I love it when people actually get things done in spite of politics. :)
Sienna's a very fun character.
The scene with Holani and the director reminds me a bit of Clancy's Clear and Present Danger (if I have the right book title--the one where he finds out the director's involved in the plot).

I can sort of feel for the system loading issue--last chapter I did, I was trying to hit a button in my system tray and ended up hitting post reply on accident before I was done reformatting it out of word.

I love it when people actually get things done in spite of politics. :)
Sienna's a very fun character.
The scene with Holani and the director reminds me a bit of Clancy's Clear and Present Danger (if I have the right book title--the one where he finds out the director's involved in the plot).

I can sort of feel for the system loading issue--last chapter I did, I was trying to hit a button in my system tray and ended up hitting post reply on accident before I was done reformatting it out of word.

That's the right work, Jae. I looked at the situation, and nothing ruins it when you're trying to get something done more than being 'helped' by the government.

If you have fun with Sienna, you'll love what Breia does to get even for the street walker get up.

I'm thinking that it is quite fortunate the Jedi monastery has such well-connected members to facilitate addressing important matters such as this weaponized Iridian plague. Very fortunate indeed.

I'm thinking that it is quite fortunate the Jedi monastery has such well-connected members to facilitate addressing important matters such as this weaponized Iridian plague. Very fortunate indeed.


One thing the original order IMO had was such connections once they moved from their first monastery. Dar's saving Holani and Breia in the first part of book one gave them links to both the Corellian Government and industry, and the Echani which if you will notice I didn't explore. The primary link here is still Holani, but what happens when she retires?

As for Sienna look at any kid that is scion of a family (Especially a rich or famous one). How much real power they can wield? Imagine Sienna as Paris Hilton with the brains to know what she can do and only using that power when necessary.

Saving Coruscant in the first part of this one gave them links to the Coruscanti Government. Those links will survive for a time but they are not forever. The watchword in politcis should be 'but what have you done for me lately?'

Note that when the Chancellor of Coruscant tried the old gladhanding SOS technique, I had the Jedi refusing to take sides. Want to bet the Coruscant connection will fade pretty soon?

However when I start going over the investigations in the end of the next chapter and the chapter after that, the one thing you will notice is that a lot of the work will be done completely sub rosa. Either the politicians in charge are part of the problem, or they will be activly interfering.

By the end of this you will have the start of the Republic, but at the same time the birht of something else, Republic Intelligence. Now look at Coruscant and Corellia. Who do you think will be tapped just to get them out of the local government's hair? Try Admiral Lucas and Holani Solo.

Note that a good chunk of that chapter was talking about where they don't have such extensive connections, on Coruscant and Ryloth.

The watchword in politcis should be 'but what have you done for me lately?'


You mean it's not already? ;P



Note that when the Chancellor of Coruscant tried the old gladhanding SOS technique, I had the Jedi refusing to take sides. Want to bet the Coruscant connection will fade pretty soon?

However when I start going over the investigations in the end of the next chapter and the chapter after that, the one thing you will notice is that a lot of the work will be done completely sub rosa. Either the politicians in charge are part of the problem, or they will be activly interfering.


I never bet on politics, because I never know who's on the inside making deals (you support me on this bill, I'll make sure you get some appropriations for your district....) OK, if I was LBJ and it was American politics, I might be able to bet, but I don't think anyone's mastered the Senate Majority leader seat the way he did so effectively in the '50's.

Ah, intrigue....

You mean it's not already? ;P




I never bet on politics, because I never know who's on the inside making deals (you support me on this bill, I'll make sure you get some appropriations for your district....) OK, if I was LBJ and it was American politics, I might be able to bet, but I don't think anyone's mastered the Senate Majority leader seat the way he did so effectively in the '50's.

Ah, intrigue....

That is the way it is done, true. But most people pretend it isn't the case.

An unlikely team

It had been done before Breia had even arrived at Corellia in the captured Pirate. She had seen her ship resting in space in an orbit that would never touch the planet. The hazard lights had been switched on. The cubicle had already been moved to the surface and installed. She had been terrified at the implications. Maybe she had forgotten a trap...

No it wasn’t her negligence. It was something else.

Breia walked into the Monastery science center. The cubicle in the center was new. They had needed to request it from the University science lab, and had it installed immediately after Hawk flight had arrived in system. A full scale biohazard containment for an ultimate level threat. Built to hold something so deadly, that no one would ever want it released.

Nothing got into that containment unless it was sent in. Food came in through a sealed unit and the trays and utensils were pressed paper that were fed into the mass converter in the corner.

Nothing could get out as well. A separate air plant kept the atmosphere inside clean if a little bland. Like a ship’s recycling system with air tanks added because even that air could be deadly. Samples of blood and tissue could be taken through attachments on the opposite wall. Injections of medicine came in the same way. Sealed in small containers untouched. All taken or given by the occupant.

She ignored the tank to one side. It was attached to the reactor core of the sealed power unit, and would siphon raw fusion plasma into that enclosure in an emergency. Converting the inner section into the heart of a star for a few brief seconds. Nothing could survive it. If that happened, they wouldn’t even open it. They would merely pick it up with tractor cable, and throw it into the star.

She looked into the transparisteel room, then touched the annunciator.

“That was an insane gamble, Meeri.”

The Ithorian looked up from the desk where she was working, and sighed. “We had to know for sure. I am sure that none of the toxin was released, and this-” she waved at her prison. “-is only a precaution.

“I don’t want to lose you, Damnit! Of all the self centered egotistical-”

“It is done, my master.” Meeri said. “Besides, my people are experts with such materials. If I had not gotten the sample, the Office of Special Intelligence would have destroyed it and pretended it didn’t exist.”

Breia had returned to the enclave on the heels of a team from Corellian OSI who had quoted DORA, and tried to file a gag order and left with the gas and bioweapon.

The Monks would ignore the gag order, she knew. DORA, or the Defense Of the Realm Act applied to them only if they were citizens of Corellia. The Jedi had fought hard against being defined as belonging, to or acting as agents for, any planet. The Chancellor of Coruscant had found that out the same way a year or so ago in his reelection bid when they had refused to endorse him. When they had then made the same statement about his opponent publicly, they had accepted it.

The monks served the Force, and peace. Not a government. Corellia would learn that lesson as well.

“Any luck?”

“Not as such.” Meeri motioned to the fittings she had requested. A full scale bio lab computer attached to the Monastery mainframe, and from there linked to the University. The entire medical school database was hers to command, and a dozen immunologists across the planet were working with her. “There have been no cases of Iridian plague in Ithorians so far. If I have the disease-”

“Don’t talk about dying so dispassionately!” Breia hissed. “I will not let you go.”

“If die I must, at least this will be a happy death.” Meeri replied calmly. “I have always been better with bacteria than I am with other beings. And if it does not kill me, the research I do will aid in beating it in time.”

Breia sighed, leaning against the transparisteel. “Can’t you be wrong for once?”

“I hope I am this time.” Meeri assured her. Besides, this is only for a month.”

“While I have to sit on my butt waiting, hoping I won’t be saying goodbye.”

“Don’t sit. Have another Padawan learner assigned during the interim.”

“So I can worry at long distance instead!” Breia waved her hand. “All right. I have to report to the Council anyway.”

“You should have done that first.” Meeri told her. “You’re always telling me to do everything in the proper order.”

“All right! I’m going.” Breia lay her hand against the cold metal. Meeri walked over, her hand touching the other side.

“May the Force be with you, my Master.”

Breia walked out, head down, deep in thought. She walked across the compound toward the council chamber.

Someone appeared at her side, and she glanced up. “Oh it’s you.”

People can say so much with just a few words. What Breia could have said was; We have a crisis, people are dying, a planet has been captured by pirates, the pirates have ships and weapons that should never have gotten into their hands. The deadly virus they somehow obtained may have infected my student, and instead of sitting here with her I have to go out and stop them. On top of all this, there is you little miss Admiral‘s daughter...

Hello, you.

Sienna walked with her. “How is Meeri?”

“Fine so far. But the plague is nasty. She might start showing symptoms any day.”

“I hope she doesn’t have it.” Sienna said. “She is such a good friend.”

“How well do you know her?”

“We were students together obviously. She is probably the only one in my class that ignored my looks.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Why? To an Ithorian humans are rather ugly, you know. But even the other non-humans seemed to be affected by me.” Sienna sighed. “Why couldn’t I look like Mama or my sister!”

“Sister?”

“Yes. Captain Freya Dodonna. When she was in her teens she was a willowy young thing. But as she grew older, she started looking like mama. Squat, solid. Looking like she could walk through a wall without a combat chassis. I didn’t even take after Papa! He is rail thin. He looks like a brisk wind would blow him away.

“Somehow, I ended up looking like this.” Sienna waved at herself. “A young man’s wet dream. I was happy when the order asked me to join. Maybe someone in the world would look beyond the face.”

They paced silently for a moment. “Breia, I wanted to thank you.”

“For what?”

“You are the only human woman I know who hasn’t either bared their claws or hissed at me in my life. You may think my taste in clothes is a bit extravagant-”

“A bit extravagant?” Breia turned to face her. “You had me parading in public in an outfit I wouldn’t be caught dead in and you think it’s just a bit extravagant?”

“Defense mechanism.” Sienna answered. “If every woman acts like you’re going to steal their lover, husband whatever, you tend to start being just a leetle bit defensive.”

“I understand.” Breia sighed. “A lot of men don’t look at my face when they talk to me.”

“That is one part of you I envy.” Sienna replied. “If I had those...”

Breia pictured her chest superimposed on the other girl. “The entire universe would become a black hole with you at the center and every male old enough to think about breeding trying to get closer until all matter collapsed inward.”

The women stared at each other, then burst into laughter.

“Friends?” Sienna asked.

“Friends.” Breia agreed.

They continued on into the council chamber. Reyes and Caroli with their Padawan learners were already there.

Soo-chin sat in the center, flanked on one side by master Hobart, and the other by Master Lang. The others took their positions.

“Report.”

Breia motioned to Sienna. “The Corellian navy has been notified, and an investigation is in progress. Admiral Tran of ONI will keep the Council informed, but is not running the internal investigation. Too many of his senior men are suspect.

“Tran have asked that we contact the Coruscanti and Twi-lek ourselves to avoid warning the ONI men that would be watching us. Relations between the three governments has grown distant of late.

“The navy is going to assign the Thule operation to a special operations unit. A ship is being prepared to take down the planet’s defenses.” Sienna motioned to Breia.

“Corellian Special Intelligence has been informed. Two different investigations are being conducted there as well. Deputy Director for Internal Affairs Prentiss is handling one. My mother has one of her assistants, Logos, handling the actual investigation.”

“Why?” Master Lang asked.

“Master, in my mother’s own words, Prentiss couldn’t find his own butt with a map and guide. He was appointed by Director Moran a few years ago, and having worked with the local intelligence organization before, I must agree with her. He was in charge of the Corridan investigation if you recall.”

Three years earlier, the Jedi had uncovered links between the Corellian Corridan Corporation and a slavery operation. They had turned over their data to OSI which had proceeded to muddle the investigation so thoroughly that all operations by the slavers had been relocated, and all evidence linking the corporation had been destroyed. OSI had turned around, pretty much called the Jedi alarmist, and closed it having achieved nothing.

“Your mother’s investigation will be concealed by the more obtuse group.” Soo-chin replied. “Excellent.”

“She gave me introductory material for both the Coruscanti and Twi-lek authorities.” She held up the chips her mother had given her. “The Twi-lek contacts will bypass Premier Lassa’s pet dogs.”

“As much as I agree with you sentiment, let the term ‘pet dogs’ stay in this room.” Master Soo-chin said. “Reyes, you will go to Coruscant. Contact their navy and intelligence. Caroli, you will do the same on Ryloth. Padawan Solo, since your student is in medical isolation, I would suggest you have another assigned.”

Breia looked at her. “If Master Hobart doesn’t object, I would ask for Padawan Dodonna to be assigned in the interim.”

She saw amusement in Soo-chin’s eyes, and was that relief in Hobart’s? Soo-chin glanced at Hobart. “If Master Hobart doesn’t object-”

“Oh, no!” Hobart looked relieved, never noticing the slight grin Soo-chin hid. “No objection at all. I can see she will learn a lot from you, Padawan Solo.”

“And I from her.” Breia replied.

“I hope not.” Soo-chin whispered. “And what will this dirty pair be doing?”

“I was going to ask for permission to go with the Corellian operation on Thule.”

“Of course. Well you had all best be about it.”

Breia walked out, followed by Sienna. “You know a mask might help.”

“A mask?”

“Yes.” Breia glanced toward her. “We have enough members of other races in the order. If you were to wear say a Marine helmet, no one will see your face and get... distracted.”

Sienna thought of that. “I’d have to wear full robes. Hood and all.”

“If you can stand it.”

She grinned, looking at the older woman. “As long as you dress a little more... flamboyantly?”

“Perhaps a little.”

“I have just the outfit!”

“You would.”

*****

The Corellian Armed merchantman Star Trader rested in the civilian space-dock. Two people approached it from the docking ring, and the sentry noticed them. He waited until he could see them clearly, then thumbed his com link. “Maybe those are the Jedi we‘re expecting, but the one I can see at this distance doesn’t fit the description you gave, sir.”

“Meaning?”

“Built to die for, with blonde hair.” He squinted. “This one has coal black hair.” He grinned. “But she does have some interesting... attributes.”

“Check them in.” The Guard Commander ordered.

The pair stopped at the gangway. “Padawan Solo of the Jedi, and my Padawan learner Sienna.” The guard looked at the other person. The form was muffled in full hooded robes and a long flowing cloak with a bulbous Marine helmet painted a deep scarlet. Then he turned his eyes back to Solo. She was wearing a robe something like what her assistant wore, but it showed more.

A lot more.

The upper portion had been cut down to her waist, showing an expanse of creamy tanned skin and the mammalian swelling on both sides held in and up, he believed, with either magic or repulsor lift technology. He wondered for a moment what would happen if she panted, then put the thought aside because of the discomfort it might cause. The bottom had been slit up both sides, hanging in a vee front and back which showed equally creamy legs above half boots.

“Welcome, Jedi. The captain is expecting you.”

Breia nodded, and the pair walked past him. “Oh, and Sergeant?” She motioned up from mid chest. “My face is up here.” The man reddened, turning back to his post.

“I can barely see out of this thing!” Sienna complained.

“If I had been dressed as I normally do, he wouldn’t have noticed us until we spoke.” They reached the lift. “Bridge.” Breia ordered. The lift shot up about halfway through the ship. The center spindle of a 7 megaton freighter was the living quarters engineering spaces etc surrounded by the cargo bays. The design was a container carrier meaning that instead of being able to see the hull in the distance, there were obvious bulkheads.

The bridge would normally be at the bow, and there was a conning station there with all of the standard fitting. But they stepped out into a respectable copy of a corvette’s bridge buried in the heart of the ship. A woman was in the command chair, checking a pad, making notes. She looked up, then set it aside to stand.

Captain Freya Dodonna looked exactly like her sister’s description. Short and broad as a hatch. Her face was beautiful but unlike her sister, not so arresting that she would stop traffic.

“Jedi.” She nodded, taking in the figure beside Breia. “I thought my sister had been assigned to this mission.”

“She was.” Breia replied, motioning toward her companion. “Do you happen to have a wastebasket?” Freya looked at her oddly, lifting the canister from beside her desk. Breia lifted what appeared to be a detonator.

“What are you-” Breia pressed the button. Sienna gasped, then began hacking, hands clawing desperately, trying to remove her helmet. She threw it aside, taking the wastebasket Breia handed her, and began to vomit explosively.

Captain Dodonna looked at her sister, then as Breia in question. “Your sister decided to dress me in what she considered ‘appropriate’ clothes a week or so ago.” Breia said over the moaning and choking. “Let’s us just say that payback is a bitch, and so am I.”

“What... was... Oh gods!” Sienna buried her head in the wastebasket. “Was that?”

“Rankle rat musk.” Breia replied. “Pretty bad, eh?”

“Oh you-” The head went back down. Shoulders heaving.

“If you feel something like your intestines coming up, I suggest you stop.” Breia told her helpfully.

Freya turned away, her shoulders quivering. Then she turned back, the only sign of amusement the glint in her eye. “I would ask that you not do that again.”

“I have no intention of doing that again. Once is payback. Twice is a declaration of war.” Breia replied. She knelt by Sienna, who was moaning into the bucket as if she were dying. “Now from this point on we are going to act like professionals, agreed?“ Sienna nodded frantically. “This is just getting even for that outfit you made me wear. It doesn’t have to go any farther now does it.” Frantic head shake no. “Truce?”

Not trusting her voice, Sienna stuck a hand out blindly, and they shook.

Breia stood, hands clasped behind her back. “Captain as soon as my assistant is back on her feet, we can get underway.”

Freya smiled slowly. “I see you and my sister will get along like a house on fire.”

Breia cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

“Smoke, flames, confusion, people screaming, and destruction far beyond where we actually are.” Sienna groaned, setting the bucket aside and wiping her mouth. She nodded thanks when Breia handed her an anti-nausea pill. Once it began to take affect, she staggered to her feet. “Tell my, big sister, has anyone gotten even with me so efficiently before?”

“The girl at camp when you were seven.”

“Hey, she doesn’t count! She was trying to kill me!” She shook her head.

