I hate death in Star Wars stories unless it's for a very, very good reason. I always view the series as nearly everyone making it out by the skin of their teeth.

Not all of them will die well. Two will be rather badly and worse, will fail. One will die off screen and you may never know why. One will die nobly, the other because of a personal choice.

I am more sorry than you are. As the author, I am letting the story have it's head, and when they die it will be when there time has come. Trust me on that.


Picky med detail--dislocations don't get reset, but fractures do get set. Dislocations get 'reduced'. Most laypeople say 'the doc popped it back in joint,' or 'doc put it back in its socket.' You might consider having Breia ask the Marine to put it back in its socket instead of resetting it. This might be a good place to have the Marine be a combat medic also, since most of us don't know how to reduce a dislocation correctly. If it's done wrong, it can actually cause more damage by catching some other tissues with it as it goes back in socket.


Noted, and corrected.


When the Chancellor sacked nearly the entire top-level brass, I got a little concerned about the Chancellor's motives--the only time I've seen a shake-up to that severe a degree is when a dictator comes to power.

What happened there was pretty much what happened in Russia after the KAL 007 fiasco. The three senior men in Stranya PVO, the Eartern Air Defense Network were fired by Gorby. Removing four officers and the equivilant of the Secretary of the Navy is only a modest shake up in a disaster of this proportion.


Ugh. You're ending the story way too soon. :D

Hey, you have four more chapters to go before section one is complete. As Yogi said 'it ain't over til it's over'. :D

Denoument

Honor Blade dropped toward Nar Shaddaa. Lang looked at his screen as a Hutt appeared. “Administrator Hoom. I am Padawan Lang of the Jedi Monastery. I come as representative of the combined investigation team on the station attacks.”

“I was informed of your mission, Jedi.” The Hutt replied. “The factory is open for your inspection, as are the records.”

“Are there any other factories that make the same chemical?”

“Yes. They have also been informed and told to await you attention. There is one thing that puzzles us, however.”

“That is?”

“The link to the Sulishti. They do not use our chemical.”

“What?”

“Their reactors are all indigenous, as is their coolant. None of our chemical products are used by them. There is no reason to ship what has been shipped to them. Besides, no one needs seventy million cubic meters of our gas.”

“Seventy million?” Lang pondered. “When was that shipped?”

“One ship, the Feradi left two weeks ago bound for Fondor. The other, Bondrant less than a week ago bound for Sulisht.”

“What class were these ships?”

“Balladeer bulk transports. The gas was highly compressed.”

“Goddess!” He said. “Send a torpedo to Coruscant.” He ordered Shani. “Administrator, the factory that manufacture it-”

“Has already been seized.”

“I will meet your investigators there.”

*****

A class of children between five and nine in age surrounded a man in his fifties, working on a guided meditation. The man nodded, acknowledging Sanji’s passage even as his slow steady voice directed them on their personal quests. The training stopped only for sleep, and since a lot of students stayed on their home planet’s circadian cycles, it meant that it could go on around the clock at times.

Past classrooms where history of all the known races was taught. No human would live long enough to know it all, but by using the ways different people viewed the same situations, enough could be passed on in a decade or so to be of use. Others where languages were being taught for the day when these young student would be sent out to smooth the way for others.

Past a courtyard where a dozen students watched a master dueling with seven others, each armed with a practice blade. The master moved with an unhurried almost languid grace, dodging blows, blocking only those that came close enough to be a danger. He disarmed one, chopping another, the ballistic cloth hardening to spread the impact so that the 15 year old girl was just winded, not seriously injured. In the next courtyard, children went through a dizzying array of traps, running as fast as their force augmented muscles let them.

Another run, this armed with turrets firing real bullets halted him for a moment. The boy running the course was using obstacles, the force heightened reflexes and when necessary, his blade to deflect them. He stopped, clutching his arm, and the turrets died.

“No.” A master stepped down, walking up to him. “Do not let yourself become distracted.” He looked up balefully at the master that had caused his brief inattention. “Allow yourself to become one with it, and it will guide you. Is the arm all right?”

“Yes, master. The cloth spread it out as it is meant to.” The boy rolled his arm. “I will go again.”

“Yes.” The master looked at Sanji again, and returned to the control panel.

Sanji walked on. The courtyard where the council met was quiet. Breia looked up at his arrival.

“What have you heard, Master?” She asked.

“It is surprising how efficient a bureaucracy can be when they have both ONI and the Chancellor breathing down their necks.” He replied mildly. “The Balladeer class vessel Feradi is owned by the Brenoril company of Fondor. Odd, because it was never incorporated or formed. The only proof of a company is the one money transfer from an account closed the instant it cleared.

“But if anyone who knew Fondorian had been there, they might have wondered. You see, Brenoril is the Fondorian word for ‘ghost’. The two ships, Feradi and Bondrant have names that mean-”

“Vengeance and Nemesis.”

“Correct.” Sanji looked at the sky. “We were able to trace the purchase of a factory on Nar Shaddaa which manufactured the tainted gas. The factory was purchased using funds from a criminal organization named the Hand. The Government arrested the head men of the organization and they told all to escape the death penalty. They also slipped the tainted gas into the outgoing shipments of Bidraxidine from the regular manufacturers. It all arrived together here. I believe from that point-”

“The warehouse records were tampered with. The Czerka manager is up on mass murder charges even as we speak. The A4 unit I have was able to trace the transfers of gas. A man in custody named Harrigan is responsible for the actual orders for shipping it. He was on the station day before last, planting a program that changed the all hands klaxon back to the old tone. He was found under about a ton of debris from an explosion. Pure luck that he was still alive trapped alone, unable to kill himself or anyone else. He still had the data wand he had used to change the computer on the station, and in return for life without parole instead of a death sentence, he sang like a bird.”

“Then all we need is to trace the gas, find Landru and the affair is over.”

“Yes. But to do that I need permission to leave. I don’t have a ship until mine is repaired. I have already chartered a civilian courier-”

“Which will not be necessary.” Master Soo-chin replied entering the courtyard. “Both of you were asked to be here by the Chancellor.”

“What is it?” Breia moaned. “Another medal?”

“Padawan Solo, do you know how many Medals of Distinction have been given out?” Soo-chin asked. “More importantly how many have gone to people not of Coruscant? It is the highest award a civilian can earn on Coruscant.”

“That is all well and good but I have spent a day longer than I had to because of the blasted medal ceremony and now this.”

“Patience!” Soo-Chin chuckled. “If someone had told me five years ago that I would counsel someone else to be patient, I would have labeled them a fool!” She motioned. “Let us hurry, they should be arriving in a few moments.”

She led them through the back way of the Monastery so they didn’t disturb the students. Master Hobart joined them enroute. Except for the Kreekta, the tarmac was empty. Every ship that had gone on the assault had been either badly damaged or destroyed. Two of the Jedi dead had been in the Flitter class Glowfly when she rammed the bay doors. Soo-chin looked into the sky, then pointed. Eight ships in an echelon formation flew in, dropping to land before them. Behind them came a lumbering ship painted a brilliant white. Compared to the courier class ships that escorted it, this one was huge. A thirty man Naval command ship. The other eight were smaller, and sleeker. They were wide flat oblate wings with what looked like cannon in their leading edges.

The ramps dropped, and Navy personnel poured out. Breia looked as a familiar figure stepped down from the closest flying wing. “Yaka!”

He waved, walking over to stand beside her. “I was asked to pilot one of the new ships.”

“New-” The last man down the ramp of the command was the Chancellor. He strode over, bowing. “Masters. Dame Breia.” Breia groaned. She had forgotten that the medal she had been given was the equivalent of a Corellian Knighthood. She would forever be ‘Dame Briea Solo’ to the people of this planet.

The chancellor made a sweeping motion toward the ships. “All of your vessels were destroyed or so badly damaged that they need to be replaced. As the representative of my people, we ask you to accept this gift.

“The couriers Knight of Coruscant, Knight of Corellia, Knight of Ryloth, Knight of Ossus, Padawan Rees of Coruscant, Padawan Conor of Corellia, Padawan Marilo of Ossus.” He paused, The Command ship [/i]Master Hontu.[/i] “And,” Motioning toward the unnamed vessel, “And for your use until your ship is repaired, Dame Breia, Padawan Sani of Naboo. A gift from the People of Coruscant in recognition of your service to us.”

Soo-chin appeared to be speechless. “The order thanks the Coruscant for such a noble gift.”

“It pains us that we cannot do more.” Skywalker replied. “All we have done is replaced what you have lost, and created memorials for those who died for our people.”

“We will remember them always.” Soo-chin said humbly. “Your gift will make their names known throughout the galaxy. Again, our thanks.”

“We must be off. There is much to do.” The Chancellor bowed again, and led the Naval personnel with him.

“Master.” A Padawan ran up, bowing. “An urgent message for Master Gretu and Padawan Solo from Padawan Lang on Nar Shaddaa.”

They hurried into the communications room. A Padawan flipped a switch, and Lang appeared on the screen.

“This must immediately be transmitted to master Gretu and Padawan Solo. If they are not there, transmit it to whatever system they are in.

“The factory here has been closed. The personnel know nothing beyond the fact that members of an organization named the Hand had hired them two years ago. Positive identification of Zardan Landru as the man responsible for the gasses manufacture. Last known location, Ithor.

“The last load of gas was 70 million cubic meters. Loaded on ships belonging to the Brenoril corporation. The word is Fondorian for ‘ghost’. The two ships are named Feradi and Bondrant, Vengeance and Nemesis in the same language. One is bound for Sulisht. The other, for Fondor. I assume the one for Fondor the Feradi, will have already arrived.

Our computer estimates that 35 million is sufficient to poison an entire planet’s atmosphere.

“Enroute to Coruscant. Arrival 2115 hours tomorrow.” Every eye looked at the chronometer. He would be arriving in just a few hours.

“Message has also gone to Fondor. Master Sookor should be arriving there
any time. Hutt say that the Sulishti do not, I repeat do not use Bidraxidine. There must be a reason Landru used it as the carrier molecule, but we have not yet ascertained why.

“Message ends.”

“We have much to do, and must hurry.” Soo-chin snapped. “Master Sanji-” She was interrupted by a signal.

“Message torpedo from Ithor. From the Ithorian council aboard Cloud-Home.

The screen flashed on. An Ithorian looked out. Behind him was the first of the floating cities created two decades before by the Tokara Company.

“Administrator Lukati of Ithor reporting. We have received a message from Padawan Lang of your order asking for information on a human named Zardan Landru. He took possession of 5,000 breeding pairs of a hybrid song bird of his home planet of Fondor six weeks ago which had been genetically modified at his request. The request for modification had been filed four years, seven months ago. Specifications on modifications are with this message. Message ends.”

“He ordered songbirds? Soo-chin asked incredulous.

“Find the modifications subtext.” The Padawan flipped through the message archive. The male bird was a brilliantly plumed animal that weighed perhaps fifty grams if the scale was right. While everyone else looked on the communicator flipped through the pages of specification.

“Made them less shy than normal, adjusted their nesting habits and diet. They now feed on something called-” He leaned forward. “-A Sulishti plant called Kusberi. They used to nest in trees in the forests, but will now favor buildings and constructs.” His brow wrinkled. “Odd, the vocal index of the birds has also been altered. Their standard song had been altered.” He flipped a switch.

From the speakers echoed a song they all knew too well.

Breia’s com link bleeped. “What!”

“Padawan, I don’t know if it is important-”

“If it isn’t A4 I am going to rip out your brain and replace it with a toaster!” She roared.

“It has come to my attention that the Sulishti do not use Bidraxidine because it makes them ill-”

“We know that!”

“-It also would be assimilated by their native wildlife and plants.”

“What?” She whispered. Every eye was on her.

“One plant which is a staple in their diet called Kusberi would absorb it and reproduce the gas as part of it‘s flowering cycle.”

“Gods.” Someone whispered. Breia agreed silently.

“There are only two planets where Kusberi grows. That is their home world of Sulisht, and the planet Fondor.”

“Oh my gods. What has he done?” Master Hobart asked.

“He’s made sure that the Sulishti will die out.” Yaka said. “And even if some do survive, that they can never live on Fondor or Sulisht, ever.”

“Padawan-”

“Get aboard Padawan Sani of Naboo. Now!”

“Am I going to make toast for the voyage?”

“You might yet.”
*****

The trip was quiet. Usually a person that joked with everyone, Breia was a stolid lump this trip. Amberdon handled the cooking, kept watch when the automated sensors didn’t do it for him, and brooded along with her. The ship hummed softly to itself, the single A1 droid puttering around as it tuned the systems as they flew.

He went forward, checking the instruments. He took the controls. “Master we will arrive any moment.” She didn’t respond. He watched as the stars appeared. In orbit were hundreds of orbital docks. Thanks to the systems position near a great many resources, a dozen or more companies had built their own drydocks in orbit. Something like a third of the ships of the Galaxy were being built right here.

“Contact the Fondorians. I must speak with Landru immediately". Breia walked forward, sitting in the second chair.

A few moments later, the screen cleared. He had aged dramatically in the last years, worn down as if by a fierce desert wind. Landru looked from the screen at them, then bowed his head. “Master Sookor. I have been expecting you.” He looked down, touching a control. “My family station is at these coordinates. Please, join me.” The signal ended.

Amberdon noted the location, and adjusted his course. The station was small, a personal residence rather than a business. The lights on the landing bay flashed, and the ship closed in on that location.

The doors swing open, and Millennium Falcon nestled down onto the deck. Amberdon stared at the wonder before him. The bay was a work of art.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Breia said, standing “Standby to get us out of here fast.” She turned walking toward ramp. As it came down she winced, grabbing her ears, then collapsing. Up in the cockpit, Amberdon had already been disabled.

The door opened, and a droid rolled in. It wrapped up the unconscious woman, then did the same for the man. Both were picked up and carried out.
*****

Kreekta lifted off, moving into orbit. Behind her came Padawan Sani of Naboo. Three other couriers lifted, Knight of Corellia, Knight of Ossus, and Padawan Rees of Coruscant. They stayed in a tight formation, awaiting-

Honor Blade dropped out less than 400 kilometers away. “Padawan Lang this is Master Soo-chin. Do not, I repeat, do not land on Coruscant. Join up with Jedi Formation. Prepare for instructions.”

As the ship approached, three of the Coruscanti couriers led by Padawan Sani of Naboo spun, heading for their destination. Knight of Corellia, Kreekta, and Honor Blade formed up, then turned onto their departure vector.

Not all of them will die well. Two will be rather badly and worse, will fail. One will die off screen and you may never know why. One will die nobly, the other because of a personal choice.

I am more sorry than you are. As the author, I am letting the story have it's head, and when they die it will be when there time has come. Trust me on that.

Heh, it doesn't _have_ to be written that way, but I know what you mean. Sometimes you just get dragged along in that direction.




What happened there was pretty much what happened in Russia after the KAL 007 fiasco. The three senior men in Stranya PVO, the Eartern Air Defense Network were fired by Gorby. Removing four officers and the equivilant of the Secretary of the Navy is only a modest shake up in a disaster of this proportion.


Well, Russia wasn't exactly the bastion of democracy, so he could get away with that, I suppose. Here in the US we'd all be freaking out if something like that happened. Well, those of us who follow politics regularly, anyway. :)

Hmm, I either misunderstood/misread the ranks of the officers when they first appear in the infamous meeting, or I had forgotten their ranks by the time the Chancellor gets to them (you had all this great action in between, you know) and just made the assumption all of them were like Joint Chiefs level officers. I'd have to re-read to figure out which one it was, though I suspect the latter. I like the little political twist at the end with the Chancellor offering himself up for discipline.

Heh, it doesn't _have_ to be written that way, but I know what you mean. Sometimes you just get dragged along in that direction.

When I write, especially something that has flowed as smoothly as this one, I get dragged along by the story.



Well, Russia wasn't exactly the bastion of democracy, so he could get away with that, I suppose. Here in the US we'd all be freaking out if something like that happened. Well, those of us who follow politics regularly, anyway. :)


It happened here after 911, though we didn't notice it. It also happened at Abu Ghraib. On 911 the commander of NORAD was replaced, along with two other officers. At Abu Ghraib the Commandant of the Prison and her two subordinates were sent into military exile. The Brigadier was demoted to Colonel.


Hmm, I either misunderstood/misread the ranks of the officers when they first appear in the infamous meeting, or I had forgotten their ranks by the time the Chancellor gets to them (you had all this great action in between, you know) and just made the assumption all of them were like Joint Chiefs level officers. I'd have to re-read to figure out which one it was, though I suspect the latter. I like the little political twist at the end with the Chancellor offering himself up for discipline.

The ranks were as follows, as if they were American officers;

CNO: 5 stars, Commander Home Fleet: 3 stars, Chief of Procurement; 3 stars, Commander Planetary Defenses; 2 stars. Since there are over 300 officers in the US Navy of those ranks, this is not really that major. What would be is the fact that I am willing to bet (After all I wrote it) That all of the officers with the exception of the CNO were appointed by the CNO. That officer was appointed by the First Space Lord.

I am using a modified form of the British Navy where this actually happens all the time.

As for the chancellor, I have to agree with Master Hobart. It makes him look like a man willing to take his punishment as at the same time he blames that opposition party.

Now this could be because I was reading this last week while having some rather nasty insomnia worrying about my cat (who is better), and reading the forum at 1 am is not conducive to remembering things clearly.
So please forgive a totally stupid question--what is the role of the First Space Lord and how does he fit into everything?

The First Sea Lord in the British Government, or First space Lord in this situation, is as I said, the equivilant of the Secretary of the Navy in the US,

However the Secretary of the Navy cannot do what the First Sea Lord can, which is replace the men at the top with their own handpicked replacements. Every time the government shifts in Britain, the new FSL can remove any of the commanders of such departments as Buships, Buweps, Personnel, procurement, Operations (Their Equivalent to CNO) or Intelligence. When it is done very badly, a lot of problems can occur. If you have not read the Honor Harrington Series by David Weber, I would suggest reading War of Honor where the inner workings of a very badly run Navy can be seen in glaring detail.

Did I mention I've never studied British naval history? :)
OK, I know about Nelson, but only because of a class on Fr. Revolution/Napoleon.

