Disclaimer: Most of the characters featured are the property of G. Lucas.
No copyright infringement intended. I am NOT making any money with this.
ONLY TO BE ARCHIVED AT FANFICTION.NET
Timeline: Post- Vision of the Future, replacing Union
To M. For feedback, excellent company, fellowship in SW-madness and fun around the clock ;=) (Especially behind the wheel - I sure would like to see you with an X-wing!)
SPOILER ALERT: Planet of Twilight, Showdown at Centrepoint, Specter of The Past, Vision of The Future, Vector Prime as well as some later New Jedi Orders. (And naturally the Thrawn trilogy, how can anyone possibly avoid that? ;=)
WARPED UNIVERSE ALERT: For the sake of storytelling, Isard's not dead at all. Condolenses to those who get stomach cramps from the woman. I know what you're going through. Just thank the stars of Alderaan I didn't bring Callista back.
Star Wars: The Rising By Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi)
Mara finished her wine and portion of vegetable pie and felt relieved to get out of the restaurant. The small moon of HT-12 was rising and the streets of Tyrena II were beginning to fill with lowlifers looking for trouble.
She paid, left a tip, slid out of her table, and disappeared into the rainy night. Mantell's characteristic pink clouds could be an adorable sight, but they sure gave nasty, chilly downpours of rain.
Wrapping her coat tighter around her and cursing her non-waterproof flight suit she decided for a cab, which meant a cold ride in a battered landspeeder with some old cripple for a smuggler - cab driver was the only profession really open for those who'd lost both their money and limbs in the Derby and were forced to stay on Mantell. It would still beat walking.
A good thirty standard minutes later Mara walked into the hangar, noticing the old watchman sleeping in his post. She was about to enter the hangar, when she heard footsteps nearby. Her hand flying to her blaster holster and pulling out the weapon, she peaked into the dark hangar. From underneath the Ice she could spot two pairs of boot-clad feet. She'd have to be quick, It wasn't as if she couldn't handle two at the same time, she just hated working in pitch dark. The port didn't have much lighting for obvious reasons closely connected with the line of business usually conducted by the ships using it.
She walked as quietly as she could to the tailside of the Ice. The two unidentified beings stood between hers and another ship she could not see properly in the darkness.
Mara crept along the middle wall until she was only a few feet away from the two. They stood, inspecting a crack or something else in the side of their ship.
Mara lept out, knocking the taller one down with a kick, and trying to grab hold of the slightly shorter one's neck, her blaster ready. When he turned, startled, recognition took only a split parsek.
Mara nearly dropped her blaster. "Solo?"
Han Solo stared at her, still pressed against the - of course, Millennium Falcon by Mara's right arm, eyes wide. "Mara?"
Someone coughed at their feet and they both looked down.
Mara was on her knees in a second, helping Lando back up again. "Oh blazes, Lando, I'm sorry, I -"
Lando padded dust off his pants and decided nothing was broken. Mara had a nasty sweep when it got to it. "No problem," he replied dryly.
"Sith. You two just had to keep so quiet, didn't you?" she accused, obviously slightly rattled for nearly pulling the trigger.
"And it's not as if you go around tackling innocent bystanders?" Han winked, and received an almost deserved elbow nudge into his midriff.
"I'm just being careful. It's so prijgin dark in here. And don't even mention smuggling, I had no idea anybody except for Karrde's fold used this place," she warned Lando who was obviously about to open his mouth.
He did, anyway. "I was only about to ask what you were doing here with the Ice."
"Business," Mara replied sternly. "What about you? Not tourists I assume, not with the amount of trouble you've had on Mantell."
Han had to admit Mara was well informed. Probably due to Karrde. "Looking for you, actually."
Lando decided to spill the beans. "The ladies' man here had a bit of an epiphany this morning."
The look on Mara's face demanded for explanation, so they retreated into the Falcon and cracked open a few ales. Mara broke the ice by telling them of her Mantell history, and Han told of what he'd realized earlier. Mara was interested, but mostly evasive.
