Force Exile II: Smuggler/Part 5

10
Selusda Kraen brought himself out the meditation stance slowly, easing his mind back into what sentients often called consciousness like a foot sliding out of a well-worn boot. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of a rather low-class apartment building across from the dreadlocked Kiffar Jedi Master Quinlan Vos, whose eyes were already open and watching him.
 * “How was it?” asked Vos.
 * "Amazing. It was like plunging into a cold lake and letting the water hit you all at once.”
 * “Excellent.”
 * “How long was I in the meditation?”
 * “About forty minutes.”

The look on his face told Quinlan that Selusda was surprised by the duration.
 * “It seemed like forever, Quinlan.”
 * “The Force doesn’t rely on nor is bound by our sense of timing, Selu,” reproved Vos.
 * “True,” Selu agreed.
 * “What did you sense while you were meditating?” Quinlan asked him.
 * “I sensed my family on Commenor. I think one of them-my brother- is mildly Force-sensitive.”
 * “What else?”
 * “I felt a disturbance in the Force, Master Vos. Not immediate, but a growing threat that increases the more I look at it.”
 * “I’ve sensed it as well.”
 * “Do you know what it means?”
 * “No, but the danger is near.”
 * “Does that mean that we should get up now?”
 * “Probably,” Vos said with a smile. “No sense in lying around getting fat and lazy.”

The two Jedi-in-exile straightened up from their meditation positions and rose. It had been nearly three weeks since Selu had come to live with Quinlan Vos while his captain and employer, R’hask Sei’lar, was off on business with his first mate. His brother Sarth was still on Commenor, as far as he knew; hidden away in a Securer safe house, as were his parents and crewmate Cassi Trealus. Among their guards was the ex-ARC Spectre, whom Selu had known during the Clone Wars. Selu would have preferred to be on Commenor hunting for the Mistryl Shadow Guards who were trying to kidnap Sarth, but an Imperial embargo had kept him from leaving New Holstice to do so. His inability to act frustrated him, but he had learned much under his brief tutelage with Vos. He and Vos had sensed some disturbances in the Force that felt like deaths and they both figured that more Jedi survivors were being hunted down. As saddened as they were by that conclusion, there was nothing they could do about it with the information and traffic blockade in place except prepare themselves for the possibility of pursuit.
 * “Show me the technique you learned last night,” said Quinlan.

Selu nodded and concentrated. Quinlan Vos had taught him how to hide himself in the Force. The previous night, it had required considerable concentration, but Selu felt more confident about it now. Carefully, he enveloped his presence in the Force, letting his presence diminish and disappear, so that he did not register in the energy field any more than a droid would.
 * “Now add the camouflage,” instructed Vos.

Focusing further, Selu fashioned a shroud of reflective energy around him from the reservoir of the Force, removing his image from the visible and infrared spectra. However, the use of the Force camouflage tactic made the immediate space around him increasingly warm as his body heat was trapped near him rather than allowed to dissipate. Even as he muffled all the sounds of his breathing and motions, he began trembling with the effort of layering so many difficult techniques.

Selu sensed Vos’s mental probe searching for him and he evaded it, slipping deeper into the depths of the Force. Meanwhile, his own senses noticed that objects were being flown around the room in an attempt to hit him or force him to reveal his location. More tests. Fine, two can play that game, thought Selu.

Evading the objects was easy enough- a simple duck, sidestep or jump took care of most of them, but more difficult was suppressing the motion of the air caused by his sudden movements. Selu kept up the difficult evasion routine for ten minutes until he was gasping for breath and his muscles were quivering. With a final burst of effort, he flung his lightsaber from his belt and camouflaged that also, stopping its emitter nozzle five centimeters from Vos’s chest. Then, he released his camouflage screen and allowed his Force presence to return.
 * “I didn’t call an end to the exercise,” said Vos, puzzled.
 * “I did,” said Selu.

The Jedi Master looked down and saw the lightsaber still floating in front of him. Were it to be activated, the green blade would spear through his sternum and spine.
 * “Impressive. You moved the lightsaber to within striking distance while keeping yourself and it hidden from both the Force and the baser senses.”
 * “I wanted to surprise you.”
 * “That you did, Selu.”

Selu grinned and bowed, tired as he was.
 * “Thank you, Master.”
 * “You’re welcome. I imagine you’re tired though- take a break for awhile,” said Vos. “You’ll need the rest.”
 * “Are you sensing something through the Force, or are you merely alluding to more exhausting instruction administered by yourself?” said Selu.
 * “Perhaps they are one and the same,” said Vos enigmatically.

A couple hours later, Selu had cleaned up, eaten, and taken a small nap. He felt much better upon awakening- better than he had in awhile. He had felt different since coming under Vos’s tutelage- almost like he was back in the Jedi Order again. Having finally come to grips with the deaths of Master, his friends, and his colleagues during the Order had also helped, as the pain, guilt, and weight of the memories and pain had been holding him back, emotionally and in terms of using the Force. He was clean-shaven now, with his hair cut short, much like his brother Sarth. Tucked into the interior pockets of his raddan leather jacket were his lightsaber and a newly constructed shoto similar to the one he had once born as part of the Jedi Order. His blaster, a DC-15s given to him by Spectre, was tucked away inside the Hawk-bat, as the local authorities took a dim view of weapons being openly flashed around. Wondering what Quinlan Vos was going to teach him next, Selu was about to find the Jedi Master when his ship’s comlink beeped at him for the first time in several weeks. Stopping suddenly, he picked up the device and activated it as Vos gave him a curious look. Then, all the color drained from his face and he spoke only this phrase to Vos in explanation.
 * “I have to go.”

Akatha Warehouses, New Holstice

R’hask Sei’ar and Jorge Knrr were entirely bored with their cramped and uncomfortable accommodations. Not only were they locked up, but their crew was scattered and their ship was accumulating a large amount of landing fees with no way to recoup the losses. Early attempts to stave off boredom such as games and distractions quickly grew old and led to heated tempers between the two friends. As familiar with each other as they were, being imprisoned like this was a new experience for them and the monotony was almost unbearable. Finally, their jailor Neeves came in with news.
 * “Well, well, if it isn’t the high and mighty Neeves,” said R’hask.
 * “What can your humble servants do for you today?” jeered Jorge.
 * “Glad to see you two have kept your sense of humor,” said Neeves dryly.
 * “Why would we have a reason to be in a bad mood?” asked R’hask sarcastically. “Aside from being detained and imprisoned for no good reason by a bunch of revolutionaries.”

Neeves’s normally un-expressive face tightened.
 * “The Empire has finally lifted their embargo, so space traffic and news will be allowed in again soon.”
 * “Well, that’s great,” said Jorge. “What does that mean for us?”
 * “It means that you can go as soon as the Vigilance is gone, which should be soon,” said Neeves. “Return to your freelance trading life or take up philanthropy, I suppose. I’d give you an offer to join us, but I don’t think it would be well received.”
 * “Of course it would. I mean, you’ve given us such wonderful accommodations and benefits so far, so why not make it permanent,” said R’hask, his voice dripping with facetiousness.

Jorge merely cracked his knuckles.
 * “The door’s unlocked, so just collect your things from the storage box in the hall and you can be off,” said Neeves. “We’ve already started loading everything on our ship, so there’s no need to keep you here.”

With that, he turned and left. Without further encouragement, the two spacers raced over to their box and collected comlinks, weapons, and other bits of gear that had been confiscated.
 * “Who are these guys anyway?” asked Jorge.
 * “Well, it’s obvious they’re revolutionaries,” Sei’lar replied. “And I happen to know that they’re Naboo of some kind, though you could have figured that out by their accent and the Gungan.”
 * “That’s what I thought,” replied Jorge. “Their caution, nastiness, and familiarity with security procedures also means that they’re somewhat professional. If they’re Naboo, that means Royal Security Force.”
 * “Which is strange, because they don’t usually journey offworld much,” said R’hask.
 * “Maybe they wanted to get their weapons without attracting attention from the Empire. At any rate, they’re trying to free their world, and I can’t exactly blame them for that.”
 * “Maybe.”

As the two walked towards the exit, they noticed a HoloNet news display providing updates on galactic happenings after a long blackout. The display field showed images of a once-majestic city now burning and scarred by warfare. The holo anchor informed them that a Jedi-led uprising against the local government had recently been put down and that the head of government, Queen Apailana, had been killed in an unfortunate crossfire between the 501st legion and the insurgent force, but Imperial troops were restoring order.

R’hask gave a grim nod to Jorge, and they both turned from the HoloNet display. On their way towards the exit as they walked across the now largely-empty floor of the warehouse, Jorge noticed Neeves, Skoors, and their companions staring at another HoloNet display in shock and horror, apparently confirming R’hask’s theory.
 * “Looks like they were loading their stuff onto their ship to return to Naboo,” said Jorge.
 * “Probably saved the weapons for last to avoid inspection,” agreed R’hask.
 * “Yeah, it’s a good thing they weren’t there. Wouldn’t have had a chance against troopers,” noted Jorge. “At least they survived instead of bein’ killed.”
 * “True,” said R’hask. “As sorry as I am for their loss, though, we’ve been here too long. We need to clear space and soon before we lose more money or before the authorities get here or both.”
 * “No arguments there, cap’n,” said Jorge, thumbing his ship’s comlink. “I’ll call Selu and have him meet us at the Hawk-bat.”

R’hask stopped and looked over his shoulder one last time at the still-stunned would-be revolutionaries.
 * “Poor rodders. They’ve got no reason to keep on living now. I kinda feel sorry for them, even though they did lock us up. All they can do now is be glad that the Empire didn’t find them.”

At that point, the main warehouse door exploded in a blinding flash of fire and flying metal fragments. The Naboo froze for a moment, then their training took over and they scattered for what meager cover existed in the nearly-empty warehouse. Through a jagged hole in a loading dock, a dozen white-armored troopers burst into the warehouse with blaster rifles spraying a dense covering fire of scarlet energy bolts.
 * “Down!” screamed Jorge, knocking R’hask to the floor.

Blaster bolts whined overhead, some of them ricocheting dangerously off of support columns or the floor. R’hask and Jorge crawled to cover behind a shipping crate as Neeves, Skoors, and his other two companions returned fire with hand blasters. One of the stormtroopers took a hit in his thigh armor and went down with a smoking leg plate and another was down with a chest injury. However, as one of the Naboo men leaned out to fire, a volley of blaster bolts scored him in the arm, face, and torso. He fell with a gurgling cry, only to be silenced by a ricochet. Neeves, too, appeared to have suffered an arm wound.
 * “What do we do now?” whispered Jorge.

In response, R’hask pulled out his blaster pistol, which his first mate’s eyes widened upon seeing.
 * “You want to help them?” he asked incredulously.
 * “We have to,” the captain replied simply.
 * “This isn’t our fight,” insisted Jorge.
 * “The Empire is not very forgiving when it comes to rebellion,” said R’hask. “We better hope that’s all of the troopers, too, or we’ll be deader than we are now. Our only chance is take this group out quickly and then escape fast.”
 * “Well, you may be right about that part, but if we die, I’ll never let you live it down,” said Jorge.