Just when I thought I was getting a handle on the plot...

I thoroughly enjoy the plot twists in this story. I'm just not sure I know the background between Landru and the Sulishti. I think I need to go back and read some stuff over again because I seem to remember some mention made of it. Whatever Landru's issue with the Sulishti is has got to be pretty serious, since he has engineered a plan to wipe out their entire race.

If you don't get it, don't worry. There's a lot of exposition between Landru and Breia coming right up.

Too late

Again it came down to simple geometry. A ship on a direct course from Nar Shaddaa had to travel a greater distance, but the Jedi ships left an hour and a half too late.

*****
The trio of Jedi ships dropped out of Hyper space less than 400 kilometers from the Bondrant.

“Sulisht control, this is Jedi courier Knight of Corellia, Master Soo-chin commanding. The ship approaching your planet has a lethal chemical aboard. It must be stopped immediately.

Jedi ships. You are not welcome. Depart or die.“

“Sulisht control, destruction of that ship is imperative. We are approaching to destroy it at this time.”

As The couriers charged after it every communications channel was broken by a transmission in Sulishti;

Warning. Attacked by Human vessels

Protect, protect.

The attack was masterfully planned. Bondrant was unmanned. Better that a system fail than someone suddenly in fear of their life abort it. After all, this was only a secondary attack. It it failed, the other would succeed.

Landru had studied his enemy well. Being insects, their primitive forebears had used several different chemical signals, that predated language, and their communications systems aboard their ships still did. These signals as with the human brain reach past the conscious mind, setting off alarms that are reacted to not consciously, but with a biological imperative far beyond reason. A signal of this sort will hurl a mass of stinging death against a bear or insects ten times their size. Launch an attack that ends when the enemy is dead or every defender is. Will cause them to even throw themselves against a fire or flood trying to bury it under their own bodies.

In reaction to that imperative the Sulishti warships in orbit turned, moving outward to protect their executioner.

“Sulishti control this is-” Master Soo-chin began.

“Depart.”

“We have to-”

“Depart or die.”

“All ships. We have to blow it up before it reaches Sulisht.” She ordered.

“What about the Sulishti?” Lang asked.

“Avoid them if possible, but that cargo ship must be destroyed!”

The three Jedi vessels spilt up, charging for their target.

The Sulishti were confused. The signal was in their language, the wording exact and correct, but somehow wrong coming from a ship they had never designed. But the language was imperative, and a score of fighters led the fleet into the attack.

Honor Blade dived right, rolling, her guns ripping into a fighter, then lunged past it. Other fighters barred Lang’s way, and he grimly settled down to merely defending himself. Knight of Corellia, broke to the left, trying the same, but was quickly cut off and Master Soo-chin found herself also unable to do anything but defend herself.

Sanji was in the center. His ship dove in, blasting a pair of fighters to scrap, then was on the tail of the freighter. Her guns blasted, but Bondrant had been modified with all of this in mind. The heavy armor on her stern shrugged off the hammer blows of his guns. Rafe Morale dodged a lunging attack by a trio of Sulishti fighters. “We need to use missiles!” He shouted.

Sanji nodded, turning to the second panel, flicking on the switches arming the three missiles Kreekta carried. The ship suddenly slammed to the right, and air shrieked through a gap in the transparisteel cockpit.

Sanji reacted. He slipped his air mask on, still setting the panel. A red light flashed. The burst had shredded the missile bay.

“Rafe get us out of here!” He spun. Rafe would never smile at him again. A shell had blown his head open. He remembered Yodai back on Coruscant when he had gone to the Admiralty.

Master no sense it makes that I must not go.

Padawan, your time has not yet come. Stay here you will. You will be a Padawan Teacher on the dawn, as you deserve

Place beside you I belong.

Trust in the Force. You are needed here. Where I go you won’t follow yet.

Sanji closed his eyes, then opened them, flipping the switches that transferred control from left seat to right. He turned whipping into a spin, Rafe’s hands following his, still locked on the controls by his death. Sure my young friend. Help me. I couldn’t do this without you.

He raised the nose, running down the side of the massive ship, then turned, boring toward the dead center of mass. If he hit it just right-

An instant before impact a shell from a heavy projector smashed the nose of Kreekta. Sanji was killed instantly. He never knew that he had not only failed, but done so catastrophically.

Kreekta had been blown into a sharp turn, aiming not at the side of the massive freighter or at the bow, which might have helped. Instead she rammed the portside stern of Bondrant, exploding. Engines disabled, the ship continued her plunge, actually pushed into a much better angle by that helpful tap. The ship whipped around the atmosphere at less than 25 kilometers altitude station keeping thrusters holding off her immolation, gas streaming from her holds as the dive shallowed out. Then it lurched, the station keeping thrusters had exhausted their fuel, the ship dipping to finally head for the surface. The gas had been evenly distributed throughout the atmosphere, sliding downward as the heavier molecules were attracted by gravity. As she began this final dive a series of small charges pushed small packets out that deployed ablative shields. Her nose glowed, and the ship fell, coming apart as it punched down through the atmosphere, then impacted into one of the giant nests of the Sulishti.

As if planned, every Sulisht ship stopped firing, every bow turned toward the plant so far away. Soo-chin felt a wave of something through the force, but it wasn’t death,

A shuttle was taking off below, but as it started to leave the atmosphere it suddenly plunged back as if afraid.

“Human ships, human ships. This is Admiral WWelldori. We have reports of widespread madness on the planet. People boarding shuttles are reporting intense fear and pain as they approach their ships. Explain.” As the signal was sent, the Sulishti fighters withdrew toward their fleet.

Soo-chin stared aghast. The com channels from the planet were inundated. More shuttles, even a warship started to lift, then suddenly settle back down on the planet.

“Admiral, a madman attacked several locations, several planets and peoples. He released a gas which drive people mad and they murder anyone around them.”

“We know of this. Our station in orbit was destroyed because of it.”

“The gas affects were discovered to be permanent in your species. We came to stop that weapon from being deployed.”

“Yet there are no reports of such a killing madness. Instead our people return to their nests and cower. The ships that were supposed to lift and repel you have refused to fly. Instead they cower unable to even leave their vessels.”

Soo-chin shook her head. “He has modified it again, somehow. Perhaps this madness is related to the chemical.”

“Perhaps. But if it has caused our people to become as they seem to be becoming, we can never travel in space again.”

“No Admiral.” She snapped. “You and your crews still can. If your race is to survive, you must not go home. If you and your crews value the lives of their race. Wish to protect them still, do not attempt to land of Sulisht.” She considered. “Anision is still available. You can start a new society there.”

“Too far. We must build a new station. One free of this contagion.” There was a long pause. “One that our own people below can never visit for fear of this madness spreading.”

“We will bring your case before the Galactic Trade Authority. Once we have discovered a way to cleanse what must come to you from below, we can begin shipping it in sealed and depressurized lighters.”

“We have no choice.” The Admiral finally answered. “To protect our people, we can never go home. Guide us in this Master Jedi.”
*****

The talks went on for several days.

Soo-chin stared at the planet. From below the com lines were still open, but all were filled with the fear these people now had. Even flights from place to place on the surface had ceased. WWelldori had acted as the mediator between the planet and the Jedi, and while long and convoluted, for once the Sulishti and the Humans above were working to the same point rather than at cross purposes.

Message torpedoes had gone out, and ships began popping out on the last day of the meeting. Coruscanti cargo vessels loaded with formed metals to begin construction, tools for working it, and several manufactories designed just for the Sulishti to operate. It would take the better part of a year, but one of the first ships reported that a Czerka Corporation was sending a full scale repair dock to arrive within the month so that the Sulishti fleet in orbit could be maintained.

“How long do you think this will last?” She asked.

Padawan Losian her student shrugged. “The natives or the contagion?”

“The affects on races other than the Sulishti?”

“Maybe forever. Until we have a measure of how this chemical was manufactured and how it degrades, it’s too soon to tell.”

“Record it. Record it all.” She sighed. “Honor Blade, this is Knight of Corellia. Deploy the warning buoys.” Both ships turned, and they seeded the space with glittering gems. As each fell from the ship, it activated.

Warning, Planet Sulishti has been affected by a chemical weapon lethal several species. Do not land under any circumstances. This agent is deadly, and will remain deadly for an estimated minimum of 20,000 years. All communication with the planet is via Station Omega 1 in orbit. This is your only warning. A few moments later, it repeated, each buoy covering a different band, in every known language.

Finally Knight of Corellia broke the silence “Come on, Lang. There’s nothing we can do.”

The two ships turned, headed away.

Hey! You had a double-post of Too Late. Did you know that you can delete a post if you want through a "delete message" option in the edit post feature. :)

I felt the honor of Sanji's death, even though his decision to sacrifice his life to prevent the cargo vessel from reaching the planet was rendered useless. In my view his decision to turn kamikaze was the only choice he had left if he still wanted to save the planet. As so often happens during the course of battle he became a victim of circumstance and his effort rendered useless. That doesn't mean that his sacrifice shouldn't be remembered and honored.

I thought the planet went all crazy rather too quickly. I grant you that you've stated in a previous chapter that the freighter had enough gas to poison an entire planet's atmosphere but would the gas have dissipated throughout Sulisht's atmosphere that quickly? I definitely can see how the hive the freighter crashed into was affected as well as the surrounding 100 kilometers or so but I don't understand how the entire planet would have been affected that fast.

Did I mention I've never studied British naval history? :)
OK, I know about Nelson, but only because of a class on Fr. Revolution/Napoleon.

Not to worry. I studied it for you.

Question, I'm trying to remember the name for a reaction when a chemical such as caffeine in an adult, which causes them to be hyped up, causes a young child to go to sleep or relax instead?

Not to worry. I studied it for you.

Question, I'm trying to remember the name for a reaction when a chemical such as caffeine in an adult, which causes them to be hyped up, causes a young child to go to sleep or relax instead?

Paradoxical effect. (you'd think it'd sound more Latin/Greek than that. :) For once someone called a med term by what it actually does.)
Usually refers to the stimulants used to treat ADD/ADHD.

I have edited the last chapter so that I have removed the 'miraculous' destruction. The next chapter follows. Two more to go before Part one of the 2nd book is complete.

Speaking of stickies (I know we weren't but I was thinking about it) I may post a thread on 'Resources' and if stingerhs wants to sticky it, then he can. I also thought that since a million of us ask you how to get a review, but don't read the entire critic's corner right off to get the info, you might want a separate 'So you want to get reviewed' thread, which would include info on how to submit and the recommendation to spellcheck/edit/etc. You know, the things you repeat for all of us. :)

You'd think I'd be more interested in naval history with my dad being a Navy man, but it just doesn't float my boat.

Speaking of stickies (I know we weren't but I was thinking about it) I may post a thread on 'Resources' and if stingerhs wants to sticky it, then he can. I also thought that since a million of us ask you how to get a review, but don't read the entire critic's corner right off to get the info, you might want a separate 'So you want to get reviewed' thread, which would include info on how to submit and the recommendation to spellcheck/edit/etc. You know, the things you repeat for all of us. :)

I'd love it. Now if only I could get paid. To tell you all the truth I haven't had this much fun in ages. Reviewing, editing, critiquing is fun because I can act as a teacher, somthing I would never get hired to do.

You'd think I'd be more interested in naval history with my dad being a Navy man, but it just doesn't float my boat.


Kid, I fell in love with military history when I watched an old movie called the 300 Spartans. I started studying anything and everything related to it. I can give you reasons for why a war began (Except for the Iraq mess, which makes absolutely no sense at the start) which go beyond the history books, and lay out how weapons changed warfare. I served in the Coast Guard, and my special love was Naval warfare for about fifteen years.

I'd love it. Now if only I could get paid. To tell you all the truth I haven't had this much fun in ages. Reviewing, editing, critiquing is fun because I can act as a teacher, somthing I would never get hired to do.


One of the reasons I didn't finish the history PhD--there's no jobs. That, and while studying history of medicine, I missed actually being in the med field.


Kid, I fell in love with military history when I watched an old movie called the 300 Spartans. I started studying anything and everything related to it. I can give you reasons for why a war began (Except for the Iraq mess, which makes absolutely no sense at the start) which go beyond the history books, and lay out how weapons changed warfare. I served in the Coast Guard, and my special love was Naval warfare for about fifteen years.

:lol: You are just too kind with 'kid'....I've celebrated multiple anniversaries of my 29th b-day.
Iraq--I don't think we'll get too far on that til some documents get declassified. Watching Villepin and Powell debate in the UN prior to the war was fascinating.
The scuttlebutt among folks in the military (which I take with as much salt as I do any other gossip) is that they thought they were seeing WMDs moving, worried about Saddam doing something idiotic (esp to Israel, since he'd tossed some Scuds over there in the other war), and thought that Saddam was financing some of the terrorist cells. They also think the WMDs were transported just over the border in Syria and we don't want to go in and stir things up there. My thought is if they had enough nerve gas to take out an entire Kurdish village, they likely had at least chem weapons around somewhere. The fact that Saddam was thumbing his nose at the UN resolutions didn't help.

Captive

Breia shook her head. She knew what had hit her. A sonic stunner circuit connected directly to the very internal communications system. It felt like someone had played a rather nasty game of Parpan with her head.

Her eyes opened. She was slung against a wall, tightly wrapped in plastic as if a spider had hung her for a meal. At a small table a few meters away, Landru sat, staring out the clearsteel at the panorama of Fondor. She sensed to her left and right. She was the only one on the wall. What of Amberdon?

“I am sorry. Your Padawan died.” Came a soft voice from the table. Landru sipped the bitter wine he had chosen for this moment. He looked up at his teacher. “There are some more susceptible to a sonic blast. I had not considered it.”

"What does one more death matter?" She asked.

He shrugged. "I had no animosity toward such a noble man. You have always chosen the noble kind of people for Padawan I have seen."

“Had you considered how many hundred of thousands would die when you created that hell weapon?”

“Yes I did.” He stood. “I am building a new world, a world without sin, where no devil with six legs can ever dwell ever again.”

“So a quarter million people had to die so you can live in this new world?”

“So I could create it.” He turned, walking toward the panels. He reach out, touching them as if he could hold the planet in his hand. “I don’t plan on living there, and they would not let me if tried. Don’t you see I know what I have become. I have not only cast aside everything you taught me, I used it to help me. I have become a monster that has only one reason to live, and once that reason is gone, I will leave the stage to those who deserve it without taking a bow. My name will be cursed for centuries, and no one will remember quite why I have done what I have.

“Remember the old legend of the Wanderers? Cast into space for two generations, led by a man that knew where they were bound, but unable to tell them where? If you remember he reached that new world, but died before he could set foot on it. Remembered now only for the voyage.” He pointed. “There, the red spot? That is my home town. Where I was born. Where my family lived until the consortium chose our planet for their vision of a better Galaxy.” She could sense the anguish he felt. “That red is Kusberi. It grows rapidly and is incredibly invasive. The Sulishti scattered spores of it throughout the northern hemisphere. They have been carried by the winds throughout the planet. There are little sprigs of the filth everywhere.

“None of my family survived that. Kusberi has a secondary effect that the Sulishti didn’t bother to mention. It is an allergen of exceptional strength. The pollen causes severe reactions in some people specifically humans.

“No one bothered to discover this until it was too late. Not the Sulishti, not the Companies that belong to the other races, not the governments.

“Oh the Conglomerate developed a medication eventually, when they had problems with their own people. But it isn’t for us. Unless a Fondorian works for the Conglomerate, they aren’t allowed to have it. Instead they offered compensation and relocation.

“Compensation! My family is extremely susceptible. My father died choking on his own vomit because the Conglomerate couldn‘t be bothered! When I heard I tried to go home, but the Conglomerate requires tests now for anyone coming to my home world. I was more susceptible if that is possible. I stood here!“ He pointed at the deck at his feet. “Here while watching my father’s pyre. My sister’s, my mother’s both of my younger brother’s. Unable to even touch that beloved flesh when they died. I can never go home because doing so will kill me as surely as it killed my family. A lot of my people have already died.

“Then I had to consider who is worse? The animals that needed a special diet, or the ones that strip mined mountains into pits for materials? That have let a quarter million people die rather than supply a vaccine because it will cut into their profits? It will take ten millennia or more before the planet can heal what they have caused if they stopped today. Ten thousand years of anguish for my people which can’t even start until the occupation ends.

“The Trade Authority-”

“The Trade Authority has only one rule. Trade must continue. No planet has the right to gainsay them in that holy quest.” Landru turned back. He motioned, and a droid moved forward. “Lower her and bring her, please.”

The droid, a version of the L7 Police units of Corellia slid her down off the wall, carrying her upright to be held before Landru.

“Don’t you think I tried, that We-” he waved back toward the planet, “didn’t try? Every time we found a sympathetic judge, we were forestalled. On Corellia, on Coruscant, on Ryloth, even on Nal Hutta, our injunctions would be filed, and on each planet other judges on higher courts struck them down.

“We tried one last time. I asked the Order for arbitration in the name of our people. What did we get?” He snarled. “Your precious council on Coruscant would only ‘study the problem’. They would ‘advise’ that there be a moratorium to discover if Kusberi could be rendered less dangerous to humans. They would try to convince the Conglomerate to suspend mining.”

“Zardan, the order does not have the authority to force governments to change. To force companies to do things a better way. That is what governments are for.

“And every government I mentioned except the Sulishti are controlled by the companies they would try to rein in. Eventually they would finally do so. What are a few hundreds of thousand of additional lives in that mix?” He motioned. “My people are still sick, they are still dying. If you were born on Fondor, living there is a death sentence issued at birth, thanks to the Sulishti.

“The Sulishti were the worst. To them all other races are either impediments, or background noise. They only speak to us when they want to. I went myself after I left the order. No hive officials would recognize my need, my pleas. I was detritus in the road to them.

“This is an excuse for killing-”

“Half a million of our people died while that went on!” He screamed. “Half a million people that did no harm to anyone. That weren’t important because they weren’t stockholders, didn’t vote on boards, didn’t live on Coruscant or one of the other worlds that decided to use our home as a factory and garbage dump.” He calmed, “I am merely returning that favor.”

He turned back to the screen. “Down there, fifty kilometers from my home, I have decided to put and end to it. When I am through the Galaxy will have to give us that ten thousand years.”

