The base of JA125 was past depletion of half-strength. The other Calamari vessels had already cleared out, now moved at a new rendezvous some dozens of light-years away. All there was left were the vagabonds of activity, the lonely few who finished the last stages of evacuation in uneasy isolation. The memory of the harsh rebel defeat was foremost on the minds of them all, and the implications that the Empire followed straight on the heels of their victory.
Misery may love company, but so does fear.
The silence was not lost on Ivaline Stardrifter as she paused to take out a quiet moment alone in her room, soon to go back on official duty. Neither was the concept of alienation the furthest from her mind. Since suffering her latest defeats, she was feeling less and less of a military leader and more of a figurehead for an armed band of displaced immigrants; immigrants in a land that was as yet largely indifferent to their presence.
The heat of the small, cramped room aboard the Cruiser began to get to her; it was only an improvised thing, badly furnished. She pressed a smooth forehead to the transparisteel of the secured window, grateful for the cool impression on her skin.
It was feeling very quiet right now..
She began to wonder if Embers had been right, that her decision to remain until the last ship had departed was romantic and foolish on her part. It inspired confidence in the men to follow her, but confidence did nothing when the subject in question was eliminated in a surprise advance Imperial assault. He was probably right actually; her staying behind wasn't exactly a completely rational decision that necessarily took the greater good of her forces as the final say. Rather, it was somewhat more personal; one did not send others to do a job that one felt was too perilous for themselves.
But argument against her directives had been short-lived and resolved without dissention. The risk factor was agreed to be low by comparison, and her current absence left Carlyle in charge of the main fleet, a man who, Stardrifter could tell, Embers felt more comfortable with. Not to say that anyone wanted her out of the way, but even she had to acknowledge the morale blow she had recently been given; her military competence was seen to be taking a back seat to her diplomatic ability. But then, the latter was a far more coveted resource these days.
Besides, that knack for words and promises had its own advantages that Embers and Carlyle couldn't produce, that being the penchant for creating auxiliary forces, even if only passive ones. Even now, the Federation starship Cairo was in close patrol of the area, probably the single most persuading factor in silencing argument to Stardrifter's decision to stay with the mop-up crews.
Suddenly, the subjects of her thoughts broke their way into current physical reality with a familiar tone at her door. Initially though, she paid it little more attention than any other intrusion. "Enter." She bid with a sigh, mentally saying an aching good-bye to that moment of contemplation.
A dual alien figure entered, dual in the sense that not only was its race not the norm aboard ship, but that it's function was different from just about everyone else aboard. A member of the Quarren species, it scattered its loose, styled red robes before its feet in an experienced motion. In the clutches of its odd-fingered digits, it carried a thin metal box.
Ivaline's eyes lit up in surprise. "Dreiziz! What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you have gone on ahead?"
Ever noncommittal, the creature seemed to laugh as it moved its free hand up to adjust the translator near its mouth. "Let's just say I could not. bring myself to leave at the current moment."
The Admiral had the fortune of having worked with the Quarren for just long enough to arrive at almost the exact point where she could tell when there was something the Rebel liaison officer was holding something back that was to be leaked in the next few moments. Call it character intuition. Her eyes darted towards the most obvious object that invited speculation. "Does it have anything to do with that thing you're carrying?"
"What, oh this?" Dreiziz' movements became somewhat animated, flipping the smooth metal so that Stardrifter might be able to see what he was holding from a new angle. "I'll admit that this might have had something to do with it."
"What is it?"
The Quarren made an amusing human gesture, cocking its head back and to the side while holding its hands out in mock placation. "Just something I dug up for us while making a formal visit aboard the Cairo; a personal transmitter for Starfleet channels. Picked it up while on a tour with their first officer while you were setting out the initial evacuation."
"But we already have contact with the Cairo-"
"Open contact, yes. Secure contact between head figures? Hardly. It's not a leap of faith to say that the Empire is probably in this area, and that any transmissions we've been making between ships are, theoretically, at risk. This at least will make it harder for eavesdroppers."
The Admiral nodded, more to herself than Dreiziz. It was good logic on his part. "I guess this means things on the diplomatic end are progressing in my handing things over to you with our friends aboard the Cairo out there."
Dreiziz came over to her, held out the device. "It's a bit more awkward than before; they're a bit worried about the fact that they're seeing less of you and more of damaged ships hurrying to get out of the area as fast as they can. Kind of makes them a touch edgy; that's why they'd like to talk to you about it."
Stardrifter smiled to herself and started to rise, but the Quarren's outstretched hand shook what he was carrying obstinately in her face when she tried to do so. "What.you mean now?"
"They're on-line." Dreiziz confirmed, "I've told them bits here and there, but they'd much rather talk to the queen mynock."
"Thanks." She said grudgingly, taking the object from the liaison. "How do you.. is there something you talk into? Hello? Where's the hologram projector?"
"No projector." The Quarren said patiently, "Just press it on the-- no, the other side."
