stabilizer. I need you to take out the starboard side of that ship. The power fluctuations from the resulting shortage combined with the faulty port side stabilizers should throw the ship violently to the left. Those two ships are flying too close together and the resulting collision should take them both out and leave you an avenue of escape."

The strategy was a total fabrication. Sanson had no idea what the serial number of the Star Destroyer in question was, and none of her ships had any problems with their lateral stabilizers. Pearson ate it up. "Yes, Admiral." He especially liked the escaping part.

Pearson moved his ship out of the protection offered by the fleet and crept toward the two enemy Star Destroyers. Perry Tremon was in command of the two ships in question and concentrated his firepower on the foolish ship.

The rest of the Imperials noticed the move and knew Pearson would not do something like that on his own. One by one they began to call into the Dark Fist for Sanson's orders.

"Admiral," the communications officer spoke up when he began receiving the calls, "the rest of the fleet would like to kno-" the officer paused as he turned around and saw that Sanson was no longer on the bridge.

The command shuttle left the back of the Super Star Destroyer like a rocket. Sanson used all of her flying skill to avoid an instant collision with a nearby Calamarian Cruiser and then dove around a speeding fighter, just avoiding a collision. Sanson caught a glimpse of the fighter as it passed beside and recognized the original design. She suffered for a brief moment of severe panic as the W-wing sped away from her. The ship easily took out three TIE fighters and then swung around the bottom of the Dark Fist and out of view. Sanson let out a long sigh and continued toward Pearson's doomed ship.

Vince had not even seen the command shuttle that flew past him within 20 meters. He was too intent on his three targets and six tails. He almost always fought in conjunction with Bep, but the two friends had been split up at the beginning of the fight, and had not seen each other since. Vince wasted the three ships in front of them when they tried a maneuver that stalled one of their engines, making that ship nearly collide with the other two ships. When the other two decelerated to avoid the collision, Vince made sure they did not get a chance to speed back up.

The W-wing took a couple hits from behind and Vince spun his ship under the huge Super Star Destroyer on his left. In the distance, under the vast ship that was now above him, Vince saw two small bursts of light that looked very similar to the three twisted wrecks he had just left behind. Another W-wing emerged between the ex-TIE's and Vince was glad to see his friend.

Bep had four tails of his own, and as the two friends passed within ten meters, they targeted each other's tails and reduced the ten enemy ships to three in a matter of two seconds. The remaining TIE's were a little confused as to which ship they had been chasing, and remembered just in time to watch the appropriate W-wing circle about and take them out.

Jon was on a mission. His M-wing was handling better than he could have ever hoped, but the lame pilot took little pleasure in destroying the dozens of enemy ships that flew into his scopes. Jon was busy buzzing bridges, looking for Captain Krychink. Seven months ago, when Jon had been shot down over Iom, Captain Krychink (Commander Krychink at the time) had been the Imperial who had cleverly defeated him.

Jon had aimed his W-wing right at the bridge of Krychink's Star Destroyer so the numerous tails the skilled pilot had acquired would fire on their own ship if they missed, which they had done with frightening regularity. Jon had made a last second maneuver to skirt around the bridge and emerged just behind the Star Destroyer. Krychink had timed a main thruster firing to correlate with the exact time Jon's ship flew in front of the engines. The resulting damage to the W-wing had crashed Jon's ship on Iom, and had put him in a wheelchair.

Jon had gotten a good look at Krychink's face during his daring maneuver seven months ago, and had recognized the Imperial as he had watched the scrimmage trial, which had taken place two days ago. The captain had been praised as a tactical genius, and while Jon knew there was some validity to that claim, Jon was sure the eclipse maneuver Krychink had used during the scrimmage was the brainchild of Sanson, or more likely Snotzenexer.

It was not until Jon blew past his sixth Star Destroyer bridge that he noticed his target. Krychink did not recognize the fighter that buzzed by the bridge, but smiled as he saw the half-dozen TIE's that hung close to Jon's tail. Krychink barely remembered the encounter he had had with Jon back in the Varion system and would not have recognized the young pilot even if the M-wing did not have a one-way glassine cockpit. Though he did not know who he was looking at, he realized it was one heck of a pilot.

Jon put his ship into a wide 270-degree turn and came right back at the main bridge. The turn was wide enough for the six tails to follow it, which was not an accident. The M-wing had incredible shields, and the two shots that were lucky enough to land on the back of Jon's ship as he turned did virtually no damage. Jon released two magnesium flares from the side of his ship that had been hit. The flares were magnesium oxygen tanks that burned bright and hot, great for redirecting torpedoes or for making it look like your ship has been hit.

Jon threw his ship into a hard corkscrew, still aimed right at the bridge. "Captain!" one of the bridge officers screamed. "It's been hit! It's going to hit us!"

"Full forward bridge deflectors!" Krychink commanded needlessly. The shield officer had already cranked the bridge shield strength well beyond maximum.

Jon knew that the bridge shield hugged the glassine viewports very tightly and yanked himself out of the corkscrew and up over the bridge just in front of the viewports. He was too focused in his task to take pleasure in the fact that Krychink dove clumsily over his chair in some feeble attempt to avoid the inevitable collision.

Jon's M-wing was not the ship that Krychink should have been worried about. The six tails were too occupied with the idea that they had actually done some damage to the elusive ship to realize their proximity to the bridge. When Jon brought his undamaged ship out of the corkscrew and flew just over the bridge, the tails were looking right at Krychink and his officers. The TIE pilots yanked their sticks in random directions to avoid the collision. As Jon had hoped, two of the ships collided with each other and plowed into the shield in a fiery explosion.

To its credit, the shield held, but Jon was remedying that situation above the bridge. The two shield generators stood out like water towers on top of the Star Destroyer, and Jon threw all of his ship's energy into a concentrated burst of firepower toward the base of one of the towers. Jon brought his ship to a near stand still as he stole all the power from his engines for the vicious attack. The experienced pilot was not worried about enemy fire for he knew his tails were spinning off in some random direction after their near miss with the bridge crew of the huge ship.

By throwing all of the shield's power into one component of the huge ship the system was overloaded. Combined with the two colliding TIE's and Jon's demolition work above, the shield control panel on the main bridge exploded in a shower of sparks and flame, killing the shield officer instantly and throwing him several meters back.

"What happened?!" Krychink screamed as he ran toward the forward section of the bridge to the burned out station. "Status!"

"Sir we have no forward shield strength! I repeat, we have zero shields!"

"You mean-" Krychink looked up slowly.

The M-wing was slowly lowering itself in front of the bridge. The Imperial Captain was standing two meters from the main viewport. The relatively small fighter looked enormous to the petrified captain as it slowly came into view. The forward barrel of the central laser canon was less than a meter from the thick glassine viewport and aimed directly at Krychink's chest.

The laser canon fired once. The energy bolt burned a perfect circle, four centimeters across, in the glassine before it tore a much larger hole through the captain's chest and exploded into the computer bank behind him. As the pressure inside the bridge was released through the tiny hole, the viewport began to crack in a massive spider web. The sound was sickening to hear for the bridge crew - like fingernails over slate. The cracks traversed the entire panel in a matter of seconds, spreading their hairline fingers all the way to the durasteel framework.

The viewport looked like it might hold, but the ship's dead captain was picked up by a gust of suction and hurled at the weakened glassine. Krychink was sliced apart as he passed through the viewport, blowing the entire three-meter pain out of the framework. As the rest of the bridge was evacuated in a heartbeat, Jon threw several more laser bolts into the bridge and left as a wave of flame chased the rest of the bridge crew out into space.

If any Imperials in the fleet survived this encounter, they would do well never to cross Jon Poncho again.

Chapter 21 "Coming Home"

Sanson stayed well inside Captain Pearson's shadow as the doomed Star Destroyer headed toward the two enemy ships. As commanded, Pearson emptied his laser batteries on the targeted ship. The starboard side was turned to a mesh by the concentrated fire, and the lateral stabilizers on the right side did misfire, but the port side stabilizers were fine, and easily compensated for the lack of starboard thrusters.

Pearson knew something was wrong when instead of the ship on the right veering sharply to the left and into the other Star Destroyer, it moved slowly to the right, increasing the gap between the two ships. Pearson was headed straight for that gap and knew he would never make it. Like a dumb Imperial, he tried, and his ship was reduced to a drifting hunk of charred metal as both New Rebellion ships tore into it from either side.

Unseen by either of the two enemy ships, Sanson's shuttle flew beneath Pearson's drifting ship and through the gap between the occupied Star Destroyers. Sanson was sure she had a clean getaway, but one ship had seen her.

* * *

Mara tried to organize her small band of ships at the back of the fleet, but it was hopeless. The majority of the group's firepower was tied into the V-38's, and Luke had taken those invisible ships into the fray. The rest of the ships were faced with looking at the rear thrusters of the Coruscant fleet, which did not offer very good targets. Each of the freighters took their own initiative, following the V-38's into the main battle.

Mara stayed behind for a short while, knowing that Thomas had wanted her to prevent any escape. Soon, it became obvious that nothing inside the New Rebellion's ring of death was going to escape and Mara served little purpose.

Mara looked to her side to see Ra'tok, taping away at the sensor controls, monitoring the battle from a distance. She looked over her shoulder and saw Eran looking very out of place. "So you can't fly, huh?" Mara asked.

Eran had never witnessed a space battle of this magnitude and was staring dumbly out the forward view screen. He barely registered Mara's question and nodded.

"Well, can you fire a laser turret?"

Eran looked at her, realizing that he was going to get a chance either way. "I can learn."

"Good. You and Ra'tok make your way to the turrets, I'm bringing us in." Mara's two helpers disappeared from sight as she accelerated the Jade's Fire toward the main fighting. Just before she plunged her ship through the perimeter, something in the Force tugged her in a different direction.

On impulse, Mara turned her ship in that direction and noticed a small speck leaving the central battle area. "And where are you going?" Mara asked the small ship quietly. None of the Imperial fighters had hyperspace capability and it was a long walk back to Coruscant in normal space.

As Mara contemplated that, she brought the small ship up on radar. "An Imperial shuttle craft," Mara said to herself, reading the screen's output. Mara could see the burning hulk of the Imperial ship still being fired upon by the two New Rebellion ships. "Abandoned ship, did we?" Mara was about to ignore the ship, but something in the Force kept tugging at her.

The shuttle was turning more toward Mara now, to get a good line on Coruscant. While the fighters did not have hyperspace engines, the Imperial shuttles did. Mara looked at the energy readings coming from the ship. "Powerful little shuttle." Then it clicked. Mara looked back at the main battle, seeing the Super Star Destroyer sitting right in the middle of the mess. "Sanson!" Mara hated that woman.

"Change of plans, guys," Mara said into the ship's intercom system. "We've got a runaway to catch."

Just as Mara began to alter her course, the command shuttle disappeared into hyperspace. Ra'tok and Eran showed up a minute later. Mara was speeding away from the main battle at top speed with nothing but empty space in front of her.

At first it looked like Mara was running from the fight, and while Eran might believe that, Ra'tok knew it could not be true. "Where are we going?" the Defel asked.

"I have to get out of the interdiction field," Mara replied. "Sanson is trying to escape back to Coruscant. If we don't stop her, she might get to Snotzenexer and we'll never see the two of them again."

Eran nodded in approval. Mara watched as a small red light on her flight panel blinked off. "Hold on." The ship leaped into hyperspace.

* * *

As the Imperial ships began to explode around them, it did not take much effort for the Calamarian Cruisers to realize they were not being targeted. At first, without any guidance from Sanson, each ship had gone its own way and lashed out at the nearest available target. Now, the Republic ships not being fired upon, realized that they were in no real danger, and were putting forth very little offensive effort. Something did not make sense.

Recently promoted Captain Archvin looked at the battle around him, wondering what the meaning of this was. Admiral Sanson had said they were jumping to track down the rebels responsible for the senate murders. Archvin had not even known the senate had been wiped out.

Then a few Star Destroyers and a bunch of freighters yanked them out of hyperspace barely ten minutes outside of Coruscant. It was obviously a trap, but the enemy was only concerned with the Imperial ships. This set off several mental alarms in the captain's head.

"Sir," the communications officer spoke up, "I have an incoming transmission from one of the enemy ships."

"On speaker," Archvin ordered.

"Commander Archvin," a familiar voice said, "this is Wedge Antilles."

"Admiral?!" the captain was shocked. That Wedge did not know about his promotion mattered very little to the captain. With the resignation and court-martial of the five Republic Captains after the scrimmage, there were several holes that needed to be filled. "Admiral Antilles, what in the Maw is going on?"

"I'm afraid you and the rest of the Republic have been duped by Snotzenexer and Sanson. I realize you have heard those claims before, and have no real reason to believe them now, but I implore you to stay out of this. If your ships do not fire on us, we will not fire on you. We are only interested in the Imperials."

