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| - “You know there’s no way I should be meeting you right now.” “Thank you for coming anyway,” Cassi replied, looking up from perusing the menu as she noticed the man lurking in the shadows. She was in a restaurant, a small dive near the Jedi Temple, dubbed Fistri’s Flatbread. It was a dingy affair, serving sandwiches piled high with toppings squeezed between two flimsy piece of flatbread. The décor was an odd assortment of old speeder parts and sports memorabilia—apparently the establishment catered to sports enthusiasts and speeder crash survivors. There were few patrons at this early hour, and Cassi had quietly taken her seat as instructed by Tyria, waiting for her contact to arrive, keeping an eye alternately on her chrono and the door. Surprisingly, he hadn’t arrived through the main entrance, but rather from the back. Apparently, he’d been keeping a surreptitious eye on her. As he crossed the restaurant, his black boots striding across the scuffed, abraded floor, Cassi fought the urge to stand and greet him. He slid into the other side of the booth across the table from her. He appeared much as she remembered him from twenty years ago: good-looking, bald, with a goatee. His features were schooled into professional inquisitiveness, but Cassi knew that the man was a talented actor and intelligence agent. “It’s been a long time since Hosk Station,” he said, giving her a hard, evaluating stare. “I’m not used to having my favors hang around unpaid for quite this long.” “Yet here you are,” Cassi answered simply, calling his bluff. “I’m here for the one you owe us. I need your help.” “I was afraid of that,” he replied. “An old acquaintance pops up twenty-eight years after the fact and I’m telling myself there’s just no way she’s found a vast sum of treasure and wants to share it with her old friend.” “Let me get to the point, General Loran,” she told him. “I need your help. I’ve been looking into the death of Dmelte Volyken and the publicly available information has been . . . less than helpful. Some friends of mine told me it’s likely the case was intentionally obscured.” Cassi was well-aware that Loran knew of Volyken. When they had first met, Loran’s organization had been helping Volyken defect when they had stumbled into Sarth and Cassi’s room on Hosk Station in the midst of a chase. The two Force exiles had helped Loran and his friends, and the intelligence officer had owed them a favor since then. “Are those the same friends who told you my name and rank?” Garik “Face” Loran asked sharply. “Because neither of those made it into the conversation the last time we met.” Cassi gave him a disarming smile. “General, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important,” she said. “I know you have no reason to believe me, so let me just tell you what I know and why I’m asking about Doctor Volyken so you don’t have to try to tease it out of me.” “Honesty. An interesting approach,” Loran answered noncommittally. “General, three months ago, Doctor Dmelte Volyken was murdered. The murder weapon was a metallic projectile made of a tungsten-durasteel alloy. The killer has yet to be found and no description has been released. This is all public record.” The intelligence officer gave her an impassive stare, waiting expectantly. “I believe that this murder may be connected with a renegade Force-sensitive named Ariada Cerulaen.” To his credit, Loran didn’t stiffen or otherwise betray his familiarity with the name through his body-language. Cassi expected no less of a veteran intelligence officer, particularly one with the famed Lorrdian heritage that gave him such exquisite control over his nonverbal cues. However, through the Force, Cassi detected a small adrenaline spike and his awareness increase. “Keep going,” he told her blandly. “Any information about Volyken’s case may help my friends and I track down Ariada,” Cassi told him. “Which is undoubtedly a priority for the Galactic Alliance.” “Why do you believe that Ariada is connected to the death of Volyken?” Loran asked. “Because of this,” Cassi said, laying a single tungsten-durasteel slug chambered for an S-5S sidearm on the table between them. “Not much of a toothpick,” Loran replied, picking up the round. “Where did you get this? Not exactly a weapon for a nice lady such as yourself.” “Let’s just say I know the manufacturer personally,” Cassi answered. “I know where Ariada got this weapon from.” “Oh?” “She stole it,” Cassi said. “Or possibly made copies of it from the ones she stole after she escaped.” “You sound like you’re more familiar with her than you’re letting on,” Loran probed. “I used to know her,” Cassi replied sadly. “A long time ago . . . but a lot of things have changed since then.” “Such as a newfound affinity for mass murder and terrorism?” Loran replied sardonically. “Such as the