Rising Stars

Author's note: This is a sequel to "Shooting Stars", which may be
found in the Star Wars Archive at ftp.wpi.edu.  Rising Stars features
characters based on Marvel Comics characters, which have been
reinterpreted to adapt to the current saga continuity. Flint was
originally created by Jo Duffy. Lumiya was originally created by Jo
Duffy and David Michelinie. Romodi appears in the novelization of Star
Wars: A New Hope, ghost-written by Alan Dean Foster.  -Brendon
Wahlberg

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

PROLOGUE

The vast arrowhead shape of the Super Star Destroyer Executor hung in
space above the verdant moon of Yavin, its cityscape hull glittering
with thousands of lights.  One tiny light detached itself from the
rest and fell away towards the cloudy jungle world below. The
tri-winged shape of the Imperial Lambda class shuttle gave it the
aspect of an improbable bird, hunting for metallic prey in the misty
trees blurring past beneath it. The shuttle's destination was a large
clearing next to a cluster of towering stone ruins. The predatory ship
cleared the last of the great trees and gently drifted down among an
orderly group of assault shuttles and TIE fighters. The clearing was a
hive of activity, full of Stormtroopers and officers hurrying to pick
up the pieces of the recent Imperial fiasco. The ancient temple which
hulked above all of them had been the main rebel base from which a
successful attack on the Death Star had been launched. By all rights,
it should have been the rebels' tomb as well.  After the battle of
Yavin, an Imperial blockade commanded by Admiral Griff had pinned the
rebels down while the Executor was completed. It had suited Lord Vader
to annihilate them personally with his impressive new flagship. But
the rebels had had two strokes of good fortune. First, the planet of
Calamari had gone into open revolt and attacked Griff's blockade while
Yavin base was evacuated. Second, Griff had obstructed Lord Vader's
attack on the rebel fleet, seeking to win the glory for himself. The
Admiral had paid for his foolishness with his life, but the rebel
fleet had escaped from Yavin.  The Executor had proceeded to the Yavin
system to sift the ruins for some clue to the rebels' destination.
Stormtrooper boots now echoed in the stone hallways and empty hangars
of the Massassi Great Temple, where once alien feet had walked. A
signal alert suddenly brought the soldiers to attention and sent them
moving briskly out of the Temple and into the clearing, where they
lined up in a precise formation. The ramp of the shuttle that had just
landed lowered with a hiss of steam that mingled with the ground
mists. Out of the billowing whiteness strode a figure of absolute
blackness. Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, stood at the bottom of
the ramp in silence, looking not at the ranks of troopers, but over
their heads at the enormous ruins. He was pensive. Something stirred
in him at the sight of the huge stepped pyramid. There was a sense of
familiarity to it that disturbed him.  The approach of General Veers
distracted Vader.  Veers was an eminently calm and practical man, who
felt that as long as he did his duty efficiently, he had nothing to
fear, not even the angry Sith Lord whose will had been so recently
thwarted. Veers stepped up to gaze dispassionately at Vader's black
breath mask.  "My Lord, the rebel base is completely deserted," said
Veers. "The computer banks have been swept clean of any information,
and we have found no clues as to the destination of the rebel fleet."
Veers gestured at two Stormtroopers who were holding a filthy, aged
human slumped unconscious between them. "We found this survivor in a
smaller temple across the river. He evidently stayed behind to set off
concussion charges that destroyed a TIE bomber flight as it came
in. We found him barely alive in the rubble of the building."  Vader
looked closely at the bleeding, gaunt old man in question, and felt a
surprised recognition. "This is Jan Dodonna, one of the most important
military commanders in the Alliance. There is a standing order for his
execution. No doubt the Emperor will wish to speak with him. See that
he remains alive, General."  Veers saluted. "Yes, My Lord."  Vader
strode past as Dodonna was taken to a waiting assault shuttle. He was
focused on the ruins again. There was something familiar about
them. He could pick out vast carvings, eroded with time and barely
visible amongst the crawling vines on the steep walls. Vader's eyes
widened behind his polished mask. The carvings were old Sith
symbols. But Vader had not heard of a Sith outpost existing in the
Yavin system. The troops moving around him were unaware of their
Commander's astonishment. Nor did they hear it when a low voice,
sounding like the rumblings of a distant storm, spoke Darth Vader's
name.  Vader looked up sharply and reached out with the Force. He
immediately pinpointed the source of the call, a long rectangular
palace ruin across the river, its fallen stone blocks buried in the
under growth. The Dark Lord left the clearing and the Imperial forces
behind, and walked decisively into the jungle. The lush plant life
parted before him at a touch of his mind, revealing the choked, muddy
river just ahead. Before even a smear of mud could soil his gleaming
boots, the Sith Lord rose silently into the air and glided over the
meandering watercourse, settling in front of the foreboding palace
entryway. He hesitated at the absolute darkness beyond, but something
within it knew him and was calling to its own.  Soon after he entered,
he left the light behind. He found himself in a cold chamber, the
great size of which was only felt. The small lights of his life
support controls did nothing to illuminate the space around him. For a
moment, there was only the slow sound of his mechanized breathing,
then a bleak voice intoned, "Welcome, Lord Vader." There was a ripple
in the darkness, and a purple glow was born there. The light grew, and
condensed into a detailed human shape. It was a large man in archaic
armor. His majestic face bore three parallel scars, and an odd symbol
was on his forehead. The shimmering apparition regarded Vader with a
hint of disdain. "So, this is what has become of the Dark Lord of the
Sith," he said, staring at Vader's armor. "A cyborg, a cripple, kept
alive only by machines. You're as much of a prisoner as I am, forced
to exist in these four thousand year old ruins."  Vader's lightsaber
ignited at the same moment as his anger. The crimson blade pulsed
hotly in front of the cold mocking spirit, dimming the figure's
radiance with its own.  "Who are you!" Vader demanded, his deep voice
full of danger.  "I warn you, Lord Vader, do not think to attack me
with that weapon in this place. I can channel enough power back
through it to destroy you. This structure does more than maintain my