"There are no more Imperials!" Archvin screamed. That was something that had been drilled into every Republic officer repeatedly after the scrimmage. "There are no more Imperials. We are all part of the same Republic!"

"Gene," Wedge said calmly, addressing the captain by his first name, "how long have we known each other? Fifteen, twenty years? I was the one who gave you your first three promotions. We played sabacc every other night for about ten years straight. You can trust me. Don't you think I would make absolutely sure of what I'm talking about before I went and did something this rash? Please, think about it."

Wedge closed the connection, but his voice hung in every bridge officer's ear. Archvin too was calmed by his former commanding officer's voice. Wedge Antilles was a man who was never surprised. Every time he stuck his neck out, it was for a good reason. He took nothing but calculated risks. In the long time Archvin had known Wedge, he had never seen the Admiral bluff away from the sabacc table. If Wedge really believed that Sanson was bad, then he had an awfully good reason for it.

"Stand down," Archvin said calmly to his weapons officer. He turned to the communications officer. "Forward Admiral Antilles' comments to the rest of OUR portion of the fleet and tell them we are standing down."

The communications officer had not yet made up his own mind what to think, but he carried out his orders. Within the next five minutes, every one of the Calamarian Cruisers stood down and recalled all their fighters. A few of the ships went so far as to leave the concentrated fleet to stand alongside Wedge, Thomas, and Perry.

* * *

Sanson was totally unprepared for the sight surrounding the palace. Hundreds of thousands of people swarmed around the base of the huge centerpiece of the city planet. For the size of the crowd, Sanson thought it looked very serene. That calm changed abruptly when the crowd saw Sanson's ship approaching.

Most of the people recognized it as the fleet's command shuttle, and they knew who had to be aboard. They already found out they could not touch Snotzenexer inside his protective shell, but Sanson was free game. Hundreds of blaster bolts shot up at the shuttle.

Sanson had not expected an attack and had not raised her shields since dropping out of hyperspace a few moments ago. Still, the small weapons fire, at such a great distance should have had no affect on the strong shuttle. The designers of the ship, however, had not expected it would ever undergo a concentrated attack made by nearly five hundred blasters at once.

The shuttle jerked violently as it lurched toward the small opening in the top of the domed palace shield. The shuttle suffered one last barrage before falling behind the protective shell around the palace. Sanson felt and heard several explosions tear through the rear of the ship, and the shuttle dropped like a stone for the last dozen meters to the palace's rooftop landing pad.

Sanson cursed violently. She wanted to have this shuttle available for her and her family to escape if their preplanned means failed. Now, she knew the shuttle would never enter hyperspace again, much less make it off the top of the palace.

Two guards ran to the shuttle to make sure their admiral was okay. Sanson stumbled from the ship before the guards could assist her. She was shaken up a bit, but she would be fine. She shoved away the men that tried to help her. "I'm fine. Where is my husband?"

Neither guard spoke but pointed to one of the turbo lifts that went down into the palace. Sanson walked quickly toward the indicated lift, knowing that it led straight to the palace's private quarters.

Sanson exited the lift a few moments later and saw her husband standing in front of the window staring down into the crowd. "Dear, we have to go now. We don't have much time."

Snotzenexer did not move. He did not even turn around to recognize his wife's presence. "Alex! We have to go NOW! Those people out there are going to tear this place apart if we stay any longer. Our fleet is being dismantled as we speak. We need to go."

The comment about the fleet was news to Snotzenexer, but seeing as how Sanson was supposed to be halfway to Torenick right now, the president kind of figured something was up.

Sanson was running out of patience. "What is wrong?! Why aren't you moving?!"

"I don't have David," Snotzenexer said quietly, still looking out the window.

"What?!" Sanson wanted to throw her husband out of his accursed window. "Where is my son?!"

"The nurse has him," Snotzenexer continued in his quiet, defeated voice. "She'll be along shortly."

"You didn't have him near you when this whole thing started?! What were you thi-" she stopped screaming at him as he slowly turned around.

Snotzenexer's face seemed as if he was about to burst into tears. "I wasn't thinking," he replied in a still quiet voice, though it was growing in volume. "I wasn't thinking. I'm an idiot, okay. I'm the biggest, blasted moron this universe has ever seen! Is that what you want to hear?! Is that what you want me to say? Huh? Do you think that if I own up to this mess that it will all go away? It won't! I screwed up, and now we are going to pay for it!"

Snotzenexer had never once yelled at his wife.

Now it was Sanson who looked close to tears. "I . . . I just want to know that our son is safe. I didn't mean that you . . . I mean that we . . ."

Snotzenexer's face fell. "I'm sorry, dear. David will be here shortly and then we can leave on our ship like we have planed."

Sanson shook her head. "The crowd will never let us leave."

"Your shuttle?" Snotzenexer asked, thinking he already knew the answer.

Sanson continued to shake her head. "It will never fly again."

Snotzenexer nodded, thinking things through. "I have another plan." He turned back to his window, reminding himself where his plans had gotten them so far. "A better plan."

Sanson wished she could turn back the clock and take back her words of a few minutes before. She knew that her husband was taking this failure very hard. Sanson was dealing with it much better. Seven months ago when they had decided to abandon their plans of returning the galaxy to an Imperial dictatorship, Sanson had lost her dreams of leading the most powerful fleet in galactic history and had become satisfied with simply growing old in the lap of luxury with her family.

Little of that dream had changed even now. The three of them would escape from Coruscant and flee to a small insignificant planet. Sanson had her mind set on Gensifery, a tropical planet she had attacked almost a year ago while under Tallon's command. Snotzenexer was partial to Naboo.

Snotzenexer's real dream, though, had been to remain the president of the greatest Republic ever created. For all of the people he killed, he still actually loved them. Or more accurately, he loved the praise they lavished upon him and the money they unwittingly gave him. He had assembled a powerbase in about eight months that exceeded ten times what the most successful men in history had taken their entire lives to produce. And now, in a heartbeat, it was all falling apart.

Snotzenexer was definitely taking this hard, but he would get over it. Sanson and Snotzenexer would have their appearances changed, of course, and would easily blend into any small community they moved to. A quiet neighborhood where David and any future children could play in the street without fear of heavy traffic or crime. Their neighbors would suspect nothing, and would have no idea that they had well over a trillion credits hidden away.

Sanson smiled as she imagined her husband as the president of the local PTA. He would have to revamp the whole school system, of course. The results would be just like everything else he did. The school would profit, the teacher's pay would go up, and the education would get better. This time, he would do it without killing a few billion people and no one would get upset.

Sanson paused in her daydreaming to remind herself where she was. She was in the presidential suite of the Coruscant Palace, surrounded by a million angry people who wanted her dead. Her husband was totally dejected, and she still did not know where her son was. She could hardly wait for that quiet neighborhood.

* * *

Mara set the cloaked Jade's Fire down on an empty landing pad. There were two other empty landing pads right next to hers, and Mara had noticed that there was virtually no air traffic to speak of in the sky above Coruscant.

The three occupants of the ship exited on to the top of the building. They could see the palace in the distance, over a kilometer away. Between them and the palace, covering everything in sight like grass on a hillside, were millions of people. Mara had never seen this many people gathered in one place.

Their building was one of the first that was not swarmed with people. The other buildings between them and the palace were jammed full. People were hanging out the windows, filling up the balconies, and covering the rooftops.

For all the hundreds of thousands of people, there was eerie quiet. Mara could see the charred sections of the crowd where turbo lasers had strafed the people. They had not yet become so unsensitized as to trample over the dead, and the small gaps scattered throughout the vast gathering told Mara that there had been some vicious carnage.

Now everyone was calm. There had been some brief activity when Sanson's shuttle had landed on the top of the palace, but several more turbo lasers had put that uprising to bed quickly. Mara could still see some patches of smoke rising from these more recent attacks.

"What are we to do?" Ra'tok asked. "Is that not the ship we followed here?" he pointed a clawed finger at the top of the distant palace.

Mara looked curiously at her friend. He wore his visor to protect his eyes from bright light, and had never had good day vision. As Mara raised a pair of microbinoculars to her eyes, she realized how the Defel had seen the ship. Smoke still rose from the ruined engines. The hot ship probably stuck out like a sore thumb in the cool Coruscant air to Ra'tok's heat sensitive eyes.

"That's the ship," Mara agreed. "And that means Sanson and Snotzenexer are inside."

"And how do you propose we breach the palace?" Eran asked, a little sarcasm creeping into his voice. "I mean it looks to me like a million people have already tried and failed."

Mara lowered the microbinoculars to level a glare at the young man. "Aren't you supposed to be the government agent specializing in complicated insertion assignments? How do you recommend we get inside?"

Eran decided to end his sarcastic routine in light of Mara's mood and concentrated seriously on the task at hand. There was a heavy shield surrounding the entire building. Eran was pretty sure that Mara's suped up ship would be able to take down the shield. The crowd had only tried blaster fire and rocks. If the Jade's Fire loosed a couple well-aimed torpedoes, they would probably bring down the shield.

Then came the turbo lasers. There were at least three different mounts that could hit any spot around the palace perimeter. There were maybe two dozen of the turbo laser mounts in all. It was very possible that while the Jade's Fire took out the shield, the turbo lasers would be taking out the Jade's Fire. If they managed to take out at lest five of the turbo lasers, they should have a clear path to one of the several entrances to the palace.

The guards were of little concern to Eran. He felt confident he could take down half of them, and he knew Mara and Ra'tok could more than handle the rest. Once inside, the palace would be crawling with guards. Eran had been inside the palace once before when he had delivered furniture and stolen the financial records. The palace had been full of guards back then. Now, with a mob of a million angry people outside, the guard density would be quadrupled at least.

Then there was the problem of the mob itself. If they somehow brought down the shield and disabled the turbo lasers, the throng would storm the palace without thought of anything but vengeance. They would leave nothing in their path, rolling over every guard they faced no matter how many in the crowd were killed in the process. If Snotzenexer and Sanson did not have an escape route planned, they would be killed without question. Eran did not doubt they would have an escape route planned, and the chaos would be perfect cover for it.

While the three onlookers tried to figure out how they were going to go about this mission, a second ship descended quietly from the sky. The steady thrumming noise from the crowd below masked this ship's engines perfectly. It settled down gently next to the Jade's Fire and shut down without alerting the roof's occupants. The hatch opened and two people walked out.

"So," Mara said, after a while of silence, "what do you think?"

"I've completed more complicated missions than this," Eran lied. "But I have none of my equipment. I haven't had the time to research this area properly, and we have no time to plan. Maybe if we had some more ti-"

"Maybe we can help."

Mara, Eran, and Ra'tok spun around sharply, wondering who could have approached the seasoned fighters without detection. Jacen and Jaina stood calmly before them. Eran nearly lost it. He reached suddenly inside his coat for his two lightsabers, but a motion from Jacen stopped him.

"It's all right," he said with a powerful voice. "I'm not here to fight you. We've done too much of that already."

Eran's hands were gripping the two lightsaber handles, his arms crossed in front of him, when he paused. Something in Jacen's composure calmed Eran, and he relaxed his arms. He drew the two weapons out of his jacket as slowly and unthreateningly as possible. "I think these belong to you," he said and gently tossed the two weapons toward their rightful owner.

Jacen caught the weapons easily and a look of relief came over his face. He examined the lightsabers as if he were reacquainting himself with old friends. The moment passed, and he placed them on his belt.

Mara was dumbfounded. She had seen Jacen many times before. She had even paid special attention to him as he was growing up because of a well-founded rumor that the young Solo had a crush on her. Mara was twice Jacen's age, and thoughts of any type of relationship were far from her mind, but she could not get over how good he looked.

Mara had woken suddenly when the Zorian had come, and she had talked at length with Jaina about what they thought had happened. If this is what Jacen looked like after being brought back from the dead, it was definitely something she would have to recommend to others.

Jacen was the perfect warrior. His muscles rippled visibly under his sleeveless shirt, which showed off his very impressive arms. His movements were completely balanced, and his eyes seemed ever alert. He looked so calm that he could fall asleep standing up, yet looked like he could leap into action without a split-second's notice.

Jaina looked different too. She did not look as powerful as Jacen, but much older. Jaina had gone through a very difficult time, and it had made her much wiser and maturer than her years should have allowed. She seemed confident, especially standing next to her brother. Mara suddenly felt like getting into the palace to get Sanson and Snotzenexer without the crowd interfering would be easy.

"Let's get moving," Jaina said. "We've got a lot of work to do."

* * *

Victor, Victir, and Victer, the cloned Imperial triplets, were the only Imperials having any luck at all. The VCY test pilots were good, but they were not good enough. The few who were flying VCY ships found that even though their ships were top of the line, they were no match for the clones' skill or the agility of the modified TIE's.

