Disclaimer - The characters and situations used in this story are the property of Lucasfilm Ltd

Disclaimer - The characters and situations used in this story are the property of Lucasfilm Ltd. I'm only borrowing them for my own enjoyment and no credits are being made from this.

Hidden Force - Chapter 4

Imperial Garrison - Triadon

Maija's face paled slowly. "Is it really so bad for us?" she questioned softly, already knowing the answer.

"We need that shipment. Even if you can get it to the right hyperspace vector for us or the wrong one for the Imps, then our boys can take it from there. We're desperate. Raw materials, weapons, equipment - anything. If we get that shipment it means that somewhere an Imperial project is being denied its supplies and therefore will be delayed. We gain the reserves and time. It could also mean lives, Maija - lives." The dark circles under Page's eyes seemed more pronounced, the air about him darker and more desperate.

Maija pulled open her desk drawer and drew out a small, flat container. "I've been working on this for a little while, but I haven't had the opportunity to test it."

Page quirked an eyebrow. "This is…?"

"It's a long range device. Kinda like a homing beacon, but it works on frequencies undetected by normal Imperial surveillance and scanning equipment."

"I don't think that's possible."

"It is if you have this at the other end. She pulled out another slim, flat case packed with tiny electronic circuits. "This was murder on my eyes. I didn't want to use a droid to do the work in case it was spy rigged. I had headaches for weeks."

"You're telling me that the Imperial scanners will not pick up a signal from this device?" Page's voice was sceptical.

"Not for a good few hours. By then the signal should have been transmitted and then any positional vectors changed. How far can you travel in a couple of hours once the jump is made to lightspeed?"

"Point taken." Page was impressed despite himself and the look he gave her was full of respect. "You'd have travelled far from the original contact point. It could work if you do it in a series of short jumps…" His voice softened thoughtfully as he considered the implications of using her creation.

"Look, it might not work. I admit it's risky, but if you want the information about the destination of the shipment of transparisteel and durasteel, that's the best I can do. I know it's due out soon, but not when or where. I've become a victim of my own success. The security is so tight here that it's almost impossible to find out anything."

Page smiled wearily. "And yet, I managed to get into a position of trust in a very short period of time."

"People don't like being stationed here - so they try to leave. Even loyal Imperial soldiers try to get a different posting. Pity the Triadii, who can't - forced to work down in the mines and in the factories. You're the third set of escorts I've seen accompanying the Governor in as many weeks. The funny thing is that the troops can see what's being done here and for the first time they feel a prick of their conscience. It's mainly humans who are providing the labour; they could dismiss it more easily if it was alien workers. I know that's wrong, but to your average stormtrooper an alien is a lower life form."

"You're right. Some of my best friends, worth ten of some humans, are different species. They have as much to offer as us and the right to live according to the ways of their own people. The Rebellion would fail totally without them and without people like you. Watch your back."

"I agree obtaining your position was easy but I don't think it's a trap. There is unrest in the ranks and they're trying so hard to cover all the security bases, that there are cracks appearing." Unconsciously she stretched out with her feelings, searching vainly for a spark of awareness. "I can't sense anything."

Page's keen grey eyes sharpened.

Maija continued quietly. "I'll see what I can do. If I can get the transport to the wrong place, then I can signal you using this. Be aware, the convoys will be heavily guarded…" Maija's voice trailed off at the ironic look in the older man's eyes. She blushed suddenly. This man had seen more terrible things in the galaxy than she could imagine. He'd been in tighter situations too and here she was with the naivety of youth telling him his own job. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Hey, it's okay." His voice gentled. "Thank you for your concern and I know you will do what you can. All I can do is wait."

"And trust in the Force, " Maija whispered so softly that Page didn't catch her words.

---------------------------------------------------

"What are you doing?"

The voice was cold, unusually so. Nerano stood framed by the bioscan unit, the massive bulk of his body dwarfing both Maija and Page, his hand hovering inches from his blaster

"Sith, Nerano!" Maija's voice emerged shakily. "You gave me a real fright there." She slipped the electronic devices into the pocket of her tunic, hoping that the large man didn't see her do it. Nerano had never been noted for his attention to detail, but he wasn't stupid.