Ivaline turned the machine about on its flip side. "Any word yet from the 'Aurora' over at the Federation base?" She asked, keeping the conversation going as she continued to search in vain for the ON button. She flipped it again.
"Nothing pressing at the moment, it seems. They're making out better than we are here, no doubt; it's looking like they're in direct contact with those in the Federation that have a bit more control over things than those aboard the Cairo. Although they did vaguely mention something about a current hostile situation between the Federation and.. Wait, no, you've got it on its axis for crying out.. Just look under the-oh blast, let me do it!" Taking the situation into his own hands, Dreiziz snatched the communicator and touched a button, causing half of the device to flip up into a flat screen, which immediately scrolled though a now familiar logo of the Federation. Tentatively, he now handed it back to the Admiral.
As Stardrifter watched, a familiar face took form upon the screen in a change so fast it almost made her jump from the lack of gradual effect. Jelico, captain of the Cairo, was staring back at her.
"Admiral." He said, smiling. "Good to finally see you again."
She returned the expression warmly. "Captain. Sorry for being out of touch, but there's been a lot to take care of on my end; I'm sure you understand."
"Definitely." came the response, "And I'm rather concerned about it, to tell you the truth. Your liaison mentioned something about a possible attack?"
"Precautionary measures." Stardrifter confirmed. "Our last defeat has undoubtedly brought the Empire into this region of space, looking for us. Relocating would be best for all parties involved."
"So we've been told, and agree." Jelico said. "Have you picked an area of destination?"
"I want to keep it as random as possible. There's no hard decision for a new base as of yet, but I've had a number of long ranger probes and scout teams sent out-we'll probably keep in range of the surrounding territory close between the Cardassians, Ferengi and Federation."
"All right. be advised that for the time being though, we've got some pretty vital ship's diagnostics that are already currently on the run." He trailed off, his mind clearly on something else.
There was a slight pause between speakers as Stardrifter waited for what was to come next.
"Mind if we tag along?" The Federation captain added in a sudden patch over the silence, one given almost too quickly to be casual.
Ivaline appeared confused by the offer. "Tag along? What, come along with us? I don't know if that's really necessary-"
"Well. its just that I've orders from Starfleet to keep in constant contact with you, as much as can be possibly ascertained." Jelico answered, explaining while his face kept an awkward expression that exaggerated his current politics. "They'd like to know just where this non-allied fleet of ships within their sphere of influence is at all times, and that's going to be difficult if we don't know your next change of address."
Stardrifter sat back on the couch she had been lounging on ever since the intrusion on her privacy. "Thanks Captain, really; but your presence here is enough. The Rebellion values its secrecy above all else, ally or enemy."
"Are you sure that's completely wise, Admiral?" Dreiziz interjected suddenly. "We are basically on our own out here."
"Your liaison has a point." Jelico said, supporting the voice he couldn't see, but likely recognized. "You're in new territory."
"We're also fighting a civil war." Ivaline countered.
"Civil war? Not in this region of space you're not." Jelico countered.
"You mean not yet." Stardrifter said grimly as she lifted her gaze up into the Quarren's direction.
"New territory, new rules." He urged her.
"But there is the unnecessary danger if the Empire attacks."
"TheCairo is equipped with the capacity to deal with a military situation." The Captain said, trying to ease tension for her. "If you want, we can issue a general comm silence with Starfleet command until it is convenient to resume contact."
Her eyes, now trained back down on him, narrowed. "Are all the Captains of the Federation like you? Obstinate, stubborn, and if I may be so bold, a touch stupid?"
"Only the good ones. What do you think got me into the command chair?"
She snickered a bit, put her palms up in surrender. "Fine. You want to lose your heads along with the rest of us, fine by me. I'll let your ship escort us for the time being. We'll send you the rendezvous coordinates shortly."
"Thank you, Admiral. Think of us as your guides to the Alpha Quadrant." Jelico insisted.
"A 'big brother' Federation." The Quarren added in such a way that Stardrifter had to wonder whether there had been some form of conspiracy between the two on this matter.
As to the endearing term Dreiziz used, Jelico failed to go so far as to affirm it.
"I have one condition." The Admiral then said, her voice becoming more brooding and serious. "And this is nonnegotiable."
"What's that?" Jelico's brow furrowed in concern.
"When I say go, you go."
The Starfleet officer's mouth remained parted for a few moments, then closed. "Understood." He stated quietly.
"Thank you." The Rebel leader replied. "If you'll excuse me now, Captain, I've got to return to those internal affairs that have been constantly forcing me to put our impeccable liaison officer in charge of our dealings with you."
"Understood Stardrifter." Jelico repeated, but this time regaining some of his good humor.
"Oh, and Captain?" Ivaline suddenly added just as it seemed their contact was at an end.
"Yes?"
"If all the good officers are like you, I'd hate to see the bad ones."
"Bad ones?" Jelico replied, faking a confused expression, "No, I was lying, there are no bad ones. Really, it's true. Cairo out."