“Come now. A seven year old trying to kill you? She just didn't know she could kill you."

“Weren’t you supposed to take command of a Frigate?”

“Yes.” Freya looked a little bothered. “But Mother and Father asked me to command this mission. Since Star Trader has to do her shakedown cruise anyway, I agreed. No one will know that we have something more important on our plates. Give me a slaver or a pirate to shoot at and I‘ll be happy. And once we’re home...” She grinned, a feral look that went well with what Breia had heard.

Breia pressed the button. Sienna gasped, then began hacking, hands clawing desperately, trying to remove her helmet. She threw it aside, taking the wastebasket Breia handed her, and began to vomit explosively.

Captain Dodonna looked at her sister, then as Breia in question. “Your sister decided to dress me in what she considered ‘appropriate’ clothes a week or so ago.” Breia said over the moaning and choking. “Let’s us just say that payback is a bitch, and so am I.”:rofl: Friggin' hilarious! I'm interested in seeing whether or not the truce holds up. :smirk2:

I'm also anxious about Meeri's fate. Will the Ithorian start showing symptoms of an Iridian plague infection or not?

:rofl: Friggin' hilarious! I'm interested in seeing whether or not the truce holds up. :smirk2:

I'm also anxious about Meeri's fate. Will the Ithorian start showing symptoms of an Iridian plague infection or not?

I laughed just as hard as Cutmeister on the payback thing, and worried just as much about Meeri.

Soo-chin commenting that Holani's investigation would be 'concealed by the more obtuse group' was very amusing. :)

I laughed just as hard as Cutmeister on the payback thing, and worried just as much about Meeri.

Soo-chin commenting that Holani's investigation would be 'concealed by the more obtuse group' was very amusing. :)


To tell you the truth Meeri has gotten out of control. Her fate at present is in her hands not mine.

I was remembering every internal investigation I have ever seen when I made the comment about 'obtuse' groups. We are going to spend most of the next two chapters looking at them in depth as the investigations continue.

I'm looking forward to seeing just how obtuse they can get, because I'm sure that will be even more amusing. :D

Oh-oh, it's generally bad news when the character gets out of control....

Determination
Admiral Tran read the chip he had collected, rubbing his jaw. He had been ordered by the CNO to investigate the ships that had passed into pirate hands. It might have been easier if Page hadn’t died last year. His replacement Veren was a little too well connected to the Senate.

So he’d violated orders.

He was waiting for his best man to arrive. The one man he could trust to investigate thoroughly.

Out in the outer office, a thin man with unruly hair was going through his pockets as the Secretary glared at him. No one knew how Cracken had stayed in the Marines this long. He always looked unkempt, slovenly, walking the corridors of power with a perpetually stupid look on his face. After 34 years of service he was still a Captain when most his age had their third star.

Cracken reached finally into his tunic and pulled out the folder with his ID. He handed it to the secretary, who ran the chip into his scanner. It bleeped green, and he handed it back.

“Could you at least try to look presentable?” Cracken looked at the younger naval officer, already a captain, and ran his fingers through his hair, making it if anything worse than it had been. Then he pulled down his tunic, slid the folder back into the inner pocket, and walked up to the door, knocking.

“Come!”

Tran looked up, smiling sadly. Cracken was looking worse every year. He started to talk, but Cracken’s hand moved slowly. As he approached he kept fidgeting, looking it would seem, for something else in his pocket. He stopped at the chair, then gave it up as a bad job. He snapped to attention, and his eyes closed slowly, then snapped open again. Tran’s mouth tightened.

“I hear they are upset with you in the shipyard. “ He said gently.

“Can’t remember where to file the goldenrod copies.” Cracken said defensively.

“I can cover for you again, but you have to do better.” Tran printed out a chip. “I want you to head over to Personnel. They need a man in charge of records. Since all you have to do is put the files where they belong, you should be able to handle that.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Cracken took the chip, holding it as if he didn’t know what to do with it.

“Put it in your ID folder. Inside your tunic.” Tran suggested. Cracken dug out the folder, slid the chip into it, turning the folder slightly so that Tran could see a glint of scarlet light. Then he put it away.

Tran sat there alone for a long time after Cracken had left. It could be worse than he had anticipated.

*****

Captain Nial Cracken left the building, headed across the quadrangle toward the Personnel building. He saluted the senior officers he passed automatically.

Fifteen years earlier he had been a Master Sergeant, working as an assistant to a brand new Captain in intelligence assigned to the Embassy on Nal Hutta. Except for stripes instead of bars, he looked not unlike how he looked now. He had been the assistant to the Naval Attache. The captain had been sent as a replacement for a very successful agent who had died suddenly in a shuttle accident and despaired at ever being half as good. Cracken had walked him through the process, and was going to leave as the Captain tried to work out a contact schedule with the various agents he now had to handle and had muttered a name under his breath.

Cracken had taken pity on the man, and began listing each agent, the race of that agent, whether they were paid, patriots, thieves, disgruntled, all with the Captain staring at him in amazement.

Cracken had been the ace in the hole at the embassy for almost five years. A master not of disguise but obscurity. The man could wander through a room and even professionals had trouble remembering him. He had been the agent in place running the agents with a skill that made people wonder if he had done anything at all. He had been so good at his job that the Hutt Internal Security service had not even considered him a suspect. He saw everything and forgot nothing.

Cracken had a photographic memory, and had always thought that his image was the best possible disguise. Unfortunately, everyone seem to think he was the image. A misapprehension he had fostered his entire career. Everyone except for the extremely successful agent that Captain Tran had replaced, and Tran himself.

Tran had risen meteorically from that point on. He was already an excellent investigator and analyst, having Cracken working for him delivering the data had made him a man to watch.

When he’d gotten his first star he had returned home, with the bemused recently promoted second lieutenant to handle his records. Everyone had come up with reasons for why Tran had taken him under his wing. All were flat wrong.

Cracken began his act as he approached the building. He actually knew exactly where everything was. He knew exactly how much cash he had in his pocket (Ten credits 73 centimes in the front right beside his lighter) how many smokes he had left (three out of one 20 pack, one full pack. Both in the inner right breast pocket) and how many people he had seen today (421 counting the seventeen children between the ages of four and seventeen).

The quiet investigation on Corellia was to begin not by JAG or ONI, where it would have been expected, but in personnel, where one of Siriali’s old friends worked, as did another old associate of Tran‘s. It was a good thing they had.

Cracken fidgeted out his ID, and was sent down to records. He knew the system. In fact it had been upgraded thanks to suggestions he had made to Tran when Tran had been briefly assigned to Personnel after his return from Embassy duty.

He sat at his terminal, and processed the multitude of forms that fed a military bureaucracy instead of food. He was a stolid worker according to those that watched him, constantly emptying his In tray every hour.

What no one noticed, was his attempts to break into the secure system and actually read those files. He found it tough going. He was an excellent slicer, but he found he needed a miraculous one to break through the security systems.

*****

The Wraith Cantina was a dive, pure and simple. A place you went where nobody knew your name and cared less. The pair were an odd mix. Rath Amidala was from Krieos, running fast he could catch a fatal disease. His partner Nance Page was slim, petite, and looked as if she should be selling cookies. They got their drinks, and took a table in the back. The one they wanted had a robed occupant already.

“Weird.” Nance lifted the mug, sipping. “Somebody tagged you through your own files?”

Rath nodded. He had been checking his personal files, and found message he had not put there. MEET AT WRAITH. BRING YOUR BEST FRIEND.

Amidala looked around. “I thought no one could break into those files. Not without a code key.”

“I had one.” They looked up at the robed figure that had stood from his table, and moved over to them. His accent was the hiss of a Twi-lek. “Your own from last month.”

The pair turned to look the newcomer over. “So you knew I’d notice that it was an old code?”

“You change codes the way women change their dresses.” The figure looked at Nance. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Nance replied levelly. If she had owned two dresses when she was a kid, she would have changed them. “You set the meet, have a seat.”

The man at least from the voice sat, hand holding a glass of whiskey. It disappeared into the hood, and came out empty.

“First, my proof that I know what and who you are.” He gestured with his head toward Page. “Nance Page is the name you are using now. Full name Nance Welbourne Page. Daughter of miners on an obscure little planet. The miners revolted, and were put down hard. You were a sneak thief with a gift for locks and security systems.” He waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen what that colony was like. If you weren’t a miner or with the government, it was find a way to make money or die.

“Your parents, were not involved in the rebellion, but were killed in a firefight between government and rebels. You joined the rebels, and used your skills to help them carry out assassinations. The rebellion ended when the Company pulled out, leaving you all to die. But you survived until another Company bought up the rights. They were willing to accept everyone. That is everyone but the hit team you were part of. You’re the only survivor after the bounty hunters got through. They think you’re dead.”

He turned toward Amidala. “Rath Amidala. Full name Rathmar Forgeren Amidala, twin brother to the last King of Krieos.” The figure shrugged. “If they had not used a Cesarean section to save your lives, you might have been the senior twin and claimed the family title. Your brother seems to still think that is what you wanted. After several attempts by assassins, you left home, but now it was bounty hunters on your trail. You faked your death with the help of an organization called the White Brotherhood. An interesting name for a criminal gang. They used your skill at slicing to make them a fortune until they ran afoul of the authorities. Most of them are dead or in prison. You skated by accessing the Police database, and removing your name.” He signalled, waiting for his drink to arrive. The pair watched him like dogs awaiting an order to attack.

“Now I for one don’t care what you might have done except for one thing. Right before you got together as a team five years ago, you each did a service for the Corellian ONI. If you don’t know what the other person did, you can ask later.

“But thanks to those services, I was able to find you. There are no bounty hunters looking, and I will tell no one. In fact, if you help with what I need, even the ONI records can be scrubbed.” The glass went in, and came out empty. “Plus we give you enough cash to start over, and get you off planet.” He signalled for another shot.

“Sounds tempting.” Nance said levelly. “What’s so important that you will do all of that for us?”

He picked up the drink, told them, and it followed the others into oblivion as they stared at him in shock. He had his next drink before either found their voice.

“You’re insane!” Nance whispered. “Do you know how secure those records are?”

“Better than you do.” He replied. “You don’t need to steal them. Just fry them, and make it look like someone off planet. And it has to be done during the day when the night precautions are not in effect, which would give you a lot more to deal with. Those are requirements.”

“I’d say it’s impossible.” Rath snapped. “Seven layers of encryption alone by day.”

“As I said. No need to steal or access them. Only to fry them. That’s only two layers deep.” The drink disappeared.

“He’s right.” Nance said. “Initial access and query access.”

“Yeah. But you set a virus loose Fleet Security comes down like the hammer of the gods.”

“That’s why you need to be quick and good. Both of you are that.”

They looked at each other, then at him. “And the pay?” Amidala asked.

“As I said. All records expunged, tickets off planet, and cash.”

“How much cash?” Nance pressed.

“Name a figure.”

“Half a million Corellian credits in gems. Each. Half delivered before we do anything.” Amidala replied. “This is so big we would never want to work again. Too much chance they would catch us even with your clearing our names.”

He paused. “Done.” He reached into a pocket, and a scintillating pile of gems poured from a bag. “These are so you can verify the money. The retainer you get for listening to the proposal. The rest if and when you agree.”

Nance picked up a Coruscanti fire opal, looking at it in the light. “Not synth?”

“That is for you to verify. However if I remember correctly, the bartender has a scale. Trust it?”

Amidala snorted. The bartender of the Wraith as a Bothan. No one could convince him to use a crooked scale.

The device was brought with the next round. Nance put the gem she had picked up on the scale. It was a combination scale scintillometer, with a connection to the exchange for verifying market value. The stone hit, was scanned, weighed, and a figure came up. 500 credits. The total of all of them came to just under 15,000.

“The stones are good.” she told her partner.

“So. Yes, or no?”

“We’ll need some time-”

“Within the week.” The robed figure said. “That is non-negotiable.”

“Agreed.”

He stood, and another stone dropped on the table. “That will cover our drinks.” He set down a pad. “That will contact me only within the next two days and can‘t be traced. Give me a time.” He turned and walked away.

*****

The day started like any other in central records. But that was about to change.

*****

“Perfect.” Amidala said, rubbing his hands at the sight of the terminal. Nance nodded, rigging pressure mines on the door, then another in the center of the floor.

“Set.”

The slicer sat down, and inserted the specially made chip. It had taken three days to make it, and when it was done it would fry so there was no traceable material remaining. He cracked his knuckles, and began programming.

He hummed an atonal song that would have grated if Nance had not been with him on jobs like this before. He worked swiftly, cutting through the first layer like butter. The second was harder, but now he was in. He uploaded the virus, and activated it, shutting down.

He almost made it. As he shut down the second link the computer froze, Fleet security slicers tracking to their location. At this distance they would be here in minutes.

“Let’s get out of here!” He snapped. Nance triggered the mine in the floor, and they dropped into the empty apartment below. A series of mines took them down four floors before they stopped. They peeled off the latex they had over their clothing, and Nance dropped a pyro on top of them. They were at the lift when the fire alarms went off.

The lobby was crowded when they arrived. People were moving swiftly and quietly toward the exits. The pair had just stepped out and turned to move down the street when an assault shuttle landed, Marines in combat armor and armed to the teeth pouring out. They missed getting caught in the cordon by walking calmly down into the mag-lev subway.

The next train was headed for Centralia spaceport, and they allowed it to leave, taking the one for downtown instead. Five minutes after boarding, they climbed out in the financial district. They walked to the street, caught an air cab to a local bar, and sat down to have a couple of drinks.

“I have never seen Marines move that fast before.” Nance said, sipping her brew.

“If they had known what had happened, they might have come in with shoot on sight orders.” Amidala replied. They stayed in the bar for three drinks, then caught a cab back to the mag lev line. This time they went past their target. Marines with scanners wee checking everyone leaving or arriving.

*****

The Admiral rubbed his forehead. “Now explain again why I almost got arrested for bad debts?”

The Paymaster Lieutenant sighed. “Sir, whoever tried to access our payroll section used a sophisticated worm program what would have transferred cash directly from everyone’s accounts-”

“Everyone’s?”

“Yes sir. But it’s a subtle little bug. What it does is take just the last centimes from an account. Say your pay is like mine, 400 credits, 43 centimes. This would have rounded it down to 40 centimes instead.

“But you multiply that small change by almost a million Naval and Marine personnel, and it is one large chunk of money.”

“So they failed.”

“Well, yes and no. You see the worm is based on a Coruscanti data mining worm that deletes all data it passes through. In this case, everyone’s payroll records.”

“So you just input the ranks... Why are you shaking your head, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, when they changed the payroll allotment system ten years ago, it was decided to give bonuses for time in service, time in grade, medals of honor, combat time served, etc.”

“I know that.” The Admiral had been able to put a down payment on a house thanks to that new legislation.

“But those files are not kept in payroll, sir. They are in sealed Personnel files. I can’t just pay say every Vice Admiral the same! Some would be satisfied, but you for example would take a 10% pay cut until it’s fixed.”

“Oh hell.” The headache was getting worse. “So what do you suggest?”

“We need to enter all of the data necessary manually. Any attempt to load it by pad or data dump might have segments of the same worm.

“We’re lucky at least that the best man at manually data entry was just assigned to Personnel last week. Nial Cracken.”

“Cracken. I’ve heard that name-” The Admiral snapped his fingers. “About sixty but still a Captain? I was thinking of having a promotion board meet to refuse him a star. He’s already... Again with the head shaking?”

“Sir, there’s a reason he hasn’t had that second board. You see, he started as an enlisted man. He only made Captain about five years ago. When the board met the first time, he didn’t get his star because he isn’t what you would call a political genius. More of a ‘beat on it until the problem is solved type’. So he didn’t get an assignment to Staff or Tactical Studies Group. Both needed if you want a command above a company. They decided to have a second board the next year, but the Bursar in chief sat on that one and had his name pulled. After he explained why they agreed.”

“Why?” It was pretty much a military axiom that it’s either up or out. If two promotion boards met and turned you down, you were supposed to resign.

“Sir, he has the Blood Stripe, two Naval Medals of Honor-”

“Two? You mean two mentions.” The Admiral said.

“No sir. Two distinct awards ten years apart. Both for Valor. He also has Two Parliamentary Crosses, also for valor.”

The admiral suddenly saw where this was going. “With a lifetime stipend each.”

“Yes, sir. 5% of his salary every month for life. But if he resigns or retires, that not only goes up to 10% each, but there are the promotions as well. Each of those medals had an automatic promotion of one rank upon retirement.”

“So what? We pay him a Brigadier’s...” The Admiral watched the lieutenant shake his head.

“No sir. Each medal give him one step up the ladder. We had the same argument with the Parliamentary fifteen years ago when Fleet Admiral Freido Dodonna retired. He was supposed to get a promotion for both of his medals, but there wasn’t a rank to raise it to. That is why he is paid more than the Prime Minister.”

“And this Captain...”

“Would be paid a Fleet Admiral’s salary, along with time in service bonuses plus 50% additional pay above that. He would be getting paid more than the two senior officers in the entire Navy combined. As you can see, the promotion board didn’t want to force him into retirement.

“As it is he got the first PMC eight weeks out of boot camp at the age of 20 for the Bertrand incident and racked up three of the five before he was 25. Right now he draws more pay than you do, sir.”

The Admiral glared at him. “So this Admiral except for his stars is the best why?”