Page rose slowly from his seated position on the desk, his hand trailing below Nerano's vision. Maija pulled the receiver from her pocket and slipped it into his open palm. With a shrug, Page pushed it up his sleeve. "I can never resist a pretty lady."

Maija tried to act as if she was embarrassed by his attentions and she wasn't entirely sure if she was successful. Nerano's square-jawed expression and stiff figure radiated suspicion.

"Please," she entreatied jerkily and opened and shut her desk drawer a few times in supposed mortification. "It's okay, Chaptor, he knows."

"He knows!" Page's voice rose in alarm.

Maija's dark eyes flashed him a warning. "He knows…." Her voice broke. "About my cousin."

"Your cousin! He knows!" His voice shot up. Page hoped she had an explanation because he hadn't a clue where she was heading with this one.

Nerano's brow furrowed. The pair in front of him were too comfortable with each other. Their heads had been close together, their voices hushed, as they conversed urgently with one another. Why had Chaptor returned to the Commander's office? What did he want with his former friend? There was more here than a bantha had cubs.

Maija held out her hand appeasingly. "He knew my cousin before he…." Her voice trailed off limply.

Nerano's eyes widened. "The cousin you told me about? Biggs."

"Yes," she cast her eyes down in sorrow. Truthfully, it still hurt her deeply but she would use whatever she had - even her own pain. "Whatever he did… whatever… I loved him."

Page put a gentle hand on her thin shoulder. "You don't have to…" All had suddenly become clear. Keep it simple and as near to the truth as you can - the first rules of spinning a tale. She was quick on her feet mentally - he liked that. "He was a fine pilot - one of the best."

Maija raised tragic features. "But I have to tell someone about him and I can't. I loved him and I still can't talk about him not here."

Page admired her skill. She was good. A little over the top, perhaps, though Nerano seemed to be buying it. But then it was the truth. She gave a frantic look around the office as if to check for anyone who might be listening.

"He's dead?" Nerano questioned.

"Died fighting for those accursed Rebels. What made such a good man turn?" Maija glanced out of the corner of her eye at the Alliance Intel man. "I told Nerano about Biggs many years ago. I can't grieve for him because it would cost me everything I have worked so hard for."

Page coughed awkwardly. "I served briefly with Biggs before he ruined his career and made the move that ultimately killed him. If he'd stayed true to the Empire, he might still have been alive today. Darklighter is an unusual name in the galaxy. That's why I asked the Lieutenant here if she was possibly related to him."

"I can't believe he sacrificed everything," Maija added.

Nerano shook his head. "That's what makes the Rebels so dangerous. They don't consider themselves misguided."

Maija sighed. "I suppose they consider us the same way."

Page nodded. "I think they do and they are willing to go to any lengths."

Maija gave him a hard stare. "I've heard that." She let her gaze drift to where he'd pushed the electronic device up his sleeve.

'Please go; just get out of here. You have the data and the device. Get the hell off this place. I'll deal with things from this end.' But of course there was no way he could hear her thoughts. She leaned over her terminal and effectively hiding the viewscreen from sight, began to fiddle around with data cards and sheets of flimsi. A stack of cards fell off the desk with a muffled crash and Nerano dropped to his knees to pick them up. Maija quickly typed the words into her terminal. "Go - I'll deal with your disappearance. You've got leave - effective now."

By the time Nerano had picked up the wildly scattered cards, the screen showed a list of everyday garrison stats.

"That looks interesting," he said, grinning.

Maija rolled her eyes a little. "Oh it is - riveting. Like watching an Imperial Moff work. Come on." She switched the screen off. "I've had enough and I'm hungry. Franjeer? Fancy a bite at the garrison canteen? We can do a bit of catching up. Chaptor, care to join us?"

Page smiled with the correct amount of polite regret. "No. I'm sorry but I must go and catch some sleep. I have an early shift tomorrow. But you two go ahead."

Maija hesitated and stared hard at Page. "You won't mention this to anyone?"

"Of course not. We all have things in our pasts we want to stay hidden."

"I don't," muttered Nerano, sensing undercurrents but not understanding them.