“So now you execute your own people?” She asked softly. “How does that balance the scales?”

“Kill them?” He laughed gently. “No my dear teacher. I am going to save them.”

*****

The Jedi in the second flight were rocked by the deaths of almost an entire race. The worst of it was there was no way to communicate between them. Traveling in hyper space was not unlike digging a hole, getting in it and filling it back in. Nothing went into that abyss that did not go in with you.

Yaka was affected worse than Breia was. She had felt death before, close enough because she had been dealing it. But the gentle Ithorian had never felt violent death beyond what was natural on his world, and that which happened by misadventure in a city. This was a weight that bore him down on his knees weeping. Breia was a little better off, but she held him as he cried not only for a race, but for those who had had done it, led by one of their order.

Aboard Padawan Rees of Coruscant. Newly appointed Padawan teacher Yodai locked himself in his room, weeping silently, rocking as he did. I failed you master he thought. [/i]I was not there to help you, protect you, and if failing die with you. How did you know?[/i]

Board Knight of Coruscant, Master Hobart wept for the Sulishti, for a student he had known for three decades, and in his heart for Breia Sookor. Even now he knew she could feel Sanji’s death. How much more pain could she take?

*****

Breia had decided that she had quite enough of hanging like a trophy on Landru’s wall. She felt around her clothes, and came to an alarming discovery. Landru had removed every bit of metal and plastic from her clothing while she was unconscious. For decades she had used her blindness ruthlessly when dealing with enemies. No one considered a blind woman as a real danger, and a blind old woman was even less so. She had always secreted blades and Cnifta darts through her clothes sowing them like crops she would need in the future, and had never been failed by them. Not this time.

She had never considered that anyone who was an enemy would ever know her this well.

Landru came into the room, looking out of the window again with a hungry look “I just received the message torpedo from the Monastery meant for you. My plan has worked beyond my wildest expectations. I had assumed the Monastery would send ships to stop the ship from crashing on Sulisht. I never imagined I had judged the Sulishti so poorly. They not only stopped the Jedi, allowing my plan to work, but when they discovered that it allowed their own people to be eliminated, they went home” He shook his head in wonder. “They went home and died with them.”

“This pleases you?” She snapped. “You have committed genocide and you’re pleased?”

“No.” His eyes grew sad. “That my people will no longer suffer because of them pleases me. That instead of living more years trying to hunt the last of them down I can end it pleases me. All the pleasure I gained was that my plan had worked. You taught me to enjoy a perfect plan clicking from beginning to flawless fruition. The few remnants of the species will die out, and good riddance.” He looked through the window again. Beyond it, Feradi awaited his signal. He punched in the codes, and the ship drove toward the planet below. “One more piece needs to be in position, and my task is done.” He turned. “I cannot allow you to stop me, but I do not want your death on my conscience, Master. I must wait for the rescue that will come. Only then will it all come together as it must.”

“You must stop. Millions will die.” Breia pleaded. “Think of the children!”

He maneuvered the distant robot vessel with finicky care, placing Feradi in orbit above his home at less than fifty miles altitude. Once it was there, held only by orbital mechanics, he leaned back, turning to face her.

“No. I have made an estimate. 62,500 more will die. None of them Fondorian.” He smiled sadly. “My last legacy. My last slap in the face at those who wish to treat my home as a garbage pit. My death will follow within hours.” He turned. “For my family, for my people. For my beloved dead. It ends here today.”

Cordon Sanitaire

Like avenging angels three couriers dropped out of hyperspace. Ahead of them approximately 14000 kilometers away was the bulk of the docks in orbits.

“Master, there is a ship registering as the Feradi in very low orbit of the planet.” Padawan Mooroli reported, the Lekku of his head weaving gently.

“Any sign of Millennium Falcon?”

“Yes sir.” He keyed a button, flashing a holo up. “The Falcon is in the boat bay of this small station in orbit approximately 50 kilometers higher.” He flinched. “Feradi is in motion. Dropping downward. The station is deorbiting. It will hit atmosphere in ten minutes.”

“Stop it I will, Master Hobart.”

“Do that, Yodai.” Hobart considered. There were too few of them. The people in shuttles headed for the planet had to be warned, as did the massive stations in orbit as well. But Breia was also in danger...

“Padawan Solo, go to Master Sookor’s rescue. I will go to the command station and quarantine everyone who has come up from the planet. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“On it.” Padawan Sani of Naboo swept down into a tight turn. “Padawan Reiger, you have to play shepherd. Do not let any more shuttles approach the planet. If they refuse to stop, fire a warning burst. If they still fail, fire to disable.” Without a word Knight of Ossus turned onto it’s new course.

“For all, may the Force be with us.” Knight of Coruscant turned toward the stations ahead, radio waves already reaching out.

*****
“Sir, these shuttles are scheduled up to 48 hours in advance. We cannot just cut the planet off-”

“Almost a half million people are already dead and you’re saying you can’t stop shuttles because it will interfere with your schedule? There are over sixty thousand of your own workers on the planet, along with three and a half million Fondorians and your precious schedule is more important?” Hobart asked coolly.

“Well I-”

Hobart continued ruthlessly. “Since this conversation is being recorded I ask you again; Which is more important, your precious schedule or more lives!”

The man swallowed, and his voice was quavering. He hit a button and an alarm klaxon sounded. “All stations, cease launching and recovering planet bound shuttles. I repeat., all stations, cease launching and recovering planet bound shuttles. All stations go to defensive fire plan Beta. All defensive systems on active.

“All shuttles approaching planet Fondor. Do not enter atmosphere, I repeat, all shuttles approaching planet Fondor. Do not enter atmosphere.

“All shuttles on approach from planet Fondor, go to area grid Zed Alpha Niner, hold until called for. Any and I repeat any attempt to dock before you have been cleared will cause your destruction. Defensive systems on all station are now active.” He switched off. “Satisfied?”

“Not until this menace is taken care of.

*****

Padawan Rees of Coruscant dived howling into the upper atmosphere. Below it, barely traveling mach 7, was Feradi. “All weapons active.” Yodai ordered. He turned to his console. The ship had made three circuits of the planet before he had closed the range, and the gas that was venting stopped. A series of smaller canisters had been spraying outward on this orbit instead of gas, but Yodai wasn‘t taking any chances. The Proton torpedo dropped, slamming forward at almost a tenth of light speed. The launch and the explosion that shredded the ship into flinders happened almost simultaneously.

“What about the canisters?” Padawan Samsun asked.

“Too small to target they are. Hope we must that people not there when they land.”

The canisters spun madly on their descent, steadying to drop almost straight down as they cleared a kilometer’s height. At a quarter kilometer, very small charges peeled them open like ripe fruit, dispensing flocks of bird into the air. On the night side they settled down, going to sleep automatically. But on the day side, the air was filled with deadly song.

*****
“Shuttle Alpha two niner, this is Jedi courier Knight of Ossus. You will immediately come right to two zero niner and proceed to area Zed Alpha Niner as instructed.”

“Knight of Ossus. we are closer to Fondor ground one. Will proceed-”

Padawan Reiger keyed the guns. He had purposely offset by seven degrees, a distance of just 200 meters in front of the plunging shuttle’s bow. The tracers shot past like bolts of livid fire. The shuttle leaped upward like a fly attempting to escape.

“Mayday, mayday! This is shuttle Alpha two niner! We are under attack!

“Shuttle Alpha two niner, that was your only warning shot. I am dialing the weapons to center of vehicle mass.” Reiger, a tall man with long ash blonde hair and cold eyes leaned into his microphone. “You have five second to comply.” He then began counting calmly.

At four the shuttle lifted back toward orbit.

“Shuttle Alpha two niner, I will warn you that if you attempt to head anywhere except Area Zed Alpha Niner, we do carry four missiles. You will get a first hand look at what they can do out to three light seconds distance.”

Sullenly the shuttle did exactly what it had been told to do.

“Master Reiger. I though the range of our missiles was only two point five light seconds.”

“Really? You mean I lied to that man?” His look was so innocent that Padawan Diera Coori laughed.

*****
“Look, Master, they approach as I anticipated.” Landru opened the boat bay, dispassionately watching Millennium Falcon flip end for end as the air blew it away from the station.

“I do hope someone saves the ship.” He commented. “We spent a lot of years aboard that ship.”

“Yes. “ Breia sighed. “Enough to know that you have gone insane my apprentice.”

“Apprentice.” He sighed, looking back at her with love in his eyes. “You may not know it, but you saying that word takes me so far back.”

“Back before murder was an option.”

“After I am dead, and you see what I have done, at least someone will understand.” He turned away, all business again. “Only one ship. A maximum of four Monks. I will deal with them, bundle you onto the ship, and send it off. Goodbye, Master.” He slipped a pair of earplugs into his ears into his ears, and touched the key for the sonic projector.

*****
As Padawan Sani of Naboo settled on the deck, Yaka found himself humming. An atonal wail from all four throats simultaneously. He almost stopped, but it suddenly struck him.

There was a predator on his home world called a Shrieker. It attacked by first stunning it’s prey with a supersonic wail, then stung the victim to death and fed on the body. His people had developed the same atonal wail to protect themselves and when struck by such an attack, the instinctively gave out this humming sound. Beside him Breia Solo gave a shriek of pain, holding her ears in agony. He stood, still wailing, and ran to the cargo bay. He found a set of ear protectors, sliding them on the woman as the tone died.

“What is happening?” A4’s eyes turned toward him.

“Sonic weapon. The Master is unconscious.” He turned. The droid had followed him. Can you pilot this ship?”

“That is very simple. I can-”

“This station will fall out of atmosphere in less than a minute. If I am not back you must get the ship away.”

“But you don’t have time-” The droid was talking to empty space.

*****

Yaka passed the droid carrying the unconscious Master Sookor. He could not have explained to a layman where he was going. Another Jedi would have understood that little tilt of sound or light that guided him.

The room was deep and open. A man stood at the transparisteel windows, watching as they edges of metal began to begin to glow. He looked up, taking in the Ithorian with a calm glance. “If you don’t leave immediately, you will die.”

“I am taking you with me, Landru. The dead demand it.”

“I don’t care what they demand, my young friend. I am going home.”

“If I must force you, you will come.” Yaka drew his sword, then gently lay it on the deck. Then he lumbered forward.

*****

“What is happening?” Breia Sookor snapped awake with yet another headache. There was a rather ugly droid standing over her.

“I was ordered to move this ship away and into space when one minute had elapsed.”

She stood. She was unsteady, but she had been freed. She walked over to the command seat where her young namesake lay still stunned taking her sword. “Then I suggest you obey that order.”

“But Master Sookor-”

“I have to try to save an old friend.” She dived out of the ship, running. A4 watched her go. 29 seconds and counting...

*****

Breia flew down the corridors, running against time. Even as she knew she was too late.

The room was as it had been when she had first awakened there. Only one thing was different, the crumpled body of a young Ithorian lay curiously relaxed on the floor. She turned. Landru stood at the window. “Another life.” She snapped.

He turned, tears running down his cheeks. The gun he had used to kill the young Jedi dropped from his trembling hand “He was the bravest being I have ever met. He cast away his sword to take me with his bare hands. I pointed the gun at him. Fired a warning shot! He struggled with me, it went off...” Landru fell to his knees. “Why can’t you just kill me or let me die?” He screamed. “It is done, over, and I want to go home!”

She padded toward him, standing over him like Nemesis. He looked up, eyes begging.

Breia set the sword down, kneeling to hold him. The frame of the transparisteel was burning away as the station continued it’s final plunge.

“My greatest student, my greatest failure.” She whispered.

“But you don’t understand. I didn‘t fail.”

He spoke to her, telling her all. By the end she was laughing when the transparisteel melted.

*****

Three seconds...Two seconds...One second... A4 keyed the controls. The ramp coming up even as the engines screamed. He spun the ship in place, ramming it through the opening door of the boat bay.

“Wha...” Breia Solo tried to stand, but between a blinding headache and vertigo she ended up sprawled on the deck. Around her she could feel the ship shuddering as it punched up out of the atmosphere.

“Yaka...”

“Padawan Yaka left the ship intending to find Master Sookor and the enemy. He did not return. Master Sookor was brought aboard by the L7 waiting in the cargo bay. I have accessed it’s memory. A full rendition of how the gas was manufactured was in it‘s memory along with a list of everyone connected to it. Those who have not already been incarcerated will be.”

“Breia...”

“She left the ship to save an old friend in her own words. Both of them gave me a countdown to depart if they had not returned.”

“They... Are still on the station?”

“There is no station for them to be on.” The screen lit up. Behind them, the burning hulk of the station was screaming down into the atmosphere. As she watched, it landed in a circle of buildings surrounded by a deep red growth of plants. At mach 20 it was no longer metal and plastic, but an energy state eager for immolation. The equivalent of a ten kiloton warhead erased the town it fell on from the map.

She stared at it in horror. Yaka, Master Breia Sookor. Gone in a flash of light heat and sound. The com panel flashed, and she keyed it absently.

“Padawan Sani of Naboo. This is Padawan Reiger aboard Knight of Coruscant. Did you succeed?”

“No.” She whispered, sliding into the flight seat of the ship. “Padawan Yaka and Master Sookor are both dead. They rode the station down.”

“Gods.” Reiger gasped. “Join up at the command station with Master Hobart. I’ll keep this up.”

“No.” She wiped her eyes. “You need help. I will circle the containment area until all shuttles are accounted for.”

“Understood, Padawan Solo. You ride herd, I‘ll chivvy them along.”

*****

“Curious.” A4 said.

“What are you going on about now?” Breia asked dully.

“The chemical composition of the weapon.”

“What?”

“It is not stable.”

“Of course it is not stable. Creating a weapon susceptible to a sound vibration pretty much guarantees that it will be unstable.” She snapped.

“Yes. But examine these.” above the droid’s head a holo showed the artificial chemical breaking down then recombining in the Kusberi DNA. As she watched, each was highlighted. “The Sulishti specific compound has changed. It is no longer lethal, but...”

“But what?“

“It now causes a violent reaction to air pressure, making them physically sick the higher they go. The effects are similar to withdrawal from some of the nastier pain medications. An altitude of even a few hundred meters will cause physical discomfort bordering on agony.” The photo receptors swiveled. “You do know that on ships all species reduce standard air pressure to save on mass carried. Just being in a ship when they seal the hatch could be painful. It also causes a panic reaction linked directly to this in any that breathe it in the long term. Every time they try it will become worse. But these,” The other three flashed. “Are unstable. they have half lives if you will.”

“Meaning?”

“The first to dissipate into uselessness is the Human specific. It needs these key elements (Sections started to flash) which do not occur in nature. They are manufactured. 48 hours after the Kusberi begins producing it, the compound becomes this.” Another molecule subtly different appeared. “Though it does not degrade into safety for almost 2,000 years.

“the Twi-lek specific begins degrading next, but is still dangerous for 4,000 years. However when the cast off molecules interact with the degraded Human specific compound it creates this.” Another molecule again subtly different appeared. “This will begin to occur within two weeks.

“The Hutt specific will take almost 10,000 years to degrade, but the castoff molecules will combine with the newly formed Human / Twi-lek hybrid to form this within about three months.” The new molecule looked a lot like...

“Bidraxidine?”

“A naturally occurring form that does not need to be manufactured. Actually if my figures for collecting and encasing the gas in carbonite are correct it will be cheaper to merely siphon filter and bottle it there in atmosphere rather than pay for manufacture. Since the primary supplier of Bidraxidine to the Galaxy are the Hutt, they no longer have a corner on the market.

“The large molecules which are still toxic can be filtered readily, so when the plant life creates the Bidraxidine it can be sold. The species in question merely cannot go to the planet for it.

“If any Sulishti are off their home planet, they will be unable to live on a planet or travel through a station where this chemical in use unless they are willing to stay there forever.”

“What about the Ruurians Verpine-”

“Yes, in the artificial form. This agricultural form will not break free if aspirated by those races. Their adrenal analogs will not cause it to form the weapon. It is perfectly harmless.” The droid swiveled it’s eyes toward her. “However, there is one other problem with the raw gas product during that period. The only way to be perfectly safe for either Humans Hutt or Twi-lek or for species other than the Sulishti on their home world require two things. One is they have to be exposed to this gas in every form from original to reconstituted, or have been born where it is present.

“Second, they must have a quantity of Kusberi pollen in their lungs and sinus cavities equal to a minimum of six months constant exposure. Any human not already been resident on Fondor for that period of time, is in deadly danger, and no new people can move there until the initial toxin has been rendered harmless without taking the chance that some of it remains.

“The children!”

“What has not been checked by the medical staff was the affect of this gas on juvenile forms. However like most stimulants used by adults, the paradoxical effect comes into play. Even in a normal environment, a child is unaffected by this chemical. Had you noticed that most of the survivors aboard relatively undamaged stations have been children?”

She hadn‘t. Damn. But it made sense. Everyone goes mad, you are afraid, you run and hid. Somewhere they can’t reach you. A child’s idea of hiding saved you when force of arms could not. “But what of the workers from the orbital facilities?”

“They get only sporadic doses of the pollen when they are in the planet. A continued exposure to the pollen is why the native Fondorians are so badly affected. They get it constantly. But when this strikes they will be the only ones free of the weapon.

“Then there is this which is also odd.” The toxin was displayed, and beside it, a small series of molecules. “On the left is the toxin. On the right, is the primary enzme in Kusberi pollen which affects humans and especially Fondorians. When they combine...” The toxin touched the pollen, and rolled around it, the toxin matching the pollen exactly. “The toxin blocks the chemical in the Kusberi from assimilation. It is a totally natural antidote to the allergic reaction. At the same time this combination renders the toxin inert in humans but no other race.

“Oh gods.” Breia slapped her forehead. He’s created a cordon Sanitaire!’

“What?”

“A term that means ‘clean area’. He has created a place where humans can live eventually, and anyone native can remain, but no one else can.”

She looked toward the planet, shaking her head in wonder. Then turned to her duties.

*****
The final death toll was 61,428. Watching the scenes from the cameras set up in the towns created for the workers was too reminiscent of what she had seen to feel good to Breia. But the scenes from the towns where the Fondorians lived apart from the interlopers was positively pastoral. Behind he she could hear a couple of the Conglomerate board members talking.