existence; it is a focus for Sith magic that I myself constructed four
thousand years ago, when I was Dark Lord of the Sith."  Vader lifted
his blade away. "You are Exar Kun."  "Yes, it's good to be
remembered," Kun smiled darkly. I have been wanting to speak with you
about the order of the Sith, Lord Vader." The smile became a frown.
"In particular, why it no longer exists!"  Vader shut down his
lightsaber. The purple light thrown off by Exar Kun glinted on his
highly polished helmet as he stood immobile, his stare fixed on the
accusing face before him. "They are all dead," he began, "killed in
battle with the Jedi during the Emperor's purge -" "Not killed,"
interrupted Kun sharply, "sacrificed by Palpatine for his own ends!
And that left you alone, Dark Lord over no one!"  Vader recoiled,
offended at Kun's words, then collected his own dark dignity. "History
teaches that your own defeat left nothing of the Sith either. The
survivors went into hiding and their descendants lost much of your
fabled knowledge and power. When I came to them, they were merely an
order of monk archivists, keeping the remaining books of Sith
lore...do not speak to me of failure, Exar Kun."  Kun looked sullenly
at Vader. "I know what happened to the Sith. I watched events
transpire over the millennia, while I was trapped here. I know how far
my followers fell. But because they didn't forget their former glory,
they still had farther to fall. They had a prophecy that one day, a
new Dark Lord would come to lead them to triumph."  "They believed I
was the one foretold," Vader said.  "When I was saved by my Master and
given a new body, they helped me to recover." He touched his
mask. "They created this, in the image of the helm of a great Sith
Warlord of the past."  "That was Sar Maland, long before my time,"
said Kun impatiently, "a name to conjure lost conquests with. I am
aware of what they hoped you would be. The problem was that some of
the Sith became impatient for the prophecy to be fulfilled. Before you
ever arrived, they went out from their monastery on Horuz and followed
the guidance of the Force to find a young boy named Espaa. They took
him, raised him, and trained him in the ways of the Sith." Kun paused,
looking closely at Vader for any hint that he already knew this, and
finding none. "That boy was not the one they had hoped for," Kun said
flatly, turning away from Vader.  "He surpassed the Sith quickly, but
his goals were never to lead them. In some real way...the Force chose
Espaa as the agent it wanted to work through. He became the greatest
Master of the dark side. After that, he wanted no competition while he
conquered the galaxy. He decided to use and destroy the Sith. You know
I'm talking about Palpatine, don't you," demanded Kun, facing Vader
once more.  Vader struggled with what he was hearing. It was mostly a
revelation to him, but it made a horrible kind of sense. The Emperor's
powers had to have come from somewhere. What Vader could not accept
was the accusation that his Master had coldly betrayed the Sith. "He
is my Master," Vader insisted, "he sent me to the Sith to learn from
them. He gave me all that I have. You can keep your lies, Exar Kun-"
"He knew about the prophecy," Kun cut in. "He sent you to them as the
first step in his manipulations. He wanted them to think their days of
power and glory had returned.  Then, when the time came to crush the
Jedi, he used the Sith as his weapon. But the Jedi were too strong,
and they were forewarned by your old Master, Kenobi. Many Jedi died,
yes, but all the Sith died except you, and the Monastery was ruined."
Vader felt the pain of those memories. He had faced Kenobi on Horuz,
and the Jedi Master had nearly killed him.  Kenobi had left him to
die, forced to flee by attacking Sith adepts. Kenobi had known about
the Sith after that, and he could have prepared the Jedi.  Exar Kun
pressed on relentlessly. "You were not even present for their final
defeat, called to the Emperor's side so you could not save them. What
did he tell you? That the Sith were taken by surprise? That it was too
late to help them? He probably foresaw the entire chain of
events. Then he had you to help him destroy the weakened Jedi order,
you, the last Dark Lord of the Sith, now the Emperor's servant. When
your title was mine, it was a station of power. Palpatine has made it
a mockery. You believe all of his lies," sneered Kun, "and he uses you
most of all."  "The Emperor is my Master!" Vader raged, pushed over
the edge. "I will not hear you heap scorn upon his name!"  Kun's light
form blazed, matching Vader's anger.  "The Emperor is a dead thing,
like me! He has misused his power, and it has killed him! But like me,
he found a way to cheat death."  Vader backed down, confused. He
recalled that his Master had regained his youth after the destruction
of the Death Star, but he had not imagined that it had involved dying
and being reborn.  "Yes," Kun continued, "you must learn what kind of
creature he is. He is not fit to bring a final end to the Sith.  You
are still the Dark Lord. I charge you to restore the order.  Pass on
what you know, and the Sith will be reborn."  Vader struggled for
control. Kun probably had him right where he wanted him. His beliefs
were being challenged, and he felt vulnerable. "My Master would not
allow it, if what you say is true," he grated.  "I will show you how
to hide your thoughts from him, as you seek out and train the first of
the new Sith. It will only require a few. In my time, the order was
restored by four people." Exar Kun held out his spectral hands in a
gesture of peace. "We should not be enemies, you and I. We can help
one another."  Vader still trembled slightly with repressed hostility.
"Then I know who the first of the new Sith will be. I am searching for
my son, and when I find him, I will train him in the Sith ways."  "I
felt your son's presence, on this moon," said Kun. "His actions
preserved my existence. I even tried to deliver him to you, but
circumstances beyond my control led to my failure. However, even if
you don't find him, you must still rebuild the Sith. There will be
others who will be suitable. You will know them for what they are. "
"And what will I teach them?" Vader rumbled.  "I know you retain only
a few books and artifacts of Sith power, which you hide from
Palpatine. But I have some help to give you in that matter. Lift the
stone at my feet."  Vader bent and grasped the edge of a dimly lit
flagstone. With a smooth effort of his cyborg strength, he cast the
stone aside. In a shallow hole beneath, he found a small cube that
glowed softly with a purple light. He lifted it out, cradling it in
his gloved palm.  "What is this, Exar Kun?" he demanded.  "A gift for
you, my successor. My own Sith Holocron." The glowing face of Exar Kun
held a look of deep satisfaction.

