Chapter 2: Dark Science
Vhetin didn't know how long he was unconscious. It had to have been a while. When he suddenly regained awareness, however, his world was instantly flooded with pain and all thoughts of time were pushed from his mind. His head was pounding and his stab wound burned every time he inhaled. He grimaced and reached up to touch his face. There was something obscuring his eyes. Some kind of mask.
He pulled the mask off and was met with a wash of blinding white light. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, head throbbing. As his eyes so slowly adjusted, he saw that he was lying in the Facility's medical bay. There were doctors and med-techs bustling about, scrutinizing monitors and checking the vitals of other patients. A pair of stormtroopers stood guard over the door, rifles held at the ready.
Vhetin tried to sit up but found he couldn't. For a moment, he thought he was paralyzed. Then he looked down and saw that he was shackled to his cot by electro-shock restraints bound around his wrists, ankles, and throat. He tried to speak, but his lips felt numb and his throat was parched. All that came out was a weak rasp.
One of the passing doctors noticed him and immediately turned to a nearby comm terminal. She pressed the transmission button and said, "Doctor Torch to the med bay. The Primary has regained consciousness."
The med bay door opened a few moments later and Torch hurriedly stepped inside, accompanied by Nurse Monro. Torch was carrying a datapad, consulting the information that scrolled by on the screen. Vhetin was too dizzy and too far away to make out what it said. He eventually gave up and went limp against his restraints.
"You certainly have a talent for making my life difficult, Vhetin," Torch sighed as he approached. "Do you have any idea how many times I've had to convince the other Senior Researchers that you're more useful to them alive?"
He gestured to Nurse Monro and the two began to wheel Vhetin's cot out of the room, to the more private operating bay. As soon as the room's heavy blast door had slid shut, Torch tapped a code into a pad on the cot. With a buzz, the restraints around Vhetin's wrists and throat snapped open.
Vhetin sat up, wincing as he put stress on his wounded side. Torch put a cautionary hand on his shoulder and said, "Careful. Your wound isn't completely healed."
Vhetin nodded and took it slower. When he had finally fought his way into a sitting position, he rubbed his sore wrists and said, "Thanks. For getting me out of there. Those inmates would have killed me."
"Probably," Torch said, turning back to his datapad. "Fortunately, you're too valuable to this operation for the other scientists to turn a blind eye to your activities. Most of the other beings in here aren't so lucky."
Vhetin swallowed, having difficulty getting his dry throat to work again. Looking down, he saw that the stab wound in his side had been stitched up. It still hurt like he'd just been stabbed, but it wasn't openly bleeding any more. "You said that the other scientists were debating whether I'm worth all the trouble to keep alive. Have they reached a decision?"
"Surprisingly," Torch said, setting his pad on a nearby table, "Doctor Uthalian's was the voice that saved your life. He claimed that if you were to die, all the project would be left with is a set amount of research material from your corpse. As long as you're alive, you'll continue to produce an unlimited supply of DNA."
Vhetin scowled as Nurse Monro began checking his vitals. "How considerate of him."
Torch turned back to him with another syringe of bacta. "Right now, that argument is all that's keeping you alive. Be thankful it's a good one."
Vhetin didn't move as Torch injected the bacta into the skin just above his stab wound. He could feel the healing fluid entering his system, like ice water flowing through his veins.
"You said before I passed out that you wanted to speak with me," Vhetin said. "What about?"
Torch paused as he was disposing of the bacta syringe. Then he turned and folded his arms across his chest. He looked at Vhetin thoughtfully, cocking his head and saying, "You were a bounty hunter before you came here, correct?"
Vhetin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "I was."
"You had ties to criminal organizations, correct?"
"I did."
"Tell me about it. Your profession."
"Why?"
Torch shrugged. "I'm curious. We have spoken some about your job during our interviews, but I don't have as much information as I would like."
Vhetin was still suspicious, but he slowly relaxed. It wasn't as if he could say anything that could be harmful to anyone he knew. He'd been out of the profession for three months now and in his business people moved on quickly. So he shrugged and said, "There was really nothing to it. Someone wanted another person tracked down or captured, they'd hire me. I'd go out and either find the target and report its location or subdue, capture, and bring it back to my employer. Once I was done, I was paid. It was good work if you could stay alive long enough to reap the benefits."
"I was hoping for something a little more specific."
"What do you want to know?"
"Corulag," Torch said. "Fifteen months ago. Imperial Intelligence operatives suspect your involvement in the destruction of a top-secret military prison and the capture of the local commander."
"They suspect," Vhetin echoed. "It can't be proven that I was actually there."
"Were you?"
He hesitated, then raised an eyebrow and said, "Off the record?"
"Of course."
"Yes. I was hired to capture General Ponsius Luun. Things got messy, but I got him and turned him over to my employer."
"Yes, reports list Luun as missing in action. But there is also one other body that was never recovered: a young woman. Captain Jayshiea Kolta."
Vhetin narrowed his eyes again as Torch continued. "She was scheduled for execution, but in the aftermath of the attack, she was never found. It is believed that she tried to escape into the maintenance tunnels beneath the outpost's anti-aircraft batteries and was killed when the batteries were destroyed and the tunnels collapsed."
"I don't hear a question."
"Did you help her to escape? Off the record, again."
Vhetin debated whether or not to tell him. Torch and his nurse were among the few scientists he didn't despise here at the Facility. But they were still Imperials. Did that make them untrustworthy?
Parting with such sensitive information could bring harm to Jay. That was the last thing he wanted. But what would it change? Even if the Imperials suddenly found out that the bounty hunter known as Jaimie Moqena was really the fugitive Jayshiea Kolta, they wouldn't be able to get at her. She was an accomplished bounty hunter in her own right, and knew how to handle herself.
So he looked at Doctor Torch and said, "If you tell this information to anyone, I swear that I will hunt you down and kill you."
"Understood," Torch said calmly.
Vhetin nodded, half to himself, then said, "Yes. I was asked to free her. She was innocent of the crimes she was accused of and deserved better than to rot away in prison before execution. I gave her a chance at a new life."
"And what did she do with her new life?"
"She decided that she wanted me to teach her how to be a bounty hunter."
"That's quite a leap from being a navy pilot," Nurse Monro commented.
"She wanted to get back at people like the ones who had branded her a traitor," Vhetin explained. "To stop them before they did to others what they did to her. As good a reason as any to join in."
"And what did you do?"
"What do you think?" Vhetin said. "I taught her everything I know. We worked as partners for almost a year. We were still working together when the Tracker kidnapped me and brought me here."
Torch nodded, thinking over this new information. Eventually he looked back up to meet Vhetin's gaze. "And what do you believe happened to her after your capture?"
"Who knows?" Vhetin said with a shrug. Even if he was willing to part with the details of how he'd met Jay, he wasn't about to let Torch or Monro know just how much his partner meant to him. That was information too easily manipulated to work against him. So he feigned indifference. "She may be working contracts for Jabba the Hutt or be dead in some Vulpter back-alley."
"What if I could help you?" Torch said. He produced a palm-sized holoprojector from his pocket and activated it. It began playing a news report from a HoloNet station Vhetin didn't recognize.
A human news anchor was speaking about what looked like a raid on an Imperial military base. She was standing before the smoldering ruin of what looked like a comm relay building. Smoke poured out of the building's windows and there were fires burning openly on the ground nearby. A toppled AT-ST, also on fire, was sprawled across the doorway.
"Casualties are surprisingly low, considering the damage to the facility," the woman was saying, "and we have no details yet about the purpose of the attack. Authorities, however, have released an image of the suspect, which was taken from a security feed shortly before the outpost lost power."