“We’ll have to build a massive station just for R&R.” One commented. “It’ll set our growth predictions back by at least a decade.”

“No. We‘ll just raise the price on our ships 10% across the board...”

Master Hobart came up before she turned to rip someone’s head off.

*****

Breia Solo’s Journal: Looking down on the planet, I am sure that both Landru and my namesake Master Sookor are both having a good laugh at what has occurred. Two planet has been neatly excised from the galaxy, and the only people capable of settling on the other one live on the planet below me, which is under quarantine, and will be for ten millennia.

She would probably be upset with the loss of Millennium Falcon but when Knight of Ossus went back to tow her in, the ship had been spinning down into atmosphere. Master Reiger and Padawan Diera Coori swear the ship turned to point her blunt bow at the planet before her final dive. She had served one mistress since I was a baby, and refused to let anyone sail her with that mistress now dust.

There are fifty thousand workers in the, uh ‘soft’ industries still trapped down below. Read bartenders, waitresses, people of negotiable affections, you name it. People that had lived on the planet so they could batten on the workers. The one group that Landru did not work into his calculations. All there long enough for the pollen to save their lives. It will take a long time to work out a way to transport them off. Without their usual source of income, they are not happy to be there, and the Fondorians don’t want them there.

There are also 42,000 children of five different races down there and seventeen human planets as well, orphaned by the weapon. While the conglomerate is trying to find parents and relatives, there is no hurry. The Fondorians are family oriented, and every child even the Rodian and Hutt children can find homes if they wish to stay. i watched a pair of families arguing who would take a poor immature Hutt of only seventy years old. The Sulishti trapped on that world have been relocated to Delta continent. Oddly enough now that they are trapped among us, they are beginning to interact more readily with other races.

The change between the sickly people that had lived tormented by the Kusberi and the people now immune to it is astonishing. If the corporations decide they have to mine on this planet. the citizens won’t forget the mess that has been made any time soon.

They have named the small songbirds ‘Landru’s skimmer. Whether we wish to label him a villain or a hero, the people of that once tortured planet will remember his music with fondness.

Even his last act was a touch of genius. The station he rode to his death landed almost exactly on the village he had been born in, abandoned by the Fondorians for five decades. He went home, and assured no one would live there ever. Only 20,000 odd of those leeches who worked for the Conglomerate lived there.

Master Hobart told me that Breia went to her death in peace. She was still alive when the station fell into the atmosphere and he swears amused greatly just before she died. He also opined that it was the Force itself that helped Landru succeed.

Now I wonder.

The Force is within all of us. Perhaps the power of four million odd people in torment fed his ability, made his plan no matter how insane it seemed work so smoothly. The reports from Nar Shaddaa are a puzzle because no one ordered Hand personnel to lay the elaborate fields of booby traps that were discovered at the stations that had been attacked. There is no signature of who might have done it, or why. Every piece used in their manufacture were common materials and the only way to tell a Corellian ‘Room Broom’ from the Coruscanti ‘Man sweeper is by serial numbers. Everything supposedly was already aboard those stations, and you can believe it if you wish. A lot of the Military do.

Some have suggested that people on the stations that have knowledge of such things placed them during their madness, but it begs the question of the ones set up with equipment they would not have had, such as missile pods. It is the one puzzle remaining.

The Chancellor won the election with a landside, his party so firmly in power I do not expect him to be deposed any time soon. He assured that the courts martial for the officers arrested at his order were scrupulously fair. Admirals Tori Logan Nadien Charles were convicted of all charges. The only one not sent to prison was Charles, who shot himself with his own sidearm before the sentence was read. Minister Riker was stripped of his seat in the senate, and is to be tried before a civilian court. Considering everything a lawyer can do in front of a civilian court that is not allowed before a military one, the trial may begin sometime in the next decade.

We are enroute to Coruscant. I am being assigned a new Padawan learner...

Sigh, very bittersweet. Enough to make me feel quite emotional about it. And that is no easy task.

Well, I have only one question for all of you.

Was Landru really that evil?

I have a tough time justifying exterminating an entire species for any reason. I'm not a moral relativist. :)
I can understand how he went down that path, however.

If you read my critic column, you will notice that at least three of our young fellows (One in the Galactic Senate) have explored this subject deeply. It isn't a matter of the old miquoted 'we destroyed the village to save it'. Rather it is, as I asked, did the Force itself assist this poor man to save his people? I agree that the destruction of an entire race was a bit of an over reaction. I will probably rewrite it and instead hit the Sulishti with something else.

Tell me, Jae, could I have arranged for the toxin not to kill them all, but to make it so the only place they could live is on their home world? Requiring say a constant supply of the enzymes from the Kusberi, like an addiction complex for Barbiturates?

It would mean that the toxin would also have to alter the Kusberi on Fondor (Maybe something in the soil is fundamentally different) so that they can live on their home world but can't come to Fondor without dying?

This is something you can play with. If you want to keep them tied on their planet/system exclusively, you might want to do something that prevents them from being x miles outside the atmosphere/system or something like that, or alter their hive mentality so that they never want to leave (such as changing something in their pheromones and so on), etc. You could make the xenophobia so bad that they never even want to leave their system. You could create a compound that interacts with their chemistry that means they can't leave an atmosphere of their specific chemistry, or make something unique to their planet--make it so that only their planet has the one thing they need to survive--a chemical, a bacterium/good virus/etc., the specific wavelength of their sun or planet magnetic field (though that could be reproduced I guess on a ship) etc.
Anne McCaffrey's Crystal Singer does it with a symbiot--once you're infected with it, you can't leave the planet for very long if at all.

If you do something to only keep them off Fondor, they can go other places.

I see what you mean. I have so many options. I will revise the chapter Too Late. Everyone give me about a week on that.

So, shall I finish book one and go on to book 2? I give the saucy 15 year old minx a name in that one.

"Did the Force assist Landru in saving his people" and "Was Landru evil" are two very different questions. :) The first asks about method, the second ethics. A third question--did Landru use the Force or did the Force use him?
I can't decide on if he used or got used by the Force. Was he evil? Yes.
I don't mind Landru being a sociopath that destroys an entire planet. It's very dark side. You can be a Hannibal Lechter-level sociopath and still manage to create good from thoroughly evil acts, intentionally or unintentionally.

Just my opinion, fwiw--Sanji's method of death bugged me a bit, probably because I always feel Jedi deserve 'noble' deaths if they really have to die in stories. It's like even in death they should be contributing something positive to life.
Sure, 'bad' deaths happen in real life all too often (DUIs, GSWs, etc), but SW isn't real life. My 2 pence. :)

I am working at rewriting parts of both Too Late and Cordon Sanitaire. I think I might surprise you...

I give two thumbs up :thumbsup: :thumbsup: for Republic Dawn for compelling characters, lots of hi-powered action, and a plot that really grabs hold of the reader. Well, at least one reader anyway. :D

Posts 60 (Too Late) and 69 (Cordon Sanitaire) have been rewritten to reflect Jae's comments.

Post 79 is the end of part one.

The never ending mission...

Padawan Dame Breia Solo stood before the line of ships. After discovering the gift of the Coruscanti Chancellor had given, Corellia Ryloth and even Nal Hutta had not wanted to be left out. She thought they had given their gift only to assure that they were thought of fondly by the Jedi, but that might be her own cynicism talking.

Of course the Hutt had supplied ships built by the Kuati, but it was the thought after all.

Seven medium cargo vessels were already en route to the other planets where the Order had Monasteries, one for each. The courier class ships given had been divided up so every one of the eight monasteries had four, and just to show equanimity, they had been split up so everyone was represented on the core systems. She sighed. While each of the other cargo ships were as yet unnamed, (Merely being called Jedi transport one to seven) there were more than enough names in the rolls of their dead for each of the couriers to receive names. Master Hontu was the only one with a cargo ship named after him.

She walked down the line. At the end was the computer panel, and she knew by asking it the list would be displayed. Every name of those 32 ships would strike a cord in her heart. She had known or learned of every one of them.

Only four were assigned to Coruscant. Four of the ships gleamed before her on the tarmac beside her own, waiting for their next assignments. Their crews, their missions...

Their deaths.

Padawan Sani of Naboo was remaining assigned to Coruscant along with three others. She could think of nothing that fit what they had lost more this last month than the ships that still sat waiting.

She reached up to touch the nose of each. Master Sookor of Echana, A sleek arrowhead shape like her own Hawk Flight. She would go on to Ossus as soon as a flight crew could be assigned. Master Gretu of Triseki, the sweeping lines of the Ryloth shipyards. And Padawan Yaka of Ithor. He would have probably been confused if he’d seen the ship that represented him. Irony was something he hadn’t mastered.

The Kuati designed ships that were not only fast, but heavily armed. Not two but 3 chain guns, a rotary fast reload launcher with six missiles. It looked like a pirate, named after the most gentle being she had ever known.

Padawan teacher Yodai was bouncing down the lane toward the tarmac, Padawan Learner Samsun though almost three times his height was almost jogging to keep up.

“Bought all the stores you have?” Yodai asked.

“Yes, master.”

“And tea is fully stocked?”

“Of course, Master.”

“Then leave we can?”

“If you let me go to the bathroom first!”

Yodai stopped, looking up at the tall man. “Should have gone before we left.”

Samsun stared at him, then grinned. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Joke I never do.” Yodai turned, an eyelid dropping in a lazy wink at Breia. “Ready you are Padawan Solo?”

Breia shook her head. “I am still waiting for my new Padawan learner.” She sighed. “Perhaps you should allow Samsun to run to the bathroom before we leave?”

“Control very important. Younglings must learn control. Of everything.” He glanced slyly at the young man. “Bladders especially.”

“All right, I know that was a joke!”

The elders chuckled. He dashed aboard Master Gretu of Triseki.

“Assigned you are where?”

“I am off to Mandalore. They want to have a Jedi handle the negotiations between the hiring authority and the Duros. And you?”

“To Lortu I am bound. End the war with Berodilo and Duloc they wish.”

“It’s about time. That war is older than I am.”

A figure in robe was walking toward them. Breia’s heart stopped. Yaka?

The Ithorian stopped, bowing. “Masters.”

They acknowledged her. She turned to Breia. “Master Solo, I am Meeri. I have been assigned as your Padawan Learner.”

“How did you do in sword training?”

“While I do not like the idea of using a weapon, I understand that it might become necessary.”

“It might.” Breia agreed. “Can you cook?”

“This is not something I learned, Master.”

“Call me Breia. The one thing to remember is that most beings do not eat all of their food raw. I can cook, but there will be times when I am too busy with the problem we are dealing with to cook, so you will have to learn some cooking.” She turned, walking toward Hawk Flight. “The first thing you will learn to cook is one of my old apprentice’s favorites. They are called Pancakes. As long as you stay away from the Coruscanti glow spice syrup and the Fire spice syrup. ..

Bravo, bravo...... Great job Machievelli, keep it up. Reading your story is such a pleasure.

Confrontation

It looked like an easy prize. One bumbling Corellian CEC J8 class medium cargo carrier with a Corellian Courier in escort. The planet Selden had reported a massive outbreak of Iridian plague, and the first ships with the necessary vaccine was ahead of them. The vaccine was worth it’s weight in Corellian fire opals on the black market.

The Pirate, an old Coruscanti Raptor class Escort slipped from the asteroid field, launching her four fighters. The fighters were a more eclectic mix. The newest was A Naboo A4 Streak. Two were Corellian Rampants, and the last was an ancient Alderaani Night Hawk.

The fighters dived in, headed for a choice morsel.

*****

“Three, two, one, disconnect.” The pilot of the Courier ordered, ramming the throttle forward.

*****

The sensor screened blossomed. The freighter seemed to be coming apart in front of their eyes. Had it exploded? No, now there were five blips instead of two, and three of them were arcing back toward the fighters. One was charging instead for the mother ship. The transponders on every one of those ships came alive at the same instant.

“Jedi!” The sensor officer screamed.

“Get us out of here!” The captain ordered.

The Courier fired a missile. The captain blanched. He’d never seen a missile that fast before. At least 25% light speed. Must be one of the brand new Corellian Spearfish.

The missile slammed into the side, buckling the hull, but didn’t explode.

“Ha!” The captain roared, waving his fist. “Get us out of here before they know we’re still here!”

“Just a second.” The navigator finished his calculations, and the escort vanished into hyper space. Unperturbed, the courier turned on a wing, joining her fellows. The fighters were shredded, and cables snapped out to drag the emergency support pods back to the cargo ship, which had turned to meet them. Suited personnel climbed out, pulling the pods in one by one, and the cargo hatch closed.

Master Hobart came in after the bay was re-pressurized, followed by his new Padawan learner Sienna Dodonna. They went to the pod that had come from the Streak. The pilot wearing a full helmet glared at them and waved a pistol threateningly.

Sienna smiled, then drew, her blade punching through the transparisteel, into the pistol. She jerked, and the blade sliced out of the cockpit, chopping the pistol in half in the process. She pulled the exterior release handle, and smiled again as the cockpit canopy came open. “Any more acts of defiance? Please?”

He raised the uninjured hand, and before she could react a blade shot out of it and was imbedded in his head.

The helmet revealed that he was a Barabel.

The other three were Barabel as well. None survived. One had been injured and bled out. The other two had taken their own lives.

“I thought that one would have just given up.” The girl grumped. “It’s not like he had a chance to escape.”

“Tight operational security.” Hobart replied. “If we can’t interrogate them, we can’t find out hiding place. They think.”

They went forward. The flight crew nodded at them, and the communications officer turned. “We got it, Master Hobart.”

“Send it to all units.” The Young Jedi nodded, tapping a button, then hit the all units key.

“So. Weslen.” One voice, another female replied. “Are you coming with?”

“No. I will let the children flit along on those one while the old man follows behind, Padawan Solo.”

“As you will.” The voice went from light to business-like. “All couriers, match your nav computers to mine. Prepare for hyper jump.” Hawk Flight dropped one wing, and the four small ships rotated onto the new course. A moment later they were gone.

The Cargo vessel Master Hontu turned onto the same course, and entered Hyper.

“ETA 2 days.” The pilot reported.

“They’ll be there in 17 hours.” Sienna sighed. “I wish I was with them.”

“That is why you are still a Padawan leaner, even with your gift for conciliation.” Hobart replied calmly. “That and the way you dress.”

“There is that.” She gave him a gamin grin. A number of marines who had been on the assault on station Alpha 4, especially 2nd squad second platoon of the 7th Marine Assault Force would have recognized the 19 year old by that grin alone. Her eyes twinkled. “But what’s wrong with the way I dress?” She asked, throwing her arms to the side. Am I not a girl?” She waved toward her clothes. The skirt, which on most Jedi was merely a robe had been slit up both sides to her hips, and then folded into Vees front and back, exposing quite shapely legs. The sleeves had been cut off at the shoulders, and the vest...

He sighed. “Sienna. The way you dress anyone with eyes in their head can tell you’re female. And any human man that sees you is well aware that he is a man.” Hobart closed his eyes. Leave it to Soo-chin to saddle him with this girl! “However we Jedi try to be a little more... circumspect.”

“As my sister the Navy Captain used to say before she became stodgy, if you got it flaunt it!”

He shook his head again. “Sienna I spoke with the Marines after the Alpha 4 attack.”

“What did those dear boys have to say?” She looked at him with that innocent expression she did so well.

“Those dear boys all seemed to think you wanted to date them! Right up to the Master Gunnery Sergeant old enough to be your grandfather!”

“All I did was say what Grandpapa always does.” She grinned again. “I never understood why you would ask a stupid question like ‘do you want to live forever‘! Most people I know would say ‘hell yes’! But Marines?” She chuckled. “Ask them something like that and they charge!”

“As soon as you can show me some propriety, we can discuss perhaps assigning you as a Padawan Teacher.” He said reprovingly.

“Yes Master.” He left. The two Padawan at the controls chuckled.

“Cold shower or meditation?” The pilot asked.

“Both.” Sienna said.

They laughed.

*****

The four ships dropped out in the Weslen system. There wasn’t much there, a lackluster little K0 star, three planets that looked as if they were embarrassed by their proximity, and a space station.

“Receiving data.” Padawan Meeri reported. Breia looked at the screen.
Padawan Sani of Naboo was tucked in tight on her left, Master Gretu of Triseki, Padawan Yaka of Ithor echeloned on her right. A standard finger four formation.

“Quick conference, people, and we’ll go in. The station is owned by a Twi-lek corporation, or was the last I heard. A way station between Bilbringi and Bogden and the Corellian Run. Anyone else got better data?”

“Sold it was two years ago.” Yodai replied from Master Gretu of Triseki. “Coruscant company Wayfarer Enterprises.”

“Wayfarer. That’s pretty new.” Padawan Carola Mortai of Alderaan added from [/i]Padawan Yaka of Ithor[/i]. They only started trading on the Stock market right before the Sulishti mess.”

“Has anyone noticed that the company is not run by humans?” Padawan Reyes of Corellia asked. “How many companies registered out of Coruscant are run by aliens?”

“Sixty-two.” Breia and Yodai chorused.

“That many?”

“Center of Galactic Trade Alliance Coruscant has become.” Yodai said. “Register on Coruscant, makes you important some think.”

“All right people. Reset transponders. Meeri, pick a number between one and ten. Everyone pick one of your own. Whoever is closest goes in first. Remember, we’re just honest independent couriers doing our jobs, so act like the straights, okay?”

It came down to Reyes, the newest of the Padawan teachers going first, followed by Yodai, Carola, and Breia last. She watched as each ship peeled out of the formation. “I think you jigger the numbers when I ask you to do that?”

“Do what?” Meeri asked.

“I ask you to pick a number on these joint missions, and if mine is even close someone else goes first anyway.”

“Would I do that to you?” The Ithorian asked with a hurt expression.

“In a heartbeat.”

Meeri shook her head. “I am only surprised that it took you so long to figure it out.”

“All right, just for that I hide the Calla berry syrup!”

“That’s mean.”

Breia shook her head. Yaka had been serious, and careful around humans. Meeri... She was a practical joker. The deadpan delivery was so well done you could rarely tell when she was joking. Her first such jape, replacing Breia’s favorite Fire Spice syrup with Alderaan honey Breia had at first merely assumed was a mistake in commissary services. When it had been replaced with Corellian Night Bloom midway through, that first trip she had finally figured it out.

