Star Wars: Republic Dawn

[machievelli]

Investigations

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Brasco, Ma’am.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Bondar is my uncle.”

 

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

 

“Cubicle seven.” He turned. “That’s-”

 

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

 

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

 

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

“Well.” He held her away, making a visual inspection. “They’re still feeding you I see. Ready for some lunch?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

*****

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Uh, Brenner Foss.”

 

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

 

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

 

“Thank you Major.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“How is father?” Breia asked.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“And cargo headed for Ando?”

 

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

 

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

 

“Madam-”

 

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

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

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

 

“Enough weapons to outfit a Raider Battalion.”

 

“So, the Aqualish are part of this.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Non-cleared citizen in office-”

 

“Case Omega.” Holani snapped.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“You dared to-”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

He sputtered.

 

“Who else have you informed?” Holani asked.

 

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

 

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

 

“Then perhaps we should call him up here-”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Unfortunately, yes. Their new Premier doesn’t like us.”

 

“What about their navy and Intelligence?”

 

“Her first cousin is in charge of ONI, and her younger brother was appointed as head of Intelligence as you well know.”

 

Holani considered, then made another chip handing it over as well. “Ever hear of Kalo Fortuna?”

 

“No.”

 

“He’s about three levels down from the directorate. He’s a ‘handler’ working for Twi-lek intelligence. He’s too efficient to be political, but he has a web of people in his own organization that have performed admirably. Have that delivered to him.” She turned back to the computer, then handed her yet another chip. “Bib Wanatagi is in their Office of Naval intelligence. As good, as apolitical. After contacting Fortuna, have him introduce your envoy to Wanatagi.”

 

She tapped an annunciator. “Seela, have Logos come in.” She released the stud. “Now if you don’t mind dear, I have an internal investigation to begin.”

 

Breia smiled. “What of our esteemed Prentiss?”

 

“Prentiss couldn’t find his butt with a complete map and a guide. Like our esteemed director, he is a political appointee. But he cleans up well, can quote the jargon as if he is intelligent, and unless you have gotten to know him, at least appears to know what he is talking about.

 

“Now shoo. Some of us have work to do.”

[Jae Onasi]

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.

[machievelli]

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.

[Char Ell]

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.

[machievelli]

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.

[Jae Onasi]

 

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

 

You mean it's not already?

 

 

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....

[machievelli]

You mean it's not already?

 

 

 

 

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.

[machievelli]

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.

[Char Ell]

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.”

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

 

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

[Jae Onasi]

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

 

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.

[machievelli]

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.

[Jae Onasi]

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

 

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

[machievelli]

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.

[Jae Onasi]

Too much fun. Dunning notices, indeed.

I love it when master spies get things done because everyone completely misjudges them as twits.

[machievelli]

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.

[Char Ell]

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!

[machievelli]

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.”

[Jae Onasi]

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).

[machievelli]

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

[machievelli]

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...

[Char Ell]

“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."

[machievelli]

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.

[Jae Onasi]

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.

[machievelli]

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.

[machievelli]

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.”