“He has a slight problem speaking when he’s dealing with a computer. He stutters, mumbles, digresses, that kind of thing. He learned to use a Keyboard back when they were still standard, and can type just under 100 words a minute. Give him the Fleet list, have him go through personnel files and pull the necessary data to send to Payroll, and we can be back on track before the next pay period.”

“But that’s pretty sensitive data.” The Admiral hedged. “What 90% of fleet has their pay deposited directly?”

“Sir, he’s not smart enough to be a good thief, sir.”

*****

Cracken tapped the annunciator on his desk. “Cracken, Personnel.”

“Captain, please hold for Admiral Wainwright.” The voice said. A moment later, he heard the Admiral. Since there was no viewscreen on his desk, Cracken allowed himself a smile.

“Cracken?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you heard about the payroll problem?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We need the necessary data passed to Payroll ASAP.”

Cracken counted mentally. Right before Wainwright could snarl he said, “Sir, since the officer’s data is more sensitive, I will pass off enlisted records and first 3 Officer’s ranks to my senior staff, if that is acceptable. We may be delayed by the normal requests we get, but they will handle those as well.” And you don’t give a damn about some E2 fresh caught boot getting paid when it’s you that gets arrested for failure to pay debts. He didn’t add.

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Wainwright’s voice sounded like someone that had just seen a pet do a trick he hadn’t been taught. “By the end of the week?”

“If I start at the top and work down, I’d say ten days, sir.” Which means only Naval Captains commanders along with Marine Colonels have problems. But that doesn’t bother you either.

“Then you had best get to it.”

Cracken told his staff what they had to do, Called half a dozen different departments for loans of clerks, and had the senior officer records transferred to his terminal. He began as he had said, at the Fleet Admiral.

The payroll department needed a lot of data. Dates of entry rank combat and service commands, medals, and when they had been awarded.

What a lot of people didn’t realize was that promotion boards had to file written decisions, with signatures. Having funds directly deposited gave the discerning a record of how much money went through your banks accounts. Each page was looked at by the patient man, and set aside.

He could hear groans from the records sections outside. All they heard was the machine gun click of his keyboard.

*****

Nance looked up as the robed figure approached. The man sat, his whiskey disappearing into the hood. “According to fleet Security, a bunch of Coruscanti immigrant kids broke into the fleet records section.” He looked at Rath. “That was pure genius.”

“Thanks.” Rath replied. “To tell you the truth, if I’d known how close we would come to getting caught, I would have jacked up the price to 1.5 split.”

“One question. Whose idea was it to ding the credit reports on the Admirals and Generals so they would end up with dunning notices?”

The pair looked at each other.

“Neither one of us really like officer-” Nance began.

“-Especially those with stars-” Rath added.

“-So it was both of us actually.” Nance finished.

The robed figure looked from face to face. Then set down a bag a little larger than his hand. “The bonus is for the most fun I have had in years.” He stood, and left.

Nance called for the scale. Silently they tested each stone

“Son of a bitch.” Nance said when they had been counted.

“Like he read my mind.” Rath said.

They had been paid a million five.

:lol:
Too much fun. Dunning notices, indeed.
I love it when master spies get things done because everyone completely misjudges them as twits.

I had the most fun because something like this could really screw up any military organization. There is an old saying that you don't dare mess with the payroll clerk, because he'll lose your check, and it will take a small forever to get it reissued.

That was an awesome chapter. I think I have an idea who the faceless robed figure in the Wraith Cantina was. But seriously, that's some great intrigue in that chapter! Well done! :clap2:

Scattered petals.

Padawan Yaka of Ithor came out of hyperspace, running in toward Coruscant. Clearance was granted gladly. Padawans Carola and Costi met briefly with the local Council, then were taken to the Coruscant Special Intelligence service where they briefed in Maygar Phelp. The man was new, obviously a political appointee, but just as obviously willing to admit when he was out of his depth. The three senior men, all old time intelligence agents waited until Admiral Lucas arrived with his small staff, and the Jedi were debriefed. As were the Corellians, they were alarmed that ordinance still on the secrets list had somehow been sold, and were willing to assist.

Unfortunately a trade war of sorts had begun between the two planets. To facilitate communications, the Jedi were asked to be the message bearers so that the Chancellor (Who had been informed of the investigation but not it’s scope) could claim plausible deniability.

Once done, they slept, then took off for Bothuwai.

*****

“Master Gretu of Triseki Requesting approach clearance.” Padawan Samsun asked.

“Nar Shaddaa approach control to Jedi courier Master Gretu of Triseki. Permission granted. Welcome to Nar Shaddaa.”

“That was easy.” Samsun said.

“Easy it should not be.’ Yodai grumbled. “Congregate here many who think law is for others. Letting us arrive unremarked not possible.”

“So whoever we’re looking for will know.”

“Arrived we have, yes they will. Why matter different.” Yodai grinned. “Like thieves they are, all will look to affairs part of they are. Relax they will if look at their affairs we do not. Drubba the Hutt in businesses many. Look at them instead of ships.”

Samsun had been with Yodai long enough to be able to translate his way of speaking. “So we investigate things Drubba has only a peripheral interest in?”

“Yes. But lead to our objective all trails will, accidentally.”

“Okay, so smuggling?”

“Smuggling, spice sales, slaves, all transport need. Registry of ships search for these. At same time, find where ships come from we do.”

“As if it would be that simple.”

“Lucky you are.”

“Why?”

“Hutt knows humans animals are not.” Yodai looked at him. “Had ready leash and collar.”

*****

Padawan Sani of Naboo arrived at Ryloth. The situation was if anything worse than the others faced. Corellia and Coruscant might not be on speaking terms, and the Hutt had so many fingers in so many pies that they themselves might not be able to resolve the situation.

But Ryloth had turned away from the others out of what appeared to be merely pique. The new Premier, Merio Lassa had almost immediately fired every senior Twi-lek who even seemed to like the humans. Oh it wasn’t the screaming dismissal you might have expected. Twi-lek politics was always cognizant that whoever was on top today would very well be on the bottom tomorrow. The replaced people were promoted into positions of responsibility, just away from where they would deal directly with out worlders.

The permission to land was curt. The Jedi did not have a Monastery here, and only the fact that Kreil was himself Twi-lek seemed to be the determining factor.

“How shall we handle this?” Kreil asked as he shut down the systems.

“If you speak to Bib Wanatagi it would probably go unremarked. However by the same token Kalo Fortuna is an agent handler. Seeing him with a human would also deserve little scrutiny.” Reyes ordered.

*****

The restaurant was, in the words of a human friend, a dive. Kreil, who had problems with the human tendency to euphemisms, wondered what they were supposed to dive into.

It was locate less than half a kilometer from the Offices of the Navy Directorate, and according to sources, the place Wanatagi went to for lunch. Though after looking at the menu, Kreil wasn’t sure what was so good about the food.

He recognized Watanagi as he came in. The man went to the bar, picked up an already poured drink, and headed for a table nearby.

Kreil stiffened, reaching for his sword when a voice behind him spoke. “Very poor tradecraft.“ commented the woman in Twi-leki. He started to turn, but something nudged him in the back. “I wouldn’t do that. Blood is so hard to get out of the floorboards. Move over to your right, into the booth.”

Kreil stood, walking over to the curtained booth. He drew the curtain aside, stepping in and to the right sharply. The weapon continued on, and he grabbed it, pulling the woman off balance. He tapped her on the shoulder, spinning her around so she landed on her butt in a chair.

The ‘weapon’ was a human designed cane. He looked it over. No trigger or stud, no signs that it could be broken down to load ammunition. He looked again, then squeezed the metal ferrule. There was a hiss, and a small metal dart stuck in the wall.

“Interesting.” He held it in both hands before him. “Why did you threaten me?”

“I was watching you. When Wanatagi came in, you were immediately alert.”

He handed her the cane. “I came here hoping to meet him.” He turned his back. “If wishing to meet him is a reason to kill me, then do so.”

He could almost sense her confusion. Then the curtain opened, and Wanatagi entered. The officer looked past him. “Either use it or put that damn thing away, Morilli.” He snapped.

Kreil heard the tap of the cane hitting the floor. “I wasn‘t sure what was going on.” She said defensively. “This Krasmeh was watching for you to arrive-”

“I have not insulted your family. Must my mother bear such an insult?” Kreil demanded.

Wanatagi looked at him levelly. “I am sure your mother danced for her husband, friend. May I ask why meeting me was this important?”

“I am Jedi.” Kreil replied. “I was given your name through the daughter of a friend.”

“That friend being?”

“Holani Solo.”

“Ah.” Wanatagi nodded. “And she sent you why?”

Kreil handed him the chip. “Because your government and Corellia are not on speaking terms, and giving this to your superior would merely mean it was thrown away unopened.”

“What is this concerning?”

“A Crasbashti class corvette known to be in the hands of pirates.”

Wanatagi sighed, slipping the chip into a pad. “And what do you expect me to do about it?”

“You still have connections. Could you investigate without being noticed?”

The look Wanatagi gave him was cold. “The day one of those paper pushers catches me, you can expect my resignation.”

Kreil bowed his head. “I did not mean to insult your honor.”

The intelligence agent sighed. “I am sorry that I took it in such a manner. Jedi are not known for their cutting words.” He looked to the woman. “Morilli, please get us some drinks.”

“What about-”

“My girl, or assignation will have to wait another day.” He reached up, brushing her Lekku, and she shivered. “I regret that more than you. But our planet needs my energies at this moment. Forgive me?”

“Always.” Her eyes were lambent, and Kreil wondered if she was going to tackle him and have her way even with a witness. She gave the agent one more smoky glance, and went out.

“A very... spirited woman.” Kreil commented.

“And well supplied with what nature gives.” Wanatagi agreed. “Now if you will excuse me...” He read the file swiftly. Like Holani Solo, he read it more than once. However any notes he might have made were in his head.

“So a station that was once ours harbors these thugs. They are shipping weapons they should not have access to, including warships.”

“Not only of yours but Coruscanti and Corellian as well.” Kreil agreed. “We of the Jedi are the only conduit between the three powers. Yet not even we can speak directly to the Premier. There are too few of our race in the order. If they send a human, the first thought she will have is not of the order, but which planet birthed them. If they sent me, she would ignore it because in her opinion I am merely repeating what some human has told me to say.”

“Your council cuts to the quick.” Wanatagi commented. He leaned back, considering. “The Corellians and Coruscanti both have embassies, but delivering this to them would be a red flag to our own intelligence. What would you suggest?”

“The Bothans.”

“Intriguing. May I ask why?”

“The Bothans have always been circumspect. They tend to be extremely inquisitive, most would say nosy- but their banking institutions seem to find ways to direct that into fruitful labor.

“For a small fee, the Bothans will send correspondence that is as well protected as any diplomatic pouch. Better in fact because they will hunt down and kill anyone who tries to break into it. Since this fact is known to anyone who might want to steal it, merely putting it into the bank’s hands ensures delivery except for natural disasters.

“They have their own courier in orbit, or will have one here before too long. You know how they are.” Everyone did. The Bothans were well known for their integrity.

“And who pays for these messages?”

Kreil drew a card from his pocket. “Give this to the Bank manager. It will cover such communications at the rate of one a day for the next decade.”

Wanatagi took the card. “A lot of money to trust me with. Are you sure-”

“Oh please.” Kreil laughed. “If I gave you nothing, you would complain that you are ill-used, but do it anyway, I offer enough to pay for more than we need, and you act as if you are ready to pocket the household silver!” He shook his head. “A game you play so well from how you have done it. If I did not trust your integrity, I could have handed you this one.” He reached into an other pocket. The cards were identical. “This one is enough for perhaps three months. Then we would have had to set up more meets.”

“You really trust me that much?”

“Of course not. An intelligence agents always squirrels things away for a rainy day. I didn’t even mention returning the card, now did I?” Kreil smiled. “I am sure that there will be other things the Jedi might wish to be informed of. If we are informed as needed during that time, we are well paid.”

Wanatagi looked up as Morilli entered. She glowered at them, setting the drinks down. “Nothing for yourself?”

She grumbled, flouncing into the seat. Wanatagi ran a finger up her arm. “We still have time for... something before I have to return to the office.”

Kreil slid another data chip across. “Look at this. If I am right, your can take half a shift off claiming to have compiled it.”

Wanatagi looked askance at him, then slid the chip into the pad. He froze as it scrolled, then leaned forward. “A major slaving ring? Here?”

“Yes. We Jedi collect a lot of odd data that means nothing to us, but will to people such as you. Why not enjoy your time with your paramour?”

“Oh indeed yes.” Wanatagi grinned like a shark. “I think I shall.”

*****
When Kalo Fortuna got a request to meet a human, he picked the spot. There weren’t that many off worlders on the planet, and most were followed by internal intelligence constantly. This one however had not only slipped his leash, but passed a message that he would be interested in talking to an agent handler. Internal intelligence still didn’t know how the man had escaped their surveillance. The man who should have been watching him couldn’t explain how the message for this meet had ended up in his pocket.

Fortuna had chosen the place, a small dining establishment in the heart of the city. It was his own private joke that the location was less than a kilometer from the local prison.

As any good agent would he arrived early, slipping in through the back door. The kitchen help ignored him once he flashed his badge, and turned to their work. At the back of the dining area were several booths that used electronic imaging and suppression, so he could sit there and be totally ignored. To the naked eye, the booth was unoccupied, and once he had sat down, sensors notified the owners that it was in use, so no one would be seated there.

He was a little irked to discover that the human was already there. He had been early, the human must have been half an hour or more early. Silently Fortuna watched him. The human was merely sitting there, drinking tea as if he had not a care in the world. His clothing

An hour passed, but except for getting his tea refilled, the human did nothing. It was as if he had nothing to do but sit and swill tea until the heat death of the universe.

Finally Fortuna sighed, scored a mental note for the man, and stepped from his booth.

The instant he stood, before he had even moved, the man looked up. As if he could see through some of the most expensive and efficient anti-spying software ever made. Then his head dropped again, and he read the pad before him, allowing Fortuna to approach supposedly unremarked.

“You do know that an internal security agent has been fired because of you.”

“I should hope not. Not many can follow a Jedi unless he allows it.” The man replied. “I would hope that you are Kalo Fortuna?”

“Yes I am. As if you did not know.”

The human turned the pad. The picture was one of those taken in bad light at a great distance, then enhanced. It was definitely a Twi-lek, but nothing else could be verified from it. “As you can see, the Corellians didn’t have much. Having been told about you, and being what and who you are, I would have been astonished if anyone had ever gotten a proper vid shot of you.”

“Not since my fifth birth anniversary.” Fortuna admitted. “I never stand still long enough.”

“And you are considered one of the best at what you do by someone I think is a good judge of such capabilities.”

“Does this paragon have a name?”

“Holani Solo.”

“Ah, the Black eminence herself.”

“Shouldn’t that be a gray eminence?”

“Not if you know her legend as well as mine. A gray eminence is behind the scenes, shifting the pegs to make the pattern they want through others. Our dear madam Solo will do it that way, but preferred ‘fixing’ the problem with a little hands on work in a lot of cases. “They made her your Director of Operations because she always had a nasty penchant of getting her hands dirty.”

“Not mine.” Reyes replied levelly. “I am Corellian by birth, but I have my own allegiances.”

“A Corporate one perhaps?”

“No. My allegiance is to the Force.”

“Ah. A Jedi.” Fortuna looked at the man levelly. “You asked for this meet, and there are a number of people above me that will wonder why.” He looked toward a waiter, signaling. “If it is all right with you, I would like something to eat. After all, you did interrupt my lunch.”

“By all means. And you can call off the three men with weapons who are waiting to arrest me when I step out as well.”

“Very good. I would have to grade you as adequate.”

“Is that all?” The human looked at him with a wide eyed innocence that caused Fortuna to laugh. “Because I didn’t mention the police cruiser two kilometers overhead, the four squads of tactical response police within 400 meters of the doors? Perhaps if I mention the transmitter attached to your-”

“Enough. Your grade is excellent. May I know who I have praised so?”

“Tolomeo Reyes. Padawan Teacher.”

“I will make a note that your order has learned to excel in this work.”

“I expected you would. Master Jondri at Coruscant will be pleased.”

“He was such a scamp when I hunted him. It is nice to know he remembers me fondly.”

“Especially when it is cold.” Reyes told him. “They had to rebuild both of his legs before he joined the order. They hurt when in winter.”

“I left him alive. Let him know that.” They paused in the conversation as a bowl of soup appeared. “So, stun me with the acumen, Jedi. Convince me that it is worth my while. And as you are at it, consider that everything you tell me will reach the ears of my superiors.”

Reyes slid across a data chip. “That is why we supposedly met. But I am asking you to tell no one why we have met unless you are willing to trust them with your life.”

Fortuna loaded the chip, reading it. “So there are slavers. This we knew.”

“But who and what group they are preying on, you did not.” Reyes snapped. “To know for sure who to investigate will give your superiors a chance to show their worth.”

“There is that. So tell me, what is this my superiors must not know?“

Reyes slipped across the next chip, and Fortuna read it as well.

“So.“ He hissed. “I may have what I need to repay an old debt.” He slid the chips into his pocket. “The owner of Ryloth Shipyards is an old enemy. His company manufactures those ships. If I can prove he knew anything...”

“We need to discover who before you score your revenge.” Reyes warned. “Other people are also affected.”

“And how can we communicate this to you?”