The test pilots who were flying stolen Imperial hardware, were not even given the chance to find out they were overmatched and died within the first few seconds of encounter with the clones. Victor and his brothers had been brainwashed by Sanson, turning them into unthinking killing machines. Though they retained all of their piloting skill, they memories were very different.

Occasionally during battle, Vince or Bep would streak by the dog-fighting trio, triggering some forgotten memory. The W-wings seemed excruciatingly familiar and had to be of some importance. The clones would have broken off and attacked the two ships, but they held too much false loyalty to abandon their posts in front of the Dark Fist.

All the other Imperial Star Destroyers were loosing badly, but the Dark Fist, with the help of the three clones was holding up very well. Its shields were still very much intact, and its position in the middle of the fleet, gave it more protection than the other ships were given.

Soon, the only capable Imperial ship left was the massive Super Star Destroyer and the barely wounded New Rebellion ships crowded around it. The clones were up to the challenge. The drifting wrecks of the defeated Imperial ships, kept most of the New Rebellion capitol ships at a distance, leaving the numerous freighters as the prominent attack force.

The Imperial triplets stung the freighters as they made their passes, finding all the weak sections of their ships. The battle was so obviously won that when the freighters took a few hits from the three fighters, they quickly withdrew, not seeing the need to risk their ships when the outcome was no longer on the line.

With the freighters avoiding the fighters, the Dark Fist began to concentrate on the remaining New Rebellion Star Destroyers. These ships also began to retreat once badly damaged, not wanting to risk the lives of the crew. The big difference between the two sides became clear. The Imperials would fight to the death; the New Rebellion would not.

Wedge and Thomas saw this right away. They knew they could knock out the ship if they just brought their remaining eight Star Destroyers in close, but the result would not be good. The New Rebellion would loose two, maybe three capitol ships before the Super Star Destroyer was defeated. As long as they neglected to take that plunge, the Dark Fist would continue to unleash its never-ending wrath on everything around it.

It was like a boxing match after one fighter had won the first seven rounds. Even if the other fighter won the next six, it fight was over. The only way for the loosing fighter to win now was to go for the knock out. The other fighter knew this and just danced around the ring, taking little punches and retreating when the big ones were thrown. The winner did not want to risk the possibility that he might get knocked out, and stayed on the defensive.

The problem with this space battle was that there were not just 13 rounds. This fight would go on forever until one side won. Thomas had repeatedly asked for the other side's surrender, but the Dark Fist Captain understood his enemy's weakness and refused to stand down. The Republic cruisers still were not ready to join in the fight and it would be up to the rebels to end it.

"Vince," Perry Tremon spoke into a private com link to his lieutenant."

"Yes, sir," the pilot responded.

"We need some help here."

Chapter 22 "Outsmarted"

An eerie silence fell over the huge crowd. Starting at a far edge of the street level gathering, the change of mood spread like a ripple in the pond. The ripple was made up of one whispered word: Jedi.

Jacen led the small group, followed closely by Jaina and Mara. Eran and Ra'tok trailed, not knowing how they would be received. Somehow, the densely packed crowd moved aside, creating a narrow aisle for the five newcomers to walk. The aisle turned into a moving bubble as the crowd closed in behind them, following the group

From far above, Snotzenexer saw the crowd's odd behavior. He could not identify the five individuals from his vantagepoint, but they were obviously important. The crowd gave the group plenty of space as they walked slowly toward the palace. "Take them out," Snotzenexer spoke into his com unit when they got within 100 meters.

The crowd remembered why they were keeping such a distance from the group when the turbo lasers fired. Jacen and Jaina were ready, and with a little help from Mara, the three raised a protective shell around them. The bolts dissolved like icicles thrown into a fire, sending waves of hot air over the group and the nearby crowd. The men operating the turbo mounts faltered a bit at this unusual turn of events.

Jaina took advantage of this brief reprieve and reached out to the three weapons that had fired. She was very familiar with how the guns worked and easily adjusted the focusing devices. When the turbo lasers fired again, each one exploded in a colorful bud of flame.

The whispered ripple of "Jedi" now turned into a cheer as the group continued toward the palace.

"The Jedi will bring us justice!"

"The Jedi will restore peace!"

The palace guards around the base of the capital, were not elevated enough to see the group approaching until they were very near. They had seen the turbo laser display, though, and knew something was up. As the crowd parted in front of them, giving the guards a clean shot at the approaching group, they took it. Five guards fired two quick, well-aimed shots at the approaching threat.

Jacen was leading the group, and his lightsabers came off his belt in a well-rehearsed motion. To the guards, it looked like the Jedi waited until the speedy bolts were halfway across the 30-meter gap between the opponents before he began his motion. The guards had heard of Jedi's ability to block laser fire, but none of them had ever seen it before. Even after Jacen's display, they still had not seen it, for the Jedi moved so fast, it looked like he had not moved at all. The only way the guards knew what Jacen had done was because none of the approaching group was lying on the ground and they had all heard the sharp, staccato sound of the ten shots ricocheting off the shield in front of them.

The guards tried to fire again but suddenly found they were no longer holding their blasters. The weapons were floating quickly toward the group. Jaina and Mara had yanked them with the Force and Jacen appreciated the help. Two of the guards raced after them, stupidly leaving the protective shell of the one-way shield. The quicker of the two guards leaped off the palace steps in a dive, caught his floating gun, landed in a somersault, and came up firing.

Jacen stepped forward and easily deflected the shot back into the guard's chest. The other anxious guard stopped short, turned about, and ran headlong into the shield. Mara caught two of the blasters and shot the prone guard as he tried to get up. Jaina caught the other two guns, but handed them to Eran as she pulled out her lightsaber.

Eran turned to offer one of the weapons to Ra'tok, but the Defel was gone. On closer inspection, Eran could see the alien's visor floating in the air. The visor turned to look at the young man, and Ra'tok realized he could still be seen. The invisible Defel removed his visor and handed it to Eran. "I guess I will have to live with the light."

"I'm sure you'll manage," Eran chuckled as he pocketed the visor. "I'll keep it safe." The two turned to look at their friends. Jacen was standing over two downed guards, while Mara was firing at more of the Imperials as they came pouring around and out of the palace.

"Are you two coming?" Jaina asked, her silhouette shimmering as she stood in the shield. "I can't keep this thing open all day."

"My apologies," Ra'tok said, and he and Eran quickly placed themselves on the inside of the shield. A few of the spectators in the crowd thought the shield was down, and made very uncomfortable discoveries that it was not.

The group went to work with amazing accuracy. Eran and Mara, with two blasters each, cut down the rushing guards as they crouched behind Jacen's protective blades. Ra'tok and Jaina stood next to the entrance to the palace using their invisible weapons to repel the enemy. Ra'tok's entire body was his weapon, while Jaina used her invisiblade.

Back during the early days of the Imperial uprising surrounding the Dark Ring, Jaina and Jacen had been captured by the Empire and brainwashed. While Jacen was turned into the next Darth Vader, Jaina had been turned into a lethal assassin. The Imperial scientist had modified Jaina's lightsaber so that the blade's wavelength was no longer within the visible spectrum. The invisiblade had been a painful reminder of Jaina's experience under the service of the Empire, but she had been able to put those memories behind her and had kept the incredibly useful weapon as it was.

The outside threat was put down quickly, and the five rebels entered the palace. Jacen, Jaina, and Mara had grown up in this building, and the three led the way while Eran and Ra'tok respectfully followed. The interior of the palace was exquisite. Crystal chandeliers, beautiful statues, and elaborate display cases adorned the walls and ceiling of the fabulous entryway. Colorful plants and lush carpeting covered the floors and staircases, as the large foyer expanded in several directions toward the rest of the palace.

The decor quickly changed to one of ugly destruction.

Guards poured into the room from at least seven different avenues. Turbo cannons and rocket launchers, automatic slug throwers and grenades joined the normal blaster fire as the Imperials opened up on the group. The five rebels spread just ahead of the ring of destruction that encompassed their former positions.

Eran's leap brought him right next to a large man with a turbo cannon slung over his shoulder. Eran had tucked himself into a ball and came out of his roll looking up at the tall man. The guard swung the cannon off his shoulder and brought the barrel down like a pile driver. Eran fired both his weapons at point blank, throwing the big man back and causing him to accidentally discharge his weapon into his feet.

The explosion threw Eran into a nearby display case, shattering the glass and cascading the contents down on top of him. Eran was about to get up when he looked down and saw a lightsaber handle in his lap. A quick glance around him showed that Republic historical memorabilia that had been stored in the display case surrounded him.

Eran was yanked back to his present situation as two blaster shots exploded into the shattered glass around him. Eran raised both his guns at the guards across the room and took them out. He also sensed someone coming from the side. On instinct, Eran dropped one of his guns and picked up the lightsaber. Crossing his fingers, Eran swung the weapon to his right. The blade sprang out from the never-before-used weapon and cut the approaching guard in half.

Having fought with Jacen's two lightsaber, Eran was comfortable holding the blade in only one hand and kept a blaster in the other as he shot down two more guards and slashed upward at one who tried to drop on him from a staircase.

Searching out the rest of his companions, Eran saw that Mara and Jaina were working well together. Mara picked off any guard that showed his face, while Jaina was busy hurling bodies around with the Force and enacting deadly punishment with her invisiblade. Eran could not see Ra'tok, but the screams from a nearby balcony that turned into bloody gurgles spoke plainly enough that the Defel would be fine.

Turning to look at Jacen, Eran was in awe. He had no idea how he had ever defeated the Jedi. Jacen's two blades wove around his body so fluidly, Eran thought he was watching a Twi'lek dancer twirl about a dozen blue ribbons. It looked like more blaster bolts left the dancing Jedi than were shot at him. A few guards tried to sneak in close range with vibroblades or hit him with grenades, but Jacen leaped and twirled out of the way, each time avoiding the attack with apparent ease.

Eran did spot some trouble for the Jedi. Above Jacen on the balcony that skirted the large entryway, a guard with another turbo canon was taking careful aim with his weapon, looking for an opening. Eran fired with his blaster, but this turbo canon came with personal shielding, and the blaster bolt bounced off the invisible shell.

Before Eran could warn Jacen, another guard came rushing at him. This man had apparently lost his blaster at some time during the fight and was brandishing a very long vibroblade in his right hand. Eran swung his lightsaber with his right arm, batting the smaller weapon out wide. The guard took a step back as Eran spun around and swung a second time, slashing across the man's mid section. The tip of the lightsaber dug into flesh, and the man dropped to his knees.

Eran ran at the man, stepped on his lowered shoulder, and leaped for the balcony. Eran dropped his blaster as he grabbed at the railing and hauled himself over. The guard with the laser canon was just a few meters away, and Eran charged him. He did not get there in time, and the guard fired on Jacen below.

For all the guard's caution in lining up the perfect shot into Jacen's back, the Jedi acted as if he had known it was coming. Not trusting a single blade's strength against the large bolt, Jacen brought his handles together in front of him, holding them tight with two hands and swung about.

The guard looked on in horror, but was committed to the action as he pulled the trigger on the shoulder held weapon. Eran was closing on the guard quickly and realized he was also in danger. As Jacen's twin blades connected with the turbo bolt, his big arms pulling the lightsabers through the swing like a professional smashball player, Eran leaped from the balcony. The guard watched in horror as his bolt came back at him, exploding into the elevated walkway and hurling him into the air.

Eran came to another rolling stop just behind Jacen. The Jedi, who had turned back around after his swing, was busy fighting off the rest of the guards who had thought him distracted. As Eran started to rise, Jacen's left blade swung out behind him toward the rising man at his back. Eran barely got his lightsaber up to intercept the blow.

The sound of the two weapons colliding made Jacen snap his head around to see whom he was blindly attacking. The two long time enemies locked gazes, and Eran wondered if his time in this universe was at an end. Instead, Jacen smiled. "Move."

"Move?" Eran echoed, but as Jacen leaped away, Eran saw the Imperial behind him and the grenade that was airborne between them. Eran barely got outside the blast radius, his roll bringing him back to the last Imperial he had killed. He scooped up the blaster he had dropped when he had leaped off the dying man's shoulder and returned fire on the grenade wielding Imperial. The first shot missed, but the second and third shot took the man in the chest, causing him to drop the next grenade he was holding, which took out a good section of the nearby stairwell.

Eran and Jacen stayed alert as their eyes swept over the carnage around them. The room looked like the testing grounds for weapon development. Bodies lay everywhere, but none of them were moving. The two men relaxed.

"Where are the others?" Eran asked, referring to Jaina, Mara, and Ra'tok.

