TIE Fighter: Command Decisions

Chapter Four

Disclaimers-I infringed. Big deal. I'm not getting any money out of the deal. Believe me. However, if someone wanted to pay me for non-Star Wars stuff, I wouldn't be averse. Heck, if you're from Lucasfilm and you want to pay me for Star Wars stuff, I'd love to. (Poor college student-will write for room and board. Or for a chance to learn how to edit movies. Either way.)

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Aleishia's house, if one could call it that, was little more than a small room off of a seldom-traveled alley, with an alcove for sleeping and a small oven for warmth. The chunks of carbonized wood had dwindled down to faintly glowing coals and she stirred them idly with a long metal poker, watching the sparks race each other up the chimney pipe.

There was a rustling from the alcove, but she didn't look up. Caelin, the human pilot, was still asleep, his thoughts drifting in that strange suspended state between dreams and full consciousness. Her dark eyes slowly turned to the figure seated beside the fire, slumped in her chair, the glowing eyes mere slits in the pale face. Aleishia smiled to herself. The Chiss might like to pretend that they didn't need to sleep, but she knew from experience that was simple showmanship. Like almost every humanoid creature, they needed to rest-they simply did not need as much as humans. Mith'ele'arana, on the other hand, needed as much sleep as she could get at the moment, the older woman thought, and she poked the fire again.

Caelin stirred again, and she sent a silent suggestion his way, urging him back to deeper rest. She needed to think, and the young man did need to sleep as well. She wondered exactly how far they'd walked, but it would take more effort than she was willing to expend to lift the information from his mind. She didn't dare try scanning Thelea-the girl was not trained, but she had potential, a great deal of potential. All that remained was someone to mold that potential.

*Not while Palpatine lives.*

Aleishia smiled and settled onto the low ottoman beside the stove. "Back again, are you?"

The voice was reproachful. *Come now. You're the one who always says we never really leave. I'm simply the most vocal.*

"True enough." There were others, one at least, Aleishia would dearly have loved to speak to, but they seemed to have completed their work and moved farther on. Still, company was company. "She's come at last."

*Yes, I noticed that,* the other said dryly. *Are you going to tell her?*

Aleishia ignored the question. "She carries the lightsaber. He kept at least one promise."

There was a long silence, and for a moment she thought the other had gone. Finally, she said quietly, *That is not fair and you know it. He did his best.*

"Perhaps." Aleishia let it go at that for a moment. It was sometimes nice to simply sit and enjoy the presence of a friend, insubstantial as that presence might be. If only Mihall. . . . She shook her head firmly and pushed the thought from her mind. If he could, he would. Since he hadn't, he couldn't. That was that. There is no death, there is the Force.

*You're thinking about them again.*

"Yes." Aleishia smiled wistfully-Mihall, dead more than forty years, Lissa taken nearly that long ago, poor brave Morgan and dear Milaeta, all the others-uncountable numbers, all like-

*Like me?* The voice was bemused.

"I suppose that's true. And both our children lost to us." Again her eyes drifted to Thelea's form, slumped in the chair. "Shall I tell her?"

*Oh, come now.* Her voice was now derisive. *You're not going to, so why bother asking?*

"It was only polite." She smiled amiably. "She's very much like you."

*With more sense, one might hope.*

"If there's any there, it must have come from her father." There was a soft laugh, like the tinkle of crystal in the still air. "What?"

*You, giving him credit?* Aleishia could almost see the bemused smile. *How remarkable.*

"Force's sake, child, I have nothing against his capabilities or intelligence," she laughed. "It's his personality I can't stand."

She sighed. *I wish you had gotten along better.* There was a wistful note to her voice. *I wish--*

"I know." She cut the other off. "I understand. But did you come here to discuss old times or did you have something important to say? We're starting to get maudlin."

*It's about the freighter. You know who was responsible?*

"They described it fairly well. There's no doubt. They're coming back, and they have their little henchmen playing around for them. Did you want I should tell them and have the Empire come rushing out here? All we need is Vader toying around with his fleet."

