Chapter 6
Triadon Imperial Garrison
A whole week had passed since Maija had last felt that brush with the Force. Strange - twice in a matter of days after not experiencing anything since her parents had died. Part of her was glad that the unwanted skill was returning and part of her dreaded it, especially now that she'd started dreaming again. She'd not dreamt since that day when her small world had closed in upon itself and she'd had to endure the loss of her family. Maija didn't dream - not in the day, where a daydream had a pleasant connotation, or at night, where they could assume a more sinister and frightening form. Her untroubled rest had been absolute
These dreams had no form or shape and she could never remember them or their contents - just the vague feeling of hidden forces at work and darkness working within them. Maija tried to sort out the confusion in her mind. Subconsciously, she still tried to use the Force even though she sensed nothing.
The first set of codes had been sent to the various cells hidden around Triadon and she knew that the first ships in the convoys had left the spaceport with their Star Destroyer escort. Then the Rebels pulled off another computer malfunction. Usually Maija was the instigator in these little glitches but Maija had nothing to do with this one. She knew they were only doing what she'd trained them to do, but this was the wrong timing for everyone concerned. It meant that the rest of the ships left for their originally intended destination. She'd not been able to contact the cells because security at the base had been tightened further with the escalation of the Alliance - Imperial conflict, and according to the reports from which Maija had managed to glean information, there was a definite escalation. The Empire didn't want to admit publicly that the Rebels were anything more than a minor nuisance. Therefore any broadcasts directed outside the garrison were too dangerous. So far she'd been lucky she hoped. She'd risked sending those co-ordinates - anything to help the Rebellion. Things were not going the Rebellion's way at all, especially with the news of an Imperial victory in the Derra system near a planet called Derra IV. A convoy of alliance supply ships and their X-wing squadron escort had been completely destroyed. Maija, her expression grim, was even more determined to find ways to help.
She tapped a couple of commands into her computer console and waited to see if the encryptions on the screen in front of her would clear.
"Access Denied!"
"Blast!" she murmured and tried another sequence of numbers and letters, before shrugging fatalistically and trying something different. This time she was in luck and the destinations for the Imperial fleet displayed themselves before her. When would the 'Executor' be at Kuat for its refit? The answer surprised her. It wouldn't. There was no word on any of the manifests of the 'Executor' or any other ships in the fleet approaching the Kuat shipyards. So where were the shipments of metallic ores and durasteel bound? Where were they really going and why? The 'Executor' was chasing rebels out towards the Ison corridor, not far from Derra IV. The Empire had apparently deployed thousands of probe droids in an attempt to locate the current main rebel base. She hoped they would fail to find the base, but the hope was slim. The new probe droids the Empire was utilising had proved to be ruthlessly efficient. So why were the convoy ships headed in the opposite direction from where they were supposed to be? It must be some construction project.
Maija had managed to divert three ships out of twenty. Not particularly good odds, but perhaps enough for the Alliance's stretched resources to contain. With the amount of raw materials on those ships, it would still be a valuable addition to their meagre supplies and a boost to morale. If what she'd heard about Derra IV was true, they would need all the help they could get.
She started to deal with Commander Fariu's correspondence, but her mind remained busy. Surely all the training she'd received on Imperial Center and at Raithal made her more competent than just to serve as Fariu's social secretary.
Maija closed down her machine and logged off for her shift. One fact still stood out - the refit story was a ruse, but for what, and how could she warn the Alliance command team that something else was in the wind? To do that properly she had to get off Triadon before they blew her cover. All requests for leave had been cancelled and anyone requesting time for a family emergency would have that family scrutinised very thoroughly. Maija knew her family couldn't stand that sort of Imperial Government inspection. She was from Tatooine to begin with - a lawless rim world which had proved to be a fertile breeding ground for rebels. Her parents had worked and died on Alderaan; her cousin, Biggs, had defected and died in the fight against the Death Star and her other cousin, Gavin, had joined up not long ago. She didn't want such facts to be brought to light. One such anomaly was fine. You could be excused one dark ronto in your cupboard but with her family background, it was a wonder she was still working so close to sensitive areas. Sure, she was being watched; they all were in this part of the garrison. It made sense and it would behove her to remember that fact. She'd found most of the holocams and spying aids, but couldn't discount the fact that there might be one or two she'd missed. Complacency was not an option here.