Jacen pointed his finger to the ceiling. "They went up."

"Not a bad idea," Eran replied. He ran over to a flight of stairs, jumped over a missing section easily, and made his way over to a turbo lift. Jacen took the quicker route, flipping up the ten meters to the lift. "Show off," Eran muttered as he stepped into the lift.

Jacen just shrugged as he followed into the lift. He pushed a button and the doors closed. Before the lift had a chance to move, Jacen sprang into action. His lightsabers came alive again, cutting in opposite horizontal directions in the door, and then in opposing vertical ones. The Jedi kicked out the square hole he had made and turned to his startled companion. "Get out!"

Eran did not argue, having no idea what was happening. Jacen followed closely behind Eran and neither of the agile warriors looked coordinated as they tumbled from the balcony to the lower level of the foyer. An enormous explosion emerged from the turbo lift and flooded the vast room with flame.

Eran and Jacen dropped to the floor just beneath the explosion as flame shot over their heads. Eran thought he was dead for sure, but the well constructed palace level contained the explosion better than could have been expected, and the initial shack wave did little structural damage.

"What happened?!" Eran shouted, his ears ringing badly.

"Someone dropped a thermal detonator down the shaft as soon as we activated the lift," Jacen responded.

Eran was testing his legs slowly as he rose, choking on the heat and smoke. He took a few steps away from the wall and looked up at the demolished lift. The gaping hole in the wall reminded Eran how close he had just come to death. "It looks like we take the stairs."

The two men left the room quickly, realizing they had a long climb ahead of them.

* * *

Vince circled his troops in front of the Dark Fist. Bep and Jon flew beside him, while most of the remaining test pilots were further back. Anakin, Luke, and the Jedi students also congregated before the massive ship. The V-38's had been very successful against the smaller Star Destroyers, but did not have the rapid-fire capability to do any real damage against the Super Star Destroyer. Many of the V-38's had returned to their mother ship because their power cells had run out.

Facing the New Rebellion fighters was what was left of the Imperial ships. The three prominent modified TIE's sat out in front, looking very familiar to the 185th. Behind them, fighters and interceptors moved about, anxious to end this battle.

Vince knew they had to take out the three main fighters to break the backbone of the remaining Imperial fighters and allow the freighters to regain their advantage. None of the fighters had enough firepower to do any real damage against the Super Star Destroyer, and the New Rebellion capitol ships were still trying to move around the wreckage to get a clear shot at the Dark Fist.

"Let's take them out."

The three modified TIE's met the 185th head on. Almost out of respect, the remaining fighters let the aces join their battle before attacking the remaining enemies. For Vince and Bep, it was de-ja-vu. They had fought these clones before, and neither side had ever gotten an upper hand. For Jon it was different.

The youngest member of the 185th hooked up with Victor, the template from which the clones had been made. Jon had fought him several times, mostly in a simulator, but they had met briefly in real space before Vince had pulled a daring maneuver and the three W-wings had escaped. Jon no longer flew his W-wing, and his M-wing should have given him a distinct advantage. It did not.

Victor and Jon had fought to near standstills in their previous battles. Jon's ship had been too strong to be hurt by the modified TIE, while the Victor's had been too evasive for the W-wing. Now Jon had the best of both worlds. His M-wing was just as fast and slippery as Victor's TIE and had lost none of his older W-wing's power. Instead of having an advantage, though, Jon found his opponent was flying with more skill than Jon had thought possible.

Victor had always been a stunt pilot, but had never taken part in combat before. Since joining (unwillingly) Sanson's fleet, he had fought against dozens of pirates and had opened up a battle lust that his Imperial brainwashing embraced. He no longer flew for the thrill of victory, but for the enjoyment of killing. All the other thoughts that used to cloud his mind when he flew were gone, and he was more focused than anyone else in space.

Jon and Victor's opening was very impressive, both of them seeing to have three hands as they kept laser volleys flying through the air, corkscrewed their ships, and went into a dive and a climb respectively. In all their other fights, there had been no scenery other than empty space, but now the Dark Fist offered a rather impressive playground.

Jon flew tantalizingly close to the huge ship before pulling out of the corkscrew and back toward his enemy with the Dark Fist as a backdrop. Victor had turned around and hesitated when he saw Jon's straight route. It would be very easy for the Imperial pilot to obtain a missile lock on the M-wing. Victor was slowly beginning to remember his earlier fights with Jon, and while he had not yet identified the pilot of this unique ship, he felt he had faced this adversary before and that a missile lock would prove useless.

Victor's hesitation increased as he realized that with the Dark Fist behind the M-wing, any missed shot would hit his own allies. Victor grinned at his clever opponent, and then frowned when his ship was rocked with laser fire from an unseen enemy. Jon had not really thought Victor would fire on him, with the Super Star Destroyer behind him, but had not expected the Imperial pilot to pause so dramatically when contemplating the situation.

A VCY ship came upon the stalled enemy TIE and hit it with two shots before Victor reacted. Jon cursed the VCY test pilot. "Stay out of this," Jon said under his breath. It was not that he wanted the kill for himself. He just did not want the VCY pilot to die.

Victor swung about quickly, flying right past the surprised VCY fighter. The test pilot had thought the TIE was truly stalled and was not prepared for such a quick turn about. He quickly tried to flip his ship around also. Jon saw the whole thing from a distance as he desperately tried to close the gap between him and the other two fighters.

Victor had wasted no time in pulling another 180, flying right back along his previous path. The test pilot had barely gotten himself turned around when the TIE came screaming past him again. He was getting dizzy as he turned his ship around again, loosing all the speed he had gained during his previous turn. The pilot had finally gotten around again, but the TIE had done the same and was flying at him with laser canons blazing.

The test pilot panicked, and as his ship took three hits he pushed his ship down into a dive away from the deadly TIE. Victor followed easily, catching up with the injured VCY ship and blowing it out of the sky. Jon came in behind the TIE, just a moment too late. He was hesitant to fire at first, knowing any missed shot might hit the test pilot, but once he saw the VCY fighter explode, Jon let Victor have it.

Victor had almost forgotten about Jon, but after three shots flew past him and the fourth one landed square on his backside, the Imperial pilot pulled out of the dive, reversing his direction and crossing up Jon the same way he had done to his last foe. Jon was not dumb enough to try and follow the TIE as it sped past him, and continued forward turning around at a safe distance.

Jon saw that Victor had known his new enemy would not try to follow, and instead of doubling back, he was headed back toward the Dark Fist. Jon punched his accelerators, firing his laser cannons hard at the distant. The shots lit up the Star Destroyer's shield as the TIE skimmed above it. The shots also gave Victor a good idea of Jon's trajectory.

The Imperial pilot pulled out of skimming flight and into a head on collision with the incoming M-wing. The M-wing was not there. From Victor's left Jon came flying in, laser canons still firing and hitting the TIE twice. Victor cursed himself for assuming Jon would hold the same flight line after announcing it so clearly to the TIE. He pulled the advanced TIE into a full curve, hoping to find the topside of Jon's approaching ship, but the M-wing's extraordinary acceleration had brought Jon right behind Victor as the Imperial pulled the move.

Victor was getting tired of this quickly. He had been hit three times by this pilot and had not been able to retaliate yet. As he accelerated away with Jon still on his tail, a memory began to come back to him. Victor was slowly remembering their last fight together in the simulator. The Imperial had been frustrated then too and had finally pulled a move that his opponent had not found a counter for.

Victor distanced himself from the Dark Fist, making sure his tail never got a clear shot on him. Jon closed on the slower ship quickly during the slow turn. The TIE suddenly made the turn sharper, and Jon found himself right on top of the nearly stationary fighter. It was the same maneuver Victor had used in the simulator and it left Jon with the same shot: point blank on the top rear of the TIE. Jon took it, and got two close range laser bolts to land hard on the back of the ship.

Jon slowed so he would not jump too far in front of his enemy, and like Jon expected, Victor pulled up along side him. Jon's M-wing alerted him immediately that the TIE had attained a tractor beam lock, a feature Jon had insisted the VCY techs put in his ship knowing this time would come. Jon tested the tractor lock briefly, guessing what the result would be. He put his ship in a steep dive, rotating along his central axis one revolution and then cutting his ship back up. The TIE barely stayed with him, more hanging on for the ride than propelling itself.

Jon knew that Victor had linked his autopilot to the tractor beam and that there was only one way out of this maneuver. When they had been in the simulator, Jon had turned his zero-radius-turning ship to face the TIE. When he had, Victor had executed a precalculated micro jump with his ship's hyperspace engines, looping about and coming in behind Jon's trajectory with the side of his ship to shoot at. With Jon turned sideways, he had been momentarily paralyzed and had taken three torpedoes at point blank range.

Jon had gotten into this position now the same way he had back in the simulator, by landing hard shots on the back of the TIE, right where the inertia damper was located. Jon smiled as he turned his M-wing to face his enemy, putting his ship in a vulnerable position flying sideways. Victor was ready for the move and punched in his micro jump. The TIE stretched itself into hyperspace briefly, suffered astronomical g-forces, and was ripped apart at the molecular level, something the simulator could not simulate.

Jon could not help but grin as the waves of the atomic blast from the deceased TIE tossed his strong ship about. The TIE had been far enough away when it ripped itself apart that the blast did not hurt the M-wing too much, but Jon was momentarily disoriented.

Down closer to the Dark Fist, Vince and Bep were desperately trying to loose their tails. Victer and Victir were hanging close to the pair and severely draining the W-wing's shields. The four ships were flying so close to the Super Star Destroyer, they spent most of their time dodging sensor towers and avoiding turbo laser mounts. When Victor was so dramatically ripped from existence, his two brothers suffered sever disorientation. Their minds whirled as the unique Force link they had shared was ripped away from them. Their ships wavered drastically and then crashed into the next surface feature of the Super Star Destroyer.

Vince and Bep saw that their tails had both made critical errors at the same time, and knew something out of the ordinary had to be involved. They pulled away from the Dark Fist, and saw Jon's ship coming toward them. The two pilots correctly identified the source of their salvation, but incorrectly identified the method. "Thanks, Jon. Nice shooting."

Jon had seen what had happened, but was not going to deny the credit right now. "No problem, guys."

The three fighters reformed into a seldom-used formation and went in search of far less challenging assignments. Unfortunately, Anakin and Luke had been on the prowl, and had not left much for the 185th. What was left quickly fell and Vince relayed the information to his commanding officers.

Wedge smiled, never doubting for a moment that his prized squadron could handle the job. "Well done." He then signaled to Han and Lando that their ships could resume their attack runs on the Dark Fist. It would not be long now.

* * *

Snotzenexer and Sanson watched the proceedings in the palace foyer through security cameras all the way up until the thermal detonator took out all the cameras. The couple could feel the shock wave travel through the building, but were not too quick to label the two men dead.

Snotzenexer had watched as Mara, Jacen, and Jaina, three people he had been sure were dead, had teamed up with Eran - always a thorn in Snotzenexer's side - and a fifth mysterious creature and had leveled his best men without taking any injuries. Now, a minute after the blast, Snotzenexer watched as Eran and Jacen worked their way up the palace. Their clothes were burnt and tattered, but they did not seem to have any major injuries.

The Imperial genius and been outsmarted at every turn. He had set the trap for Jade and the youngest Solo, who must also be alive, in the Hoth system, and they had not only escaped but had expected the attack enough to leave evidence that they had died. Snotzenexer had expected the Rebels to hit him with outlandish accusations that he would easily be able to refute. Instead they had used a well-organized collection of factual evidence to discredit him beyond what he could handle. They had then used his own Trade Federation, the source of most of his power, to assemble a fleet of ships that were even now dismantling his own fleet.

A small chime went of in the corner of the palace quarters and Snotzenexer went over to investigate. "David is here," he said. He had instructed the nurse to take a heavily shielded ship. Even with the distraction below, the incoming ship had suffered severe damage landing, and would not be able leave. The nurse came down the turbo shaft to the presidential suite and presented the ruling family with their son.

"Can we use your ship to leave?" Sanson asked the older woman.

The nurse shook her head. "It will not fly again."

Sanson nodded as she took her son. David's eyes looked back and forth between his parents. He was scared, that much was obvious. The ship he had flown in on had underwent a very rough landing, and David had always loved flying. The infant was only 40 days old, but he knew something was wrong. Instead of crying, he looked to his parents for help and protection.

Snotzenexer looked at the intelligence in his son's eyes and regretted not being able to raise him in a more stable environment. David should have attended the best schools on Coruscant and would have grown up to be the greatest leader the universe had ever seen. Now, he would have to grow up on a primitive world. Once he left home and learned about the history of the Republic, he would be too smart not to connect his parents to these events.