'Just go,' she thought. It was a pity she no longer had her link to the Force. This was perhaps the first time she'd regretted the loss. It had died with her family - maybe it was the link with the spilled blood of her loved ones. She hadn't sat down and thought about the fact that when her parents had been killed she'd lost her ability to touch the Force. The ache had dulled with time, but was never really gone. She retreated into her mind and all of a sudden she felt something. It wasn't much, a flash of awareness, a minute quiver of cognisance and then nothing. It was gone.

Page hesitated at the door as if he wanted to say something.

'Just go,' she sent to him. 'I'll make sure you're not tracked – well, not for a while.' Maija's shoulders slumped with the effort. It was no use. She was fooling herself. There was no way Page could hear her. She had delayed long enough. Nerano was glancing between them with a bewildered expression clouding his features. It was obvious that he was not totally convinced and all this standing around was achieving nothing.

Page frowned. He may have been dreaming, but he was convinced he'd just heard her voice inside his head and she hadn't opened her mouth. 'Just go….' she'd said. If he had heard her voice, then she was right and it was time he left. Forget waiting another twenty-three hours, he had the data and a hopeful promise of a misdirected cargo. He glanced at his chrono and affected a careless yawn.

Maija gave him a quick nod and began to gather her things. A small case, a couple of stray data pads and her cloak tossed carelessly over a hook in the corner of the sterile grey office.

"I'll just go, Nerano," Page murmured and watched carefully as Maija froze in the act of placing her cloak about her slim shoulders.

Had he echoed her words? Had he heard her after all?

"See you again," she threw the words nonchalantly in his direction.

"I hope so."

***********************************************

Cullen Page made his way carefully to his temporary quarters and threw his meagre belongings into his carryall. One thing about his job, you learned to travel light. He rolled up a couple of data cards and Maija's device inside a pair of socks and shoved them well down into his pack. There was no question in his mind that it would work and she would be able to explain his unexpected absence. He had definitely heard her voice in his head and if he returned to Alliance HQ in one piece, he would certainly delve deeper into her background.

He heaved his pack onto his strong shoulders and, merging in with the rest of the thousands of troops stationed on Triadon, vanished into the crowd waiting for transport to the spaceport.

The spaceport was unusually confused. It seemed as if hundreds of people milled about aimlessly, tripping over abandoned belongings and even the odd sleeping passenger.

"Typical!" a woman's voice grumbled. "Another power failure and the back-ups failed. I was supposed to leave last night and nothing got out."

"It's too bad," her companion agreed.

"Excuse me?" Page asked politely. "I couldn't help overhearing. There was another power failure?"

"Yes, nothing got out last night and all the transports are well behind. Only military personnel and supply vehicles. It might be another day before we can leave. I'm supposed to be meeting my husband on Esseles."

"This is unfortunate. I'm on leave and I only get ten days. This would have to happen. Thank you, ladies." He tipped them a salute and disappeared into the throng.

'Blast!' he thought to himself. 'I'll just have to get off another way.' He carefully headed towards the area where the supply ships were berthed. The usual motley collection of souped-up, top-of-the-range speed machines and old tramp freighters.

A man turned and cast a keen eye over the nondescript Imperial soldier and then his face lit up in a merry grin. "Well, well. Would you credit it?" He pulled out a comlink and spoke hurriedly into it before strolling towards the Imperial. "Hey buddy! Looking for a ship?"

Page swung around, his hand reaching automatically for the weapon he kept in a low-slung holster. The man held his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. "Kinda nervous, Sir?"

Page's jaw hung open for a second. "Spuhr! Velten Spuhr. What the Vader are you doing here?"

"Refuelling and dropping the odd cargo. Checking ship movements. That sort of thing."

Page started to laugh as he took in the other's cheerful soot-stained countenance. "You've just saved me some time." Spuhr was another of General Airen Cracken's Intel operatives. "I could use a lift." He raised his voice a little. "I've got some leave - need to head out system and catch a transport to Coruscant. Haven't seen my father in a long time." Page grimaced inwardly. That part was true. His father had probably disowned him years ago - might not even recognise what he'd become - a man with his own, better ideals. Not someone caught up in the selfishness and twisted evil that the Empire had become.

"I'll pay extra if it saves me having to wait till tomorrow for the regular transport. I didn't realise you were hauling supplies for the Empire out here."