*Vader never toys around with anything. You should know that.* There was a pause, and a shifting, as though the other were looking away for a moment. *He won't come.*

"Too busy chasing rebels?"

*Too busy chasing his son.*

"Son?" Somewhere in the back of her mind, Aleishia knew that Anakin Skywalker had fathered children, but she had assumed that they, too, had been victims of the purges so many years ago. "Then the time is coming, isn't it?"

*That hasn't been determined. Even if I knew, I couldn't say. They never talk to me.*

"Yes, that's right, isn't it." Aleishia's eyes fixed on the fire. "Do you suppose it will be this son who will stop them? Or are we still waiting?"

*I don't know.* The sense of her location shifted away from the hearth towards the chair where Thelea sat, still fitfully napping. *Look after her, Master.*

"I will do what I can, of course." Aleishia tried to sound nonchalant, but to hear herself so addressed after decades was more painful than she cared to admit. "I can't make any promises. Things are happening fast. You have my word, though, that if she needs me, I'll be there."

She felt the presence shift, drawing away. *So will I, Master. So will I.* For a moment, Aleishia could almost see the other's fingers brush Thelea's black hair, and then she did something unusual. For an instant, she seemed to hover, her presence a gentle benediction, over the alcove where Rurik slept. Then, like a candle being snuffed out, her sense was gone, and they were only three again.

Aleishia looked to the dying fire for another stretch of uncounted minutes, and then closed her eyes. She could rest a little now. Outside, the sky was passing from violet to lavender as the planet turned toward the sun. Morning would be soon enough to find them a way home.

Giriad looked uneasily at the lightening sky. When all three had been there, the night noises didn't seem so close or so frightening. Last night had been another story entirely. It was hard to sleep when you knew no one was keeping watch. Every time the grass rustled in a breeze, he'd been bolt upright, clawing for his blaster. The sound of an animal crashing somewhere in the brush had put him into a fit of nerves that hadn't abated for more than an hour. This was not what he'd signed on for at the Academy.

He squinted at his chrono in the dim light. Thelea and Rurik had been gone more than a day now-they'd set out almost before first light the previous day. Hopefully, they'd return by sundown tonight. Another night on the plains would be too much. Futilely he thumbed his comlink and listened to the static. Out here, in the wilderness, even empty noise was a comfort. Small, perhaps, but still a comfort.

"What do you mean, the Aris Val never arrived?" Varkris was trying very hard to keep his voice low. The hooded figure on the hologram flickered silently. "I had an ambush arranged in the asteroid field."

"You planned improperly. Your pirate allies would only have lead them to you, and then to us." The figure shifted a little and Varkris cringed, but the anticipated punishment did not come. "They are lost."

"But not dead?"

"No." It was almost a sigh. "They live."

"That can be fixed." Varkris clenched his teeth. "Just tell me where they are."

"We will deal with this. You have failed in this matter." There was a long silence. Then, the hooded one spoke again, his voice a harsh whisper. "We have a more important task for you."

"What are your orders?"

What came next stunned him. "There is a great battle coming," his master said. "You will be there, and you must make sure of one thing."

"Anything," he agreed. Too quickly.

"This ship," the master said, his holographic arm gesturing to encompass the Executor. "Your fleet's finest battleship."

"She's the pride of the fleet." Varkris still could not read the emotions in the other's voice. "Without her, we'd be lost."

"Yes," and the word trailed off into a hiss. "This ship. Your ship. This battle will be fierce, and many will be lost. And this ship...." Again, he seemed to look around. "You must make absolutely sure that this ship does not survive."

Thelea's eyelashes flickered and she shifted in the chair, stiff muscles protesting vociferously. The smell of something cooking, something sweet, reminded her that she hadn't really eaten in longer than she cared to remember. Then she remembered where she was, at the home of a stranger who'd somehow talked her and Rurik into coming here-

Rurik. Her eyes snapped open, but she didn't move in the chair. Where was he? She remembered them both walking in-

"Good morning."

Thelea jumped, her hand automatically darting for her blaster. She was halfway out of the chair before she spotted the speaker, that same woman who had lead them from the bar the night before. She was ladling something onto a flat iron over the little fire.