The two partners leaned over the shipping crate, blasters at the ready and poured several bolts into the flanks of the troopers and two went down. The troopers fell back under a volley of blaster bolts, but did not leave. Suddenly, there was a muffled crump sound and the building shook. The two noticed a commotion on the upper floor of the warehouse. The structure had a group of upper floor offices accessed by a balcony that ran the length of the building which were in turn reached by a set of stairs that led to the warehouse floor instead of into the cluster of rooms below, which included their confinement area. The second level office doors burst open and four more troopers appeared on the balcony, flanking the Naboo and the spacers.

Blaster fire from the new arrivals was accurate and Skoors the Gungan was hit by no less than seven blaster bolts, blasting his charred body into the container of blaster pistols he had been hiding behind. Several near misses scored the ground and containers near the spacers and Neeves, who was cursing steadily as he tried to fire in both directions. The balcony’s railing provided the troopers with cover and the advantage in height meant that there was no truly effective cover to hide from them.
 * “Stang!” swore Jorge. “Just when I thought we had a chance!”

Suddenly, in the middle of blazing combat and scorching blaster shots, R’hask Sei’lar looked at his cover and laughed out loud.

A quick fusillade of shots from one of the Naboo dropped another stormtrooper, but the troopers on the balcony were finding the range even in the now smoke-obscured warehouse.
 * “Are you crazy?” demanded Jorge, ducking down to avoid a burst of six blasts that would have blown his head off.
 * “No, just inspired,” said R’hask, shooting the lock off the shipping container they were ducked against. Popping the container open, he revealed its contents: A PLX-1 rocket launcher and four missiles.
 * “Do you know how to use one of those?” asked Jorge.
 * “Sure,” R’hask said. “Load the missile, point it at the target, and pull the trigger.”
 * “This better work,” muttered Jorge.
 * “Just cover me,” R’hask, loading one of the charges into the tube.

Jorge nodded and took R’hask’s pistol in his off hand, sending suppression fire at the troopers on the balcony. Crouched behind the railing as they were, they had no idea what hit them when R’hask fired the heavy weapon. The missile, designed to penetrate heavy tank armor, impacted on the underside of the overhanging balcony’s permacrete floor with devastating results. Two of the troopers were blown off of the balcony entirely to land on the floor three or four meters below. Assuming they were still alive, they were out of the fight. Another had been directly under the rocket’s impact point and his legless, burning torso could be seen lying near the blast hole. The last one was staggering around with both of his hands held to his helmet, concussed and deafened. A carefully aimed shot to the head from Neeves ended his suffering.

R’hask reloaded the launcher as Jorge and Neeves intensified their assault on the remaining troopers on the ground floor, who were still largely without cover. Clearly, they had not been expecting such heavy resistance or firepower, but their armor allowed them to keep fighting after indirect hits, unlike the spacers or Neeves, who took the brunt of each hit. The rocket blast and the loss of their flanking party had also shaken them, but they were clones, trained to handle such extreme situations. R’hask leaned over the crate and fired a second round at the main group of troopers. However, the troopers were expecting the tactic and had spread out to avoid being taken out easily like their comrades had. The blast only killed two of them that Jorge saw, but the rest were temporarily knocked over or dazed by the explosion.
 * “Run!” called Neeves as he sprinted back towards them towards the rear exit, firing blindly behind him.

Jorge and R’hask followed suit, abandoning their cover and racing for the rear door, their paths never straight as they zigzagged their running paths in attempt to throw off the blaster bolts that were sent after them.

Stormtrooper CT-1027 was enraged by the thought of traitors and seditionists getting away from him. He had been the last one in and had largely been unable to get in a good shot yet, despite being a trained sniper, after being ordered to drag a trooper with an ankle wound to safety. The loss of his brothers from the rocket launcher fueled his anger further. He was the first one up after the rocket blast had killed his lieutenant and CT-1249, despite being knocked over and his face painfully smashed into the inside of his helmet. Clambering into a kneeling firing position, he brought up his DC-15x sniper rifle and took aim, only to find that the fugitives were fleeing. His eyes narrowed at the thought of the murderous scum escaping and he rested his sights on his target. CT-1027 considered a head shot, and he was certainly capable of it, but then his logical side decided that crippling one of them might also cause the others to stop and try and recover their injured comrade, allowing him to finish them off as well. Timing the motion of his hand with his natural breathing rhythm, his trigger finger tightened, sending a scarlet bolt lancing out from the rifle’s muzzle.

R’hask Sei’lar cried out in pain as a brilliant blaster bolt exploded through his right thigh. The energy instantly burned through his entire leg, disintegrating a segment of his femur and severing any number of muscles, tendons, and nerves critical to ambulatory motion. Sei’lar collapsed and the warehouse was suddenly filled with the foul odor of burning fur. Jorge and Neeves skidded to a stop as the Bothan went down.
 * “We’ve got to go back!” screamed Jorge hoarsely.
 * “If we do, they’ll get us all,” shouted Neeves in reply.

Neeves was correct- the stormtroopers were advancing in a loose firing line now, sending blaster bolts sizzling back towards the pair of fugitives. Jorge, however, was halfway in motion back towards his fallen captain when Neeves, standing less than a meter from him, was struck by blaster bolts. Jorge literally watched the side of his face explode into a bloody mist laced with tissue flecks and bone fragments. Two more successive blasts seared into Neeve’s chest, burning through the somewhat armored vest he was wearing and setting his flesh on fire. Jorge himself was clipped in the arm by another burst, sending a shooting pain racing along his bicep.

The sight of Neeves’s violent death right in front of him was too much for the veteran spacer. Abandoning all reason, he dropped his gun and then turned and sprinted for the door, wide-eyed and terrified. The trauma of having someone’s head explode before his very eyes had reduced him from a rational sentient to a mindless animal, operating purely on instinct. In some, this type of experience induced rage. In Jorge, it provoked terror and fear. His captain was momentarily forgotten until he was in an alley a block away from the warehouse. Jorge flattened himself against the wall, feverishly checking to ensure he wasn’t pursued, and then he realized that he had abandoned R’hask to the Empire. The additional shock and guilt of his callous betrayal was enough to bring him to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes. The nausea generated by the death of Neeves overwhelmed him and he emptied his stomach, gasping and dizzy. His vision blurred and then he passed out in the alleyway where he had fallen, willing the horrific experiences of the past few minutes into non-existence.

Selu Kraen sped through the streets at an inhuman pace, closely followed by Quinlan Vos. Dodging other pedestrians, the two Jedi were a mere blur to onlookers and most of the attention was still occupied by freshly restored news feeds detailing galactic events, such as the pacification of Naboo. Even as he was concerned about R’hask and Jorge, Selu registered the deaths of the Jedi on Naboo with the disturbances in the Force he and Quinlan had felt earlier.
 * “Come in, Jorge!” he called into the comlink, but he received no reply.
 * “What’s going on?” asked Quinlan.
 * “My crewmates are in trouble,” said Selu. “They need my help.”
 * “You realize that the Empire will hunt us down if we reveal ourselves,” said Quinlan as he ran alongside Selu.
 * “Not if we do this right. If there are only a few troopers, we can take them before they can report in,” said Selu.

Stretching out with the Force, he immediately picked up the sensations of anger, death, and combat emanating from the warehouse. Sensing the pain and death caused him to increase his pace, until he was all-out Force-sprinting. Rounding a corner, he saw the warehouse, with smoke rising from it and skidded to a halt, Quinlan Vos closely behind him. Then they both heard the sound of muted sobbing coming from a nearby alley. Selu turned momentarily towards the sound, only to find that it was coming from Jorge. Swiftly, he walked over to the Corellian, who was down on his knees with his arms over his face, weeping. The blaster scorch marks and signs of combat were not lost on the Jedi.
 * “Jorge, what happened? Where’s the captain?” Selu asked.

Jorge’s only response was to continue sobbing and rocking back and forth, reduced by some sort of traumatic experience to a total loss of functionality. Selu took hold of Jorge’s shoulder and pulled him up, bringing him into eye contact with Jorge. Layering his voice with the Force, he stared directly into the Corellian’s wild eyes.
 * “What happened?” he said sternly.
 * “I-I left him. The rest are-are . . . dead,” said Jorge, his voice shaky and trembling.

The first mate’s hands, held in front of him, were blood-stained and trembling violently and Selu realized that he would be of no further use. The choice on what to do was left up to Selu: Would he escape cleanly or would he risk re-opening the hunt for himself by rescuing his captain, who might already be dead. He quickly weighed each option and came to a conclusion quickly. A sidelong glance to Quinlan Vos was enough.
 * “I’m going in. Are you with me?” he asked the Jedi Master.
 * “After you,” Vos replied.

The two Jedi stretched out with the Force and shimmered into invisibility, with Vos clambering up onto the roof of the warehouse while Selu crept over to the rear entrance, cautiously peering around the edge. He was just in time to hear the sound of three blaster shots.
 * Commenor

Sarth Kraen glanced down at his right hand, where Cassi’s smooth, soft fingers were intertwined with his and smiled slightly. He and Cassi had finally gotten some “time away”- meaning that Spectre and Twone were only a few meters behind them with weapons at the ready. However, it was the most alone time they had seen in several weeks and he was thoroughly prepared to cherish it.

In his left hand, he carried a small basket with delicious smells wafting from it. As the evening sun glinted off the leaves of the forest, he and Cassi reveled in simply walking through the forest together, enjoying the sounds of the breeze playing through the leaves and the various colors and sights of the woods. Eventually, they reached a small clearing.
 * “Hungry?” asked Sarth.
 * “Sure,” said Cassi.

The two sat down and unpacked the picnic that Lena had prepared for them, smiling knowingly when Sarth had asked for her help with gathering a “small, portable meal for a couple people” earlier. Inside were several meat filled pastry rolls and a carefully wrapped salad of local greens, along with a small bottle of something that Sarth didn’t recognize, along with cutlery and plates. Whatever it was, it sent a warm sensation down his throat when he drank it, and he imagined Cassi was experiencing the same thing. However, Sarth kept being distracted from his meal by Cassi. She was so beautiful to him and he couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. They chatted briefly as they ate about the various happenings in their hideout, but nothing of great significance.

Cassi was overjoyed when Sarth had asked her to take a walk. She had wanted to spend more time alone with him. As much as she enjoyed the company of the elder Kraens, she felt somewhat out of place among so many strangers. And the fact that the police Investigator Slani Daowot had taken some interest in Sarth and had clearly known Sarth before was a concern of hers. As much as she enjoyed being with Sarth, the past few weeks had revealed to her how little she knew about the man she had gotten to know over the past several months. She found his knowledge and somewhat contemplative nature to be mystifying and he evoked the pure image of quiet leadership and strength to her, in many ways reminding her of her own father, passed away several years now from Direllian Plague. Her heart beat a little faster when she was with Sarth, but the threat on their lives and the other complications they had run into on Commenor worried her.
 * “Sarth, thank you for taking me out on this picnic,” she said.
 * “You’re welcome, Cassi. I’ve been meaning to do something like this for awhile, but I’ve had other things on my mind,” he answered.
 * “Like what?”
 * “Well, obviously Micor and Captain R’hask, and the Mistryl too. It’s strange, being hunted and forced to hide like this. I sure hope Slani is able to find them before they attack again.”

