The Mon Calamari Light Frigate Low Tide - The Meglumine System in the Inner Rim

Captain Nuba stared out the forward viewport, bored enough to contemplate drawing on the viewport. It wasn't that she hated patrol duty, far from it. It was more that this section of space was so empty that even the odd planet to look at would have been a welcome break from the nothingness of space. "Are scanners picking up anything at all?" she asked out loud to no one specifically.

The officer at the station called out, "Nothing at all, Captain."

With a gurgling sigh, the Mon Calamari captain stood and began to pace. All she wanted was something to happen - anything to happen. She didn't want a crisis or anything crazy but something interesting would make her want to resist vandalizing the inside of her own ship. "Captain, we are receiving a message from someone near the planet Meglumine."

She was there in an instant. "Who are they and how far are we from the planet?"

"A short jump - no more than ten minutes, Captain. The contact is from a couple of humans from Freemaker Salvage and Repair. Apparently they found something big and they want us to come take a look."

Nuba chuckled at that. By New Republic law, certain kinds of salvage, such as weapons, warships, various kinds of space stations and other kinds of equipment, had to be checked out by the military and by New Republic Intelligence. "Patch them through."

She turned to the terminal and the holoprojector showed a half-sized scale of two humans who were clearly siblings, judging by their looks. "This is Captain Nuba; how may we be off assistance?"

"Captain, this is Captain Kordi Freemaker of Freemaker Salvage and Repair; we're in orbit over the planet Meglumine and we found an ore mine of good salvage but it needs to be checked out. Some of it will probably sold directly to you but hopefully not all of it."

The young woman was clearly containing her excitement and eagerness. Nuba nodded and said, "We will report to our command and be with you forthwith."

Twenty minutes later, after she had reported to her higher-ups, Nuba stared out at the old freighter before her. It was not a pretty thing, an old CT-900 leight freighter. "Hail them;" she said. "Captain Freemaker, is that you aboard that relic?"

"This baby still has it where it counts, Captain;" came a reply, the male human. "I've made my own modifications over the years."

"Can it, Zander;" chuckled the woman, "don't you have some repairs to make or something?"

Kordi Freemaker turned back to the holo-receiver. "What we have here on the other side of the planet from us is a pair of Cardan VI-class stations, an Imperial 1-class Star Destroyer and numerous other ships, from a prison barge to a luxury yacht and from single person fighters various kinds of frigates."

Nuba's large eyes blinked. The New Republic was always looking for new ships and an Imp-star one would be a great asset, not to mention the others. "We will send a report up and then we'll go in for a look. Have you been aboard the station or any of the ships?"

Kordi Freemaker pulled a face and said, "No, not yet; we- just want to be sure it's secure. It's not common for the Empire to just leave this amount of ships and equipment, so we thought to wait and see."

"Understandable;" said Nuba, "I'm going to send a report to my superiors again and then send a detachment of marines aboard the stations and the destroyer. When this is over, you should make out quite well financially and the New Republic should get some war ships to work with. Did you get a name off of the destroyer or any of the other ships?"

Two Weeks Later on Coruscant - At the Imperial Palace Jedi Headquarters

Wade Vox gazed down at the components on his work bench. It wasn't that he was displeased with his first lightsaber. It's that he had come to the conclusion that he could probably make some improvements on it. For instance, he wanted to make the balance of the hilt better, adding a little weight to the emitter end. He also wanted to add some parts to make it resistant to water in case, force forbid, he had to use it under water. Humming to himself, the young man worked on the weapon until he had completely reassembled it. With a broad grin, he thumbed the activator and the familiar bronze blade flashed to life. "Hey, Wade; we have a briefing with Admiral Ackbar and General Cracken."

Wade jumped with a gasp and whirled around. His fellow Jedi student Nisotsa covered her mouth and cleared her throat to hide a laugh, but Wade just sighed and smiled ruefully. "You'd might as well laugh, Nis. I deserve it for tunneling in so hard at what I was doing."

She did then, chuckling just a little and shaking her head. "What were you doing, anyway - moving meditation?"

