Their micro jump exit vector laid somewhere in deep space where there were only the stars and hard vacuum. What hyper space was for Coreena Mallan, deep space was for Marcus Lochlin. Against all better judgment he hadn't instantly continued the jump but had ordered the whole party to stay and wait for Flann and Coreena. And besides… Bantha IV needed some time to repair the most urgent damages before making the last jump.
But the time grew farther and farther and there still wasn't any sign of the two arriving. "Bantha IV to Gray Two. We're ready. Let's go." He didn't hear it, just had his gaze fixed on the spot where they would be exiting hyper space. "Two? We really should be going." This was Deraani. He knew the urgency in her voice was more than justified but something kept him confined to this place in cold space. He'd never admit it, but it seemed more and more that the reason keeping him at the spot was the inability to accept that Coreena maybe ultimately just hadn't made it, as much as Flann had finally let his life on the battlefield. Again Deraani called him, this time maybe even more urgent: "C'mon, Lochlin, let's go. They know where to go and if they haven't made it we're placing this whole mission in jeopardy just because you just can't let go."
So you've seen it, too, Deraani. Marcus looked a last time in the direction from where they should have come and then – finally – ordered them all out.
After exiting hyper space Blenwell was pleasantly surprised as the world they were approaching was not one of the worlds the Rebels normally tended to build their bases on with either fire-spitting volcanoes, waste deserts, mosquito-infested swamps or freezing ice wastes or everything combined on it, but a nice looking green, brown and blue spotted globe, circling its lonely sun in a considerably normal orbit. He smiled. Maybe they were supposed to stay only three standard days on it, but that would be three – or maybe more, considering the lesser size of the planet compared with Imperial Center – pleasant days at least. But more important issues were pressing right now.
"Seven to Twelve, everything okay?" Nothing. Then: "Of… course… You didn't… didn't think… you'd get rid of me… this easily, did you?" Blenwell smiled again. Kenzy was awake, alright. His smile faded as quick as it had appeared. The tone of her voice had told him that she wouldn't make it if they kept lingering in space any longer. He called Bantha V. "How're you holding, people? Can you make it down?" Bantha answered in an instant: "We're all okay, thank you. We called Noquivzor Base and they gave us landing permission. I take it that's for you, too, so see you down there." Tin warbled and told him that Bantha V had transferred them the landing coordinates. He called Kenzy again. "You still with us?"
"What else… did you… think… huh?", she replied.
"Well… a short yes would have done it, but anyway… you think you are capable of landing?", he asked what was the real point to him.
"Well… what… do you… think?" This was the answer he had least expected and for a moment he really was at a loss for words. Then he had made his decision. "Okay… we'll make it this way… you just lay back, try not to move and let your R2 do all the dirty work." He had expected some blocking answer or at least a light refusal but after some moments of silence she finally said: "Okay… just… get me… out of here… ASAP." The next sound he heard of her was something between a groan and a whimper and it frightened him. If Saron Kenzy whimpered over some injury it had to be something serious. We better get down now.
"Sir, we have a code three transmission from Imperial City." Desra Tellik, captain of the Imperial Class star destroyer Predator walked over to the young communications ensign and loomed over the crew pit like a hawk-bat over a nest of granite slugs. He fixated the ensign and ordered him to forward the message to his personal account. He knew of only one person on Coruscant who would send messages with such a high class code.
A short look at the message and rough skimming through confirmed what he had been looking forward to. And again a step farther away from here and a step nearer to the real empire. He allowed himself a little sardonic smile. And – of course – a step nearer home.
The comparatively short journey to the world called Noquivzor seemed like an eternity to Marcus. The whole time he just starred out into space, not seeing anything and not being able to grasp anything. She was dead. She had to be dead. And at the same time she could never be dead. It was all so confusing. Not that his feelings and thoughts were swirling before him like hyper space pattern, it was quite the opposite. He didn't feel anything at all, everything seemed to exist in a constant blur.