"Did you sleep well?"

Thelea took a moment before answering. "I think so." Tentatively she stretched stiff arms and legs, and she put the blaster back in its holster. Surreptitiously, she reached under her cape and felt for the handle of the lightsaber. Still there.

"Good. You both were very tired." Aleishia. That was her name. She was making a small pile of the little cakes on a platter. "I thought it best you sleep. Are you hungry?"

Thelea's stomach twisted at the mention of food, reminding her just how long it had been since they'd had anything but ration bars. "A bit, yes." She rose stiffly. "How long were we asleep?"

"Oh, a good ten standard hours, give or take. You were very tired." Carefully she slid four of the flat cakes onto a plate. "Here. Eat up. You had a hard walk."

Thelea promptly burned her fingers. Trying a more delicate tack, she carefully pulled off a piece of what turned out to be sweet-meal bread. In spite of herself, she took several more quick bites-it was good, and she was hungrier than she'd thought. "Rurik?"

"There's plenty to go round. Let him sleep a while longer." Aleishia smiled, and there was a sardonic edge to the expression. "Humans are, after all, so much weaker than the Chiss."

There it was again. "How do you know about us? Humans have never reached homeworld. Ever. So how-"

"So many questions." Aleishia kept her back turned. "And not the right ones." When did I start to sound like Master Yoda? I'm not that old, yet. "I have visited homeworld," and she used the Chiss word, "but it was a very long time ago. You would have been very young."

"Maybe not. But then I suppose you know about our life span, too." Thelea delicately brushed the crumbs into a neat pile. In the alcove, Rurik shifted and muttered something. "Should I wake him up?"

Aleishia smiled, as if suddenly understanding a private joke. "Yes, why don't you? I'm sure he'll be starving-men always are."

Thelea let that comment slide. "Rurik." She pushed at his shoulder and he rolled over, burrowing under the covers a little farther. "Rurik, this is an order. Get up. Do you want to miss breakfast?"

"All right, all right. You may be my CO, but that doesn't mean you have to be a nag." Blinking blearily, he sat up. "I hate to ask, but where are we?"

"At my home." He turned sleep-heavy eyes to Aleishia. "And if you sleep much longer, you will miss getting fed. Hungry?"

He swung his feet to the floor and rose, bumping his head on the edge of the alcove. "That does smell good."

"Never fails," Aleishia said, smiling serenely. "Men always think with their stomachs." She piled several of the still-warm cakes on a plate and handed it to Rurik.

"Human males, at any rate," Thelea felt obliged to add. Aleishia laughed quietly.

Rurik felt it necessary to make a pretense of offense. "Not all of us. If we did, none of us would last in the Navy."

"It's amazing any of us do, with what they expect us to eat." Thelea took another of the cakes and sat down on the ottoman. "You never did mention why you're being so helpful."

Aleishia placed the empty bowl under a water spigot in another alcove. "Perhaps I'm just a good neighbor, and wanted to help a fellow human, or perhaps I have a soft spot for the Chiss."

"That would make you unique among the races of the galaxy," Thelea said dryly.

"Perhaps," Aleishia chuckled. "You'll have a better chance finding a pilot to take you there than to the Empire."

"I wanted to ask about that," Rurik interrupted. "Was the bartender right-no one will take us even to a refueling station in Imperial space?"

Aleishia was already shaking her head before he finished. "That's one thing about living out here-we're well out of the Empire's grasp, but almost no one tries to go there. So, it'll certainly cost you to get any of the pilots to even consider it."

"And we have Imperial credits, and not many of those," Thelea murmured. "Do you know anyone who might take us?"

The older woman sighed and sank into the chair where Thelea had been sleeping. "No, I'm afraid not. If they know you're Imperials, they won't help you anyway. And I would offer to help with the money, but I'm afraid my own finances are rather limited."

"So we're stuck here." Rurik stared at his hands. "Unless someone comes looking for us, and they won't."

"No one even knows the Aris Val is gone," Thelea said. "They will figure it out, I'm sure, but by then. . . ."

