Chapter 8 – Cursed Cramps
"I see we're at this point again, Admiral. You've managed to pick up an agent, specifically a slicer. And still, one might comment that either you're getting smarter, or the Rebels are. I'd be inclined to believe it the latter, however...we've no proof they've gotten smarter at all. Especially if Loran's work is accurate," Ysanne Isard scrolled through the NR Intel's database slowly, watching for any signs of 'planned' information.
Admiral Daala, carefully observing the Intelligence director bedecked in a red admiral's uniform, stood behind Isard, not commenting. She would, no doubt be hearing yet again of how she'd let Tyria Tainer escape.
Yet amazingly, Isard merely nodded and stood from her chair. The two women faced each other, before Daala nodded curtly. She may not love Isard, but she still had to show respect, an unfortunate thing none the less.
Isard walked from the computer panel and towards the door, gesturing Daala get a move on and walk with her. Daala complied evenly, falling into step with the Intelligence director as she walked towards her office.
"I want to know, Admiral, how you plan on holding Ms. Loran once we reach Cloud City. Last time, with Tainer, there seems to have been some lapse in judgment of the Wraiths' abilities," Isard informed her.
Yes, Daala thought, I know it was a lapse in judgment. But whose fault is that?
But none of this was voiced, as Isard continued, "I'm sure it will not be happening again, considering there is not one, but three Force-sensitive lives to consider if our hacker girl is 'rescued' by our dear New Republic squadron."
"I assure you, Madam Director, Adra Loran will not be leaving this ship until well after we leave Cloud City," Daala broke in quickly, wishing to set at least some things to rights. They were now halted outside Isard's office door, facing one another again, both bedecked in the red admiral's uniform. "After Loran decided it would be wiser to submit to the rule of the Empire we had a discussion concerning this. There should be nothing to worry about."
"There had better not be, Admiral. The repercussions will not be pleasant if you are, again, underestimating your enemy in Wraith Squadron." With that, Ysanne Isard turned on her heel and entered her waiting office. The door automatically closed behind her, leaving Daala standing in the hallway. She didn't move until she'd given a very rude look to the door, accompanied with a just-as-rude gesture.
* * * * *
Cloud City was hardly any different than Cloud remembered it to be. Well, there was one very important difference: Tyria wasn't in Daala's clutches this time. In fact, she was standing right next to him, looking around the sky city's limits. And what made that whole experience better, it was that Cloud also knew where he stood in Tyria's estimation, he wasn't just some mechanic and explosive lover that she regarded as her brother's friend. No, it was a far cry from that.
Behind him, Nicola and Gaeriel were exchanging ideas on some aspect of their little 'rescue' mission. It probably had to do with stalling the Imperials, should need be. Tyria's rescue had been, to say the least, not quite so simple. They'd had the eleven of them on the kriffin' Star Destroyer, but had they bothered to have someone check up on inside information? Of course not. Then again, they had also not exactly had the resources to do so.
From what Cloud knew, Adra had sent every file that was on the Imperial Intelligence database to Iella. Tyria and Nicola had downloaded a copy of it to their datapads, though nobody else had really been allowed to see it. In that information was a semi-detailed overview of the Gorgon's interior. Apart from that, whatever power had been blocking the Force communication between Nicola and her friend was muted, if not entirely gone.
And, of course, no one but Face could ask Nicola to tell what Adra was saying and also receive a decent answer. If it had been Tyria, Cloud wouldn't even have bothered waiting for Nicola's answer. He would've used the Force himself. But Face didn't have the Force, so he just had to sit and wait.
The odd thing about the connection, though, was that Nicola was the only Jedi of the Wraiths to establish a connection. Jade hadn't been asked, though she probably could have set up a connection, but that was merely because everyone knew she wouldn't grace them with an answer. That was Jade, after all.
* * * * *
The abrupt corners of the Star Destroyer's hallways didn't phase Adra as she wandered around, not enjoying a cramped quarters, no matter how nicely made up they were. She had decided she wanted to do something other than fiddle with 'hacking' work. If she had been back in Wraith, she could've simmed with Nicola...
A sudden idea crossed her mind, overpowering her idea on creating a mental map of the Gorgon's distinct layout. Sure, she had a rough copy. Sure, Nicola would much rather have a to-the-second updated copy. But Adra had an idea, and that's what she was going to do.
In spite of her attempt at getting lost in the hallways beforehand, Adra found the simulator rooms with ease. It was hardly surprising to her that they would be near the pilots' quarters, and their lounge. The TIE fighter hanger bays were the next level down, after all.
A glance around told her that nobody present would give her a second look or a question as to what she was doing. The sims would, of course, be formatted to the standard TIE fighter version or, if she was lucky, a TIE advanced. Across the room, at the other door, a group of five pilots entered. Imperial pilots, of course, all dressed impeccably in their black garb.
Biting back a noise of disgust, the Jedi pilot wandered closer to one of the simulators. Fishing into one of the pockets in her gray uniform, Adra pulled out the fruit of her 0550 labor. It was a simulator program, one that would establish her craft as an X-Wing and conform the controls to the same. The idea behind her making it at 0550 that morning, other than utter boredom and the inability to fall back to sleep, was so that if she found a free simulator that wasn't a TIE model she wanted to fly, she could fly an X-Wing.