The hologram now showed the blurry still image of a human female with long, dark hair. She was wearing a dark jacket with a lighter undershirt and had a pistol raised, firing at some unseen enemy.
"Eyewitnesses have claimed that this attacker was not working alone," the anchor continued, "but that there were several others operating with her. However, the rumors of her accomplices range from tales of cyborg Trandoshans to Mandalorian Warriors. It may be some time before authorities are able to tell truth from exaggeration. Reporting live from the Tenteen-Seven military base-"
Torch shut down the hologram and quickly tucked it back into his pocket. He and Nurse Monro both looked at Vhetin expectantly.
He didn't know what to believe. The image could have been Jay – the hair was right and she looked as if she was dressed the same as he remembered – and the rumors of Mandalorian accomplices strengthened the claim. But he knew hope was dangerous in a place like the Facility. If it wasn't her, he was just wasting his time.
"The image was too blurry," he eventually said. "It could be anyone."
"TheTenteen-Seven military base was one of the original locations of Project Whiteclaw," Torch said. "The project was based there for several months before the Facility's construction was completed and everything was moved here."
"And you think that she's doing what? Trying to take apart the Whiteclaw Project piece by piece?"
"She's looking for you," Monro said softly. "Over the last three months, several officials tied to the Project have reported being assaulted or have simply disappeared. Someone is systematically working their way up the ranks."
Vhetin stared at Monro for a few moments, then shook his head and said, "Jay isn't stupid. She knows what the Empire is capable of. If I taught her any sense at all, she'll stay as far away from me as she possibly can."
"From what you've said so far," Torch said, "she doesn't seem like one who would abandon her allies."
"You rescued her from prison," Monro added. "Perhaps she is attempting to return the favor."
He shook his head again, trying to force himself to maintain his skepticism. He half hoped that Jay wasn't looking for him. He had chosen to be taken in to protect her. If she was hurt or killed trying to find him again...
He eventually scowled and looked to Torch again. "Why are you telling me this?"
Torch took a deep breath, picked up a stylus, and began writing down medical information on Vhetin's arm. It was a common way of letting other medical technicians know what treatment a test subject had already been given.
"Interesting thing," Torch said absently as he was writing, "about the security systems inside the Facility... each test subject has a unique code to their restraints. It was designed so that if someone attempted to hack the system and they miraculously got their hands on a release code, there would be no way of knowing who the code belonged to.
"Now, because of budget and time restraints," he continued, "Those who built this place weren't able to lock out the prisoner's security codes from the rest of the system. They compensated by increasing the security on the prisoners. But that backdoor is still in place; any prisoner with the right information has free access into the Facility's computers."
He finished writing and stepped away. "So when the Facility's retinal scanners verify someone's identity, as long as they have their code they can access anything in the system. Security cams, communications, cell block doors..."
He tucked his hands into his pockets and a grave look settled on his face. He paused for a few moments, then said, "A disturbance was reported about an hour ago near the front gates of the Facility. Two troopers thought we were under attack. It was written off as a false alarm, but the security forces have since lost contact with the reporting troopers. We've yet to find out what happened, but something is going on."
He motioned for Monro to follow him out the door. He patted Vhetin's shoulder as he passed. "Think about what I've said, my friend."
He keyed in the release code for the surgical bay's doors and motioned to the trooper guards that he was finished. The soldiers would escort Vhetin back to his cell for the night.
As the troopers approached, Torch turned back to Vhetin, a sad look on his face.
"I hope that you meet your partner again," he said. "Sooner rather than later."
Vhetin stared after him as he and Nurse Monro left the surgical bay, replaced by two white-armored stormtroopers.
Torch was odd enough, at least when compared to his fellow Whiteclaw scientists. But this behavior was a whole new level of weird. Did he seriously just part with information that would allow Vhetin to escape? At best, that could be considered gross negligence. At worst, Torch and his assistant could be branded traitors.
No, Torch wouldn't risk so much just to help out a test subject he'd known for three months. He may have been soft on the prisoners, but he wasn't stupid.
It was only as the troopers unshackled his legs and began escorting him back to the cell block that he happened to look down at his arm, where the doctor had written his shorthand medical report. Instead of the usual medical jargon – how many CCs of various medication Vhetin had been given or orders for future treatment – he saw that Doctor Torch had instead written down a random series of numbers and letters.
Or maybe not so random, he thought.
Each test subject has a unique code to their restraints, Torch had said. Any prisoner with the right information has free access into the Facility's computers. Security cams, communications, cell block doors...
He looked up as he was brought back into the medical bay. Torch and Monro were attending to a patient who was reacting adversely to the effects of the Tests. The man was slumbering peacefully while Torch studied his vital signs and inspected him for any symptoms of cellular degeneration. The doctor happened to look up as Vhetin passed. He met Vhetin's gaze and nodded ever so slightly.
Vhetin nodded back, trying to sum up all his thanks into the miniscule motion. Torch had given him a chance to leave this place. Whether the guards losing contact was a sign of something or if it was merely an accident, it would provide him with the distraction necessary to put a plan into action. And if he managed to escape, he could return to Mandalore and everything he loved.
He was determined not to waste that chance.
The woman in white clambered cautiously through the air ducts of the medical station. It was a tight fit, but she was just able to shimmy through the ducts without making noticeable noise.
She had made several stops during her infiltration: once to drop a surveillance beacon in the stormtrooper quarters, once to avoid detection by a passing trooper patrol, and once because the air ducts suddenly switched on, blowing a torrent of foul-smelling air through the ventilation system. Now she stopped again and triggered her comm. It was time to check in and alert her companions of her progress.
"This is the Handmaiden," she whispered. "I am inside the facility. I should arrive at the cell block within ten minutes."
"Step it up, Les," came the voice of the team leader. "We're running short on time. Trassk has almost got the defenses down. You need to have eyes on the target before he does."
"I will try," she said. "But this facility's guard patrols are more frequent than I anticipated. I must travel slowly or risk detection."
"All right. Be careful, but you need to get there quickly."
"As you wish," Handmaiden said. She signed off the comm channel and clambered forward. There was a maintenance hatch in the vents ahead. If her observations had been correct, she should be coming up on a junction of ventilation shafts. One of the branching shafts should lead to the cell block, and her target.
She carefully pried open the maintenance hatch and peered down. There was a small room below, lit with dull blue lights. A single human man was within, inspecting the gratings that covered the entrances to the many other ventilation systems.
The Handmaiden drew herself up as best she could inside the air duct. Then she pushed herself forward and down, out of the shaft. She grabbed the lip of the maintenance hatch and pivoted as she fell, righting herself so when she landed she struck the man below her with both boots on his shoulders. The man let out a surprised cry, but she bent down and covered his mouth with her gloved hands, silencing him. Pushing off his shoulders, she leaped off of him and used her momentum to shove him away. He was thrown to the ground and his head slammed into the duracrete floor, knocking him unconscious. She landed lightly on her feet, having barely made a sound.
Her pale blue eyes darted around the room, searching for the right ventilation shaft. The air duct she was looking for was marked TX-4, the name of the cell block she was attempting to reach. It didn't take long to find it. The duct was near the floor but, thankfully, larger than the one she had used to infiltrate. Like before, she kicked in the grate, climbed in, then replaced the cover before turning and making her way deeper into the labyrinth.
The crackling of his comm woke the disoriented maintenance worker. He grimaced, slowly clambering to his feet and rubbing his throbbing head.
"Hey, Thorne," the voice over his comm said, "come in, buddy. Where the hell are you?"