Rurik sighed and looked around the cramped dwelling. "Well, at least this isn't too bad a planet, and the Empire will have to reach here eventually."

"Maybe our grandchildren will be rescued, but even I will be dead by then," Thelea commented, without carefully considering the vagaries of galactic Basic.

Rurik raised an eyebrow. "Thelea, I had no idea that you were even interested, much less reproductively compatible." Aleishia concealed a smile behind her hand.

"I meant that in a figurative sense, Commander," Thelea said archly, but she mentally replayed the sentence just in case. "The Empire's not coming to rescue us, and there doesn't seem to be anyone who'll take us off-planet. Can we buy a ship? We have the money, and the three fighters to trade."

Aleishia considered that. "There are dealers, certainly. What you'd be able to afford, now, I can't say. Whatever they have will be small, and possibly very alien. I don't know how far you'll be able to go."

"We don't need to get to Imperial Center," Thelea said. "We just need to reach the nearest Imperial base so we can get a message back to the Executor." She looked around the room. "I don't suppose you have any sort of database access?"

Aleishia rose, a bit stiffly, and began rooting in a wooden box shoved unobtrusively against the wall. "I have something similar, although I'm sure it's quite out of date." She produced a silver object vaguely reminiscent of a datapad. "The boundaries may have changed, but the names are the same. We should be able to figure out where you are in relation to Imperial space."

"Let me see." Thelea studied the object for a moment-it was small, with a hopelessly outdated data screen and tiny data entry keys. She squinted at the printout. "How old is this thing, anyway?"

"Old enough," Aleishia said, and there was just enough tone of admonishment that Thelea did not question further. "I'm sorry it's not more sophisticated, but I don't spend much on modern comforts."

"Here's Dhregan," Rurik said, leaning over her shoulder. "There isn't much around us."

"What about this?" Thelea paged over a few screens. "Telamara system. . . isn't there an Imperial outpost there?"

"There's a base on Telamara itself," Rurik said. "It's not much, but Governor Rothan's not a bad sort. He'll be willing to help us, and he won't ask too many questions." He reached over her arm and tapped a few keys. "It's about two days in hyperspace, but if we find the right ship, we could make it."

"You sound like you know him personally," Thelea said.

"I ought to-I grew up on Telamara. Went to primary school with his daughter, Gena-nice girl. A little wild, maybe, but can you blame her? Being a governor's daughter wasn't easy. I mean, my parents were tough, but they couldn't send out a squad of stormtroopers to come and find me if I stayed out past bedtime."

"You never mentioned where you came from," Thelea mused, studying him through glowing slits.

"It was in my file-you could have looked. Besides," he pointed out, "you never told me where you were from."

"That was different. In any case, Telamara seems to be the closest Imperial world. We have to get there and contact the fleet." Thelea looked up at Aleishia. "Where can we find these ship dealers?"

By morning light, the city proved to be larger than Thelea had originally thought. The range of life forms on the streets indicated that Aleishia had been right-this was a way station world. Thelea recognized a Togorian, a Bothan, several disreputable-looking Quarren, and species that she knew but was equally sure Rurik had never seen before-fellow denizens of the Unknown Regions, many of whom saw the red eyes and blue skin and automatically shied away. She pulled the cowl of her survival cape closer about her face.

Aleishia moved comfortably through the streets, her stride confident and unencumbered by the long robes she was wearing. She had shed the dark brown she had worn the day before in favor of a rich dark blue cloak with a tunic and trousers made of the same material. Her dark hair hung down her back, and the shorter strands that framed her face were pulled back with a plain leather tie. The white streak above her right temple was almost iridescent against the darker tresses. She wore no weapon that Thelea could see, but she moved as easily as if she had a squad of stormtroopers behind her and no one would dare approach. Thelea and Rurik trailed along like twin shadows, taking two steps to her every one, though she was shorter than either of the pilots.