* * *

Bast Castle was Darth Vader's private refuge on the barren world of
Vjun. It rested atop the flat surface of a huge tower of rock,
surrounded by a sky full of violent acid storm clouds. The great up
thrusting spire had been sliced horizontally, creating a lofty
plateau, reachable only by flight. The dark side stronghold was made
of both stone and gleaming metal, a reflection of both Vader's ancient
heritage and his current physical nature. Vader had designed it as a
shell-like enclosure with a central tower, a replica of the lost Sith
Monastery where he had become Dark Lord.  The halls of Bast Castle
were empty and echoing as Vader strode through them towards the
central audience chamber. Waiting for him there would be the first two
of the new Sith, just returned from their artifact quests. He had
required both initiates to seek out and rediscover pieces of Sith lore
as a final test of their abilities and commitment.  Now he was going
to meet them and pronounce their acceptance into the order of the
Sith.  He entered the large dome-shaped room, glancing briefly at the
murals on the ceiling that depicted the long history of the
Sith. Images of Dark Lords of the past formed a majestic parade high
above. Among them was Exar Kun, whose final resting place, Vader now
knew, was a moon of Yavin. Kun seemed to meet his eyes for a moment,
telling him, good work. This is a start.  Waiting in the center of the
room were two people, a man and a woman, both young and both highly
unusual in appearance. The woman was named Shira Brie, and Vader had
known of her all of her life. She had been raised on one of
Palpatine's estates and had been part of COMPNOR's adolescent
indoctrination program. An impressive Academy record had led Shira to
work in Imperial Intelligence. She was biologically altered to reject
pain and accelerate healing, and Vader had selected her to infiltrate
the rebel alliance.  Shira went into deep cover after the battle of
Yavin, posing as a rebel and waiting for a chance to damage the rebel
cause without wasting her own life. She had joined a small base on the
planet Kulthis in the Belderone system, a starfighter base where her
piloting skills made her a valuable recruit. The planet Belderone had
been the site of an AT-AT factory, which was soon discovered by the
rebels on Kulthis. Such an important target drew the attention of Luke
Skywalker and his newly formed "Rouge Squadron". Vader had received
news from a minor official that his son had been spotted on Belderone,
and had gone there at once with the Executor. He had also made sure
that the AT-AT factory was prepared for the inevitable rebel
attack. When the rebels struck, they were violently pushed
back. Vader's fleet arrived in the system, and Kulthis base was driven
to use a clever tactic to delay the strike fleet while they evacuated.
The rebels had a number of TIE fighters that they equipped with
hyperdrives. Rebel pilots had flown them among the Star Destroyers and
caused a great deal of damage. One of the pilots had been Shira Brie,
another, Luke Skywalker.  Shira had planned to shoot down Luke's
fighter, depriving the rebels of a valued Commander. In the chaos of
battle, with so many TIE's firing, her act would go unnoticed.  Vader
felt it was fortunate that she had not succeeded, despite the
consequences to Shira. His son's fledgling skill in the Force must
have been enough to reveal Shira as an enemy, and he shot her down
before she could fire. Luke had escaped into hyperspace, and Kulthis
had been evacuated successfully. Shira's damaged ship had drifted
among the Star Destroyers while her bio-augmentation kept her
alive. Her life signs were detected, and she was taken aboard and
placed into a Bacta tank.  Vader had gone down to Belderone to
investigate the sighting of his son. There, perhaps led by the Force,
he had come upon the other person who now stood before him as a Sith
initiate. His name was Flint, and his Jedi father had been killed in
the Emperor's purge. Flint had lived with his mother on Belderone,
running a small tavern. The place had burned when the rebels had been
forced to retreat through town, fleeing the AT-AT's. When Vader found
him, Flint was kneeling over the dead body of his mother, stricken
with grief. He had faced the Dark lord bravely, and Vader had told him
that he could sense Flint's potential in the Force. Flint's main
desire had been for power, to become someone who mattered, never again
to be as helpless as he was at that moment. He blamed the rebels for
his mother's death, and agreed to come with Vader and be trained by
him.  Vader had begun to see the unfolding future described by Exar
Kun.  Upon returning to the Executor, Vader had been surprised to
learn of the presence and fate of Shira Brie. He decided that it was
necessary to cyborg her to save her life.  In close contact with her
for the first time, he had sensed her Force potential as well. Vader
was aware of the workings of destiny, and decided to train both Shira
and Flint as the first new Sith.  His task contrasted sharply with his
memories of his own conflict-filled training in the dark side. With
his new students, there was no influence of the light side to break
free from. Lumiya smoothly followed her anger along the path of power,
and Flint's desire for strength made his road clear as well. Using the
Holocron and working away from the eyes of the Emperor, Vader had
educated them in the lost Sith powers of Exar Kun's day. They became
adept at the use of illusion, and penetrated secrets of alchemy and
transformation. Both had been open to the use of anger to unlock and
unleash power, and both learned how to broadcast their emotions to
influence others. Their final test had been to recreate a Sith
artifact, in keeping with the ancient use of artifacts to focus and
multiply power.  The new Sith gave Vader their full attention as he
entered. Shira was partly masked with an angular helmet that left only
her eyes visible. She had a gaze like sharpened steel. Sleek, smooth
gray metal armor covered most of her exterior, with some areas modular
in appearance like a circuit board. Her slim hips supported a small
control belt. Her cyborg body was far more sexual than Shira's had
been before; she looked like a mortal threat, contained in an
incongruously attractive package.  Vader was far beyond any concern
for physical attraction, but he sensed that Flint was interested in
her. Flint was a somber-looking man with a large, strong face, neat,
short brown hair, and cool blue eyes. He wore a suit of heavy plate
armor like something out of legends, complete with a cape. He held a
horned helmet with a mirror like surface in one gauntleted hand, and a
lightsaber hung at his side.  Flint and Shira went to their knees and
waited for Vader to tell them to rise. The Dark Lord regarded them for
a long moment. They gave him a feeling of pride. Exar Kun had been
right. The Sith should not perish, no matter what his Master
wanted. These were his students, his creations.  They gave his life
more meaning than it otherwise would have had. Flint seemed to Vader
to be a younger version of himself, in his old life, when he had just
begun to explore his power in the dark side. Shira was more like what
he had become later, part machine, a creature less connected to life
than to death, and stronger in the dark side as a result. Both of them
were his children.  Deep within, on a level just below awareness, the
bonds of servitude that made him Palpatine's creature began to loosen.
"Rise, my students," said Vader. "Are your artifact quests now
complete?" He looked at Flint first.  "Lord Vader," said Flint with
evident satisfaction, "I have rediscovered a kind of metal called
Mandalorian Iron, that resists the blade of a lightsaber. I have built
this suit of armor from it."  Vader nodded in approval. "And you have
constructed a lightsaber. Your skills are complete. I pronounce you to
be Flint of the order of the Sith."  Flint bowed deeply. Vader turned
to Shira.  "My Lord," she said tensely, "I have rediscovered a Sith
weapon called the light whip." She held up a cylindrical hand grip
bearing a single activation stud, attached to a long coil of metal
strands. "When I activate it, it channels energy along the physical
strands. It was a weapon created to defeat the Jedi lightsabers of
long ago." She waited, holding something back, coiled like her weapon.
Again, Vader showed his approval. "Your skills are complete," he
intoned. I pronounce you to be Shira of the-" "My Lord," she
interrupted firmly, "I ask to follow one Sith custom, and change my
name. I feel it is fitting, because my old self, Shira Brie, died at
Kulthis, killed by Luke Skywalker. In her place, another was born. I
take the name of Lumiya, the creator of the light whip, to show that I
am a weapon for the destruction of Skywalker and his rebellion."
Vader moved in on her, towering over her and radiating a sudden
threat. "You may take whatever name you wish, Lumiya, but you will not
destroy Skywalker. He is mine to deal with and mine alone. You may do
what you wish to the other rebels, but you will not seek him out. He
may one day become one of us. If you disobey me...I will destroy you."
Lumiya had backed up a few steps, and she tried to recover her
composure. It was clear that she bore considerable hatred for Luke,
and that she was repelled by the idea of him joining them, but that
she would obey him for now. "My Lord," she stammered, "I meant no
disobedience. Now that I know your wishes, I will carry them out. In
service to you, I will lay down my life for the destruction of the
Alliance."  Flint had been watching the confrontation with concern,
divided by his loyalty to Vader and his attraction to the beautiful
cyborg. When Vader relented, Flint seemed relieved that the moment had
passed. "I will tell you how you will both serve me," said Vader. "As
you know, your existence is not known to the Emperor, but you cannot
be hidden forever. When you finally go before him, it will be
necessary that he sees you as his servants in the dark side, like High
Inquisitor Tremayne is. To that end, you must be able to show that you
have served the Empire. Otherwise, he may destroy you or claim you for
his own. You do not want his full attention upon you...he is an
unforgiving Master.  Your first assignment will be to lead the new
blockade of the Mon Calamari shipyards. They have openly rebelled, and
are attempting to produce Capital ships for the Alliance. This must
not be allowed. The Emperor feels he cannot spare the forces necessary
to completely overwhelm the Mon Calamari. One day, he will punish
them, but not yet. They are too unimportant to him, but I see it
differently. I have persuaded my Master to create a blockade, which
you will command. Do not disappoint me, and we will face the Emperor
when the time is right."  Vader sensed the firm connection between his
students, created by the new assignment. He sensed a mutual attraction
as well, but in Lumiya, it was blended with pain, a reflection of the
self-loathing he knew lurked within her. He felt their loyalty to him,
and decided that he trusted them. Once again, he looked up at the
painted image of Exar Kun, and imagined that the spirit of the old
Dark Lord was pleased. The Sith lived again.