As soon as Sarth saw the look on Cassi’s name when he mentioned Slani, he knew that it had been a poor choice of topic.
 * “Sarth, is she on your mind?” asked Cassi.

Sarth suddenly became aware of how close to the edge of a precipice he was treading. Dealing with women was definitely trickier than a multivariable six-dimensional algorithm, as his mother had told him.
 * “Not like you are,” he said. “We were friends a long time ago. I helped her out in school and with some personal issues, that’s all.”
 * “Personal issues?” asked Cassi innocently.

Sarth winced.
 * “Yes. Relating to her family life. If it’s okay with you Cassi, I’d rather not talk about it- not because I have anything to be guilty about, but because I don’t want to reveal information about her past.”

Cassi wasn’t exactly okay with it, but she knew that this wasn’t the time or place to push the issue. She and Sarth were together, and there was no way some uptight detective was going to get in between them.
 * “Fine with me,” she said, changing the topic. “So how bored do you think Spectre and Twone are with watching us?”

Sarth’s good nature once again returned to his voice. “Oh probably pretty bored. Maybe we should give them the leftovers of this meal.”
 * “They’d probably like that,” she said.
 * “That’s what I like about you,” said Sarth. “You’re so agreeable.”
 * “Is that the best compliment you have to offer?” she said with mock indignation.
 * “Well, you put up with me,” said Sarth, drawing an even more outraged expression.

After a pause, he continued, “And I love every second that I get to spend with you.”
 * “Sarth Kraen, are you trying to tell me that you love me?” she said earnestly.
 * “Yes,” he breathed.
 * “I love you too,” she said.

And then she was leaning in toward him and without thinking, Sarth reciprocated, meeting her halfway. Both their worlds were swept away as their lips met and they stopped only when she ran out of air.
 * “Suddenly the Mistryl don’t seem so threatening,” said Sarth as he drew back.
 * “Oh, why is that?” she asked bemusedly.
 * “Because I have someone that I love, and they can’t take that away from me,” he said.
 * “Are you sure about that?” she asked.
 * “Positive,” he said. “Let me demonstrate.”

He pulled her in for another kiss and again lost all sense of reality except for the sweetness of her mouth and the rushing of blood in his head.
 * “You’re right,” she said when they broke once more. “Nothing can take that feeling away.”
 * “I’m glad you agree,” he said, taking her hand in his once more.

They sat in the dusk light, marveling in the beauty of the forest and of each other for some time, holding each other’s hands and temporarily oblivious to the cares of the world around them. Young and in love, the planet could have exploded and it wouldn’t have mattered to them. The Mistryl, the armored troopers protecting them, the cramped and uncomfortable safe house, Selusda and R’hask- all were forgotten.

As far as anyone knew, Spectre and Twone had no other concerns on their minds other than doing their jobs, or possibly the idea of going on an expedition to hunt some of the small chittering rodents that had jumped down on them during their silent vigil. The two had managed to avoid blasting the creatures, but the curiosity-filled animals were a plagued nuisance. The young couple was of all things in the forest of the least interest to them, aside from the fact that they were protecting them.

Their opinion didn’t make the slightest bit of difference to Sarth and Cassi. In fact, they quite forgot the troopers were there. Both of them wished this time could last forever; that they could sit side by side and hold hands and talk of the future and of their hopes and dreams. As night drew on though, they returned back to the house, to once again face the challenges of reality.

11

 * Akatha warehouses, New Holstice

CT-1027 walked casually up to the Bothan writhing on the ground while the rest of the troops secured the warehouse. Replacing the DC-15x rifle on his back, he drew his sidearm and pointed it at the Bothan’s face. The Bothan, his eyes lolling wildly, clutched his leg wound and paid no attention to him. To get his attention, the clone trooper brought his left foot down heavily on the Bothan’s arm, eliciting another scream, but also the Bothan’s attention.
 * “Under normal circumstances, I’d treat you a little nicer,” grated the trooper. “But you’re a traitor and you killed some of my brothers. I don’t take kindly to that.”
 * “Not . . . traitor,” protested R’hask weakly.
 * “Right. Then tell me who you’re working for. Tell me who organized all this.”
 * “Don’t . . . know,” said R’hask.
 * “Look, scum. People can survive this type of wound with medical attention and maybe a prosthetic. This type of wound, you can’t.”

The trooper leveled his sidearm directly at Sei’lar’s chest.
 * “Tell me what I want to know and you’ll live to reach an incarceration facility.”

R’hask finally regained enough of his senses to think clearly past the pain shooting up his right leg. He thought of his hopes for settling down, all gone now. He thought of his brother and his family, like his little niece. They were living a happy, relatively free life on Bothawui. Helping the Empire suppress others who wanted the same thing would be tantamount to helping oppress his own family, which wasn’t necessarily a ruled out possibility under the Empire’s domination. Somewhere out there on Naboo, someone’s family had had hopes of living free from the encroaching control of the Empire. To collaborate now would be the same as locking the stun cuffs on them himself. R’hask Sei’lar had never been called a moral or generous sentient, but there was no way he was going to help the Empire or lose his freedom. There was only choice he had left to make, but either way, he was free to make it. In that moment, R’hask Sei’lar made his decision.
 * “Never!” he screamed in a final effort, kicking the trooper’s leg with his off leg to throw him off balance and buy him time.

Pulling his holdout blaster with his free hand, he fired full at the trooper standing over him, catching him in the lower torso twice. With luck, he might even be able to take down more than—and then everything went red, then black.

CT-1027 anticipated some sort of resistance from the Bothan, but a holdout blaster was not what he had in mind. Even as he aimed, his leg went out from under him and he fell to one knee instead, bringing him face to face with the Bothan. Two searing firebursts of pain exploded in his abdomen, but he ignored them. CT-1027 hammered Sei’lar’s gun hand with the butt of his pistol, dislodging the small weapon. Bringing the muzzle of his weapon on Sei’lar’s chest in one smooth motion, he did not hesitate before pulling the trigger. It only took one shot. Standing up from the Bothan’s smoldering body, he looked down to his own blood leaking out of two holes in his armor and an awful pain wrenched his guts. Then he looked up to see a green fire heading straight towards him. He had no time to bring his pistol around or move before it separated his head from his shoulders, the latest casualty of the war against threats to the Empire.

Upon seeing the trooper murder the captain, Selu had hurled himself forward, letting the cloak dissipate as he concentrated his powers on combat. He vaulted into a leap, drawing his blade and igniting it shortly before landing next to the trooper, who was holding a still-smoking blaster. As his green blade emerged, Selu flicked his wrist decapitating the trooper. Oddly, while he acknowledged that he was angry at the death of his captain, he did not allow the rage to overcome him.

That’s just the penalty you suffer for killing, thought Selu in regards to the trooper. The other troopers spun around, weapons already being brought to bear, but Selu’s eyes hardened and they went flying back into the warehouse wall from his Force push. He closed rapidly with them, both blades lit, as they struggled to their feet just as Quinlan Vos dropped down from a hole in the roof. It took less than ten seconds to finish off the last three soldiers with graceful slashes and stabs of their lightsabers, deflecting the one or two bolts they got off.
 * “They didn’t get the word out,” said Vos, turning his saber off and sliding it back it into as belt, then picking up one of the helmets and listening to the comm traffic.
 * “Good,” said Selu, who had also extinguished and hidden his weapons. “We need to hide the evidence and get out of here then.”
 * “How do you propose we do that?” said Vos.

Selu went over to a storage cylinder that had been blown open by the blast from a PLX-1 charge. Reaching into the container, he held up a pair of concussion grenades.
 * “I think we should start with some large-scale property damage.”

The two Jedi quickly armed and distributed twenty concussion grenades around the building, guiding them telekinetically to structurally vital columns and supports. Several grenades were strewn around the bodies.
 * “Wish we had some incendiaries to help destroy the biological remains, but these will have to do,” said Selu.

Reaching down, he scooped up R’hask’s body and a belt of munitions and the two Jedi raced out of the rear door as the grenades blew. While concussion grenades didn’t generate particularly large fireballs or heat, they did create a significant shockwave and the effects of twenty such devices on the load-bearing pylons of the warehouse was enough to bring the entire roof down in a loud roar, accompanied by a cloud of smoke and the screech of shearing metal and snapping joints. The collapse of the roof would be enough to slow the Empire’s investigations down, but they still needed to make haste. As the dust settled, Quinlan and Selu, still bearing the body of the captain, headed back to the alley where Jorge was.

The first mate had recovered himself somewhat by the time the two Jedi returned, but now stood listlessly, still deprived of most rational thought.
 * “We need to get out of here,” said Selu as he bandaged up the nasty looking but rather minor blaster graze on Jorge’s arm. “Off New Holstice and fast, before the Empire shuts down the spaceport again.”
 * “I agree,” said Vos.
 * “Jorge?”

The first mate looked up at them blankly.
 * “I left him,” he said listlessly.

Selu realized that Jorge was still in shock and guilt-ridden from the death of Sei’lar, just as he had been during the attack on the Jedi Temple. While he too was feeling the effects of grief and loss at the death of the captain, sheer necessity and willpower kept him going, as remaining in the area would be fatal. He simply had no other choice but to keep going.
 * “Jorge, look at me,” said Selu. “It’s not your fault that Captain R’hask died. You know that. The Empire killed him, and they’ll pay for that later. We need your help, though. You’re the captain now, and R’hask wouldn’t want you to just give up. Whaddya say, huh?”

Jorge nodded slowly and wiped the tears from his eyes.
 * “We need a plan to get us offworld fast,” said Quinlan. “The Empire will be here soon.”
 * “Let’s plan and walk at the same time then,” said Selu, and the three set off through a series of back roads and alleys back towards the spaceport.

Internally, Selu was reeling from the loss of R’hask Sei’lar. He had only known the jovial Bothan for less than a standard year, but had come to respect his experience and role as the captain of the Hawk-bat. A pang of grief stabbed through him as he realized that the burned and charred body he was carrying belonged to yet another person close to him that he failed to protect- yet another in a long string of failures. However, Vos’s tutelage had done him some good and he pushed away his grief and doubts. They wouldn’t help them get off the planet- quite the opposite in fact. It was bad enough that the typically tough, happy-go-lucky Jorge was barely ambulatory and Selu couldn’t afford to have a lapse in his concentration or judgment. He glanced over at Jorge and found that the first mate had recovered somewhat, but he still had no plans of counting on Jorge to take over their escape. Unfortunately, that most likely meant revealing that he and Quinlan were Jedi. Jorge’s reaction to that revelation was unknown; would the first mate snap with resentment at the former guardians of Galactic peace?