He grunted and replied, "In the ventilation junction. Ah... I must have slipped and hit my head."
"Well get back down here. Everyone's jumpy enough as it is. Rumor has it those white jobs up at the gates went missing. The last thing we need is you conking your head on every available surface."
"Copy that," the man said. He turned and left the room, wondering why he remembered seeing a flash of white before he hit his head.
Vhetin was truly glad to be returned to his cell. After a long day of Tests, fights with inmates, and now rumors of a potential escape attempt, he was tired as hell. His head was throbbing, his stab wound still hurt, and every muscle in his body was sore. He all but collapsed onto his cot when the troopers shoved him into his cell.
As soon as the troopers were out of sight, Vhetin closed his eyes and said, "So... how was your day?"
"Not bad," Mantis replied through the hole in the wall. "No Tests for me, so I can't complain. How about you?"
"I was stabbed in the ribs," Vhetin said with a pained chuckle.
"I heard about that. There were medics scrambling up and down the cell block on their way to you."
Vhetin slowly sat up with a frown. "Can I ask you something?"
"We've got an hour or so before lights out," Mantis replied. "We've got some time for conversation."
"Do you trust Doctor Torch?"
"Trust him?" Mantis thought over this for a few moments. "I guess so. He seems nice enough. And Nurse Monro is pretty attractive. Smells nice. Doesn't take much more to get in my good books. Why do you ask?"
"He... he may have given me a ticket out of here."
"What?" Mantis sounded shocked. "What are you talking about?"
Vhetin looked down at the code written onto his arm. He had memorized the series of letters and numbers on his way back to his cell. "He says that all the Facility's security systems are based around code access that's given to everyone who walks through the doors. And each prisoner has a unique code that – theoretically – could give them control of any system in the entire complex."
"What, so we all have access to the doors but we just don't know it? Why the kriff would the designers do that?"
"Budget cuts," Vhetin said. "Apparently the project had to go into effect before they were completely finished with the security systems. The Imps compensated by keeping the codes to themselves and doubling the guard over the prisoners."
"Okay," Mantis said slowly. "That sounds ridiculous."
"The Imperials have been known to overlook massive design flaws. I heard rumors about a Star Destroyer they designed that had an open exhaust port that led right to the main reactor. A single proton torpedo down the shaft would have destroyed the entire ship."
"Fine," Mantis said. "I have to agree with you on that one. But even if this is all true, how could you pull it off from inside your cell? You'd have to find someone who knows your code and somehow get them to-"
Vhetin was still staring down at his arm. "Torch gave me the code."
Mantis was silent for a few moments, then he burst out laughing. "He what? Oh, I'd give my left arm to see Uthalian's face when he finds out about that."
"Torch also said there's something going on topside. Apparently they've lost contact with a couple of troopers on the surface."
"Yeah, I heard some of the tin cans down here talking about that. Think Torch sees it as a threat?"
"I think that whatever is going on is more ominous than anything that's happened in the past three months," Vhetin said. "This is a top-secret facility. Even if it's just some pirate gang that stumbled onto our location, it's a potential distraction."
"Good point. When are you going to make your move?"
"Tonight," Vhetin said. "After lights out."
"Good luck," Mantis chuckled. "You're gonna need it."
Vhetin nodded, half to himself. After a few moments, Mantis spoke again.
"Hey Vhetin?"
"Yeah."
"If you do manage to get control of the computer systems... if Torch isn't lying to you and if everything goes to plan... do you think you could open the rest of the cell doors? Give us civvies a chance at freedom too?"
Vhetin looked over at the tiny hole in the wall that allowed them to communicate. Then he nodded. "Consider it done."
Mantis sounded relieved. "Good. I'll be looking forward to it."
"You do realize that if there's a mass breakout, all the inmates will be out as well? They'll tear this place apart."
"Kriff them," he chuckled. "If there's a mass breakout, the Imps are going to turn loose those Darktrooper droids. I'll be lucky if I make it a meter out my cell door. But as long as there's a chance, I'm going to try."
Vhetin nodded to himself, understanding where the man was coming from. "If that's the case, ret'urcye mhi."
"What does that mean?"
"Maybe we'll meet again."
Mantis was silent for a time. Then he sighed and said, "It'll be good to get out of here after three months, even if only for a few seconds."
Vhetin sat back against the wall, still staring down at the code on his arm. He eventually rubbed it away so no one could accidentally discover it there. He thought of what Torch had said, that Jay might be orchestrating a rescue mission. He thought of going back to Mandalore, to Jay and Rame and Brianna.
Then he truly smiled for the first time since his capture and said, "You have no idea."
The troopers at the front gates were nervous. Eight-Three and Four-Two had gone missing and their bodies had yet to be recovered. Though the brass wrote it off as an accident, the reports did nothing to calm the soldiers sent to replace the two. They paced back and forth, hefting their rifles anxiously, scanning their surroundings and keeping an eye on their HUD systems for anything unusual.
So, when an Imperial shuttle landed without authorization on the designated pad outside, the guards were less than pleased. They grew even more uneasy when they saw the beings that strode down the landing ramp and made their way resolutely toward the facility.
Security cams picked up the entire scene. The group was led by an attractive woman dressed in a neatly-pressed Imperial uniform with her brown hair tucked under a regulation navy cap. She was flanked on either side by a silent and dangerous-looking Royal Red Guard that held a powerful force pike at the ready. Following behind her was a short, blue-skinned Twi'lek girl who looked no older than eighteen, tapping hurriedly into a datapad – the woman's aide, perhaps. An athletically-built woman in a black uniform brought up the rear, her long brown hair pulled back in a tight braid, dark brown eyes intently studying the assembled guards.
The troopers glanced between each other, unsure of these newcomers. It was unlike the Facility to have uninvited visitors. Usually, inspections were planned months in advance. The guards shifted from foot to foot, unsure whether to draw their weapons or wait to see what was going on.
"Lieutenant Commander," one of the troopers said to the woman leading the group. He had obviously noticed the ranking bar's on the chest of her uniform. As soon as he spoke, all the trooper guards present immediately stood at attention and snapped off a salute.
The woman nodded and returned the salute, her motions conveying years of military training. "Who is the ranking officer here?"
One trooper stepped forward, a little nervously. He saluted again. "Sergeant Ven Bindo, ma'am."
"Lieutenant Commander Jessic Wara," the woman said, hooking her hands behind her back and raising her chin imperiously. "Administrative aide to Special Agent Mari Mason, Imperial Intelligence. We're here to conduct an inspection."
"We..." Sergeant Bindo swallowed anxiously and began to sweat. The two Red Guards flexed their grip on their force pikes menacingly. "We don't have you on our schedule, ma'am. If you could return with proper clearance-"
"We have permission from Director Isard himself," Lieutenant Commander Wara interjected. "Call to confirm clearance if you wish."
"Just one moment, ma'am," Bindo said. He turned and all but ran back to the security outpost. He activated the comm unit and contacted the security dispatch office.
"Dispatch. What is your request?"
"Sergeant Bindo here. We have an I.I. agent requesting access to the Facility."
"Another inspection?"
"Yeah. Can you run the name Special Agent Mari Mason? They say they have permission from Armand Isard."
For a few moments, there was silence over the comm. Then the dispatcher said, "Clearance just came through, Sergeant. Let them pass."
Bindo nodded and made his way back to the group. He saluted again and said, "Apologies for the inconvenience, Lieutenant Commander. You're clear to proceed."
The Lieutenant Commander nodded curtly and set off with her group toward the heavy blast doors that led to the interior of the Facility. Special Agent Mason threw a glare at the sergeant as she passed, but disappeared past the security checkpoints without a word. After a few moments, the entire group disappeared inside.