As soon as the image on the screen was darkened and the panel closed on itself once more, the human woman turned up towards her alien subordinate. "When this evacuation is complete, the two of us have some things to talk about." She told him in a scolding manner that was not altogether out of cheer, handing him back the Federation device.
But surprisingly, the Quarren outdid her with dark overtones. "Keep it." He said, referring to the machine and beginning to show himself out of her quarters. "I have my own; and you might want to contact me with it when I board back upon the Mon Creyal. You say we have a discussion ahead of us-I'm not certain you completely realize just how true that is."
"So this is the man, then?"
"We cross-referenced the crew roster, he didn't match up."
Vice-Admiral Thrawn nodded to the stormtrooper, a movement all high commanders regularly did to the members of the fanatical legion; the gesture of approval from those such as Thrawn, those that had the taint of the Emperor in the workings of their ranks worked on them like some high-sensory drug. Thrawn happened to have more than almost all others of his position due to his alien status, so the regular bias shown him tended to be dropped by the average stormtrooper. Replaced was the sense that the godly Emperor himself had laid eyes on this figure and judged him somewhat worthy of life and service, despite whatever inherent ethnic frailties, and the mere hint of that shade of inner-working was enough to generate an form of, if not respect, admiration.
So it was, oddly enough, Thrawn could be much more expected to be given an even hand by a stormtrooper whom he had never met (who could ever tell with those masked fanatics anyway?) than the average member of the Imperial navy.
But these facts were currently far away from anyone's mind, given the situation before them. A pair of stormtroopers, Captain Hark, and Thrawn himself stood in a nondescript corner of the 'Titan', surrounding a solitary man who appeared very small in the exposed lighting.
The central character in this scenario, the Vice-Admiral, was currently addressing someone stationed just next to the doorway, an official of authority within the 'Titan's brig. "If he wasn't part of the crew, what are your speculations as to his reasons for being aboard?"
"We're not exactly sure sir-we think he might have had something to do with the Frigate's weapons enhancements during the past Rebel engagement."
"I see." Thrawn mused carefully, passing his pupiless red eye over the prisoner's flushed countenance. "A go-between, perhaps? A simple engineer?"
"If that." Hark uttered, throwing in his own opinion.
"Mechanic, then." The Vice-Admiral shrugged. "And that too might be an exaggeration, but he would be of immense value in any case. Can he understand what we're saying?"
"He's given no indication and spoken not a word since his capture," The brig officer replied, "But we think he understands us well enough. Scans have shown an inorganic implant inside his cranium that is probably some sort of advanced translator. If you wish, we could have it removed."
"That's unnecessary." The blue commander advanced a step towards the prisoner, "Time constraints won't allow for such an operation even if it really had any practical merit, which it doesn't."
Hark frowned. "Constraints? Do you have a plan for him?"
"Not precisely, but it doesn't take much thought to realize this one will be a valued commodity that central command will want to look over."
"You want him put back on the other side of the Wormhole?" Hark questioned. "We could put him to work on our own ships there."
"Further than that Captain, I'm afraid." Thrawn said, sounding annoyed. "Think; would you really allow a stranger, much less a prisoner, to work on your own field ships? That's inviting sabotage! No, his closed mouth requires the presence of those that have the time and patience to pry it open, and out here, at the current moment, I have neither to spare. We'll be preparing a shuttle to Coruscant for him, best to do it before the Emperor's underlings ask for the man themselves."
"Yes Admiral, I'll have the craft prepared immediately with a personal stormtrooper and blastboat escort."
"Arrange orders for some smaller capital vessels to meet with them along the long trip home." Thrawn directed as an afterthought, "Things are becoming more random and perilous for lonely travelers in the galaxy as of late." Then, casting aside the glittering bauble of the moment, he turned to go.
Silent by choice, Withiar had already withstood ill treatment by his captors. A shove here, a punch there by the black helmeted naval crew. oddly enough it was those creepy soldiers in white who had showed him the most kindness of complete indifference. Only once had the brig officer now at the doorway tried to get anything out of him, and it had been a halfhearted attempt that had been more about beating him and leaving no prominent physical scars than getting any reliable information. What he was enduring now he deemed far worse - on display for the enemy, a trophy arrogantly discussed upon back and forth that was, ultimately, disposable.
Such was the fate of all Maquis in these cold years.
Guls, Admirals, Captains. These men of authority were all alike no matter their nationality. Get out of the chair and come down here, and old James will show you uniformed, paper men how he and his brother stayed alive on the surface of Jaenor XI for two months. Two months on the run from the Cardassians, while keeping company among what most citizens of the Alpha quadrant labeled as 'terrorists'.
Without realizing it, Withiar had actually stood up and taken a step towards Thrawn. He was back down in almost the same instant, A stormtrooper sweeping his legs out from under him, splaying him flat onto the floor as his armored knee pressed into his back. A very real blaster rifle nozzle pressed hard against the side of his head, at such pressure as was sure to leave a mark.
