Chapter One

LOGIN Captain Jonathan Transon

ID NUMBER 240962

CLEARENCE CODE 370ALPHA1

PROGRAM PROMPT JRNL/59641

PASSCODE * * * * *

Man, I hate these computers. Sorry, J'ai, you're the AI, not the computer. Oh, nevermind. A man of my age should know how to use this technology.

We launched today. The guys had been placing bets on whether or not the /Sentinel/ would fly again. What I /didn't/ tell them was that ol' /Senty/ had a complete interior makeover. She looked the same on the outside, but she's as good as new on the inside. I will tell them I don't need their money when we get back. /If/ we get back.

Right now I'm going to do a complete overview of my crew, just in case we get a place in the history books. I have too high of expectations. I will tell all I know of my crew: how I met them, what their current personality is, and maybe we'll see if it changes any over this period of time.

First I'll start with Freyja, who has my personal affection. First off, she is genetically not my daughter! You can tell by her last name. She's Freyja Y'Zarii. I'm Jack Transon. I'll explain.

I encountered Freyja after the yearly system race. My unit was so screwed up that I didn't think it'd race again. The mechs had no idea how to fix it. One of the competitors in the race had figured out how to send viruses through the taunt streams. I got one, and it wreaked havoc. It messed up the drive, detached all the wiring, got them all tied in knots, and melted some of the panels. Those crazy mechs were already making arrangements to send it to the scrap yard!

Now, before I know it, this handsome little (well, maybe "little" is an understatement; she was quite tall) teenage girl saunters into the garage, pulls out a wrench and 'driver, and hops into the unit. Ten minutes later she gets out, and the unit's purrin' like a Togorian kit. Then the girl leaves.

I tell ya, I was /impressed/. I turned to the mechs and asked who this girl was. They told me she was Freyja Y'Zarii, an orphan. Not much was known about her past, but she's been on her own for a long time. She avoids the homes and is most content moving from job to job. She worked in a factory down the street, but she also worked at this garage for extra cash. She was an electronics prodigy, able to fix anything that required a power source. The garage mechs were clearly jealous of her skill.

I said, "That girl should be with a good family, not with big ugly brutes like you."

"Then /you/ take her," they said.

"What?! I can't take her! I'm forty years old, and I'm not even married! How am I supposed to care for her?"

They shrugged and walked away. I stormed home in a huff.

I couldn't sleep that night. All I could think about was that girl and her environment. I had a soft spot for kids. I had had my chance years ago, but I wasn't one for commitment. Freyja was a good-looking girl, and her casual associations could wind her up in emotional angst. Those mechs weren't wimpy guys, and they had no moral standards whatsoever. They could easily overpower her.

As soon as dawn broke I headed to the garage. When in came into view, I saw her. She was sitting on a bench outside the office door, a duffle bag at her feet. She smiled at me. I felt weak. I could tell that she was a sweet girl just by looking at her. There was something about those big, sapphire blue eyes that touched me. I knew there was something special about her.

But I wasn't going to appear to be a softy. I gave a quick snap of my wrist and a "C'mon." Freyja hustled to my side.

"Thank you for letting me stay with you, Mr. Transon."

"Yeah, yeah."

We reached my apartment building and went to my quarters. The apartment across the hall was unoccupied, so I bought it for Freyja. I wasn't ready for kids of any age in my quarters. I moved some things that I had no further use for to her apartment.

"Thank you again, Mr. Transon."

"Yeah, no problem."

She stayed in her quarters for the rest of the day, occasionally coming over to get something to eat. She was quiet and didn't bother me.

The next morning I awoke to a knocking at the door. It was Freyja. She had a tray of muffins. I didn't think that gamines knew how to bake or cook. Of course, that "factory" she worked at could have been a food processing plant of some sort, for all I know.

"I made breakfast, Mr. Transon."

"Thanks."

I hadn't had homemade breakfast for a long time. A snack from a vending machine was good enough for me. I liked having her around, though I didn't show it. I still put up my stiffy act.

"Do you work someplace, Mr. Transon?"