Once the inspectors had entered the facility, a white-clad doctor ushered them to a private meeting room to wait for their guide. The doctor quickly disappeared, looking glad to leave their presence. After only a few moments, they were alone.
As soon as he was gone, Special Agent Mason suddenly let out an explosive sigh and wiped her forehead. "Wow. For a second, I didn't think we were going to make it."
One of the Red Guards pulled his contoured helmet off, revealing a young man with messy blond hair beneath. "You had it easy. If our cover was blown, who were they going to shoot at first? The unarmed Special Agent, or the badass Red Guard?"
"And we owe it all to little Ti'ica," said the other Guard said. He, too, pulled off his helmet. This man had a gaunt face and unkempt black hair. He chuckled and patted the Twi'lek girl on the head. The girl shook her head indignantly, a motion that made her lekku flap against her shoulders, and continued tapping into her datapad.
"Don't distract me," she snapped. "I'm trying to concentrate."
The man shrugged and said, "Whatever. It was still impressive, the way you hacked into that trooper's comms."
"No less impressive than your acting, Rame," said Agent Mason. "You actually sounded like a dispatch officer. You would have fooled me."
The so-called lieutenant commander turned to the Twi'lek. "Status report, Ti'ica."
The blue-skinned girl didn't stop her work on her pad. "In the last five minutes, I've deactivated six different alarms that stupid Trandoshan has set off. He's bumbling around in the system like a blind rancor."
The blond man chuckled. "They can't all be as good as you are."
He turned to the imposter lieutenant commander and rested his hands on his armored hips. "What now, boss?"
The woman pulled off her cap and shook loose her shoulder-length brown hair. She tossed the cap casually aside and took a deep breath. After only a moment, she turned to the black-haired man.
"Rame, you need to get into the maintenance bays. Try and find a way to sabotage the Darktroopers. The last thing we need is those things running around blasting everything in sight."
Rame nodded and began pulling off red armor plates, revealing a maintenance worker's uniform underneath. The woman nodded back, satisfied, and turned to the blond man. "Laniff, you need to get into the doctor's quarters. Try and find out what the hell they're doing here. If you can, download this facility's records database. I'm sure Ti'ica should be able to help you gain access."
The man threw her a mock salute and quickly slipped out of his armor, revealing the uniform of one of the Facility's doctors beneath. Once finished, he grabbed Rame's discarded armor from where it was resting on a nearby table, then hopped up on top of a chair and tucked the fake suits up above one of the loose ceiling grates.
The lieutenant commander continued issuing orders. "Ti'ica, you need to get somewhere quiet, safe, and out of the way so you can keep an eye on Trassk's work. If he's having as much trouble as you say, he'll need your help."
"Already on it."
She gestured to the other woman. "Shae, you're with me. We're going to get the grand tour. See if we can find out what they're doing here from the people who are running it."
Shae nodded and headed for the door. Before the two could leave, however, Rame called after the first woman.
"Jay. You've been waiting for this for a long time. Good luck."
The woman turned back to Rame and nodded. "Thanks. Hopefully, we won't need it."
The she turned away and hooked a comm unit into her ear. She opened a private channel as she and Shae walked.
"Report in. How are we doing?"
"Hmm," Trassk's slithery voice hissed, "thiss security ssystem iss proving more difficult to sslice than I anticipated."
"How soon?"
"We should have accesss in fifteen minutess."
"Handmaiden?"
"I have almost reached the cell block. I will be there in five minutes."
"Good progress, but remember we're on a clock now. It won't take long for these Imps to catch on that there's something wrong. Keep your eyes open."
"I shall."
Then Jay and her companion set off down the hall, toward the angry-looking Twi'lek waiting for them. Jay narrowed her eyes in determination and whispered, "Oya."
The Imperial doctor greeted Shae as she and Jay approached. Jay looked him up and down, studying him closely. He was a tall, purple-skinned Twi'lek with violet eyes. He had his lekku tied back to make them less noticeable; this man obviously thought appearances were important. He was wearing a pristine white lab coat and was carrying a personal datapad.
He held out his hand in greeting. "I'm Doctor Temminath Kasiporo, one of the Senior Researchers of Project Whiteclaw. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Shae did not move to shake his hand, continuing to play the part of the terrifying Intelligence Agent. She narrowed her eyes and said, "The Office of Imperial Intelligence is disappointed with this operation's lack of progress. Director Isard wants this matter resolved quickly."
"Of course. I'm sure the good Director is most interested to learn of our operations. But I must ask if you have the necessary security clearance."
"We have clearance, I assure you," Jay said.
"Nevertheless, I must see it myself."
Jay cursed inside. They had faked their clearance to enter the Facility. Having the correct permissions to conduct an inspection was something else entirely. She cast about desperately for an excuse.
"I'll need to clear this with the Intelligence," she eventually said. Her voice betrayed none of the nervousness she felt. She pulled her datapad from the inside of her uniform jacket and turned away. Hopefully, this Doctor Kasiporo would believe she was contacting her superiors.
In actuality she was contacting Ti'ica. She sent the slicer a text message that read, NEED INSPECTION AUTHORIZATION ASAP. THE MORE OFFICIAL-LOOKING THE BETTER. USE ISARD'S SIGNATURE.
It took only a few moments for Ti'ica to send her the forged documents; they had prepared for this eventuality before ever setting out. The files were accompanied with the text message, WOULD YOU LIKE FRIES WITH THAT?
Jay hid a smile as she saw that the girl had not only supplied Jay with the necessary clearance, but had also sent her the vid file of Director Isard himself giving them access to all classified materials. Of course it wasn't the real Armand Isard. In reality, it was an animated 3D hologram that Jaing Skirata had pieced together using various images of the Director and snippets of his voice. The old clone had spent almost two months creating the image, even though it was only a few seconds long, and his painstaking work was for very good reason. If they were going to use it to infiltrate an Imperial base, authenticity was crucial.
Jay hoped it would fool Doctor Kasiporo. She turned back to the doctor and presented her pad. "I'm sure you'll find everything in order."
Kasiporo looked through the files with a bored gaze. He raised an eyebrow as he played through the vid file. The holographic image of "Director Isard" sprang to life in mid-air over the pad's surface.
"This is Imperial Intelligence Director Armand Isard," the hologram said in Isard's deep, gravelly voice. "I hereby grant this inspection team access to all classified materials pertaining to Operation Whiteclaw. Long live the Emperor."
Kasiporo nodded to himself as the holo shut down and handed back the datapad. "Everything seems to be official. I'll send the documents to the Guard Command for confirmation."
Jay's cursed inwardly. Ti'ica was good, but forged documents would never stand up under intense scrutiny. They wouldn't have very long now. But she nodded and took the pad back. As Shae kept the Doctor busy with minor questions about budget concerns, Jay sent everyone on the team a quick message: DOCUMENTS ARE IN SYSTEM. STEP UP OBJECTIVES. NOT MUCH TIME.
Then she turned back to the others and waited for Doctor Kasiporo to begin the tour. The Twi'lek spoke with Shae some more before he eventually gestured for them to follow him. Shae glanced over her shoulder at Jay, raising an eyebrow as if to say, we're in over our heads.
Jay just strode resolutely forward, following Doctor Kasiporo. She fell into step next to him as he led them through twisting halls and intersections crowded with white-clad scientists.
"The details of Project Whiteclaw are a closely guarded secret," Jay said, praying that she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. "What exactly is the goal of this operation?"
"Director Isard doesn't know?"