Thrawn immediately stopped at the sound, but had not yet turned around. "The prisoner can indeed understand us, it would appear."
Hark, acting of his own accord, came as close as he dared. "Who are you? Where are you from?"
Withiar actually smiled. To hell with you, buddy. "Kirk. My name is James Tiberius Kirk. I am a Tribble, native of Ferenginar, and my favorite color is whatever that uniform of yours is."
His back still turned, the Vice-Admiral's jet-black head nodded. "And he can speak as well to us. Formidable device within him, it would appear."
"I don't think he's telling the truth." Hark stated.
"That doesn't matter, it's been proven he can communicate." Which meant he was of immediate use after all. He glanced a red eye towards the brig officer - no, too obtuse for his purposes. It would be best to call in Grendel on this.
Grendel, the willowy stormtrooper under his command with that cunning way about him. cunning in the form of past, forgotten Imperial glory. But he had been left with the patrol garrison on the other side of the Wormhole, which was problematic.
"Your orders have changed?" Hark asked.
"Have a messenger aboard the shuttle. They will proceed across the wormhole, at which point the prisoner will be handed over to Grendel."
Hark's collarbone gave a small, involuntary twist. "Grendel, the Sergeant-Major?"
"The same. He will be given orders from there. After our fleet returns from it's initial scouting, we will return to the Wormhole behind them." Thrawn smiled. Even the high-ranking commanders in this region knew of Grendel well enough to fear him. Exactly the man for the job, and he'd no doubt appreciate the gesture in return. "By that time, I'm certain we'll know enough about what's going on to begin to take action on our part."
"Yes sir." Hark said, moving away from Withiar.
But the Maquis, having come this far to communicating with them, didn't fancy himself done. "You won't find them!" He cried out, still prone under the stormtrooper's fascist heel, "We have entire sectors of space to hide in! The Maquis are still alive and we'll see you all buried along with your Cardassian collaborators!"
It was now that the Vice-Admiral turned. Cardassian collaborators? "Young man," he intoned, "You have no scope. I have the same problem with other men in my command though, so it's not to be ashamed of. Whoever you're referring to, and I assume it to be the Rebellion, have no fear. Run and hide, raid our marginal outposts all you like. Your movement concerns me no longer. I will order no pursuit; there is far too much to be done, and your thin resources are such that you are of minimal priority, set against monstrous others."
Withiar said nothing, confused. His glazed eyes peered up at his blue-skinned captor.
"In short, I advise you to shut up. You'll have your time to speak later." Thrawn told him, then left.
Kola glanced around. There was no one in the corridor for now, but that could change quickly. Both she and her partner were wearing mechanic's gear, Kola's hair cropped short and grease smearing her face, her disintegrator disguised as a hydrospanner clipped to her tool belt. Fuqua's disguise was less elaborate, and his toolbelt concealed the deadly ordinance he carried.
They were taking a bulkhead apart to deal with a fully legitimate wiring problem. It was simply chance that it was next one of the main computer backups.
Fuqua replaced a rerouter with a nergon-13 charge, and set the timer. It was nearly indistinguishable from the normal appearance of the circuitry. With the lack of skilled mechanics aboard this vessel (the fact that he and Kola had been immediately been pressed into service was an indicator of that), no one should be checking on his work for at least a week by normal maintenance schedules, but in practice probably not more than a month. ISD's were notorious for their bad wiring and other design problems. Of course, that was all part of the plan.
Quenda awoke on Coruscant with the sense of the presence. That was all she knew, and all she could think about. There was no haze of semi-consciousness to her return to reality; her slumber merely fell apart like a broken window.
A summons. She was being summoned, the ethereal voice carrying over from somewhere very far away. Only two names pulsed in her head, one from old memory, and one never before heard of by her ears.
One was Yoda. The other, Dagobah.
She knew she had to leave at once, had to get to wherever this Dagobah was, once she found its location. Already far into the wayward hours of the evening, she rose and dressed as quickly as she could.
The halls of the floor her room was on were nearly devoid of all activity. The Alderaanian Embassy was usually bustling with activity below, and enjoyed frequent traffic even on the higher, more private levels. Now though, there were only the stiff guards, armed and watching her move out of the corners of their eyes.
Quenda stole away to the archaic styled stairwell to avoid the elevator, climbing only a single floor to reach her destination. Turning right, she trod softly on the plush red carpet until she reached the chambers of Bail Organa himself.
One of the two troopers at the door halted her entrance with an outstretched palm. "Sorry m'lady, the Viceroy is sleeping."
"I know, but the business is urgent."
"It will have to wait until tomorrow. He is not to be disturbed."
Quenda frowned. There was no time to deal with this. "If I was to be stopped," The young woman asked, angling her voice and pitch, "Wouldn't it have been done downstairs?"
The guard said nothing, but looked to his companion.