"The Empire has done a lot for me. I do my bit to repay them." Spuhr's voice was genial but his eyes were cold. The cruelty and the evil of such a regime had hurt too many people. Spuhr was doing his bit all right. He was trying to get back at the Empire who had killed his wife and left his children motherless and effectively without a father. Spuhr, too, was on the wanted dockets for desertion and treason. He was beyond caring what he was wanted for. He had a job to do and like Cullen Page, he was good at it. "Sure, I can fit you in - no problem. I have a small shipment of durasteel to take back to Galactic City. An extra paying passenger will really make it worth my while. "

"Thanks."

They cleared the system with surprising ease and without too much waiting around either. The port authorities were in a desperate hurry to clear space.

"They're expecting some very big transport carriers shortly. Something's up."

Cullen sighed. "I know what it is, Velten, and I've left it in the hands of one of our planetside operatives."

"I didn't know we had operatives planetside."

"We do and it's 'operative'. She's managed to link with the local rebel cell, so she has some support but they are inexperienced and she is very young. Bright, but young; practically a child."

"We were all like that once, Cullen. I bet she doesn't feel young. She'll feel as old as her grandfathers were. I know I do."

Cullen agreed with a tired nod and followed his long-time colleague to the cramped bunk he'd been given. That was one of the reasons things were so wrong with the Imperial view of things. The young woman he'd just left with her cold, oddly detached air hadn't had a childhood. All she knew was the greyness of serving the Empire and the despair she'd experienced with the death of her family. Pulling off the Imperial tunic, he dressed himself in dark tunic and pants. "It's good to get out of that uniform. I seem to be wearing it more than I do my Alliance one."

"So what's the desperate hurry to clear the supply vessels and couriers?"

"The Executor and other ships in the Imperial fleet are due to come in for extensive refits over the next few months. There is a big push to try and squeeze the Rebellion. We're short of everything and cannot compete in an all-out fight against an enemy with access to unlimited raw materials. I get the feeling something else is up, but I can't find out anything. Cracken have any ideas that you might be privy to?"

"Not that we know of."

"Anyway - the place is being cleared so the cargo ships can come in and load. Our operative means to thwart their plans in some way."

Spuhr pursed his lips in a soundless whistle of admiration. "I suppose you want to send a communication to the old man?"

"I don't think the General will appreciate the nickname, Velten old chap. But yes, I do."

"This is only the first of a series of short hyperspace jumps. Just to put anyone off our tail. We don't want anybody tracking this ship." Velten smirked.

"She's faster than she looks." Page ran an admiring eye over her specs.

"That's the general idea. Don't want to advertise what we are, do we?"

The two men shared a grin of comradeship before Page tugged a thick bantha-wool jumper over his head. "I wonder if General Cracken knows exactly where the Executor is?" The words came out a little muffled as Page struggled to pull his head free of the jumper.

"Last I heard, she was out on the Rim trying to hunt Rebels. Or Luke Skywalker in particular."

"Where's Luke?" Cullen grabbed his belt and holster and started to reattach it, then ran his hand carelessly over his hair. Flat was about the only thing that could be said in its favour. The Imperial haircut had never suited him.

"He was on Hoth, last I heard. Keeping his head down and learning how to run an X-wing squadron."

"I heard they'd given him charge of one. 'Bout time too. He's made Lieutenant-Commander now. I never understood for the longest time why he refused the promotion earlier. Not until Cracken explained it. Luke, being Luke, wanted time to learn and it gave him a bit of time to come to terms with what happened in his life. Force knows we've all had it hard. How's Eris?"

Spuhr's eyes misted a little as Cullen mentioned his daughter. "Growing like a Wookiee and missing me."

Luke still has this…" he searched for a word. "Innocence. All he ever wanted to do was fly."

"Luke's a natural leader and an all-round nice guy. He's not cocky or stuck up, like some folk are. He thinks anyone could have blown up the Death Star and he was just the right guy at the right time."

"Right." Cullen rolled his eyes. He liked Luke - a bit of a dreamer, but he'd never seen anyone fly like the former farmboy. Luke flew as if his soul and his fighter were intertwined.