“Time.” Meeri smoothly accelerated. She touched the com panel, looking at the heads up display. “Independent Echani Courier Flitter-bird requesting docking approach.”

“Flitter-bird. Docking bay 17 is open. Welcome to station Kroomerik.”

“They didn’t change the name registry.” Breia mused. I wonder why? Where is the target?”

Meeri checked the scanner. The limpet transmitter that they had fired into the Raptor ’s hull came back just fine. “All systems down. Docking bay 19. Two over starboard.”

“Can we access their nav computer again?”

“I would advise against it.” Meeri commented. “We had best wait until they power back up for departure.”

Breia sighed. Patience was not one of her virtues.

The station was a large wheel about five kilometers across. A docking bay was set about every 100 meters along her 16 kilometers of hull, broken by four huge storage bays. Ever since they had contacted the station, they had been bombarded by the shops of the station. If they had needed anything, it could have been bought here. Breia’s face grew grim as an ad for a ships’ chandler came up. One hell of a lot of ship board and personal weapons were being sold out of that place. She called down for a list, and leaned back, looking it over.

“Aren’t the Merr Sohn G14s on the restricted list?”

“Yes.” Meeri looked at the photo on the pad. The G14 was a heavy projectile rifle that would put a round through the ship they were on. “They are supposed to be military and military export only.”

“And look at this. Arkanian missiles I have never even heard of!”

Meeri looked again. “GT17s.” She looked at Breia with alarm. “Those are so new not even the Arkanian Navy has them!”

“Verpine hyper rifles, Cortech grenades in every flavor-”

“Humans taste grenades?”

“An expression.” Breia looked at her sourly. She could tell she had been twitted yet again. Look at this.” She handed the pad over as they docked.

Another ad was now displayed. It was for a ship retailer. The ad was below a ship that shouldn’t even bee seen yet. “A CEC Swift!” Meeri looked up. “The Swift isn’t even completed yet!”

“I know. Dad is still flying the test models.

“Yet this... ‘Delivery can be arranged by the end of the year‘.”

Breia tapped the pad against her hand. “What do we have bound for Weslen?”

“Nothing. But we do have a package meant for them.” Meeri tapped the logo for the arms dealer they had been checking. “And a few additions to the package would not be amiss.”

“Then we had best get dressed for out little play.”

Yay! Meeri and Breia are back! Woo hoo! Can't wait to see where this story goes.

Investigation

“Captain Breia Magulagi.” Breia said, handing over the ship ID chit. The customs man nodded, slotting it into his reader, and scanned it quickly. Breia had assumed the customs check was merely proforma, but it hadn’t been the case. He checked crew medical records, last port of call in case of disease, and cargo.

“Just the one crate?” He asked as a coffin sized box was lowered.

“Yes. Addressed to Cariali Chandlers. We aren’t going near Taris because of a problem my shipmate has with their customs officials, so we are going to see if they’ll accept here, and trans-ship it.”

“There’s been a lot of that. Ever since Taris decided to turn their continent into one massive city. And their immigration policies.” The customs officer looked at the sullen looking Ithorian with the woman. “If you’d like, I will hold it in the bonded storage area while you contact them.”

“Thank you.” Breia took back the updated chip, slipping it in the pouch before pocketing it. “Where is Cariali located?”

“North 17 right beside the Stars end Cantina.”

“Thank you.” She motioned for Meeri and they walked into the passageway.

“I don’t feel right about leaving the ship unguarded.” Meeri whispered.

“I agree. But A4 will watch over it for us.” Breia replied. The Transit car station was ahead, and she bought two all day chits. The chits slid into the reader, and they boarded the next car.

Behind them, a Dug stuck up his head, then slipped into the bay. He smacked his lips at the sight. A Corellian CEC Shadow class Courier! It might be four years old, but the design was superb! He moved to the entry ramp, and slid a box over to stand on. His burglar tools were laid out, and he looked at them carefully. Then he selected one, and began tinkering with the lock. When the first did not open the ship, he patiently set it aside, picking yet another slimmer tool. After a few moments, there was a hiss, and the ramp dropped down. Grinning, he trundled up the ramp. It closed after him.

*****

The cantina was dark, close, and for Breia who didn’t spend a lot of time in them, exciting. “Want to try some Corellian Red ale?” She asked. “Yaka liked it.”

Meeri glanced at he. “Yaka undoubtedly didn’t tell you that alcohol has no effect on us.”

“Really.”

“Yes, we get our ‘buzz’ as it were from sugar water.”

“Right.” Breia expected that she was being twitted again, looking around. Over in the corner she could see Padawan learner Samsun. but where was...

A hand came up, and Yodai pulled himself up onto Samsun‘s shoulder, growling. Then he climbed down and inhaled a bowl of pretzels. Samsun looked as disreputable as could be, unlike Breia’s persona of a slightly tatty ex-officer. In another corner Padawan Reyes looked even more disreputable. He had his hair uncombed, shaggy, and wore a thermal undershirt with an open neck, Black Corellian Navy uniform pants, and a black vest over it all. All he needs is a Corellian Blood stripe and he’d be perfect. She thought. Carola was propping up the bar almost dead center, looking as if she’s had more than enough to drink.

Breia scanned the bar as her character would. “Meeri, find a table. I’m going next store.”

“As you wish Captain. I‘m thirsty.” Meeri snarled. She was doing the disgruntled employee very well. The martinet she was pretending to be would take care of business first. And she wouldn’t take crap from a crewman. “And if you’re drunk again, I’ll bloody leave you!” She roared. The crowd grew silent.

Meeri didn’t turn. Her hands clenched as if she wished they wee around her captain’s throat, then her head drooped. “Yes, Captain.”

Breia glared at them, then spun and stalked out. Cariali’s was a good sized shop, and she ran her eyes over the display. The law had obviously slipped on the station. At least half of what was there in plain sight was illegal. She walked in, looking around.

A Selonian looked up from the sales terminal, walking across. “Greeting Captain.”

“I have a package for your establishment on Taris, but I am not putting up with racist crap.”

“Ah. From Coronet?”

She pretended to be surprised. The Selonians lived on another world in the Corellian system. “Nearby. The Westfall hills.”

“Nice country.” The sales being said. “Let me see.” He took the chip, went to his desk, and fed it into a reader. “I can take it and send it on. However you cannot be paid full price. You do know the rules.”

“Of course I do.” Breia snarled. “Just log it off and as soon as I pick up a cargo, I’m out of here back toward the Core.”

“Perhaps you can carry something for me? I can pay you well for it.”

“How much cubage?”

“300 cubic meters.”

“We only have about 70 free.”

“Carrying part of the consignment would to pay as well of course, but we can negotiate.” The being handed her a pad, and only nightly games of cards against Meeri kept her eyebrows from rising. Whatever it was, it was either highly illegal, or extremely dangerous.

“What is it?”

“Something you need not concern yourself with considering what you are being paid.” He replied.

Illegal then. She pretended to consider. “All right. Have it sent down to bonded storage when you pick up the package from me. My ship is in bay 19.”

They traded thumbprints, his on an invoice accepting delivery, hers on one accepting consignment.

She walked back to the cantina, ducking as a Toydarian slammed into a bulkhead, and slid down it like a slug. Meeri was at the bar, drinking from a tankard, and growling. Then she turned, addressing the crowd. As she did, her arm caught a Dug, flipping the small being across to slam into another place.

“Washing! How many times do you have to scrub a deck to make it clean?” She turned back and forth as if scanning her audience. “Seven times in three days she had me do it. Seven!”

Breia watched, her face cold. Yodai was bouncing across the compartment, and as he reached the bar Meeri snatched him up. “Wha’s this?”

“Put down my pet, you... Freak!” Samsun had leaped to his feet, charging across the compartment. Meeri flicked the small being aside, and met his rush. They bowled across the deck, people dodging out of the way. They knocked Carola off her feet, fetching up against the table Reyes was at. He leaped up, dumping his beer all over them.

There was a slamming sound, and everyone froze. A Human stood at the bar, looking around mildly. In his hands he held a Coruscanti stun blast, a riot control weapon. As big as he was, he didn’t need it. Only a fool would riot when that huge cold face was nearby. The tankard he held was crumpled by the pressure of his arm as he had slammed it down again.

“I will not have fighting on my station.” He said in a surprisingly soft voice. “If you want to fight, take it off the station. Preferably without a suit or ship.” He walked over, stepping over Carola. “What is that?” He jerked a thumb at Yodai, who was leaping back toward Samsun.

“Mandalorian Bat-ear.” Samsun answered.

“Does it have it’s shots?” When he didn’t get an answer, he added, “From the look on your face, I would say no.” He shook his head. “You can pick it up from quarantine when you lift. You and our drunk friend are spending tonight in the cells. as for you.” He glared at Reyes. “You know station rules about liquids on the deck. Accident is one thing, spilling it intentionally is another. Want a fine or the night in the can?”

Reyes said a word. Something in Hutt that meant father of the same mother. The Constable looked at him mildly. “While Hutt are hermaphrodites, they can’t do that. At least not to themselves. So tonight you get to study them in detail. The only space left is with a Hutt.”

He motioned toward the entryway. But before anyone could move, Carola rolled up, and vomited all over the Constable’s uniform. He looked down at her, shaking his head in disgust. “Tonight is definitely not my night. You, linguist. Pick her up.”

Breia stepped aside, watching her compatriots being dragged off to jail. She considered what she had seen. Someone had found out something important, so they had needed to meet. But why was Yodai trying to get into medical? She went to the bar, and bought a drink.

“Seems like a quiet night.”

“Your crewman shouldn’t drink if she can’t handle it.” The barkeep told her. I’ve never seen Ithorians drink half a gallon of sugar-water and still stand.”

“Sugar water?”

“Didn’t you know? It’s like that 151 proof jet-fuel the Echani bottle to Ithorians. Usually they just fall on the floor and sleep it off. Yours got mean drunk instead.” He shook his head. “That’s a first.”

Breia finished her beer, and strolled out. She checked the station map, found the drunk tank, and headed there. A Constable stopped her checking his log.

“Oh, yeah. Those four. Down below in the cells.” He motioned toward a door. “Herman will escort you.” Herman was another human, looking like a troll in the lighting. He grunted, unlocked the door, and led her down a flight of steps.

The cells were dank and dark. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was one of the old dungeons that had been built millennia before on Corellia. All seven were filled with at least three prisoners in each. She passed Reyes who shared a cell with a Hutt and Samsun , then in the next cell was Carola Meeri and a Dug. She crossed her arms, tapping her foot. Meeri looked up, eyes bleary.

“Again.” Breia said.

“Sorry Captain.”

“Got anything to say for yourself?”

Meeri looked at her, one eye dropping in a slow wink. “No excuse.”

“You’ll be scrubbing the head when you get back to the ship.” She warned. “And I’ll take the fine out of your pay.” She turned to Herman. “Keep her overnight. I’ll pay her fine on the way out.”

She paid, marching down the passageway to the tram. Whatever information had prompted the ‘meeting’ hadn’t been passed yet.

She came to the ship, opening the ramp. A4 was waiting her, photoreceptors trained on her.

“Captain, we have an uninvited guest.”

She nodded, following the droid into the cargo compartment. She had gotten this one from a courier captain who had been sick of it. For a while she had wanted to get rid of it herself. When she told it not to do something, or berated it for interrupting, the damn thing would sulk. The sight of a 200 kilo metal and plastic spider moping around because it’s feeling were hurt was a sight you had to see to believe.

The A4 series droids were designed for shipboard use by the Corellian Navy, but had been recalled because of quirks in the programming. The main problem the A4s had was that it downloaded everything in it’s search for knowledge, meaning that it’s main memory core had to be downloaded or cleaned an average of once every other month. Most Naval personnel didn’t like the problem.

There was another problem. The series had a distressing tendency to find ways around problems not suggested by normal procedure. The fact that she found 80% of this A4s suggestions better than the Book hadn’t swayed the navy in the slightest.

Breia on the other hand found it refreshing to have a constant store of information on hand. Instead of wiping the banks periodically, she had instead had a chip writer installed in the damn thing and every time the memory banks got too full, it would download all programs it considered nonessential and stored them in a holder that looked like an egg sac under it‘s rump.

What A4 had retained for constant use was astonishing, suggesting to her that the droid might be self aware. If so it was a first. Except for some self protection software, the machine shouldn’t worry about itself at all.

When it had accessed a prototype B9 Police droid on Station Delta 4 a few years before it had also downloaded all of it‘s defense and offense protocols. That had caused the addition of a stun rod, a Corellian S class rifle with frangible bullets, and a roll of restraint tape. On this mission, it had decided that it could watch the ship for her, and she had agreed more to shut it up than anything else.

The Dug was wrapped like a fly in a spider’s web, and was hanging by a thread of restraint tape from an overhead beam. He glared at her.

“That thing threatened me!” He squealed.

“It did?” She looked at A4. The two front legs of the droid had come up at sharp angles in front of it, and the pedipalps which were actually tool using extensions were clicking together. She should have never told the damn thing about real spiders. It must have downloaded everything in the memory banks about them. The legs and pedipalp movements were right out of a Hook-spider threat reaction. For something big enough to eat you if it were alive, it did look dangerous.

“Maybe it felt you didn’t belong?” She asked. “Well, before I toss you out of the airlock, have you any last words?”

“No!” It shivered, looking past her at the droid.

“Why not? Obviously you came aboard to steal my ship. Where I come from that is a death sentence offense.” She pretended to consider. “However if you told me who sent you and why?”

“No one send.“ He answered. “Cariali’s would buy if I could get it.”

Ah. She left the compartment, coming back with a pot of tea and a chair. She poured, leaning back against the bulkhead. “Then tell me everything you know about Cariali’s business here.” She nodded toward A4. “He has a lie detector built in. The first lie, I warn you, the second?” She jerked a thumb toward the hatchway “You learn to breath vacuum.”

Good reading, as always. ;)

Interesting to see where you're going with A4. Sounds like the droid has become even more beneficial to have around than it was in Republic Dawn.

Does anyone else hear Marvin the Paranoid Android's voice when reading A4's lines?

Good reading, as always. ;)

Interesting to see where you're going with A4. Sounds like the droid has become even more beneficial to have around than it was in Republic Dawn.

We are still in Republic Dawn. This next segment is going to end with the Jedi calling a conference of the GTA and unaligned planets suggesting the formation.

In the two segments ,part one and 2, you will notice a lot of the problems were political. It wasn't until the Jedi discovered the gas was being manufactured that everyone started pulling together. In this one there's going to be problems because action is occurring in unaligned space systems. When the Jedi decide to act, they are going to be berated because GTA has no authority, and none of the core planets do either.

As for A4, I needed a computer that could talk and do a lot of analysis on his own. But as I said in another story, I can;t see having a character I'm not willing to use. Such problems as I had described do happen. I had my computer hung up with no memory for almost a year because a program that saved an emergency back up used almost six gigs of memory just for one file.


Does anyone else hear Marvin the Paranoid Android's voice when reading A4's lines?


If you do, don't be surprised. I was picturing either MArvin or Droopy Dog when I write his dialogue.

Preparation

Master Hontu came out of hyper, and approached the station. Sienna was on watch, hands on the controls. “This is Freighter Coruscant Glory on approach.” She reported.

“Coruscant Glory do you have cargo for this station?“

“Negative. We are just stopping to load additional stores. and some R&R.“

“Very good, Coruscant Glory. You are cleared for bay 40. Welcome to station Kroomerik.”

“Thank you Kroomerik. Coruscant Glory clear.” She tapped the annunciator, and the pilot came forward. “Be ready.” She warned.

Aft Master Hobart and the assault team leaders were gathered around the mess table, looking at the hologram. It showed the station as a series of decks, rotating. One dot blinked red. “All right, the Raptor is here. So far we have no reports that it is getting ready to leave. The limpet transmitter has the ship as inactive.” The hologram jumped in, showing the same type of view of the ship.

“The crew of a Raptor is sixty men. No launch bays, but there are two cargo bays large enough to stash the fighters in.” Sienna looked at the hologram. “Probably they came here to on load some new fighters?”

“Perhaps. But from where?” Padawan Solon asked, his Lekku weaving slightly. “For that matter where did they find the funding? This outfit makes no sense to me.”

There was a grunt of agreement. Most pirates merely took merchant vessels and had extra weapons installed. The Jedi had broken up a ring of such pirates just two years before. But even the most paranoid merchant captain tended to spend the money on weapons rather than fighters. At over 10 thousand credits each, they were a great defense, but too expensive. Only the larger lines had tried it before now.

Even as old as it was, the ship was still formidable. Fast enough to chase down most modern freighters, though slower than the newer light ones. Her weapons and systems could easily be upgraded.

But only a madman would use a warship as a pirate. You couldn’t sidle up to a station pretending to be a merchant, and loading up on fighter missiles and large amounts of chain gun ammunition through a civilian outlet rather than a base of your navy would be a give away. It was actually less expensive to arm a merchant ship than it was to rip the weapons out of even the smallest warship. Even then why pay for something with almost no cargo space?

Ships the size of a Raptor rarely ended up on the open market unless you consider transferring them from one planetary government fleet to another. New they cost just under a million credits each. The only other possible buyer would be a corporation. Only corporations had the wherewithal to buy them at a quarter million credits each. But that begged the question of why a corporate vessel would be here. According to their records of Wayfarer Corporation, the owners of the station, hadn’t bought any ships of that design. They had bought Coruscanti Swift Class corvettes. In fact only three of the smaller Colonial navies used Raptors right now. None had been reported missing.

Besides, sale of castoff warships was tightly regulated. No one had found a way around those safeguards. Until now.

“How many of this class were built?” Hobart asked.

“Sixty-four.” Padawan Learner Coroy replied. An Arkanian, he was the resident expert on military ordinance. “All but seven are still in service. Nineteen serve in the Arkanian Navy, twenty serve in the Alderaani Customs and patrol service. Ten, all under Corporate flags are assigned to the Ando blockade squadron, the last eight make up the entire Lortuai home fleet.”