"No; just modifying my lightsaber. I wanted to- you know what? You don't care. Come on; take me to the briefing room." He briskly moved to the door, following the attractive woman out the door and towards one of the palaces many briefing rooms. As they went, he asked, "Any idea what it is this time?"

"Not a clue, kiddo; could be anything really, but given that both the commander of New Republic Forces and the head of NRI are involved, I'll bet it's a doozy."

It was only a few minutes before they entered the room. Aside from themselves, Admiral Gial Ackbar and General Airen Cracken, there were the other Jedi students, the Jedi Knights, with the exception of Luke and Mara Jade Skywalker who were on their honeymoon, and the three Jedi Masters. The non-Jedi military members looked quite uneasy and, when everyone had come in and taken their seats, the Mon Calamari veteran cleared his throat with a gurgle. "Ahem, thank you for your promptness, Ladies and Gentlemen. The reason we called you hear is because of some extremely troubling information we have received from a patrol cruiser in the Inner Rim. The MC Light Cruiser Low Tide has been missing for two weeks now and the last transmissions we have received from them are highly disturbing."

The lights in the room dimmed and a holo projector activated and displayed a pair of Cardan VI-class Imperial space stations whose jagged L-shaped configuration formed a square around an Imperial 1-Class Star Destroyer. They were connected by docking corridors and bristled with armament - from turbo laser batteries to concussion missile launchers. "The installation you see here was discovered by salvagers over the planet Meglumine in the system of the same name. They wanted to take it for salvage and pay for the New Republic and contacted the Low Tide as it was the nearest New Republic military vessel in the vicinity. When the light cruiser arrived, they sent three squads - one aboard each station and one aboard the Star Destroyer. Before we lost communication with the light cruiser, they transmitted the live feeds from the leaders of each group."

The image changed from three dimensional to the view of what was likely a camera affixed to the helmet of a New Republic marine Sergeant. Wade had seem them used before. The first one was labeled Team 1 and the feed started after they had already landed aboard their station:

"-aboard Station Alpha and are disembarking now, Low Tide;" came a voice as they headed down the ramp of a landing vehicle. Audible from the other line came the reply to his report. "Very good, One Leader; make your way through to the bridge and report anything unusual that you see."

"As ordered; Team 1 Leader out;"

It was quiet in the station and it seemed as though many of the lights had gone out. There weren't even any maintenance droids moving around. They made it to the first turbolift cluster and traveled as high up as it could take them. Unfortunately, it couldn't take them all the way up to the bridge. "This is creepy as hell, Sarge;" muttered a deep voice from behind and slightly to the right of the camera view. "Since when do Imperials just leave their stations behind, filled to the bulwark with TIE's, shuttles and the like, not to mention an Imp Star one nestled snugly between two of them?"

"Beats me, Decker; just keep your eyes pealed and point out anything you see that's worrisome."

The only sounds from the feed were the breathing of the New Republic marines and the light clank of their boots on the deck of the station as they moved from the hanger towards a nearby turbolift cluster. Suddenly, one of them sneezed violently several times, one after another and caused all the others to jump. "Kriffing hell, Brand!" muttered the Sergeant before the man had even finished. "Might need to change my pants after that. You alright?"

"I should be good, Sarge but my sinuses suddenly feel like they had valves opening inside them. Must be the dry, dusty air."

"There shouldn't be dust in the air;" muttered another marine. "Most stations have scrubbers to keep them clean." Suddenly, he began to clear his throat and cough a little. "Ugh. But there is something in the air here."

Suddenly, one of the other squad members snapped, "What the-".

"What?" every other voice said together, shining glow rods in the same direction he did.

"There was someone down that corridor;" he said shakily. "I saw someone, I swear!"

They were silent for several long moments before the sergeant cleared his throat, sounding a little horse. "Alright, stay in formation and keep three-sixty degree awareness. We'll head that way. Set weapons to stun for now."

They moved down in a direction perpendicular to the one they had been previously traveling. They rounded the corner and, in the distance, several of the lights flickered eerily. There was no one visible in the corridor. "Must have just been my imagination;" muttered the marine who had caused the alarm. "Could have sworn-" BANG! He was cut off by the sound of something slamming onto the floor behind the squad. The cam view turned, only to see the wrecked chassis of a droid of some kind lying in the center of the hall - one that had not been seen on camera when they had come that way.