"Have you seen the Imperial wanted lists? Luke's at the top of their list. Blow up the Death Star and you become galaxy wide famous. I've never seen so much money offered for a capture - more than for anyone else in the entire Rebellion. They want him more than they want Mon Mothma or Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan."

Page paused in the act of putting his blaster back in its holster. "So it's become common knowledge that he was the one to blow the battleship moon." He looked up at Spuhr. "Did you know they want more for him alive than dead?"

Spuhr shivered. "I hope the boy can live with that."

"He has to, but it's a heavy burden for him to carry."

There was an awkward silence.

"Where you headed?" Spuhr asked.

"Darlyn Boda," Page murmured softly. "Imperial held, but badly run. Poor security. They don't care out there and it has the best underground of any Imp world. From there I can get transport to anywhere I'm needed to go - even Hoth if I have to, but I don't think Cracken wants me there. There are other things in the wind. What about you?"

"We head towards the Corellian system to pick up a couple of scientists. They worked for a ship building company. Didn't like when the Empire took their designs from them without paying. Well - when I say without paying, I mean they weren't too keen on working in a secured facility with their families held as hostage. They're offering the designs the Empire didn't get for free. We got their families out and now we're going to collect them."

The comm crackled. "Preparing for lightspeed, Sir," the disembodied voice of Spuhr's pilot informed them.

"Thanks, Davi. Hit it."

*******************************************************************************

Triadon

Nerano shoved his steak into his mouth with all the fervour of a jawa finding a working piece of machinery in the desert.

Maija stopped eating and gave him an amused look, her fork hovering halfway to her mouth.

"What!" he demanded.

"You're hungry, that's all. Nothing's changed then."

"I'm a big guy. In this job you never know when the next tapcaf will show up and serve a decent meal."

Maija shook her neatly coiffed dark head. "You're attached to the Governor's staff-surely you eat in the better class places. Think about the… the… Rebels for example. Do you think they're eating well?"

"I don't care about them, unless I'm in a position to end their cruelty and destruction. They're criminals - terrorists."

Maija felt her indignation rising but what could she do? Nerano wasn't evil. He was a well-disciplined, totally loyal, brainwashed Imperial soldier. "Okay - forget about them. What about the Triadii?"

"The who?"

"The Triadii. The people living on this planet… Have you seen the conditions they're living and working in?" Maija's voice rose slightly as she tried to reach her one time friend. She caught herself in time and dropped her voice down to an impassioned murmur. Abruptly, she pushed away her plate. "You can't call them 'Rebels' - they're working for us."

Nerano gave her a strange look. "They're citizens of the Empire," he said, as if that answered all her questions and made perfect sense.

"Did they ask to be?"

"What's up with you?"

She scrunched up her napkin and threw it down upon her almost untouched plate. "I'm not hungry. Not anymore."

"You've changed, little Darklighter."

"I'm not a little girl any longer. I've grown up," her voice was hard. "So have you. Very much the Imperial soldier."

"That sounded almost like an insult. You talk as if it was a bad thing."

Maija opened her mouth to give a reply and then snapped it shut, her eyes growing cold and hard.

Nerano speared an orange vegetable with his knife, before narrowing his eyes at it, his brow furrowing deeply in thought. "I know you're bright, little D.," he said softly, "but talking as if you sympathise with the Rebels isn't smart. If anyone heard you speaking that way, you could lose everything you ever worked for. Lord Vader has executed men on the spot for less."

Governor's Office, Triadon City

Governor Markieer perused the figures displayed on the datareader on his desk, with a frown. The interview with the garrison commander had told him little. Only that the man was at his wits end about what to do. The security measures had been tightened and yet information was still getting out, while highly important security protocols were being breached as easily as if they were made of sand. They were just blown away. Secure installations suffered sabotage and the power grids blew on almost a daily basis. He had informed the beleaguered Fariu that a curfew on all Triadii citizens was to be imposed. Nothing was ever seen. No one knew anything. He had reluctantly come to the conclusion that the information was getting out from within the Imperial offices. It was an inside job.

Markieer tightened his thin lips. Fariu wasn't the only one frightened about his position in the Empire. The Emperor had many spies and would not stand for such incompetence. The project they were about to embark upon was going to use all their resources. He could not fail in this - he had no choice. The Empire had many ways of punishing failure. They were about to play for the highest stakes and would crush the rebellion forever.