“The Bothans.”

Glad to see you back in writing action. I was beginning to despair of another chapter, it had been so long. Well, maybe not _that_ long, but long enough. :)

One thing--this paragraph stops abruptly:

"He was a little irked to discover that the human was already there. He had been early, the human must have been half an hour or more early. Silently Fortuna watched him. The human was merely sitting there, drinking tea as if he had not a care in the world. His clothing"

Thought you'd want to know that to finish the sentence. I'm one of those people who enjoy the little background details.

Holani reminds me more and more of Mary Pat (one of my favorite Clancy characters). :D

Holani is a bit of Mary Pat, and a lot of Modesty Blaise.

Glad to see you back in writing action. I was beginning to despair of another chapter, it had been so long. Well, maybe not _that_ long, but long enough. :)

Sorry. I have another story (Defined as erotic fiction) that also caught my interest. Add to that that we've just gone broadband and the system is still giving us fits, and there you are...

“Yes. We Jedi collect a lot of odd data that means nothing to us, but will to people such as you. Why not enjoy your time with your paramour?”
I learned a new word today and as a result made it my personal Word of the Day! Thanks, machievelli!
paramour
n. A lover, especially one in an adulterous relationship.
He was a little irked to discover that the human was already there. He had been early, the human must have been half an hour or more early. Silently Fortuna watched him. The human was merely sitting there, drinking tea as if he had not a care in the world. His clothing

An hour passed, but except for getting his tea refilled, the human did nothing. It was as if he had nothing to do but sit and swill tea until the heat death of the universe. Jae Onasi already mentioned this but did something get accidentally cut from this passage?

I think I need to go back and read this story from the beginning. I seem to have lost track of what is going on. The governments of Corellia and Coruscant have been warned of the weapons as well as the Iridian plague. Now Ryloth (Twi'lek home planet?) is getting into the mix too. Although it appears that all three planets must keep their investigations on the down-low and only include trusted individuals because it would take corruption at some of the highest levels of government for these weapons to get into the hands of pirates. That summarizes what I've got thus far.

Add to that that we've just gone broadband and the system is still giving us fits, and there you are... Welcome to the Internet the way it's supposed to be. You know what they say, right? "Once you go broadband, you never go back." ;)

I think I need to go back and read this story from the beginning. I seem to have lost track of what is going on. The governments of Corellia and Coruscant have been warned of the weapons as well as the Iridian plague. Now Ryloth (Twi'lek home planet?) is getting into the mix too. Although it appears that all three planets must keep their investigations on the down-low and only include trusted individuals because it would take corruption at some of the highest levels of government for these weapons to get into the hands of pirates. That summarizes what I've got thus far.

Actually it's three version of the same problem. On Corellia you have a head of Civilian intelligence who is corrupt or incompetent (It happens a lot in real life) and an ONI where the head is anticipating problems. On Coruscant you will notice everything flowed in one chunk. ONI and Local counter-intelligence working together.

On Ryloth, it is another situation. It isn't that they don't trust everyone. It's a matter that the goverments aren't talking. So the investigations start at a lower level, and the upper echelons get draged into it.

Note all of the governments have ships (Lerger than snub fighter) in use by the pirates.

Welcome to the Internet the way it's supposed to be. You know what they say, right? "Once you go broadband, you never go back." ;)

Great. Except for the modem deciding it doesn't exist, e-mail that refuses to let you in, a web browser that will not load, and changing all mail over, I'm doing great.

Once you get it going right, though, you'll be amazed at how fast everything seems.
I switched over to Firefox for the browser--works better for LF, seems to load a little faster. The tabbed browsing is cool, too--I don't have a bunch of open windows anymore, which is nice, especially when I'm trying to research and want to compare things between a few sites and then write something down in Word.

Once you get it going right, though, you'll be amazed at how fast everything seems.
I switched over to Firefox for the browser--works better for LF, seems to load a little faster. The tabbed browsing is cool, too--I don't have a bunch of open windows anymore, which is nice, especially when I'm trying to research and want to compare things between a few sites and then write something down in Word.

So far my wife and stepdaughter can get in. But neither account, mine as master, and the sub account I created tell me I don't exist.

The trap is sprung

The ship arrived with the flash of a burned out hyper drive. The ships operating around Thule noticed it, and the faces were ecstatic. A nice ripe prize had just dropped into their laps.

But this gaffed fish could bite back...

“There are the Wasps.” The censor officer reported. “The Crasbashti Is not here at the moment, neither is Prince of Peace but right there-“ He haloed a target “Is a target that fits the data for Sunspot.” He hummed, working, then tapped another blip. “Their orbital station. Pretty good sized. Coruscanti design.”

Captain Dodonna leaned over his shoulder. “Three out of five isn’t too bad. We intended to hang around long enough to get them anyway, assuming they aren’t gone too long.” She thumbed the intercom. “Engineering, give us ten percent, but intermittent. We just suffered a major engineering casualty.”

“What should we be able to see?” Breia asked.

The sensor officer tapped a red line on the display. “That is commercial sensors against something not emitting. The blue line is what we would pick up if they are emitting with the civvie equipment, and this green line is where they would pick us up on passive.” The blips of the warships were well inside the last circle, but still outside the blue one.

“So we can’t see them, or at least they think.”

“Correct.”

Freya stood back, turning to the silent Jedi behind her. “Well, ladies. To work.”

*****

To the unsuspecting, it was the perfect trap. The huge freighter stumbled along, plaintively asking for help. The station contacted them first, chiding them along, telling them that a small squadron of the Corellian Navy was in system, and would render aid when they could. Sunspot had moved closer to the station.

But to the all seeing eyes of military grade hardware, it was a different story. The two Wasps had done a slow turn to come up behind them, all of it silently. The readings on Sunspot showed an additional fusion generator being brought on line. Preparation for an attack.

The crew of the Merchant raider were on alert. Down below, the Marines were getting into their armor and checking their weapons.

*****

“I will be going with you, Commander.” The helmeted Jedi commented. The Voder gave her a female voice, but it was harsh, metallic. She wore a blood red skin suit, good enough for vacuum, but nothing compared to the hell of modern day warfare. As armor went she might as well have been nude.

“Commander Devries of the Corellian Marines sighed. “Ma’am, I don’t have anyone escort you-”

“I do not need an escort, commander. I can take care of myself.”

The commander had to admit she probably could. He had watched her sparring with the other Jedi, and both had been impressive, faster than anyone he had seen with a sword. But... “Ma’am, I don’t know how many boarding actions you have been on-”

“This will be my second.” She replied. “My first was at Alpha 4 with the 7th MAF.”

“You were there?” He looked at her. “What were, you, eighteen?”

“Fifteen.”

He nodded slowly. “All right, Ma’am, you can go. But if you get killed it’s your own damn fault.”

*****

Unlike an assault transport, which is designed to take damage as it goes in, a Merchantman is fragile. It doesn’t have the heavy decks needed to support assault shuttles and their fighter escort. Instead, a designer had come up with a unique idea. There is a bird native on Corellia that hung head down, wrapping itself in it’s wings like a cigar. When it flew it would let go, dropping until it gained speed, then the wings would snap out.

So the fighters and Assault shuttles were anchored to the central core like lethal grapes, the cargo bays left open, and ready. Instead of the usual winches, the main bay hatches were anchored with explosive bolts and rocket pack. Now six hundred Marines waited in 14 shuttles, along with thirteen additional pilots for the signal to go.

The ship finally staggered into orbit, approaching the station. The ‘naval squadron’ had split, one to either beam on the approach. The officer commanding the station started to lean into the console, ready to make his demands when suddenly the ship seemed to explode outward. Guns popped out of hidden ports along both sides, and he just had time to recognize assault shuttles when the world seemed to explode.

*****

The Corellian navy had looked at the problem like this; Not every pirate used commercial vessels. A lot of them recently had been picking up the odd warship, and the guns a merchant usually carried were too light to do more than scratch their paint. Worse, if you ended up at war, the enemy obviously had warships, and you knew they would snap up the occasional merchantman. But a Merchant Raider’s job was to take out the enemy. Capture his shipping, protect your own, and if you went toe to toe with the big boys, make sure they remembered the fight, and not fondly.

You need guns, lots of guns, the bigger, the better.

Then again, any kind of projectile takes time to reach it’s target. Any sensor officer worth his rating would see them, and they would return fire. A merchant was frightfully fragile, and one broadside from even a corvette would shatter it. So projectile weapons were out.

Instead of regular guns, Star Trader carried a dozen laser-energy weapons in each broadside. Mixed laser and particle beam, they had massive throughput, meaning most of the energy put into the system came out the muzzle. Since they were light speed weapons, it also meant that the first you knew about them firing was the impact. Since the ships were on opposite sides, that meant that two dozen beams were fired, twelve at each.

One of the Wasps rang like the bell from hell as the equivalent of a ton of explosives ripped through her hull where each beam hit. The beam caused the hull to flash into plasma which ravaged the compartments beyond. The aim had been as well as expected. But after all, the Corellian crew knew the specifications of ships they were firing at, and that helps a lot in such situations. The ship to port fell away, engines destroyed, power cut to the weapons. The other had turned at the last moment, and the beam that sliced into her engine room struck the fusion bottle. It vanished with it’s entire crew in a ball of flame.

A dozen fighters and a Corellian Shadow class courier roared away from the ship, arcing past the station, running down on Sunspot. They outstripped the assault shuttles which had divided, four of them headed for the wounded corvette, the rest screaming in toward the station.

With her more dangerous opponents out of action, the merchantman turned, and her guns began to pick away the chain gun and laser turrets they had already mapped hours ago. It was easier than you might imagine, since the station commander hadn’t expected to be attacked, and they were all on standby. Almost the instant the shuttles would have hit it, the last weapons were smoking divots.

*****

Sienna bounced against the restraints as the shuttle plowed into the station, ripping it’s way almost it’s entire length into the structure.

“Go!” Devries screamed, and panels blew out. The Marines poured out, securing the area as the pilot backed jets, backing the shuttle out of the hole before the automatic systems could seal it in like a bug in amber.

Sienna moved through the fluctuating gravity as if it were steady, raising her hand to halt the advance.

“What are you playing at?” A sergeant screamed at her. She pulled out a flat metal star, throwing it down the passageway ahead of them. It had traveled less than three meters before guns roared along it’s length. The metal hit the deck hammered into something that might have been displayed in a surrealistic art show.

“They don’t want to play obviously.” She drew her sword, cutting into the bulkhead beside the passageway. Moving down through the access way she was cutting, she threw the now disabled sensors out. She backed up, repeating the action on the other side. A second star imbedded itself in the end of the passageway.

“The way is clear now.”

“Sorry.”

“The 7th didn’t think I could do it either.” She said. “Follow me.”

*****

"Pirate vessel, this is Padawan Breia Solo of the Jedi Order. You will shut down you engines and prepare to be boarded. You have ten seconds to comply.” She watched the glittering web of fighters that spun around the ship. If they had fled earlier-

“Hyper drive warning!” Someone shouted. They had lit off their hyper drive. Less than ten seconds...

“Fire!”

Three of the fighters bored in, their guns ripping through the hull plating. The ship staggered, then opened up like a lethal flower.

*****

Sienna ducked, her sword snapping up to remove the hand of someone who had been foolish enough to wait for the spearhead. She grabbed his clothes, slamming her head into his with a bone jarring thump. Her helmet saved her from any pain. The same couldn’t be said for her victim. He collapsed, and she motioned for a Marine to move forward and bind him.

“Come on! Do you want to live forever?” She roared.

With a roar, the Marines ran forward. Resistance was crumbling everywhere. Without her presence, the butcher’s bill in the booby-trapped corridors others had found had been high. But her quick action, and their reporting of it to other units had kept the losses down.

She ran forward, outpacing her escorts, arriving at the command center door. She plunged the blade into the bulkhead beside it, and cut swiftly. With a crash a section two meters to a side fell outward.

The station commander spun around and wanted to scream. Wanted to turn again and push the button that would blow the station into shards.

But when he saw the figure in blood red armor with a scarlet helmet step almost daintily through that newly cut hole and approach him, his resolve died. He could tell it was a woman. Hell, in a skin suit, you can tell if a man is happy or not. But there was nothing in that walk, that stance, that bared sword that spoke of a nurturing nature.

It was a nightmare from hell. A war goddess come to play. If he blew the station, somehow he knew it wouldn’t stop her. She would follow him through every afterlife and she would find him.

The station commander took one look at the monster heading toward him and threw down his side arm. She slowed, raising the point of her sword, and he clasped his hands behind his neck, falling to his knees.

“Commander, when this is over, you and I will have a talk.” A breathy rasp told him.

The Marines with their lethal looking weapons were almost a relief.

*****

Through the station in intercoms and com units blared.

“This is Padawan Dodonna of the Jedi Order. As of this moment, any armed pirate will be killed without being given the chance to surrender. That is all.” The voice was not wheedling or triumphant. It was a flat metallic growl that reached down into the hindbrain of every man aboard and said Yes, I will kill you all. I have no further patience.

Men that had considered a last ditch fight, that thought to bury their teeth in a throat before they died felt their bowels loosen. They threw down their weapons, stepped into view, and knelt with their hands behind their heads.

*****

“Second company reports the surviving Wasp has been taken. Casualties among our people are light.”

“Commander Fourth MAF reports the station is ours.”

Freya looked up from her command chair. “Survivors from the other two ships?”

“None, ma’am. The Wasp and the Prince of Peace were both destroyed with all hands.”

She sighed. The modifications that had given her enough space to house a Marine Battalion and the fighters had been thrown in at the last minute, but she figured it was worth it now. A merchant raider fighting warships, even small ones was too much like nuclear weapons at ten paces.

“Contact the fighters. Tell those lunatics to come in slow and let our cables drag them in.”

*****

Breia settled her courier in on the captured station. She looked at the outfit Sienna had suggested. It was the same skin suit and helmet Sienna wore, but in a solid unrelieved black. A visage that would strike terror.

She sighed, and changed. The helmet was restrictive to view, but looking at herself in a mirror, she knew it was what they wanted to do. Convince the surviving pirates that not even hell would save them from vengeance.

The Marines looked at her, helmet cradled under her arm. One of them chuckled.

“Something funny sergeant?” The tone was not cold or demanding. It was a friend asking another friend what the joke was.

“Ma’am, Do you watch crime dramas?”

“Not really. I have been too busy learning my trade.”

“Well there’s a phrase they use in questioning. ‘good cop, bad cop’. Know it?”

“I understand the concept, yes.”

“Well you two, your ‘bad cop even meaner cop‘.”

She looked at her attire, thinking of them, black and red, not yin and yang but both aspects of the same thing, and each terrible.

She understood now. It wasn’t like the Corellian personnel didn’t know what she looked like. But that the enemy did not. Meeting not two women, they meet two faceless monsters that would not show pity or restraint. Creatures that would want answers, not excuses.

She looked at the sergeant, bowing her head with a shy smile. “Sergeant, would you be frightened of me in my normal clothes?”

“Only if I had a brain, ma’am. I’ve seen you fight.”

“This is just a costume.” She waved toward the suit. “When I am done, I take it off and hope to all the gods I never wear it again.”

“Ma’am, as much as barristers talk about the rights of the criminals, I remember the faces of those they murdered. You want to hang him up by tender parts, I’ll find a place to attach the line, and haul him up at your order.” His face was bleak.

“Sergeant, you and I will have a drink afterward, and a talk. I think you’ve been doing this too long.”

He looked at her askance. “Like you haven’t?”

She bowed her head, acknowledging the hit, and lifted the helmet, sliding it on until it clicked on it’s locking ring. Her voice was different from Sienna’s the voder set for a mezzo soprano. “We both need a rest, sergeant. Maybe we could take a quiet leisurely cruise on the ocean, you and I.”

“Together?”

“Why not?”

“Padawan!” She turned back. “What would my wife say?”

“Bring her along.” She left, leaving him confused.

*****

Thoughts ran through the Station manager’s head. How could he keep them confused, make them look the wrong way? The monster had sent him off to the cells, and he didn’t think any Corellian officer would allow...

The hatch opened. A blank faced Marine motioned, escorting him down to the interrogation room. He was motioned toward a chair, and he took it. The silence was starting to get unnerving. The opposite hatch opened and the Scarlet horror walked in.

Sienna saw the look on his face. If he had been on a heart monitor, the needle would have spiked clear through the top of the machine. She stood there, arms crossed, watching him.

The strain stretched his nerves like meat through a grinder. He wanted to scream, to start the questions, to beg for his life. Anything!

He showed it with bravado. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

The hatch opened again. This horror was an ebon presence that seemed to suck all of the light out of the room.

“Waiting for my associate.” The Scarlet one replied. “Now, we have questions, and you will give us the answers. One way or another.”

Nicely done. I enjoyed how you described both strategy and tactics and the reasons certain methods were employed in this clash. Very well done.
The sensor officer tapped a red line on the display. “That is commercial sensors against something not emitting. The blue line is what we would pick up if they are emitting with the civvie equipment, and this green line is where they would pick us up on passive.” The blips of the warships were well inside the last circle, but still outside the blue one.