* * *

Biggs really should have been here, thought Tank sadly, as he waited
to get married. He stood in the front of the briefing room of the
Alliance Frigate Mercy, thinking about his one time father figure,
oblivious to the happy little group of rebels relaxing in chairs as
they waited for the ceremony to start. It was nearly three years ago
that Biggs had died, leaving Tank alone and forcing him to find his
own direction in life. Fortunately, a new life had been there for the
taking. Biggs had led him to Yavin Four, where Tank had fought against
the Empire's Death Star. Biggs had been killed in that battle, but
Tank had lived to decide to stay with the Alliance and carry on the
important struggle that Biggs had sacrificed himself for. As an
Academy trained gunner, Tank was a valuable recruit, and furthermore,
he was surprised at the notoriety and respect he earned simply by
being one of the very few survivors of the Battle of Yavin.  The
Alliance had been very willing to accept him, and Tank had been very
willing to accept the Alliance, largely due to the young woman who had
piloted the Y-wing with Tank as gunner in that battle, the woman who
was about to become his wife.  Shally Edrin, known to her fellow field
operatives in Alliance Intelligence as "Slaughter", was a formidable
person. Tank had met her on the way to Yavin, and had fallen in love
with her right away. To his great surprise, she had returned his
interest, showing it by sharing her tragic story and trusting him to
be her gunner and partner. Shally's father had been forcibly made into
a Stormtrooper in a radical indoctrination program aimed at producing
soldiers who would blindly follow the most sadistic orders. She and
her sister Genta had hunted across space for him, finding him only in
time to see him commit suicide as his conditioning failed. During
their flight from the city their father had helped to destroy, Genta
had been killed by Imperials, and Shally had nearly died
herself. Rebel medics had saved her life, and she had joined the
Alliance to deal out some measure of revenge on behalf of her
family. She had taken on the name of Slaughter as a self-reminder of
the purpose of her new life, and in large part, she had put the spirit
of her father to rest at Yavin. Such was her subsequent reputation,
however, that the name Slaughter had stuck firmly among the rebels
with whom she served. But to Tank, she would always be Shally.
"Excuse me," said a slightly squeaky, officious voice. "Perhaps we
could get started? We have a schedule to meet, and we are running
distressingly behind it. Even if you organics do not care about
efficiency and your other duties, I, as an astromech droid, am very
much concerned.  There is a mission to prepare for! There are a
thousand technical details to coordinate and confirm! I personally am
responsible for the maintenance of-" "Beesix!" said Tank sharply. "I
know you have work to do. So do I! But this is an important
occasion. Have a little patience, will you? Besides, shouldn't you be
checking on the bride, and not rolling around complaining, holding
things up even more?" Tank frowned at the short green cylindrical R2
unit that was moving agitatedly at his side. A gray box had been
mounted on top of its dome, where it resembled a sort of metal
hat. This object was an astromech voice box, a new device that
translated the electronic language of the R2 series into basic. Tank
had bought it for Shally's droid as a wedding present, knowing how
much she cared for the little machine, with the idea that it would
make her happy to be able to communicate with the loyal unit more
easily. He had ignored several warnings that the R2 series had never
been meant to talk, and that their headstrong personalities were best
left to beeps and whistles that one could ignore when they got
argumentative. Too late now, he thought, sighing.  Artoo Beesix seemed
chagrined at Tank's reprimand, and he scooted off to find his
Mistress. I shouldn't be so hard on the little guy, thought Tank. He
did save me from making the biggest mistake of my life. After the
battle of Yavin, Tank had fallen under the influence of an evil
entity, which caused him to believe that Luke Skywalker had sacrificed
Biggs to save himself. Tank had been about to turn Luke over to
something called a Sith Lord when Shally and Luke's friends had caught
up with him. Working with Luke's R2 unit, Beesix had forced Tank to
see that belief as a lie. Tank had surrendered Luke and was grateful
for the rebel hero's forgiveness afterwards. Tank had grown up on
Tatooine knowing Luke, but they had disliked each other.  Biggs had
stood between them, caring for each of them very much and trying not
to let either one get hurt. But Tank had been all too willing to
believe the worst about Luke, and was easily controlled by the dark
entity he had encountered in Yavin's ruins. After Tank had reconciled
with Luke, they had looked for evidence of that malevolent spirit, but
had found nothing.  Tank had left Luke on Yavin, and had gone with
Shally to serve on an Alliance starfighter base on the planet
Kulthis. He didn't see his fellow Tatooine native until after the
evacuation of Massassi base, when Luke had brought his Rouge squadron
to Kulthis to help attack an AT-AT factory on nearby Belderone. Tank
and Shally had discovered the factory on their first mission for Airen
Cracken. When Tank briefed Luke about it, the two of them had managed
to work together without much discomfort. Then, in a whirlwind series
of events that amazed Tank, a huge Imperial strike fleet had arrived
in the system and forced the evacuation of Kulthis. Luke had gone up
in a TIE fighter to delay the Imperials, and Tank hadn't seen him
again. He had, however, heard that Luke had survived. Which was lucky
for Luke, because other good people hadn't. Like Shira Brie, a young
woman at Kulthis base whom Tank had admired. She had given her life to
delay Darth Vader's fleet while he and Shally escaped. Shira should
have been here at the wedding too, he decided. She had helped to make
this day possible. She could sit next to Biggs, and Genta, and
Shally's father. Dead people didn't take up any space at weddings. It