In any occupation of a world there was bound to be some resistance, no matter how hard they cowed the population, but the Triadii had been fairly pathetic to start with. In this he had been mistaken or they were obviously not crushed enough. He knew there were Rebel cells. He knew where most of them were - they were not behind this annoyance. His agents had established that much. Someone else was organising things, but he could use the original cell members to bring the real culprits forward. They were being used as a front for the real operations. Whoever was now in charge of the rebels had them well trained and covering their tracks. For the first time he found himself unable to locate the perpetrators of the crimes. So they were better organised, better trained and far more successful than they had ever been. He had to stop that trend from continuing.

If he could find the person responsible he might resort to some public executions. The Imperial top Brass might insist on such measures, although he was generally against them. It didn't always work in his favour. He hesitated to push the Triadii any further than he had. Hellish conditions on a deteriorating planet with a crumbling eco-system for second rate food and little pay. The Triadii couldn't quite see the glory of the Empire at this moment in their history. He picked up the datareader and glanced over the figures for the bioscan in the commander's office. Something wasn't quite right about them. They should correspond with the holofootage and they didn't… With a suddenness that was totally unnerving, the lights went out.

"Vader's mask!" he swore loudly into the blackness and heard the squeals and frantic fumblings as his staff tried to find the back up sources. Why weren't the secondary power generators kicking in? A muffled crash echoed along the corridor. Someone had tripped over something; he could hear other muffled curses and shouts. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. There was nothing he could do just now. Let others panic and curse; he had something to try and figure out. He had just been given his first clue. He could wait - not long, but he could wait.

"Sir, are you okay?" A hesitant voice shone a torch directly into his face. Markieer held his hand up as his eyes reacted to the shock of the light.

"I'm fine. Why aren't the secondary back-ups kicking in? What about the standby grids in engineering?"

"We… we don't know, Sir. Everything crashed. The engineers are working on it. Everything's down."

"Everything!" He sat up abruptly, squinting into the line of the torch beam. "Everything?"

Yes, Sir. The whole city is in darkness."

Enough was enough.

**************************************************************

With the entire city in darkness, Maija crept from her quarters and vanished towards the speeder pool. Ahead of her she could hear irate voices and see torches flashing with the dual purpose of signalling and illumination. With a small sound of satisfaction, her fingers closed around her trusty glow rod. It had been one her father had given her and it had an extended life before it needed recharging. She slipped the power cells into the luma and quickly found the speeder she'd purposely moved earlier. No one stopped her as she left the garrison and headed towards the outskirts of the silent city. Then, like a great fire on a hill or the rising sun in the morning, the garrison's power flared back to life. The rest of the city was still in darkness, but they'd got the power working at the base. She smiled with cold satisfaction. It had taken them longer than she'd thought it would.

She drove towards the outskirts of the city. The buildings this far out were ramshackle and depressing. In the total darkness they appeared as silent, threatening shapes. Maija tried to focus. She'd been out here many times in the last few months, but in the darkness it was difficult to get her bearings. Nonetheless she was in the right place. The rusting broken gates and dilapidated signs heralded an old used speeder lot. She pulled out her luma and waved it in an anticlockwise arc three times. Another light flickered on and off.

"Jorek?" she whispered. "It's Jamia."

The thin man smiled tiredly and took the keys to her speeder. "Okay, Jamia. The power only went down above, not below."

"Good," she murmured. He hustled her into a protective structure and handed her a pile of dark clothing, the kind of thing a typical Triadii factory worker might wear, plus a data card. Maija pulled off her Imperial Uniform and slipped into the crumpled apparel.

Emerging from the hut dressed in her new disguise, she watched as Jorek limped across the uneven ground and bent stiffly over another speeder. This one looked far more battered than the imperial issue one she'd been using, but this one had extras and was disguised to look rough. The engines were highly souped up and humming. The inevitable rain fell on her face and she felt a slight stinging on her skin. 'Acidic,' she thought. No wonder her nearly new speeder was rusting already. She hastily pulled on her breath mask and protective outer clothing before climbing into the machine. "I won't be long tonight. They're really suspicious back there and if it's known I was missing for any time… be careful."