"I'd never have guessed. Small galaxy, eh?" she said after an awkward silence. Unexpectedly, Han grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Listen, I don't mean to embarrass you or anything. I know Luke knows you've worked as a dancer, and it's not anything anyone would hold against you. And there's more to it than that."
"Mm?" Mara drank down her ale. Lando did the same.
"You dance like a Corellian," Han simply said, and the look of puzzlement and disbelief made Lando laugh.
"He's had it all figured out," Lando said, grinning and pointing at Han, "Soon he'll claim you as a long-lost sister."
"And how's this going to be any use?"
"Well, isn't that what you've been trying to find out, where you're from?" Lando asked.
Mara didn't reply. It wasn't exactly that simple. "This man I've been trying to find, I know I could trace him from elsewhere, but I never knew his full name. Only rank. Nationality would help - if what you're saying is a plausible possibility than I might find his with this."
"Trace him from where?" Han asked. As Mara had found nothing on Mantell, it was more than logical for her to move on.
Mara swallowed. "Bastion."H
Pellaeon marveled at the sight spreading from below his feet as he stood in the balcony. Lights were being lit in the city of Bastion on the similarly named planet.
Thousands of stormtroopers, task leaders and other personnel were swarming onto the permacrete streets of the main standpoint, ready to be unleashed towards the self-proclaimed new government.
Some of them would stay on Bastion as the former Imperial military capital could at no times be left unguarded. Families of soldiers would stay, requiring at least a basic Airguard staffing. Pellaeon knew they'd hit hard, but so would the rebels.
The Sith had left long since, obviously chuckling with delight as Pellaeon's fellow commander had very quickly and agreeably countered the Lord's points with understanding and acceptance.
A shadow set itself behind him in the dim light casting from the conference room. Pellaeon turned. It was Isard, who ever so briefly touched the Admiral's arm as she pushed past him to the edge to view the troops as well.
"Ready at least," he commented, more bacuse he had little to say than from a desire to word his pride. They had achieved nothing yet.
"You just never take a break, don't you?" Ysanne Isard asked. Her statement seemed parallel considering her taste of dress - she never seemed to give up her uniform. Pellaeon did not complain - the tight grey suit admired her figure more than it hid it.
"When I can I do." The sun had set, and anyone unfamiliar with Bastion would have expected a moon or two to rise but there weren't any. Darkness embraced the grey towers. They were beauty in the architecture and layout of Bastion, but only visible to those who knew enough to appreciate the almost gone power hidden in the military outpost. Bastion wasn't an ubiqtorate base like Haegr or Yaga Minor - those usually acted as real-time command centres, but a place for contemplation, for strategy. In the late years it had also become a place of retreat.
Years that would hopefully now come to an end, giving way to a reclaim of glory.
"I'm just glad you're handling the Jedi."
"And the Sith, you mean?" Isard asked, fingering a lock of her hair.
Pellaeon nodded. "They're an annoying lot, aren't they?"
Ysanne Isard laughed heartily. "Effective and authoritative, good ruling material, but yes, overtly dramatical and annoying. It's just bowing at every turn. For Palpatine's sake it has to be said that he was always more reasonable than Vader, for instance."
Pellaeon gazed at the slender woman standing next to her. Who'd have guessed that she of all people would seize her dreams of control over the galaxy at such a desperate date for the Empire. Pellaeon just hoped it would last. Isard wouldn't quite be Emperor, but something similar to Vader's position would suffice more than well. Unless Isard had bigger plans. Pellaeon just hoped she'd realized that the Sith was going to prove a problem if the situation came to a duel.
"I just hope I'll be let to handle the practicalities like Vader did," Isard mused, lost in dreams of greatness.
Pellaeon knew his place, knew that being in command of an army was where he fared best. He'd always believed that such abilities as Isard had were a burden to bear as they always brought ambition with them. Being a good commander was far easier than pursuing for power. Pellaeon was quite contempt with his part of the bargain.
Isard smiled at him with her grey eyes and he reciprocated. Yes, he was quite contempt with his part.