"Listen, girl, you want me to call you 'Miss Y'Zarii' all the time? You call me Jack." I felt that I had been too hard on her and she would run away in the middle of the night. I hadn't been around kids in a long time, being military for over twenty years. But she just smiled. She knew I was putting up an act.

Over the next few months Freyja and I bonded. She made three meals a day for me and helped me with my work. She fixed every broken appliance in my apartment. I developed fatherly instincts. I began setting curfews and started keeping boys away from her. I watched everything she did, and I made her tell me everywhere she was going to go.

She had a personality similar to my own. She was generally quiet, but when she got started talking, she was hard to stop. She also had wit and sarcasm, which made powerful weapons in her hands. But she always strived to be the group optimist. When we would go to the commissary, people would comment on my "beautiful daughter." I didn't know them well enough to correct them. Freyja would just latch onto my arm, and I would just smile.

She /did/ seem like my daughter. I loved her very much. I was protective of her. I gave her the keycard to my apartment in case of emergencies. But sometimes at night she could come in and crash on the couch, usually because of a bad dream or a thunderstorm. A lot of the time it was because we had watched a scary holovid before going to bed.

Soon I decided to let her move in. I didn't like her being there all alone, even if it was across the hall. She protested when I let her take my room and I would take the couch. After what seemed like an hour of arguing, she finally gave in. My bed now is the couch, and I'm loving it. As long as Freyja is happy. I think, when we get back, that I should buy a bigger apartment.

For her sixteenth birthday, I bought her a speeder. She was overjoyed. "Now," I said, "the first time you get pulled over, I take it back."

She rolled her eyes playfully and said something that nearly drove me to tears. "Thanks, Dad."

Though it was a casual, playful statement, it touched me. This girl by the name of Freyja Y'Zarii was the closest thing I had to a daughter, also the closest thing I had to a family. I felt like she was a part of me, though our blood was different. My reply was, "Please call me that more often."

Now when people label us as father and daughter, I don't correct them or have a desire to. I was able to get to an office and sign the forms that made me her legal guardian. She is officially my adopted daughter now. I still require her to keep her birth last name, in case something from her past shows up. Not that I'll give her away. She calls me "Dad" all the time now, and she sticks with me everywhere I go.

Freyja was lucky she was skilled, otherwise I wouldn't have let her come along on this mission. We'll be in close quarters, and there'll be a lot more men about than usual. But my girl is smart. Luckily she isn't interested in boys. Maybe because I told her that they were all grouches like me. HA HA. Anyways. . . .

I talked with Dak a couple days ago about this mission of ours. I know he thought I was crazy, as serious as I tried to be. He runs off to think about it, then the next day I find he's sending Conner instead. I was surprised. Conner is an excellent mechanic, but I was hoping for the navigational skills of Dakota Solo. No worries now; Conner will be as welcome.

All these youngsters coming along makes me with I was still a draftee in the Orgrea wars. Conner is a typical teenage boy, with a little more maturity than most. Everything I expected, except that he is quiet and doesn't stop a job until it's done.

I was in the hanger bay earlier today before the launch. I had assigned Conner to check up on the fighters. I was able to purchase three used fighters with money from my retirement account. Just kidding. They were new models that just came out about a year ago. They were Alpha-class Z-90 Raptor Skyfighters, a variant on the old Z-95 Headhunters. They were especially made for seeking and destroying, with high maneuverability. Their sensors and targeting computers are very sensitive, so I have to have Conner realign them from time to time for best results.

I had Freyja reprogramming the computers and doing last minute system checks. I caught Conner staring at her every so often. Those mechs are all the same. . . . I casually walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Son," I said, "you keep looking at her like that and I'll cut your eyes out with my pocket knife."

I heard Conner gulp. "Yes, sir," he said. From then on, when Freyja was nearby, he looked at the ground. He's a good kid. A mirror image of ol' Dak himself.

Now I'll go to my first officer, Commander Mekal Syaoran. Mekal was an old flame of mine, but it didn't work out. We found we made better friends than beaus. Mekal, who was born in Japan, began classes of various forms of karate for non-Jedi in the Republic galaxy when she was promoted to Lieutenant Commander.