Shae jumped in. "Very few are close enough to the Director to be briefed in person. We were simply told to conduct an inspection of Project Whiteclaw, with the knowledge that the scientists were conducting experiments using dangerous biotechnology."
"I'm not surprised he didn't brief you more thoroughly," Kasiporo said. "We are under the direct supervision of Lord Vader himself. Even Director Isard must be careful not to release information has deemed classified, for risk of suffering the consequences."
"Lord Vader is here?" Jay asked, feeling a slight shiver of panic. Darth Vader was the most powerful Imperial in the galaxy, second only to the Emperor in infamy. His spies were everywhere, and if the spies didn't catch you Vader's powerful command of the Force would.
Jay had only met the him on one occasion, when the Sith Lord had traveled to the prison where she had been held after being accused of treason. He had interrogated her for hours, using his supernatural abilities to physically beat her into submission. Jay still had nightmares about that horrible day, still woke up in a cold sweat at night, shaking uncontrollably.
But, thankfully, Kasiporo shook his head. "Lord Vader has much more important things to do than babysit the Project. He makes occasional checkups, but usually does little more than request weekly reports on our progress."
They passed a heavy durasteel door marked with a biohazard sign. Kasiporo gestured to it and said, "Project Whiteclaw is stage one of an advanced research project hoping to discover the secret of human biological augmentation. Using a mixture of gene therapy and viral research, we hope to be able to medically make soldiers stronger, faster, and smarter."
"How, exactly?" Shae inquired.
"It's really quite simple," Kasiporo said. Jay was willing to bet it was anything but. "There are a myriad of near-human species with vastly superior physical or mental traits. The Torenz are able to see in the dark, the Echani possess reflexes faster than those of any human, and the inhabitants of Dathomir have an uncanny connection to the Force. It was simply a matter of finding a near-human species with the right traits and finding a way to transfer those traits to normal humans."
"What species?" Jay asked, trying to sound casual. She typed the doctor's information into her datapad, storing it for later use and hanging on his every word. What he said next would spell out either the potential success or certain doom of their mission.
Please don't let all of this be for nothing, she thought to herself. Let Cin be here.
"A rare sub-species of Kiffar," Kasiporo said, "known as the Salpatians."
Jay almost collapsed from elation. He was here! Her partner was here! Months of searching and she finally had him! She thought of the moment when they would meet again, after three months of separation. The last time she had seen him, she had promised that she would find him again and free him. She couldn't wait to show him that she had kept her promise.
Of course, she let none of her excitement show. She just raised an eyebrow and said, "I've never heard of them."
"The Salpatian species teeters on the verge of extinction," the Doctor explained. "A centuries-long decrease in population has led to the near-annihilation of their race. The Project could track down less than one hundred in the entire galaxy, and could only safely capture a single specimen."
Jay boiled inside when she heard the Twi'lek refer to her partner as a specimen, but entered this information into her datapad. Thankfully, Shae was playing her role of I.I. agent perfectly, keeping Kasiporo's focus on her. She seemed genuinely interested when she asked, "What led to the population drop?"
"Genetic deficiency, ironically," Kasiporo said. "The Salpatian species are genetically superior in almost every way to humans. They possess twenty-six pairs of chromosomes, which leads to physical mutation from the typical Kiffar physiology. Unfortunately, because of this unique chromosomal set, the species is not able to interbreed with other near-humans or true humans. They can only successfully reproduce with other Salpatians."
"Doesn't that mean they would have a high population on their homeworld?"
"Unfortunately not. The Salpatians were forced out of their ancestral home on Kiffu by the larger numbers of pureblood Kiffar. As their race spread across the stars, contact with other Salpatians decreased, leading to the direct decrease of their birth rate. Eventually, they just faded away until there are less than a hundred living today."
"And these Salpatians have all the traits you are looking for?" Jay asked. "Like what?"
"The specimen we have on-site demonstrates remarkable strength, speed, and agility," Kasiporo explained. "His senses are at least seventeen percent better than humans, allowing him to see clearer, hear better, and move faster. He has near-perfect balance, enhanced reflexes, and incredible cognitive capabilities."
"Seventeen percent?" Shae echoed. "Doesn't sound like much of a supersoldier."
"If our soldiers could experience an increase of even ten percent, the Project would be considered a success. If we can bond Salpatian abilities to human physiology, we could then shift our attention to amplifying those abilities. We could achieve increases of over fifty percent."
Shae's eyebrows shot up and she let out a low whistle. "Now that would be impressive."
"Indeed. As it is, however, our research is moving quite slowly."
Jay cocked her head, easily hiding how pleased she was by that news. She pretended to tap hurriedly into her datapad. "How so?"
"Though we have successfully created a carrier agent for Salpatian genetic mutations," Kasiporo explained, leading them toward a shielded blast door, "the results of gene synthesis on human tissue have been... severe."
"Explain."
"The biggest problem we have faced is the molecular decay of the test subjects," he said, bringing them to a halt in front of the door. "Salpatian DNA seems to be increasingly volatile when fused with the cellular structure of humans. To the naked eye, the test subjects' bodies seem to swiftly deform and decompose while their mental abilities are similarly destroyed."
"Not very effective for implantation into soldiers," Shae said, her voice almost casual.
Jay just stared at Kasiporo with barely-concealed revulsion. They were actually doing this to people? Injecting their serum and watching their prisoners waste away before their eyes? It was sick, more disgusting than anything she had encountered from the Empire so far.
"How badly does this decay effect the test subjects?" she eventually asked.
Kasiporo shrugged and said, "See for yourself," then turned and pressed a key on the control panel next to the blast door. There was a loud hiss as the door unsealed, then slid up into its housing in the ceiling.
Beyond the blast door was a room blocked off by a thick sheet of transparisteel and marked with a large holographic sign that read INTENSIVE CARE UNIT. It looked empty to Jay, just four white walls. There were no hospital beds, no medical monitoring equipment. She didn't even see a door. She frowned and took a step closer to the transparisteel, aware of Shae doing the same next to her.
She felt more than saw the test subjects as they suddenly threw himself against the transparisteel, seeming to appear from nowhere. The hollow thud as they slammed against the clear surface of the barrier reverberated through the air. Both women jumped back, Jay with a gasp of surprise, Shae with a curse.
There were six of them, clawing at the smooth transparisteel and gnashing yellowed, crooked-looking teeth. Their eyes were sunk deep in their heads and they had open sores all over their bodies. Their dry, cracked skin seemed to hang off their bones, making them look more dead than alive. They were letting out deep, mournful-sounding moans as they desperately clawed at the surface of the transparisteel, as if they had no idea they could not escape.
Shae slowly took a step closer, staring at the test subjects with horrified fascination. Jay kept her distance, trying not to gag as she watched the creatures' slow, jerking movements and the way their fat, swollen tongues lolled out of their mouths.
"What's wrong with them?" Shae whispered, watching as one creature tried to claw at her face.
"Molecular degeneration, mostly," Kasiporo said, observing the test subjects calmly, though their groping hands were only inches from his purple-skinned face. "When their cellular structure breaks down, they develop open wounds on their bodies. Their brain undergoes a similar breakdown, resulting most prominently in a massive decrease in cognitive abilities. The Salpatian mutation also leads to a complete shutdown of serotonin receptors in their brains, leading to greatly increased aggression levels. That is why we had to put up the barrier; they were ripping through their restraints and attacking the doctors."
"What, just like that?" Jay asked. "Are you using sub-grade restraints?"
"Not at all. It seems that one physical mutation that does work is the Salpatian's enhanced strength and speed. They are unnaturally strong and were able to rip their electro-shock cuffs from their beds."