That thought in mind, the datacard was pushed into the waiting slot and a spare flight helmet- Imperial black, as standard- flew from the racks to her hands. A minute later, Adra had positioned herself in the cockpit of the sim, and was now waiting for the simulator to get through the 'rules' stage. She'd included them, another aspect of boredom, merely because she'd had nothing else to do.
It was a take on the Bilbringi scenario she and Tyria had worked out, but it wasn't quite the same. In this, there were only four squadrons of TIE fighters, and the Knight Hammer. The general assumption was, of course, that on board the Knight Hammer Jori Daragon, Admiral Daala and Ysanne Isard. The computer was programmed to simulate eleven other X-Wings, all of them fully equipped, at the rates of pretty-decent pilots. The task? Blow up the Knight Hammer, of course.
Now Adra just had to hope none of the Imp pilots decided to look in on what sim she was using. They'd undoubtedly notice that it was not one any loyal Imperial would dare to attempt. Good thing she didn't fall into the category in question.
It took thirty minutes, and three X-Wing 'pilots' to complete the sim half-decently. Adra had made it something that could be beaten so long as you could fly half-decently. She'd purposely avoided a take on the Requiem concept. That one was just bad news if you didn't know a thing about flying.
The Jedi sat calmly in the cockpit, wondering silently about her fellow Wraiths, all of whom were supposed to be at Cloud City by now. She hadn't spoken to Nicola since the Gorgon's last reversion to realspace, and that had been a day ago. Since that time she'd confirmed that the sithwitch Isard was on board the Star Destroyer. Another thing she 'overheard' was the talk of the Imperial pilots concerning their not-quite-inactive part in the Cloud City business.
There was one more reversion to realspace before the final jump point, one that would be vitally important for her to be awake through. She needed to talk to Nicola again, to make sure she got the information before the actual rendezvous at Cloud City. She had one day to think about the time they'd be in realspace- something like five standard minutes- and then another day and a half before Daala came to find her and inform her that they were reverting in a few hours and that she needed to go 'play her part'.
That, in some ways, was a relief. That Admiral Daala could be so thick-headed and stupid was, at this point, a blessing. The woman had accepted her sudden 'Imperial pride, Go Imps!' attitude as an expected occurrence. Because of it, Adra had practically a free run of the ship, excluding five places, and she didn't even need to be accompanied by a stormtrooper, or other. It was scary, but Daala was almost acting civil.
In the meantime, Jori Daragon had 'lost favor' in Daala's eyes. Yet at the same time, Adra had to wonder. The Sith mother held command of one of the most powerful weapons in creation: the third Death Star. Unlike the first two, none of the New Republic's Intelligence officers had been able to find a flaw in the designs. Jori wasn't stupid, that's for sure, considering she edited all the original plans.
The shear magnitude of such power, a power that had been around for over five years now, was enough to point to Isard's terms with Jori. It was obvious, when Adra overheard them talking together in a hallway, that the pair was not as they appeared. In formal situations the Sith and the Imperial appeared to hold each other in some form of mutual respect, but anything past that would look to be a lie. Yet the conversation Adra had overheard implied otherwise.
There was no doubt in her mind that Jori and Isard were working to achieve some common goal. And whatever they were attempting, it was being done behind Admiral Daala's back.
However, that part came as no surprise. Admiral Daala hadn't been promoted for her brains, a thing Tyria Ritril had noted on more than one occasion. Instead, the showy redhead had been promoted merely because she had turned out "favors" to the higher ups.
Even after knowing all this for years, it still made Adra laugh. The Imperial's only active Admiral wasn't even promoted for merit. It was true, Ysanne Isard did parade around in red admiral's uniform, and it was also true that somewhere in the Unknown Regions Grand Admiral Thrawn was lurking unseen. But Thrawn hadn't posed a major threat to the New Republic in a few good years, nor did he appear to have the fleet to do so. All of his ships, minus the Chimaera, were under Daala's command.
Of course, being 'under Daala's command' might not mean that much. Ysanne Isard had undeniably returned. The question was, did Daala still remain the military figurehead, or was Isard pushing her to the side? While Isard was and always had been an Imperial Intelligence agent, she had also managed to reign supreme for some time when it came to military might set against the New Republic.
A puzzling question, most certainly, but one that Adra didn't have the time to muse over in a sim cockpit. She got herself out of the cockpit, shaking her head out of the black helmet. She much preferred her own, but beggars certainly weren't allowed to be choosers.
Using the Force, she sent the helmet back to its spot on the rack, then walked over to the simulator slot. One push of a single button caused the disk to pop up and out, its end poking out about a centimeter. Taking the waiting datacard, Adra turned and began walking to the exit. As of yet, the pilots still in the sim rooms hadn't raised any comments, though that was hardly not expected to be the case when a Jedi Mind Trick was involved.
Approximately three-quarters of the way back to her room, Adra stopped walking, offering a silent string of mixed language's curses aimed at her cramping calf muscles. Ah yes, one of the 'joys' of being three and a half months pregnant. It was one that she had actually forgotten in her present circumstances, all things considered. But being on a Star Destroyer did nothing to sway the effects of cramping muscles; they would cramp whenever they pleased, no matter your place in the universe. At this rate, it would be all she could do to return to her quarters at a steady pace. Cursed cramps.