"Sarge;" muttered one of the marines and the feed turned. In the flickering light was a single figure. The lights winked out and, a moment later, back on. There were three of them. Another flicker, and there were more, all gazing eerily at the marines. "Back up slow;" said the Sergeant to his squad and, after a clear hesitation, "set weapons to kill. Whoever they are, there is something very-"

A scream from behind cut him off. Whipping around, the view showed two figures in incomplete sets of Imperial Storm Trooper armor had latched onto one of the marines and were dragging him away. One of the figures in armor appeared to have his teeth sunk into the marine's neck. "Blast!" said the Sergeant and, thinking it the order to engage, the other squad members opened up, burn holes into the figures. The sound of feet from the other direction drew fire that direction too. "Fall back!" ordered the sergeant, and began backpedaling down a different direction. The view on the feed was shaky, showing flashes of blaster fire as curses came from the marines. Above all of it, a high pitched, ear-shattering scream tore through the air. "Turbolifts - over there! MOVE!"

The sergeant laid down a withering spray of blaster fire, his A280 blaster rifle visible from the lower right hand corner of the screen. All the lights were flickering now and the sparks of blaster fire hitting walls, ceiling and floor revealed one, two, three, four and five of the marines run by him. A sixth was still meters away, clutched by figures in tattered Imperial officer and crewman uniforms and Storm Trooper armor. Through the flickering light, it was clear that dozens or more were pounding down the corridor towards them in stilting, uneven gates. The awkwardness didn't seem to slow the creatures down, however and it was only the sudden backwards jerk that saved the sergeant as the turbolift doors hissed shut. "Who'd we lose;" asked the Sergeant, breathing raggedly. "Decker, Brand and Healy;" reported one of them, a female Twi'lek. "What the hell were those things, Sergeant?"

"I don't have any idea, Corpsman;" came the reply, his voice rough with fatigue and a little emotion. "Where are we heading right now?"

"Medical wing, Sergeant;" she replied, "Gauss was scratched or something by one of them."

The feed quickly turned to a baby-faced marine who was pale in the light of the lift car. "Let me see, Rookie;" ordered the sergeant.

A long gash was evident on the boy's arm. The area was completely unmarked otherwise. "It doesn't look too bad, Sarge;" said the corpsman, her voice sounding relieved. "Looks like he just cut it on something - a loose wall panel or maybe a broken piece of armor. A lot of those things were wearing shell-head suits. Either way, I'm gonna patch him up right quick and we'll go from there."

"Do it;" said the Sergeant before clearing his throat - a gurgling, sloppy sound. "Next time we get a chance, Riggo, you're uploading to the ships systems and slicing into whatever the hell you can."

"Roger, Sarge;" came the clearest voice among them, as if whatever was in the air wasn't bothering him at all. As soon as the lift doors opened, all six of them were ready, moving in a tight formation; but there was nothing there. It was as quiet as it had been before. The silence, made even more eerie by what they had just witnessed, was almost a physical substance they had to walk through. Suddenly, whispering as if fearing to break the silence, the corpsman said, "This isn't right. We shouldn't be to the medical wing for several more corridors. Look over there - those rooms look almost like quarantine and observation rooms."

The feed continued to advance, looking left and right, the A280 blaster rifle still clearly visible in the lower right hand corner of the screen, covering their advance. Suddenly, it flicked to the right. "There - looks like an admin station or office or something. Let's go. We'll hole up in there for a minute. I need to sit down."

They all filed in and the screen looked back and a hand punched the door panel, shutting them in. The screen swept around. The corpsman was tending to the baby faced marine, Gauss. A tall, thin man was at a console, two datapads hooked up to it. The other two marines were non-descript figures in body armor, checking doors that seemed to lead to other rooms. "What do you have over there, gents?" the sergeant asked, his breath sounding suddenly heavy.

"Refresher over here - which someone apparently didn't flush after using. Eck."

"Just a closet with some lab coats, Sarge; nothing interesting."

Suddenly, in the distance, they heard a long, undulating scream. It was just like the one they had heard before during the attack. "Sarge!" said Riggo, "I just sliced into their systems and found a ton of data. It's all encrypted but I'm pretty sure I can decrypt it given enough time!"