Snotzenexer could worry about that later. Right now he had to lead his family out of this building. Not an easy task with five very capable rebels climbing toward him, any one of which would be able to stop him easily. Beyond them were the millions who wanted him dead.

Snotzenexer walked over to a chest to get what he would need for his escape. He grabbed a few voucher cards, a blaster, two unique bracelets, and a cloth baby carrier. He tossed the baby carrier to his wife as he put on the bracelets, strapped on the blaster, and slipped the vouchers in his pocket. He had created several dummy accounts in which he had put hundreds of billions of credits and he could get at it most anywhere in the galaxy, but he would need the vouchers until he could get to a bank.

Sanson quickly place David in the carrier and slipped her arms through the straps. "I take it we are leaving on foot," she said as her son settled comfortably on her back.

Snotzenexer nodded. "We are going underneath them, since they obviously won't let us go above."

A shudder went thorough Sanson as she realized the implications of her husband's statement. The underworld of Coruscant was not a friendly place, especially for two non-fighters transporting a baby. Sanson said nothing, trusting her husband. She could not afford to question his judgment now. Instead she strapped on her own blaster and picked up two electric torches for her and her husband.

Snotzenexer stepped over to the turbo lift, checking briefly on the five rebels' progress. They were only 30 seconds from bursting through the doors in the corner of the room. The couple moved into the turbo lift quickly and Snotzenexer entered a code into the control panel. The lift went down sharply for a few seconds, slowed to go sideways, and then dropped like a stone deep into the bowels of the city planet.

Chapter 23 "The Chase"

Ra'tok was the first person to make it to the presidential quarters. Oddly enough he was the only one who had never been in the building before. The path had been easy enough to find, and working alone, the invisible Defel had found little resistance as he made his way up.

The nurse was still standing in the room, staring curiously at the open door that no one had yet passed through. Ra'tok smiled and emerged from his invisibility. He flexed his corded muscles as he stepped toward the old woman, his claws glowing red with blood. "Where did they go?" he asked in a very gruff voice.

The nurse fainted dead away. Mara and Jaina raced into the room from a back entrance Mara had known about. Mara took one look at Ra'tok's bloody claws and the old woman lying on the ground and scolded the Defel. "What did you do that for?!"

Jaina shook her head, smiling as she walked past the redhead, sensing the old woman was uninjured. "Did you see which they went?" she asked Ra'tok.

"They were gone before I arrived, and this poor woman did not have the constitution to stay conscious long enough to tell me."

Mara looked meek as she realized the woman had fainted and was not dead. Jacen and Eran chose this as a good time for their arrival. Mara and Jaina were busy rummaging through the room trying to find out were the couple could have gone. Jacen did not bother. He walked over the turbo lift. "They went down."

"Down?" Mara disagreed. "But the crowd is down there. They can't possibly think they can get past them."

"Yea," Jaina agreed. "They should be looking for a ship to fly away, though I can't think of where they might get one."

"They went down," Jacen said again, lending a tone to his voice that declared he was not guessing.

Mara shrugged and walked over to the lift controls. The lift was away and but no longer in motion. The panel refused to tell Mara where it had gone. Regardless, Mara summoned the lift back. It took several moments for the transport to retraces its long path, and everyone had a sinking feeling about where the couple had gone.

Jacen stepped into the lift first, looking at the controls and motioning to his sister. She obliged him and held her hand over the panel. "He entered a special code," Jaina said with her eyes half closed. Sensing what it had been, she repeated the key sequence, and the lift took off with its five occupants.

* * *

Far below, Snotzenexer and Sanson crept through the clammy darkness. Water seemed to drip from everywhere, masking the scurrying feet of nastily clawed rodents that moved about. Eyes seemed to peer at the couple from everywhere as they moved quickly through the tight walkway.

Though no one had been down this way in quite some time, there seemed to be a definite path to follow. It wound through scattered debris that was stacked up to the level's ceiling three and a half meters above, sometimes poking though to the next level. The huge chunks of crumbled permacrete and bent durasteel beams held together by thick wires and twisted rebars simulated a rocky jungle for the couple to walk through. The constant water and animal noises combined with the irregularity of the ceiling above only increased the feeling that they were walking through a wild rain forest.

The path beneath their feet started to become more rocky and uneven as they walked further from the palace turbo lift. Snotzenexer stopped, realizing that if an attack was to come from the unseen predators, it would happen on this uneven ground where the attackers would feel their prey was at a disadvantage.

Despite David's supernatural maturity for a baby, he could not cope with this creepy environment. He began to cry softly, and Sanson tried desperately to coo him. The attack came from behind. A four-legged beast - half wolf, half demon - tackled Sanson, slamming into her back. The animal's legs straddled the helpless infant as the beast pinned its mother to the ground. The beast took a moment to sniff the baby delicacy before it sunk its teeth in.

It never got the chance.

Snotzenexer blew the hell beast off his wife's back with a vicious burst of lightening. The lightening bursts came from the special bracelets Snotzenexer wore. He had the power turned up all the way, and they only had a few charges left.

A beast already in mid flight when Snotzenexer had unleashed his killing blow to the first animal, cried out in terror as it flew toward Snotzenexer. The president fell to his knees as the beast sailed over his head. Snotzenexer had a feeling the animal would not turn to attack him again but needed to make sure. He unleashed another powerful blast into the animal's flank, ripping the flesh from its side.

David was crying loudly now, the harness ripped from Sanson's back and the mother cradling her son to her chest. Half a dozen of the intelligent demon dogs wandered into the light of the couple's torches. "We are sorry, Master. We did not think you would ever return. I beg you to be merciful."

Sanson looked up from her son in shock. The words had just come from one of the creatures. Its lips worked in a very curious manner as the maw spoke.

Snotzenexer smiled to himself. "You will not make the same mistake again," he said with a guttural vibration to his voice. He raised his hands toward the wolf that had spoken. Snotzenexer felt the power in his bracelets was nearly gone, and decided against the display. "Remember who you are dealing with," Snotzenexer said, lowering his arms, satisfied with the frightened reaction he had gotten from the creature. Any one of the beasts could end his life easily, but he had them trapped in fear now.

"We are being followed," Snotzenexer said evenly. "I do not wish to be followed."

"As you wish, Master," the clever beast understood without needing an explanation. "Your path will be clear behind and in front."

"You serve your master well, and you will be rewarded."

Sanson moved close to her husband, not yet comfortable with the power he had over these beasts. David was only now calming down.

"Is the child injured?" the creature asked with genuine concern.

"If he had been, all your lives would be forfeit," Snotzenexer turned his heel on the creatures and continued walking down the path. "Do not fail me in this task."

Sanson was quick to follow, very confused. She understood that the creatures they left behind understood basic, and that they would send a scout ahead to clear the way, so she talked quietly into her husband's ear. "What was that?"

"The Emperor kept them as pets. I understand that they were his favorite means for executing officers. Plus they made exceptional guards for the lower level entrances into the palace."

"And they thought you were Palpatine . . .why?"

Snotzenexer shook his wrists. "The lightening bolts. They were Palpatine's trademark." Snotzenexer smiled as they walked at a brisk pace. "Never underestimate the power of research and preparation."

For the first time in a long time, Sanson felt supremely confident as she walked next to her husband. They would escape.

* * *

The lift opened at the bottom of the shaft and no one moved.

The five individuals looked out into the dreary underworld and did not want to leave the protection and cleanliness of the lift. Jacen and Ra'tok crept out first, feeling the least uncomfortable in the group. The other three followed behind slowly.

Eran was the only one that needed light to see, but did not mention it, guessing the group could go undetected better in darkness. It was not a good guess. The creatures of the underworld could see better in pitch-black than in daylight, and if the group carried torches it would no more announce their presence than their body heat already did.

Ra'tok understood this better than anyone, having excellent infravision. He had hunted in pitch-blackness back on his home planet many times, and while he did not feel comfortable in this environment, he did not feel out of place. "Keep your weapons ready," he growled softly.

Jacen had both his lightsabers in his hands, still not wanting the light of the blue blades to announce his presence. Jaina felt she could ignite her weapon, as the invisible blade gave off no light, but she kept it off for now. Mara held both blasters at her shoulders, ready to fire at anything that moved. Eran had holstered his blaster and held his new lightsaber in both hands. Rather than shooting at what he could not see, he preferred a weapon where pinpoint accuracy was not a necessity.

As with the previous group, the demon dogs slowly followed their prey, seeking out the week member of the group. When Snotzenexer had come through, the creatures had easily chosen David as the weak link in the group. Now as the animals searched the party of five on the path below, they could find no weak link.

Eran was frightened and unsure, but he emitted a strength that was not comforting to the beasts. Mara, Jaina, and Jacen emitted that same strength on a much higher level. Ra'tok really peeked the animals' interests. Defel were canine in origin, though the race had evolved far past their four-legged ancestors.

In the end, Eran was chosen. Eran's fear extended his senses to an extreme level, making each drip sound like a waterfall. So when a demon dog leaped from a nearby perch howling with glee, it felt like the whole city was falling on top of him. In one split second, Eran threw aside his fear and fell into the calmness that he had used countless times before when doing battle.

The lightsaber came alive suddenly, blinding the flying beast as he plowed into it. The sheer ferocity of the attack tore the animal in half against the lightsaber. Eran was thrown to his back as the blood and gore of the dead beast fell on top of him.

All around the other four companions, creatures began to attack, following the orders of their Dark Master. Jacen's blades came alive, swiping at everything that had four legs. Mara's fingers never relaxed for a second as she drained her blasters' power cells into the animals around her. Jaina swung her deadly blade about also, cutting off limbs and slicing through heads as she was harvesting wheat in a field.

Ra'tok took his retaliation to a more primal level, engaging his evil brethren in one on one combat. The demon beasts were extremely powerful, but the biggest of the lot only weighed half as much as Ra'tok, and was nowhere as strong. The dogs tried to swarm the Defel, but whenever a throat came too close it was slashed. One of the beasts jumped on Ra'tok's back, but before it could clamp its jaws on the Defel's neck, he hurled himself backwards, impaling his assailant on an exposed rebar. Ra'tok jumped away from the rubble, leaving the dead animal suspended from the durasteel rod and slashed his claws across the maw of another leaping animal.

Eran was still struggling with the body of the first animal that had attacked him when Jaina reached her hand down to pick him up. "Come on! Let's go!"

Eran got to his feet with the offered help, but repaid the favor by shoving Jaina to the ground. A flying hound that had zeroed in on the Jedi's back now had Eran's blade to deal with. One deadly swipe ensured the animal would never walk again, and Eran side-stepped the bloody body as it crashed into a pile of broken permacrete.

"Let's go!" Eran screamed at Jaina, a little bit of sarcasm creeping into this tension filled situation.

Jaina scowled at him as he helped her up and the pair raced after the other three members of their group. They ran through the underworld as quickly as possible. More creatures of varying species and sizes attacked them as they passed through the dangerous environment.

Finally, a demon beast twice as big as any before fell from a raised level, blocking their path. "Jedi," the creature growled in a phlegm filled voice. "The Master did not say his pursuers would be Jedi. All the more fun for us."

The dog jumped straight at Jacen. His twin lightsabers flashed in front of him, but the weight of the incredible beast held up under the initial barrage and bowled Jacen over. Ra'tok leaped on the monster's back, clamping his powerful claws into demon's neck and straining to keep the maw away from Jacen's face. Jacen's arms were crossed under the weight of the beast, his lightsabers taken out of the equation and leaving him with no leverage.

Mara placed two carefully aimed shots into the creature's face, but Ra'tok got in the way, and she had to hold any further fire. Jaina and Eran wanted to join the attack, but could not risk hitting Jacen or Ra'tok. Finally, in one great heave, the Defel lifted the front paws of the creature off of Jacen. Ra'tok stood straddling the canine like a small horse, his feet braced on some rubble crowding in on the narrow passage and his claws dug into the beasts neck.

The hell-spawned creature pawed the air above Jacen, trying to find some type of purchase with its front legs. Ra'tok strained against the weight and strength of the beast, as his claws slowly ripped apart the neck of the struggling dog.

Jacen took this momentary freedom to uncross his arms, his lightsabers cutting across his attacker's midsection like a giant pair of scissors. The blades cut deep into the animal's flank. It howled in pain as it reared up on its hind legs, throwing Ra'tok off its back.

Jacen sat up and braced his weapons on the ground as the demon came crashing back down on him, impaling itself on both the blades. Its shriek filled the small chamber with a deafening pierce before it ended in a gurgling finality.

Jacen shoved the dead thing off him, confident that no more of the demon hounds would come after them now that their leader was dead. Ra'tok got up slowly, shaken but not badly hurt.

The group was weary, but they hurried on, fearful that Snotzenexer and Sanson would get too big a lead on them. After a few minutes of travel, the path ended at a very old transit terminal.