Her fingers lightly touched the data card hidden inside her tunic. Page had given her this one. It contained codes and a contact to get her off-world. Perhaps it was time to use it. Still, she shied away from making that final step - there must be more she could find out about what the Empire was up to. She owed it to her people to tell them before it was too late.
Then there was Nerano. Her one-time friend was now awkward and suspicious around her. She'd caught him staring at her until she'd matched his gaze and he'd flushed and turned away. He remained embarrassed over his 'mistake' but still believed he'd been right the first time. Maija assumed that he would continue to distrust her.
She cleared out of her office and headed down towards the com centre. It was fully manned as always and there was something going on. A couple of the ensigns were staring at incoming data in a complete panic.
"What is it?" Maija asked crisply.
"Oh, Sir," a tall, fair-haired man said, relief evident in his voice. "We've lost contact with the first group in the convoy. They are not receiving or answering our hails."
"Nothing?" Maija questioned and stared at the screen. "Have you contacted the Commander?"
"No… I…"
"Don't you think that might be a wise move?"
"Yes…."
"The Governor too."
"Oh… of course. I forgot about the Governor." His white face had blanched even whiter at the thought that he might have done something wrong in a crisis. "Thank you, Lieutenant."
"Here. I'll do it. You go and get the transmissions sent out to Imperial Command. I'm sure they'll want to know that part of their convoy is missing." Maija seated herself at a monitor and started to furiously type in commands.
"Access Denied"
"Sith!" she muttered. She was nearly there. She had it in front of her but she just couldn't get at it. The site she'd accessed was so heavily encrypted it would take weeks to decipher. Her stumbling upon this screen was by chance but chance would not crack that code in a hurry, and with this level of encryption it was a site that would have markers left in place to activate alarms. She'd been on too long already. One more try?
"Access Denied" The machine made a strange disgusted noise and a couple of the flustered techs gave her nervous smiles in sympathy.
'Better leave it then,' she thought and began to deal with the heightened levels of panic among the com centre staff. Commander Fariu turned up half an hour later, his face as white as the soldier she'd dealt with earlier.
"We'll all be transferred for sure. I'll be demoted or sent to Kessel…"
"Calm down, Sir. Worrying about it will not bring the convoy back. We have to search for its likely location." And they had, but to no avail. The ships and the escort frigates had vanished.
"Once the Moff hears about this…"
Maija made a few searches of the point where the ships had supposedly disappeared and, as she had expected, there was nothing. "Shall I try sending a broadcast to their last known co-ordinates, Sir?" she asked the gibbering commanding officer.
"Yes, try that. Try everything!"
This was just the excuse she needed and Maija quickly sent not one, but two messages out into the depths of space. The second message had a destination.
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Alliance Listening Station on Garva Three
"Signal coming in." The Twilek com officer whirled around in his chair to grin triumphantly at his colleague.
Lieutenant Cullen Page lifted cool grey eyes from his data pad. "What kind of signal?" He sounded completely calm and slightly uninterested, slouching in a soft, battered nerf-leather chair, his legs swinging idly. But the man was alert; he was waiting for something.
"There's a message in the data stream and what looks like a set of co-ordinates. Encrypted, but not heavily. Still, it will waste a little time."
"Try putting in 'Tatooine'."
Char'dek'hi looked towards his friend and colleague. "You have an idea who it's from, don't you?"
Page lifted his hand and shrugged. "I'm hope so. We have a female operative on Triadon. Third planet in the Adon system."
"Imperial mining and durasteel producing facility. That's why you've suddenly turned up here after so many months. It isn't that you missed our sparkling repartee and wondrous cuisine. I should be upset over this."
"You want your head tails served up next meal?" Cullen's voice was dry.
"I'm putting in Tatooine. What a name to choose. It's a hellish climate and all that sand…"
"I know, been there." Page's voice was brisk. "Any luck?"
"Nope, no luck there."
