Star Wars Infinities: The Master

Chapter 7

By: Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: darth_yoshi@yahoo.com

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by LucasFilm Ltd. They are used here without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. This original story is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine.

The assassin was not a man who was very passionate about his work. In fact, Dengar would be hard pressed to name anything that invoked some sort of emotional response in him. He had seen droids that could feel more than he was able and because of that, he often times wondered why he even bothered to go on.

Wasn't survival simply an emotional desire of selfishness? Wasn't it just the mind saying it still had more things to experience and that death would prevent that? If he had no emotions, why did he philosophize when he was alone aboard the Punishing One?

He checked the chronometer again and realized he had stayed up all night again but he wasn't angered by it. He simply made a mental note to be more cautious as his body would react differently with sleep deprivation. He stood up and adjusted one of the many bandages that covered his body; his head was wrapped in one underneath the blaster armor helmet he wore.

In his younger days, Dengar had been a sight to behold on Corellia, though he had to confess his memories of his former life were very blurry. He knew that he had been a dashing young man who was rising fast on the swoop bike circuit. He could have been a star had it not been for the intervention of Han Solo, another pilot.

In an illegal race, Solo performed a move that caused Dengar to crash, his skull pierced by debris. Imperial scientists had taken the young man and performed life-saving surgery on him, removing the parts of his brain that contained emotion and turned him into a professional killer.

They had left rage intact, but with Solo dead now for over five years, Dengar really had nobody to direct his anger at. He wondered if the scientists who had performed the operations on him considered what he would do if Solo were no longer a source of contention?

He shrugged, more of a response from memory than as an answer. He still acted human even of he didn't feel it and that was necessary. He was a highly trained assassin, formerly in the employ of the AFNO. Two years before, however, he had decided that the changed New Order represented nothing but chaos and his "programming" dictated that he follow an orderly course through his life.

Now he was an assassin for hire and that paid for the things he needed. He had no desires, not for money, power or even sex. He needed to eat and sleep. Everything else was simply commentary.

The message had been delivered to him through the Corellian underground, via the New Republic, which was very strange. Dengar did not operate in the Republic; Prince Xizor would never stand for it and Dengar was smart enough to realize that the Falleen general still had great influence in the galaxy.

Written in clear flimsy, the message had been very quick to the point:

Secure high ranking official to gain access to Death Star. Any means may be employed to ensure cooperation. Information to be relayed through the Bounty Hunter's Guild. Payment upon delivery.

The, almost as an afterthought, there was a secondary set of instructions hand written in flowing script at the bottom:

Leadership would also be pleased if any non-Republic leaders of Corellia were to meet an untimely end.

Dengar, had he the ability to be so inclined, would have been shocked by the other instructions. It was an assassinate-on-sight request from the New Republic! Not only that, they were giving him free reign to gather intelligence for them any way he saw fit. Most agents avoided the Republic because they would never accept information that had been gained through immoral means.

To the former Imperial, it meant only one thing and that was the war had reached a stalemate. All three sides were now working behind the scenes to see if the balance of power could be tipped anywhere. He briefly considered the possibility that Daala could have been behind the death of Tarkin the month before but considered that he really didn't care.

Dengar foresaw either the Hapans or the Corporate Sector gaining the upper hand in the galactic conflict. Neither had suffered the devastating losses that the other governments had. Not to mention all of the small, independent planetary groupings that were popping up all over the galaxy.

It all meant work for him and he went over to his gun locker to retrieve his special sniper rifle. The message indicated as well that the New Republic had its eyes on Corellia. Dengar was Corellian by birth and he tried to see if the thought of the New Republic in charge of his home elicited a response.

All he felt was the beating of his heart. He didn't care at all.

"You're positive of this information?" Garm Bel Iblis asked. Wedge and Soontir both sat at the table drinking from mugs of Corellian spiced ale. Xizor, out of uniform and in his civilian attire, swirled the glass of Alderaanian wine before taking a sip. He let the liquid sit on his tongue for a second and then he swallowed, relishing the drink.

"It has been confirmed," Xizor said with a nod.

Bel Iblis considered the information and then the source. He never liked Xizor, did not trust him, but knew him to be invaluable to the Republic. He personally had established the spy network that allowed the former Corellian senator to maintain an eye on his war-ravaged homeworld. Still, Xizor was the former head of Black Sun, a criminal organization, and Bel Iblis was of the mind "once a thief, always a thief".