"Really, what reason is there to be alarmed? I'm here on the Viceroy's behalf. Besides, I'm unarmed."
The soldier looked again at the Female Jedi, and then back to his counterpart. "Really, what reason is there to be alarmed? She's here on the Viceroy's behalf. Besides, she's unarmed."
The doors opened for Quenda seconds later.
Inside, she found quite a different situation than had been described to her; apparently the guards had been covering for their charge, as any respectable sovereign protector would do. Organa was indeed awake, and she found him reclining in his sitting room, holding some mysterious, informal midnight council that she had not been invited to. She knew most of the faces well, and recognized a few others missing as she had been just moments before. There was one pair that stood out as unknown to her though, a woman and a strange alien creature that had the form of a Klatoonian to it.
Bail turned quickly, his movements at first somewhat paranoid, but he settled down once he saw the new face entering the room. "Quenda, dear. I should have known there would be no need to wake you."
"I require a word with you, Viceroy."
"That's good, because I need to speak with you as well." Organa answered, and waved a hand out to the assembled figures. "You know mostly everyone here-sorry that I didn't have you roused, but this entire meeting has been less than planned, and I only wanted the most necessary staff on hand."
The comely Jedi looked over the crowd once again; stopping at the new figures whom still had yet to be introduced. "I've not met everyone, Viceroy."
"That's right, so you haven't." Bail said, correcting himself. "Unforgivable on my part, as this whole situation depends on you knowing who these two sitting just across from me are. Quenda, allow me to introduce Devraania Khelandros of Bilbringi, and Mixaul Aus'Logron, of Klatooine."
The woman smiled, though it was not a forthcoming one. "Charmed." She spoke simply. The rough-skinned green alien said nothing.
Seeing as her own business would have to wait for the current moment, Quenda allowed the floor to be taken away from her. "What's this all about?"
"What Mothma's agents were talking about the other day on the Senate floor. Devraania here 'works' under Iblis, you see, but she's only just returned after an extended leave from the Imperial capital."
"I thought you said you wanted to be associated as little as possible with Iblis and Mothma."
"This couldn't be avoided." The one named Devraania replied. "I insisted upon it."
"I've had precautionary measures taken." Organa supported, "No Imperial listening devices within possible range. Although I'll admit I too was not pleased to see them show up like this at first. I'm still not sure if I am now, in fact, knowing what they have to say."
"And that is?" Quenda asked.
"The Rebellion has hit a snag of sorts." The more talkative of the two newcomers explained, "One that was at first beneficial, but is currently unraveling and becoming more complex by the minute."
Quenda looked to Organa, who immediately recognized an unsaid request to enter further into the room. Nodding his leave, the Jedi advanced towards the table, pulled out a chair and seated herself in it. "I'm listening."
"Some of our scouts discovered a spatial anomaly some few months ago." Devraania went on, "A wormhole, intergalactic in nature. It's properties were, and still remain, uncertain, but when we sent a small expeditionary force though, it returned with reports of new, unseen and uncharted regions. Regions the likes of which neither the current government or the Old Republic before it had ever seen.
"The forces in the area at the time contained inner contacts that led back to me, which in turn found its way to Iblis. The Senator wisely saw the opportunity at hand, as evidence of a number of star faring races was reported to have been present. He ordered an allocation of some of our forces there, which have had the opportunity to build up a sizable fleet resource safe from the eyes of Imperial patrols and probes."
"So what happened?" Quenda asked, concern growing.
"Well-you see, I have been and always will be a strong supporter of the Senator, have no doubts as to that... but he gave an order that some might have deemed premature; an attack on Imperial facilities in uncharted space."
"Premature how?"
Devraania closed her eyes and clasped the open palms of her two hands together as if in prayer, touching them to lips devoid of cosmetic appearance. "The plan, as I think Garm envisioned it, was to run a strike against Imperial presence in the uncharted regions, so as to pry them loose and gain more of a fortified resource base that the Rebellion could draw from. The Imperials would be loath to attack without committing a good deal of their regional forces-ones that were really needed elsewhere. It might have worked, actually; but apparently the Imperials anticipated the methods used by the Admiral in control, and a worst case scenario has developed-The Empire now knows of the Wormhole."
"That about fills you in to where we just were when you entered." Organa said now, taking over. "Things are looking bleak. Garm hasn't been seen for the past few days by anyone talking to me, and I assume Mothma as well. Communications being what they are, Devraania being here probably represents an Imperial meeting of the same sort being carried on right now in the halls of the Imperial Palace." With these last words, the Viceroy gestured to a nearby window whose large, open view held the said building in focus, probably less than two miles distant and towering over all other structures within any radius of sight.
"Like all our field operatives, almost all of those within the Wormhole don't know about the larger Rebel picture." Devraania interjected. "They might see themselves as a less cohesive movement than they really are and try some desperate maneuvers."
"Yes, Mothma and I once had a brief conversation on the need for some for of centralization." Organa admitted, "But we both came to the agreement that the political situation here won't allow for it."