I hadn't seen Meke for over a year. Freyja and I ran into her when we were visiting my old base on Corellia. She was retiring from her karate teaching and was going to settle down as a physics professor. That was when I caught her. "What's this I hear about you retiring?" I greeted.

"Transon! You scoundrel! What are you doing here?"

"I was giving Freyja a tour of the base."

"Freyja? She one of your new girlfriends?"

"Ha, ha, Syaoran. Mekal, meet Freyja Y'Zarii, my daughter. Freyja, meet Mekal Syaoran, an old friend of mine."

"Daughter? Am I missing something?"

All three of us sat down for dinner that day and got caught up on everything. I intentionally pointed the conversation in the direction of my idea of defeating the Anubis. "I'm still in need of some officers, and I know your skill. Would you like to come along?"

Mekal frowned. "The last time I got myself caught up in one of your crazy ideas, I nearly got myself killed!"

"I thought about that, and I'm sorry. If not you, got any recommendations?"

Mekal was silent for a moment. She then brushed a lock of her black hair out of her face and picked up a pen. On a napkin she scrolled something and dictated it to me. "I know someone who would make a good security officer or just someone you can have do something dangerous. She's Major Loqr'yl, a Trianii that specializes in intrusions. I know she'll help." She last wrote the means of contacting Loqr'yl. She folded the napkin and handed it to me. She stood. "It was good to see you again, Jack, granted the circumstances. I hope we'll meet again. And it was a pleasure to meet you, Freyja." Mekal left.

Freyja looked at me. "Why are you smiling like that, Dad?"

"Oh, I know she'll come back begging to go. I know her too well."

And my theory was right on the money.

I had contacted Major Loqr'yl and she was delighted to come. Well, maybe "delighted" is too strong a word. She wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic Trianii I had ever met. I arranged to meet her the day before we launched. Freyja and I were making last minute checks on the /Sentinel/ when the Trianii came into the hanger. But she wasn't alone. She was accompanied by none other than Mekal Syaoran.

"I can change my mind, can't I?" she asked.

"Welcome back," I said. "Glad you've decided to join us. I've assigned you to be second in command. Sorry for throwing all this responsibility on you, but I'm sure you can handle it."

Mekal smiled. "I /can/ handle it."

I got to meet Loqr'yl. She had silvery white fur with black striping. Her eyes were a glossy lavender. I found that "Loq" was a very antisocial Trianii. She kept to herself and didn't talk much. She usually sported a deadpan expression that I couldn't read. But Mekal assured me that she was reliable.

The rest of the crew I don't know in detail as the afore-mentioned people. The others were casual associations that had earned my trust in some way or another. They're almost all military; some I had to pull out of considering retirement. I also realized how young some of them are.

Flight Lieutenant Sullivan "Sulley" Macon is one of the pilots, a skilled young man of about twenty-four. I had him as a student for a semester when I volunteered to teach summer flight classes five years back. He is talented in many areas, but you don't find personalities on résumés. Macon is one of the most apathetic people I have ever met, even more indifferent than that Trianii. I have never seen this kid smile, and his apparent philosophy is scary. "If it's dead, there's nothing you can do. If it's dying, let it die. If it's living, it has no business with you."

Sulley's father was a general, and he must of done something in the past to damage or scar the kid's personality. Hopefully his being around the more light-hearted people like Freyja will soften him up. What Sulley Macon needs is a new outlook on life.

Macon's personality clashes with that of the other pilot, Major Trent Zan-Aiden. Trent was another one of my students, three years younger than Sulley. He was born on Sunesis, an Outer Rim planet turned agricultural center. His father was born on Coruscant, but became interested in farming when he visited Earth. He moved to Sunesis at age eighteen to start a produce and livestock farm. There he got married to one of the local girls, whose father ran one of the major corporations on that planet, which helped him get started.

Trent was the youngest of nine children. He was sent to the Jedi Academy to receive training, but at age sixteen he joined the military. He became a covert operative and skilled pilot. In the summer months, occasionally, he would go home to help his parents on their farm. I had always noticed the slightest trace of an accent in his voice, which was usually stronger when he just got back from home.