Page scratched his mousy head thoughtfully. "All right, try 'chaptor and verse', but alter the spelling of the first word. Change the 'e' to an 'o'."
The Twilek gave a twitch of his lekku and shrugged. "It's your funeral. Wait a minute... inputting now." His lekku twitched excitedly. "Hey! Cullen old man, I do believe it's working. There's a file in there with your name on it and a request for a get out."
"There's no question of that. We will have to get her out of there." Cullen uncoiled his body from the low chair and stared hard at the figures spilling over the viewscreen. Leaning over Char's shoulder, he tapped a couple of commands into the machine and whistled softly. "She's given us access to some Imperial military files, but as yet she's unable to crack the code because it's too heavily encrypted. She found it by chance but thinks her digging may have tripped some alarms." He closed his eyes for a second. "She thinks she may have tripped some alarms. I told her to be careful."
Char peered closely at the data. "Can you get her out? How far is the Adon system from here?" He moved to consult his navigational charts. "You could get within reaches of the system in about a day."
"She's only a kid." Page lifted his shoulder. Somehow the small movement signified a lot more. "She laid herself on the line for us."
"Hey, old man, we were all kids once - even you."
"Yeah, but I had a chance to be one. It's important we get her out."
"We?"
"Yeah, I could use a co-pilot."
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Maija met Nerano for supper at one of the garrison's tapcafs later that evening. The whole building was working round the clock and the Commander and the Governor had been closeted in the Commander's office for nearly three hours. There was no doubt that heads would roll for that morning's blunder. The only question was - whose?
"Have they found anything?" Nerano asked uncomfortably.
"No, nothing. We've gone through all the security files. The codes have been checked and rechecked. There is no way anyone can know where those ships are."
"Do you know?"
Maija's eyes narrowed. "I know as much as you do - probably less," she muttered. "My main function is to type letters for the Commander. What a waste of my training."
"But you have access to most of the files."
"I have access but not clearance for the codes needed. Those ships were going to Kuat. The materials in the cargo were for refits to the Imperial fleet and that is all I know." She paused, deep in thought. "Do you know anything you're not telling me?" Her voice was direct and her dark eyes challenging.
"No… of course not." Nerano answered as firmly as he could, but his eyes slid away guiltily, refusing to meet hers. He only suspected Maija of treason. He couldn't prove anything - yet.
"Then why did you think that I might?"
Nerano took a bite of his nerf steak and chewed thoughtfully before spearing her with a pointed look and asking, "What made you go to the Academy? What made you want to serve the Empire?"
Maija put down her fork and sighed. "My scores were so high I was placed on an accelerated training programme. When they were still high, it was 'suggested' to my family that I would 'benefit' from some proper Imperial guidance." She broke off. "Look, Nerano, you know all this."
"I'm curious - remind me."
"That's all there is." She gave him an exasperated glare.
"So it wasn't really your choice?"
"What's the point of this? Does it matter?" she questioned irritably. "You angling for a job as chief interrogator at a penal colony?"
Nerano stared at her in surprise.
'Penal Colony'. The words hammered into her brain and echoed over and over. 'Penal colony.'
Nerano waved his hands over and over in front of her face. "Hey! Darklighter?" He snapped his fingers. "Come in, Lieutenant. You were miles away."
"What!" She turned dark, large-pupilled eyes in his direction. "What did you say?"
"I didn't say anything."
"Sorry." Maija jumped to her feet with an "I gotta go," and moved swiftly out of the tapcaf, leaving Nerano staring at her almost untouched meal.
Something he'd said had spooked her. It was when she'd talked about the penal colony. Could that have been it? Did she have a guilty conscience?
Maija returned to her room and pulled out her portable computer. She needed to access the terminal right now. Something about the words she'd uttered had reminded her of… Quickly she accessed the site she'd found before and watched as it swirled in front of her eyes - the beautiful, intricate strands of code twisting and changing right in front of her. She typed in the words 'penal colony' and nothing happened. The usual message flashed up in front of her. If she could only think of names. Pulling out an old Imperial database source book she'd used while at the Academy, she thumbed through its still-crisp pages. She didn't own many books and this was a pretty useless one to own at that, but she loved the feel of the sheets of flimsi beneath her fingers. Listed in one of the chapters was a register of all Imperial penal colonies. Most of these were in the more usual routes travelled in the galaxy. She wanted something in the Outer Rim. Once she'd found it, she would check on its position. Something told her that, however fanciful it sounded, the Force had led her to this conclusion.