"Viceroy, with all due respect, the Rebel 'Alliance', as your colleague so named it, is working in name only. The only people keeping it going are those like me, couriers and communications people zipping around, in hyperspace more often than out of it."
"The status of the Rebellion is not the issue at hand." One of Organa's aids reminded her.
Devraania became more adamant at the challenge. "It should be! This situation might not have developed if the people on the other side had known about everything else going on! The execution out there is unavoidably lousy; half of us know things that the other half don't, and need to! All we're accomplishing are a few raids to annoy the Empire, and then."
A hand on her shoulder stopped her. The Klatoonian at her side, responsible for the deed, held it there a moment longer, then released it.
"It's only a matter of time before they begin cutting us off at the middle, between you and the scattered cells in the field." Devraania said, finalizing her point.
"Then we will prepare for such a move." Organa assured her, "But the Wormhole, and its relation to Iblis, carries priority at the moment. The senator represents a full third of our strength and resources-it would prove a grievous blow if it turns out he's been found out, or worse. Plus, there should be a supply convoy in hyperspace towards the wormhole at the moment.one of our Assault frigates guarding an large convoy of mostly unarmed transports..and one of the first shipments of the new A-wing fighter."
"Have you come up with a plan yet?" Quenda asked, pursing her lips.
"Hmph. Hardly, that's wishful thinking at it's worst." A cynical man seated in a far corner uttered. Although only a simple phrase, the words stood out in an uneasy fashion, cutting through the assembly with their direct implications.
"Jastow.." Bail gave the partially hidden man a disapproving, warning look, then turned to his retainer. "Nothing as yet Quenda, this is all still new to us. What was it you wanted to say, anyhow? Your reason for coming seemed rather important."
The woman looked about at the assembly. "I..I was hoping for a more secluded setting."
The Viceroy's brow furrowed. "Is it a private matter?"
"No. not precisely. But it does deal with. sensitive issues."
Reading between the lines, Organa mulled over his options. "I see. then it's best we called a brief recess for the time being. All of you, go get into proper attire and out of your evening wear; get something proper to eat too, we're going to be working overtime. Be back in less than an hour."
Since it took no leap of intelligence to realize that they were being momentarily shuffled out for an undermining reason, the process went through very slowly, Jastow giving the most slack to his movements.
Before long though, the entire assembly was gone, leaving only the Alderaanian Viceroy and his force-sensitive retainer. "All right, what is it?"
Quenda believed it best just to come out and say it. "There's been a disturbance in the Force."
Bail frowned visibly. "What, is it Vader? Is he on the move against us.?"
"No, no. nothing like that. If anything, this is a positive development."
"Oh." Organa let his guard down, feeling somewhat foolish for vehemently assuming the worst case scenario in a field that he really had no empirical knowledge to speak of. "Positive in what way?"
"I'm pretty sure it was a summons from a powerful Jedi."
"Powerful Jedi? There's another alive!?"
"Someone had to have made contact with me, and it wasn't Vader; even if he did know of my existence, he wouldn't have been able to mask himself from me." Quenda's face glowered in upon itself for a moment and her gaze moved back to the open window overlooking Coruscant. She pondered on that another a moment.did he mean her, or someone else?
"You think it might be someone new, or did somebody else actually escape the purge? Do you know who it is?"
"I think I have a good idea." She replied, turning back to Organa and holding his gaze tightly. "Yoda."
There was a moment of stunned silence. "No-impossible. Yoda's dead, he was a part of the Jedi council. They were the first to be executed."
"That's the sense I had of the presence." The Jedi said, not to be told otherwise. "If it wasn't Yoda, it was someone with enough power to mask his presence for Yoda's, and such a Jedi hasn't been seen since at least the Clone Wars, if that."
"You know him, don't you? Yoda, I mean; didn't you study under him or something?"
"In a manner of speaking." Quenda affirmed. "I trained under Jedi master Noros Svel-neigen, who was himself a student of Yoda. I met him more than a few times, enough so that if I saw him in passing the two of us could carry on a conversation."
"Apparently he thought highly of you." Organa remarked, "Your position here with me was actually made by Ben Kenobi. He told me of your need for a place to weather the storm."
"Yes, I've always wondered why he'd done that, Kenobi. It's never really made a lot of sense to me."
Bail sat up, looking outrightly confused. "But Ben Kenobi was a student of Yoda. Didn't you know that?"
Quenda's eyes widened in shock. "He was? Are you sure?"
"I'm certain of it. I fought with the man in the Clone Wars; became good friends, he and I. I just assumed you knew."
"No, I had no idea. I've never met Ben Kenobi, only heard of him. I just thought he was a particularly observant Jedi, trying to get as many of our kind under cover as possible before the Empire found us all exposed."
"Now that is odd." Bail mused, bringing a hand to his chin. "very odd."
"Something wrong?"