Xizor had always proven helpful in matters concerning the Corellians, but Bel Iblis thought the Falleen might be pursuing his own agenda as opposed to just being helpful. "Who knows?"

Xizor shrugged. "I had to tell Regis, of course," he replied, his green shade warming a bit from the wine. His roving eye spied a young pilot with her hair in braids across the tavern. "Other than that, just you."

Soontir leaned forward. "And what was the response of our illustrious Chief-of-State?"

"He ordered me not to tell you." The intelligence chief smiled. "I felt that it was detrimental to the New Republic to do so. My responsibility is to the people, not to the Chief-of-State." That was a stretch of the truth and most certainly wouldn't hold up at a court-martial, but the men at the table knew that Xizor had little to fear there. In the worst case, he would simply be reprimanded. In the worst, he would disappear and eventually show up on the payroll of some other government.

Bel Iblis nodded and waited until Xizor excused himself to pursue his intended prey. The Falleen was the most infamous seducer in the Republic. "Comments?"

Wedge spoke up first. "We take our fleets and invade and to hell with the New Republic!"

Soontir laughed. "You don't think Regis won't send Ackbar after us? I don't relish the idea of going up against him and his Mon Calamari loyalists."

"True enough," Bel Iblis agreed. "Ackbar is Supreme Commander of the armed forces and he's been trying to split up our forces among his. To an extent, he's been successful."

"Except for my Special Reactionary Force," Soontir said in a low tone. "It's completely special ops, totally removed from the regular chain of command."

Wedge slowly nodded his head, sipped his ale and kept a wary eye out for potential spies. The tension between the Corellians and the rest of the Republic forces was not getting any weaker with the announcement of the death of Tarkin. Though all within the borders of the New Republic cheered the passing of the tyrant, it didn't address the underlying issue that the Corellians felt betrayed by the government they currently served.

He noted a particular young man looking over in their direction. He wore the uniform of Biggs Darklighter's Wraith Squadron with an underpatch indicating he was from Alderaan. Wedge recognized him as Commander Tycho Celchu. The man had requested several times to be transferred into the Corellian Rogue Squadron. "We can count on the Rogues and a couple of other specialty squadrons to join up, depending on what sort of ships we're talking about."

"Three Vics and an Impstar Trey," Fel replied. The Victory-class star destroyers were holdovers from the Old Republic, but still worthwhile capital ships. A third generation Imperial-class was very impressive, however. Fel seemed to read his brother-in-law's mind. "We captured it six months ago, part of a probing force to test our defensive line around Ando."

"Do we control Ando?" Bel Iblis asked sarcastically.

"Not this week," Wedge grumbled. He was voicing the concerns of all Corellians. The New Republic was barely hanging by a thread. For every new member that petitioned to join, another was either being conquered or converted over to some other cause. The only people profiting from this war was the Corporate Sector. "We need a better plan than just flying in there and attacking the reserve fleet. There are still the troops on the ground to deal with and none of us here has any influence with the army."

There was a deep silence as they contemplated that issue. Xizor had presented them with the one thing they had been hoping for since the civil war had started. The Death Star was gone!

The problem facing Garm Bel Iblis was more than just a tactical one, deciding how best to proceed. There was also a moral one: should he desert the New Republic with a roaming Death Star out there? "We need to talk to all of the senior officers and get a consensus."

"We need an army," Wedge reminded him. "Or at least a couple of military police regiments."

"How about some battle droids?" another voice asked.

Wedge turned to see that Tycho Celchu had snuck up on them. He was holding a glass of mineral water and had a grin on his face that would make a space pirate jealous. Bel Iblis regarded the newest member of the conversation with a wary eye. "A little out of place, aren't you, son?"

Tycho ignored the reference to his age and nationality. "We're all friends, senator," he replied. "We all want the same thing."

"I fail to see that," Wedge said, ready to pull rank on the brash junior officer. Fel put a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting down. Wedge took the hint and changed his tone. "Why don't you sit down?"

"You fine gentlemen seem to be too busy to entertain me, sir, with all due respect." Tycho leaned in and whispered something into Wedge's ear, stood up and then walked away. He had a typical pilot's swagger to the way he walked. If not for the patches on his uniform, he could have been mistaken for a Corellian.

"Well?" Bel Iblis asked.