dark side,” Cassi answered. “She must be stopped.” Loran held up a hand. “I’m familiar with the importance of stopping rogue darksiders,” he said. “And of the importance of letting silly Jedi types satisfy their self-consuming obligation to handle that particular chore.” “Then you’ll help us?” Cassi asked. “Maybe,” Loran told her. “Let’s make some reasonable assumptions and say that it’s likely that Galactic Alliance Intelligence and probably even the Jedi Order are already looking for Ariada Cerulaen with their own considerable resources. Why should we help you?” Cassi smiled inwardly—this was the question she had been waiting for. Leaning forward to look directly in his dark eyes, she found her next words emerged with surprising conviction. “Because we know Ariada and we can help you find her. If we cooperate, we might be able to find and stop her before she kills more people.” “Fair enough,” Loran said. “My superiors, naturally, would not approve of this—sharing classified data with members of a rival intelligence agency is strongly discouraged.” “Oh, I’m not an intelligence agent,” Cassi told him. “I never was.” Loran was flabbergasted. “Then, what are you?” “I used to be a teacher, and then I ran a refugee aid organization,” Cassi answered. “But mostly I’m retired now.” Loran shook his head, considering her words. “All right,” he said. “You helped us out a long time ago, and Tyria said you could help us again.” He slid a datacard across the table. “This is what we know about the Volyken case,” he told her. “The short version is that he was killed by a single assailant in his home, execution style—one round in the back of the head. All of his computers and datapads were wiped completely—we don’t know what was on them.” “He wasn’t working for you?” “No,” Loran answered, shaking his head. “He was supposed to be just like you—retired.” “Was it more cloaking technology?” Cassi asked, recalling the doctor’s specialty. “We actually don’t know,” Loran told her, frowning with suspicion. “That’s the truth.” “All right,” Cassi said, accepting his words at face value and collecting the datacard. “I’ll make sure this gets in the right hands.” “And whose might those be?” Loran asked. “Ask Jan Ors,” she said. “Ask her about Rishi.” “And who should I tell her sent me?” Loran pressed. “When I asked Tyria, she didn’t mention your name.” Cassi gave him a wry smile. “You’re the intelligence agent, General Loran,” she said. “I’m sure you have your sources.” “Those sources would be better spent looking for our renegade darksider,” Loran countered. “I thought we were partners? I don’t feel very trusted thus far.” Cassi knew he was playing for sympathy, trying to make her feel guilty, but she only partially accommodated him, per Milya’s instructions. “I trust you more than you might think,” she said, retrieving a datacard of her own and sliding it across the table towards him. “In case you need to reach me, either contact Tyria, or call this frequency.” “So, your name is Sue Donnam,” Loran said in disbelief, reading the card. “Cute. In the old days, we tried to make our aliases less obvious.” “Don’t assign more value to a name than it deserves, General,” she said. “Just syllables on a screen.” He nodded and rose to leave. “Thank you for coming—and for your help,” Cassi told him. “Had nothing better to do,” Loran quipped. “All in the interests of galactic security. “We’ll inform you if we find anything of interest,” Cassi assured him. “I’ll pass any messages through Tyria.” “Of course,” Loran said glibly. “Try the nuna melt—it’s pretty good.” With that, the intelligence agent was gone, vanishing towards the back entrance from whence he’d come. Yanibar Sarth Kraen looked out through the expansive window that dominated the far wall of his office. Once upon a time, he would have reflected gladly on the natural beauty of the towering mountains that surrounded and encased the Tusloni Basin where the Force exiles had made their refuge. Now he gazed up at them and hoped they didn’t rain down an avalanche in reply. Ten years ago, the Yuuzhan Vong had discovered Yanibar thanks to the treachery of Ariada. Instead of an invasion army, they had sent one ship with a terrifying weapon: a gravity-manipulating dovin basal. Planted on the surface of Yanibar, it had altered the orbit of one of Yanibar’s moons before being destroyed. While the moon wasn’t going to collide with Yanibar as had happened to so many other worlds during the Yuuzhan Vong invasion, the altered orbit had destabilized the once-sheltered world. Groundquakes now occurred with frightening regularity and the increased tides had forced the evacuation of one of Yanibar’s major cities, Saqua, and the surrounding coastlines. Only vast permacrete retaining walls and shield barriers kept the rampaging waves from deluging Kraechar Industries and its vital work. It was that vital work