Selu led them through the winding streets of Holstice City in the general direction of the spaceport, but he took a slight detour. Vos, though he raised an eyebrow, voiced no dissent and Jorge merely continued placing one foot in front of the other. His diversion from their course led them to a shady grove of trees near the Jedi memorial, scheduled for eminent obliteration by the Empire. The Imperial troops near the monument had already been evacuated; Selu checked his chrono and noticed that the demolition was scheduled within the hour. With a shovel left in a cart of tools by some careless gardener, he swiftly dug a meter deep hole in the ground about half a meter wide and nearly two meters long. On an ordinary occasion, Selu would have endured the hard work stoically and patiently, but he was in a hurry, so he augmented the exertions of his muscles with the Force and the hole was dug in no time. Juxtaposed to his hurried excavation, though, was the gentle reverence with which he laid the body of the fallen captain into the grave. Standing back, he bowed his head and cleared his throat, the needed words coming all too easily to him from his experiences as a Jedi Knight.
 * “We gather here to remember and mark the passing of R’hask Sei’lar, slain this day by the Empire. He was a devoted captain who appreciated his crew and not only demanded their respect, but earned it also. He knew how to fly and how to make a deal, and built his life around his craft and crew. Captain Sei’lar’s memory will linger on forever with us as we continue in our lives, knowing that his life was not in vain, and he shall not be forgotten. We don’t know what family or friends he left behind, aside from us, but we entrust them and ourselves to the will of the—“ Selu stopped just short of saying “Force” and quickly corrected himself. “—universe and the fate that awaits us. May Captain Sei’lar lie in peace here on New Holstice, yet his legacy surpass all that he worked hard to earn in his life.”

Selu, finishing his eulogy, stepped back and stood there silently. Finally, Jorge spoke up hesitantly, the word stumbling from his mouth and mind instead of flowing.
 * “Cap’n Sei’lar was always good to us. He didn’t always do right by the law, but it didn’t always do right by us either. The cap’n made us work hard, but he was right there along with us, in good times or bad and never gave his crew a bad turn. He knew the spacelanes like the back of his paw and could outfox any merchant there ever was. He was rough and tough, but had a soft side. He-he told that he was getting too old for this- wanted to settle down and maybe raise a family after this run. He’ll never-never get to do that now, because of his big heart. The cap’n couldn’t stand people being pushed down when he was running free, so he had us run the last shipment for those guys. And that’s what got him killed: trying to help others be free. I’m sorry I left you, Captain. I shoulda done better,” Jorge finished forlornly.

The three stood there for awhile, and a sharp wind blew through the grove where they were gathered around the grave, pulling on the Jedi’s cloaks and hair and scattering leaves and dust around. It whistled as it blew and the sun went behind a cloud for a minute, as if the weather was paying its own respects to the fallen Bothan.
 * “What was in that last shipment?” asked Selu, standing up after a moment or two of silence.

Jorge looked up and frowned, deciding whether to share the information, then shrugged and determined that it wasn’t worth keeping secret anymore.
 * “Weapons and arms for the Naboo resistance. They were planning an insurrection against the Empire and they needed weapons. That’s what that “scrap metal and parts” we picked up on Duro was.”

Selu nodded.
 * “So the Empire found out about it and raided the warehouse while you two were still there.”
 * “The Naboo didn’t want us getting caught or double-crossing them- figured it would stir up the mynock’s nest more and get them roasted double quick. They kept us in the warehouse with them until the Empire lifted the embargo.”
 * “I see,” said Selu. “You didn’t tell the rest of us. Why not?”
 * “Captain’s idea,” replied Jorge. “He didn’t want you all to get in trouble or have to worry about it, and you and Cassi were new enough that he wasn’t sure where you stood on the matter.”

Selu mulled that notion over, and it made sense. A meager Force probe also told him that Jorge was telling him the truth, although he didn’t think the first mate was capable of such a deception so soon after the captain’s death, nor did he have motive to lie. If he was lying, the tale he had just wove was a sure course for legal disaster and probably execution courtesy of the boys in white.
 * “All right, fair enough,” he said.
 * “We need to go now. The Empire will be demolishing that monument soon and we’re sort of conspicuous standing here,” said Quinlan.
 * “The monument?” said Selu.
 * “That’s right. The demolition will begin soon,” affirmed Vos.

Selu suddenly sprang into action, running towards the monument.
 * “What are you doing?” called Quinlan after him, but Selu gave no response.

In truth, Selu wasn’t exactly sure what he was doing, but he knew he needed to do something to prevent the loss of the memorial. Unfortunately, the Empire would know if the detonation packs simply failed to go off and they would blow it up from orbit. Instead, Selu raced up to the memorial and drew both blades. With a few quick strokes of his wrist, he carved a large hole in the cylinder housing the memory moths. While mind tricks on most sentient species were beyond him, convincing a non-sentient insect was a much easier technique and Selu quickly had the memory moths flowing out of the cylinder into open air, where they would be relatively safe from the Empire. They didn’t have the time or resources to go about hunting moths, Selu figured.

As the flying moths streamed out of the chamber, Selu dashed back to where Quinlan and Jorge were waiting by R’hask Sei’lar’s grave.
 * “What did you do to the memorial?” asked Quinlan.
 * “I released all the moths,” said Selu. “They’ll scatter and wander across the planet until they are called back again. Kind of like the Order.”
 * “Order? What Order?” asked Jorge.
 * “I suppose it’s time I shared a secret of my own with you that I think will clear some things up,” said Selu. “My name isn’t Micor. It’s Selusda, and I was once a member of the Jedi Order.”
 * “A Jedi Knight?” said Jorge.
 * “Yes, and that should assure you that I’m not going to betray you to the Empire,” said Selu. “And Quinlan here is also a Jedi Master. I think we’ll be able to accomplish a lot more knowing where each of us stands, which will be useful in getting off this rock and away from the Imperial slimeballs.”
 * “I don’t get it,” said Jorge. “If you’re a Jedi, where’s your light-“

His statement was cut off by Selu’s swift drawing and igniting of his lightsaber, the green blade flaring into existence.
 * “Lightsaber?” said Selu, levitating it into a midair salute.
 * “Right,” said Jorge, wide-eyed at the sight of the infamous Jedi weapon.
 * “Are you still with us?” asked Selu earnestly, his dark eyes boring into Jorge, who considered and shrugged.
 * “Well, I can’t really get into more trouble by helping a couple of Jedi than I could running arms, can I?”
 * “Don’t ask that,” warned Selu, closing down the weapon and returning it to his belt. “Because you don’t probably want the answer.”
 * “Probably true,” said Jorge, whose face suddenly turned stony. “But if I stay with you, there’s a good chance that someone will pay for the captain’s murder, right?”
 * “Count on it,” said Selu grimly. “That’s just one more thing to add to the list of wrongs committed by the Empire.”
 * “I hate to interrupt the venting of so much anti-Empire angst, but are we going to stand here until they decide to join us, or are we going to get out of here?” asked Quinlan.
 * “I vote for getting out of here,” said Jorge.
 * “Seconded. All we have to do is now is figure out how,” said Selu.
 * Commenor, two days later

Night was the friend of the assassin. Its natural darkness provided visual cover and lulled casual defenders to sleep. In the sleepy backwoods of Commenor, night insects chirped and the occasional cry of a nocturnal avian resounded through the dense forest. Even the fauna that was active at night barely noticed the three Mistryl slinking through the maze of trees towards the safehouse. They made barely any sound, the soft patter of their footsteps concealed by the sounds of the night, their dark clad figures scarcely brushing against overhanging leaves. Harness rigs held any number of useful items within easy reach while keeping them from snagging on any branches. They did not speak- they did not need to. They had already planned this mission and now it was time to execute. A small cylinder hanging on the harness near each of their shoulders hid their infrared signs from the scanners placed around the house. The other passive defenses allegedly protecting the safe house were just as easily fooled by the skills of the Shadow Guards.

Back a couple kilometers, Helsi monitored the progress of her team with no small degree of pleasure. The three Mistryl had easily penetrated the perimeter of scanners and were now closing on the house. Using a hacked satellite scanner to provide her with information and transmitting a looped feed back to Commenorian Security provided her with an excellent view of the target, while keeping the locals from accidentally noticing the team of Mistryl. They were almost in striking distance now and the weeks of planning and preparation to find and assess the dwelling and its security as well as formulate an attack strategy were about to pay off. The plan was simple: First, eliminate the bodyguards, three advancing to strike while one remained behind to cover. Then, burst in and seize the scientist, neutralizing all who stood in the way. She alone had the responsibility of covering the team’s exfiltration in the teams’ small freighter. Unfortunately, rather stringent Commenorian regulations prevented her from piloting a model as heavily armed and shielded as she would have preferred, but the 3-Z light freighter she had would suffice for their escape.

Unlike a typical sentry, an ARC did not stand near the dimly lit windows of the safehouse, instead keeping position in the shadows, his rifle casually slung over one shoulder. He was alert and after being at this place for a few weeks, was well attuned to the sounds of the night and the terrain. His ARC training allowed him to instantly dispel all inclinations of weariness as easily as if he were throwing a switch. Though his kind were rarely used for sentry duty, their superb mental and physical acuities, along with sophisticated tactical training allowed to excel in any number of scenarios, including guarding valuable people. Right now, the hair on the back of his neck was prickling, a natural warning sign that had saved his life numerous times in the war. He increased his vigilance accordingly, though he could not detect an immediate threat.

As far anyone could tell, the only thing on the minds of Sarth, Cassi, Lena, or Samtel at this time of night was the inside of their eyelids.

Jirnza carefully sighted in over the top of her weapon, a silenced Oriolanis Striker projectile pistol and fired two rounds at the shadowy figure standing discreetly out of the way. If it hadn’t been for the infrared goggles they were wearing, the Mistryl might not have noticed the guard standing discreetly off to the side. Her rounds were aimed for the head, but the guard took the first one in the neck, lurching back and causing the second one to miss. Good. A lethal wound, even with only one hit.

The Mistryl advanced on the main door cautiously, pistols out and ready to blast anyone in their way. They quickly stacked up alongside the wall nearest the door. Firad, the last in line, felt her boot step on liquid and looked down. It was the blood trail from the guard. Jirnza, the leader, carefully knelt down and slid a small device into the door lock. Her lock slicer quickly disabled the electronic lock, making a mockery of its supposedly advanced circuitry and silenced both the passive and active alarms guarding the door, effectively isolating it from the main security hub. Mistryl had refined the art of breaking and entering down to a science and not even a somewhat reinforced security door was enough to resist a lock slicer in the hands of a skilled Shadow Guard. However, Sallas had been their better intrusion expert, so Jirnza took a little longer to make sure that she didn’t make a mistake. Everything was going according to plan.

Twone lay on the ground, paralyzed by rending waves of pain. Had he been wearing the buy’ce that usually came with a full set of katarn-class armor, the round from the projectile pistol would have given him little more than a nasty bruise. However, they had only had one helmet between him and Spectre and it wasn’t his, and so the round had torn through his neck, narrowly missing his jugular and spinal column, but rupturing any number of smaller blood vessels. The impact of the round had knocked him on his back, his blood pooling across the grass and spreading out and he watched it with morbid fascination before the shock wore off and he was able to come to his senses more. Gurgling, he reached down and flicked a small thumb switch with great effort and bided his time, hoping that the bleeding in his neck would not be enough to keep him from doing his duty when the time came. The Mistryl chakaare were in for a surprise.

The lock slicer clicked silently, indicating the lock had been disabled. Jirnza pressed the open button and the dull gray metal door slid open with a slight hiss. Suddenly she found herself staring down the muzzle of a matte black WESTAR-M5 blaster rifle, wielded by a figure armored in the fashion of elite clone troopers. Then her world exploded in a brilliant flash of light. Spectre’s bolt took her in the face and pitched her backward, the gaping burn wound steaming from the superheated tissues. The other two Mistryl brought up their weapons and opened fire on him and he ducked back.
 * “Shassa!” swore Firad as she ducked back to avoid the ARC’s fire.