They wended their way down the narrow, dusty allies, taking so many hairpin turns and switchback paths that Thelea soon lost her bearings entirely. They were headed somewhere near the city center, she could tell that much. Aleishia finally lead them to the door of a shop, recessed in the wall of a dingy gray building. Thelea could see the folded wings of a Lambda-class shuttle peeking over the rooftop. That, she thought glumly, was almost certainly going to be out of their price range.

Aleishia rapped on the door and gestured for Thelea and Rurik to hang back. "Seln," she called softly, "kare v'la'a?"

Thelea frowned. "How does she know that?"

"What?" Rurik asked.

"That's the language of the lower caste," Thelea replied, not taking her eyes from Aleishia. "I learned it from the servants who took care of me, almost everyone does."

"But it's not something a human traveler would be likely to pick up," he surmised.

The door slid aside and a stooped figure peered out. "Aleishia?" the voice croaked, in the distinctive harsh accent of a worker caste. "What do you want?" Thelea shivered at the familiar language.

"Seln, I have visitors from off-world," Aleishia said, switching to Basic. "They need to purchase a ship that can carry three people-nothing fancy, just enough to get them to Imperial territory. They don't have much money, but they are my friends. If you can help them I will consider it a personal favor."

Thelea smiled a little. "That was a neat trick," she murmured to Rurik. "Making the request a personal favor means if he helps us, she'll owe him an equal debt."

Aleishia turned and beckoned to them. "It's all right. Seln deals in used ships, and I'm sure he'll have something that will suit."

"All right, all right," the Chiss said, in Basic laced with a rich, liquid accent. "You had better come in." He stepped back, gesturing with a downward flick of a wrist for them to follow.

The room was a jumble of spare bits from ships, speeders, and technology Thelea could only guess at. Seln was a man a human might judge to be past a hundred, and in human years he was probably much older. His hair had probably once been as blue-black as Thelea's own, but it was speckled with white, and the red eyes glowed a little dimmer than hers. Another difference, one that she didn't notice but Rurik did, was in their faces. Thelea, and Admiral Thrawn, once Rurik thought about it, had finer features, and aristocratic bearings. It might have been their military backgrounds, or the obvious age difference, but there was something more there, he thought.

Seln turned to face them, hands folded before him. "What sort of ship are you interested in, friends?"

Thelea pushed back her hood, and his eyes widened. "Anything that will get us safely to Imperial territory and not cost more than we can afford."

Seln had forgotten about the deal, however. "Val'an'lora," he said, bowing low at the waist, "you do my humble house honor."

"I am not a lady of high degree, Bav'i," she said, returning his greeting with a smaller bow and using the gentle 'grandfather' as a title. "I am an orphan girl, in need of your help."

"Surely one of your bearing is no peasant such as I," he said, continuing the ritualized greeting despite her unorthodox reply. "Please, we cannot conduct business here in public. Come and we can discuss things properly over chai." He turned and vanished behind a ratty cloth curtain. They could hear the clattering of metal on metal and the sound of water running.

Rurik reached out and tapped Thelea on the shoulder. "What in the worlds was that about?"

Thelea sighed, and he could have sworn she looked a little sheepish. "Seln feels it necessary to conduct this business as though I were the lady of a noble house." She sighed and settled herself on a rickety metal chair. "I think we'd better play along."

"So are you?" Rurik cleared off a stool and dropped inelegantly onto it.

"Am I what?" Thelea asked. Aleishia, standing quietly by, smiled.

"Are you a noble lady?" he asked, with a decidedly impish grin.

"I'm an Imperial officer, which is more than you'll be if you ever mention this to anyone," she snapped, a bit petulantly, he thought. "If it gets us a ship out of here, I'll act like the Queen of Naboo." She frowned suddenly. "That is an awfully silly name."

"Where is Naboo, anyway?" Rurik asked. "I've heard that expression before. Did they just make it up?"

Aleishia spoke, very softly. "It's a place that doesn't exist anymore." Her voice was suddenly very, very old. Rurik was about to ask what she meant when he caught the sharp look Thelea was giving him. He knew that glare too well to open his mouth.