which now kept Sarth here, instead of on Coruscant with his wife, brother, and other family members. As the head of Kraechar Industries, it was his job to facilitate the evacuation of Yanibar—a monumental task. The door slid open, admitting a man in his mid-forties, his blond hair just beginning to show signs of gray around the temples. Sarth turned to recognize his son as he approached. “Hello, Akleyn,” he said. “Dad,” Akleyn answered. “Any word from . . . the others?” Sarth’s position as the head of Kraechar Arms and the man most responsible for the Yanibar refuge’s technological emergence from a hardscrabble colony afforded him unique capabilities and privileges—one of which was his own secure interstellar comm channel. He’d been using it to communicate with Selu and the others on Coruscant discreetly. “Not in the last three days,” Sarth said worriedly. “I hope they’re all right.” “If anything happened to them—we’d know, right?” Akleyn asked. “I’d probably know if anything happened to Cassi or Selu,” Sarth said. “Just like you’d probably know if anything happened to Qedai. But I’m sure they’re fine.” “But if something did happen,” Akleyn pressed. “What’s our contingency plan?” Sarth grunted, having wrestled with this very conundrum himself over the past week. “There’s not much we can do,” he admitted to his son. “The Council is watching me like a hawk—probably you too. But even if we could get offworld, I don’t know how much help we’d be to a party that includes Yanibar’s best. Obtaining other help might be difficult—the Council wouldn’t stand for an official rescue party.” “Even for some of its founders?” Akleyn asked in surprise. Sarth was silent for a moment. “Your Uncle Selu and Aunt Milya made themselves very unpopular in the last war,” he said. “There’s a sizable faction in the Council that’s been pushing for their retirement ever since then.” “Because of what the Yuuzhan Vong did.” “Exactly. They place the blame for the Yuuzhan Vong attack on Selu and Milya, because if the fleet and many of the Force-users that went to Rishi to defend it had been here—they might have stopped Ariada from escaping. They would have certainly defeated the Yuuzhan Vong before they could have planted their dovin basal.” Akleyn sighed. “I wish Qedai was here. How she can be so hopeful even in the midst of a dire situation like this—well it’s beyond me, but it’s nice to have.” Sarth smiled at his son. “We both miss our wives. No shame in that,” he said, squeezing Akleyn’s shoulder. There was a distant rumble that shook the building and both men retreated to the massive granite desk that occupied the central place in the room, gripping it firmly. “That’s the third one in twelve hours,” Akleyn remarked. “They’re getting worse,” Sarth said. “Even with the bulk of the fleet using their tractor beams to try and stabilize the moon’s orbit, it’s not enough.” “How are the evacuation efforts?” Akleyn asked. “Slow,” Sarth admitted. “There are lots of technical and logistical setbacks.” “Such as?” “Such as how to build ships large enough to carry nearly a million people and their cargo across interstellar space with our limited funds and resources. Such as how to build engines large enough to get those ships in orbit once they are constructed. Such as how to do all this on a deadline,” Sarth said. Realizing how forceful he’d just been, he apologized to Akleyn. “I’m sorry, son. It’s not your fault, or your problem. Didn’t mean to vent on you.” “Don’t worry about it,” Akleyn said. “Sounds like you have enough to handle already.” “We’ve had to redesign the engine inlets for the fifth time,” Sarth said. “All eight of the large evacuation ships have to halt construction until we can get those inlets complete—but simulations of the required thrust numbers for the engines aren’t conclusive. There’s a lot of variables involved.” “Why didn’t you build the ships in orbit?” Akleyn asked. “The shipyards aren’t big enough to handle ships of this size,” Sarth told him. “They’ve also been busy with the Yanibar Guard fleet upgrades. Besides, we don’t have enough transport capability or time to ferry all those people and their cargo from the surface to a ship in orbit. The ships will have to get off the ground somehow. That’s the biggest how I’m working on at the moment.” “What about supplementary boosters?” Akleyn inquired. “You could some kind of repulsorlift or engine to help get into orbit, then detach it once you’re clear.” “That’d be a pretty big repulsorlift,” Sarth mused, scratching his chin as he considered the thought. “But it might be enough to help get us off the ground. I’ll look into it—thanks for the idea.” “No problem, Dad,” Akleyn told him. “I’ll leave you to it—just let me know if—,” “If we hear from the others,” Sarth finished. “I will, I promise.” Coruscant Dawn rose on Coruscant, the sun peeking through the monolithic labyrinth