"What happened to the doctors who were attacked?" Shae asked, still gazing at the creatures with shocked fascination.
"They were infused with the carrier agent for our serum. They suffered severe side-effects, though we were successfully able to administer the antiviral to most of them in time."
"Most? What happened to the others?"
Kasiporo pointed to a single male test subject wearing a tattered and bloodstained white labcoat. "Doctor Pensa attempted to hide his wound from us. We were not able to administer the antidote in time."
"You mentioned viral testing," Shae said, finally tearing her gaze away from the mutilated test subjects.
"Of course. It was essential to our research."
"How so?"
"If the project is a success, we would be forced to perform medical injections to virtually every member of the Imperial military. Such a process could take years. Yet with a virus, we could naturally spread our product across thousands of troops in a matter of days."
"What about others they interacted with?" Jay inquired as they set off again, away from the ICU and the monsters it held within. "I don't believe you want the soldier's families or friends becoming supersoldiers as well."
"Of course the soldiers would have to be quarantined until they were no longer a contamination threat," Kasiporo said.
"And how long would that take?"
"As of yet we have no working form of the serum, so there is no way to tell."
Jay nodded thoughtfully and relayed this information into her datapad for later review. Kasiporo just continued his lecture. "We also have a minor problem with some subjects' immunity to gene synthesis, but it is too uncommon to be a concern."
"What about your Salpatian test subject?" Jay said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "What side-effects has he experienced?"
"Minor degeneration similar to the kind experienced by the test subjects. He is in relatively good health. Doctor Torch is seeing to that."
Jay nodded, tapping this into her pad. "And what about his psychometric abilities? Are you attempting to find a way to transfer those?"
"Unfortunately, the scientific community has no idea what causes psychometry to manifest in Kiffar. Without that knowledge, attempting transfer would be a waste of time and credits. If you would follow me, please."
He led them into a meeting room with a long table and several chairs. He waved them in, then closed the door behind them and motioned for them to sit at the table. He strode to a large filing cabinet along one wall and rifled through it, undoubtedly looking for research papers to support what he had been telling them.
As they waited, Jay glanced over at Shae and raised an eyebrow, a motion that translated to are you buying any of this?
The other woman shrugged in response. Jay couldn't blame her. She didn't know what to make of this place. The goals of this Whiteclaw Project seemed outlandish – who would really want to pour billions of credits into making stormtroopers into biologically-engineered supersoldiers? They could hire Kamino to create a super-bred clone army for half the cost, albeit twice the time.
She was about to raise this question when Kasiporo suddenly spun around and snarled, "Now time for my questions. Who the kriff are you? Answer honestly this time, before I call security."
He was holding a pistol, aimed squarely at Jay's forehead.
Vhetin waited until the guards had passed on their nightly patrol run. They shined their rifle lights through the ray-shielded bars of his cell, making sure he was where he was supposed to be. He had turned his back to them, feigning sleep. After a few moments, the trooper with the light grunted and moved on.
The moment the light had passed to the next cell, Vhetin's eyes snapped open. He waited for the sounds of the trooper's bootsteps to fade away down the hall, then quietly sat up and slipped away from his cot. He narrowed his eyes, debating with himself, then turned back to his bed and pulled out the shard of mirror he'd stowed there. If he was sneaking out, he'd need a weapon.
"You still going to do this?" came Mantis' voice from the other side of the wall.
"I am."
"Then best of luck to you... how do you say it? Nayr vode?"
Vhetin cracked the slightest of smiles. "Ner vod."
"Yeah. That."
He stepped up to the shimmering barrier that separated him from the outside world. "I won't forget you Mantis. As soon as I get to the security checkpoint, I'll release the doors and let you go."
"Looking forward to it... nar vod."
"Better," Vhetin said, "but still not great."
"I guess I'll have plenty of time to practice once I'm free of this hellhole."
"See you on the other side," Vhetin said, then tapped the surface of the ray shields.
The Facility used state-of-the-art holographic security systems. The contractors who had built the place believed terminals were too easily sliced or re-wired. As a result, virtually any surface connected to a power supply could bring up a hologram window. The consequences were severe if any prisoners were caught messing with the terminals that could pop up inside their cells, but that hadn't stopped Vhetin from experimenting with them in the past when the guards weren't looking. His experiments had never gotten him anywhere – the system kept asking him for his access code – but he had a suspicion that he would be met with a different outcome this time.
As usual, the blue holographic interface sprang to life in front of him and a window popped up, asking him for his access code. Vhetin input the code that Torch had given him, sweating already. He didn't think Torch would have betrayed and lied to him, but this special sequence of numbers and letters that would miraculously give him his freedom seemed too good to be true.
The interface window closed, showing a loading screen for a few moments. Then Vhetin's heart skipped a beat when another window popped up that read RETINAL SCAN REQUIRED. STAND BY.
Vhetin stood as still as a post as a tiny light tracked over his left eye, scanning his features and probably comparing them with the Facility's database. After a few moments, the screen disappeared again, replaced now by the words ACCESS GRANTED.
"Oya," he murmured, then set to work. He quickly found the Facility's door controls and set the system to disable the shields and disengage the locks of his cell door. While he was at it, he noticed that he had mysteriously been given priority-level access to every system in the base – courtesy of Doctor Torch, no doubt. So, while waiting for the shields to close down, he simultaneously locked the doors to every branching access point between him and the main security checkpoint. Since the understaffed night shift was in full swing, it would take hours for anyone to find out, and it successfully cut off Vhetin's area of the Facility from the barracks, where most of the stormtroopers were quartered.
The locks finally disengaged with a quiet buzz and Vhetin shut down the screen. He looked back around his cell, his home for the past months, and in particular to the tiny hole in the wall that had been his one source of communication. He debated whether or not to say something more to Mantis, then simply turned and stepped outside.
As soon as he was outside, the first thing he did was glance up and down the hall. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he immediately reached behind himself and ripped the medical pack from his shoulders. He roughly ripped away the hoses connecting the pack to the plugs set into his skin, grimacing as they yanked against the large needles set into his skin, sending ripples of pain through his body. He couldn't remove the plugs themselves – that would be dangerous and cause the wounds to start bleeding again. So he just disengaged the tubes from their plugs and set the pack aside. It was a glorious feeling despite the pain, finally being free of the cumbersome backpack and its incessant chugging as it pumped the Whiteclaw preservative through his bloodstream and into his lungs. He stretched fully, the first time in three months, then set his mind to his work and set off quietly down the hall.
He was still clothed in his bloodstained prison pants – no shoes and no shirt – and the air was chilly against his bare skin. The durasteel floor froze his feet, but he was too close to freedom now to even notice. His heart was pounding in his ears and his eyes darted over his surroundings, scanning for any signs of patrols. His tampering had obviously not triggered any alarms, but if anyone discovered the locked doors or his empty cell that would change quickly.
He had been worried about other prisoners seeing him and alerting any passersby, but most of the inmates were sleeping. The others that tried to shout at him as he passed were foiled by the sound-dampening effects of ray shields. Apparently the guards had long ago grown tired of the noise the inmates made and had requested the cells be soundproofed.
He turned a corner, almost convinced that there weren't any security guards in the area, and almost ran headlong into the cell block patrol. They had their backs to him, thankfully, and were slowly walking down the hall, rifles at the ready.
He narrowed his eyes. A rifle would come in handy. Much better than some jagged piece of glass.
Taking down two heavily armed and armored stormtroopers wouldn't be easy. He was familiar with all the weak points of full body armor, mainly the neck and underarms, but he wasn't sure he could take one trooper down without the other raising the alarm.