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"Lieutenant Nerano - report."
Nerano lifted his head at the sound of his own name echoing through the open tannoy. "Damn!" he swore quietly. He must have switched his comlink off. With a last look at Maija's cold, congealing meal, he hurried from the tapcaf, fumbling in his jacket pocket for the previously ignored comlink and thumbing it on.
"Nerano!" he uttered sharply.
"The Governor wants to see you now in his office."
"Yes, Sir. I'm on my way."
He strode quickly to the yard and commandeered one of the official drivers. When the Governor said 'Now! ' You moved.
He sat in the back of the covered hovercar and watched the depressing vista of shabby, ramshackle buildings through discreetly darkened windows. The rain trickled down the windows turning the scene outside grey and empty. A splash of pristine white caught his eye and he leaned forward in his seat to get a better view.
"What is it?" he wondered aloud as the hovercar swerved abruptly to avoid a small crowd of locals.
"Stormtrooper detachment, Sir," the driver answered. "They found a nest of aliens living in a human-only area. They are being moved for the protection of the residents."
Nerano peered through the steadily driving rain and caught a glimpse of a bedraggled family of what looked like Duros. A child huddled under his father's cloak, big eyes frightened, before being prodded in the back with the butt of a large rifle. The child went sprawling and the parents immediately stopped to help. All Nerano could do was watch as the Troopers opened fire and the father was gunned down in front of his eyes. Then the hovercar turned the corner and headed towards the Governor's residence. Nerano slumped back in his seat, something in his brain beginning to tick over.
"What will they do with the rest of the family?" he asked quietly.
The driver shrugged as he turned the vehicle towards the entrance security checkpoint. "They'll be shipped to a world more suitable for their kind, where they can show their proper appreciation to the Empire by helping us fight the traitors. Don't worry, Sir. They'll not affect decent Imperial citizens again."
'But they weren't doing any harm,' he thought to himself. 'They're Imperial citizens too.' "But…" he started to say, then stopped.
The driver gave him a curious look. "They're here to serve us."
Nerano realised with an unpleasant jolt what the driver meant. He was talking about the aliens as fit only for serving the human population. He was talking about slavery. Nerano sat back against the plush leather upholstery of the hovercar and tried to wipe the unpleasant echo of the blaster fire from his mind. He could be in a lot of trouble if he asked any more stupid questions like that one.
"Of course," he murmured in his best officer's voice. "It is as it should be."
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Governor's Residence, Triadon City
Governor Markieer stretched lazily in his comfortable chair and indicated that Nerano could relax his stiff parade ground stance. "I'd like to ask you a few questions, Nerano. If you don't mind?"
"Of course not, Sir," the large soldier answered as a tinge of nervousness attacked his gut.
"You've worked for me for over a year now. First on Serold and now here on Triadon."
"Yes, Sir."
"You've proved to be an exemplary officer during that period."
"Thank you, Sir." Nerano knew it was nothing less than the truth. He had vowed to serve his Emperor and had done so to the best of his ability, but the commendation by his superior still left him gaping like a nerf. He closed his mouth quickly. Nerano knew he didn't look like Imperial officer material when he stood slack-jawed.
"You've remained constant with me where others have not. Am I such a hard taskmaster?" The keen eyes glinted with humour.
"Of course not, Sir." He was quick to jump in with the expected reply.
Markieer pressed a switch on his desk and a viewscreen rose smoothly from within the desk's carved and polished surface.
"I would like you to identify the following officers who have served with you. Please take a seat." He indicated the vacant chair in front of the desk.
"Of course, Sir."
"This one?" The Governor's sharp features turned and pointed to the holo of a young man.
"Officer Laren Trubidek - he wanted to be near his wife when they had family."
"And they did too. A boy, I believe. They already have his name down for the Academy." His eyes glinted again. "And this one?"