"Where to now?" Eran asked, huffing between words.

Jaina walked over to the derelict rail cars, checking for a miracle. She found one. "Guys, I think one of these might be operational."

Jacen had a funny feeling about them also. He looked down the track as it sloped gradually up. "They were here just a few minutes ago and took a transport down these tracks."

"Well," Eran said, "it was nice of them to leave one for us too."

Jaina did not think they had done so on purpose. "I'm sure they took a much better transport than these," she said, kicking a huge panel of rust off of one of them. "These run on fuel, and don't go very fast. If Snotzenexer had set this route up in advance, and it looks like he had, he probably had a very new transport waiting for him."

The five did not need to debate the situation any more and piled into the small car as Jaina got the thing started. It almost did not start, and would not have if Jaina had not prodded it with the Force. It started moving slowly at first, and only got slower as it climbed toward the surface.

"We might as well be walking," Mara said, frustrated that Snotzenexer and Sanson were getting away.

Jaina frowned at the comment, but realized that her earlier observation had been in error. This car was not operational, and it was only her constant prodding with the Force that kept the engine turning. Jacen realized this and began to lend a mental hand. Between the two of them, and eventually Mara, they got the car moving at a very decent clip.

They went over 20 kilometers before the track ran out and they saw a much newer transport stopped ahead of them. Jaina had a look of "I told you so" on her face, but the sight of the transport only reminded the group how big a lead their prey had. Jacen walked up to the vehicle. "They have about a ten minute lead on us. We need to move."

The next kilometer of the trip was almost entirely vertical and the group behind gained on the Imperial couple ahead considerably. Eran was the slowest on the ladders and stairs, but even he was three times as fast as Sanson carrying a baby.

When the group finally climbed into the fading daylight they were hit by a gust of salty wind. They had all lost their sense of direction while underground, but now knew where they were going. "The ocean," Jacen said.

Though Coruscant was one giant city, that did not mean it did not have water. The huge planet had two very large oceans that supplied the planet with all the water it needed. Unlike most planets, the water front property on Coruscant was not very expensive. In fact, the area around the oceans was probably the most desolate area of all.

When Coruscant had begun to grow into what it is now, the land right next to the water could not support the immense weight placed on it by the growing architecture, and huge sections of the city fell into the ocean. Instead of trying again, the city planners just moved their buildings further and further away from the fragile coast. The result was a city structure that sloped dramatically upward from the coast, and as civilization climbed with the levels, gaining several kilometers in altitude, they left the rubble at sea level far behind.

They were not at sea level now, but at least a kilometer above it. In front of the small group was a cliff that halved that height at least. It was not a natural cliff, but the result of one large section of construction that had slid into the soft ground and not been repaired.

Even though most of the homeless vagrants that roamed the underworld avoided the coasts due to its lack of protection from the weather, there were several makeshift roads that traced along its surface. Jacen led the way down one of these now, sensing the pair they chased had done so just a few minutes earlier. The road stopped at the edge of the cliff, and the group finally got their first look at who they had been chasing.

Snotzenexer and Sanson looked like ants racing across the uneven road far below. Jacen saw that they had used an antigrav pad to get down, more evidence that Snotzenexer had set up this escape long ago. The pad was disabled over 500 meters below and there was only one way down for the group.

The cliff was made up of a long row of ancient buildings, which had been monumental in their day. The buildings had tried to crumble with age, but their size and relative closeness kept them standing - sort of. The half-hearted effort resulted in a semi-level surface on top of the buildings with large hollow sections underneath.

At the cliff the ground had given way along a coastal fault line, and skyscrapers that had not fallen into the water or down the sinkhole, had crashed into the remaining buildings that stood on stronger ground. There were sections of the cliff that descended at a 60 degree angle for a spell, where a building had not fallen completely over, but sheets of broken glass and gaping holes in the side of building would not make for a pleasant ride down.

Jacen turned to Mara. "Can you do it?"

Mara looked at the drop, knowing she would not be able to use anything but the Force to slow her down. The Emperor had taught her a trick similar to this a long time ago, and she hoped she could remember. She nodded in response to Jacen's question.

Jacen walked over to Ra'tok, the heavier of the two non-Jedi. "Do you trust me?"

"Not in the slightest," Ra'tok replied, "but I do not think I have a choice."

Eran was quite content to stand at the edge of the cliff and watch the two Imperials escape, but he knew his friends would not let him. Jaina's touch was soft as she grabbed his hand. "Come on," she said quietly, repeating her words from earlier. "Let's go."

Without further warning Jaina leaped off the edge of the broken buildings, pulling Eran with her. The former government agent let out a very unpleasant scream as he hurtled through the sky.

Snotzenexer turned at the sound and saw the other three jump from the cliff. A million curses ran through his mind. "Why don't they just die?" He looked down at his wrists, hoping the bracelets had one decent charge left in them. The cliff was over 100 meters away, but he raised his arm and aimed anyway.

The lightening burst toward the top of the permacrete wall, and exploded against the brittle structure. Cracks formed in the ancient buildings and huge sections of rubble broke free under the assault. They crashed into protruding sections below them, tearing them free, and the landslide was on in full force.

Mara had been the last to jump, and felt the first few small rocks on her shoulders before she was halfway down the cliff. When dealing with great heights, the common saying is to not look down, but now Mara did not dare look up, as she knew what must be falling towards her.

The bigger pieces fell slower as they were constantly hitting outcroppings and dragging against the slightly sloped sections of the cliff, but they still fell much faster than Mara. Below her, Mara could see that Jacen was falling much faster, and knew the strong Jedi trusted in his ability to slow before he hit the ground. Mara hoped she could do the same as permacrete chunks as big as a landspeeder began to fall past her. She let go of the Force and let go a scream as her stomach leaped into her throat.

The ground came at her with incredible speed, and her fear was clouding her Force ability. With only 50 meters to go, Mara had still put forth no effort to slow herself but felt Jacen and Jaina helping her out. Their strength lent her some confidence, and she slowed just enough to keep her impact below lethal speed.

Mara's left leg snapped like a twig when she hit, and she felt her other ankle twist almost completely around. Through the pain, Mara knew death was still a very real possibility in the form of hundreds of tons of rock landing on her head. She tried to rise, but as the rocks pummeled her body, she collapsed, resigned to die. Instead of death taking her, two sets of very strong hands heaved her into the air and carried her away just as an 80-ton chunk of permacrete smashed her previous location.

Eran and Ra'tok stayed just ahead of the falling debris, dragging Mara between them until a spinning I-beam took the Defel in the back, throwing him 20 meters ahead. Jacen and Jaina were trying to keep the flow of rock away from the three, but the metal I-beam had slipped through their concentration toward the mainly permacrete landslide.

Eran stumbled under the sudden weight transfer, and let the racing flow of rock catch Mara's trailing leg. The woman had lost conscious long ago, and could give Eran no help. He tried to free her legs from the light rocks, but had to dive out of the way, as particularly large rock almost took his head off. Instead, it smashed Mara's arm.

The slide was nearly at its end, but while Eran cursed his carelessness for not finding a way to redirect the rock that had hit Mara, another smaller one, clipped his side and spun him into the path of a larger one that knocked the wind out of him. He struggled to remain standing over Mara's prone form with his lightsaber out, daring another rock to come his way. None did, and the slide was over.

Jacen and Jaina rushed to Eran's side as he fell next to Mara, hurt and exhausted. Mara was not moving, but she was breathing. Jaina remembered Ra'tok and went over to see if he was okay. The Defel was groaning softly. Amazingly, he had no broken bones, but had probably sustained a major concussion that would leave him groggy for a good long while.

Jaina saw there was nothing she could do for him right away, and turned back to her brother. Jacen was carefully removing Mara from the small pile covering her legs. She ran over to his side to help. Jacen looked up at her. "I can handle this. Mara will be okay. You need to catch Snotzenexer before he gets away."

"But . . ."

"No," Jacen said. "You have to go stop them. They can't get away."

Jaina wavered on the edge for a while, really wanting to help her brother, but also understanding that if she did not give chase now, the Imperials would get away for good. She gave one last look at Mara's broken body and then turned away to finish their original mission.

Jaina could barely see the two Imperials just over half a kilometer ahead. They looked to be heading for a dilapidated parking garage right on the coast. The terrain was very rocky and downhill, with a few patches of real ground showing through in places. The Imperials were just seconds away from the garage, where they no doubt had another transport waiting.

There was no feasible way for Jaina to make up the distance in time, but the Force was often unfeasible. She filled herself with energy as she started to run, her feet picking a careful route over the very rough ground. The wind blew her long brown hair straight back as she nearly flew across the terrain.

Jaina covered the almost 750 meters to the old parking facility in just over a minute and only slowed slightly as she sprang up the steps that the Imperials had climbed just moments before. She could hear the surf pounding away against the man made ocean cliff a few dozen meters straight ahead and almost a quarter kilometer down.

Jaina went up two levels in the wide open parking garage until she found her targets. As the Jedi crested the last couple steps, a blaster bolt seared though her hair and sent her diving to the floor, coming up in a defensive crouch with her invisiblade in front of her. She deflected the next two shots easily, and Sanson stopped firing before Jaina sent one of the shots back at her.

The Imperial Admiral was holding her son in one arm and the blaster in the other. Jaina could hear a steady humming from the new-looking transport behind her and knew where Snotzenexer had to be. The transport was a simple four-seater, capable of elevated travel with a very respectable top speed. It was parked in the corner of the open level with a sharp drop to the water far below on either side.

The wind whipped through the second level of the five-level, platform-style garage as both women stared at each other.

"I won't let you leave," Jaina said. She had been out of the loop for over seven months while she had rescued her brother, but before she had left, she had been filled in on what was going on. "You have a lot of things to answer for. Answers the galaxy needs to hear."

Sanson slowly took a step backward, towards the transport. "Uh, uh," Jaina said, and with a motion to the machine, the transport shut down. "I won't let you get away. Now put down the blaster and tell your husband to get out of the transport."

Sanson looked around desperately. She was standing about three meters from the edge of the garage, and could see the rolling ocean far below. It churned Sanson's stomach to think about it, but she knew of only one way out of this situation. She looked back at Jaina with a determined face.

Jaina braced herself, knowing the admiral was going to try something. "Promise me one thing," Sanson said slowly as she took another step backward and closer to the edge. "Promise me you will take care of him."

"Take care of who?" Jaina asked, but before she had time to think about it, Sanson, going against every maternal instinct she had ever acquired, heaved her son out over the edge of the platform. "What?!" Jaina screamed, not believing what she had just seen.

Jaina turned to look and Sanson and saw a look of pure horror on her face. The young woman forgot about everything else at that moment and ran toward the edge after the falling baby. Without thinking it through, Jaina dove off the edge of the permacrete platform and out over the cold ocean almost 300 meters below.

If Jaina had tried hard to slow her and Eran down when they had jumped off the cliff a few minutes ago, she redoubled those efforts to speed her descent as she chased the screaming form of the baby. Jaina caught the baby and barely had time to rotate her body underneath the fragile child before they hit the water with a terrific force.

Jaina's whole left side was numb from the impact and she nearly let go her lungfull of air. Then she remembered the baby. It would surely drown in this water. Jaina looked at the child's face as she kicked hard for the surface. David had a look of horror on his face, but Jaina could see that his mouth was securely closed and his cheeks puffed out. The young woman could not believe it, but this infant was actually holding his breath.

Jaina did not want to push the baby's luck and filled herself with the Force, willing herself back to the surface of the water. They broke through the waves and both took a deep breath of air. David followed his breath with the loudest wails he had ever released since birth. Jaina could hardly blame the child and could do little to comfort him as they bobbed in the water 50 meters from shore.

Above them, Jaina watched as the transport sped out over the ocean and to freedom. Jaina could not believe they were going to get away. Five of the most powerful people the New Rebellion had to offer had chased down the aging couple, and the couple had won.

Jaina was about to give up hope, when she felt her brother's presence. She kept looking up and saw Jacen peering down at her. He was standing in the corner of the garage from which Jaina had just jumped and the Imperial couple had just left.

"I'm fine," Jaina yelled up at him. "You need to stop them," Jaina added, her arm emerging from the water to point after the transport.

Jacen nodded and backed a good distance away from the edge of the garage. He took out one of his lightsabers, took a deep breath, and ran full force toward the edge of the parking platform. He hurled the weapon out after the transport with incredible strength. Jacen guided the weapon through the Force and ignited it at just the right time.

The garage was on the side of a cove, 1500 meters across, with the open sea to the right. Snotzenexer had been steering the transport in that direction before the lightsaber tore through the rear of his craft. The transport veered sharply back to the left and down. Jacen watched as it was now headed for the opposite side of the bay, where another man-made cliff rose high in the air.