When they arrived at Noquivzor all his actions were that of a machine, a droid. He got them the landing clearing, set down his X-Wing, climbed out of it… and everything seemed to wear him out more. Slowly he did a scan of their surroundings but without seeing anything. Fatigue seemed to have taken control of him, and his movements seemed to be that of an old man. Two people he knew, liked, respected, loved had died today. One of them was Jaris Banon, his former wing-man until he had been assigned to Coreena, the one of his squad mates he had known the longest, his room-mate and – what was most important – his best friend. The other was a woman he hadn't actually known very long but always gave – had given, he corrected himself – him the feeling that he had known her for ages. His commander, his wing-mate… and he wished he could say his friend, but he'd never do that until he had the feeling that he had the right to feel like her friend. If ever a real grieve should set in he wouldn't only grieve her loss as a fellow soldier, a woman he had felt quite strongly for but also the lost opportunity to actually tell her.
He slumped against the front landing gear and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. Surprised he noted that it was shaking. This just had been too much. Gay Squadron had never had to experience such extensive losses as they had always been operating in comparatively quiet areas of space. They hadn't been one of the hotshot units like Red, Gold or Blue Squadron, only a unit that provided transport escorts, a medium sized raid from time to time, nothing really important. The change had been starting a few weeks before Dreis had left and Coreena had taken over after a particularly nasty raid session where Zifra had almost lost half of his crew. He had always been protective about the Liberty but after this all the fighter squadrons aboard were reduce to mere interstellar taxi drivers and/or were given only light escort duties. No raids on Imperial transports, no attacks on Imperial strongholds, no rescue missions, no nothing.
Marcus would have laughed at someone telling him he'd someday regret a change to this but now he actually did. He wished they'd never run into this drag ship, they'd never tried to become a real combat unit again if it only could bring Coreena and Jarvis back…
"Lieutenant Lochlin?" He looked up to see a young female Calamarian deck officer looking at him expectantly. If having turned her eyes towards him and blinking constantly really meant expectantly in Calamarian body language that was. He didn't take the efforts to be civil or politely, just said: "Yeah. What'dya want?" The Calamarian stopped blinking and the corners of her mouth twitched. Maybe it was the equivalent to a human smile. Maybe it was indignation. Whatever it was her tone remained even as she answered: "There are several things. First, your officer Lieutenant Kenzy is currently treated at our sick bay. Second is that we received a call from your commander, Captain Mallan, that she has some difficulties with her fighter and needs the assistance of a shuttle because her wing-man is unconscious. Normally some of our people are qualified to fly a shuttle but all of them are too inexperienced to even attempt such a mission. Commander Cranick asks if you can dispatch at least one of your pilots."
In a split second his world had turned upside down just again. She was alive. Without further thinking he decided: "I'll do it. Where's your shuttle?" The Calamarian slightly tilted her head and her warbles twitched. Whatever this meant, it seemed to be good because she retorted: "If you would follow me…" Minutes later they stood before a big shaped something covered with a camouflage net which turned out to be a battered and old looking lambda-class shuttle which seemed to have seen even the Clone Wars.
Just for once Marcus spared any derogative remarks about old piles of metal which still were called "ships" and just said: "Give me take off clearing and I'll be in orbit faster than you can spell "light speed"." The Calamarian bent down her head to nod and a few more minutes later Marcus actually was on his way to the two dots that marked Coreena and Flann. He just tried to ignore the strange and unpleasant noises the ship made and did his best to get this flying piece of junk as fast as he could to his squad mates.
When he finally was there, he was hailed by Coreena: "Gray Leader to flying tin can, you really took your time, didn't you?" He let out a sigh of relief, feeling as if he had held his breath from the escape to now. Smiling he quipped: "Flying tin can to Gray Leader, yes, I'm happy to see you up and healthy, too."