of starscrapers. Its rays glinted off the metallic surfaces, the rays reflecting off of the endless streams of airspeeder traffic. As the first sunbeams peeked through the cityscape, Selu Kraen strode towards the docking bay where he and the others had left the Hawk-bat. Colonel Dristaff had told him that Cresh Squad had seized the ship, securing it and leaving a pair of guards there. Those guards had failed to make their last check-in. Selu’s face was haggard but purposeful. Though his side still pained him and the wound was far from healed, he would not allow that to interfere now. Milya and Morgedh followed behind him, along with a contingent of Yanibar Guard commandos. Milya had been reluctant to allow the Yanibar Guard escort, but Selu had silenced her protestations by reminding her that they had lost two of their own. “How do you know that they are lost?” she’d demanded. A simple look was all the response she’d received. Selu left the airspeeder behind as he and the others descended the staircase leading from the rooftop down into the cavernous structure where they’d left the Hawk-bat. As he descended, Selu recalled the last time he’d seen the ship in such a structure—fifty years ago, when Sarth had introduced him to the original captain of the Hawk-bat, R’hask Sei’lar, and obtained a job that him off of Coruscant during the Jedi Purge. A shiver ran down his spine as he descended the stairwell. Glancing around, Selu found the building was utterly deserted, with nobody around to look askance at three aged warriors entering the building with six fully armed and armored commandos at their back. It was quiet, too quiet, and Selu knew that did not bode well. Wordlessly, he signaled the others to stay back as he reached the door into the Hawk-bat’s berth. Selu stretched out with the Force, searching for the tendrils of danger he detected, hoping to trace them back to their source, but to no avail. With no other option, he swiped the passcard and the door slid open. Selu nodded fractionally and they entered the vast chamber. It was dimly-lit, and Selu immediately noted that the ponderous doors leading to the airspace were open, allowing cyclonic currents of wind to howl and whistle through the chamber. The wind caught his cloak, playing with it as he advanced on the ship. To his relief it was still there, resting placidly on its landing skids. Selu gestured at the glowpanel controls and they came to life slowly, bathing the landing bay in flickering luminescence. That was when he saw them. A row of silhouettes stood at the far end of the docking bay near the lip, standing amongst two or three YGA supply crates. Selu could not detect them in the Force, which did not bode well. “We’ve been waiting for you, Master Kraen,” a cold female voice rang out across the docking bay. Selu froze, signaling the others to halt as well. He knew that voice. “Ariada,” he said, his hand sliding towards his lightsaber hilt. “What have you done?” “What is necessary,” she replied. “What must be done to show the people of this galaxy the danger of their complacency.” “It’s enough,” he told her remorsefully. “Let it go. You can still stop this.” Her mocking laughter told him that his pleas fell on deaf ears. “That’s right, Master Kraen. I’m in control now,” she said. “I dictate what happens next.” “And if what you have planned next is more destruction and suffering, then you know we’ll stop you,” Milya spoke up. Ariada was nonplussed at the sight of the three people most responsible for her training. “Just like these two, right?” she asked sarcastically, gesturing to one side. Selu saw that two Yanibar Guardsmen were strung up, suspended from the ceiling. Their armor’s outer shell was missing and Selu saw their mouths had been tapped shut. They were still alive, but the pall of the dark side surrounding Ariada and her companions suffocated his ability to sense them. “They tried to stop me. They failed,” she enunciated icily. “The only person who has failed is you,” Morgedh told her. “You have failed your upbringing, your teachers, and your ideals, trading them in for the hollow promise of the dark side’s power.” “Your lies and deception are empty, Master Kel’nerh,” Ariada said. “We know what you are, and we know how to beat you.” “We’ll see about that,” Milya shot back. “I guess we will,” Ariada said. “But they won’t.” She gave a quick signal and two muted whirr-chirps resounded, cutting through the wind to reach the others. The two guardsmens’ heads lolled and then hung limply as their skulls were pierced by the tungsten-durasteel slugs. “No!” Selu screamed, but it was too late. There was half a hangar between him and Ariada and even the power of the Force would not get him there in time. “Tying up loose ends, Master Kraen,” she told him coolly. “I figured you’d appreciate that.” “They did not have to die!” Selu shouted at her. “Nobody