“What happened to the seven no longer in service?” Sienna asked, staring at the bulkhead with a curious expression.

“One was lost at the battle of Sullust about 30 years ago. One was rammed by a liner and scrapped. One was expended as target by the Corellian navy, four decommissioned and scrapped.”

“Are we sure they were actually scrapped?” She pressed.

“According to records, yes.” Coroy said.

“My family is always leery of the breaker’s yard.” She said. As the youngest daughter of Admiral Mara Dodonna, granddaughter of retired Fleet Admiral Freido Dodonna, with more officers in her family than any other family on Corellia could claim, she was the expert in this. “The only thing worse in their minds are the suppliers. You see, If they merely slag it down all they get is the scrap metal price. About 500 credits a ton. But if they strip it out, they get a lot more for the separate systems. The computers are easy to wipe and reuse, commo gear and control molycircs, all worth more as units rather than being recycled. A colony just starting would be well off if they could score some of that.” She considered. “The only thing they couldn’t just put on market is the weapons. There are four chain gun turrets four launch tubes. Worth a pretty good amount. But they have to sell them back to the navy, or to someone the navy has authorized to purchase them.

“Every BuShips’ officer’s nightmare is that a ship will slide through the yards without being scrapped out. The ship may be almost 50 years old, but that doesn’t make them worthless for their designed function. A pirate could take over an out of the way colony with that much firepower.” She nodded. “I’m just trying to think who I should contact? Papa or Mama.” Her father was the Judge Advocate General of the fleet, her Mother in charge of design and construction for BuShips.

“Let’s either find out which ship it is, or capture it first.” Hobart demurred. “No reason to get Corellia all upset until we do.” He nibbled on his lip pensively.

“There’s another problem.” Solon said. “I asked for a download of the Station laws. I wanted to be sure our warrant from Corellia was valid.” He looked up. “It is not.”

“What?” Hobart looked as if he’d been told gravity didn’t exist.

“The Station legal preamble begins with ‘Local legal situations are covered in Corporate regulations. All other laws superceded‘.” He turned the pad, and let them read it. Hobart flipped down several pages. “ Listen to this. ‘All claims by planets regarding the seizure of a ship or crew for crimes committed outside Corporate jurisdiction must be first cleared through the Station Constabulary office, and local justice before action. All such requests and the hearings for service of such warrants must be publicly delivered. No warrants maybe served, or action taken for them, until the hearing has been held‘.”

Sienna's head bent. She was the legal expert. “Which means that all I would have to do as captain of that bloody Raptor is have a man in either the Constabulary or the Justice’s office. As soon as they know such a warrant has been filed, they can bolt away, leaving us sitting while the hearing drags on.” She looked at him. “Or we could send a message torpedo. Have a Corellian frigate pop up to take possession.”

Hobart, who had been paging down shook his head. “The Corporation has assigned two Swifts here, Rapid and Surprise. Both in are in their docking bays. If a Corellian Frigate were to arrive, according to these regulations, the Corporation has permission to order the ship out of the system if they will not obey Corporate regulations. Let’s see, yes, as I thought; ‘Any attempt to either force ships to remain on the station, or stop other ships from using the station will be considered an illegal blockade; an act of war under Interstellar law, by the planet owning the vessel. Any attempts by such vessels to remain after being ordered to depart can be dealt with as the Manager and/or Captains of such defensive vessels see fit’.” He looked at his strike team.

“We must either obey the letter of this regulation, or we have to convince them to leave the station and go somewhere we can take them.”

“But they would know we must have followed them if we suddenly ask for their arrest here!” Coroy retorted. “The limpet transmitter may have LPI capability, but if they know we followed them, they will find it.” The Low Probability of Intercept communications gear was still considered top secret by the Corellian navy. They had been allowed to use it only because Sienna had asked her parents.

“If they think they’re caught, they’ll self destruct.” Sienna pushed. “We haven’t gotten more than serial numbers off the fighters so far. To break this, we need to capture it. Facing them here, we’ll have a chance. But an aware Escort trying to escape will hand us our heads. We have to take her here or let her go. We don’t have another option I can see.”

Hobart brought up the information on the ship again. “Sixty man crew. All together we’re outnumbered by about four to one.” He commented. “We can win, but they will self destruct and we can't risk the station and it‘s personnel. We can wait until they pull out-”

“I have another idea.” Sienna said. “We take them down while still here, and deliver ship and all back to Corellia.”

“And how do we do that?” Coroy asked.

“I just walk aboard, trip the intruder/mutiny system, and we fly her out.”

“Can’t be done.” Solon said. “My men don’t know where the intruder systems are on that ship!”

“I do. Mama commanded one of the last ones built, and I... accidentally activated it one Fleet Week when I was four.”

“Accidentally.” Hobart’s comment wasn’t a question.

She grinned. “I saw this big red button on the command chair, and pushed it. Next thing I know every blast door was sealed, and everyone is getting hit with puke-gas. I might have gotten off on it but when we were in the engine room, I saw another emergency button and hit it too!” She shook her head. “Boy did I get a spanking for that!”

They chuckled. “What if they have something a little more lethal than that?” Solon asked.

“I think if someone had run off with half a ton of CN20 nerve gas, that would have set off alarms.” She retorted.

“Lay out your plan, for us.” Hobart ordered. She began with getting aboard, walked through what she intended to do, and ended with lifting off. Each of the others gave suggestions, and she incorporated some of them into the plan. But she was adamant that she had to go alone.

“One mere slip of a girl who is space crazy getting aboard might be taken for a lark.” She warned. “But two or even three would look too suspicious.”

“I would rather someone else do this.” Hobart commented when she had finished.

“No one of our people on the station or aboard ship looks as helpless as I do.“ She replied. “Besides, have I ever been wrong before?”

“No, but there is always a first time.”

“If you honestly think I can’t handle it master-”

“Will you stop fishing for compliments?” He asked plaintively. “All right. When do you want to do it?”

“I was hoping to borrow Padawan Solo’s A4. After I have talked to her, I can set a specific time.”

So. Set off the mutiny/intruder system and gas any crew that is aboard? I hope Sienna has a gas mask or utilizes the Jedi-ability to hold her breath for a long time. If you haven't guessed I'm not clear on how the plan will work but I'm sure you will clear things up for me in the next chapter. :D Please don't interpret this as I don't like the story or anything along those lines. Republic Dawn is still great reading.

I had considered that, CM. But there's more here than meets the eye...

The operational report

Breia was just closing the ramp when a sweet honey voice asked in a breathless tone. “Oh! Is that a Shadow?”

She turned. Sienna Dodonna stood there. She was dressed in her best outfit, at least for this assignment. It was a snug fitting vermilion top with two diamond shaped cut outs. One started at her shoulders, running down to about ten millimeters below her breasts, the other started there, running down to connect at her hips showing an expanse of well toned flesh. There was no reason for the full sleeves she could see except to accentuate what was exposed. The bottom was so small she looked as if she had merely forgotten to put on her clothes, going about in her foundation garments.

To give lip service to propriety, a cinnamon red skirt of smoke-cloth ran to her ankles. But since smoke cloth as the name implies, is almost transparent, it only obscured the knee-high boots she wore.

Breia grunted. “Of course it’s a Shadow.”

“Could I see... Inside it?” She asked. If you went by her face and that voice, you’d think she didn’t have two brain cells in that blonde head.

Breia gave a much put upon sigh, and opened the ramp again, motioning the girl up it with an exasperated grimace. Sienna didn’t walk up the ramp, she strutted. Any man watching her from the back would have been captivated by the walk. Only Breia caught the slight wink. She sighed again, looked at her chrono as if to say I don’t have time for this and followed.

“Greetings, Padawan teacher.” Sienna dropped the act the instant the ramp came back up. Now she merely looked like an intense woman with odd taste in proper apparel.

“You know that is really quite good. The vacant expression suits you.”

“Sorry.” Sienna was not in the least apologetic. “When you look like a working man’s dream of a blonde air-headed bimbo, it helps to pretend.” She held out a chip. “If I can borrow your A4, we’ve already got a plan to take the Raptor."

“Hobart does know we can’t legally.” Breia stated.

“Yes. We’ve decided that perhaps an act of piracy is called for.”

Breia considered, then nodded. “I can see why that is an option. But what about the Cariali warehouse?”

“What?”

Breia waved her over to the mess table. “A4, play the recordings.”

The droid marched over, and a holo of a case appeared. Then the camera angle split into ten different pictures. Before asked, it began bringing them up as full screens when they passed something of importance. “The crate was picked up yesterday, delivered to the bonded warehouse, then accepted by the local Cariali factor. He had it sent to his own storage warehouse. If you will notice-” Two of the screens blew up to almost full size.

Sienna leaned forward intently. ‘Those crates. They look like... Corellian arms cases.”

“Correct.” The cameras zoomed in. The barcodes were scanned, and a third screen flashed up.

“Merr Sohn Type 7s.” Breia commented. “In that one Type 14B fighter missiles. They can be fitted to just about any fighter Corellia ever built with a little adjustment. Keep going.”

The screens showed a mass of weapons that should never have left a Military arsenal. Missiles both ship to ship and fighter launched. hand weapons from pistols to tripod mounted cannon. While a lot was Corellian the rest were Coruscanti and Twi-lek.

The crate was dropped off, and the small bugs deployed their miniature tilt rotor wings, and split up. One landed on a computer console, cutting a tiny hole to climb inside. It found a data port, and melted a connection onto the fiber optic lead.

“I ran the programs aboard. The inventory is extensive. Including these.” Eight Bat class Coruscanti fighters.

Sienna hissed. “Those haven’t even entered squadron service!”

“Well I know it.” Breia motioned to the teapot, and Sienna nodded. She took the cup, sipping. Her eyes bulged. “My gods! Echani fire spice!”

“Yes. I enjoy it.”

“I can’t even drink it aboard the ship!” Sienna sipped, sighing. “Master Hobart was injured a year ago, right before I became his apprentice. His stomach can’t stand it any more, even though he likes it. So I won’t drink in around him out of sympathy.” She sipped, looking pensively at the screens. “So a corporate chain is also part of this?”

“Maybe. It might be they were supplying illegal weapons before, and we didn’t notice it until we checked their operations here.”

Sienna shook her head. “Too many similarities between the operations for that to be likely. Both with access to either restricted equipment or high end modern ordinance. Can there really be two operations this well connected and this secret?”

“Stranger things have happened.” Breia warned. “So how does this affect your plan for the Raptor?”

“We have no choice.” Sienna said softly. “As bad as this is, we can’t let that ship leave and continue slaughtering people.” She shook herself. “Perhaps you can handle the Cariali situation on your own.”

“I think not.” Breia retorted. “This is too big, and goes too deep.” She considered. “The cargo they have consigned to my ship is due later today. Perhaps I can deliver it, and find out more.”

Sienna nodded. “I will inform Master Hobart. Then, I think I will meet the other Padawan. Where will you all be?”

“The Stars end Cantina.”

“I will see you all there later this evening. I have other ships to look at.” She put on that brainless look again. “Did you know there’s a Twi-lek Soorbino on the station?” She gushed.

“Spare me.” Breia snapped. then they both began laughing.

*****
The cargo arrived, and Breia noted the contents as it was loaded aboard. The crew that did the loading were the usual disreputable types you might have expected. She thumb-printed the invoice after checking the cubage, then went aboard, sealing the ramp.

“A4, what did we just accept?”

“Only one crate is alarming.” The droid flashed up the barcode.

Breia looked, her mind tried to scan the code, but it didn’t register. “841 prefix, I haven’t seen it before.”

“I have.” A4 replied laconically. “That is a bioweapon prefix.”

“Any idea what?”

“Iridian plague.” She glared at the droid. “The Corellian military did studies about ten years ago of converting the plague into an easily spread form. They abandoned the tests. There was no cure for the variety they created.”

Breia cursed. “This changes things.”

“On the contrary, Padawan, it helps.” A4 drawled. On the screen, a series of crates were earmarked to be loaded. She saw her own face, and ship, then the destination.

“Ando?” Breia asked.

“The home of a race named the Aqualish.” A4 reported. “To be delivered not ot the planet, but to the fleet blockading it. Your cargo includes the weapon you are both speaking of.”

“So we deliver a deadly...” She froze. “Come quick!”

She raced back, reaching with that skill she had used on Delta station.

There was no timer. Instead a sensor that would have detected two hyper transits, one entering, and one leaving had been attached to the tank. If she had left the station, it would have automatically activated. She ran her hands over the seals. Simple customs seals. Since they didn’t have to be unloaded until delivery... She drew out a small knife. Made by a Jedi smith, it sheared through the customs seals. Then she stopped, running her hands over the crate looking just a little deeper...

Light sensitive diode right there. Any light at all would set off an explosive charge destroying the case and the one opening it. Not to mention killing everyone aboard with the plague. “A4, get the lights.”

The lights went off, but there was still a spill from the passageway. “Close the hatch as well.”

Suddenly it was pitch black. She pulled the top off of the box, running her hand blindly along the wires leading from it to the explosive charge, her Jedi senses identifying what her fingers touched. Five wires. This leads to the auto-release. Cut it and the bug is released in here. This one leads to... Ah, a trap wire. Cut it and the charge gets a shock from the capacitor on the other end. This one, leads no where. This one has a trickle charge. cut it and the capacitor flashes. This one. She started reaching down, then stopped. She stepped to the other end of the box. Only three wires led to it, the primary, the booby trap, and another one running to another booby trap. She instead cut the capacitor loose, dropping it on the deck. Then she went forward, removing the light sensitive diode. She was holding it up when suddenly the bay was brightly lit.

She cursed, spinning to face the hatch. Meeri looked at her confused.
“If you had been three seconds earlier...” Her hands began to shake. So close...

Meeri looked at the device then Breia’s hands, and walked over slipping the blade out of her hand. “Perhaps it would be better for me to work, and you direct me. At least until your shaking subsides.”

Breia gave a barkr of laughter. A panic reaction. “Yes. An excellent idea.”

They worked together for almost half an hour. When every timer, activator, explosive and booby trap had been removed, they went into the mess hall. Meeri silently poured her a Corellian Red, pouring another for herself.

“Wait a minute. I thought you got drunk on Sugar water!”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Meeri asked with such an innocent expression that Breia had to laugh.

“From you, you misshapen lump!”

“Oh that.” Meeri waved a hand. “When we first met your people, some of them tried to get us drunk. But our tolerance for alcohol is very high. An Ithorian merely gets more calm when we drink. About five times what a human could drink. When we get what you would call drunk, we just fall asleep.” She chugged the brew, and opened another. “So when we figured out what the people were trying to do, get us drunk so they could get us to sign deals, that kind of thing, we let one of them see one of our people chugging sugar water, then acting how humans act when drunk.

“It helps to know it, because if someone buys us a drink and we taste it, we know immediately how honest they are. If they asked us of course, we accept it to be polite.”

“And what effect does sugar water actually have on you?”

“Actually it give us the runs.” Meeri waved. “But it is worth it to get some deals signed that we needed.”

Breia looked at her hand. It was still trembling. “I drink, if you notice, to be polite, companionable, and...” She lifted her hand, watching it shimmy. “When I am scared out of my tiny little mind.”

“Considering what is in that crate...” Breia shivered. All that medical science could do for the Iridian plague was either preventive, or palliative. If it was known to be in a population, you immediately dosed everyone who wasn’t showing frank symptoms and hope for the best. If they did show symptoms, you tried to keep them alive. With no medial assistance, there was a 100% fatality rate. With it, the death toll was only 85%. But once it was released, no one in their right mind-

Not to the planet, but to the fleet blockading it.

Iridian plague had a long incubation period. It took as much as a month for frank symptoms to occur, but it was already infectious by inhalation less than a week after infection. The ships communicated by radio of course, but they had weekly meetings of the commanders...

And a week after I deliver this, they are all infected. Three weeks later, so are all of the ships that delivered supplies. So are the ports of the planets they came from.

Once it broke out, each of those planets would go under full quarantine, along with the stations that served them How far would it go before someone fell ill and they noticed? The entire core, hell, every system a ship serviced could be infected!

Meanwhile no one can spare the energy to help the fleet. They die. No one is watching the Aqualish... This is bad.[/i]

“We’ll have to go to the Cantina We have to make sure the others know.”

“Can I avoid going to jail again?” Meeri asked plaintively. “Have you ever had the runs in a cell with two other people?”

“I try to avoid being in jail, myself.” Breia replied calmly. “Maybe you should follow my sterling example.”

Meeri’s answer was subvocal.

Very interesting. As you said, developments have forced the Jedi to alter their initial plans. Well, at least I think they've been altered anyway. If the opposition has access to such advanced weaponry as well as highly effective bio-weapons, one should absolutely take those factors into account when forming a plan to neutralize one's enemy.

I always enjoy the high level of technical detail you employ in your writing. I don't always understand it, depending on the type of issue, but I appreciate the effort taken to give the story that added level of realism.

I always enjoy the high level of technical detail you employ in your writing. I don't always understand it, depending on the type of issue, but I appreciate the effort taken to give the story that added level of realism.

CM, As an old writer said 'I write for me'. Meaning the first reader who has to enjoy it and not lose his suspension of disbelief is me. I am what my wife and my old friends at fair would call a research slut. I spent two weeks researching chemical weapons in High school for an 8 page report. I only got a C+ because he didn't like my argument on the morality of them;
(If someone has them, a general on that side has already decided how to use them. Just give him the chance.)

I read Everything except romances and westerns and I retain a lot of it. So when I write something like that disarming sequence, I reach into that part of my mind that remembers EOD (Explosive Ordinance Detail) and built the nastiest bomb I could imaging disarming. I even drew a small line mock-up of it.

Oh yeah, when I used to DM in D&D? They feared my traps more than anything else.

Cutting out operation

Breia and Meeri entered the Stars end. For a moment the noise ebbed, then picked back up again. A Toydarian near the bar saw them and ducked for cover. A party of Dugs also at the bar suddenly decided they wanted a booth. Preferably a distance from the hulking Ithorian.

“You seem to have made a lasting impression.” Breia whispered leading the way.” She reached the bar, tapping a coin on it. “Two Corellian Reds.”

The bartender relaxed, and pulled the brews, passing them across. Breia leaned nonchalantly against the bar, sipping. “It looks like we’re here first.”