"He said he knows where there are a ton of Trade Federation battle droids sitting and collecting dust," Wedge said as he polished off his drink. "It's possible. Wraith Squadron has pulled off some pretty exotic missions during the war and Celchu there has enough medals to make him believable."

"Why would he help us?" Fel questioned as he kept watch on Tycho.

Wedge shrugged and called to a waitress to bring him over another ale. "Celchu has always been a team-player. He's tried to join up with us in the past."

"Maybe he's a spy," Bel Iblis theorized. "Working for Regis."

The other two men chuckled. "That nerf-herder isn't smart enough to come up with something as sophisticated as a spy," Fel countered. He held a finger. "Xizor, though…"

"Xizor already has a spy in Rogue Squadron I'm sure," Wedge told them. "Maybe he's Imperial or Tarkinist. I'll take another glance over his file."

"Do that," Bel Iblis ordered. Wedge's drink arrived and the three men sat again in silence as they contemplated the fortunes set in their laps. After about ten minutes, Celchu left the bar, soon followed by Xizor with the female pilot on his arm. "What about Horn?"

Fel sighed. "Corran is a loyal Corellian, but I do not want to try and start another Jedi schism. They have enough problems."

"I agree. No Jedi," Wedge added. His distrust of the Jedi was born out of his hatred for Padme Amidala. It was she, as Darth Deceptra that had murdered his sister. Fel had been married to Wedge's sister, but he was more proficient at hiding his emotions. "I respect the memory of Hal Horn as much as anyone, but his son…"

Fel shrugged. "So? My problem is with the mother, not the daughter."

"She's Darth Vader's kid!" Wedge hissed. "Kill the whole line and end it I say!"

Bel Iblis stopped the tirade before it became embarrassing. "Let's worry about getting our home back. Once that is done, we can then concentrate on justice." That seemed to calm Wedge down and Bel Iblis put his next question to Fel. "What about it, Baron?"

Fel started to nod as he ran the possibilities through his mind. "The Trade Federation was taken down completely at the end of the Clone Wars and most of their assets were transferred to the Empire, Black Sun and the Hutts. Those worlds are now under the control of everyone from the Corporate Sector to independent entities."

He leaned back and put his hands behind his head. "I know Palpatine didn't have a great fondness for battle droids, but he did confiscate several hundred divisions of them as booty at the end of the wars. I'm not exactly sure what happened to them."

"I was a young man then; I remember those annoying little bastards." Bel Iblis reached out for some breadsticks. Nibbling on one he considered Tycho's offer. "We could go back through Tycho's record and find out everywhere he's been assigned. Look for the droids."

Wedge shook his head and downed his ale, calling again for the waitress to resupply him. Whenever he thought about Padme Amidala, he drank too much. Fel would be dragging him home again. "He's a former Imperial pilot. For all we know, he came across them during one of his assignments for the New Order. We have no way of verifying that."

The other men reluctantly agreed. They realized that a droid army was the perfect answer to their problem. They could load thousands of them on the ships that Fel could provide and they would require no food or berthing. In order to secure the droids, they would have to trust an Alderaanian.

That did not set well with any of them and Bel Iblis was sure that the senior Corellian officers would be upset as well. Since the start of the civil war, the Corellians had been a people unto themselves, trusting very few outsiders. They were polite to others, even fought by their side, but they trusted nobody. The diktat of Corellia had trusted that the New Order would protect their world and in the end, the entire system had been transformed into a place of misery and pain.

The Tarkin came and he tried to subjugate a beaten people and when that didn't work, he treated them like pieces in some sort of absurd board game. The sunsets on Corellia were always marred by the presence of the Death Star, the creation that had destroyed Chandrilla.

There were very few Chandrillan units left and they, among all of the others, were the ones the Corellians trusted the least. Given the chance, a Chandrillan would give back what they had received, even if that meant destroying Corellia just to get to a few Tarkinists. The New Republic treated Chandrillans with respect and awe, Corellians avoided them.

"Sithspawn," Fel muttered. He turned to Wedge. "Take the guy up on his offer. Hell, there's nothing wrong with an Alderaanian that wants to kick dome butt, I suppose."

"We need more information on this Admiral Rose as well and the forces under his command," Wedge said. He drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for his drink. "I can't figure why Daala would move the Death Star anyway."