The two Mistryl traded a quick flurry of shots with the ARC for a few seconds, but it was rapidly becoming a standoff, with both sides too skilled to take many hits. Unfortunately, the target’s armor would enable him to survive just about anything except a concussion grenade or thermal detonator, both of which had the unfortunate side effect of probably bringing the house down on their target. A bolt from Spectre blew hot duracrete splinters into her hooded and masked face. Ducking low, Firad’s teammate Falisa, fired a blast into the ARC’s knee, and he staggered, but continued to fire.
 * “Get back!” called Firad, and they both quickly pivoted and ducked back as Spectre fired his underslung rocket launcher at them.

The resulting fireball knocked Talisa to the ground and sent a piece of shrapnel from the lock into her abdomen below her combat vest, eliciting a scream of agony. Talisa hauled herself to her feet and squeezed off another blast at Spectre.
 * “Grab the hostage!” Talisa commanded Firad in the Mistryl battle-language. “I’ll hold him off.”

Firad complied, setting a small pack against the wall and ducking back to hurl a whirling vibroblade at Spectre, which he dodged. Three seconds later, the pack blew a decently navigable hole in the wall of the house, and she burst in, weapon ready. However, instead of grabbing the target first as Talisa had ordered, she instead turned left and approached Spectre from behind and placed four tightly clustered shots into him, knocking him to the ground limply. Talisa entered the house also now slowly, her wound obviously paining her. She stepped into the doorway and nodded.
 * “Good job,” she said. “Let’s get the scientist.”

Twone saw the flash of light from the shattered hole in the house and realized that Spectre had been hit. Seeing the Mistryl advance through the doorway was too much- Drelve and Bwilor, while fairly capable, would not be able to stop two Mistryl in close quarters. Grunting with exertion, he hauled himself up to his knees into a sharpshooter’s stance, vaguely aware that the effort was causing his neck wound to bleed more. Raising his rifle with trembling arms, he blinked sweat from his eyes and sighted in on the second Mistryl, squeezing two bolts of energy into the chakaar, which knocked her to the ground limply in a puff of vapor caused by the explosion and rupture of her body.

Upon hearing the whine of the blaster rifle, Talisa had tried to turn out and avoid the blast, but she was slowed by her injury and the surprise of the assault prevented her from reacting as swiftly as she could have. Firad’s eyes widened in horror as Talisa’s chest cavity virtually evaporated from the high powered rifle blasts, but her horror quickly turned to raw fiery hatred, and she scooped up Spectre’s WESTAR-M5, pleased to find that its former wielder had reloaded the rocket launcher. Ducking out of the doorway, Firad fired the underslung rocket launcher at the kneeling ARC, sending Twone flying back in a small explosion. There was no time to waste though- they could have easily called in help. Dashing through the house, she quickly located Kraen with the aid of infrared goggles and burst into his sparsely furnished bedroom. Unsurprisingly, he was pointing a blaster at the door, as was a small blond haired woman in a whitish nightgown that matched the lack of color of her terrified face. However, she ducked and rolled under their hastily fired blasts, sweeping the woman’s feet out from under her with one leg and kicking her in the face with the other leg as the woman fell. A quick hand jab to the back of Kraen’s knee, and he was down with his face contorted in pain, but not permanently injured. She pulled the blaster from his hand easily and retrieved the one from the woman while covering Kraen, tossing it to the side.
 * “It’s over, scientist,” she hissed. “You're coming with me.”

He lowered his head and glared at her murderously, recovering his strength somewhat after her knee jab.
 * “I don’t think so,” he said, swinging a vicious punch at her with his left while pulling a small vibroblade and thrusting with his right.

Firad nonchalantly grabbed his left forearm and brought it down on his right arm while twisting to avoid Sarth’s unwieldy thrust at her midsection. Kraen screamed and dropped the vibroblade as it sliced across his left arm thanks to Firad’s maneuver.
 * “Brave, but foolish,” she commented.
 * “Schutta,” he swore at her. “Time for you to die.”

Firad frowned. That second sentence hadn’t been spoken by Kraen. She whirled only to find two figures standing in the door way, both armed and easily within striking range. She attempted to grab Kraen and force a standoff, but he slid away, kicking at her ankle. With no other options left, she hurled a razor blade one and fired her blaster at the other, catching her first target, a male Twi’lek in the leg with the blaster, and her other target with the blade in the torso. With a human or near-human species, such a wound would have been debilitating, possibly fatal. To an armored Tunroth, the razor merely annoyed it. As Bwilor moved towards Kraen to protect him, Drelve lunged forward, kilter battle staff swinging. Its edge bit deeply into Firad’s shoulder and though she launched a number of hard punches and kicks, connecting with many of them, the Tunroth’s sturdy composition and combat vest shrugged them off. Suddenly, she realized that she had failed and that knowledge, more than the sight of the Tunroth bringing his staff, that heavy, edged unblockable staff, around for a death blow, was enough for her to consider her life spent. Drelve’s blow was true and the force was enough to completely sever the Mistryl’s head, sending it flying across the room in a bloody arc.
 * “Quick,” said Kraen, cradling his injured arm. “What about Spectre and Twone?”
 * “Drelve, go check on them while I keep an eye out,” said Bwilor. “And send the elder Kraens in here also. We don’t know how many other Mistryl there are.”
 * “As you wish,” replied the Tunroth’s gravelly voice.

Spectre groaned as Drelve helped him up. The armor had dissipated the blasts he had taken, but it hadn’t completely stopped the heat of the blaster bolts from coming in contact with his flesh. He was going to have some nasty burns on his back.
 * “Did we get them all?” he asked.
 * “Bwilor isn’t sure, but we haven’t come under further attack. My quarry sense doesn’t detect any more of them near though. I feel certain that if there were any around, I would know.”

Tunroth all had a natural sense for tracking prey, and Spectre felt somewhat reassured that a hunter such as Drelve hadn’t detected any other Mistryl. Just not assured enough to take him off high readiness and wariness. Adrenaline was coursing through his system and he scooped up his blaster rifle, checking the perimeter for hostiles.
 * “Go back and help Bwilor,” said Drelve. “They have injuries.”

Spectre nodded and moved to the back room, treating Bwilor’s and Sarth’s injuries with the medkit, though Bwilor insisted that he could easily treat himself. Cassi only had a small cut on her chin from the Mistryl’s kick, but, at Sarth’s insistence, he cleaned and bandaged that laceration as well. This was battlefield medicine- quick and crude, designed for efficiacy, not thoroughness and he ascertained that Cassi wasn’t used to such harsh treatment as she winced with pain when he touched her cut. Sarth seemed to be taking Cassi’s injury more seriously than his own, despite the fact that he had nearly been kidnapped again and that his arm wound was more severe. Applying a small bacta pad to Cassi’s chin, Spectre then turned his attention to Sarth. A couple minutes later, Drelve returned with Twone slung over one shoulder.
 * “How is he?” asked Spectre intently, looking up from the syntheflesh he was applying to Sarth’s wound.
 * “Gravely wounded,” said Drelve grimly.

He set the ARC down and stepped aside, allowing Spectre to stabilize and save his injured comrade-in-arms from succumbing to the horrific wounds he had sustained. While he had seen clone troopers take worse hits and live, they usually had access to a Republic Mobile Surgical Unit within thirty minutes and a medical droid in the larty to stabilize them en route. Even if the Commenorian Securers had received their distress call, it would take them half an hour to get here by air, creating upwards of an hour before they could get Twone to a medcenter. Spectre worked feverishly, knowing that Twone’s life depended upon his ministrations. He quickly injected antishock into the wounded ARC while examining the trooper’s fluttering vital signs with the medisensor. The idea of losing Twone was horrific to Spectre, and the very real possibility of him dying began sinking in as his adrenaline rush began ebbing. The former ARC was his last link to his past life in the military, aside from the armor and arms that he bore. As Cassi continued bandaging Sarth’s arm, Drelve returned to the house’s doorway, a silent towering sentinel against any other dangers lurking in the shadows.

Outside, the night was still and quiet, the delicate equilibrium of nature disrupted by the chaos and carnage. No sound of insect, avian, or other creature could be heard. However, unchanged or even affected by the violence and death of the sentients in the remote arboreal region, the wind continued to blow through the forest, rustling the leaves on the trees unabated.

Several kilometers away, Helsi sat in quiet disbelief and rage at the holo she was viewing. Grinding her teeth, she quietly lifted off and returned back to the main city in a roundabout, winding fashion even as Securer and emergency airspeeders began approaching. She scarcely felt remorse for the loss of her partners; they were merely mission partners and some of them, especially Jirnza, had disagreed with her leadership vociferously on numerous occasions. If it wasn’t for the importance of their mission to the war effort, the team might have splintered before, but duty had held them loosely together. On the other hand, the Mistryl war effort could not sustain indefinite losses of trained Shadow Guards and losing three more would not reflect well on her war record. It was time for her last resort, an option she had devised as an alternate plan should the three other Mistryl fail and the reason she had opted to linger from joining the assault. Kraen would pay dearly for this outrage.

12

 * New Holstice, two days earlier

Selusda Kraen, hidden to any observing eyes by the esoteric Force camouflage, quickly trotted over to the Hawk-bat. Quinlan and Jorge had agreed to remain behind while he checked out the ship to ascertain the degree of curiosity and attention paid to the freighter. If the Empire didn’t suspect them of smuggling people out of the system, Jorge had told him about their defelite hull, which would keep any curious eyes from noticing that the ship’s crew no longer consisted of the same composition that it had upon landing. At any rate, the missing member of the crew could be readily explained away as a new hire from New Holstice joining the crew after their Bothan crew member was fired. The main objective of Selu’s search was not necessarily to inspect Imperial attention, though, but rather that of the Car’das Syndicate. He didn’t know what they wanted with Vos, but Jorge had explained that he and R’hask had been asked to keep an eye out for a male Kiffar. The simplest explanation was that Car’das, too, was looking for the Jedi fugitive Vos, and Selu accordingly conducted his search under that premise.

Slipping into the hangar bay proved relatively easy enough and his skills with the Force had improved under his few weeks of Vos’s tutelage so that the Force camouflage was not nearly as taxing as it once had been. However, as he approached the freighter, the hair on the back of his neck began standing on end and his danger sense instinctively heightened his awareness. Something was not right, and Selu knew it. His hand slowly slid into the slight bulge in his jacket where his lightsaber was discreetly tucked away. Selu’s suspicions were confirmed when he sensed several human and alien presences onboard the Hawk-bat. Jorge hadn’t told him of any expected guests, and he immediately suspected the Empire.

However, there were several problems with that theory. The first was that the Empire would not have bothered to reseal the hatches to the ship. They also would not have been stupid enough to not leave someone outside the craft. The same thing was true of customs inspectors or anyone of that ilk, who generally tried to draw as much official attention to themselves as possible from the crew. No, whoever had done this was trying to be discreet about it.
 * “So they want to be sneaky. I can be sneaky,” said Selu, to no one in particular.