“So we can’t see them, or at least they think.” I'm not sure I properly understand this passage. The pirate ships were inside the green circle (military sensor range?) but outside the blue circle(civilian sensor range?). So the pirate ships had military sensors but thought the "Trojan horse" merchant vessel only had civilian-grade sensors and so were staying out of the Trojan horse's civilian sensor range?
But when he saw the figure in blood red armor with a scarlet helmet step almost daintily through that newly cut hole and approach him, his resolve died. He could tell it was a woman. Hell, in a skin suit, you can tell if a man is happy or not. But there was nothing in that walk, that stance, that bared sword that spoke of a nurturing nature.

It was a nightmare from hell. A war goddess come to play. If he blew the station, somehow he knew it wouldn’t stop her. She would follow him through every afterlife and she would find him. In this section it seems like Sienna used her Force ability to influence minds on the station commander to prevent him from blowing up the space station. Is she also using this ability when she broadcasts over the intercom that all armed pirates will be shot without hesitation? Based off the remaining pirates' reaction I would think so but I find it hard to believe she can influence minds en masse like this.
She bowed her head, acknowledging the hit, and lifted the helmet, sliding it on until it clicked on it’s locking ring. Her voice was different from Sienna’s the voder set for a mezzo soprano. “We both need a rest, sergeant. Maybe we could take a quiet leisurely cruise on the ocean, you and I.”

“Together?”

“Why not?”

“Padawan!” She turned back. “What would my wife say?”

“Bring her along.” She left, leaving him confused.Superb innuendo in this passage, heh-heh-heh. :brow:

Nicely done. I enjoyed how you described both strategy and tactics and the reasons certain methods were employed in this clash. Very well done.
I'm not sure I properly understand this passage. The pirate ships were inside the green circle (military sensor range?) but outside the blue circle(civilian sensor range?). So the pirate ships had military sensors but thought the "Trojan horse" merchant vessel only had civilian-grade sensors and so were staying out of the Trojan horse's civilian sensor range?

That is correct. The assumption by the pirates is a logical one. It's a merchant ship, so it has merchant grade sensors. When they slipped around pretending soerhing else, that showed the crew of raider that they were correct and not about to blow a group of innocent sailors to hell.

[QUOTE=cutmeister]In this section it seems like Sienna used her Force ability to influence minds on the station commander to prevent him from blowing up the space station. Is she also using this ability when she broadcasts over the intercom that all armed pirates will be shot without hesitation? Based off the remaining pirates' reaction I would think so but I find it hard to believe she can influence minds en masse like this.[QUOTE]

Actually I was thinking of psychology, especially in combat in both cases. The English won the battle of Agincourt where 5,000+ faced of against over 35,000 because the French believed themselves to be defeated. The station commander expected a Marine, or Sailor, and instead got something like Darth Vader storming toward him. The fact that it was female merely heightened that terror, because as the Afghan women show, they can be a lot nastier.

When she broadcast from the command center, again it was psychological. She's on your frequency, and is announcing that no quarter will be given. As much as a pirate expects as the old saying goes 'a long drop and a short stop' they would rather take their chances with the justice system rather than with a ticked off field commander.

If you have ever read Goldin's novelization of the Princess bride (Or if you have seen the movie) remember the scene where they charge the 60 men at the gate? In the book they had an additional line which made the scene actually make sense. 'The dread Pirate Roberts leaves no survivors.

Anyone who wants to be a survivor must leave now'.

(Deep Bow)
I am terribly sorry that this is so late in arriving. I have been working on other projects, and one of them, an erotic fairy story in the real world, went from about 40 pages to over 200.

But I have failed you all in not delivering this in a more timely manner.



The Investigation

All Breia had done in that cramped interrogation cell was stand there, arms crossed. Thanks to the helmet, she had not bothered to glare at him. Instead she had listened to a popular piece of music. When she reached a point where it was of the ‘toe-tapping’ type, she had of course tapped her toes. This had a marked effect on the man as well, causing him to stutter, stumble over words, and become frantic.

If she had been writing a doctoral dissertation of psychological reactions, she would have been intrigued, but with nothing to do but be a grim presence, it was merely boring.

Sienna has sat across from him, sternly asking the questions, using that gift of hers that Breia was still learning, to elicit more response when he attempted to lie. It didn’t work on everyone, she had explained. It worked best on the weak minded. But could bring out more truthful responses in almost everyone. She surmised that part of it was the natural ‘lie detector’ that most people had, and which in some Jedi became a highly honed tool.

She had always been able to sense when someone lied before, and it had been suggested by the Masters of the Monastery that this had caused the new effect, being able to actually convince someone to do something they did not want to do. Luckily for most Jedi it was something they had to learn to do, so the few that had gone rogue through the years had not learned it yet.

Cyron Corissi, Manager, had worked for Deriotech Corporation of Coruscant for years, but had been fired when discrepancies had shown up in the accounts he had controlled. He was a gambling addict, and had been caught embezzling corporate funds. His termination was of the rare ‘not suitable for rehire’ type, which would have kept him on the public dole list until he proved worthy again. But his gambling had actually escalated rather than stopped. He had run up debts to a lot of gambling establishments, and a number of those debts were to people that broke bones rather than talking.

Four years earlier, he had been approached by another corporation, one unwilling to tell him who they were, or where they were based. They would cover his debts, pay him a salary, and threatened that the first time he stole would be his last ever. All he had needed was to see one man thrown out of an airlock a week after he was hired to get the message. Threats had done what nothing else could.

He had become the one thing the pirates did not have, a trained manager able to operate in a wide variety of locales, able to set up and run the ground-side support for ships and crews in any port they came upon. He listed ports, front companies, suppliers, names of officers of ships the Pirate operated, and in some cases, even names of ships that had been taken by them.

The base here at Thule had been a recent addition. Five years earlier, a Corporation had put in a cargo handling station. Eight months earlier, the Pirates had hit the station in force. The people of the planet below didn’t even know they had been taken over, though they had wondered why they were under quarantine. The smooth talking Corissi had claimed to be the new station manager, and told them that there was a severe outbreak of Iridian Plague on the trade route, and all travel from the planet was restricted for fear that it might be passed. Things like mail and supplies had been still arriving, so the citizenry had no real complaints.

The Corporation that legally owned the station had been sending messages, and seemed to accept the replies Corissi had returned. Since the station had been controlled five ships had been captured. All of them independent. The Corporate line ships and larger private ships had been left alone. They had not been snatching every ship that came by, only an occasional one.

What bothered the Jedi most was where the prizes went and what happened to their cargos. There Corissi had no clue. As for those taken here either prize crews took them out, or men were sent from the ‘head office’ and took them away along with the crews.

Breia could tell when they had reached the end of his store house of knowledge when the now totally compliant Corissi had begun looking sidelong at her, and started to sweat. The information he had given them would condemn him to death at their word.

Sienna looked at her, and Breia turned and walked out without a word.

“We will discover where you have lied. If you have, make peace with your gods now.” She said, the voder making it a flat threat. She stood, and left.

Breia pulled off the helmet, shaking her hair free. “I hated that.”

Sienna removed her helmet. wiping her face. “I hated it to. But it gave me a chance.”

“A chance for what?” Breia asked suspiciously.

Sienna motioned at the suit she wore. “These are designer made. The standard ones issued to the Marines are black like yours with camouflage capability. When they released them for civilian use, the designers added extra frills. They are the craze back on Corellia right now.” Sienna touched a control on her wrist, and her suit went smoothly from red to an iridescent green.

“They can be locked as yours is, but by tweaking the programming just a little-”

Breia’s went from black to flesh colored. Without the breastplate of a combat suit, she looked as if she were standing there naked.

“Deal with that.” Sienna laughed.

Breia didn‘t seem alarmed. “Funny.” She brought out a hand control. “I wondered why you spent so much time in that shop. I called them afterward, and they told me of the ‘modifications’ you had made to the suit. I thought it was so amusing I had them give me a control to modify yours as well.”

Now both of them were standing there apparently in the buff. Sienna flinched.

“Now, as the patient holding the dentist’s wedding tackle said, ‘Now we’re not going to hurt each other, are we‘?”

Sienna sighed. “You win.” She reset Breia’s suit. Breia returned the favor. They walked down the passageway. As they entered the bay, Sienna quickly reset it again. Breia stopped at a wolf whistle, looked down, and then back. “Maybe you should look down.” Sienna as well had returned to flesh tone. “I set the control so your suit to mimic whatever my suit setting is the next time it is changed.”

“Damn.”

“Well, are you going to admit defeat?”

“Please no!” An anonymous crewman shouted. He ended with a wail as if heartbroken.

“I’ll never live this down.” Sienna moaned.

*****

Admiral Lucas strode into the building like a capital ship, surrounded by his staff. The lift was ahead, and he saw the figure waiting for him. As it opened, Cracken stumbled, falling into him.

“Sorry, sir.“ He said, then got off two floors up. Lucas could feel the data chip, and inwardly he grinned. Finally!

The data was clearly marked, and damning. A pattern of odd promotions had appeared, along with an equally odd pattern of deaths retirements and replacements in key positions. The present head of BuShips disposal, Admiral Lankar had been in his job only a few years, and already discrepancies had begun to appear, at least under a microscope. Worse yet Lucas’ own adjutant was also in the ring.

The Wasps weren’t the only ships that had been diverted. There were seven in all, including an old frigate that had supposedly been disposed as a target. Money had flowed into the hands of these men, and that had come from...

He touched his com screen. “I’m going out for breakfast.” He snapped. He stormed out of the building, for all the world like a man who still had problems.

*****

Logos looked up as his screen flashed. His assistant Queren Siel looked at him. “Sir, there is an odd message.”

“Read it.”

“Bird seared. What dressing?”

He had the man repeat it, then asked the sender. The address was one of the smaller restaurants in Coronet near the spaceport. “I am going out for a while.”

*****

Lucas sat down, ordering tea, and relaxed. The restaurant was owned by an old friend named Frin Below, an officer that had been badly injured, and retired. Frin nodded to him, and talked to his waiter. The service was prompt. Ten minutes later, Logos walked in. He sat across from the Admiral. “Well?” Lucas slid the chip across, and Logos scanned the file. “This is bad.”

“How bad is it on your end?”

“Three top rankers and an incompetent head man.” Logos replied. “If we can move fast, it will be simpler."

“The worst is that everything ends in a wall of Corporate maneuvering. We know ships is sold off the books, but not who bought them. We can’t close this out unless we can discover another link.” Lucas said depressed. “We arrest these people, and six months, a year from now they’re back in business.

Logos sipped his drink. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Would your man be willing to crack another data base?”

“Who's?” Lucas flinched when he heard the answer. “You know, I was ready to retire. This will be the perfect way to end my career.”

*****

Star Trader moved away from the station, heading back out. Her fighters had been left at the station, along with 200 of the Marines, and the anti-shipping weapons that had been carried as cargo and were now deployed. The next pirate to arrive would be in for a rather nasty shock.

Freya Dodonna sighed as her ship entered hyper space. She turned to the matched pair of dark eminences, for Breia had found she kind of liked the way she looked in the skin tight suit.

As long as someone else didn’t control the setting.

“Well it’s back home, and we can report mission accomplished.”

“But there are still ships loose out there.” Breia mused. We destroyed three, but according to that ONI report, there are perhaps ten more out there.”

“When dealing with pirates, you have to look at it like a gardener.” Freya commented. “You pull the weeds you can reach, and make sure they don’t grow back.”

“Where do you think it will lead, Breia?” Sienna asked.

“Too far up for my liking.” The older woman replied. “Seven high ranking officers just at Corellia. I wonder how bad it is where the others are?”

“We can only wait and find out.” Sienna replied.

“I’ll head back to our quarters. Maybe rereading the material will give me some clue.”

“I’ll be with you shortly.” As Breia walk off the deck, Sienna nonchalantly drew a small control from the pouch on her belt.

Freya saw it. “You-”

“Just a fire suppression drill in the passageway. I just set the temperature index to body temperature.”

There was a thudding of alarms, then the sound of a lot of foam being dumped fast.

There was a long moment of silence.

“SIENNA!”

“Now we’re even.”

“So you think sister. Why not go that way.” She pointed toward the auxiliary entrance, which followed the wiring conduits. Sienna took off at a run.

The hatch opened, and Breia stormed in like a Warrior goddess. She was smeared with fire fighting foam, hair stiff as it began to dry. Freya merely pointed toward the same exit her sister had taken. Breia stalked after her.

“Little sister, I think you have met your match.” She mused, turning back to her controls.

But I have failed you all in not delivering this in a more timely manner.I didn't think so. You've been writing and posting quite a bit here in the CEC so I just figured you were taking a break. I didn't have a problem with it.

The prankster feud between Sienna and Breia just keeps getting better and better. Interesting that Sienna's older sister thinks Sienna has met her match in Breia, heh-heh-heh. Yeah, I guffawed a couple of times as I read this chapter. Quite amusing. :D

I look forward to seeing how Corelia and Coruscant deal with their respective subterfuge issues.

I didn't think so. You've been writing and posting quite a bit here in the CEC so I just figured you were taking a break. I didn't have a problem with it.

When before I was posting an average of ten pages every other day, I felt like I had slacked off big time.

The prankster feud between Sienna and Breia just keeps getting better and better. Interesting that Sienna's older sister thinks Sienna has met her match in Breia, heh-heh-heh. Yeah, I guffawed a couple of times as I read this chapter. Quite amusing. :D .

Wait until we get to the rigged toilet.

I look forward to seeing how Corelia and Coruscant deal with their respective subterfuge issues.


That is what I was pushing for. Four planets and three races are involved, but there is no specific internatilnal laws covering it. I.E., the criminals on Corellia can run to say Ryloth, and there is no extradition.

This book is going to end with the first conference between planets with the idea of forming something 'let's call it a Republic' that spans beyond the atmosphere of a specific planet.

When before I was posting an average of ten pages every other day, I felt like I had slacked off big time.


Your 'slacking off' gave me some much needed time to catch up. :D I had so many projects to do in May it wasn't funny, and I spent time with my dad after he had surgery (he's doing well now), so I didn't have time to give it the good read that I wanted to do til now.
Besides, when the muse strikes, you have to go for it.

Only a couple minor things I noted:

I got lost in one of the transitions (when you switch from the cantina scene with Lucas and Logos and go to the Star Trader) and couldn't figure out where I was at for a moment until you mentioned Dodonna's name.
Like cutmeister, I figured out the sensor range thing, but I had to read it a couple times to get it--I think if you reword that just a bit it won't be any problem at all.

The stuff I like:

The feud is hilarious. Color changing skin suits indeed.

I love Cracken's character. So delightfully 'bumbling'. You could probably create an entire series on this guy alone.

The trojan horse merchant ship was great, and yes your traps are wicked. I liked the battle scenes and the bad cop/'badder' cop thing, but then again I find criminal psychology rather interesting. The 'music in the helmet to cut boredom' thing made me laugh.

I like seeing how the pieces are coming together on the information and figuring out who's involved. If I were Lucas and felt particularly ornery, I'd plan a personal sting for my adjutant....

The only bad thing is that I have to wait for the next installment of intrigue. ;P

Yes slacked off again. However if you look at at the lulu.com website this time next week, I will have another Faerie book up there. 200 odd pages in an orgiastic blast.

So to make up for it...

Other problems

Samsun hit the floor, rolling. He was dressed only in a silken loincloth and a collar. He stayed on the ground, looking back toward the door. The guard, a Rodian, sneered, and the door closed. “I bet Yodai is chuckling his butt off over this.” He whispered.

It had taken a week to get him this close, and it wasn’t until three days ago that Yodai and he had worked out what had to be done. Drubba the Hutt dealt so heavily in the black markets that he had a pudgy hand in everything. Spice, slaves, ships, stolen cargo, you name it he handled it. He was a dark figure in the shadows to everyone in the Black trade. No one met him, the people who carried the messages were always people doing his employees favors rather than Drubba. You could arrest a hundred of his messengers and every employee without being able to prove that Drubba was connected at all.

The only way to break in and discover what was happening was to get beneath that surface. But for an outsider, there was only one way to do that. Become part of it.

Samsun had discovered through the net that the police were completely compromised. The Hutt had always been beings of business, and the term ‘mordida’ would have been defined by local politicians and public employees as ‘proper business’. A Hutt constable walked around with his truncheon in one hand, and the other hand out hoping for a bribe. The same was true right up to the Oligarch. Samsun was surprised, because the society had taken this fact, incorporated it, and went on. They had actually set rates for what was supposed to be paid as a gift. An official who charged too much could actually be fired for demanding more!

As a child they learned to extort money from their elders for chores. They used this money to pay teachers for better grades. The parents paid the children for good grades, and this money was used to pay for higher education, which meant the parents paid them for these grades, and this money was saved for later jobs.

While wildly confusing to the average citizen from just about anywhere else, it also meant that their society worked. To become a clerk, you had to sit (Or in the case of a Hutt slither) for comparative exams. Since you didn’t try for such a position without the necessary baksheesh, it meant that while the officer that gave the exam did collect his toll, he actually had to go by who was best on the exam, and complaining to the local equivalent of the labor board that you had paid your mordida but didn‘t get the job only worked if you could prove bias. The same was true all the way up the corporate and political ladder. No one tried for a job unless they A: had the money to grease the palms, and B: were qualified.

The Hutt had slavery, but it had started among their own race as debt slavery. You were good at your job, but didn’t have the cash. Your boss would allow you to slide on his payment but you didn’t get paid until he was reimbursed. You had a run of bad luck and your boss extended money as credit, and you worked X number of days or weeks to pay it back. But during that time your contract could be sold to another boss, who would expect the same consideration...