“No.“ Meeri sipped. “Left hand corner table.”

Sienna was already here. If the outfit she had worn earlier was rather risquй, this one bordered on sultry. The red was gone. Instead she wore a sheath of blue spider-silk that hugged her so tightly she might as well not have bothered. Breia looked away.

“She reminds me of someone.”

“Her grandfather is Admiral Dodonna.”

“No.” Breia tapped her fingers against her head. “It’s how my mother used to dress. Back before I was born.”

“Your mother was a professional pleasure girl?”

Breia glared at her. “No. She works for Corellian Intelligence. She used to dress that way...” Breia looked at the girl with a new respect. “To distract people while she worked.”

“Are you’re sure you’re not related?”

Before Breia could answer she saw Samsun stroll in behind him on a leash came Yodai. Breia lifted her glass quickly, pretending to drink to cover the fact that she wanted to roar with laughter. Proper prim Yodai on a leash! Samsun unclipped the leash, roughly rubbing Yodai’s head. “Now behave this time.” He admonished. He moved to an empty table, waving at the bartender.

Yodai looked around owlishly, then scampered across the room, climbing Breia’s legs. She yelped as he hugged her around the waist.

“Don’t get too into the part, Yodai.” She whispered. She felt his fingers pluck the data chip from her belt, and the insertion of a fresh one.

“Him on a leash I will see.” Yodai grumbled. Then he climbed farther up, snatching nuts from a bowl. “Enjoying this too much he is.”

“Yodai!” The small being looked. Samsun was waving. Grumbling dire retribution under his breath, Yodai leaped down and ran over to climb the young Padawan, ‘accidentally’ digging in with his claws a little when he reached Samsun’s ribs.

Reyes arrived next, trailed by his Padawan Kriel. Kriel was a Twi-lek, his red lekku weaving slightly as they sensed the atmosphere. A female Twi-lek at the bar blushed furiously, turning away. But she kept glancing his way.

“Ah, young love.” Meeri said. “A pity we are not on the station for too much longer. That would be an interesting story to hear.”

Caroli came in. A few moments later, a young man with a shock of ginger hair came running in, joining her at the table. Breia had not yet met Padawan Learner Costi. He was new, having transferred from the Monastery on Ossus. He looked a bit uncomfortable with a blaster low-slung on his left hip.

Breia took out her pad, and slipped in the chip Yodai had delivered. They had also been commissioned to deliver some of the Cariali supplies. The crate had been expertly opened and sealed. Hand weapons and breather masks. She downloaded the information, then dropped the chip in her drink where it promptly dissolved.

“No change on Yodai’s end.” She whispered.

“Good changes enough just with us and Sienna.” Meeri murmured in reply. She held up her empty glass, and another round was delivered.

Yodai who had been pretending to be asleep dropped to the floor, scuttling toward Caroli. She cursed, setting him on the table, where Costi tried to tempt him with pretzels. Yodai deigned to accept for a moment, then at a cluck from Samsun, scurried back.

Breia finished her second ale, watching the byplay with interest. Unbeknownst to the patrons, the little Jedi was assuring that everyone was on the same page. He had carried Breia’s report to Samsun who had downloaded it for himself and a copy which was delivered to each. Reyes cursed when he attacked his bowl of nuts but didn’t strike at him, which would have been in character.

The final act was funny. A human in a shipsuit was across the way, trying to drink Sienna under the table. Not much chance of that. The Jedi training helped her to metabolize the alcohol faster than he might have considered possible. Yodai came gallumphing over, scurried up onto the table, and proceeded to attack the bowl of nuts there. The man cursed, waving a drunken hand at the small being, who squealed as if terrified, leaping to wrap his arms around Sienna’s neck.

“Oh how adorable!” She gushed, hugging and petting him. Yodai didn’t move away quickly. If anything he seemed to settle in closer, eyes still on the drunk. Sienna asked the annunciator at her table a question, and a bowl of milk arrived. Breia turned rapidly, coughing to hide even more laughter. She knew how Yodai felt about milk! Yet he got down and lifted the bowl draining it.

A few moments later he ran back to Samsun. The Padawan slipped the ship into his reader, made a few notes. Then he lowered the pad to the table. Under the cover of draining his mug, he popped out four chips, setting them aside. Then he stood, walking toward the bar. Behind him, Yodai had swept up the chips, and delivered them to each in turn.

“You again.” Reyes snarled at Meeri. “Staying off the sugar water tonight?”

“As I have instructed her.” Breia snapped. Reyes turned toward her, eyes cold. “It’s thanks to her I spent last night in jail instead of enjoying myself.” He poked her hard in the chest with a finger. As he did the chip fell into Breia’s waiting hand. “I have to be in the Ando system in three days, and I will not be detained again. So keep her away from me!”

He spun, storming out.

“I don’t think he likes you.” Breia said.

“I don’t like him either.” Meeri finished the ale. “Shall we get back aboard?”

They left just as Sienna was waxing lyrical about how adorable Yodai was again.
*****

Breia poured the tea, and flipped on the pad as soon as they were back aboard. “Each of us were asked to carry cargo. by Cariali. Reyes and Yodai are carrying about ninety cubic feet each. Caroli has about twenty-five and...“ She laughed. “The same box we unloaded on Cariali. No major changes. Sienna thinks she will need at least people to help, and that is... Yodai and I.” She leaned back, sipping. She suddenly saw herself in Sienna’s idea of proper clothes, and choked.

“What are we going to do about our guest?” Meeri waved toward the cargo bay where the Dug that had tried to hotwire the ship still hung.

“We’ll dump him loaded to the gills in the morning.” Breia said. “Unless you have another idea?”

“He gave us a lot of information. Perhaps if we convince him of who we really are, he’ll get... nervous and ask for sanctuary?”

“You are always so... forceful.” Breia replied. She reached into a cabinet, drawing out her sword. “Shall we practice in front of him you think?”

“In front of and around.” Meeri replied. She drew out her own blades.

Together they walked back to the cargo bay. The Dug froze as he saw the sheathed weapons they carried. He had been digging at the plastic that bound him, but it was rated at 40 tons per inch and required special tools to cut.

Meeri lowered him, then moved him to the center of the bay, hanging about chest height for Breia, meaning even with Meeri’s shoulders. They set the weapons aside, drawing out practice weapons instead. Meeri used twin blades, and Breia matched her with her long pommeled single. They faced each other, saluting with the blades.

“What are you-” The Dug yelped, trying to pull his head in as three blades flashed. Meeri was abysmal on the attack. She had her race’s reticence about fighting. But on the defense she was a master. In the first actual fight they had ever been in, seven men had attacked them armed with swords. Breia had dealt with three of them easily, then turned to find that Meeri had not only defended herself brilliantly, but had kept the other three busy with a dazzling array of parries. The one man that had been killed before Breia joined her she admitted had been killed by one of his fellows. The practice drill had been ingrained into both of them since childhood. The Dug was merely a small space they didn’t allow their blades to enter.

To the Dug it was a flashing nightmare of steel and sudden death whipping past his head. The pair were silent, focusing on what they were about. If anything the speed increased, and he realized that no normal human could have kept it up.
Suddenly he fell. One cut had sliced through the spider-web that had held him up. He landed on his head with a squawk, and rolled into a fetal position.

There was silence, and he opened his eyes. A blade flashed less than a centimeter from his muzzle. Not the practice blade, but the wavy-edged sword of a Jedi.

“You thought you could steal a Jedi ship?” Breia asked. She turned her wrist side to side, a flash of light passing back and forth across the pupils of the Dug’s eyes. “You know that is defined as piracy.” She knelt, the blade not moving. “I could turn you over to the local authorities.” She felt his mood brighten. “Or space you when I leave. I don’t really trust the local constabulary. Is there a reason I should?”

“Didn’t know you were Jedi.” The Dug grunted. “Mistake.”

“A very stupid mistake.“ Breia agreed. “A last one. Of course I could help you by telling the Constabulary how very helpful you have been in our investigations here. Knowing you are really a fine upstanding citizen will make your life so much more pleasant.”

The Dug paled. Sure, it would make his life more pleasant. Until it ended rather abruptly, painfully, and probably not quickly knowing his luck. “Maybe we can talk?” He asked plaintively.

“Why? I got all I wanted to know from you. The local Cariali broker is paying people to hijack any armed vessel they can.”

“But where they taking them?” He asked, a glint in his eyes. “What they use them for?”

“You wouldn’t have been told that.”

“Not told.” He admitted. “But if you listen, you learn things, yes? Been working a long time. Know everything about a lot of things in different places. Learned this by being quiet. Unobtrusive.”

“So talk to me.” Meeri activated the recorder, and they listened as the Dug talked for almost an hour.

“So they have taken over this planet Thule. Why has no one noticed?”

“People who run communications same people. Company helped them.”

“Why?” Meeri asked.

“Deniability. Evil done, people die, war begins. When discovered, Company throws up hands in horror. ‘Evil men steal from us! Do all this! Shocking‘!” He shrug. “Know more about a lot of places yet.” He repeated.

“There is probably more, but we don’t have the time now.” Breia looked at the Dug. “Once we’ve left the station, we will take you to Corellia. I think Corellian intelligence will want to have long discussions with you. When they’re done, I will forgive your little transgression. But I won‘t forget it.”

There was a bleep from the annunciator. “Padawan, we have a visitor.” A4 reported.

Breia sheathed her weapon. “Local or one of ours?”

“A local delivery man from the Promenade. He is carrying what looks like a box from Kimberly's.”

Breia and Meeri shared a look. Kimberly's was a Corellian clothiers. The place where Senators went to buy their mistresses clothes that would get them arrested if the wore it in public.

The man looked like he might be the manager of the store. He was almost jumping up and down with excitement when she lowered the ramp. “Miss Magulagi? I am Justo Forek of Kimberly’s. A miss Dorino bought a dress to be delivered to you.” He held it out. “The message reads, ‘in thanks for your hospitality earlier today.”

Breia took the box carefully. “It’s Captain Magulagi.” She looked at the box. “Who is this... Dorino woman?”

“She said you might not recognize the name.” He replied. “She is the scion of a noble house on Corellia, travelling while on vacation from her school. She saw your ship and you gave her a tour this morning.”

“Oh, her.” Breia looked uncomfortable. “I’ll have to thank her.”

“No need, no need.” He said. “The instructions are in the box with the clothing. I hope you consider us for future purchases.” The last statement was given only pro forma. He had obviously figured that the captain of an old Courier couldn’t possibly afford something else from his shop.

Breia watched him go, then whispered. “Instructions? How hard is it to put on a dress?” She went up the ramp, closing the hatch again. Meeri was in the mess hall when she arrived, and she opened the box. “Oh she has got to be- Meeri! Laughing about this is not- Oh I am going to kill her!”

*****

It was a sight that attracted very male eye. Two women, one with raven black hair, the other blonde. The blonde was carrying some kind of animal that clung to her, risking exposure of her assets when it swung aside to try to grab at things they passed. The other followed by a large spider like droid. But if anyone had asked, they wouldn’t have noticed the droid. The animal at least was trying to do what every man that saw them dreamed or. Unwrapping one of them like a kid at his birthday party.

Their clothes drew the eyes. The dresses were the same in every way but color. A top made of a mass of straps that obviously took some effort to put on, and probably as much to take off with long sleeves mandarin collars, a gap in the cloth that exposed smooth stomachs and attached to hip hugging briefs above thigh high boots. The Blonde was in a deep burgundy that set off her pale skin, the dark haired one in a lime green that made her eyes seem even more green then they were.

Either one would have been worth the attention, but together they should have been charged with incitement to riot.

“I am going to kill you.” Breia growled for perhaps the tenth time since they had begun the approach. “I am going to feed you to a Landrian sand shark. I’m going to find something nasty to have you for dinner.”

“Well we could start with my Uncle Peri if we want nasty things to have you for dinner. The only reason I am safe is because he knows I’m his niece. Though if I were one generation farther away all bets would be off.” Sienna said. “Smile, girl! You’re beautiful, in an outfit that cost more than most of these people have made in a year-”

“With every man knowing exactly my bust size, the size of my nipples and whether I sunbath in the nude.” Breia snapped back. “Back home my dad would have fits!”

“Ah Darshan Solo is so repressed isn’t he.” Sienna replied gaily. “But your mother Holani...”

“What about my mother?”

Sienna looked around, then leaned forward, her finger motioning toward a group admirers that immediately began straightening. The portrait of a cute girl whispering a secret to her friend. “Well the last time I saw your mother at a state occasion, she was dressed in something that would have embarrassed me!” She shook her head, meeting Breia’s fulminating gaze. “All I have to say about your mother is that at sixty or so she is still an exceedingly attractive woman. She had the Bothan Ambassador eating out of her hand!”

“Sixty-two.” Breia bit out. “And yes she is still attractive.” Hating the girl was as useful as trying to bottle the wind. Considering how to gain revenge however...

“Come on. Look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Sienna whispered. “Think happy thoughts!”

Breia pictured her head down in a vat of Chocolate ice cream. Those smooth toned legs kicking futilely as she drowned...

“That’s more like it.”

They passed docking bay 17 where Hawk Flight was preparing to launch. Meeri had her instructions. Then ahead of them was bay 19. Sienna turned in, Breia pacing her.

Up close the Escort was huge. At least ten times the mass of her own ship. Almost as big as the Master Hontu. Sienna cooed as if she thought she could stroke the ship, and have it roll over like a pet. “Oh, isn’t this a Raptor?” She gushed. She strode toward the hatch. It was open, and a grungy little human looked up at their approach. He stiffened, then was frantically wiping his hands and trying to get his hair to lay down.

“Oh I’ve never seen the inside of a Raptor before!” If anything her brainless act was even better than before. “May I please look around?” She put on a plaintive expression. Men who saw that look outside a jewelry store would have been getting out their charge cards before the first coo had died.

The man growled inwardly. The captain would skin him if he let a couple of bints on the ship. “We’re getting ready to depart, unfortunately.”

“Oh that’s good!” Sienna gushed, then she leaned forward. “You intended to take us with you.”

The man’s eyes glazed. “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for you.” He said.

“Any you have just the place for us to hide.” Sienna said. “Just forward of engineering.”

“There’s a cabinet just forward of engineering you can hide in.”

“So what are we waiting for?”

“Let’s hurry. What are you waiting for?” He asked.

“But we have to get there without passing a security camera, don’t we.”

“Yeah, no cameras.” He turned, walking aft with the women and droid following.

“That’s a pretty neat trick.” Breia whispered. “How does it work?”

“How does the ripping droid’s arms off work?” Sienna asked in the same tone.

“When we have time I will show you. If...”

“I teach you how to control the weak minded?” Sienna grinned. “If it’s a man they are all weak, honey.”

The cabinet was large enough for all of them to hide in. The guard went back to his station. There was a hooting, then a voice spoke.

“Devaronian.” Breia identified the language. “Most of those we have gotten dead were Devaronian.”

“Yes. I wonder why?” Sienna asked.

“Someone forcing them they are.” Yodai had dropped his act as well. “The most peaceful race they are not. But wanton slaughter not their way.”

The ship shuddered, and Breia mentally pictured it lifting off from the pad, sliding out into space. The engines went to a smooth roar, and Breia said. “Now.”

They came out of the cabinet, moving swiftly aft. The hatch opened, and Breia took one step, and a tanned firm leg shot out kicking the Devaronian that spun at their approach in the crotch. As he whimpered dropping to his knees she punched him in the neck even with the fourth vertebrae, dropping him like a stunned Nerf.

Yodai leaped from Sienna’s arms, racing to a console. He checked the readout. “Good thing our own gas we brought.” He muttered. “Nerve gas they did use!”

A4 trundled over, panels opening for and aft. Breia snatched out the bundle of swords as Yodai opened a high pressure air line. A4 thrust out a nozzle, and Yodai pushed the bayonet fitting into it.

The tank inside the stomach of the droid vented as they slipped air breathers into their mouths, clipping the nostril plugs then Breia handed the others their weapons. She stayed in position as the other two charged forward.

“Go help them.” Breia ordered. A4 finished venting the tank, sealing up it’s carapace again, then took off down the passageway. As it came to people that had been disabled by the gas, it wrapped each in meters of plastic, setting them out of the way as it continued on.

*****

The bridge hatch opened, and Sienna was in like an exploding bomb. The only compartments not covered by the mutiny system were the bridge, engineering and the armory, though each could be added by the flick of a switch. The problem was, that the gas was fast acting, but not instantaneous. That meant anyone on the bridge would have at least ten seconds before they fell over. Long enough to blow the ship up.

Sienna leaped across the expanse, her sword punching into and through the console the Captain was trying to access. Then she whipped the sword aside, slashing the back of the right wrist only deep enough to bleed. “No escape for you, my friend.” She said. Then she punched him, dropping the captain unconscious.

*****

“What the?” The Armorer looked up from his bench as the gas alarm went off. He snatched up an air mask, blowing his lungs clear into it to clear the possibility of gas, then took a deep breath. Something was coming toward him, and he spun, tracking. Wasn’t that the animal from the Can-

A foot caught him under the heart with all of Yodai’s weight behind it. His hand caught the air mask in the same motion, so that the sudden venting of the armorer’s lungs only made him breath more deeply. The man glared at the little figure balefully as he collapsed.

“For an animal not bad, eh?”

On the station, five ships began to depart. First was Hawk Flight, followed by Master Hontu, then Padawan Sani of Naboo then in tandem Master Gretu of Triseki, and Padawan Yaka of Ithor.

Ahead of them, the Raptor vanished into hyper space.

*****

The captain could feel himself swaying and spinning below the air return vent. His head felt like he’d laid down in front of a stampede. Some girl Dressed like she got paid for it, and paid damn well. She-

His eyes snapped open. The entire crew hung up here like a load of Nerf sides. All of them had a glazed look. Below him he heard a clicking, and he froze as a huge spider came into view. It looked like it might be a droid, but it if was it had become insane. The pedipalps were rubbing together, and it stopped.

Looking at him.

The spider set a leg against the bulkhead, then swarmed up as if it were level. The set of forelegs curled around him, then he was being carried down. He had heard of Space-feeders, spider like creatures that boarded ships. But he’d always thought they were a space story! The stories of ships found drifting, the crews hanging in enormous webs, drained of all fluids.