Then a thought came to him. At first, he wrote it off as stupid, since it almost never worked and when it did, it was only in holovids. But the more he thought about it, he realized it was really the only chance he had.
He stepped back around the corner and searched the area. He found a small tangle of pipes and quickly snuck over. He searched through the coolant junction, finding a pipe that suited his needs, and wedged his shard of transparisteel into a seam. It was difficult, but he eventually managed to puncture the seal of the pipe. It erupted with a loud hiss of escaping coolant steam, dancing and flailing in its housing, spewing grayish-colored fog throughout the hall.
"What was that?" he heard one of the troopers mutter from around the corner.
"Probably just another pipe leak," the other said, sounding bored. "I'll go check it out. Maintain the patrol. I'll call maintenance."
Vhetin shrank back, bending his knees, hiding himself at least partially in the coolant fog. He gripped his shard of transparisteel and waited, barely breathing. The trooper ambled around the corner with a sigh. He looked at the damaged pipe, shook his head, then turned away and moved to trigger his comm unit.
Vhetin didn't give him the chance. He darted forward, wrapped a hand around the trooper's vocoder, and plunged his transparisteel shiv into the unprotected bodysuit at the trooper's neck. There was a small spout of blood and the trooper let out a gargle. Then the armored man went limp. Vhetin cautiously set him down, careful not to allow his armor to clatter against the durasteel floor.
Vhetin stifled a cough as he straightened, adrenaline making him breathe heavily and putting stress on his fluid-filled lungs. With no time to waste, he picked up the man's rifle, checked the charge, and set off back down the hall at a cautious pace.
He was almost at the corner when another thought came to him. He looked down at his rifle, back at the dead trooper, and thought, why stop there?
Five minutes later and Vhetin, now clad in full stormtrooper gear, had reached the main security office. The office housed all the security controls for the entire Facility, and would allow him to not only continue his escape, but also release Mantis.
The only problem was that the office was guarded by two stormtroopers with heavy rifles, standing next to two mobile droid turrets. The guards he could probably take, but the Spiders were fast, agile, and packed a hell of a punch.
He thought back to a conversation he'd had with Jay once when speaking about infiltration missions. The key was to disguise yourself as inconspicuously as possible. He remembered an example he'd given her, about how she had never paid attention to the flight crew while she had been a navy pilot, even though any one of the crew members could have been sabotaging her equipment. As long as an infiltrator was of low rank and acted like they were supposed to be wherever they were going, most didn't bat an eyelash.
So, with that in mind, he walked right up to the security checkpoint, saluted, and said, "PT-242, Private Tenson reporting for duty, sirs!"
The troopers glanced between themselves, as if to say, what's this guy's problem?
One of them, a sergeant, looked back to Vhetin and said, "You new here, kid?"
"Yes sir," Vhetin lied. "Just transferred in from the ISD Suprema this afternoon."
"A navy rat?" the other trooper chuckled. "They must be pullin' everyone in for this guard post."
"I have orders to report to the guard office to activate my security clearance."
The sergeant shrugged and stepped out of Vhetin's path. "Whatever. Drop by the mess later. We'll bring you up to speed on what you're supposed to do here. Buy you a drink."
Vhetin, helmet vocoder now switched off, snorted and thought, Fat chance. Outwardly, he just saluted and strode forward, into the security office. He had just passed the troopers when one trooper suddenly said, "Hey!"
He froze, finger tightening on the trigger of his rifle. He slowly turned back to the sergeant and said, "Yes sir?"
The trooper stepped forward and pointed at Vhetin's neck, to the tear in the suit the transparisteel shard had made when he had stabbed the patrol trooper.
"What's that?" the sergeant asked.
Vhetin feigned ignorance. "What's what?"
"Your suit has a breach."
"Does it?"
The sergeant nodded, releasing an exasperated sigh. "These damn bodysuits are always tearing. Stop by the armory later and get that fixed. You're working in hazop conditions now, trooper. You'll want your suit to be able to seal."
"Yes sir," Vhetin said, let out a long breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He saluted one last time, then stepped down the hall that led to the security office. The office was buried deep inside the Facility's center in case of siege. Thankfully, it was far enough away from the guards out front that when Vhetin entered, he was able to shoot both security officers inside without worrying about the troopers hearing it. The flash of blaster bolts as he fired at the Imperials lit up the dark security office. Within moments, the two security officers were slumped over their workstations, dead before either could draw their weapons.
He felt a slight twinge of guilt about killing the officers. They hadn't done anything to him and were just doing their jobs. On any normal day he would have just stunned them and hid their unconscious bodies somewhere. But the stakes were too high now, and he wasn't about to let someone raise the alarm because he had failed to take necessary precautions.
Once he had stowed the bodies somewhere inconspicuous, he slid into a chair and pulled up another holographic terminal. He entered his access code again, allowed the computer to scan his eyes, and logged himself into the security system.
Studying the holographic map of the Facility, he was first struck by the overwhelming size of the structure. If the map was accurate, the Facility was made up of three levels of scientific research laboratories. The first level was primarily for housing the guards, scientists, and prisoners, and was built above ground. The second level was reserved for Testing and exercise yards, and the third, deepest level was made up of the manufacturing plant for the black DNA preservative that carried the virus. Both of these levels were deep underground.
Looking through the schematics, he saw that the main entrance was a no-go. There were at least twenty guards standing just outside the main gates of the prison and ten guarding the inside. Pretending to be a new transfer wouldn't work on them. He had to find another way.
He scanned the map, searching for alternate routes. After what seemed like an eternity, he found it: the heat exchange ducts that ejected the stale air from the lower levels underground. He would have to access the maintenance control station on the third level, shut down the heat exchange, and crawl a hundred meters through a cramped air duct that eventually led out to the surface.
It's not a great plan, he thought, his gaze darting through reports of the heat exchange system, but it's possible. The only problem is going to be the guards standing between me and that maintenance office. After that, it should be smooth sailing.
He nodded, satisfied with his plan. Then he logged into the Facility's cell block control and opened up the window that would allow him to let every prisoner loose. He'd made Mantis a promise and he kept his promises.
Here goes nothing, he thought, then pressed the holographic tile that said RELEASE.
Instantly an alarm blared through the security station and the entire room lit up with flashing red emergency lights. Vhetin wasn't surprised, but that didn't stop him from killing the alarm and cutting intercom communications throughout the Facility. Guards and scientists would still be able to communicate via personal comlinks, but it would severely restrict communications. If he could make it to the maintenance station on the third level, he could reprogram the Facility's long-range communicator to spam local transmissions, cutting the personal comms off as well.
To throw the guards off even further, he cut the Facility's lighting systems. The security office was instantly plunged into darkness, lit only by the glowing holographic readout. Soon after, the rest of the facility went dark as well. Vhetin finished by locking out the system using a slicing technique Jaing Skirata had taught him; the security office wouldn't respond to anyone from now on, further reducing the guard's ability to regain control of the Facility.
Satisfied he'd done all he could, he pushed away from the holographic terminal, watched as it shut down for the last time, then shouldered his rifle and set off back down the hallway. The guards and Spider turrets were gone and there were sounds of shouting and blasterfire from the direction of the cell blocks. He paused when he reached the hall, looking in that direction, and thought, Good luck, Mantis.
Then he strode down a side-hall, toward the turbolifts that would take him to the second level.
Jay slowly raised her hands, eyes never leaving the pistol Doctor Kasiporo had clasped in his hand.