"You too, Jamia, and may the Force be…"

"I know." She hit the throttle and headed out into the unwelcoming night.

After what seemed like an age driving in the dark, she reached what resembled one step up from a metal scrapyard. Ghostly twisted shapes of misshapen metal rose threateningly wherever she drove and the whole place was a trap for the unwary and unprepared. The rain dribbled down the transparisteel bubble enclosing her head, but she could see the small hiss of escaping gas as the rain hit the structures. Eventually, they would all disintegrate into nothing but a red-brown sludge that would poison the ground and make it unfit for anything. Nothing grew here any more, but the Empire didn't care.

Maija switched on her com and gave a careful click. After waiting for a few more seconds, she clicked twice more. The silence pressed in upon her as she waited and with a sigh of relief, she heard an answering two clicks. She held up her luma and again waved it three times in an anti-clockwise arc. With a barely perceptible hiss, a series of interlocking metal gates slid aside and led her deeper into a sinister metal maze. As the speeder reached one section, there would be the click and a spot of a laser beam and another set of gates slid aside.

'Finally.' She breathed a sigh of relief as a simple structure came into view. Two burly men came out and guided her into the interior of the structure. They knew who she was, but it still didn't make them loosen the grasp they had on their blaster rifles. In their place she would be doing exactly the same and her own hand slid to the holster at her waist and felt the smooth, comforting, cold security of her own weapon.

"Evening, Miik." She slipped from the speeder and gave the older of the two men a nod.

"Jamia."

"Petr."

"Jamia."

They were men of few words and they would not risk the short time they had by engaging in small talk. They'd gone far beyond that. Maija headed down a corridor and found a young boy waiting beside a turbolift door. He was probably the same age as she was, but she felt older - a lot older.

"Jamia!" His smile was warmer and his voice more enthusiastic. This Rebellion was still a game to him. Until he witnessed his first death close at hand, he would not understand. He hadn't held a dying man in his arms and witnessed the lifeblood draining from his twitching body until there was nothing left.

"Rorri – it's good to see you. Are they…?"

"They're expecting you." He smiled and she gave him one in return before pressing the call for the turbo lift to arrive.

"Level 8."

All the secrecy and creeping about still unnerved her at times and she'd been doing this since before she could remember. She had never not been secretive - there had always been something to hide. At first she'd thought the Rebel cell on Triadon was too unimportant for her to worry about but she'd been wrong. They were good people trying to do what they could for their own kind. She'd thought that they were in love with the idea of being Rebels and all the secrecy was a little too much. Still, these people were still alive and that told Maija quite a lot. They'd also listened to her and treated her with respect. It couldn't have been easy for them to believe that she was able to help them. She knew she looked her age but they had listened to her and had reorganised themselves into a better unit. The damage they'd done over the past two weeks had been considerable. Production had slowed almost to a standstill and the Imperial Masters were getting obviously twitchy.

Maija couldn't shake the feeling that this shipment was more important than they'd surmised. Every factory had been working double, even triple the shifts until the power grids had started to break down. But now was not the time to consider it.

"Jamia!" A good-natured roar greeted her as she walked into a brightly lit room filled to overflowing with sophisticated electronic machinery.

"Krupek." She acknowledged the middle-aged man sitting in front of a large viewscreen with a small smile. "Anything?"

A tall woman with piercing violet eyes and untidy greying hair popped out suddenly from behind a large bank of auditory equipment. Most of it, Maija's eyes flickered with dark amusement, borrowed from the Empire.

"We had a city-wide shut down, including the secondary generators." She beamed with pride at Krupek.

"Apart from here of course?" Maija's voice was laced with dry amusement.

"Of course," Krupek grinned at his companion. "We had to monitor the problem. The hospital also didn't lose power. Lhindalka is clever with such things. Why should the sick suffer more than they already do?"

"True."

"The Governor?" Krupek asked.

"Should be well displeased."

"We wiped all the data in his computer's short-term memory core. We couldn't do any more than that." Lhinda shrugged bony shoulders.

"It gives us a couple of days, though." Maija sat on an old wooden stool. "Is the shipment completed?"

"More or less. They plan to start loading once the power is back on." Lhinda knew they had done what they could. It still might not be enough.

"So it still gives us another couple of days."