"Lieutenant Ria Thot," Nerano recited dully. He hadn't liked the woman. There had been few womanly qualities about her, but she had been a good officer. "She couldn't cope with the conditions on Triadon. She was allergic to something in the atmosphere… and she's a woman."
"Good - full marks for observation. It was sometimes difficult to tell. She's now working on Coruscant. A very good posting, I believe." His voice was dry. "Then there's the last one. He only lasted a matter of weeks before he disappeared."
"Lieutenant Cul Chaptor…" Nerano frowned. "I thought he was on leave. It's true I haven't seen him for a while… but…" He racked his memory for what he knew of the man and was disconcerted to find that it was very little. "Personnel said he had gained unexpected leave and you never mentioned it, Sir."
"Perhaps I never mentioned it because I went to a conference on Garva 4. When I returned, I found that my ever-rotating staff has done so again. In a place where we obviously have security leaks in a big way, I find this rather disconcerting and a trifle worrying." Markieer switched to a list of data files and called up information. "It says here he was granted ten days leave. That was ten days ago. He has not returned. I find that a little suspicious. Check all records on Cul Chaptor. There is no indication where he was going to spend his leave?"
"He never mentioned anything like that to me," Nerano sounded a little confused. "Do you suppose he's in trouble?"
"I'm not worried about him per se. I'm more worried that he might be a Rebel spy."
Nerano froze for a moment. 'He was a little too friendly with Maija,' and again his doubts about the girl he'd once called 'friend' slipped to the forefront of his thoughts. "I'll get right on it, Sir."
Nerano rose from the chair he'd perched himself on, gave a snappy salute and marched from the office, his mind in turmoil.
"Could you run this name through the data files for me, please?" he asked one of the secretaries politely.
"Of course, Sir," he answered.
Nerano bent his bulky frame over the viewscreen and watched as the information materialised. It was all there. Names, dates, a homeworld and a career listing. It was as the Governor had said. He'd gone on leave and hadn't returned. Why had he not returned?
"Transfer this to the Governor, please," he instructed, and then paused. "Could you also check the information listed below? Contact the addresses you have here and do it now. This has priority."
"Yes, Sir. It may take some time…" The young officer's voice tailed off. "As you wish, Sir."
"Do it as fast as you can." Nerano almost expected there to be nothing. It looked like Chaptor was on the level after all. He hoped the guy hadn't run into some sort of trouble. He'd liked him. He returned to his desk only to find the Governor wanted him.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Have you checked yet?"
"Yes, Sir. It all looks fine."
"If it were 'fine', as you so crudely put it, then why has he not returned?"
"I don't know, Sir."
"Has he been destroyed because he works on Triadon - an important industrial world in the eyes of the Empire, or is he something that he pretended not to be? We must consider all options here."
Nerano opened his mouth and closed it again. 'No!' his mind screamed at him. 'Don't say anything. You don't have to involve Maija yet. If she's innocent of all this, I will just have implicated her in this for nothing and caused grief and possibly worse.'
"What is it, Nerano?" The Governor's acute intelligence had picked up on his Lieutenant's hesitation.
Nerano shook is head. "This is probably nothing, but…" He had to say something. "Chaptor served briefly with a Rebel traitor during his early years with the Imperial Navy."
The governor lifted his head from his perusal of a data card. "Go on."
"It came up once in conversation."
"He actually told you this?" The Governor's voice had picked up and his eyes sharpened.
"Yes - we were just chatting and wondering why Rebels became Rebels. That was all. He said he'd served with a pilot who had defected just after graduation along with a number of his class. He said it was a waste of a good Imperial officer."
"Oh!" Markieer's eyes narrowed slightly and he queried briskly, "Did he give you a name at all?"
Nerano hesitated and then answered as firmly as he could. "No, but it may be possible to find out, Sir, if you really wanted to."
"Oh I want to. We're losing information at an alarming rate and the Sector Moff is most displeased. Months ago we could have expected Lord Vader arrive to see what was happening, but I am told he is concerned with other things at the moment. However - if we don't find out soon how our information is getting out and losing us vital supplies, we will all be in serious trouble."