"No, it's just that.. well, I've been in politics a long time, and I can spot a scheme a mile away. You being here with me, but not knowing how you came about the position. Yoda's now ambiguous existence. I can tell there is, more than likely, something missing from this picture."
For the first time since entering the chamber, Quenda smiled. "I'd go along with that."
"Well, if it's true, this Jedi Master is a master of long-term planning and foresight, I'll give him that." He paused, then put his hand down onto the table, tapping it habitually. "Where did you say you thought he was?"
"I didn't." Quenda said, "In fact, I don't really know for certain. But the summons did mention one thing; a planet called Dagobah. Yoda and Dagobah are the only two phrases I remember from the episode-it came to me in sleep."
"Dagobah. Is it a place? Never heard of it."
"Neither have I. That's probably a good thing, though."
"Yes, agreed." Organa stood momentarily; crossed to the window to stare out at the nocturnal skyline of the Imperial capital. "Quenda. I have a favor to ask of you."
"Speak it, my lord."
"I want you to return to Alderaan. We're sending support to the Wormhole as soon as possible, before the Empire gets there. I want you to be in charge of putting the force together, assembling commanders for the mission. All very under wraps, of course."
"But.. Yoda?" The woman asked, a little out of sorts that the question of the Jedi master seemed to become suddenly eclipsed.
Bail hesitated a second "There's a Caamasi.elder living with the Remnant, named Ylenic It'kla. If you find the time, ask him about Yoda. If alive, Yoda would be a tremendous asset, but we're in a crisis at the moment. You're good with numbers, and you had an excellent service record in the dwindling years of the Clone Wars, considering your age at the time. I need someone reliable to put the entire operation together."
"Yes. yes, Lord."
"And. I want you to check on my daughter too he added, sounding somewhat more submerged and melancholy this time. Quenda did not affirm that request; she didn't feel as if she needed to.
"I want you back here as soon as it's over." He said further, turning back into the room, almost pacing. "Things are beginning to heat up here, I can feel it. It's been quiet for too long; the Emperor is in position to make another move to consolidate himself."
"But."
"I'll send a few teams out to this Dagobah place to check it out. The very best men to spare. If there's anything there, they'll comb the surface for it. But now, I need you here, in the Core regions and close at hand."
Quenda's hair fell over her face as she bowed her head in silent obedience. After all, one did not question the Viceroy when his resolve was firm, not even her.
Kola looked aroung the break room while Fuqua engaged in converation with the ranking mechanic. She checked ship's diagnostics.plenty was wrong, but that was nothing new.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud laugh from the burly engineer.
"Nope, nobody sleeps here until the ship's finished." His eyes glittered devilishly, and Kola barely hid a smirk.
"You see," the blond-haired man continued, we all drink too much kaffe to sleep at all, so they don't bother to assign us quarters. There's always new work to be done, wires fray, fires break out, and." The ship rocked as a series of explosions went through it.
With a agility that belied his bulk and apparent age, the engineer, rushed to the control pattern and called up the ship schematics. He turned and grinned wryly at Fuqua. "And things blow up."
"Last preparations have been made Admiral, there's no residual proof of our presence being here aside from our own ships."
Stardrifter gave the junior officer a sidelong glance, then nodded her approval. "Good. Make preparations for hyperspace."
There was a persistent tap from behind her shoulder.
"Oh. right. and send the coordinates of the Rendezvous point to the Cairo. It appears they'll be coming with us for the time being."
The young Lieutenant paused, eyes drifting between Ivaline and the figure at her shoulder. Eventually, he saluted and left to attend to his orders.
"You're rather keen on this 'Federation', Dreiziz. That's probably not such a swell thing." Stardrifter remarked, only half turning her head to look at the nearby Quarren. "Some might say a weakness."
"What, that I'm being too trusting? Admiral, the fleet you've allocated here is an exceptional piece of work, but it's my job here to look at the galactic picture. You know what the Rebel galactic picture tells me?"
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me." Ivaline sighed, putting her head into her open palm.
"When someone offers you an open hand, by the force, you take it. You take it and run with it. It's a nice fleet of yours Admiral; it might even stand up for a few hours to some of the garrisons in the core systems. But trust me, we need more."
"Well we've got ourselves a start, at least." Stardrifter began sitting up in her chair. "I figure this: We stay on this side for a while, build up our strength while keeping on the move and, if you're right, maybe even accomplish it under sanctuary from this 'Federation'. To crew the ships, we send for a lot of the disaffected and broken Maquis."
"That'll obligate you against Cardassia." Dreiziz warned. "Definitely. I admit, this is only short-term planning. While we're here, I have no problem against running Cardassian raids-they've not made our 'happy' list over the past few months. But the eventual goal will of course be to return and unite up with the rest of the Rebellion. By then they should be built up a bit too, assuming they're still there. Xa Fel, Naradeen and Mon Calamari are only three worlds out of thousands and thousands."