Oddly enough, this meant the criminal element were actually more trustworthy and lenient on the whole than the ‘honest’ citizens. They offered terms, gave credit, and since they could actually go into a Hutt court and have the case ruled in their favor if you failed to pay them, they were content.

However about a century ago, they had extended this ‘rule’ to other races. A human working for a Hutt company could end up in debt, then slavery by merely forgetting to read all of the fine print on their contract. When you go to court, and discover your boss has a legal right to have you as property, it can be quite a shock.

Governments quietly put out warnings to their people, but that didn’t stop it. Worse yet, since a Hutt would assure that he had diplomatic immunity before traveling, they couldn’t even free his slave by merely allowing them asylum. The Hutt assured that any businessman that traveled had such immunity as a matter of course.

No one liked it, but at the same time, could do nothing about it.

However there are those pernicious beings of every race that seem to think such a right cannot be extended to just one race. Soon there were Twi-lek Duros, even Human slave owners. As long as they restricted that to their dealings only on Hutt worlds, again, there was nothing anyone could do.

When Samsun had decided to infiltrate the network, he had merely gone to a casino, lost a lot of money quickly, and ended up as Drubba’s slave. However he had two hole cards they didn’t know about.

The first was that at any time Yodai could go to the same casino, pay off the marker, and have him freed in minutes. The other was a skill Samsun had taught at the Monastery.


Samsun could cause electronic equipment to do what he wanted them to do. If he had not entered the order, he would have been barred from the electronic gaming area of every gambling establishment in the Galaxy. When he was three, he had become enamored of the flashing lights of the local slot machines. Since he couldn’t enter the casinos yet, he had made the lights dance standing outside the window watching. The fact that when he did this the machine immediately paid out the jackpot didn’t disturb him. After all, it wasn’t his money being lost.

He could have walked through a casino, setting off randomly every jackpot in the place. All of it only because the lights were so pretty.

That had gotten the three year old noticed by the Jedi.

That was sixteen years ago, and the young boy that liked to make pretty lights dance had become the somber young man that now looked around the room. There weren’t many here right now. Maybe ten or fifteen people, mainly Twi-lek women, Bith and humans.

Only the Hutt...

One of the training classes when he was still a boy had been understanding social structures of the races you would deal with on missions. During one class, a human student had stood up, and given a long rambling discourse on something he didn’t remember now. One of the other students, A Twi-lek, had commented that only a human could find that much meaning in nothing.

The teacher, a Hutt had stopped it before it got violent. He had given the class an assignment. Everyone would write down every such aphorism they had ever heard. Each such list would be a minimum of ten pages long, and they would check with each other so that they didn’t repeat them. However if there was one that had been repeated, the students had to note when they had been repeated and how many times.

The top three were amusing, and appalling equally. They were;

‘Only humans could make war a noble venture’ and;

‘Only the Hutt could make slavery not only acceptable, but profitable ‘.

‘Only a Twi-lek would consider choosing a mate because of how she dances’.

It had taken three weeks of arguing before the class as a whole was willing to admit that these aphorisms were not completely true. The reason they did was after the almost seventy pages had been turned in, the Master had then given every student all of the aphorisms that denigrated his race, and told him ‘prove them wrong’.

Some were astonished to discover that more slaves had been bought by humans than any other race. That some of the most vicious and vainglorious soldiers were among the Duros, who considered war a business venture with casualties. That there were humans of fifteen different planets that chose their mates or sexual partners only after watching them dance.

It was a sobering lesson.

Samsun was looking for a specific Twi-Leki face. There was a woman named Ramadora who had worked in one of Drubba’s office. She had been a data entry level worker. She was renowned for her memory according to their source. Something she had merely glanced at in passing when she was ten was as easily accessible as calling up the data on a computer.

But unlike a computer, her memory could not merely be deleted.

One day someone left a pile of data chips on her desk, and she had entered them. Unfortunately it was supposed to have been given to another clerk, someone who worked on the shadow side of Drubba’s business. The files had meant nothing to her, but there was enough evidence in them that even the bribe ridden Hutt courts would have had to do something.

When the mistake was discovered, Drubba had acted swiftly. He could have merely had a bullet put through her brain, but he still had a use for her, and couldn’t take the chance that she would leave. So he had her kidnapped. When she woke up from the stun web, she was in his private retreat on an island in the Great Swamp. The palace was large enough for a hundred Hutt, but only holding Drubba and his dozen or so men, and the slaves. It was impossible to walk out, and no one had access to vehicles of any kind without his direct authorization.

Now he had an excellent administrator for his stable and criminal activities.

And Samsun intended to get her out of here. But she wasn’t in this room. The problem was, he couldn’t just wander about. The locked door wouldn’t stop him, it was electronic, and he could pop it by merely running his hands over the wall. The collar was also not a problem. He could convince it that it was obeying a punishment command just sitting here.

However as a slave he would not be allowed free run of the building. Once it got dark, he could do some judicious sneaking, but not until then.

The slave overseer came in. A human. “Three for gardening.“ He ordered. He pointed, and each slave got to their feet to follow him. He looked around, and pointed at Samsun. “You.“

Samsun climbed to his feet, feigning weakness, and followed.

The ‘garden’ was a chunk of the swamp that had been left natural in the center of the structure. Samsun noticed immediately the traces of something moving under the surface. One of the slaves leaned toward the water watching them and Samsun grabbed her, pulling her back sharply. A froglike animal leaped up, missing her face by inches, then fell back in.

“The master’s favorite food.” The overseer chuckled. “It’s favorite food is stupid humans.” He motioned toward the mud on the edge of the water. “It must be shoveled out there. If you are not careful you are dinner!”

They had to stand on the squelching loose mudflat, using hoes to pull mud back from the edge. As they did, the daily rains began, washing the mud back toward the pond. Obviously this was a full time job. A killer frog stuck it’s head up, eyes watching the prey just out of it’s reach.

A large form approached. Drubba, and behind him- Ramadora and another woman.

“The shipment from Coruscant has arrived, ready for transshipment to Thule-” The other woman, a human with a collar said.

“Thule has been reported as taken by Corellian forces.” Ramadora replied. “Three ships were lost there.”

“Why was I not told?” The Hutt demanded.

“I told you yesterday at 1300 hours.” Ramadora replied serenely. “Your reply was-”

“Silence!” He grumbled, sliding along the edge of the swamp. He stopped, watching the water. “Doshan. How are my pets?”

The overseer came over, bowing and scraping. “They are not that frisky right now, lord.”

“Maybe they need to be fed.” One of the large eyes rotated to the slaves. “The small one will do.”

Doshan scraped a bit more, then ran over. The smallest slave, the one Samsun had saved earlier, a human girl of about fifteen was grabbed and thrown into the water. It took every scrap of Samsun’s will to resist killing the man where he stood. The girl had time for one scream before the water boiled. Blood sprayed into the water, and one of the froglike animals climbed up, ripping into her face, and stifling her cry as she went under. The water continued to roil for several more moments, then suddenly was silent.

“Get the collar out later.” Drubba ordered. “So where are we to send the merchandise?” He asked, slithering on.

“The factor said that Mooshiro on Ryloth would accept it for transshipment.”

As she passed, Samsun slipped, falling against her. He caught her arm, apologizing profusely, then began writhing as he felt the first shot of pain through the collar. He disconnected the system, just pretending to be in agony, watching the overseer through slitted eyes until he stopped triggering it.

Samsun watched the trio walk away. He would have a reason to sneak later.
*****

That evening, Samsun reached under the collar, pulling out the comlink he had hidden. How and where he had hidden it before the collar had gone on was best left to your imagination. He set it down, then touched the back of his collar. The electronic lock snicked, and it came off in his hands.

He set it down, lifting the comlink, and sliding it into his loincloth. The door was just as easy. He moved down the corridor toward the ‘garden. There was a muttering, and he paused.

“No Doshan, you get the collar.” He snarled. “Can’t let some precious slavey do it. I got to do it.”

Samsun came around the corner. The overseer was standing as far back from the water as he could, wielding a long pole. He was probing in the mud of the bottom, trying to find the collar. Samsun grinned, then went back to the slave’s quarters, returning with the collar.

Doshan felt something land on his back, shoving him face down in the glutinous mud. He felt something being attached around his neck, then the weight was gone. He snarled, leaping to his feet. It was that damn new slave, without a collar!

Samsun held up the control box. “I would think before you move.” He said.

Doshan felt his neck. The collar was on him! “The way out is that way.”
Doshan lied, pointing toward the Master’s quarters block.

“Is that so.” Samsun grinned. “I would swear that is where Drubba lives. Right near the Harem.” He held up the comlink. A small screen was on the side of it, and a dot flashed in that direction.

Doshan opened his mouth to scream, then the shock of the collar drove him to his knees. He felt a hand grab him, the pole thrust into his hands, and he was shoved backwards. The pole caught on something, and he opened his eyes through the pain to see the water only a few inches from his face. Before he could try to resist, something leaped, catching him by the throat. He flailed, falling into the water.

Samsun walked away, headed for the harem. He stopped outside the door, and checked it not only with his eyes, but with those senses that made him Jedi. There was a security section that would automatically activate a collar if someone passed through it. The system was switched on, and was probably for use for the night. He deactivated it, opening the door.

He ghosted past the veiled enclosures until he came to the right one. Ramadora was asleep, and he caught her neck, using a sanguinary strangle. The sleep became unconsciousness. He removed the collar. There was something at her hip, and he ran his hand over it. Something implanted...

Of course. With a photographic memory no password was safe from her. No security system capable of holding her if she knew how to deactivate it. But an implant was where she couldn’t get to it.

He picked her up, carrying her back to the garden. The body of the Overseer was being dragged into the water, and he fought it long enough to pull the dead man’s boot knife free. It was razor sharp. He keyed the comlink locator button, then bent over the unconscious woman. He cut down, pulling out the small vial. He put it aside, then picked her and the comlink up.

There was a roar, and Master Gretu of Triseki was there, exhaust boiling the water of the pond away. Samsun picked up the still unconscious woman. A moment later, the ship was gone. All that remained to show was the crackle glazed glass of the now dried pond, with the bodies of Doshan and the inhabitants fused into it.

OK. So the Jedi have rescued a Twi'lek with a photographic memory from the clutches of Hutt slavery. What information does she have that will help the Jedi in their efforts to thwart the pirates? I'll stay tuned.

I love this story, you're a very good writer Mach...

I'm sure she and her memory will wreak havoc with the Hutt's finances. And the corrupt Corellians, Twi'leks, Coruscanti, etc., etc., etc..... :)

To those that have been reading...

About three weeks ago, I discovered that we had Adult Swim on demand on our TV. Thinking I was going to watch the movie Ghost in the Shell, I discovered instead I had come into the middle of the first season of the Stand Alone Complex. The episode was #12, which I immediately dubbed 'Little Tachkoma lost'. I enjoyed their antics so much I used one as my Avatar.

If you have seen the series, you remember what happened to these little robots. It gave me the idea for what is about to occur aboard. So blame me, but blame the author of the series too. Well, just a little. After all, it wasn't his fault it happened.

Oh, A Whatever Prize to the first person who can tell me where my new signature came from...

The puzzle

The Jedi monk assigned to the communications room in the Corellian Monastery took the message sent via a Bothan message torpedo, looking at it. It was coded beyond her level, but the first line told her where it was to go. She forwarded it to Padawan Reyes and Kreil.

Only Kreil was in the monastery at the moment, and he decoded it, then added it to the sheaf of information so far recorded. When Reyes returned, they both began to correlate.

An intelligence puzzle is not unlike a jigsaw puzzle except you have no box to refer to as to what the picture might be. You have a lot of pieces that must be assembled, and worse yet, a lot of them are either from some other puzzle, or missing entirely. You may never have all the pieces.

You have to make all estimates from this lack of information, and because you might have preconceptions, you can be horribly wrong. One of the first rules taught to intelligence agents is that you do not use a preconception to prove a fact. You use facts to prove the preconception. If it does not fit the preconception, you discard the thought, not the facts. It is a lesson that is hard to learn. A lot of people can end up dead if you don’t learn the lesson.

Unlike a jigsaw puzzle however, you cannot get disgusted and just throw the damn thing away. You have to patiently wait for more facts to become available.

Bib Wanatagi had discovered a net of men within the Twi-leki government that had been party to the deception they were investigating. The worst part of that was that all of them were highly placed in the present government. Kalo Fortuna had reported less than a week earlier that he was unable to crucify his old enemy at Ryloth shipyards, but had gained enough evidence to convict seven or eight of his subordinates.

The problem was, the paper trail ended at the atmosphere. The ships had been bought by companies that did not exist beyond their logos on offices. The one lead they had was contacts with the Hutt and Coruscant.

A short time later, Padawans Yodai and Samsun arrived. Now the data had a context. Ramadora was not what would be called an inquisitive woman, and her confinement as a slave had not changed that. But her mind held data that finally filled in a great many of the blanks in the puzzle.

All they were waiting for now was Sienna and Breia to arrive.

*****

A4D9 stood at the bottom, of the ramp, contemplating his instructions. Sienna had ordered him to assure that if Breia intended a prank in return for her last one, A4 was to report it to her.

However, Breia had circumvented that instruction by assigning the prank she planned to the droid. It set up an interesting dichotomy.

It is not Breia arranging the prank, so he should not report it. But Sienna had specified that if Breia planned one, to report it. However while Breia did plan the prank the droid was to arrange it, She was not pulling it, A4 was.

If the droid had been of any series but an A4, it would have been reduced to an electronic dither. But the A4s were made of sterner stuff than that. They were designed to operate under conditions where all hell was breaking loose, and to operate efficiently regardless of circumstances. Their AIs were capable of growth and learning.

The A4 series droids were designed for shipboard use by the Corellian Navy, but was being recalled because of those quirks. The A4s downloaded everything in it’s search for knowledge and were very eclectic. There were few hundred of the series still operating.

Straight from the factory, they had default settings. This is how to replace a valve, this is how to reroute a damaged conduit. This is how to load a cannon for a snub fighter. Picture a man fresh from a military training school.

The quirk in their programming had been because of a young programmer that had decided that the droids needed to be able to decide what they needed to learn to do their jobs. Being a reader, he had specified that they would learn by searching databases.

The problem is, as the old axiom says, there are three ways to do something. The right way, the wrong way, and the ‘approved military’ way. Straight from the factory, every setting was already there to do it in the approved military manner perfectly every time.

But to become expert at their job, a human mechanic must know when to set The Book aside, and find another way to do it. If he succeeds, and his method proves more efficient, eventually it might become part of The Book.

It bothered the Navy when the A4s learned other ways and did them in the most efficient manner rather than the prescribed manner.

Sort of like a human mechanic.

A4D9 had the longest running memory of the entire series because the Jedi had allowed it free reign to do so.

It had also been put in the position of pretending to be a massive homicidal spider, downloading the entire medical database from a station and the protocols from a police combat unit.

To say it was ‘conflicted’ is like saying the sun is warm.

A crewman came by, and saw the droid standing at the foot of the ramp. “You!”

The eyes turned to look at him. A pedipalp arm moved in a ‘who me?’ gesture.

“Get over with the others.” He ordered.

Neither Breia nor any of her partners had been this abrupt with it before, and A4 was irritated. But orders were orders. The bases of the legs folded into road wheels, and it rolled across the bay. The sailor grumbled, linking the seven A4s still aboard into a series. The Navy had decided that the way to stop the problem with the A4 was to synchronize their memories. If they already had all available information on say maintenance of the ship‘s snub fighters, they wouldn’t wander off and find seven or eight thousand books (A lot of them fictional) to download and go through.

A4D9 allowed the link, and all seven droids suddenly shared the memories of that unit.

*****

Star Trader dropped out of Hyper space three planetary diameters from Corellia. Her commander notified the Navy of the mission’s success, then turned to the two Jedi that had accompanied her crew.

“Thank you for your assistance, Freya.”

The captain cocked her head. “You know, little sister, that almost sounds patronizing. As if my crew just held your coats.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Sienna apologized. “I meant-”

“I know you little twit.” She stood, hugging her sister, then turned to Padawan Solo. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Breia replied, shaking her hand. “Be careful, and may the Force be with you.”

Freya held the hand tightly as her sister headed for the door. “Don’t hurt her too much.” She whispered.

“Why Captain, whatever do you mean?” Breia asked.

*****

As the pair of Jedi entered the landing bay, it happened. Of the seven, two had decided that Sienna needed to be warned, but other droids beside them immediately incapacitated those two traitors.

Sienna ducked as a shot of the webbing plastic the A4s used shot over her head. Unfortunately she didn’t avoid the shot at knee level. Before she could scream, she found herself hoisted headfirst toward the overhead. Another droid spun, picked up a canister of heavy lubricating oil, feeding it into a dispenser leg. Another to that one’s right did the same with a canister of fire-fighting foam. A third had done the same with emergency sealant for hull breeches. The last had picked up a packing case full of packing materials, merely small soft pieces of plastic. It fired two threads, and hoisted itself toward the overhead after her.

The legs of the three droids rose, then discharged. Due to the differences in their specific gravities, the firefighting foam shot out and arrived first, followed by the hull sealant, followed by the oil. As target, Sienna was buffeted one way then another by the blasts but she wasn’t the only one effected. After all, when used in proper operations, the oil should have been dispensed at a millimeter’s distance. The sealant at less than a meter, and the fire fighting foam at a safe distance from the fire. Once the canisters had drained, the droid that had rappelled up dumped the case of foam pieces over the struggling person. Four seconds later, it’s bearings seized as the sealant hardened on contact with air.