"Up, maybe but healthy… anyway, let's see what you can do for us. My R2's out, so I need some assistance with repairing my landing gear and the port control engines. You have still have your EV on or at least a vac suit with you in this… err… ship?" Luckily he had had enough brains to remember taking his helmet with him so he didn't have to rely on whatever worn and probably highly dysfunctional vacuum suit that maybe was lying somewhere around the unruly mess of electronic junk that filled half of the shuttle. He told her and waited for her affirmative. "Okay, then first look if you have some cable with you. Try to pluck it to Flann's fighter. You know how to drag a ship through atmosphere behind you, don't you?" eHE He hüfldvkvwrvbhwerkhhkwgolhwglohwh kuhiuhziuhzuiHe gave her an affirmative but in truth he'd only once done it in a simulator run. He hadn't been the worst – in fact he'd been one of the three best out of fourteen who had tried it – but a simulator run was nothing against real life. He just hoped everything would work out fine.
She went on with her instructions. "When you're done with this, come back. And bring a techy with you, we really need this to be done fast since I'm starving." He smiled. Never argue with a hungry woman. He agreed once again and began to work.
It had been three or fours standard hours Marten had been waiting for anything on Kenzy's status but the medics just insisted on "Rebel Alliance standard, meaning we don't give anything away about a patient status of health unless his or her immediate superior inquires anything", as one of them had put it. He had told them that her superior maybe was dead, that he had a right to know about her stats since he was her wing-mate, that he wouldn't tell anyone… But no, these pig-headed idiots just stuck to their stupid routine. They had tried to persuade him to see a doctor himself because of the black eye that was still circling his right eye and some cuts, burns and bruises the TIE-fighter attacks had given him but he had refused. Noquivzor was a base which had been founded not long ago and was still short of everything from power cells over food to medics. He knew of at least one of his squad mates who needed medical care a lot more than him.
Since she had been delivered into the improvised bunker that was the infirmary he had been pacing back and forth in front of it, only stopping occasionally to glance at the sky and look for arriving fighters or letting another stretcher with one of his comrades on it into the infirmary. From what he had gained from some talks between paramedics they had three severe cases, two medium injured and four light injured, totaling up to the remaining nine after the ambush.
He ran his hand over his eyes and paused for a moment, hearing footsteps coming towards him in a fast pace. He turned. Running towards him were Marcus and Captain Mallan. Well… they at least tried to run. Mallan was clutching her left wrist tight to her body and somewhat limping and Marcus was stumbling beside her. When they were in hearing range he tried to hide a smile behind his hand.
"Slow down, Cap, slow down…", Marcus said, and it earned him an annoyed glance and a snare.
"Will you just stop to… Ow! Get your fingers off my arm, you make it only worse!", she exclaimed and slapped him on his fingers with her right hand, at the same time wincing at the slightest movement. When they finally had reached him, she tried to regain some composure and said: "Well… did they tell you anything?" Marten laughed without humor and answered: "Yeah, that I don't have any right to be in there unless I give in and be treated myself." She looked at him and grinned as she saw the black eye. He noticed that she balanced carefully on her left foot while she take some of her weight off her right foot. So no-one of us got away without injuries.
He grinned at her and said: "They'll be so happy to have just another patient."
"You mean after they treated you?", she retorted and opened the door of the bunker but instead of entering she turned and looked expectantly at the men. "No-one volunteering for a back-up?" Both grinned with an embarrassed touch and finally Marcus said: "Sorry… but we originally agreed that we were definitely not injured enough to be allowed in." She made a face, returning: "You male pilots. Always the first to fight but when it comes to facing a medic… Now come on, or don't you want to spend your comrades a little comfort?" They looked at each other, shrugged and followed her.
After brushing away the last non-existent piece of dust on his spotless gray uniform Captain Desra Tellik straightened and knocked at the door to Admiral Chesfer's private office. He knew why the admiral had called him but he would be drawing some delight from this nonetheless.
The door slid open and Tellik walked in, bowing head in a curt salute and waiting for the admiral to answer. The bald, heavy-built man looked up form his data-cards and gave a salute back, then drew out a handkerchief and wiped over his bald head which was shining with sweat. Tellik had a hard time hiding a little self-satisfied smile. Obviously the announcement from Coruscant had reached the admiral. Well, either that or his frequent "visits" to the female prisoners in a section only few on the Predator knew it existed. And which was one reason why Tellik detested Chesfer so much.