Dreiziz briefly considered partially letting her in on his own unique perspective due to his position in the Alliance, but decided against it. "Uh. yeah. only three planets.. but, like you said, it's a start."
"Yes, that's what's important." He gaze went over the men and women bustling about their stations. "Tell me Dreiziz, do you think I'm a soft commander?"
If the Quarren were human, a worried expression would have washed over his face. As it was, only the tentacles about the lower head began twitching and tensing themselves. "A soft commander? No, why would you say such a thing?"
"I'm not fishing for compliments here, I'm asking your opinion honestly. I need to know the general opinion of me at all times in order to know where to apply internal pressure. I sensed Embers was less comfortable taking my orders after our last battle."
Dreiziz waved her off. "Losses are always followed by a brief morale decline. Embers will turn around."
"He will turn around, or I'll remove him." Ivaline replied in a voice of stone, "But that's not the point, really. We're cut off from home in regions of space we're not exactly familiar with, on the run from the Empire. These people aren't Imperial stock; you have to watch yourself sometimes. It doesn't take an idiot to realize that we need positive news, and soon."
The pair sat in silence for some minutes longer as the last convoy of vessels prepared to head out to meet with the rest of the fleet. Slowly, the metal hulks aligned into formation, pointing towards a distant, invisible location.
Alarms went off as Kola and Fuqua exchanged a puzzled glance. It wasn't one of theirs; Fuqua had checked the schematics and they hadn't set any at the focal point of the blast. Fuqua strapped on his toolbelt as the other engineer started yelling orders into the communication systems. Kola put on her best "I'm clueless" face and walked over to the chief. "Excuse me, but what exactly is going on?"
Lt. Akran turned, a obscenity on his lips, until he saw who had asked. His face took on the standard Imperial patronizing look and he smiled sardonically at her at her. "One of the self-destruct charges went off, dear.we're not sure why. Caught a weapon storeroom in the blast radius. Meitzger was in charge of that section." The lieutenant flipped a few switches on the com interface. "Meitzger? You read?"
"Loud and clear, sir. What in the name of the Sith is going on?"
"I should ask you that." The chief stated, visibly trying to conceal his anger on the com. "Self-destruct charge spontaneously went off.almost took out the engines, most likely killed maybe a hundred people. That's your area; what do you have to say for yourself?"
The apprehension was tangible in the underling's voice. "Sir?"
Akran's eyes narrowed. "I asked you a question, Meitzger.I expect it to be answered. Now."
The other sputtered. "A computer interface was down in that area.I sent the implant to deal with it."
"You mynock! You sent a rebel-trained implant on maintenance?"
"Uh, yessir. We were low on personnel, and the deadlines were very tight.I needed more men!" His voice took on a desperate tone.
"Look, Rebels give their implants free will.they don't hook them up to the computer. Don't you know that?"
The man stuttered "It seemed harmless enough."
The chief sighed "They all do, Meitzger. You know you're going to be court-martialed for gross incompetence at the very least.more likely executed on the spot. It's on your own head. Akran out."
The chief slumped. "He had it coming.but I thought the kid had better sense then that." He walked over to the computer terminal and motioned for the silent black R2 unit to log in. Soft, almost musical sounds were heard, and then a beep as access was confirmed. Akran addressed the 'bot "Anissa, locate prisoner 34-Jenth"
A few seconds passed, and then Basic scrolled across the translator unit.
Unable to comply.
Akran swore loudly and inventedly, and keyed the com again. "Bridge?"
Only static answered him.
"Corvette Outland moving into hyperspace." A bridge officer intoned.
The woman standing over the communications station turned towards Stardrifter. "The Cairo acknowledges the destination given them and says they'll follow, just as long as we wait for them."
"Reasonable enough." Ivaline said, watching the curved, rectangular bridge view screen as the Corvette winked out of sight in a shade of an instant. "What's the status one the other two Cor."
"Admiral!" The woman from communications called to her again, "The Cairo is sending word of a vessel heading in-system!"
Stardrifter got up with feline agility. "What's its make, bearing and speed?"
"They say it's unidentified, headed for our position! Their long- range scanners were undergoing."
"Later! What's the make of unidentified Target?"
"They say they don't know!"
Ivaline cursed her luck; all those scanners aboard the Cairo, and they couldn't even tell her what was coming at her. "Can they at least draw us a diagram???"
"Admiral?" The officer's face drew back.
"Never mind. Go to red alert; battle stations. Have the turbolasers on all vessels begin charging; I need to know this ship's inbound position!"
"Not on our scanners yet, Admiral. It should be coming up on us right."
And then, there was. A Star Destroyer, right in front of her outside the viewport, barring the hyperspace trajectory.
"Oh, damn." Dreiziz muttered from behind, putting an alien hand across his face.
In another second, the massive triangular vessel's bays began launching waves of miniature fighters.
"Oh, DAMN!" Dreiziz repeated, rather less quietly this time.
And the four vessels began to break off and shed back in the other direction, away from the monstrosity that was the Empire.