else has to die! End this, Ariada!” “On the contrary, Master Kraen,” Ariada replied in the same icy tone. “I’ve just begun.” “And that is why this ends now,” Morgedh answered, igniting his lightsaber and springing forward. Selu and Milya followed suit, drawing their own weapons. However, alarm bells were ringing in Selu’s mind—there was no way that Ariada would be so overconfident as to attempt to duel three of Yanibar’s foremost, her companions notwithstanding. Ariada stood her ground as the three Force-sensitives approached, gauging the distance. When she saw them reach an invisible line nearly twenty meters away, she held up a fist to the others around her with weapons at the ready. In unison, the seven figures all dove backwards, leaping off the edge of the hangar into open space. Selu, Milya and Morgedh raced to pursue, but suddenly the deck erupted around them in bright fiery explosions. The three were hurled to the ground by the blast waves, burned by the fireballs and lashed by hot shrapnel. The mouth of the hangar was engulfed in flame as the three Force-wielders collapsed. Selu slowly staggered to his feet, caught off guard by the powerful explosions. The hangar was now a hellish landscape, with choking fumes and flame burning amidst a scarred and torn metal. There was a rumbling sound from above, indicating further danger. He looked up to see a black metallic canister hurtling down towards him and the prone form of Milya. Recognizing the danger, Selu reached down to grab Milya and then leapt away just in time as the metallic case smashed into the ground where he’d been a second before. Three more cases slammed into place around them, then burst open. One of the flying metal pieces crashed into Selu, bulling him and Milya to the shredded and burning deck. If they had been alone, they would instantly died, as the cases had split open to reveal four metallic bipeds bristling with armament. Assassin droids. Their angled photoreceptors glowed an angry red and each had three arms, two in the normal position for a humanoid and a third extending from the nape of the neck to undulate above the head like a menacing serpent. There was a metallic phring sound as vibroblades extended from their wrists. Unlike the hulking monstrosities favored by the Separatists in the Clone Wars, these droids were lean and limber, hunched over like killer predators. They trained weapons on Selu and Milya, only to be caught by a hail of blaster fire. The commandos of Cresh Squad were well-trained and had been far enough from the blasts to only be knocked on their backs. Rising quickly, they had their weapons trained on the droids by the time they’d emerged from their casings. A furious volley of well-aimed blaster fire hit the droids, only to glance off of hazy energy fields. However, the momentary distraction was enough for Morgedh clan Kel’nerh to recover. Leaping up and summoning the Force, he landed on one knee in the midst of the droids, unleashing the stored-up energy in a catastrophic blast that hurled them away. However, the droids were made of sturdier stuff. Springing to their metallic feet, two of them opened fire with repeating blasters on Morgedh, while two more went after the commandos. Flanked, all Morgedh could do was evade and duck the streams of blaster fire, batting it back to the sources as best as possible. He heard the cough of a grenade launcher and leapt aside just the ground where he’d been standing exploded, blaster bolts still tracking him. While in mid-air, batting away energy blasts, he made a quick evaluation of the droid’s capabilities. In addition to the arm-mounted repeating blasters and additional beamlaser in the third arm, one arm sported a grenade launcher while the other mounted what looked to be the type of magnetically-accelerated slugthrower favored by the Yanibar Guard. A pair of slugs smashing into the wall just over his head confirmed the suspicion. Morgedh charged one of the droids, hoping to even the odds even as he battled through sprays of blasterfire. His rush was slowed by the need to track the other droid fighting him. He prepared for one final spring to close the gap when smoke trails began to ignite from the nearest droid’s shoulders. His eyes widened as the cluster rockets streaked towards him and the leap that should have carried him right onto the droid instead was redirected to the side to avoid the smattering of explosions. He alighted with his lightsaber already up, deflecting away blaster bolts as the two droids he was facing circled him, maintaining separation. The steely Noghri could make no headway against either droid and the exertion he was putting out through the Force could not be sustained indefinitely. The droids showed no signs of tiring. He finally ducked under the blasts, closing nearly within saber range when his danger sense sent him an urgent