The small transport was going well over 150 kilometers an hour when it skipped off the waves the first time. It skipped a few more times before submerging completely beneath the water, only 200 meters from the cliff. Jacen waited for the inevitable crash and watched as a huge plume of water and smoke rose in the air right at the cliff face.

Jacen slumped against one of the dozen support pillars that held up the parking platforms. He had only wanted to disable the craft. Instead he had sent it to a water grave. Looking down at his sister, Jacen saw she was making her way to shore. He would have to help her levitate up the cliff face, but he was just glad she was safe. Jacen looked back at the distant cliff wall and could see tiny bits of wreckage floating to the surface. No one could have survived.

Chapter 24 "Picking Up the Pieces"

"Good evening, viewers and welcome to 'The Story Behind the Story.' I am your host, Warren Payne.

"The events of the past few days have turned the galaxy upside-down and will be remembered for many a millennia as a critical turning point for our civilization. Alexander Snotzenexer, an Imperial officer, pulls the bantha hide over everyone's eyes as he rises to power, committing one heinous crime after another until he is the most powerful man in the galaxy.

"We all know the story, and we all know how it ends. Chased by five brave individuals, striving to bring the guilty man to justice and find some reason for his madness, former President Snotzenexer and his wife are killed as their disabled transport crashes into the side of an ocean cliff.

"What most of us don't know is 'The Story Behind the Story.'

"In the studio with us today is Borrel Curtis, director and recently promoted producer at the Torenick Broadcast Company. It's good of you to be here, Borrel."

"The pleasure is mine, Warren, and thanks for having me."

"Now, Borrel, you didn't always work for the TBC, did you?"

"No, up till about eight months ago I worked as a senior producer at the Porylen Entertainment Network."

"And what ended your employment at PEN?"

"The main headquarters in Caristic, the capitol city on Porylen, was destroyed by what was believed to be a terrorist bombing."

"Yes I think I remember that. Didn't Snotzenexer cash in on your old company just a few days before the explosion."

"Just hours before, actually."

"Is that when you first started to suspect the then bank president of foul play?"

"No. I got my first hint that something wrong was going on when I reviewed some of the tapes from a holo film I was making in the Varion asteroid field."

"I can't wait to get to that, but first we half to take a short break. You are watching 'The Story Behind the Story' on CHC. We'll be right back."

Han turned down the volume on the holo-viewer as the commercials began their annoying whine. He was sitting on a couch in the presidential suite inside the Coruscant palace. Only a few days earlier, this suite had belonged to Snotzenexer and Sanson, but Han did not think they would be putting up much of a fuss about it.

Han really did not want to stay on Coruscant too much longer. He understood that the Republic was in a very delicate state right now, and they could not just leave it alone, hoping someone else would fix it. Han just was not looking forward to starting over. Leia had been near resigning her position has head of the government when Snotzenexer had thrown her out anyway, but now she would have to stay until things got put back together. Han had no idea how long that would be.

The show was back on now, but Han kept the volume low as he watched the freeze frame of the disappearing asteroids. The galaxy had definitely changed, and while Han knew a few of changes were very positive, he also felt some things would never get better.

The Jedi were well respected again, if not worshipped. Almost 30 years ago, when the original rebellion had taken down the Empire, they had done so with the help of one Jedi, Luke, and most of his work had been done behind the scenes. Now, with Luke's very early accusations against Snotzenexer, which had gotten him sent to Hoth, and Jacen and Jaina's more recent attacks against the evil president, the public had seen the Jedi fighting for them and fighting on the right side.

The work to rebuild the Academy had been embraced almost over night and construction companies were making large donations of people, material, and expertise. Luke had been cleared of any wrong doings that had sentenced him to Hoth and Han's children were being celebrated like heroes.

Among the good changes, there were also very disturbing ones. Several dozen planets had left the Republic, saying that no government should be all encompassing. After the fact, Snotzenexer's grip on the galaxy had been dissected by every talk show within a thousand light-years. Everyone realized that he had been so powerful because everyone had joined the Republic with no questions asked. Once they were in the Republic, they were dependent on Snotzenexer for everything.

Now these breakaway planets were forming their own smaller governments, complete with their own military. Republic ships were stationed all over the galaxy, and many of these ships were claimed by the new factions, seeing as how the ships were maintained, staffed, and often built, by the locals.

Han could envision many different conflicts emerging between these new factions. He did not think they would fight the Republic, but they would definitely fight between themselves. Things like tariffs, immigration rights, military zones, and countless other things had already come up, only a few days after Snotzenexer had left office.

The Trade Federation was still intact, though it was now called the Trade Organization. Most of the new factions rejected it, and created their own. In time, Han knew, the leaders of these new governments would have to accept the Trade Organization or be ready to loose a lot of money. Ghent had taken charge of the Organization, and after talking with Lando, Derran, and several other opinionated businessmen, he had removed all of the wasted money, making life as a trader very profitable.

"The Story Behind the Story" was coming back from its second commercial break, and Han turned the volume back up.

"In case you are just joining us, Borrel Curtis is our guest today. Now Borrel, how did you get involved with the New Rebellion? Didn't you have apprehensions about trying to take down someone as deeply entrenched and adored as Snotzenexer?"

"I did at first, but after talking with the leaders of the rebellion, I understood that I had to help. I was shocked, as I'm sure most of your viewers were, when I found out about all of the atrocities our president was responsible."

"It was hard to believe."

"I don't believe it!!!"

Han spun around, as the last shout had not come from the holo-program. Leia stormed into the suite, hurling a datapad across the room. Han quickly turned off the holo-viewer and rose to calm his wife.

"I just can't believe how stupid some people are!" Leia turned to see her husband walking toward her, as if recognizing his presence in the room for the first time. "Han, there are still some people out there who are pro-Imperial. After all we've been through they still want an emperor."

This was not news to Han, but unlike his wife, he had already thought it through. "And who do they want to make emperor?" he asked.

"That's not the point," she countered. "It's the whole idea of wanting an Imperial government that-"

"Who do they want to make emperor?" Han asked again, his voice soothing.

"Me," Leia responded meekly, conceding the point.

"And what is so wrong with that?"

Leia raised her voice again, trying to prove she was not wrong. "But only as a temporary fix to the problem. I don't really want the job anyway. They will look around and find some other 'Snotzenexer' to replace me, and when they do-"

"They're going to find someone else who killed billions of people by raining asteroids on an inhabited system?" Han asked. Leia did not respond. "Or maybe they will find someone who blew up his own bank, killing hundreds just so he could force a merger. Or perhaps there is someone out there who destroyed a mining corporation to throw the galaxy in financial turmoil who is just perfect for the job."

"Okay, dear," Leia said, a slight smile creeping through her scowl, "you've made your point."

"I don't think so," Han said. "My point isn't that they aren't going to find another 'Snotzenexer' out there. My real point is that there is no more Empire. The word 'imperial' is just a word to describe a type of government, and is not evil in and of itself. I'm not trying to justify any Imperial warlords that might happen to still be roaming around the rim, but I am saying that these new pro-imperial senators you are fighting with are only agreeing with a style of government, and not with Palpatine himself."

Leia nodded her head, glad her husband had taken the time care about her troubles. "I guess you're right, but that word still sends shivers down my back."

"So how many pro-IMPERIAL senators are there?" Han asked, taking pleasure in being able to give his wife shivers.

"Very few, actually," Leia admitted. "There are still only about 100 replacement senators, and with all the new factions starting, many new worlds are waiting to see if sending a new senator to Coruscant is worth the trouble. My guess is that many of the worlds will remain independent until either one or two factions rise above the rest, or until the Republic can prove itself the better choice."

"It doesn't seem important to declare allegiance right now," Han agreed, "but once the fighting starts - and trust me, it will start - I think you will see people joining the Republic in droves."

Wedge had declined his old position, giving the honors to Perry Tremon, and Admiral Tremon's first action as military head had been to recall all of the hundreds of capitol ships that were stationed across the galaxy. Not all of the ships responded, claiming allegiance with a local faction. That was an act of treason, but Perry had wisely withheld military retribution for now.

The move had been the result of a few things. Snotzenexer had initiated a meager system of taxation, and that system stayed in place as the rebels took over. All of the factioned worlds obviously refused to pay, but so did many of the worlds that had not yet provided senators. Their reasoning was that taxation without representation was unfair. Perry agreed, and withdrew their military protection on the basis that without taxation, there was no funding to support it. This inspired a few worlds to send senators, but most did not see the need for military protection and maintained their neutrality.

Perry now had close to 150 capitol ships patrolling about two sectors. All of the planets near Coruscant had sent senators, and they all benefited from the great trade and over protection. The new, much smaller, yet stronger, Republic was the model of efficiency. It had way too many trade ships and way too many military ships. It also had way too much money, for Sandie Hollins had managed to recover most of Snotzenexer's illegal holdings and returned them to their proper accounts.

The Varion system had also remained with the Republic, and even though it was not near Coruscant, and was surrounded by factioned worlds, the system prospered. President Loyran had put forth an effort to rebuild the home office of the VIB on Iom on one condition: he wanted to become co-president with Sandie. Sandie had agreed to share the position with the man, and most people who knew the couple understood that they would be sharing a great many other things in the months to come.

Han had no idea why more people did not sign up to the Republic. He guessed that after your trust had been violated so violently like it had with Snotzenexer, it was hard to trust again, especially this soon, and with everything looking the same. Han laughed at the idea of how the new government had been able to keep all of Snotzenexer's programs and improvements. In a sick way, it was good that Snotzenexer had been in power. He had made some very honest improvements.

Han compared the situation to that of Jacen. His son was in better shape and had a clearer mind than Han had ever thought possible. In order to get that way, he had to die violently, spend several months as a nothing floating in a nowhere, come back from the dead, and do battle with the resurrected Emperor. Like Snotzenexer's terrible crimes, it was not the best way to achieve perfection, but now that it was over, Han could see the good that came out of it.

Leia was also beginning to see the good of it. She was struggling with the new senators, most of which had never held a political position before, but after this mess got sorted out, the Republic would nearly be able to run itself, thanks in large part to Snotzenexer.

"I hope you're right," Leia said to Han's last comment. "I hope you're right about the worlds joining and not about the fighting."

"The one will lead to the other, dear," Han said, "you have to have both."

Leia shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it right now. Instead she walked over to where Han had been sitting and flipped the holo-viewer back on. Ten minutes later she was fast asleep.

* * *

Jon struggled as he slowly moved one foot in front of the other, almost all of his weight resting on the two parallel bars that his hands had in a death grip. Jon tried to ease a bit more weight on his legs, and his knee buckled and the bars collided painfully with his armpits for the sixth time that day.

It was hard for Vince and Bep to see their friend like this, but they knew he needed their support and not their sympathy. Angelic and Angelina, two Jedi twins who had fought against the Empire several time already in their young lives, stood by also, helping Jon with the Force. The two girls had not been the ones who had done the original healing on Jon, but after Luke had repaired the severed nerve in the pilot's back, he had shown the twins how to help Jon strengthen his legs.

"You can do it," Angelic said. She had taken a particular interest in the tall pilot.

Vince and Bep had trained the two Jedi - or at least had tried to - to fly the V-38's, but neither girl had picked it up very well until Luke had guided them in the final battle. Angelina had not liked the battle, but Angelic had thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

Angelic was used to everything being easy for her. Like Jacen and Jaina, who excelled in different aspects of the Force, Angelic and Angelina had different strengths as well. Angelina loved nature and life, which was one of the reasons she was chosen by Luke to help with the injured. Angelic loved machines, and the fighter she had flown had really peeked her interest, which was why she had volunteered to help her sister with Jon.

It amazed Angelic that someone with no Force ability at all could fly a ship as well as she had seen Jon fly. She was used to understanding new machinery so completely, that it had frustrated her to no end when flying a fighter had not proved to be simple. She could fly loops around most cadets, and she could shoot incredibly small targets without any help from her targeting computer. She just could not do both at the same time, and she could do neither half as well as Jon.

"Come on, Jon," she continued to encourage him. "You can do it."

Jon smiled at the cute young Jedi and struggled to push himself back up. His arms were too fatigued for the task, and he fell. Angelic was there to catch him with arms that should have been far too small to support the tall pilot. Instead she easily helped him back to his repulsar chair.

Vince and Bep tried not to laugh out loud at the special treatment Jon was getting from the female Jedi, though inwardly, they wished they were the ones who were injured. That was not a common wish on Yavin IV right now.

The forest moon had become a very large hospital for the many that had been injured during the last fight with the Empire. There were at least a dozen freighter pilots who had suffered bad injuries during the fight with Sanson's fleet. There were also a few VCY pilots who were in need of aid.