Seln reappeared, carrying a tray with a steaming pot at the center and four small silver-metal cups. "I have little to offer, Val'an'lora," he said. "If you would accept my humble hospitality it would do great honor to my house."

"You do me honor with your hospitality," Thelea replied, taking one of the silver cups in both hands and raising it with a gracefulness Rurik had never noticed in her before. Even her posture was different-not stiff and militarily precise, but relaxed and elegant, her expression distant.

Rurik took one of the cups as the tray passed his way and Aleishia took the third. Seln put the tray down and bowed slightly. "Is the chai to your taste?"

Thelea nodded, taking a small sip of the hot liquid. There was the familiar blend of spices and sweet, a taste she hadn't realized she missed. There was a faint bitter aftertaste that suggested the leaves had been kept in a warm, damp environment too long. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rurik flinch and cover a grimace. Aleishia was calming drinking hers. If she had any opinion, she was keeping it well to herself. "It is excellent. I do not wish to offend, but if we might discuss business while we drink? My. . .associates and I require transport off-world, a small ship capable of carrying three people long enough to reach the Telamara system."

"If I might ask, what business brings you to such a remote world?" Seln asked, taking a seat-lower, Rurik noticed, than that Thelea occupied. "And to travel to an Imperial stronghold-"

Aleishia spoke up before Thelea could reply. "They are in the service of the Syndic Mith'raw'nuruodo," she said, her tone silencing the objection already forming on Thelea's lips. "Would you question his will?"

Rurik thought the name she had just spoken was Admiral Thrawn's full name, but he still wasn't sure of it; or why, for that matter, an Imperial admiral's name should produce such an awed reaction from a person Thelea seemed to think was, essentially, a peasant.

"My apologies," Seln said, bowing again. "I did not mean to question the orders of a Syndic. Now, a ship for three people, medium-range. . .I assume you are accustomed to fighter craft, kavrick-class, perhaps?"

"I myself fly an Imperial TIE Interceptor most of the time," Thelea said. "In fact, part of our. . .assets for the purchase of this ship are three Interceptor-class fighters, two in good condition and one. . .battle-damaged. We also have some nine hundred-odd of this world's currency. I'm afraid that's all."

Seln's eyes narrowed. "The Syndic has not allowed for your expenses?"

Aleishia cut in again, and her voice carried the same strange authority it had possessed in the cantina. "They are traveling on an undercover operation and encountered some difficulty. The nature of the mission prevents their contacting their commanders."

"In such a situation, how can I refuse you help?" Seln's response was as dazed as the barkeeper's had been. "Or ask for reimbursement?"

Rurik shot Thelea a pointed look. She had already noticed the destitute condition of the rooms. "We have to pay you something, of course. Appearances. You understand."

"Of course." He did, Rurik thought, look a bit relieved. "Perhaps, two of the Interceptors, and the currency, when you see what I have. Will you come back to my yard, Val'an'lora?"

Thelea rose gracefully, her chin tilted proudly up. "Please, show us."

The shipyard seemed to hold more spare parts than actual functioning vessels. There was, as she'd noticed before, a Lambda-class shuttle that looked from the paint on the gray bulkhead to have gone through several changes of ownership. She recognized few of the other ships and parts lying around in the cluttered yard. A clattering of metal somewhere ahead of them suggested that the sensors mounted on the yard walls were more form than function.

"I have acquired a small ship that I think would suit your purposes nicely. I would not dream of taking more than your three fighters for it-though currency, is, of course, very useful," he added, a little sheepishly. He guided them around the shuttle. "Now, it's quite old, but it is in excellent condition and certainly capable of reaching the Telamara system carrying two comfortably and three, well, in close quarters."

"If there's only two seats, one of you can ride standing," Thelea whispered before Rurik could even think of an appropriate risque remark.

"I would have thought that since you're so superior to humans, you'd be able to stand for two days," he muttered.

Seln stopped before a small, pointy-nosed craft and gestured grandly. "Sienar Fleet System's Infiltrator."

Thelea blinked. The ship looked like the illegitimate offspring of a TIE fighter and an X-wing, with the same pointed fuselage of the Rebel fighter and the paneled wings and round cockpit of the Imperial ship. "How old is this?"