was, in fact, the empty spaces where they should have been that were
so painful.  An excited murmur from the gathered rebels drew Tank back
to the present. He glanced up at the entrance to the briefing room,
and suddenly his breath was taken away.  His bride walked gracefully
in, preceded by Artoo Beesix, who was emitting small showers of flower
petals from one of his portals. Tank swallowed hard. He had never seen
her looking more beautiful. Certainty that she was the one for him
filled him completely. Shally was wearing a floor-length green gown,
according to the customs of her homeworld, Balfor. Her long brown hair
was tied in a simple knot and crowned with green flowers. Her feet
were bare. Her usual severe expression was replaced by a gentle smile
below sparkling gray eyes. Tank smiled back helplessly. For his part,
he was dressed in a simple, unadorned green robe, and he was also
barefoot.  The gathered rebels cheered as their comrades, Tank and
Slaughter, met at the front of the room, while Beesix rolled off to
one side. The bride and groom clasped tightly to each other, holding
close for a long moment. They had come through fire and death to reach
this day, and both felt like it was an incredible gift.  "You look
wonderful," said Shally, admiring how neat Tank's black hair was for a
change. His dark eyes admired her in turn, looking up at her from
several inches below. Tank was a short, thin man, and Shally had
greater stature and was seven years older than him. To one another,
these things didn't matter. They were equals.  Shally grinned. "Tank,
I have a surprise for you.  We're going to be able to do this ceremony
in the old Balforran way after all."  Tank's eyes widened. "But
doesn't that require a Jedi Knight to officiate?"  "Well," she
replied, looking back to the entryway, "I was able to get the next
best thing."  Tank was amazed to see Luke Skywalker walk in, to the
renewed cheers of the crowd. A big smile was on Luke's boyish face. He
strode up to Tank and Shally, then faced the room.  "I didn't know
Luke was a Jedi," hissed Tank out of the side of his mouth.  "He's
sort of in training," whispered Shally. "It'll be enough, now be
quiet."  "Are you two ready?" asked Luke quietly.  "Are you kidding?"
said Tank, eyeing Luke uncertainly. "I was born to do this."  "All
right then," said Luke loudly. "We can begin.  I've been told that the
Balforrans invited a Jedi Knight to conduct their weddings because
through the Force, the Jedi are in touch with all life. Today, we're
celebrating life, and how it has joined these two people. Marriage is
highly valued on Balfor. Their belief is that a person who lives alone
is imprisoned in bonds of loneliness." Luke turned to Tank and Shally,
and brought out two green cords. "These cords represent those bonds."
He looked at Shally questioningly, and she nodded, raising her
hands. Luke proceeded to tie them loosely together, leaving her hands
about fifty centimeters apart. He turned to Tank, who held up his own
hands after a reassuring look from Shally, and tied them in the same
fashion.  "True freedom in life," Luke continued, "comes when the
bonds of loneliness are cut and one is free to reach out and grasp the
loving hands of another."  Tank jumped as Luke suddenly produced and
ignited his lightsaber. Luke carefully dipped the humming blue energy
blade between Shally's outstretched wrists, burning through the cord
in an instant. He turned to Tank.  "Uh...Luke? No hard feelings about
that time I kidnapped you, right?" Tank asked nervously.  Luke looked
out over the audience, catching the eye of Wedge Antilles. His
lightsaber, meanwhile, drifted dangerously close to Tank's green
robe. Then, not looking at Tank at all, Luke smiled mischievously and
brought down the lightsaber, slicing the bonds at Tank's wrists
blindingly fast. Tank yelped and looked wildly at his freed
hands. They were unharmed.  "No hard feelings," said Luke, still
smiling.  Shally quickly stepped in and firmly took Tank's trembling
hands in her own. "I take your hands in mine," she said, "as I accept
you into my life. I give myself to you freely. Take these words as my
gift to you. Tank, I love you for who you are and what you are to
me. When you came into my life, I was alone in the universe. After I
lost my family and nearly died, I saw my remaining life only as a last
chance for revenge. You helped me to see that there was something
better to live for. I want everyone to know that finding you was
enough to make up for all my losses. You were all I had then, but now
you're all I'll ever really need."  "I take your hands in mine," Tank
replied, "as I accept you into my life. I give myself to you
freely. Take these words of mine as my gift to you. Shally, I finished
growing up with you. You came into my life just as I was losing Biggs,
who was like a father to me. You helped to shape the man that I am,
and so you're a part of me now.  The only one I could imagine sharing
my life with is you."  Still holding hands, they faced the gathering
with Luke, who then finished the service. "All of you are
witnesses. Join me in cheering for the new married couple, Tank Boma
and Shallnestra Edrin Boma!" Luke held up an encouraging hand, but
instead of cheers, he was faced with an incredulous silence.  Wedge
Antilles was the first one to break it.  "Shallnestra ?!?" he said
loudly.  Tank caught the swift change from happiness to furious dismay
on his wife's face, even as the room began to fill with hoots and
snickers from the rebel soldiers and pilots.  "Shallnestra!" someone
said. "That's our Slaughter!"  "Shallnestra, deadly enemy of the
Empire!"  "Another Death Star? Call in Shallnestra!"  Shally's
expression had passed dangerous and was nearing critical. She finally
managed to squeeze out a strangled yell. "Who told !?!"  Luke and Tank
backed off slowly. "I just asked Beesix what your proper names were,"
whispered Luke, "and he told me."  "I think it's kind of a pretty
name, myself," said Tank.  "You know," said Luke, "I was jealous a
minute ago, wishing it was me up there with Leia, but now I'm not so
sure."  "Thanks Luke," said Tank, eyeing his wife as she went after
Wedge. "Thanks a lot."