Ra'tok had his head wrapped in a thick bandage and underwent daily Jedi healings as an older student worked to close a bad cut on his back where the I-beam had struck him. Mara was easily the worst off of any. Her broken leg had been set in a cast, and her severely sprained ankle was wrapped tightly. She spent her days in a wheel chair, refusing any special treatment from the students.

Luke recognized the stubbornness in the woman all too well. She had been that way ever since he had met her, and she would be that way till she died. Luke knew that either he or Anakin could spend ten minutes working on her with the Force and be able to reduce her days of immobility by three-fourths, but Mara would hear nothing of it. She would heal herself, or never walk again.

To Mara's credit, she was doing a good job for having never been trained in the use of the Force as a healing agent, but she had a long way to go. If she would not let Luke heal her, the Jedi Master had suggested that she at least let him show her how she could do it on her own. She had refused. Luke had not pressed the point.

If Mara was suffering from the heaviest injuries, Eran easily had the lightest, though the way he limped around and moaned, you'd think his leg was ready to fall off. Jaina watched the display through tight lips, trying desperately not to be entertained by the spectacle. She knew that was what Eran wanted, but it was really hard to deny him.

"I'm telling you," he complained to Jaina, limping on his right leg, "I got hit by a really big rock right here." He pointed to his right thigh and winced as his finger barely touched the fabric of his pants. "It's a really deep thigh bruise, and I think it needs attention."

"Why don't you ask Jacen," Jaina responded.

Eran blanched at the idea. He still did not feel comfortable around the powerful Jedi, and Jaina knew this. Though Jacen had been nothing but friendly toward Eran, you just couldn't look at someone the same way once you've killed him.

"He's busy," Eran lied, wincing as he took another step. "Couldn't you at least look at it?"

Jaina had already examined it from a distance with the Force and knew his thigh, and every other part of his body, was fine. She shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the flirt. Eran held his right leg out for Jaina, raised and slightly bent. "It's right here," Eran pointed high on his thigh.

"Here?" Jaina asked, placing her hand barely above Eran's knee.

"No, higher."

Jaina moved her hand up almost imperceptibly. "Here?"

"No," Eran grew frustrated at Jaina's unwillingness to play his game, "much higher."

Jaina placed her hand on Eran's right shoulder. "Here?"

"Not that high," Eran said, though with Jaina's hand on her shoulder, the two were looking at each other in the eye and both were a bit distracted.

The two looked at each other, their faces only a few centimeters apart. "I have a very complicated family," Jaina said out of the blue. "You might not want to get involved."

"How complicated can it be?"

"I only know who one of my grandparents were, and that was Darth Vader. My mother is the acting president of the Republic. My father was one the Republic's greatest generals ever. My uncle is widely held to be the most powerful individual in the galaxy. My younger brother is the strongest Force talent in decades, and my brother is probably the best swordsman ever."

"He's not that good," Eran jested.

"Oh really," Jaina smiled, "why don't you tell him that."

Eran swallowed hard at the thought, but another thought crossed his mind. "Did I ever tell you what my real last name is?" Jaina shook her head. "I should fit right in. Now about my bruise."

"It's lower, right," Jaina replied. She took her hand off his shoulder and punched him swiftly in the gut. "Is that low enough?"

The punch had been very slight, barely more than a shove, but with a little help from the Force, Jaina sent Eran scrambling back. The would-be boyfriend took several steps back, all signs of a limp gone, and fell on his back.

"There," Jaina declared, "I cured your limp. All I had to do was redirect the pain."

"My doctor," Eran said as he sat up and brushed himself off.

Jaina walked over to him and helped him back to his feet. Eran did away with the fake limp as they made their way back to the dormitories. "So what is your last name?"

Eran smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

* * *

The night on Yavin IV was very serene. The Jedi students were at peace for the first time in months, and the surrounding wildlife appreciated the supernatural calm that resulted in it. Everyone was finally asleep, dreaming of a very promising future. Everyone was asleep except one - well, two actually.

Jaina tried to rock the crying baby to sleep but was not very successful in the task. David Snotzenexer was not crying loudly, but he was not sleeping either. Jaina had unofficially adopted the infant after rescuing him from certain death at the hands of - of all people - his mother.

Jaina had no idea how Sanson had been able to throw her only child off a cliff. If she had not really loved the child, why had she taken him with her when she and her husband had fled? Surely the child had slowed them down, and they probably would have left in the transport long before the five pursuers had ever even made it to the cliff if they had left the infant behind.

David finally started to tire of his sobbing, and began to drift off to sleep. As Jaina watched the young boy, not even two months old, she could not believe how mature he acted. He rarely cried, except at night when he missed his mother. He played with toys that should have been beyond his comprehension and did not play with dangerous objects that a normal child would gravitate toward.

Even without his actions, Jaina could feel the clarity in his mind. The baby was not Force sensitive, but he was the closest thing to it Jaina had ever seen. Often when she looked into David's hazel eyes, she felt that the baby somehow saw more than normal. Almost like he was discerning people's temperaments or could tell what they were thinking.

The baby was just falling asleep and Jaina was preparing to place him back in his cradle, when a movement in Jaina's doorway startled her. Jaina stood up and looked at her visitor on this quiet night. Jill Sanson stood just inside Jaina's room.

Jaina had no idea what to say. The admiral looked very miserable. Her left arm was in a sling, a bandage covered her left eye, and Jaina could see some type of wrap under her right pant leg. After watching Eran hobble around all day, Jaina could tell that Sanson's injuries were genuine. Of course the thing that stood out most about the woman was that just outside of the sling on her left arm, her hand was holding a thermal detonator.

Jaina knew that this device was already activated and if Sanson dropped it or if Jaina tried to remove it from her hand, it would go off. Jaina reached out to the device to try and disarm it, but found a very confusing jumble of wires inside the small device. Jaina thought that there must be at least a dozen kilometers of wire wrapped up inside the outer shell. Jaina could never trace the lines of current to know which way the power was flowing or which was the detonation wire. She doubted her younger brother would be able to solve the puzzle in less than an hour.

"What do you want?" Jaina asked, though holding David in her arms, the question seemed ludicrous.

"You have someone that belongs to me," Sanson replied, her voice sounding very scratchy. On top of her injuries, she had a very bad cold. Taking a bath in one of Coruscant's oceans could do that to you.

"But you threw him off of th-"

"Only because I knew without a shadow of a doubt that you would save him," Sanson interrupted. "I knew that you would save him and that I would be able to return for him."

"But you could have died," Jaina argued.

"And if I hadn't turned my son over to you, he would have died for sure."

"Your husband?" Jaina asked.

Sanson did not respond vocally, but Jaina felt she knew the answer: all this woman had left now was her son.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't wake my uncle and have you arrested," Jaina demanded.

"Because if you do, I'll drop this detonator and all three of us, and maybe a few others, will join my husband."

"You would kill your son?" Jaina did not believe her.

"If we can not be together, I, and he, might as well be dead. I hope that you can tell with your Force skills that I am not bluffing." Jaina could. "Now I thank you for saving my son and taking care of him while I was gone, but I ask that you please return him to me."

Jaina hesitated. The woman in front of her was just as guilty of mass murder as her husband had been. Jaina could not just hand over her son without thinking of some way to detain the woman.

"What would you do?" Sanson asked, seeing Jaina's apprehension. "Would you have me executed for my crimes? Or maybe you would find sweet revenge in exiling me to Hoth. You have your government back. Will punishing me bring back one life that was lost?

"I know you think that I am some evil creature not capable of love. But I am not that much different than you. Did you ever think about all the people your uncle killed when he took out the first Death Star? How do you justify that? Your own father could have very easily been on that battle station if he had not dropped out of the Imperial Navy less than a year before.

"We were at war then and now. Alex and I felt we had to do what we did. You forget that 30 years ago you overthrew our government with an illegal rebellion. In our eyes, you were just as guilty of the crimes that you accuse me of. Maybe we shouldn't have attacked the Denorid system. Maybe some of our other moves could have been made without as much bloodshed, but we were at war and did not contemplate our actions beyond how they would aid our victory. There are no rules in war no matter what anyone might say."

Sanson ended her exposition, waiting for Jaina to respond.

"You know your child is special," Jaina responded.

"Is he Force sensitive?" Sanson asked, a twinge of worry creeping into her voice.

Jaina recognized the worry for what it was and almost thought of lying. Instead she shook her head. "No, but he has the potential for very incredible genius."

"Just like his father." Sanson smiled, and Jaina lost all hesitation. The smile lit up the mother's face so perfectly, that Sanson looked like a different person.

Jaina walked toward the Imperial Admiral and saw that she was wearing a baby carrier that had been patched up. Jaina placed David in the cloth backpack carefully, not wanting to wake the sleeping child. The infant looked very placid sleeping on his mother's back, and Sanson's smile remained. "Thank-you."

"I will not chase you," Jaina said as she stepped away from the still armed woman. "I do not believe that any here, when I tell them what happened tonight, will chase you either. We can forgive, but we won't forget. If you or your son ever threaten the stability or peace of this universe again, you will feel our justice."

Sanson did not reply and turned to leave, having gotten what she had come for. Jaina watched the woman go, wondering if she was doing the right thing. She decided it would have been much worse to keep the child from knowing his mother, despite the fact that Jaina thought his mother a monster.

Sanson was not a monster. While Jaina did not agree with Sanson's statement that the Imperials were not so different from the Rebels, she realized that both sides could love and both sides could hate. While Sanson had committed terrible crimes, Jaina could tell this woman no longer posed a threat to anyone. Jaina remembered how Sanson's face had lit up with delight as David had been given back to her. With that image in her mind, Jaina went to bed and slept soundly.

THE END

There, it's over, finally, I think.

I'd like to thank anyone who made it this far and apologize once again for taking so long to finish it. I don't think I will ever write another novel length story again (unless someone is paying me). It is a lot more work than most people realize. I often wonder why I do it. Why do I work so hard at it when there is very little reward? The only reason I've been able to come with is that I enjoy it. It's a hobby, and I love the SW universe. I go back often to read some of my older stories and still find them entertaining. A lot of people have asked me to beta-read their stories, but most of these requests never make it past the first few chapters. Liking Star Wars isn't a good enough reason to sit down and try and write a 200+ page story – you have to enjoy writing also. More than enjoying writing, I think I enjoy story telling. There is something about weaving a story line with only a vague idea of where it's going to go. I lay up at night for hours thinking about different endings or whether I should kill a character. It's just something I like.

Now everyone wants to know if Snotzenexer is really dead. I think he is, but I'm not positive. But you will say, "Dave, you're the author, you have to know what happened." If you've ever written a story you really care about, you'll understand me when I say that just because I'm the author doesn't mean I'm in control.

Let me tell you what I know for sure. I know that as their transport went under water, Sanson was able to jump out. The ensuing explosion left her disoriented, and only by grabbing onto a piece of floating debris was she able to survive. When she came to her senses, she found herself floating amidst a huge section of scaffolding that used to support the planet's biggest dock network. Now it was just a bunch of corroded metal pipes and support cables. She climbed to the surface and looked for her husband. When she didn't find him, she wandered around Coruscant, stole some money, got some medical attention, and flew back to Iom. There she got more money and equipment. Then she went to Yavin IV.

Now, was Snotzenexer able to get out of the transport in the few short seconds before the crash? Maybe. I really don't know. Sanson doesn't think he did, and she would know better than I would. When people wrote me to ask for the final installment, they begged that I not kill Snotzenexer. They said he was too good a character to let him die. I'm sure everyone who watched ROTJ for the first time (and every time after) cheered when Vader threw the Emperor down the elevator shaft. And maybe when you watched the end of TPM, you weren't happy that Darth Maul died, but only because you wanted him to hang around so he could die in the next movie. I don't know what it is about some bad guys that make people hate them or love them. I imagine that if I had fielded a vote, people would have said, "To the Maw with Sanson. We want Snotzenexer to live."

So why did I do what I did? I already told you: I don't know. This story just kind of wrote itself at the end. Even as the transport was skipping on the water, I didn't know who was going to live and who was going to die. I didn't decide until Sanson walked into Jaina's room, and I'm still not sure Snotzenexer didn't escape the sharks. I guess we'll never know.

At the end of "The Dark Ring" I said I would not continue the story and anyone who wanted to should feel free to continue the story with my characters. I honestly did not think anyone would take me up on that offer, but someone actually did. Now, I have a feeling there might be a few more people who might want to pick it up where I left off. I did sort of set the universe up for another series, but I have no intention of writing it. From now on I think I'm going to stick to shorter stories like "Diamonds are Forever" and "The Game." I want to expand on the other Solo children too, not just focussing on Jacen.

Thank-you again. As always, your questions, concerns, and comments are always appreciated. This is me signing off.