************************************************'
Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
Heidi Ahlmen siirma6@surfeu.fi
ONLY TO BE ARCHIVED AT FANFICTION.NET
Timeline: Post- Vision of the Future, replacing Union
To M. For feedback, excellent company, fellowship in SW-madness and fun around the clock ;=) (Especially behind the wheel - I sure would like to see you with an X-wing!)
SPOILER ALERT: Planet of Twilight, Showdown at Centrepoint, Specter of The Past, Vision of The Future, Vector Prime as well as some later New Jedi Orders. (And naturally the Thrawn trilogy, how can anyone possibly avoid that? ;=)
WARPED UNIVERSE ALERT: For the sake of storytelling, Isard's not dead at all. Condolenses to those who get stomach cramps from the woman. I know what you're going through. Just thank the stars of Alderaan I didn't bring Callista back.
Star Wars: The Rising By Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi)
Mara finished her wine and portion of vegetable pie and felt relieved to get out of the restaurant. The small moon of HT-12 was rising and the streets of Tyrena II were beginning to fill with lowlifers looking for trouble.
She paid, left a tip, slid out of her table, and disappeared into the rainy night. Mantell's characteristic pink clouds could be an adorable sight, but they sure gave nasty, chilly downpours of rain.
Wrapping her coat tighter around her and cursing her non-waterproof flight suit she decided for a cab, which meant a cold ride in a battered landspeeder with some old cripple for a smuggler - cab driver was the only profession really open for those who'd lost both their money and limbs in the Derby and were forced to stay on Mantell. It would still beat walking.
A good thirty standard minutes later Mara walked into the hangar, noticing the old watchman sleeping in his post. She was about to enter the hangar, when she heard footsteps nearby. Her hand flying to her blaster holster and pulling out the weapon, she peaked into the dark hangar. From underneath the Ice she could spot two pairs of boot-clad feet. She'd have to be quick, It wasn't as if she couldn't handle two at the same time, she just hated working in pitch dark. The port didn't have much lighting for obvious reasons closely connected with the line of business usually conducted by the ships using it.
She walked as quietly as she could to the tailside of the Ice. The two unidentified beings stood between hers and another ship she could not see properly in the darkness.
Mara crept along the middle wall until she was only a few feet away from the two. They stood, inspecting a crack or something else in the side of their ship.
Mara lept out, knocking the taller one down with a kick, and trying to grab hold of the slightly shorter one's neck, her blaster ready. When he turned, startled, recognition took only a split parsek.
Mara nearly dropped her blaster. "Solo?"
Han Solo stared at her, still pressed against the - of course, Millennium Falcon by Mara's right arm, eyes wide. "Mara?"
Someone coughed at their feet and they both looked down.
Mara was on her knees in a second, helping Lando back up again. "Oh blazes, Lando, I'm sorry, I -"
Lando padded dust off his pants and decided nothing was broken. Mara had a nasty sweep when it got to it. "No problem," he replied dryly.
"Sith. You two just had to keep so quiet, didn't you?" she accused, obviously slightly rattled for nearly pulling the trigger.
"And it's not as if you go around tackling innocent bystanders?" Han winked, and received an almost deserved elbow nudge into his midriff.
"I'm just being careful. It's so prijgin dark in here. And don't even mention smuggling, I had no idea anybody except for Karrde's fold used this place," she warned Lando who was obviously about to open his mouth.
He did, anyway. "I was only about to ask what you were doing here with the Ice."
"Business," Mara replied sternly. "What about you? Not tourists I assume, not with the amount of trouble you've had on Mantell."
Han had to admit Mara was well informed. Probably due to Karrde. "Looking for you, actually."
Lando decided to spill the beans. "The ladies' man here had a bit of an epiphany this morning."
The look on Mara's face demanded for explanation, so they retreated into the Falcon and cracked open a few ales. Mara broke the ice by telling them of her Mantell history, and Han told of what he'd realized earlier. Mara was interested, but mostly evasive.