After clearing his throats and shifting some of the data-cards aside, Chesfer motioned him to sit down which Tellik did with the natural mix of stiffness and reserve of a throne-worlder raised in a typical middle class officer's family tradition. He waited several more moments until Chesfer was finally ready to speak. Then the admiral said: "Some hours ago I received a message containing a great honor and a great inconvenience at the same time. If you'd please read it…" Chesfer handed him a data-pad and Tellik took it with the greatest pleasure. He skipped the official and politeness parts and read:
In one standard week from now you will have the great and inestimable honor to receive Lord Darth Vader himself aboard your flagship, the ISS Predator. His visit will have the time of about one week and will be extended if his further presence is demanded. The reasons for this visit are the Imperial Navy Regulations Book, here namely the section "Standard Performance Controls" with article four, paragraph two, sentence five, and the Imperial Intelligence Regulations Book with the section "Counter Intelligence and Inner Security", article five, paragraph six. Several occurrences in the last two months have made it necessary for us to investigate closer. As an attachment we sent you a list of rules and demands concerning Lord Darth Vader and his entourage.
Tellik knew all the regulations quoted in the letter and the warm feeling of absolute self-satisfaction spread through Tellik's body. He had made. He really had made it. He would be back in the Emperor's grace in a matter of days.
The sound of Chesfer clearing his throat thrust him back in the present. "So… what do you think of this, captain?" Tellik turned to the admiral, took a breath and said: "Well, it seems that you called someone's attention on Coruscant. And maybe made an enemy or two." The admiral looked up, glaring sharply at Tellik and said: "What do you mean by this?"
Tellik shrugged. "Just what I said. Just think about our fruitless attempts at capturing this Nebulon-B-frigate…" He let his voice trail and finish Chesfer the thought himself. The admiral huffed and once again wiped away the sweat from his forehead. "If our man would have made his work right this damned Gray Squadron wouldn't be interfering all the time. We should have gotten them two days ago. But instead we lost the Fearless. The third ship in two months. And we lost them to a squadron. Lord Vader surely doesn't come here to congratulate us on our achievements in spying on this rebel scum." Tellik nodded and found it harder with every moment to conceal a self-satisfied smile. Chesfer huffed again, then said: "You don't believe any o the crewmen tipped them off at Imperial Center, do you?" This was almost too much. But luckily Tellik had been taught to keep his countenance in every situation, and so he just shook his head and said: "I would not be too safe about this. But as the excellent commander that you are and the pleasure being here is for every of your crewmen I highly doubt this." The last sentence had been an utter and blatant lie. What the One-Eighty First had been for fighter pilots before a certain Soontir Fel had taken on re-carving them, the IV. Battle Group was for navy officers. But it obviously seemed to satisfy Chesfer as a smile spread over his face and he finally dismissed Tellik after a short casual talk.
A/N: Ain't that great? Although I'm at my grandma's (who's got not even a computer) I can finish and up-load chapters because I had the foresight to bring my laptop and a nice little cable I can go online with, with me! I love modern technology ^_^
Anyway, what do you think about this chapter? BTW, the idea with an Imperial spy on the Liberty came to me while I was thinking about… err, never mind, just would have been a spoiler for further chapters… Well…, the idea is courtesy of Jane, my muse, and I simply love her for that ::pats Jane on the head, gets a bite in the hand from Jane, hops like mad through her grandma's living room:: Lord, this hurts. Ahem… anyway… at the moment I'm working on chapter 14 which maybe will contain some fighting scenes so it would be nice of my last reviewer, Sith… to help me with them. Well… what else??? Oh yes, my most frequent reviewer Mariko created her own website and I bet she would be sooooooooo delighted if you'd take a look at it, peeps. Oh, and I brought another story online in the "historical"-section about Jeanne D'Arc (which brought me two reviews already... woohoo ^_^), maybe you are interested in it as well.