* * *

One wedding guest remained seated after the rest had left, some of
them limping. General Cracken regarded Tank and Shally seriously. He
brushed his graying hair away from his lined face and quietly said,
"Well, you two, I hate to remind you about the mission briefing, but
as a rule, the Empire doesn't give us much time for celebrating. Shall
we get down to business?"  Tank looked up from where he was tending to
a few of his wife's bruises and nodded reluctantly. "Leave it to you
to get into a brawl at your own wedding," he said to Shally as she
stood, wincing.  "Those people insulted me," she insisted. "You should
have been there defending me."  "It was just your name," protested
Tank.  "You know I hate my name," she replied sullenly.  "Besides, it
was the way they said it."  "All right, all right," prompted Tank. "We
have a mission briefing to go over now, and this is one we might not
come back from."  She took him by the shoulders. "I know. But at least
I'll know I was married to you," she said softly, leaning down to kiss
him gently.  They joined General Cracken by the large tactical
holodisplay center across the room. He activated it, and the image of
a planet shimmered into view in the air above the powerful computer.
"The Mon Calamari need our help, if they are going to help us," the
General began. "As you may know, the Empire attempted to take
possession of Calamari when they first discovered it, but the
inhabitants rose up and drove them off. They were an artistic,
peaceful people, but the Empire taught them war. They intend to see to
it that the Empire regrets doing so." Cracken began entering
information from a datapad file into the holodisplay computer. "The
situation reminds me of my own homeworld of Contruum. The Empire
invaded us, too, and my people turned to guerrilla warfare, hiding in
the mountains. We resisted the Imperials for years, until finally, it
was too costly for the Empire to stay. Sadly, there are no mountains
to hide in on Calamari. If the Empire launched a full scale attack on
their world, the Mon Calamari could survive in the deep oceans, but
their surface cities and their space going civilization would be
destroyed. Now, because they're in open rebellion, they will
eventually suffer such an attack.  The Emperor hasn't gotten around to
it because he sees the need to use his forces elsewhere. The growing
rebellion has created that need, and the Mon Calamari know it. They
see their only chance of long term survival in joining us and helping
us to try to win the war. The Emperor, in his disdain for non humans,
doesn't care if they join us or not, but that is because he does not
yet realize what the Mon Calamari can give us - Star Cruisers that can
match Imperial Star Destroyers in battle."  "He'll never allow that to
happen," Shally protested.  "The first of the new ships are already
under construction," said Cracken with a grim little smile. "The Mon
Calamari outmaneuvered the Empire by building cruisers out of
converted deep space explorer ships, and used them to fight off the
Imperials. The Alliance moved in right away and set up an orbital
shipyards, protected by Golan III defense stations." Cracken made six
blue spheres appear next to the holoimage of Calamari, representing
the Golan stations surrounding the shipyards.  "Currently, there are
three brand new cruisers under construction, powerful enough to serve
us in a fleet to fleet confrontation. Admiral Ackbar wants one of them
to be the Alliance flagship." Three elongated orange shapes appeared
above the computer, within the space protected by the defense
stations.  "The Imperials have responded by setting up a blockade,
consisting of five Interdictor cruisers and a Victory II class Star
Destroyer." Six red wedge shapes appeared in the hologram, pointed at
the shipyards that floated between them and the planet.  "The Mon
Calamari system is crowded, and there is only one window for a fast
hyperspace escape. That window is here." He touched a control, and a
pale green cylinder extended away from the planet. Contained within it
were the shipyards, the Mon Cal cruisers, and the Imperial ships.
"The situation as it exists now is a stand-off. The shipyards are too
heavily defended for the Imperial forces to attack without risking
great losses. On the other hand, the cruisers can't leave the
shipyards and the protection of the defense platforms without risking
destruction themselves. If they did, it would be a ship to ship
battle, six against three, with the outcome uncertain. Frankly, we
can't afford to lose those cruisers the moment they're finished, so we
can't risk it. The Interdictors are blocking any chance of hyperspace
escape with their gravity well projectors. So, as I said, a
stand-off. But sooner or later, an Imperial strike fleet will be
spared by the Emperor to come and erase the Mon Calamari
annoyance. It's a stand-off we can't win. That's where you come in."
Tank and Shally looked at each other, sharing determination and
support.  "We need you to infiltrate the Victory Star Destroyer as
part of a supply ship crew," said Cracken. "Once inside, you'll take
your astromech droid and slice into their main computer. The droid has
been equipped with the latest programs for that purpose. You'll have
to sabotage their weapons systems in a way they won't detect until
it's too late. I have faith in you both. You've proven your bravery at
Yavin and your infiltration skill at Belderone. I want you to know
that, as dangerous as this sounds, you can do it. I also want you to
know you're not alone. Five other teams will be going aboard the
Interdictor cruisers on similar missions. I won't tell you who they
are, in case you get captured, but with any luck, all the missions
will succeed, and you'll be able to get out safely. With the blockade
neutralized, we can remove the Star Cruisers before more Imperial
ships arrive.  Full information on the mission is included in your
briefing materials. Technical information concerning Victory II Star
Destroyers is included, and has been loaded into your R2 unit. A ship
has been prepared to smuggle you to one of the supply points feeding
into the blockade, and identification has been created for you as
well. Intelligence has done its usual amazing job, rest assured. Any
other questions I can answer, Tank...Slaughter?"  Tank raised his
hand. "Just one, boss. When we get back, how about a honeymoon for us
on the Kuari Princess?"