"I'd never have guessed. Small galaxy, eh?" she said after an awkward silence. Unexpectedly, Han grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Listen, I don't mean to embarrass you or anything. I know Luke knows you've worked as a dancer, and it's not anything anyone would hold against you. And there's more to it than that."
"Mm?" Mara drank down her ale. Lando did the same.
"You dance like a Corellian," Han simply said, and the look of puzzlement and disbelief made Lando laugh.
"He's had it all figured out," Lando said, grinning and pointing at Han, "Soon he'll claim you as a long-lost sister."
"And how's this going to be any use?"
"Well, isn't that what you've been trying to find out, where you're from?" Lando asked.
Mara didn't reply. It wasn't exactly that simple. "This man I've been trying to find, I know I could trace him from elsewhere, but I never knew his full name. Only rank. Nationality would help - if what you're saying is a plausible possibility than I might find his with this."
"Trace him from where?" Han asked. As Mara had found nothing on Mantell, it was more than logical for her to move on.
Mara swallowed. "Bastion."H
Pellaeon marveled at the sight spreading from below his feet as he stood in the balcony. Lights were being lit in the city of Bastion on the similarly named planet.
Thousands of stormtroopers, task leaders and other personnel were swarming onto the permacrete streets of the main standpoint, ready to be unleashed towards the self-proclaimed new government.
Some of them would stay on Bastion as the former Imperial military capital could at no times be left unguarded. Families of soldiers would stay, requiring at least a basic Airguard staffing. Pellaeon knew they'd hit hard, but so would the rebels.
The Sith had left long since, obviously chuckling with delight as Pellaeon's fellow commander had very quickly and agreeably countered the Lord's points with understanding and acceptance.
A shadow set itself behind him in the dim light casting from the conference room. Pellaeon turned. It was Isard, who ever so briefly touched the Admiral's arm as she pushed past him to the edge to view the troops as well.
"Ready at least," he commented, more bacuse he had little to say than from a desire to word his pride. They had achieved nothing yet.
"You just never take a break, don't you?" Ysanne Isard asked. Her statement seemed parallel considering her taste of dress - she never seemed to give up her uniform. Pellaeon did not complain - the tight grey suit admired her figure more than it hid it.
"When I can I do." The sun had set, and anyone unfamiliar with Bastion would have expected a moon or two to rise but there weren't any. Darkness embraced the grey towers. They were beauty in the architecture and layout of Bastion, but only visible to those who knew enough to appreciate the almost gone power hidden in the military outpost. Bastion wasn't an ubiqtorate base like Haegr or Yaga Minor - those usually acted as real-time command centres, but a place for contemplation, for strategy. In the late years it had also become a place of retreat.
Years that would hopefully now come to an end, giving way to a reclaim of glory.
"I'm just glad you're handling the Jedi."
"And the Sith, you mean?" Isard asked, fingering a lock of her hair.
Pellaeon nodded. "They're an annoying lot, aren't they?"
Ysanne Isard laughed heartily. "Effective and authoritative, good ruling material, but yes, overtly dramatical and annoying. It's just bowing at every turn. For Palpatine's sake it has to be said that he was always more reasonable than Vader, for instance."
Pellaeon gazed at the slender woman standing next to her. Who'd have guessed that she of all people would seize her dreams of control over the galaxy at such a desperate date for the Empire. Pellaeon just hoped it would last. Isard wouldn't quite be Emperor, but something similar to Vader's position would suffice more than well. Unless Isard had bigger plans. Pellaeon just hoped she'd realized that the Sith was going to prove a problem if the situation came to a duel.
"I just hope I'll be let to handle the practicalities like Vader did," Isard mused, lost in dreams of greatness.
Pellaeon knew his place, knew that being in command of an army was where he fared best. He'd always believed that such abilities as Isard had were a burden to bear as they always brought ambition with them. Being a good commander was far easier than pursuing for power. Pellaeon was quite contempt with his part of the bargain.
Isard smiled at him with her grey eyes and he reciprocated. Yes, he was quite contempt with his part.
************************************************'
Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
Heidi Ahlmen siirma6@surfeu.fi