"I've thought about that myself," Bel Iblis said as he reached for another breadstick. He sniffed it first before taking a bite. "Daala is impulsive, but she isn't stupid. She wouldn't do anything without reliable intelligence and unless it was worthwhile. What does the Confederacy need that they can't get in our home system?"

"A stable border?" Fel asked. The systems around Corellia were the only truly safe place for the Tarkinist forces as the rest of their worlds were hodgepodge spread throughout the galaxy in many places that did not have a severe Imperial or Republic presence.

"Shipyards."

There was more silence. Bel Iblis continued to chew as he spoke. "Tarkin was never able to get the yards up around Corellia which means he had to subcontract out a lot of building and repair to places like Kuat Drive Yards and Seinar Fleet Systems, two fairly independent contractors. Sure, they swear loyalty to Ravage, but everyone knows that they do a lot of business below board."

"Has to be expensive," Fel agreed.

"More than that, it has to be frustrating because they know that any order the Empire puts in is going to get priority." The elder Corellian smiled. "Name the yards worth sending a Death Star over."

"Yaga Minor," Wedge said.

"Too close to Imperial Center," Fel replied, shaking his head. "We know Tarkin suspected Ravage had another super weapon. If he does have one, its there. Ravage takes down the Death Star, and then the Imperial fleet wipes them out. Too risky."

"Byss?"

"Destroyed eight months ago."

"Mon Calamari?"

Fel laughed. "And go up against Thrawn? Daala isn't that brave."

Bel Iblis stopped eating. "Speaking of which, do any of you know the last time Thrawn was spotted?"

"He avoids the holovid cameras," Wedge offered.

"Yes, but he is the Warlord of the Empire…"

Fel cleared his throat. "I heard a rumor about some pirate activity in the Outer Rim; maybe he went to look into it."

"That Palleon character that serves as his second-in-command is not fool," Wedge reminded them. "Wouldn't Thrawn leave him in charge even if he left?"

"Unless Thrawn was laying a trap and he had a super-weapon," Bel Iblis said quietly. "Xizor presented us with an intelligence briefing a year or so ago detailing an Imperial raid on the Maw Installation, a super secret research station Tarkin kept. Our sources said he found nothing…"

Tycho Celchu continued to stroll down the vegetation-covered walkway towards the Wraith Squadron barracks, his face one of genuine pleasure. To the casual passerby, he was simply another brave New Republic warrior out for a breath of fresh air.

Anyone with telepathic abilities would know otherwise.

I have done as you instructed, my master, he thought.

There was a pause before Malakie could respond through the Force. Tycho was the last of his Force-induced slaves from Dathomir. The four stormtroopers had each died at some point over the past few years. You have done well, my faithful servant. It is in the best interest of my…master that we allow the Corellians to reclaim their home.

Tycho took time out to wink at a pretty girl as he walked by, getting a blush and a giggle in response from her female companions. I do not understand all of this master, he replied.

The more factionalized the galaxy is, the easier it will be for my…master to assume control. Tycho could sense through their mental link that Malakie was not entirely happy with Exar Kunn at that moment, though he could not fathom why. It wasn't his concern anyway; he was merely a servant in a greater cause.

It was certainly good fortune that you came across the information regarding the movement of the Death Star, Tycho thought, trying to keep the conversation going. He felt so useful whenever Malakie spoke to him.

Bah! There is no such thing as fortune, only the Force! Malakie griped. The truth was that the use of the Sun Crusher had destroyed much more than the Yuuzhen Vong, there were also creatures on some of the worlds in that galaxy that had died. Kamino had been close enough that the Dark Lords had felt the loss of life through the Force.

It was a simple matter of going through Taun We's extensive spy network to find out that the Death Star had moved. Then Exar Kunn had reached through the Force to find out everything else. The effort had left him in a virtual coma that he was still recovering from.

Tycho could not know that Exar Kunn had used his own mind to invade the thoughts of hundreds of Imperial officers, from newly commissioned ensigns on garbage scows to old, nearly senile admirals. Because Darth Ravage was using his own ability to use the Force to coordinate the efforts of his forces, with Thrawn's expert advice, there was already a network for Kunn to tap into.

Kunn, however, had never tried such a feat and his new body, which disgusted Malakie, had not been prepared properly for the effort. Malakie had even considered killing Kunn in his weakened state but decided against it. The glory of the Sith, for now, was more important than personal vengeance. For now.