Selu didn’t sense any presences near the rear of the ship, so he crept to the back of the ship to the ventral maintenance hatch. A few seconds later, he was inside the Hawk-bat, his access code having easily allowed him into the ship. The craft was as dimly lit as he remembered leaving it, the slate-gray walls darkened. However, the reactor core appeared to be online. Selu slipped into the engineering station, where someone had apparently been in the process of bringing the ship’s engines online but had left after completing the initial start up. Rather than risk alerting the other beings on the ship of his presence, Selu did nothing to stop the startup. At any rate, the bridge had primary control of the craft unless a code was inserted to switch it over to the rear station.

Moving on, he entered the crew lounge area, where he sensed a single human presence. Silently, he slipped on his Force camouflage while muffling the sound of his footsteps and breathing. Stealthy and impossibly hard to notice, he advanced. He kept his lightsaber at his belt though. This close to the bridge, the snap-hiss of its activation would certainly be at hand. Besides, as cloaked as he was, he could deal with this threat silently without needing to use his lightsaber or shoto. As he neared the person, Selu saw that it was a human female, clad in an unadorned gray jumpsuit, and with the gray hood pulled down over her head. She was slender, but of average height, and was armed with a vibroblade of sizable length, which she held in her right hand with a backhanded grip that would allow her to either slash quickly with either edge of the weapon. Strangely, she did not seem to be relaxed, as an unopposed intruder should have been, but rather poised, as if preparing for action. Selu, still puzzled over the actions of the intruders, probed her mind with the Force and found her to be cold and she seemed to be playing some sort of mental game. There was something else in her mind though, buried deep down, but she turned her head slightly and seemed more aware of him, as if she was aware of the probe. Not willing to take any chances, he cut off the probe and struck from concealment.

Quick as lightning, he trapped the woman’s right wrist and pinned it against her stomach, so that attempting to slash with the blade would result in a more grievous injury to herself than to him, while throwing his left arm over her neck in a classic chokehold and clamping his left hand over her mouth to keep her from alerting the others. She struggled and gagged but couldn’t get free, her throat making constricting sounds as she tried to force air through her windpipe. Then, before Selu could react, she whipped her free arm up to grip his upper right sleeve, the fingers of her trapped hand interlacing around his right hand. She pivoted smoothly to the left while extending her right leg back. The jerking of both her hands, and by extension, Selu, to the left, tripped him over her extended leg and sent him flying in what would be a solid impact between his back and the hard deck floor. Impressive, he thought. Her hip throw had contained both enough speed and reflex to it that he hadn’t been able to counter the move, despite his Jedi reflexes and precognition. However, he still had a few surprises left.

Rather than hit the ground, he landed softly on his two arms, the splayed out palms of his hand absorbing the impact noiselessly. Bouncing back off his arms, he drove his feet into her stomach, sending the air out of her in a soft whoosh and doubling her over. Continuing with the forward momentum of the maneuver, he sprang to his feet and landed beside her, extending his right hand to catch the vibroblade as it dropped out of her hands before it could clatter on the floor. Pivoting to be behind her once more, he pressed the still deactivated vibroblade’s sharp edge against her throat while clamping his left hand over her mouth.
 * “Let’s try that again,” he hissed quietly.

She made no response, but swallowed hard enough that Selu felt it through the motion of the knife’s blade bobbing up and down. The edge was pressed right against her carotid artery- the knife’s blade also allowed him to sense her pounding pulse as the vibration of her blood vessel was transmitted along the blade. They stood like that for what seemed like an eternity.
 * “Are you going to be civilized and answer some questions quietly?” he asked calmly, after discerning that she was not going to resist.

She nodded faintly after a moment’s hesitation. Selu sensed that she was not lying, so he reduced the pressure of the vibroblade against her throat slightly and removed his hand from her mouth.
 * “First off, what are you and your friends doing on my ship?” he demanded tersely.
 * “They’re not my friends,” she said, her voice a silky whisper that he would have found pleasant if she wasn’t a mortal threat to him.
 * “Then who are they?” he asked.
 * “Ship thieves,” she replied in that same whisper.
 * “If you’re not with them, then what are you doing here?” he ground out.
 * “Does it matter?” she shot back, a bit more fire in her voice this time. “I was about to take them out myself until you showed up. If you’d like my help, I suggest you let me go.”
 * “Why would I do that?” he asked.
 * “Look down slowly,” she said.

Selu looked down to find that her left arm was holding a rather small but deadly looking knife behind her. Its point was a mere centimeter away from sliding into his rib cage.
 * “I think I could help you,” she said, “And I haven’t betrayed you to them, nor killed you when I had the chance.”
 * “Well, I can’t deal with the thieves while we hold blades on each other,” Selu conceded.

That said, he released her while spinning her around to face him. Her hood had fallen back from her face, revealing her previously hidden features.
 * “You’re only a girl,” he said aloud before his mind could stop the words from forming.

Her features were deceptively innocuous: a softly rounded face with the skin tone of Bultar Swan but framed by auburn curls instead of straight black hair as the Jedi Master’s had been. Her almond-shaped eyes were as sharp, deep, and green as an emerald, but her delicate-looking nose and lips took some of the edge from her features. Her skin was with smooth with youth, with only a small freckle under her left eye marking her face. Selu figured her to be about eighteen standard years of age and rather attractive.
 * “A very skilled one at that,” he corrected quickly upon the withering look her received.
 * “Would you like to get the thieves off your ship now?” she said with mock pleasantness.
 * “Yes,” he said, returning her blade to her hilt first. “I’ll hang onto your blade for now, just in case. And you don’t seem to need it much anyway.”
 * “Thanks a lot,” she said.

Even though her voice was just a whisper, Selu could easily detect the dripping sarcasm in her statement.
 * “Scared is usually better than dead, which is why you don’t need the blade,” he instructed quietly.

As he sheathed her blade, Selu turned and began heading for the corridor entrance that would take him to the bridge and the thieves.
 * “Are you going to defeat them completely unarmed?” she whispered.

Selu stopped to turn and look at her.
 * “Is that going to be a problem for you?” he said.
 * “No. Just curious,” she said.

He shrugged and the two continued forward, their bodies and training their only armaments.

The two stealthily crept up along the bridge corridor, the girl trailing Selu by a meter to give him room to act. Selu was impressed that she was equally adept at moving without noise as he was. Approaching the doorway to the bridge corridor, Selu cautiously peered around the corner and saw that several rough looking characters were standing near the main personnel hatch between the bridge and the main body of the ship as two of them operated the ship’s stations from the bridge. Standing near the hatch was a human and a Twi’lek, both scarred and grizzled. He figured the human was the leader, judging by his attitude and the way he was giving orders. Inside the bridge were a Verpine and another human operating the controls while a third human, an adolescent male with a sour look and a lit cigarra that smelled of carababba tabac, lounged sullenly on the corridor wall.

Suddenly, Selu whirled around the corridor and lunged forward, taking a flying roundhouse kick at the leader, who turned just in time to take the blow under his chin, pitching him back with a loud crack as his jawbone exploded. Selu quickly landed and delivered an uppercut to the man’s solar plexus, doubling him over, and then brought the thief’s face down into his knee. Something crunched and Selu let him collapse limply on the ground as the girl punished the Twi’lek with a quick set of jabs to the neck. Selu recovered, leaping nimbly over the fallen man to confront the kid, who was trying to free a blaster from its holster.
 * “Get him, Ferrier!” roared one of the men in the bridge at the kid.

Ferrier had just got his blaster clear of the holster and was bringing it up to point it at Selu when the Jedi spun inside his gun arm to deliver a driving elbow blow to the juvenile gunman’s face. Grabbing the blaster out of the kid’s arm- a hastily fired shot could ricochet with potentially fatal consequences- he whacked the kid’s forehead with the butt of the pistol in a knock-out blow, only to find that the Verpine and human in the bridge had both cleared their weapons and were pointing them at the girl, who had just knocked out the Twi’lek with a snap kick.

There was no time to prevent them from firing- their fingers were already cracking the triggers of two blasters. Selu jumped right into their firing paths, the scene crystallizing in front of him. Time slowed down for him as he immersed himself in the Force, allowing it guide his movements. His lightsaber flew into his hand and ignited with barely any thought of his own. The motion was simply natural to him and he did it without thinking.

A green bar of energy sizzled into existence and Selu let the Force guide his hand. The blade wove through an infinity loop and Selu watched as the two blaster bolts bounced off it back into the chests of the two shooters, sending them both flying back with smoking holes burned through them. Despite that, his danger sense flared again and he half-turned toward the shadowy corner where the bridge joined the corridor.
 * “Look out!” the girl suddenly screamed, shoving him forward with her right arm and body as her left arm dipped into her belt and hurled her small knife at the shadow.

Something small and metallic flew past Selu and he felt the girl slide off of him limply. However, there was a glimmer of reddish eyes in the shadow as the thing roared in pain from knife protruding from it. Selu brought up the appropriated blaster he still held in his left arm and fired twice. There was a high-pitched alien scream and a black shape collapsed on the ground, twitching and smoking and still clutching a small dart shooter. Covered in black, shadowy fur, the now dead alien was still hard to see even against the metal deck flooring.
 * “Defel,” he muttered.

The shadowy wraiths were rarely seen off of their world, but were nearly invisible to the human eyes. Selu knew that about them, as R’hask and Jorge had both had dealings with them, but little more. He was fortunate that the girl had knocked him aside, as he had completely missed seeing the Defel lurking in the dark corner and his Force senses had been focused elsewhere. Closing down his blade, he returned it to his belt and looked to see that his erstwhile companion had been injured.

Bending down to where the girl had collapsed in pain on the deck while clutching her arm, he noticed a small dart embedded into her right bicep. He quickly ripped it out, noting that its tip was coated in some foreign substance. She screamed and the sheer animal quality of the sound sent shivers up and down his spine. Quickly, he ripped the jumpsuit sleeve open, revealing a small puncture wound with a spider web of red lines radiating out from it. Slow-acting poison. Selu immediately brought the wounded portion of her arm to his lips and began sucking on the puncture site, trying to draw the poison out. It rushed into his mouth, the sulfurous taste of the poison intermingled with the metallic taste of her blood. He armored the cells of his mouth with the Force as his senses sought out every molecule of poison in her veins. Lacking the more sensitive skills of a healer, he employed telekinesis on a molecular level, jerking the toxic molecules out of her body wherever his senses found them. Finally, his Force-heightened senses told him that he had gotten all of it, which was good, because he had a pounding headache and was running out of air. Turning to the side, he spat out the foul liquid onto the deck and took several deep breaths. His use of the Force had been exhausting and post-battle fatigue was beginning to set in. Reaching onto his utility belt, he pulled a small flask of water off and took a deep pull from it to rinse out his mouth.

The girl slowly sat up, still in pain, but not nearly as much. Selu handed her the rest of the water flask, which she readily accepted.
 * “Thank you . . .” she said, trailing off at the end of her sentence, and Selu realized that she didn’t know his name.
 * “Selusda,” he said. “And you’re quite welcome—“
 * “Milya,” she replied.

Selu then felt a spasm in his facial muscles as the last droplets of the poison and blood mixture hit his tongue. He gagged and promptly washed his mouth out with the rest of the water, adding it to the pool of dark liquid in the corner.
 * “I’m guessing that tastes as awful as it feels,” said Milya.
 * “You are correct,” he said, catching his breath again.
 * “Well, maybe this’ll be a little better,” she said.