The spider reached the deck, transitioning from straight up to level without a pause. It carried him down the passageway, then stopped at the his cabin.

Two women sat there. They were looking at the log on the computer screen, the one with black hair taking notes. The blonde turned, and he felt an even deeper chill. If there were Space-feeders, their females looked like humans.

Maybe the Space feeders Were human!

“Very interesting log, Captain.” She said coolly. “Every ship you attacked, every station you ransacked, every person you killed. Every rendezvous you made. It will make a spectacular trial. A pity you didn’t mention who supplied the ships and your fighters.”

“My people-”

“Spare me.” The black haired Space Feeder looked back at him. “Your planet couldn’t afford this vessel let alone the other five ships in your squadron. A pair of Corellian Wasp class corvettes, A Twi-lek Crasbashti class corvette. two armed merchantmen. Three dozen fighters between them. Eight of them on Station Kroomerik waiting for, Oh yes, Prince of Peace. Such an interesting choice of name for a pirate.”

“A pity we have to take them in for trial. That pair of twins aboard the Corellian liner last month. would rather we fed them into a mass converter alive.” The blonde said. “How many times did your crew rape them? Bad enough the Humans had to get involved but everyone else?” She looked disgusted. “I think who someone sleeps with is their choice, but did any of you give those four girls a choice?” She leaned forward, and her eyes seemed to grow as he looked into them.

“You want to atone for this.” She whispered.

“I must atone.” He replied.

“You must tell me who supplied the ship.”

“I must tell you.”

Breia felt it when Sienna concentrated on the Devaronian this time. It was as if she could feel the tickle of a sneeze. Or a buzzing from a misaligned drive. It was there, but it was in the force.

“Tell me.”

“The ship was on Nar Shaddaa” he said. “On Pad 94.”

“Who put it there?”

“Told where it was.”

“Who gave you the access code.”

“Drubba the Hutt.”

“Where did he get the ship?”

“Didn’t say.”

“Who paid you?”

“Money deposited in accounts on Bothuwai.”

“By?”

“Don’t know.”

The questioning went on for over an hour. Sienna leaned back from him, looking at Breia. “Nothing.”

“We have bank accounts on Bothuwai, Drubba the Hutt to pick up, and docking records from Nar Shaddaa to go through. We’ll find them.”

I was gone for a conference so it took me awhile to catch up.
The bar scenes are hilarious. The dresses are even better. :D
Yeah, I can see all the players fearing your traps as DM. Nasty. :)
I'm enjoying the mystery development.
There aren't too many stories I'd stay up til nearly 2am to read, you know, but this is one. :)

.
There aren't too many stories I'd stay up til nearly 2am to read, you know, but this is one. :)

Jae, this is the second highest praise i have ever gotten as a writer. Thank you.

Very entertaining. Yodai the "animal," heh-heh-heh. Breia in a callgirl's "uniform" too. Some great imagery in that chapter. :smirk2:

Oh yeah, when I used to DM in D&D? They feared my traps more than anything else.From the intrigue and detail you use in your stories I have no doubt of that whatsoever. :D
Jae, this is the second highest praise i have ever gotten as a writer. Thank you.What was the greatest praise you ever received?

Very entertaining. Yodai the "animal," heh-heh-heh. Breia in a callgirl's "uniform" too. Some great imagery in that chapter. :smirk2:



Sienna had a reason for that as you will discover in the next posting. Ypu'll probably think it's hilarious.


What was the greatest praise you ever received?

When I finally had a book published (Through PublishAmerica, Named Gryphonrider) I sent my mother a copy. She had always refused to read my work, and to tell you the truth, having a writer that closely related refuse to read you work hurt me deeply.

But her e-mail made up for it. 'I have never read a first novel so well polished and perfect in my life'.

Sadly she died in 2004. I have the only copes extant of about five of her works, one of which is already out of print.

A great job so far Machievelli. I really like Breia and Merri. Keep up the great work, and I am sorry about your Mother. :(

Investigations

Sienna walked toward the front desk, watching the guard watch her. Ever since she was sixteen, she had noticed that the male eye followed her like a tracking sensor if she was close enough to really see. Even the other Apprentices had that problem. If she were to pass by men would drop heavy weights, trip over their own big feet, or end up in hospital because they forgot to duck, or watch where they were going.

She had decided, like any woman with such exquisite and efficient sexual armament; to use it. While others just considered raiding the kitchen, she did, successfully.

If she had been a glutton she would have gone from size four to size 14 during her last year. Since her actual passion with food was Echani Fire tea and Hutt Sweet grass tea, she had kept that figure.

She had noticed that the females had just as many problems but in a different way. The fastest way to heat up one of her fellow apprentices, or chill them down to absolute zero if that was the way they dealt with it, was to have her around. The same effect she had noticed went through the Masters at her arrival. The older they were, the less likely they would react, but it was true.

What master (At least Male masters) would ever challenge her? But if she asked for anything from a female master, it would be a cold day in the hells before she got it.

She suddenly realized that Breia Solo had been different in that regard. She had been upset about the clothes of course. Sienna had chosen them after all because she knew Breia would look stunning in them. Not to mention that she expected the woman to go berserk after having to wear them. It was something she had started doing in self defense when dealing with fellow female Jedi.

But instead Breia had merely dressed, whispered dire threats, and gone on with the mission.

She found she liked that a lot. Besides Breia had something she didn’t. She looked down. The one part of her body she would have changed was still smaller. She sighed. Genetics be damned, she thought she would better looking if those changed.

No matter. On to business. She smiled at the guard, probably giving him a slight heart attack. “Sienna Dodonna to see Admiral Dodonna.” She said.

“Uh, yeah.” He punched at the panel in front of him. Since he hadn’t moved his eyes from her, he was just tapping the plastic to no avail.

“Why don’t you look down.” She grinned. “Or did you want me standing here all day?”

He blushed, finally tearing his eyes away from her. “Which Admiral Dodonna?”

“Siriali Dodonna.” She said. “My mother.”

That at least hadn’t changed. If she mentioned that her mother or father were Admirals, a lot of Military men lost their ardor immediately. Others seemed to draw strength from it, but everything has a trade off. He flipped through the index. “Admiral Siriali Dodonna is at lunch with Admiral Freigar Dodonna.” He said. He ran a chip through the scanner, handing it to her. “Level 35 section J.”

“I’ll tell them you were so helpful.” She looked at his collar. “Sergeant..?”

“Brasco, Ma’am.”

“Sergeant Brasco.” She repeated. “Thank you.” She walked past him to the lifts. “Level 35 Section J.” She said. The lift shot up and to the side, smoothly stopping at the station. She stepped out, and a sprite appeared in front of her, dipping once in midair then moving at a walking pace down the corridor. She followed after it until it flashed again, and vanished. The door read Flag Officer’s mess. She sighed, opening the door.

A Lieutenant looked up, standing. “You can’t...” He started, then the voice died. Right then she could have ordered the most expensive dinner in the place and he would have beggared himself to pay for it.

She took pity on him. “I came to see my parents, the Admirals Dodonna. They are expecting me.”

He fumbled for his pad, and tore his eyes away from her as he scanned. “Bondar or Siriali?” He asked.

“Bondar is my uncle.”

If anything he was even more flustered. Having one Admiral as a relative was bad enough. Should she mention that five of the present admirals were related to her? That seven of the retired ones were? She decided not to.

“Cubicle seven.” He turned. “That’s-”

“I know where it is, thank you.” She walked past him. She could feel his eyes like laser designators. At least that part of her body didn’t need any augmentation.

The door opened, and her mother leaped to her feet. The act would have astonished anyone who knew her. Siriali Dodonna had gotten the nickname Ice Princess when she had commanded the 4th fleet. She found herself sinking into the hug sigh a sigh of contentment. She wished other women could react at least partially like this around her.

“Welcome home!” Her mother whispered, kissing her on the cheek. “We were expecting you, but not this early.” She stepped back, taking her daughter's hand, and led her to the table. Her father stood and hugged her as well. He was a bit disappointed in her she knew. Instead of following family tradition, she had never trod a deck in uniform. The Jedi robes she wore, the most sedate set she had in fact, didn’t count.
“Well.” He held her away, making a visual inspection. “They’re still feeding you I see. Ready for some lunch?”

“If it can be a working lunch, Papa.” She said. “I came on Jedi business.”

The pair looked at each other. “It concerns the navy?”

“Definitely.” She sat, picking up the menu. “Remember what you once said Mama about not trusting the Breaker’s yards? Well we found something that might interest you greatly...”

*****

Across the city of Coronet, the same scene with slight variations was being played out. At the Headquarters building of the Corellian Special Intelligence Service, a young woman was having a bit more trouble.

“No, I don’t have an appointment. I have come on Jedi business.” Breia said. “I need to see Minister Solo, and I need to see her now.”

“If you could tell me your business?” She merely glared at him. The man shook his head. “I know all of you kids think we’re all out drinking at parties if we’re not seducing someone, but Minister Solo is a very busy woman. So unless you want to tell me why, I can’t even set an appointment for you.” He had the smarmy look of a petty bureaucratic frog in a very small pond.

Breia looked at him coldly. “Forrestal.” She said. Before he could react, the panel in front of him bleeped. He looked at it, then tapped another button. Behind her she could hear the blast doors slamming down. She watched him as he pulled up a ‘Room Broom’ and aimed it at her as a dozen men poured into the atrium. They stormed over, a bristling array of weapons aimed at her. Then one of the men lowered his weapon.

“By the gods, Miss Solo. Do we have to go through this crap every time you enter the building?” He asked. The men with him lowered their weapons, looking at the man that had spoken.

“As often as you have idiots on the front desk, Major Tori, yes.”

“She wouldn’t-” The secretary started to say.

“She doesn’t need to you twit.” Tori snapped. “That is Breia Solo of the Jedi monastery. Daughter of Minister Solo.”

Breia smiled coldly as the bureaucrat suddenly went ice white. She leaned forward. “Name.”

Uh, Brenner Foss.”

“Well Brenner Foss, I hope you like that desk. You may end up sitting there until you retire.” She looked to Tori. “Major I believe my mother is expecting me?”

“You’re right about that. Tori waved and the men with him headed back into the concealing panels. Breia walked past the desk, and under escort went to the lift. Tori tapped the button. “Executive A.” He said. “Have a better day than he did, Miss.”

“Thank you Major.”

Breia stood patiently as the left took her to the floor given. To the uninitiated, the building and offices would have been forbidding. There were no markers on the doors or walls. No way to tell where you were in the building, or whether you were above ground or below. If you didn’t belong in the building, you needed an escort.

Breia stepped out, walked right to the next corridor, left at the one after that, then right until she ran out of hall. The wall itself shifted, and she walked into an airy office. The windows showed only a night sky. Since it was broad daylight outside, it merely told her that the windows were actually view screens.

“I should have never taught you that code.“ A voice said from the desk. “And I had such high hopes for Foss.” Breia walked forward, and her mother met her halfway. They hugged silently.

“How is father?” Breia asked.

“Not to good.” Holani admitted. Only someone who had known her as long as Breia did could have seen the pain in her face. “Ever since the accident...” She wiped her eyes, turning back to the desk. “You could have easily called me for that information. What do the Jedi need of me this time?”

“Mother, we captured a Raptor class escort after it attempted to take our decoy ship in the Seldon system. It carried A Naboo A4 Streak. Two Corellian Rampants, and an Alderaani Night Hawk.

“We tracked it to Station Kroomerik where we also found that the local factor for the Cariali Chandler’s Company was supplying a lot of hardware they shouldn’t have access to. Including Bat class fighters.

“We took the ship after it took off from Kroomerik and it is at the Monastery right now.” She set down the pad. “They have a small squadron. A pair of Wasps and a Crasbashti along with two armed merchantmen. Very well armed ships.”

“May I?” Breia nodded, and Holani picked up the pad and read. Breia sat across from her. It took several minutes, but Breia knew it was because her mother read it more than once. She read it at least twice more, making notes on her own pad the second and third times.

“And cargo headed for Ando?”

“Some of it. The rest was going to the fleet. Iridian plague virus weaponized right here ten years ago. And the ship had an addition to it’s mutiny system. CN20.”

Holani watched her, then thumbed a contact. “Seela, contact the DSI. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

“Madam-”

“Tell him someone has sold CN20 and samples of Operation Firestorm.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“What did the other 200 odd cubic meters consist of? As if I didn‘t know?”

“Enough weapons to outfit a Raider Battalion.”

“So, the Aqualish are part of this.”

Breia nodded. Most times a first contact was relatively peaceful, though they could go horribly wrong. One of the worst first contacts had happened barely fifteen years before. A Corporate vessel had discovered the planet Ando, where two species, one aquatic, the other land bound, lived. The Quara and the Aquala, land and sea dwellers respectively had ended their generations long feud to join forces long enough to slaughter the crew of that ill fated vessel.

Using it, they had attacked other ships near their system, building a tidy fleet before one of them had been stupid enough to attack a Corellian liner. That ship had escaped, and a punitive squadron had arrived. the ships had been recaptured, the planet interdicted. Unfortunately the governments involved couldn’t justify such an expense, and had turned the blockade over to four corporations, three Corellian, one Coruscanti.

Holani called up the holographic readout. “Ando, full data.” She ordered.

“Non-cleared citizen in office-”

“Case Omega.” Holani snapped.

The computer mulled it over. She was after all DDSO, Deputy Director of Special Operations. The holo blossomed into a water world with about 30% land. Above it, ships in four colors moved. The planet had been divided into four quadrants as well in each of the colors. A massive station floated in a geosynchronous orbit.

Breia stood, walking over to stand beside her mother. “Which corporations are part of this?”

“The Corellian corporations are in red for Capistan, blue for Androin, and green for Kasmarak. The Coruscanti company is Wayfarer.”

“End Holo!” A voice screamed. Director Maron glared at Holani, then at her daughter.

“Bandying code word material in front of a civilian? Giving code word information over the net? I’ll have your job for this Solo!”

“Director, my daughter was reporting to me concerning all of that.” Holani replied levelly. “And the Jedi have samples of both sitting on their landing pad right now.”

“You dared to-”

“Oh shut up.” Breia snapped. The man’s face purpled. “Are you going to keep screaming false accusations or are you going to listen to the report?”

Moran huffed, then threw himself into a seat. Breia ran through it all again. He stiffened as she reported the mass of weapons the Cariali factor had in his possession.

“The crate might have had something other than the plague virus you claim.” Moran kibitzed. “A false trail to lead you back here.”

“No.” Breia merely looked at him. “We were able to draw off a sample. Meeri, my Padawan Learner is in quarantine until we are sure she is safe. But it is Iridian Plague. The nerve gas was installed in a Raptor class escort as a mutiny/boarding defense. Whoever did it wanted to make sure that the crew died. Enroute here we discovered three different explosive charges that were set to explode under specific conditions. Those conditions were if it came into the Corellian Coruscant or Ryloth systems. The radar returns that would activate it match exactly the defensive nets of those three planets.

“We took both of them from pirates pure and simple. Those are the facts. As for ‘Firestorm’, if I had merely delivered it to it’s destination...” She waved toward the now cleared holo image, “About fifty thousand people would be dying in that system alone.” She walked over, glaring at him from a two meter distance. “So if you want this ‘civilian’ to walk out and contact GTA or perhaps the press, keep blustering.”

He sputtered.

“Who else have you informed?” Holani asked.

“We have sent ships to Coruscant Ryloth and Ando.“ If anything his color got darker. Breia looked at him. “I would suggest you calm down before your blood pressure puts you in hospital.” She turned back to her mother. “I needed to notify you so an internal inv-”

“That is not her department!” Moran snarled. “That is Prentiss’ job.”

“Then perhaps we should call him up here-”

“No!” Moran waved it off. “Too many people already know about this. Including you people.” He glared at Breia. “Your order is under orders-”

“Director we do not report to you, or obey you orders!” Breia stood. “We answer to a higher purpose than any government you wish to name.” She turned, waving him away. “Now go about your business before I forget what my order teaches and give you the spanking your mother should have!”

“This isn’t the end of it, Solo.” He stalked out.

“I can see you do not have my knack for diplomacy.”

“When there is time, I could out-subtle that twit on my worst day.” She turned to her mother. “But I don’t believe we have that time. There is more.” She went over the captured colony, and the enemy squadron there.

“I think we may allow our brothers in the navy deal with this.” Holani said after some thought. “I will have to inform them.“

“No need. Sienna Dodonna is a member of our order. Her father is the JAG, and her mother is in charge of BuShips.”

Holani looked at her. “Is the order as well connected on Coruscant and Ryloth?”

“No. We have direct access to Admiral Lucas at Coruscanti ONI, but the director of Coruscanti Intelligence is new.”

“Maygar Phelp. Yes, lucky for you I am well connected there.” She turned to her computer, attached a whisper-mike to her throat, and spoke silently for several seconds. Then she popped out a chip, handing it to her. “I will send a message asking for some of his time for a member of your order. That is the bona fides to verify who it is, to get past his own layers of flappers. Will you need the same for Ryloth?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Their new Premier doesn’t like us.”

“What about their navy and Intelligence?”

“Her first cousin is in charge of ONI, and her younger brother was appointed as head of Intelligence as you well know.”

Holani considered, then made another chip handing it over as well. “Ever hear of Kalo Fortuna?”

“No.”

“He’s about three levels down from the directorate. He’s a ‘handler’ working for Twi-lek intelligence. He’s too efficient to be political, but he has a web of people in his own organization that have performed admirably. Have that delivered to him.” She turned back to the computer, then handed her yet another chip. “Bib Wanatagi is in their Office of Naval intelligence. As good, as apolitical. After contacting Fortuna, have him introduce your envoy to Wanatagi.”

She tapped an annunciator. “Seela, have Logos come in.” She released the stud. “Now if you don’t mind dear, I have an internal investigation to begin.”

Breia smiled. “What of our esteemed Prentiss?”

“Prentiss couldn’t find his butt with a complete map and a guide. Like our esteemed director, he is a political appointee. But he cleans up well, can quote the jargon as if he is intelligent, and unless you have gotten to know him, at least appears to know what he is talking about.

“Now shoo. Some of us have work to do.”