* * *

Commander Romodi stood at attention in the docking bay of the Victory
II Star Destroyer Guardian, watching as an Imperial shuttle carried
his new superiors into his life. He followed the stately progress of
the craft as it drifted down on its repulsors to settle on the
gleaming deck, feeling a mixture of resentment and fear.  The
resentment stemmed from how far his career had fallen. Just three
years ago, Romodi had been an Admiral. It had been the summit of his
long climb, his greatest satisfaction. He had survived against long
odds to reach it, and he had deep scars on his face to prove it. On
the far side of middle age, he had expected to end his career in
honor.  That was before he became a strong supporter of project Death
Star at the urging of his close personal friend, Willhuf Tarkin. At
the time, Romodi had felt the threat of the rebellion to be
minimal. He believed it would continue only as long as the cowards had
a sanctuary to retreat to, and he said as much to Tarkin, Motti, and
Tagge during a meeting on the completed Death Star. Romodi thought the
battle station would deprive the rebels of their hiding places, and
thus end the rebellion. He had left the station before it traveled to
Yavin. Thus, he wasn't on the Death Star when it was destroyed, but he
hadn't escaped all the damage done by that fateful explosion. The
Emperor had been furious, and had ravaged the military command
structure in his need for scapegoats. Romodi had been punished for his
association with the project by demotion, in a personal meeting with
the Emperor himself. That meeting was what Romodi's fear stemmed from.
He had never before come face to face with Palpatine. After all, the
Empire was huge, and the Emperor was very reclusive, relying on Sate
Pestage and Ars Dangor to communicate for him. So he was unprepared
for what he found. Romodi had met Darth Vader already, and unlike
General Tagge, he found the Dark Lord's 'sorcerer's ways' to be
frightening. But, like many others, Romodi had believed Vader to be an
aberration, a curiosity, a unique, if dangerous relic of the past. He
assumed the Emperor had been lucky to find such an unusual and
powerful servant.  But when Romodi came before Palpatine, he was
forced to conclude that the Emperor had, in fact, created Lord Vader.
He sensed, for the first time, the power of darkness lurking within
that shadowy hood. He realized that the Force was no dying religion,
but the center of Imperial power.  The Emperor had listened to
Romodi's politely phrased argument as to why he bore no direct
responsibility for the loss of the Death Star, then he had raised one
hand slightly from the arm of his throne. A sudden bolt of energy had
leaped from his fingers and struck Romodi, filling him with the
horrifying sensation of his life being drained away.  It had stopped
quickly, but Romodi had cowered where he had fallen.  "You are now
Commander Romodi," the Emperor had said quietly, then left the
terrified man alone on the floor.  Now, three years later, Romodi had
not told anyone of his experience. The Emperor must have known that he
could not. The fear, born on that day, remained locked within him.
His assignment to the Calamari blockade had seemed at first like an
undesirable, low-prestige posting designed to perpetuate his
punishment. If only that had been the worst of it. Standing watch over
an insignificant non human shipyards was bad enough, but in addition,
Romodi's ordeal with the Force was coming back to haunt him. His new
superiors were of Vader and Palpatine's kind - Sith adepts out of
legend.  As the shuttle ramp lowered, and Lord Flint and Lady Lumiya
came into view, Romodi's worst fears were realized. These were indeed
the children of Darth Vader.  Like Vader, Lord Flint was completely
armored and helmeted, with a flowing midnight blue cape. The shiny
plate armor was styled like something out of an old tale, but modern
control panels and electronics were located at Flint's belt and on his
gauntlets. Lumiya, too, was covered in metallic surfaces, but they
were too form-fitting to be armor.  Romodi realized she was a cyborg,
and wondered how much of her was human besides her glaring eyes.  The
Sith walked purposefully up to Romodi, and Flint removed his mirrored
helmet. The well-groomed face beneath gave an impression of somber
strength, easing Romodi's fears a fraction. Here was a man who could
be reasoned with, he decided. One glance at Lumiya's focused, angry
stare, however, told Romodi that she was quite the opposite.
"Commander Romodi," said Flint in a deep, rough voice, "we're here on
behalf of Lord Vader to take command of the blockade. You can show us
to the bridge, and then, our quarters."  "Yes, my Lord," said
Romodi. "Welcome aboard."  He turned and bowed slightly to Lumiya. "My
Lady."  "Your pleasantries are not welcome, Commander," Lumiya
snapped, her voice filtered through the angular mask covering her
nose, mouth, and forehead. "We're here to do an important job. All I
need from you is your cooperation. If you can give me that, I won't
have to hurt you." She gestured with one smooth metallic hand at the
stars beyond the magnetic field. "As I understand it, the rebels are
building warships out there, and this blockade is designed to prevent
those ships from escaping. A stand-off, Commander, is not the goal I
have in mind. We're going to find a way to destroy those ships, using
the resources we already have."  Lumiya's eyes narrowed in
concentration, and without warning, miniature rebel cruisers shimmered
into being in the air above her. She unhooked her light whip and let
its coils unroll, then flicked on the activation stud.  Searing
tendrils of energy coursed out along the coils, and she struck high
and fast with them, slashing through the images of the cruisers. All
three rebel ships broke apart in bright little fireballs, scattering
flaming wreckage that winked out of existence before it touched the
polished deck.  "That's what we're going to do to the rebels and their
Mon Calamari allies," said Lumiya, deactivating her light whip and
coiling it up efficiently. Then she strode off towards the turbolift,
expecting the two men to follow her immediately.  "She takes a little
getting used to," said Flint, as Romodi swallowed dryly.