Leaning forward, she cupped her left arm around his head and pulled his face to hers, kissing him firmly on the mouth. Selu started in surprise, but then relaxed into the kiss, savoring her subtle fragrance and taste as a warm sensation spread across his face. She pulled back after a moment, leaving Selu wide-eyed.
 * “How was that?” she asked.
 * “Not even a comparison,” he said.

He hadn’t kissed anyone since Serra had died nearly a year ago on Coruscant and not at all before then. His heart was pounding loudly and he was sure his face was red.
 * “Don’t get the wrong idea or anything,” she said. “I don’t go kissing every spacer I meet, but where I come from, saving someone’s life is worth something.”

Selu stood and helped her up.
 * “Well, you saved me from the dart in the first place, so I think we’re even,” he said. “And no, I didn’t think that about you.”

Turning, he saw the kid beginning to rise and he fixed him with a harsh glare.
 * “You, Ferrier,” he said sternly.

The young thug glared at him, but made no hostile move.
 * “Get your friends off my ship,” he said. “And rethink your life while you’re at it.”

Ferrier sneered and curled his lip at him, but began dragging the unconscious human and the Twi’lek out the personnel hatch after Selu opened it for him.
 * “And in the bridge, some of your friends took the final jump. Get them out of here also. By the time you convince the port authorities that you’re innocent, I’ll be out of here,” he said flatly.

With no other choice but to obey, Ferrier complied, keeping a sour look on his face.
 * “You’re going to need a cover story though,” Milya said.
 * “I know,” Selu replied. “And my friends are waiting for me to call them so we can lift the ship off.”
 * “It won’t work. The port authorities will suspect you of murder unless you have a spectacular way to divert their attention.”

Her words sparked a strange, nebulous matrix of an idea in Selu’s mind.
 * “A diversion, eh? I think I can arrange that.”

However, as he thought about it more, he realized that there was one huge variable in his plan and it was standing right in front of him.
 * “There’s just one problem,” he said.
 * “What’s that?”

He looked intently at her.
 * “Me?” she said.
 * “That’s right.”
 * “I have done nothing to deserve your distrust.”
 * “True, but that’s before you found out what I was,” he said, pulling his jacket aside to reveal the lightsaber resting gently on the inside. “I’m a wanted man, and that means I can’t take chances.”
 * “So the fact that I saved your life and didn’t kill you means so little to a Jedi?” she said, drawing a visible reaction from Selu.

Selu found himself in an increasingly uncomfortable position. On the one hand, Milya hadn’t done anything to deserve his suspicion, and she had saved his life. In his days as a Jedi, that would have counted for a lot from him, especially since he sensed no insincerity from her. Life as a smuggler had hardened him, though, and deepened his lack of trust of people, particularly strangers. Revealing himself as a Jedi in the corridor fight had been extremely dangerous, and he had done it only to keep Milya from getting shot. And even then, it hadn’t been enough to prevent the shedding of blood, which he hated doing. Unfortunately, he hadn’t yet found a way to avoid it either.
 * “It means a lot to a Jedi,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean as much to a spacer.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping.
 * “I was afraid of that.”
 * “Look, Milya, it’s not personal, but when you’re the last of your kind and incessantly, mercilessly hunted by the galactic government, then perhaps you’ll understand why I don’t trust people that I don’t know.”
 * “Then what can I do to make you believe me?”
 * “For starters, tell me what you’re doing on my ship in the first place. And in case you haven’t heard, Jedi can sense when you’re lying.”
 * “I wasn’t going to lie to you,” she said, then hesitated. “It’s just that—“
 * “What?” he said.
 * “I stowed away. I was hoping to find passage on your ship to another world. There’s no work for me here.”
 * “This is a relatively small ship. How did you expect to hide?”
 * “I’m not easy to find, and R’hask Sei’lar is well known among the local spacers for being of a more honorable breed. If found, I hoped that his merciful side would win out.”
 * “Are you from New Holstice? You don’t seem to be a local.”
 * “Your Jedi intuition serves you well. No, I’m originally from Thyrsus. Have you heard of the Sun Guard?” she asked.

Selu easily recalled what he had learned about mercenary groups back when he was in the Jedi Order.
 * “They were a group of mercenaries who preserved the ancient Echani culture, though I also heard rumors that they served as assassins for the Sith.”
 * “Yes. I was once part of the Sun Guard, training in the Echani arts and instructing others.”
 * “So why are you here now?”
 * “The Sun Guard can be cruel, underhanded. I was adopted into the culture when I was young, after the Sun Guard slew my parents. The last thing I heard my parents say was to beg their murderers to not kill me. They didn’t, but instead they took me and made me one of them. I have been scorned my entire life since then, and only my skill in combat has earned me any respect. Eventually, I grew into the Echani society and even came to love my adopted parents, who were thankfully a kinder pair of people than those that killed my original family. I only left after my adopted family, too, was killed in a duel over how the Sun Guard was to operate.”
 * “That’s a rather harsh life,” Selu noted.

She shrugged. “You play the hand you’re dealt.”
 * “So if they’re so cruel and harsh, why should I allow a revenge-crazed girl like you on my ship?”
 * “I’m not crazed,” she said. “I do want revenge, but I’m not going to do anything stupid to get it. And to answer your first question, I saved your life and I’m sure I can make myself useful on the ship. I do know a thing or two about flying ships or else I wouldn’t have tried to stow away.”
 * “Then why didn’t you just steal the ship?”
 * “The thought did occur to me, but I didn’t think it was fair to take Captain Sei’lar’s ship away from him. I’m not your typical amoral mercenary, and it takes two people to effectively run a freighter this size anyway.”
 * “Indeed,” he mused. He hadn’t sensed any deception in her at all, which was unusual.
 * “However,” he advised her. “I regret to inform you of the sudden, tragic demise of Captain Sei’lar.”
 * “What?” she said.
 * “Yes. He was killed by the Empire,” said Selu grimly, a flare of pain blossoming into existence within him as he stated the words. The Bothan had been a good friend in the months he had known him.
 * “So I guess that makes you the captain?” she said. “In that case, I’m still willing to work my passage off.”

Selu frowned. “I’m not the captain. I’m just the pilot who was trying to retrieve his blaster and equipment from the ship and stumbled upon something more.”
 * “Well, I hate to interrupt this charmingly productive conversation, but I do believe Ferrier has finished dragging the bodies off of the ship. Which means you should probably be trying to clear space with your friends. Do you trust me or not? If not, I should probably be going unless you have assault or murder in mind.”

Selu noted that Ferrier had, in fact, cleared the bodies off the ship. He briefly considered her words before replying.
 * “The gross insult to my character by suggesting that I would attack you after you helped me aside, I do trust you. You can stay, at least until we get off this planet and figure some things out.”
 * “You did say you were a spacer, not a Jedi. And I don’t know you from the Emperor’s nephew,” she reminded him.
 * “Conceded.”
 * “So how are we getting out of here?” she asked.
 * “I have an idea, I think,” he said.
 * “Are you going to clue me in?” she asked.
 * “There’s not enough time to tell you everything, but follow me and I’ll explain as we walk,” he said, handing her the vibroblade he had taken from her earlier and R’hask’s old comlink.

With that, he turned and strode out of the ship, walking briskly across the docking bay, but without running, as that would only serve to attract more attention. There was not much time if he was going to get all of them off the planet. As he crossed the docking bay, he called up Jorge on his comlink and hurriedly told him and Quinlan Vos the plan he had in mind, Milya trailing a few meters behind.

When he had finished explaining the plan to Jorge, Quinlan, and Milya, he stopped. Milya stopped also.
 * “You know your part,” he said. “Now stay here while I meet with the others.”
 * “All right,” she said.
 * “Don’t worry- there’ll be plenty of time for formal introductions after we get off this place.”

With that, he turned and began walking to meet with Quinlan and Jorge at the end of the spaceport. His mind was already focused with various scenarios of his escape plan, calculating the risks and possible obstacles, along with contingency options. Suddenly, he was jolted out of strategizing by a roguish-looking Devaronian tugging at his sleeve.
 * “Micor Kraen?” the alien asked.
 * “Yes?” replied Selu sharply.
 * “I’d like a minute of your time,” he said.
 * “Not now,” Selu said.
 * “It would be well worth it,” the Devaronian wheedled.
 * “No,” said Selu, turning to go.
 * “I’m sorry,” the Devaronian called after him. “I was led to believe you would be interested in discussing the Mistryl Shadow Guards.”

Selu stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.
 * “What do you want?” he asked.
 * “We have heard that you have a certain, um, disagreement with the Mistryl, no?”
 * “And who is this ‘we’?” asked Selu.
 * “An organization that has considerable knowledge, but wishes to remain anonymous,” replied the Devaronian mysteriously. “That’s not important at the moment.”
 * “It might be,” Selu warned.

The Devaronian ignored him, favoring him with a wry smile. “We might have a solution to the problem.”
 * “Really?” said Selu dryly.
 * “Certain other parties have approached us for aid in dealing with a very similar root problem and we have found some people to help them. We just need one thing.”

Translation: Someone had hired these guys to find a way to hit the Mistryl and they wanted his help. Go figure, thought Selu.
 * “I might be interested,” Selu said. “I need some information though.”
 * “I am here to serve,” said the Devaronian less than sincerely.
 * “How did you know I was here?” he asked.
 * “We already knew R’hask Sei’lar was on New Holstice and since you were on his ship, we thought here would be a good place to catch you in person, even better than the old anonymous datapad left in your quarters gambit.”
 * “Fair enough. What do I have to do?”
 * “You need to get onto Emberlene,” was the reply.
 * “Oh, is that all?” he scoffed.
 * “We are sure that you will be as inventive as you were when you dealt with those Shadow Guards on Coruscant,” the Devaronian replied.

Selu got a niggling feeling that whoever these guys were, they had way too much information on their hands. Thankfully, though, they hadn’t tried to blackmail him with knowledge of his former occupation, meaning that they most likely figured that he was really Micor Kraen and not a Jedi fugitive.
 * “And then what?”
 * “If you disguise yourself as your cousin and arrive on Emberlene, they will take you into a very secure area that we have pinpointed as being essential to part of their planetary defense grid. We will supply you with a computer core that, when activated, will take control and weaken their defenses to allow our other associates to force the Mistryl to end their destructive warmongering. The threat to your cousin will be ended.”

Selu considered the offer carefully. It was quite obvious that the Devaronian wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but the alien was serious about the idea.
 * “Is that all?” he asked.
 * “Yes. You will be paid 10,000 credits as compensation for your time, of course,” replied the Devaronian.
 * “In that case, I’ll do it,” he said. “Have the computer core loaded onto the Hawk-bat in ten minutes. If you’re as good as you seem to be, you’ll have anticipated that I’m in a hurry.”
 * “Yes, we did figure that,” the Devaronian said. “It’s already being placed in the docking bay.”
 * “Someone will open the ship for you,” said Selu. “Just don’t try anything funny.”
 * “We wouldn’t do that to you, Micor,” replied the Devaronian.
 * “I don’t trust you,” Selu said flatly. “And tell Car’das that I’m not going to do him any more favors after this. Also, don’t follow me, or the deal is off.”