"I'm not going to ask again," the doctor growled, lekku twitching in irritation. "Who are you and why are you here?"
"We're agents of Imperial Intelligence here to conduct-"
"That's a lie and we both know it. You said the Director hadn't briefed you on what we were doing here. Yet you somehow knew the Primary possessed psychometric abilities."
"E-everyone knows Kiffar have psychometry!" Jay said, heart pounding. They'd come too far to be stopped now because of such a stupid mistake. "Their species is known for it!"
"Only one in a thousand Kiffar possess this ability," Kasiporo said. "How did you know the Primary did? You had no advance information, unless..."
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Unless you aren't Imperial Intelligence at all. Unless there was no inspection. You... you're rebels, aren't you? Terrorists, trying to steal our technology!"
Jay was sure she and Shae would have died in the next few seconds. But something happened in that moment that saved their lives, something that no one in the room expected.
The lights went out.
Within a split-second, all three of them were plunged into pitch darkness. Kasiporo cursed and the room lit up with the discharge of a blinding red blaster bolt that popped harmlessly against the wall. Jay caught a flicker of motion from the corner of her eye and Kasiporo cried out in pain and alarm. There was a sick-sounding crack and he fell silent.
Jay sat in darkness for a few moments, half out of her seat, unsure whether she was dead or not. Then a light sprang to life and she saw Shae standing in the space Kasiporo had occupied moments before, holding a glowtorch in one hand and Kasiporo's pistol in the other.
"You all right?" she asked.
Jay let out a long breath. "I'm fine. Where's Kasiporo?"
Shae looked down at her feet. "At the moment he seems to be drooling into the carpet. Charming."
"You didn't kill him, did you?" Jay remembered the wet crack in the dark. They weren't here to knock off Imperial scientists, and murder charges would only complicate things in the future.
But Shae shook her head and said, "Not enough time to kill him. I just knocked his head against the table."
She looked up at the lights, which began to flicker and sputter, making the entire room look like the interior of a Coruscant nightclub. "What the kriff just happened?"
Jay shook her head. "Nothing good. Hold on and I'll contact the others."
"The mission still stands?"
"Of course," Jay said, booting up her pad. "I'm not abandoning Cin just because the lights went out."
"Your call, boss."
Jay quickly sent out a message to her team. EVERYONE REPORT IN ASAP.
Laniff was the first to call back. "All the lights just went out. What the hell did you do this time?"
"I didn't do anything," Jay replied. "There's more going on here than we know. Where are you?"
"Doctor's quarters," he replied. "Still downloading info from the servers. Fortunately just the lights seem to have lost power."
"Okay. Keep at it, then meet at the rendezvous point on Level Two. The main route's a no-go. Shae and I are compromised and the stormtrooper guard are going to be massing there anyway on their way out."
"Copy that. Stairway to Level Two is just a few doors down the hall."
One-by-one, the rest of the team reported in. Jay was glad to hear they were all still alive.
Rame was fine, still in the maintenance bays trying to take down the Darktroopers. Unfortunately, he reported that there was some kind of mass riot in the cell blocks and the droids he hadn't managed to deactivate – five in all – had suddenly powered up and stomped out of the room.
Trassk was still hidden away in the server room, using his scav droids to scout the base. He and Ti'ica – who was currently hunkered down in a maintenance closet – both reported indignantly that they had been suddenly locked out of the security systems and couldn't log back in even with their best slicing tricks. Jay found that slightly unnerving, but they weren't dead yet and it sounded like the riot in the cell blocks was taking up most of the Imperial's attention. Even if they did suspect they had intruders, they at least had bigger problems to focus on, and that gave Jay time to find Cin and get her team out.
Jay eventually opened a comm channel to another member of the team, who was waiting to pick them up once they managed to exfiltrate the medical facility with their target.
"D, come in," she said.
The response was a monotonous synthetic voice over her comm unit. "I AM HERE."
"You're officially on standby, big guy. Things are getting out of hand down here. If I give the word, I want you to blow down the front door and show these Imps what real firepower looks like."
"I LOOK FORWARD TO THE CONFRONTATION. STANDING BY."
Jay nodded, satisfied that he would show the Imperials a thing or two. Finally, she switched channels and said, "Handmaiden. Les, come in. Do you copy?"
The Handmaiden ducked a vicious punch from a shirtless male human in orange prison pants. The man cursed and stumbled clumsily past. Handmaiden turned on him, disgusted by his lack of proper combat training. She easily incapacitated him with a double-punch to the solar plexus followed by a painful uppercut to the chin and a boot swipe to his ankles. The man sprawled and didn't rise.
She pivoted on one foot and drove her gloved fist into another onrushing man's face. The punch, coupled with his forward momentum, knocked him off his feet as if he'd been floored by a Wookiee.
She was caught in the shoulder by yet another prisoner's poorly-aimed punch and she staggered back, momentarily off balance. She quickly whipped her quarterstaff from her belt and triggered the weapon. Twin beams sprang from either end of the hilt and she slammed the staff across the offending man's face. He was knocked off his feet.
"Handmaiden," came Jay's voice over her earpiece. "Les, come in. Do you copy?"
She grimaced as three more rioting inmates rushed her. She had no time to respond. She fell to her knees and slashed horizontally with her weapon, knocking all three men off their feet. She quickly rose and sprinted forward, leaping nimbly over them with a graceful front-flip and landing on her feet running.
Other inmates rushed from their cells, eager to be free. They rushed after her in a horde, filling the hallway behind her. She turned a corner and spun to dodge a bewildered stormtrooper, glancing over her shoulder in time to see him overwhelmed by the crowd. The inmates' desire for violence caused them to gang up on the hapless soldier, slowing their approach. She, in turn, doubled her pace and escaped around a corner, out of their sight.
She kept running for the next few minutes, until she saw sure she was safely out of the mob's clutches. She finally slowed to a halt and pulled her white hood back, wiping sweat from her pale forehead. She let her back rest against the wall, breathing heavily, and finally triggered her comm. "This is Handmaiden."
"Finally," Jay replied, sounding relieved. "Where are you?"
"I am in the cell blocks," she panted, resting her hands on her knees. "I found your partner's cell."
There was barely a pause. "Was he there?"
"No. I do not know where he went. His cell's shields were deactivated and the door was ajar. Moments later, every other cell in the area suffered similar power failures. Every prisoner in the Facility has been set loose."
"Okay," Jay said. "Keep moving toward the rendezvous point. Once we're all together, we'll focus on finding Cin."
The Handmaiden pushed away from the wall and held two fingers to her hands-free comm unit. "I do not mean to sound disparaging, but it will be almost impossible to find him with every inmate present running free. We do not have much time before the Imperials seal the building. We will be trapped here with them."
There was a long pause. Then Jay sighed and murmured, "I know."
The Handmaiden could hear the woman's determination in her tone. She glanced at a nearby sign detailing her position within the Facility and said, "Your devotion to him is commendable, Jayshiea. I will regroup with you at the designated coordinates. Handmaiden out."
She set off in the direction of the turbolift that would carry her to the second level and her rendezvous point. She had made it only a few meters before she heard a multitude of footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the mob of rioting inmates surge around the corner, sprinting directly for her.
She cursed, pulled a small cylinder from her belt, and threw it in the direction of the onrushing rabble. There was a brilliant flash of light and a powerful explosion of gray smoke. The mass of inmates slowly came to a halt, coughing and waving the haze from their faces.
When the air cleared enough to see, the Handmaiden was nowhere to be found.
Author's Note: Shae Verd and Laniff Dreysel appear courtesy of MandoGirl22 and Kadirika7211, respectively.