warning. He leapt back just as the third arm unleashed a cryogenic spray that nearly doused him with supercooled vapor. It hit the deck instead, hissing and crackling as it steamed. Morgedh raised his lightsaber in defense once more as the two droids worked to keep him flanked, moving quickly for their size. A blaster bolt slipped through his guard to sear his forearm and he grimaced. They were wearing him out and the bolts he deflected back to their source were having no impact on the energy shields. Furthermore, they seemed to also be equipped with an ion blaster and sonic weapon, and the latter two weapons could not be reflected with the lightsaber, forcing Morgedh to constantly evade the weapons. He was about to make one last desperate charge when a piece of metal rose from the ground to slam into one of the droids, knocking it aside and stopping its weapons’ fire momentarily. Morgedh saw Selu now standing out of the corner of his eye and sprang into action, diving onto the other droid. It moved quickly for a construct and its vibroblades caught his first blow as he leapt onto it from above. He landed behind the droid as it spun around, third arm firing ineffectually at him. Morgedh lunged under another burst of the cryospray, stabbing at the droid’s backside. To his disappointment, the golden lightsaber only ablated some of its armor instead of piercing through. Undeterred, Morgedh jumped to the side to avoid the counterblow from both vibroblades and fought on, hacking away against the two vibroblades while avoiding the blasts and cryospray from the third arm. The droid was well-programmed in hand-to-hand combat, and while its movements lacked the fluidity of a trained Force-user, it had the advantage of being able to largely shrug off Morgedh’s lightsaber and force him to take less than optimal slashes due to the need to defend against the third arm. Whoever had designed the weapons had done a thorough job. He saw that the other two droids had reached the commandos and were cutting through their ranks, unaffected by the blasterfire. Then suddenly, there was a tremendous clang as those two droids were slammed together at near-supersonic speeds. Morgedh was spurred on to see those two out of the fight and vaulted up to curl around his opponent’s armor, stabbing in at its neck with his lightsaber. This time, his blade hit a weakened part and sheared through. The droid’s shield burst and flickered. Its chest began to glow red and Morgedh recognized his danger just in time. Bending his knees to bounce off the droid, he leapt away just as it toppled him over and exploded, battering him with the concussion wave and more shrapnel. He hit the deck and flipped over several times, losing his lightsaber in the process. Morgedh looked up, dizzied, to see the last droid bringing one of its arms to bear on the defenseless Noghri. He raised one hand as if to ward off the blast when a small gray blur slammed into the droid, staggering it. The blaster rounds intended for his head sprayed awry instead. A second blur, which Morgedh’s concussed mind now recognized as a sniper round from the last standing commando, crashed into the droid, punching through its armor and spraying hydraulic fluid. As the droid tried to steady itself, it was hoisted into the air by an invisible fist. To Morgedh’s relief, the droid began to implode as if being crushed by that fist. He turned to see Selu on his feet, a wrathful expression on his face as he called upon his mastery of telekinesis to reduce the droid to a hunk of scrap. It finally triggered its self-destruct with its last vestiges of cognitive awareness, the explosion contained within the Force bubble that Selu had encased it within. Morgedh looked over to see the Jedi Master help Milya up, then walk back over to the commandos, all but one of whom were down. However, the Noghri could not help but look out the yawning mouth of the docking bay to the Coruscant night sky where Ariada and her companions had disappeared into. “She’s still out there,” Morgedh said quietly. “She escaped.” “She lured us here and fought us on her terms,” Milya told him as she walked stiffly over to him, clutching her chest. “We did well just to survive.” “She has had us on her terms for far too long,” Morgedh declared firmly. “It is time to change that.” “This isn’t your fault, Morgedh,” Milya said. “She has eluded me three times now,” Morgedh answered icily. “Twice on Yanibar and now here. I should have stopped her when I had the chance.” “You think you should have killed her after she was defeated those other two times?” Milya asked him. “Would that have made things right, Morgedh? To strike down an unarmed and defeated opponent?” “We differ on that point, Master Kraen,” Morgedh said stolidly, gesturing around him. “She does not seem very defeated to me.”
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