The Devaronian hissed. “It appears you are clever indeed. Luck be with you.” Just like that, he bowed his head and vanished into the shadows, most likely to call his superior, who would in turn make sure that the news eventually reached Car’das. Selu found it somewhat ironic that he was aiding the Car’das Syndicate at the same time as he was planning on sneaking Quinlan Vos right past them, but he figured he could better appreciate the irony once he was successful in getting offworld. First, he had to call Jorge again and let him know to expect some guests with cargo for the ship.

A few minutes later, Selusda Kraen and Quinlan Vos, masked by Force camouflage, crouched near the part of the spaceport that had been commandeered by the Imperial military. Milya was waiting innocently outside the military area and Jorge was warming up the Hawk-bat for departure. All the pieces were in place for his escape plan. Now it was time to: execute.

Part One: Disruption through surprise and overwhelming Force. Selu and Quinlan suddenly leapt from hiding, their lightsabers flaring into existence, batting away blaster bolts and cleaving through the few troopers that were clustered around the parked starfighters and shuttles to guard them. As Selu beheaded one of the armored clones, he heard the helmet comm system blaring something about all troops report to the spaceport to deal with a pair of flushed out Jedi. So far, so good. After Force-slamming the last few troops into a docking bay wall, Selu and Quinlan quickly disabled the bay’s surveillance system and a lightsaber slash took care of the secured door, admitting Milya. Fortunately, one of the three Lambda shuttles still had its boarding ramp down and was unoccupied. The three quickly ran into the shuttle to power up its drives.

Part Two: Grand larceny of military property. As Selu powered up the craft, he was sure that every Imperial in the system was called in on him, which was exactly what he wanted. If the two Jedi could destroy the other ships parked in the docking bay and escape past the cruiser in orbit, they could ditch the shuttle and link up with the Hawk-bat later. His mind was still going through the engine start-up sequence when Milya spoke up.
 * “You were both Jedi, right?”
 * “That’s right,” Selu said absent-mindedly as he brought the main reactor online. Shuttle piloting was a bit different from flying diplomatic cruisers or starfighters, so the startup sequence was taking longer than he wanted.
 * “So, if you both know how to fly starfighters, why not just take two of them and fly cover? I can easily fly this shuttle by myself.”

Selu stopped in the middle of what he was doing to turn back to Milya.
 * “So how do we get out of the craft if we’re in a hurry?” he asked her. “Those Actises out there don’t have hyperdrives.”
 * “Not a problem,” she said. “As long as you can get some breathing room, your freighter has two side cargo pods. Those fighters are small enough to fit inside.”

Selu contemplated her suggestion, mentally calculating the dimensions of an Eta-2 and the wingtip cargo pods on the Hawk-bat.
 * “You know, that could work,” he said.
 * “Let’s go then,” concurred Quinlan.

Within moments, the two were strapped in and racing through an abbreviated checklist. Meanwhile, Jorge had lifted off by now and was on his way toward space, the gimmicked computer core safely loaded into the main cargo bay. Ferrier had surely reached the spaceport authorities by now, but a Jedi attack took precedence over a spacer fight. Perhaps his unconscious friends had awoken by now and were contemplating a different course of action. At any rate, he was no longer an issue, as Jorge had clearly had no problems getting clearance to take off. Moreover, Ferrier had been unconscious when Selu had used his lightsaber, so there was no way he was aware of Selu’s true identity.

The two Eta-2 starfighters gently lifted off on repulsorlifts just as a swarm of Imperial troops burst into the docking bay. Selu and Quinlan quickly pivoted the hovering craft around and spat green laser blasts from their cannons at the troops, burning through several of them and scattering the rest. Realizing that there was no point in continuing to slaughter the infantry, Selu and Quinlan both lifted their craft off and followed Milya’s shuttle into the atmosphere, strafing the other craft in the docking bay to delay pursuit before they soared into the atmosphere, headed for space.

Part 3: Evasion of a numerically superior enemy. This was the part of the plan that Selu was less sure about, as the Empire had a Carrack-class cruiser and he only had a pair of starfighters and a small shuttle, none of which was carrying proton torpedoes or other heavy weaponry. As the blue haze of New Holstice’s sky gave way to the inky black void of space, Selusda quickly became aware of the large vessel approaching him on an intercept vector. Selu and Quinlan fed more power to their drives, sending the speedy Eta-2s surging forward as Milya hung back. The less maneuverable shuttle would be more likely to take hits than the smaller and more agile starfighters. As they approached the cruiser, marked the Vigilance by the sensor board, it began sending shafts of green turbolaser and blue ion cannon fire hurtling at them. The two Jedi wove their craft through a complex pattern of evasive maneuvers and rolls, eventually returning fire from their own much smaller weapons once they had a chance. Like ranats attacking a much larger beast, the starfighters barely did any damage to the cruiser, aside from diverting its attention from Milya’s shuttle, though Selu noted that some of the cruiser’s batteries did score glancing hits on the larger craft. Thankfully, the Vigilance was not armed with anti-starfighter weapons in addition to its turbolasers, but with ion cannons, and while those weapons were quite adept at scrambling the shields and systems of larger vessels, they had a disadvantage when trying to target smaller, nimbler craft. Similarly, the tractor beams on the cruiser would also have difficulty acquiring a target lock on an Eta-2.

Selu watched as his fire was absorbed harmlessly by the ship’s shields, his own lasers doing scarcely any damage to their integrity. In contrast, the cruiser’s turbolasers would instantly burn through his ship if they connected. However, they had one chance. The Vigilance had been equipped with five Eta-2s on its external rack, and they had only seized or destroyed four of them. The last fighter, likely reserved for interdicting fleeing freighters or reconnaissance, was now in pursuit of Quinlan Vos, who easily evaded the fire of the pilot. After all, the pilot was just a mere clone, and Vos was a Jedi Master.

Selu tacked onto the Imperial’s tail, noting that the cruiser’s guns had lessened their fire on Vos to avoid hitting their own pilot. In response, the Imperial, though he still couldn’t hit the elusive Vos, pulled his craft closer to the Jedi’s fighter, meaning that if Selu missed his shot, he would most likely blast Vos’s ship. In an unshielded craft, that could be devastating. Quinlan Vos, leading the three ships, swooped down towards the cruiser, though, turning the Empire’s strategy against them. While the Carracks were fast, they still couldn’t match an Eta-2 for sheer speed. As he skimmed meters above the ship, Selu and the Imperial followed him closely, each trying to kill one of the others in an eerie dance of death. Suddenly, Selu took his shot, but not with his lasers. Reaching out with his mind, he Force-nudged the Imperial starfighter down into the Vigilance’s stern section. There was a flicker as the cruiser’s shields tried to absorb the impact, but then the fighter’s fuel cells detonated and the skittering blue field collapsed as the rest of the fighter plowed into the hull. The shields would soon be restored, but Selu was not about to give them time to bring the shields back up without causing some damage. As the cruiser’s guns once again opened up in full force, he pelted the side of the hull with laser fire, burning through an engine nacelle. Meanwhile, Quinlan Vos was taking advantage of the lowered shields to place a quartet of laser cannon bolts into the ship’s bridge, exploding through the transparisteel viewport and opening it to the vacuum of space.

While by no means enough to disable it permanently, their actions had redirected the Vigilance long enough to keep it from pursuing Milya’s shuttle or the Hawk-bat, both of which had jumped into hyperspace. Their mission accomplished, Selu and Quinlan broke off and quickly accelerated, evading the last few scattered shots taken at them by the cruiser’s gunners. Several minutes later, they reached the outskirts of the system on their sublight engines to rendezvous with Milya and Jorge after the first mate had sent them a set of coordinates, as the two larger ships had microjumped there ahead of them. As Milya had said, docking the starfighters into the wingtip cargo pods was possible, though it was rather tricky. Selu and Quinlan ended up docking their craft with the dorsal cockpit hatches oriented towards the airlocks that led to the main body of the ship. As the external bay doors closed around them, sealing off the bay from vacuum, Selu and Quinlan blew the hatches on their fighters, taking deep breaths to protect them from the unpressurized cargo bays. Clambering out, they waited as the airlocks cycled and admitted them into the Hawk-bat. While a rather longish time for an average human to hold his breath, breath control was a common skill among Jedi. The two quickly headed to the bridge where Jorge was.
 * “We’re here, captain,” said Selu.
 * “What did you call me?” asked Jorge sharply.
 * “Uh, captain,” answered Selu.
 * “Don’t call me that,” said Jorge gravely. “Captains don’t leave their mates behind.”

Selu was somewhat puzzled, but took it in stride.
 * “Fine, I guess I’ll be captain until we get back to Commenor and sort some things out with the rest of the crew.”

As he was still trying to make sense of Jorge’s statements in his already cluttered mind, the comlink crackled.
 * “Do you want to escape or do you prefer to wait until the Vigilance figures out where we are?” asked Milya.
 * “You’re right,” said Selu. “We should probably make hypertracks. Ready to ditch the shuttle and come aboard?”
 * “Hey, we could keep this shuttle,” said Milya.
 * “That’s probably not a good idea,” said Selu. “Not with all the military decals on it and with the damage you took from the cruiser’s guns.”
 * “Look, this is my way out,” she protested. “I get my ship and get offworld. You get your ship and get offworld. We’re all happy.”
 * “So that’s why you wanted us in the starfighters,” he said.
 * “Yes,” she replied.
 * “Fair enough,” said Selu. “I suppose it is your ship. I will say this though: If you want to stay aboard the Hawk-bat, I know I don’t have any objections to your joining the crew, and I don’t think anyone else will either. And you won’t be hunted by the Empire unless they find out that you were on the shuttle, which isn’t likely, as only we know that, and we’re not telling.”
 * “Why should I trust you?” she said.
 * “It seems this conversation is strangely familiar,” he said. “But to cut that short, I did trust you back on New Holstice. It’s up to you if you want to keep being alone and on the run, or if you want to join up with people who’ll look out for you.”

Jorge gave him a guilty look, but Selu ignored him for now. Deal with one emotional individual at a time. He waited for her decision, fully expecting it to come in the form of the flicker of pseudomotion as the shuttle jumped into hyperspace. Finally, the comlink came back to life again.
 * “I’ll come aboard.”

Selu broke into a smile.
 * “Welcome aboard, Milya.”

A short while later, Milya was sitting in the bridge with the others, having been formally introduced to Quinlan and Jorge.
 * “First, we head to Kashyyyk,” said Selu. “It’s on the way to Commenor and Master Vos has obligations there.”
 * “That I do,” said the Jedi Master.

He had largely been silent through most of the escape, though Selu was unsure why. Resolving to deal with later, he turned back to Milya.
 * “The rest of the crew and my family are on Commenor, and we’ll need to link up with them, and I possibly lined up a cargo deal for us.”
 * “Sounds good to me,” she said as Jorge nodded in silent affirmation.

Selu turned the Hawk-bat’s lasers on the battered Imperial shuttle, slagging it with a few bursts, and then oriented the ship on a vector towards Kashyyyk. As he pulled the hyperdrive lever, the stars elongated and twisted into the dimensional vortex of hyperspace as the Hawk-bat achieved superluminal speeds.