Krupek nodded. "At the most, yes."

"Our sources will be able to tell us exactly when it is completed and when it has been loaded onto the ships. I believe they arrived tonight."

"Great." Maija slumped down further on the stool. "We need to know exactly when it leaves and where it is going…"

"So that we can send it somewhere else - right?"

An unwilling chuckle escaped Maija's lips. She glanced over at the older woman. "Does your husband know you practice such wickedness against the Empire, Lhinda?"

Krupek gave a hearty bark of laughter and drew his companion to his side. "My Lhindalka is a clever woman. Of course her husband knows. It was he who suggested it after all."

Maija watched the couple banter and a pang went through her. She briefly thought about her parents…. They'd behaved in exactly the same way. Finding amusement even in such difficult times. They'd had to - it was the little moments like this that kept them sane. It was trying to find normality in an unreal world where everything moved too quickly out of your control.

Maija twisted around on her stool and watched a couple of displays on the monitors. "We're going to have major problems here after this, you know. The commander was talking curfews and moving all important power sources onto different grids and having them guarded at all times. Up until now, no disrespect to your good selves, the Triadii have been pushovers. It's not your fault. You had no army, no defences and when the Empire rolled in there was nothing you could have done. But now your planet is dying and so are your people and unless we stop continuous production now - that will happen."

Krupek's merry face lost its happy expression and tired lines appeared on his forehead. "We know. It's too late for Triadon but we have to make the people see that it cannot be allowed to happen anywhere else. We cannot walk in the open air without a breathing mask and air filter. We cannot let the rain fall on our skin because it blisters and burns. Our successes here are going to change things, but not necessarily for the better. We've only got away with so much because we put up no opposition to Imperial occupation. They think it's been lucky strikes."

Maija took a deep breath. "It could mean purges."

"Purges!" Lhinda's face blanched. "Would they go that far?"

"I'm not sure, but this shipment is very important. Far too important to be tidying up a few capital ships. I get the feeling the Empire is planning something big. I don't know what, but I just get the feeling…" She rubbed a grimy hand over her face leaving a dirty streak across a pale cheek. "I just want to prepare you for the worst. Rorri still thinks it's a game."

"He won't soon," Lhinda muttered, her face as white as Maija's.

"Do we still have people at the spaceport?" Maija strove to return them to the task at hand. Dwelling on what might happen could wait.

Lhinda grinned. "We have enough, but most of the loading is now being handled by Imperial personnel only."

"I know that - but if they're in a hurry to load - you never know, they might use them after all."

Krupek gave Maija an approving smile. "Good thinking, little Lieutenant. We'll check it out."

"Even if they just use Imp personnel, the order is so big that it is bound to be visible when they're loading. You can't hide an operation that big."

"There is a gap in the logs and orders." Lhinda pointed to a list on one of the viewscreens. "I think that's when our shipment goes. The gap seems deliberate. No outside ships, unless cleared, have permission to dock at the spaceport."

Maija felt a vague feeling of panic flutter somewhere in her stomach. They had so little time and she had to get that shipment moved and then warn Page where to pick it up. "They are already preparing, but it's no use unless I can tell them where."

Krupek whistled soundlessly. "That's a tough one."

"I have an idea."

Lhinda nodded with satisfaction. "I thought you might."

"Can you get your friends at the spaceport to programme all their vectors one or two degrees out?"

"I think so."

"Leave the Imperial navicomputers to me. If I can do the same then…"

"Everytime they make a hyperspace jump…"

"They will be in the wrong place completely."

"That's the idea."

"You be careful, young one."

"I will, but I'm only going to have seconds to hack into the Imperial navicomps databases."

"We'll arrange a diversion?"

Maija grinned and pulled out a data card. "This is from Jorek. Some disrupter codes to the Chitipek factories. That enough?"

"It's hard to have to rely on our former employees to gain access codes to what was once our own factories." For the first time a hint of bitterness entered Lhinda's voice.

"We couldn't let you risk it and you know it. You're both too valuable to the Rebellion to endanger. You must be the first people they check and discount when things go wrong at Chitipek. If we succeed in that, then your cover is still safe. The people at those factories are still your people - not the Empire's. They'll do this because you ask them to."