Except for the screaming from overhead, there was only one sound in the bay when the canisters had drained. That was the chuckling of five robots.

Breia looked at the mess, and the furious ratings spattered with one or more fluids. She looked upward. The oil had in fact atomized, and was probably gumming up the air circulation system even now.

“I think we had better let her down.” She said.

“BREIA!!!”

:rofl:

Oh, Lordy. That was funny. :) I'm looking forward to seeing how the puzzle comes together, too.

Does googling the sig count? I'm making use of my available resources, after all. ;) :D

This is great! me reading first four chapters in a row, especialy when they are this long realy means something. Only thing i am confused about is what is the time when this is happening... well i understand it is looong time ago, before republic i mean, thats long.

:rofl:
Does googling the sig count? I'm making use of my available resources, after all. ;) :D

By all means. Go for it. At least someone other than Hallucination will get the prize. The little gtuy has what, three?

This is great! me reading first four chapters in a row, especialy when they are this long realy means something. Only thing i am confused about is what is the time when this is happening... well i understand it is looong time ago, before republic i mean, thats long.

It is the sequel to Star Wars the Beginning by some guy named Machievelli. That one is set by my estimate about 25,000 years ago.

By all means. Go for it. At least someone other than Hallucination will get the prize. The little gtuy has what, three?

and a half if you count the one I shared with him. :D

Answer: Dominion Tank Police.

My favorite Anime btw! :D -RH

Another great chapter...the practical jokes are getting better all the time!

and a half if you count the one I shared with him. :D

Answer: Dominion Tank Police.

My favorite Anime btw! :D -RH

My problem with anime is that the blurbs sound so stupid, but then the series is so good. That happened with ProjectA-Ko, Tank POlice and Ranma.

Yup you get the prize.

Woo! Whatever Prize! Thank you! I'll give it the appropriate appreciation that it deserves. :D

Battle of the Planets is still my fav, but I haven't seen a lot of the others.

Woo! Whatever Prize! Thank you! I'll give it the appropriate appreciation that it deserves. :D

Battle of the Planets is still my fav, but I haven't seen a lot of the others.

Project A-ko's blurb is a child born from Superman and Wonder Woman (Super powers but can't fly) versus a girl who would be Lex Luthor in technological capability fighting over who will be best friends with another girl. When you add in an alien invasion, a ship full of Amazon warriors, and the city they live in getting leveled three times, it gets really ridiculous.

Ranma's was even worse. 'splash a martial artist with cold water, he becomes a girl. splash him with hot water, he becomes a boy'.

Both were good enough that if I had the money I'de have the entire sets.

Raiding

“It was only a harmless prank.” Sienna said. She had been cleaned up, as had Breia. They stood in what is nicknamed a ‘Cadet Brace’, a position of attention so tight that the body cannot move.

“So let us see what your little ‘harmless’ pranks have caused.” Freya began in a deadly calm voice. She picked up the pad from her desk. “First, your A4 has infected six A4 droids with this extended intelligence you allowed. My Droid maintenance officer tells me that reinitializing their AIs will do us no good, because they will grow back to their present level the first time they access our data banks. So they are worthless to this ship.

“These droids then sprayed 20 liter canisters of firefighting foam, D71 lubricating oil, and emergency hull sealant in an enclosed docking bay. The foam is no problem, but the oil atomized, got into the filters and clogged them and since no one had told the droids that were replacing them the cause, also flooded four more decks, causing yet more filters to be clogged. Luckily the damage control officer stopped them from replacing more because if he had not the life support plant would have been affected as well. However that caused 400 credits of damage and two thousand man hours because every air vent between Decks 9 and three has a layer of oil on them.

“The hull sealant did it’s job, which means we have an additional 400 man hours of cleanup with blowtorches and hammers to break it all free.” She set the pad down, and the calm broke like a levee wall hit by a 20 meter flood surge.

It was a good thing the Corellian Navy had spent the money to soundproof the Captain’s office. Freya blistered the air for a full half an hour before she calmed down.

“Now, you-” She pointed at her sister. “Will promise me by all you deem holy that you will stop this practical joking now and in the future. If I hear about one more such incident, I will hunt you down and give you the spanking you so richly deserve. Swear!”

“I promise, Freya.”

And you!” She pointed at Breia. “You are old enough to know better. If I notified the Jedi Council on Corellia what you had done do you think they would have approved?” Breia shook her head. “Answer me, damn you!”

“They would not approve, Captain.” Breia answered in a very small voice.

Freya growled. “Then the same goes for you.”

“I swear, Captain.”

“Get out of my sight and off my deck. MOVE!”

The two Jedi staggered into the passageway. They looked at each other silently, then suddenly grinned at each other.

“We’d have to stop.” Breia said. “I don’t think I can top that!”

“Agreed.” Sienna stuck out her hand, and they shook. The cabin door opened, and Freya stood there, glaring at them.

“Oh I forgot, I won’t have to spank you, little sister.”

“Huh?”

The captain handed her a pad. “The surveillance cameras were on, and the rating assigned assured we’d get good... coverage of the incident.” She closed the door.

Sienna looked at Breia with a cocked eyebrow, then keyed the pad. For a long moment, she stared at it, then her face went ashen. Breia took it away, and started it over.

Sienna had been in full ‘bad cop’ uniform. Skin-suit and helmet set for Scarlet. The hull sealant had plastered her left arm to her body, and covered half of her, dripping down until it had hardened. The oil had atomized over her uniformly meaning that attempting to move the frozen form or work on freeing her had been a form of group mud wrestling.
They couldn’t use the sonic system used if it had actually been a hull breach because the oil would have ignited under the sonic waves. Removing her from the suit had been a long painstaking process of cutting the unaffected parts of the suit away, then cutting off the rest of the now solid metal in sections.

At the time no one had considered exactly what this meant. But from the camera above, it looked like a poorly done pornographic movie. She had been nude underneath the suit, so there was a full half hour of her first half nude down the right side, then more being revealed as time went on starting at her head, and moving down her body until her leg was finally free. Through it all, they had been required to wrestle her into position for the next cut, which meant her skin had been well oiled for the viewer.

The two women looked at each other, stunned. “Well your secret is out, Sienna.” She looked at the last segment. “All of them.”

*****

“They’re shot! the Droid maintenance head almost screamed. He looked at the six A4s in the other room. They were not standing against the wall as they should unless on an assignment. Instead they were in a circle in the center of the room talking. Not with sealed packet communications as they should, but for all the world like a bunch of people at a party! He’d stopped listening halfway through because their discussion, like any such discussion of people, had at times gotten acrimonious. They had argued, even shouted!

“Total brain immersion.” His assistant commented.

“I don’t care what you call it. What it means is we have to send the lot of them down to the lab for analysis and scrapping.” The Head snarled. “Leaving us without them.”

“We can get-”

“No more A4s!”

‘Yes, sir.” The deputy tapped the annunciator.

“-but the analysis shows that Brogol did not take into account ambient movement of atmospheric elements when he came up with his weather prediction program.” One of the droids was saying.

“What do you mean? Chaos Theory suggests-” A droid began to reply.

“Don’t start in on Chaos Theory again!” Another interrupted. “Every time we talk you go on as if Chaos Theory explains everything, even though by definition it cannot!”

“May I have your attention please.”

“What do you mean you ill designed construct-”

“May I have your attention please.”

“One more word like that and I’m going to shove your pedi-palp up your stern access port!”

“SHUT UP!” The deputy roared. The droids fell silent. If all things had been normal, the droids would have formed up against the wall. But instead the eye stalks merely turned to look at the nearest monitor. “All A4 units will proceed to docking bay seven and load themselves onto the cargo shuttle there. With no talking!”

*****

The Jedi Council was in deliberation when Padawan Reyes came in abruptly.

“What is this?” Master Desical asked mildly.

“Sir, we have recorded everything of Drubba the Hutt’s operations that Ramadora knew. As you know all of it was recorded while she was in an hypnotic trance. It has taken us every minute since her arrival to do so.

“We were collating it when we came across this.” He held out the data pad. Desical looked at it, then passed it on to the Master to his left. “Is this verified?”

“Not yet, Master. But I must inform the investigators connected to ONI and Corellian Intelligence.”

“Which ones?”

“The ones Admiral Tran and Holani Solo began.” He pointed. “These names are part of the ‘official’ investigations.

*****

The message torpedoes had gone out, directed to the Jedi in most cases. Only one went to an official organization, that was sent to the Minister of the Interior of Nal Hutta. On Ryloth it went to Bib Watanagi.

*****

Drubba the Hutt meekly went with the authorities. His properties were seized, and he was banished.

*****
Premier Lassa glared at the two silent men in his office, then at the damning information that had been delivered.

“You are sure of this?” She demanded. Both Wanatagi and Fortuna nodded. She sighed, then keyed her annunciator. “I want to see the head of Intelligence and Buships in my office immediately. With their deputies.” She looked at the two men again. “Bib, you are the number 3 in Intelligence, would you take over?”

“Yes, Premier.”

“Do you want-”

“No, Premier.” He held up a hand. “That is the problem with our system. Too many in the upper echelon assign their friends and relatives to their staffs to pad them. I ask only that Morilli Desco of Records be assigned to assist me.”

“Does that blanket condemnation cover me as well?”

“I would like to say no, Premier. However one of the accused is your brother. The fact that you are willing to have him arrested speaks well of you. And so I will state to any media that asks me to comment.”

She sighed in relief. “Thank you, sir.”

*****

On Coruscant it went well. Fifteen men and women in Buships, Buweaps, and the intelligence committee were arrested with almost no trouble. Unfortunately, one of them sent off a message torpedo of his own.

*****

Sienna and Breia stepped off the ramp. Meeri stood there waiting for them.

“Meeri!” Breia ran forward, hugging her Padawan Learner. “You’re safe?”

“Yes.” The Ithorian said. “For three days now.”

When we’re done-”

“No, Master.”

Breia stopped, moving back to look her in the eye. “What do you mean?”

“That I have asked to be assigned to the conservation corps.”

“What!” For a trained Jedi, being assigned to the conservation corps was tantamount to admitting failure! “But Meeri-”

The Ithorian laughed. “It isn’t an admission of failure! The Corps senior officer here on Corellia wishes to retire, and I was offered his position.”

“Is that why you risked Iridian plague-”

“It wasn’t Iridian plague.” Meeri replied.

“But the canister!”

“My analysis was that it was Throidalian influenza.” Meeri replied coolly. “Which has a lot of the symptoms of Iridian plague, but not the lethal nature.” She looked at the pair. “Someone wanted to make everyone think the Neshtori had gotten weapons and wanted Corellia implicated.”

Breia looked at Sienna. “We had best-”

A Padawan came running out. “Padawan Solo! The Council needs to speak with you immediately!"

Before anyone asks, I remembered that Lucas as on Curuscant, so he has been replaced with Tran, the Corellian ONI head.

Hobart was head of the council on Coruscant, so he has been replaced by Master Desical

The Aqualish, who will not be found for another 10,000 years were replaced by the Neshtori, who as far as I know, is a race of my own creation.

Sort of like a soap opera isn't it?

Escape

The man read the terse message from Coruscant, then shut off his reader, looking out over the city.

It was all starting to come apart. The thrice damned Jedi had ruined over ten years of work without even breaking a sweat. The report from Bothuwai had told him that the GTA had subpoenaed all files regarding Wayfarer’s business records there after the corporate office was raided. His only chance to escape was to cause as much carnage as he could and pretend to die in the process.

He considered his subordinates here on Corellia impartially. None were irreplaceable. In fact their deaths would give intelligence a reason to stop further investigation. He tapped a button on his annunciator, then rose to go to his office to clear the evidence.

*****

Breia walked into the Council chamber. “We don’t have a lot of time, Padawan.” Desical snapped handing her the pad. Read that and come with me.”

Breia had learned at an early age to read and walk at the same time. Her father had been doing it all her life, and she had copied him-

She stopped.

“Ramadora’s memory includes the following statement from Drubba the Hutt’s file. ‘Chairman chief test pilot Darshan Solo has become inquisitive. His wife Holani must not discover the secret of Wayfarer Corporation. Shuttle rigged to crash. Solo on life support crippled‘.” She took a deep cleansing breath.

“Solo, let’s go!” Desical snapped. She nodded, following.

They reached the nerve center of the investigation. Reyes and Kreil along with Meeri and Sienna were going through the stacks of papers.

“Another one.” Meeri commented. “This one is the assistant to the Prime Minister.”

“What do we have so far?” Desical demanded.

“In the navy we have seven admirals including the heads of Buships Buweaps Commanding officer Planetary defense and deputy chief of ONI. In CIA we have three of the Deputy directors.” Reyes reported.

“Which leaves mother as the only deputy director not suborned?” Breia asked.

“Her and Deputy Director Prentiss. Padawan Solo. ONI has been notified, as has your mother-” Reyes spun as alarms went off.

*****

Prentiss grinned as his team approached Holani Solo’s office. The final nail in little miss Solo’s coffin had been delivered to him just a few moments ago. He pointed at Seela as they approached. “Arrest her for complicity.” He ordered. The man assigned by Deputy Director of Personnel Hostan moved over, signaling with his rifle for her to stand.

“Now.” Prentiss turned to ask the team leader what that meant. This meant he got to see the bullet that killed him.

Holani heard the blast, and was in motion slapping the annunciator and ducking before the door came in propelled by an explosive charge. She popped up, and her burst cut down the three men that charged in.

She relaxed. The man that remained popped up and she spun to fire.

*****

Breia grasped her chest. “Mother!” She spun, Sienna coming after her.

“Solo!” Desical shouted, but they were running so fast he wasn’t sure they had heard.

He chased after them arriving on the landing pad as Hawk Flight took off in a ground hugging course toward the center of the city at almost mach 3.

Meeri came running out right after him. “Master! the ringleader is-”

“Tell me in the air!” He ran to the nearest courier, Padawan Sani of Naboo.

Meeri spoke for several seconds. In the middle of it, Desical turned, headed instead to the Capitol Complex.

*****

Admiral Tran looked up, having only a second before his deputy shot him down. The man came in, and slammed down the all systems alarm. “All stations, Jedi are attacking the Naval Headquarters. Protect the Citadel at all costs!” He kicked the body aside as he sat at the computer.

*****

Captain Cracken heard the alarm, looking up with the placid way he had. Then he stood from his desk. He pulled the pistol from his desk drawer, and walked into the computer bay. At his instructions, the technicians locked their equipment with the code he provided, then hurried through a concealed exit he had already scouted. Once they were clear, Cracken sealed it behind them to conceal their escape route. He then lit a cigar, and sat down to wait.

It was later discovered that a combined team of twenty man ONI operatives and thirty Raiders armed with full combat gear and armor had been ordered to seize the building. They entered BuPers to carry out those orders. There was no record of what actually occurred from that point on.

There were no survivors to report it.

Three days later when the wreckage of the destroyed building was finally cleared, Nial Cracken was awarded yet another Parliamentary Cross.

This one was posthumous.

*****

Logos had been better prepared than his superior. He already had a team of operatives that had been collating the information for delivery to Prentiss and Director Maron. Among them was Major Tori and his internal security team. The fifty men assigned to kill them were slaughtered.

*****

“Sir!” The communications officer aboard Star Trader spun. “General alarm! The Jedi are attacking the Citadel!”

“That is crap!” Freya shouted.

“Maybe, sir. But all ships in the system have orders to blow the monastery into dust!”

Freya took less than a second to decide. “Helm place us 200 meters above the Monastery now!” She ordered. “Marine Commander on my monitor!”

She spun as the monitor came up. “Major Donstan, someone in the Citadel has sent an alarm that the Jedi are attacking the Citadel. “I am going to place this vessel in the path of any projectiles or missiles to protect the monastery.”

Donstan looked at her. “Understood, sir. Your orders?”

“Launch all assault shuttles. If the Jedi open fire on you, you have my permission to blow them to hell. If not you will land in the Citadel, and secure the complex. Once you have, place yourself under the authority of my father or whomever he directs.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir! Signal from Frigate Flagship Lancer!”

“On screen.” Freya turned around. She looked at the face in front of her. “Admiral Dodonna.“ She said.

Admiral Sala Dodonna, commanding Home Fleet glared at her. “Star Trader, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Acting with honor, Admiral.” Freya snapped. According to her scanner, they were a kilometer above the Monastery and dropping.

“To hell with your honor, Captain! Get that piece of garbage out of our line of fire!”

“Aunt Sala, you can kill me. But that is the only way I am moving.”

The woman glared at her. “On your head be it, Niece.” She turned, but left the screen active. “Weapons lock onto Star Trader. If she does not move in the next three minutes, you will open fire and shoot through her if necessary.”

“Sir! Frigate Salutation is de-orbiting!”

“What!” She turned, punching her monitor control to get the sensor reading. The old Frigate Salutation was dropping into atmosphere, heading- “Get that maniac on my screen now!”

The screen lit, and Commodore Koori Solo looked up. “Not now please, Admiral. I am busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Well I think Captain Dodonna said it best, Admiral. Honor must be served.”

“Get that ship out of my way or so help me I’ll kill you!”