Aleishia's face was oddly drawn, pinched and pale. "SFS hasn't made them in almost thirty years. There were only a few, and I saw one only once."

"You're shaking." Rurik put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

She reached up and patted his hand in a very motherly fashion. "I'm all right, child. Don't mind a silly old woman."

Thelea, meanwhile, was walking around the ship slowly, tracing her fingers across the folded wings. There were numerous dents, scrapes and scars on the black surface, but nothing seemed damaged beyond repair. "A navicomputer?"

"Fully up-to-date," Seln assured her. "Long-range, too. I would ordinarily never let it go for such a sum, but for you, Val'an'lora, I can make the sacrifice."

Rurik noticed the flicker of reluctance that crossed her features. "I would not want to cause you further hardship, Master Trader," she said.

"Hardship? Pah! It is an old ship, and I could not hope for much. Now, two modern Imperial fighters will bring me enough money to last me out another season. As for the other, well, parts are always in demand."

"Could we look inside?" Thelea asked, and the old trader tapped in the security code for the hatch.

The cockpit was indeed cramped, with a single seat for the pilot. Behind the old-style pilot's chair there was more than enough room for Rurik and Giriad to sit. She realized she was already thinking of herself as the pilot, which was, she admitted, a good sign. Stepping around the chair, she ran her fingers over the smooth, old-style control yoke. The console was dark, but she could see that there was no heads-up display, and though the SFS layout was much the same, the shape and contouring of the switches, screens and levers was so old it was almost quaint.

"Something was kept here." She turned around to see what Rurik was talking about. He pointed to the skid marks on the deck plates. "It looks like there used to be something bolted to the metal."

"The ship is as it was when I acquired it," Seln offered. "There have been some modifications made, it seems, but as I have none of the original specification, I can't tell you what is missing. Only what's here. There is a hyperdrive, and a navicomputer."

"The shields and the lasers?" Thelea went back to studying the controls. The panels were labeled with the old Basic script, legible but outdated. "Not that I hope we'll need them."

"Working, I assure you. Quad lasers, and the ship is fitted for torpedoes, though there were none with it when I came by it."

"Hopefully this trip'll be a little less exciting than the one that got us here," Rurik muttered.

"We can leave the ship at the garrison on Telamara." Thelea was thinking out loud. "They'll find some way to dispose of it. Seln," and the old man bowed as she turned to him, "the ship will suit us perfectly. We need only agree on the price."

His face creased in a million wrinkles. "As you said, the Interceptors. As for currency-"

"Would five hundred of this world's credits be sufficient?" Thelea offered.

"More than enough, my lady." He bowed again. "Where are your Interceptors located?"

"About ten kilometers planetary west from the city," she said. "Would it be possible for you to provide us transport out there, perhaps to inspect the fighters yourself? Then we could fly the two working fighters and haul the damaged ship back here."

"I have an airspeeder that should suffice. If you'll follow me. Aleishia," and he turned to the hooded figure at the base of the ship's ramp. "You will accompany us, of course?"

"Of course," she said, and her voice was distinctly strained. "If you please, can we continue this discussion in the speeder? This ship. . . ." She shivered. "Please, let's go."

Thelea frowned. Aleishia's face was drawn, pinched and pale. Her hands were folded inside her robes and pulled tight against her body. As they came down the ramp she backed away as though they carried an unpleasant odor with them. Thelea looked from the human woman to the ship, which seemed perfectly all right to her. Perhaps she was losing her touch with judging human body language. She shrugged, and followed the old man towards an airspeeder that looked as old as the Infiltrator.

Omi-tanaga huddled in the doorway, watching the rickety speeder make its way towards the outskirts. Shifting his breathing filter away from his mouth, he thumbed the switch of his comlink.

"The Imps are leaving with the old man," he hissed, "and you were right, Hura. The Jedi witch-woman is with them. If we are patient, they will lead us to their fighters. They are only four. It will be an easy and honorable kill." He switched off the comlink and started up the dusty street to where his own swoop was waiting.