His experiences of living on a farm and having a large family created some good qualities in him. He's a hard, consistent worker and very patient with most all people. He's very open and receptive to the needs and feelings of others. I see he has better potential than Macon.

While I'm on the subject of farm-boys, I mustn't forget Dallas McKerracher. He's from the American South--Texas, I believe--and he has the accent to prove it. Dallas's mother was a Texas native, but his father was from Idaho. They raised horses, an animal that became valued in the Republic. But Dallas grew up on video games and simulators. I assigned him as weapons and tactical. Lieutenant McKerracher loves to shoot or detonate things for the sake of seeing them vaporize or explode. Basically, he's a redneck who likes to blow things up. J'ai, don't tell him I said that, or I will--how does Freyja put it?--have to reprogram you.

Anyways, Dallas can befriend and charm almost anyone, but he's shy around girls. When Freyja first met him, she described him as "sweet." Whether or not that is a good thing, I do not know.

No ship crew is complete without a trusty medical officer. I grew up with Lieutenant Colonel Diedrich Forsythe as a kid. We were good friends. I didn't need to ask twice if he wanted to come. Diedrich was in forensics and criminalistics, a crime scene investigator, before becoming a medic. He was the one that dealt with corpses . . . I forget what it's called exactly. That will be particularly useful when we encounter the cross-galaxy expedition.

The interesting thing was Diedrich's little tag-along. She was a seventeen-year-old girl with short, mousy-brown hair and gray eyes that was known as Fallon Kamali. He called her his "medical assistant." I later found out--Diedrich confessed--that he had made some enemies in his CSI career and wanted a bodyguard. I always knew Diedrich was paranoid delusional, so it seemed normal. He was able to find a trained bodyguard that also had medical skills.

Fallon Kamali is a incredible psychometric, I found. It has something to do with gleaning information from inanimate objects, but that's all I know about it. I also noticed that she never seemed to talk. The most communication she did was a note written on a piece of paper and shown to Diedrich. Diedrich later told me that she was traumatized as a youngster and wasn't able to speak afterwards. She doesn't like crowds or large groups of people, but she's deadly when provoked. Diedrich said that she was hot headed and easily angered. He did his best to keep her busy during social gatherings. Freyja found Fallon's ability "cool," but she said that the girl wasn't really a people-person.

And last, but certainly not least, is Seth Dai'vade. Seth isn't military, but he was a scientist--biologist and geneticist. He was born in the Mars colony that was established shortly after Earth and the New Republic joined. Both his parents were scientists trying to find a way to encourage plant-life to grow on the planet. The Martian Canals had already been built, but there were no plants that could survive with the planet's thin and almost oxygen-less atmosphere.

Seth grew up and became a scientist himself. After many years of study and experiment, he was able to genetically engineer a plant that could survive with little or no oxygen. He then, with a team of scientists, found a longitude where the climate was almost identical to one on earth where plant life could grow. Not long after that, he journeyed to several planets in the Republic galaxy and found plants that grew in climates similar to those on Mars. Because of Seth Dai'vade, Mars is now covered in plant life from lush forests to thin conifer woodland.

Not long ago Seth became a Christian and felt God telling him to no longer be a full-time scientist, but rather a chaplain for military missions and during wars. He would still have his fame, but his converting would serve as a testimony, many people knowing and recognizing him. Christianity became the dominant religion, the Jedi finding that their powers didn't come from the "Force," but rather from God. There are still other religions in contempt, and those still wanting to believe in the Force, but their powers often fade quickly away.

I am very sure that some of the unreligious crew will avoid him for quite away, but Seth has quite a magnetic personality. He also grows on you really quickly. He'll fit in as good as anyone else.

I suppose I'm finished rambling now. Freyja is outside my quarters pressing the doorbell over and over again. I know it's her; she does that often when I change the codes on my door. If I give her long enough, she'll hack through the system and be in here in no time. But I'll let her in anyway.

I'm done with this journal entry. Perfect timing. She's good at that. J'ai, archive it. I won't be adding anymore onto to, but I'll be accessing it again. Transon, out.