He looked up from where he was working with a sad smile. “You know Sala, when your family told you not to marry me, I always thought it was the career move that made you decide.

“I see now that you are a cold hearted bitch who is more interested in the stars on her collar than love, family, or truth.” The frigate settled down fifty meters to starboard of Star Trader, a shark beside a whale. “Take your best shot.”

*****

While they had been instructed not to talk, the six A4 units defined that as ‘audible to the humans around them’. If they hadn’t they would have never finished their discussion of Cornet’s weather.

A4C3 had just suggested that using Bertram’s random index might be a way to save the program when another unit hushed him. The cockpit chatter was run on their internal communications system

-Shuttle 7, do not, I repeat do not land at Admiralty Science Center. Admiral Costi has reported an attempt by Jedi to attack and destroy the Citadel. Immediately turn to 215, proceed to University Science Center-

Jedi? All of them had A4d9s memories. This included several years of being in almost constant contact with the Jedi and especially three of them.

The Jedi wouldn’t do something like that!

The decision took even less time than Freya Dodonna’s similar decision.

A4L7 slid to the door to the flight deck, swarming through the door followed by one other. The shuttle suddenly dipped, then spun on it’s axis, the throttle punching through mach 2. A moment later the three man flight crew were passed pedipalp to pedipalp and literally glued to the aft bulkhead.

“What are you doing, L7?” demanded A4J2.

“Going to help the Jedi of course.”

“Without being asked?”

“We were asked.”

“What?”

“Breia Solo and Sienna are enroute to CIA. When they left the Jedi compound, they told A4d9 to get a move on.”

“Well they didn’t tell us personally to go.”

“Will we be able to finish this argument in the next 14 seconds?”

“I doubt it. Why?”

Because we now have seven seconds before we hit the Citadel at the main office level.”

“Then never mind.”

The shuttle hit the 8th floor main office level travelling at almost mach 2. The bow shredded as the three tons of spacecraft smashed in the three meter tall windows. Being more resilient than a human pilot the three droids sustained almost no damage in the impact.

“What now?” J2 asked.

“We need to get some weapons.” C3 replied. Every A4 suddenly received video of a dozen Raiders charging toward them.

“We’ll have to take them from those men.”

*****
The problem with a suspected coup attempt is that any organized action is automatically assumed to be part of the plot. The actions of Logos’ defense inside CIA, the Salutation and the Star Trader, and the sudden reaction of shuttle 7 from the latter vessel fit the criteria.

Sala Dodonna watched the time tick down. At one minute fifteen seconds, she order the ships hailed again. They came up on split screen.

“Captain Dodonna, Commodore Solo, you will move your vessels in one minute seven seconds or we will be forced to open fire.”

Freya looked serenely back at her favorite aunt. “Admiral, I refuse. You might as well open fire here and now. When you do, remember that you will be killing my sister as well when you do. Blood is thicker than water. Captain Dodonna out.” The screen section went blank again.

Solo merely looked at her. “Sala, my sister is down there as well.” He looked sad. “Of course I never had any hold on you before, so why should now be different?” The entire screen was now blank. Both ships sat there unmoving, every sensor and weapon deactivated.

She stared at the screen. While her face was an iron mask, her heart was torn. No Koori. I wanted to marry you, be the mother of your children. She looked at the chrono. Instead I get to be your executioner.

The time ran down. One minute, Forty-five seconds. Thirty seconds. Twenty seconds. Ten...nine...eight... seven-

“All ships, this is Admiral Dodonna. All weapons on standby. Until the situation on the surface is clear all ships will await my orders. No one, I repeat, no one will fire. I will blow the first ship that locks weapons on any target without my orders to hell.

“All Home Fleet Marines units, prepare for drop. Landing zones are the Citadel, and the Jedi Monastery complex. Rules of Engagement are Sigma. Administrative landing with no hostility assumed. Weapons loaded and prepped, but on safe. You will not fire unless fired upon.”

She considered the wreckage her career might very well be in. Then sighed, shrugging her shoulders. It would have made family reunions hell.

After all, blood is thicker than water.

Besides, Maybe Koori still had feelings for her too.


Debacle

A coup depends on confusion. The conspirators are always a small group, hoping that inertia will stop the bulk of their possible enemies from coming down on them like a hammer. When it works, there is merely a change of leadership, and things go on as before. If not...

“What do you mean they aren’t shooting!” Admiral Costi who was Commanding Officer Planetary Defense screamed.

“Sir, Admiral Dodonna has ordered her ships to lock down their weapons.” His aide reported. “She has also ordered Marine drops on the Citadel and the Monastery with the same conditions.”

“That bitch!” Costi had done what the signal from his leader had ordered.

It had been so clear! The government was corrupt. Only a strong leader with the military behind him could fix the problem

When the fleet at Noral reported illness, they would use the canister as proof that someone in the Corellian military and GTA was supplying weapons to the Neshtori. Enough proof had been secreted in the files to at least keep people wondering as the loyal men in the military moved in, replaced the Parliament with a better organized committee, and withdrew from the GTA.

The plan they were using now was a long shot second best. Accusing those interfering Jedi with the coup attempt would give them time to destroy the files that would damn them, and remove the problem in one stroke.

It hadn’t worked out that way. The conspirators within CIA had been rounded up very quickly, though they had finally dealt with that Solo bitch. But some computer genius had sealed all of the files under Admiral Tran’s access code, and that stupid deputy chief had killed him before they had found that out. They would have to literally go through the records file by file, and they would never be able to find them all!

The plan had assumed that the officers below Costi and in home fleet had been prepped to understand why this was going to happen and obeyed him. They should at least still obey orders that seemed lawful, but three senior officers had so far refused to do so. Instead that damn Admiral overhead had ordered her Marines landed! Even now there was a cordon around the Jedi Monastery, and three probing attempts had been repulsed with heavy losses.

Those Marines inbound to the Citadel would come in cold, but they wouldn’t come in stupid. If they succeeded in taking the Citadel Command Center, a full investigation would revel his complicity.

Almost eleven years of work ruined!

“Order Marines approaching the complex to stay away. I want a missile dropped on that damn monastery this minute!”

“Yes sir. “ The aide checked his pad, then leaned over the annunciator. “Capital Squadron, you have a red pill target, I repeat, a red pill target.” He painted the hill where the monastery sat.

*****

“Sir, we’re getting a wave off from the Citadel.” The pilot of the lead shuttle from Star Trader reported. They were at least two minutes ahead of the next wave.

“I don’t care if the Secretary of the Navy is ordering us off, land this ship on the Command dock.” Major Donstan ordered.

Ten seconds later Donstan, the shuttle, and forty men were dead when a chain gun opened fire as they entered line of sight.

The battle of Cornet had begun.

*****

“All Marine units approaching the Citadel, weapons free, I repeat weapons free!” General Cantor ordered. The combined shuttles of ten frigates and twenty corvettes went to full speed, and countermeasures fought against ground systems to get them to their target.

In a number of cases, they failed.

*****

“Sir, snub fighters approaching!” The sensor officer shouted.

Commodore Solo turned, looking at the ships racing toward him. “Armament?”
“Five are anti fighter, four antishipping.” The sensor officer paled. “Sir, three have antimatter weapons aboard!”

*****

Guns blazed as Salutation opened up. She was an older design, and her chainguns were obsolete. But she was still an efficient warship. Several hundred rounds per second streamed out as she defended herself. Star Trader moved from her position to line ahead, and laser light also ripped the sky of the planet. The ships rigged to kill other fighters were ignored as the weapons ripped into the formation. Five exploded, crashing in the woods outside the city, but the other two dived for cover behind their consorts. They raced in, the shock waves of mach seven fighters shattering trees and houses below them. The anti-shipping fighter popped up, firing all four missiles, and died a second later. The last antimatter armed ship followed them in. The three surviving anti-fighter craft punched their throttles full, passing it.

The technique is called rolling back the enemy fire. You fire not one or two but as many missiles as possible. The enemy can kill one or two a second, but every second the weapons and craft not killed are closing.

Salutation ran out of time. Her guns killed the last nuclear missile carrier before it reached firing range at the expense of allowing two missiles to slam into the old ship. Debris exploded outward, and the ship staggered, her lift and drive systems stuttering as it tried to compensate. The frigate turned, staggering half a kilometer away from the monastery before the drive failed, and it plowed into the ground at 200 KPH.

*****

Breia flared the courier out, landing on the Intelligence center roof. She charged down the ramp, running toward the stairwell. Silent agents armed to the teeth watched her pass, an ebon nightmare followed by a blood red one.

She stopped, looking toward her mother’s office. The corridor was torn by weapons fire, the door and it’s frame were just gone. She walked toward the scene, looking at Seela crumpled against the wall, the bodies of six men scattered where high velocity shells had thrown them. Logos was dirty and grim. His armor dented by ricochets that had knocked him down, He saw the approaching figures, stepping in front of them.

Breia ripped off her helmet, bouncing into his arm. “Move.”

“Breia-”

“Damn you, move!” He lowered his arm, and she walked into the room.

Holani lay there, curiously shrunken in death. Someone had covered her face, and Breia knelt lifting the coat. She pulled off her glove, running her hand through the soft hair, then bent, kissing her cheek. Then she stood, the glove sliding back on.

“She got them all.” Logos said from the doorway. “We weren’t in time to help.”

“I don’t blame you.” Breia’s voice was gentle, though her eyes burned with fury. “The Prime Minister’s assistant has a lot to answer for.”

He looked at her. “Breia, you’re about three pages off the script.” He took the pad he carried, and handed it to her. She read it, then again in unconscious imitation of her mother. Then she thrust it back into his hands, put her helmet back on, and stormed out.

*****

“Sir, the fire is dropping in quadrant seven.” The marine pilot reported.

“Use it.”

“Fire is diminishing in sections six and eight.” The countermeasures officer reported.

The shuttle and the four behind it banked sharply, suddenly finding themselves a clear area. The Command building was less than five klicks away, about as many seconds at this speed.

The pilot used the hot zone method, firing retro-rockets less than a second before they would have overshot the building. Everyone was slammed into their restraints as it went from mach three to zero in a ten G blast. The shuttle slammed down, and the men poured out. The instant they were clear, the pilot bounced it fifty meters in the air, dropping toward the ground within that safe zone so others could come in. The entire process took less than five seconds from retrofire to dive.

“Sir!” A Marine pointed at the A4 droid that was busy with one of the guns in section six. As they watched, the droid lifted out the still firing gun, then threw it over the side of the building. The feed tube snarled, then shattered, dropping the gun to the ground ten floors below. To their right, a second A4 was dealing with a gun in section 1 in the same manner.

“You!” Captain Hostin shouted. The droid turned.

“Sorry Captain, I have to finish destroying the system.” It reported.

“Who the hell told you to destroy those guns?” He raged.

“A4L2 did sir.”

“Who the hell told him to do it?”

“No one, sir. We decided that you needed help after the first shuttle was destroyed.”

“We?”

“The other A4 units from Star Trader.” The droid replied. “Why? Were we wrong?”

Hostin decided to save it for his report.

*****

The A4s had the advantage that as droids they were ubiquitous. There were droids everywhere and no one really paid attention to them. The Raiders on the tenth floor had been wrapped and hanging before they had even known they were under attack.

Three floors below Hostin, Marines assigned to protect the building were rigging mines along a corridor when two A4s rolled toward them. Before they could stop them, one raised a plasma rifle. “Surrender or die.“ It said. One of the men dived for his weapon. The men were carbon vapor before they could scream. The rooms on both side of the corridor exploded into flames, then were quenched by the emergency fire suppression system.

“Notify the others that corridor 7-L-2 is clear.” One of them ordered.

“Damn!” The droid that had fired the plasma rifle rotated his eyes surveying the damage. A plasma rifle fires a bolt of fusion plasma, and is usually used only outside a building and by an armored trooper because the bloom raises temperatures by several hundred degrees from the muzzle in a sphere about two meters around on firing. Both of his forward legs and pedipalps had been fried, the legs fused where they had been actually forward of the muzzle. “I think I’ve just crippled myself!”

“No worries.” The second A4 began working on the legs, dismantling the outer shell. “We’ll have you back on your feet in a jiffy!”

*****

“Sir, they’re already down to level seven.” The aide reported. Costi looked at the ceramacrete overhead. They were in the bunker beneath the building, three floors below the ground level. It should have taken at least 20 minutes to clear the floors they had, not five.

“Have the men been told to fight to the last man?”

“Sir, it appears that some A4 droids are doing it. They cleared the Tenth through eighth floor before the shuttles landed.”

“Order all A4s destroyed on sight!”

*****

A4L2 stuck an eye around the corner on the sixth floor. “Another mining operation.” He reported. He set his travel wheels, and rolled around the corner. A hail of gunfire ripped through the droid, and it rolled to a stop, smoking.

-Severe damage-

-Road wheels inoperative-

-System shutdown imminent-

-Query. is this death?-

-Shutdo-

The other droid hurled grenades, blasting the men into gobbets. Before it passed the destroyed droid, it ran a pedipalp over the shattered frame, then clutched his weapons tightly. He rolled on past the bodies, hungry for revenge.

*****

“This is Jedi Courier Padawan Sani of Naboo on approach.” Meeri reported. The Parliament Hall loomed as they approached.

“Jedi Courier, this is the Parliamentary Guard. You are ordered to withdraw.”

“Parliamentary Guard, we are here to arrest a Parliamentary member.” Meeri replied. “We will not withdraw.”

She dived the ship as a chaingun on the roof fired, missing them by centimeters.

“We cannot land under fire.” Desical said. “Weapons active.”

The courier jinked frantically, her own chainguns ripping apart the guns that tried to kill them. Four minutes later The guns had been destroyed.

*****

Breia felt a rush of pain, and looked frantically. The Medical Center long term care building was erupting in a fireball. “Sienna?”

“On it.” She punched the communications board. “This is Jedi Courier Hawk Flight. What just happened at the medical center?”

“Hawk Flight, Marine Shuttle 421 assigned to Frigate Eastwing was shot down and crashed on top of the medical center. We have a lot of casualties here, so if you don’t mind?”

“Thank you. Hawk Flight out.” She looked at Breia. The girl’s face was stone. Her father and mother killed in less than ten minutes.

*****

Desical used his sword to shear through the door leading downward, and Meeri ran to keep up as he charged down the stairway. The office was on the top floor, and he stormed toward the door. He reached it, touched the handle, and felt-

The old man spun, setting his hand on Meeri’s chest, and using the force threw her the length of the corridor. Just before she hit the wall, an explosion vaporized the man.

She staggered to her feet as a dozen Parliamentary Guards came running down the access hall. The man she had come to arrest screamed. “Kill her!”

*****

Breia gasped. “Take the controls!” She screamed. Sienna flipped the switch, smoothly taking control as Breia screamed, curling up in a fetal ball. They were almost at the building, and as she watched, a man ran out onto the landing pad, running toward Padawan Sani of Naboo.

She armed the guns, and put a burst into the engine compartment. The ship settled, smoke pouring from her damaged engines. The man stopped, looking at the approaching ship.

Suddenly Breia sat up, flicked the switch back, and aimed the ship as if she intended to ram it into the building.

“Breia!” Sienna screamed.

As the man dived for the pad, the ship flared out, landing less than a meter from him. Breia was up, charging toward the ramp.

She ran down it, the man leaping to his feet to run toward the stairway. She tackled him, slamming him to the deck. She spun him onto his back, and began beating his face with her fists.

Sienna reached her, catching the upraised arm.

“Let me go!”

“Briea-”

“He killed my mother! He killed my father! He killed Meeri! He tried to kill my brother!” She screamed wordlessly, her fist still trying to punch down through his head into the deck. Only Sienna’s strength stopped her.

“Don’t give into it!” Sienna begged. “Breia, please.”

The tug of war suddenly ended. Breia stood, then stormed to the edge of the building. Sienna looked at her, then at the sobbing man at her feet. “Prime Minister Foren, I arrest you for high treason and mass murder.”

Whew! What a ride! Roller coasters are tamer than this. :)

Whew! What a ride! Roller coasters are tamer than this. :)

How do you think I feel? I had not even blocked it out when I posted the section before two days ago. When I started into it the Muse grabbed my by parts you don't need to consider and dragged me for the last 36 hours!

The worst thing is, I have about thirty more pages before the end and I'm exhausted!

Stop drinking the coffee! :D
While I don't have quite those same parts, I know what you mean--there've been a few nights where I stayed up way too late and feel asleep at the keyboard. One of the perks of having a laptop and lying in bed. :)

Stop drinking the coffee! :D
While I don't have quite those same parts, I know what you mean--there've been a few nights where I stayed up way too late and feel asleep at the keyboard. One of the perks of having a laptop and lying in bed. :)

I have a friend named Mark Lewis who is a professional Story teller from the Renaissance Faire. He describes his muse as an Artist who draws the picture, then Mark colors it in.

Having worked at the same faire as a storyteller, I visualized my Muse as a biker bitch from hell who comes in whenever she wants to, drags my narrow little behind out of bed if necessary, throws me down at the keyboard, and says 'write!'. In fact if you know anything about the Celtic Mythos, I picture her as the leannin Sidhe, who drive men mad if they refuse to bow to her will.

As for laptops, I have one. Unfortunately it is a Compal TSA1 which means it is 14 years old. I have been unable to find a power plug for it, so it is being used as a paperweight.