A chorus of screams sounded, much closer than the last. "We don't have that kind of time, Riggo! Download everything you can and decrypt it later;" ordered the Sergeant. Suddenly, he cursed and reached for his comlink. "Low Tide, this is Team 1 Leader; do not, I repeat, DO NOT send anyone else aboard this station or any of the others. Something is going on here and we don't want anyone else-"

Another scream sounded, far too close for comfort. "Alright, we need to go - NOW, marines."

Suddenly, the corpsman grabbed a strange case that had been sitting on the table. "What the hell is that, Corpsman?"

"I don't know, Sarge, but it has to be important! It has vials and syringes and a compact datapad in it. If these imps were working on something biological in nature, or maybe a disease or a virus or whatever, they would have some kind of countermeasure."

The cam feed was uneven and the breath rasped wetly in the sergeant's lungs. "Whatever, just get moving, kid; those things aren't far."

They all piled back into the turbo lift and took it all the way down. "We won't be anywhere near the hanger when they open;" muttered one of the other marines.

"No;" said the sergeant, "but at least we'll be on the right level. Why the hell did you grab that scrap, Corpsman?"

The view turned to the twi'lek woman, who was still holding the case. "Before joining the Rebellion, I worked at a research hospital on Commenor where we studied infectious diseases, viruses and so on and that whole set up on that level looked like a quarantine ward of some kind - cells made of one-way transparesteel, air scrubbers that only allowed the air into the cells but none out and this;" she lifted the case, "a case of some kind of countermeasure. I'm guessing that whatever is in the air escaped and that's where most of the crew of this station went - to hell."

"But what about those things?" asked one of the others.

"Don't ask me;" said the corpsman. "I came on the same boat you did, remember? Anyhow, I think I should start administering this stuff."

"Hold on;" said the Sergeant, a hand appearing on the cam view. "Should you really just start injecting that into-" but he was cut off by a violently fit of coughing.

"Yes, I do, Sarge;" replied the corpsman firmly. "None of us were sick until we got on this station and then, suddenly and inexplicably, all but myself and Riggo are hacking up lungs, sneezing out brains and generally just making gross noises. You sound like you're six steps from death."

"Start with them, then;" said the Sergeant. "Make sure there's enough to go around. I'll go last."

The lift doors opened as the corpsman had injected a third dose into one of them. "You're next, Sarge. Give me your-" and scream from just down the corridor interrupted her. In the camera view, the sergeant pushed the corpsman in the opposite direction. "No time for that now, kid! You and the others NEED to get to the hanger with that stuff and Riggo's information. Go. NOW! I'll try to keep them focused on me."

As if to make a point, the blaster rifle switched to his left hand while the right hand disappeared from view. It reappeared with a grenade of some kind. Hitting the arming switch, he lobbed it towards a knot of hissing, shambling figures that were approaching. "Over here, you drooling freaks!" he yelled as loud as his congested sinuses and throat would allow.

Just as the grenade went off, the screen had moved backwards and sideways around a corner. Quickly, it whipped around to see if there were more. There were. Another group of the things was staggering towards him. He opened up with the blaster, the flash from the muzzle obscuring most of the view. Then, the view swung around and he took off running again, the imaging from the feed shaky and unfocused until he had run for nearly three minutes straight. Behind him, and often from either side, the screams and uneven thuds of pursuing feet could be made out. Finally, he came to where a door wouldn't open. The mechanism had been blasted in an attempt to seal the side HE was on. With a wet, gargling sigh, the feed swung around and suddenly sank. At the bottom of the feed, the Sergeant's legs and booted feet were visible. Above them, the figures appeared. The glow rod on the blaster rifle swung back and forth, revealing only quick glimpses of what appeared to be human faces, though altered somehow. The sergeant squeezed the trigger and the rifle only clicked. "Blast!" he muttered and the view canted slightly to the left. Whatever he was trying to do, the sergeant didn't have the chance as the creatures rushed him. The last thing it caught were the squatting legs and hind quarters, partially encased in Storm Trooper armor and one of the sergeant's outstretched hand that twitched and shook as the creatures attacked him.