* * *

"You certainly went out of your way to intimidate the Commander,"
accused Flint as he relaxed in Lumiya's quarters. "He was already very
much afraid of us, even without such a display."  "He needed to be
reminded of his purpose," she replied sternly. "He's weak, like
everyone else on this ship.  They think this duty is boring and
unimportant.  Unimportant! Any blow that can be struck against the
rebels is important. A success here could gain us the Emperor's
favor. Maybe he would let me go after Luke Skywalker, even if Lord
Vader won't."  "You still want to go against our Master's wishes?"
asked Flint incredulously. "I heard you promise him you would leave
Skywalker alone-" "What was I supposed to do, with him threatening me
like that? I can't let go of my hatred that easily. I owe Luke
Skywalker a great deal for giving me this...this existence in place of
my life. Our Master can have what's left of him when I finish paying
him back."  "Lumiya," Flint cautioned her, "this is a delicate time
for us. We have power now, you and I, but it could be taken away by
Lord Vader or his Master, the Emperor. We have to be very careful not
to attract the wrong kind of attention.  Let's take things one at a
time. Right now, our mission is to turn this blockade into a military
victory."  "You're right," said Lumiya after a few moments.
"Skywalker can wait. I don't want to lose my chance at him by moving
too fast. And winning here does matter to me.  We can't let the rebels
have those Capital ships. I've lived with the Alliance. I know what
kind of impossible things they could do if they got their hands on
them." She leaned gracefully against the wall. "Right now, I'm
tired...too tired to plan any strategies." She reached behind her
helmet and unfastened it, removing it wearily.  Flint moved a chair
next to her. He knew that her cyborg systems, strong as they made her,
also exerted a great deal of stress on Lumiya's organic parts. The
strain was evident on her face, and as Flint looked there, his eyes
were drawn to the mass of scar tissue that marred the left side of her
face and forehead. It was normally concealed by her mask, and Flint
strongly suspected it was the reason she wore one. As was the case
with Romodi, some scars were just too deep to heal completely.  Lumiya
sank gratefully into the chair, leaving Flint standing next to her. He
watched her for a minute as she brooded, then hesitantly reached out a
gauntleted hand to brush her long red hair away from her
scars. "Lumiya," he said tentatively, "I've told you before that I
feel a connection to you. It goes beyond being Sith adepts together. I
feel something for you...these scars...they don't take away the rest
of your beauty." Her felt her stiffen, and he tensed, removing his
hand. She looked directly into his eyes, and he felt cold inside.
"Don't do this, Flint. You have no hope with me.  You don't know who I
am. You think you're interested in Shira Brie, but you've forgotten,
she's dead. Lumiya can't be close to anyone."  "I'm talking about my
feelings for you," Flint said.  "I never knew Shira Brie. I know who
you are, Lumiya."  She stood up, facing him eye to eye. "I'll have to
show you how wrong you are," she said flatly. Placing one slim hand on
Flint's armored chest, Lumiya shoved.  Unprepared for her cyborg
strength, he staggered and collapsed on his back. Lumiya stood over
him, looking down with a scowl.  "This body has nothing to give you
but pain," she said. "It's a mockery of life. You think you see a
beautiful woman, but she's not real. I made them make me look this way
so everyone could see what I'd lost. I'm only half a woman, kept alive
by a machine!" She slapped the gleaming metal of her breast with her
artificial hand, producing a sharp ringing sound. "I only want to have
to tell you this once, Flint. I can never be what you need me to
be. I've known how you felt about me for a long time. Shira could have
returned those feelings, but I can't. You have no hope with me."  She
walked away, and Flint got up slowly. He stared at her rigid back for
a minute, then turned to leave. "Then I'm sorry," he said without
anger. "I wish it could have been different."  Flint went out, not
seeing the tear that rolled over Lumiya's scars and past her gritted
teeth.

* * *

Shally hadn't been this scared since the Battle of Yavin. She was
surrounded by the power of the Empire. It gleamed from the polished
decks of the Star Destroyer Guardian, marched in step with its naval
troopers and Stormtroopers, and hummed within the contained energies
of its turbolaser arsenal. At any moment, should their subterfuge
fail, she and Tank would be overwhelmed by that power. This deep
inside enemy lines, they wouldn't have a chance. But she didn't regret
being there. As their supply ship had been tractored towards the
Guardian's hangar bays, her eyes had been full of the distant sight of
the Mon Calamari shipyards and the tiny, vulnerable points of light
that had to be the desperately needed MC-80 cruisers. They had to be
safeguarded. The conviction of her mission enabled Shally to live with
her fear, but that fear was still considerable.  More than anything
else, she feared losing Tank. She had come to love him so much that it
was hard to go on these missions and face that risk. She was afraid to
be alone again, and perhaps no Alliance victory was worth that to
her. The past three years had been a struggle to put her painful past
behind her. Tank's companionship had been both guiding and healing to
her. When they had been just Y-wing pilot and gunner together, somehow
that had seemed less dangerous than the intelligence missions they had
begun to undertake for General Cracken. Usually, she tried not to
think of the danger, but when they had heard about this mission, that
had become impossible. So she did the only thing she could. She asked
Tank to marry her, so that if this was their last time together, at
least she would have given as much of herself to him as possible. And,
if by some miracle they survived, she knew he would make a great
husband for life. If they made it...  Tank must have been hiding his
fear as well. She glanced at him across the huge repulsor cart they
were guiding and was rewarded by a quick smile. They were both wearing
the gray coverall uniforms of the Support Fleet's Supply Division, and
they were guiding the floating platform, piled high with boxes, down
narrow corridors towards the Crew Living Section. Such was the width
of the cart that they had to squeeze past one annoyed officer after
another. Despite the fact that they were bringing needed supplies,
none of the crew liked to be in close contact with manual laborers of
obviously lower intelligence. Beesix rode quietly at the back of the
cart, patched into the simple control panel. Tank and Shally made a
show of confusedly consulting datapad corridor maps, griping at the
complicated ship's layout, and arguing over which way to go next.
Just as one particularly disgruntled Star Destroyer Trooper was trying
to squeeze past the cart, the ponderous vehicle lurched, bumped the
wall, and lost the repulsors along one side. One corner slammed onto
the deck as the entire contents of the cart slid and tumbled off,
clogging the corridor. The Trooper backed off, cursing and stumbling,
as Tank and Shally stood frozen, aghast.  "What do you think you're
doing?!" shouted the Trooper.  "Oh no!" stammered Shally. "This is
such a mess!  Some of this stuff needs to be refrigerated, too, or
it'll spoil.  I'm so sorry! Ohhhhh - how are we going to get this back
on the cart?"  "The blasted cart is the problem!" Tank broke in
angrily. "The lousy equipment they give us - no wonder these things
happen. I say we go back to our ship and let our boss handle this. I
told him this floater needed repairs, and he ignored me. Let him clean
it up."  "No - we can't just leave," Shally protested, "We'll get in
trouble. We have to call for maintenance or something - maybe they can
fix it..." She bent and struggled ineffectually with one of the heavy
boxes. "Ohhhhh," she groaned. "I don't want to get fired. I need this
job." She turned to the disgusted Trooper. "Can you find us some help?
Please? Maybe we can get this fixed and deliver these supplies and not
have to tell our boss about this at all..." She looked hopefully at
him.  The Trooper glared at the blocked corridor. "Wait here," he
commanded in a clipped tone, and turned on his heel. As he walked
briskly away, he could be heard speaking in his comlink. "Deck 37,
Corridor 155 is closed until further notice. Reroute all foot traffic
to corridors 154 and 156."  The moment the Trooper was out of sight,
Tank and Shally were all business. "All right Beesix," snapped Tank.
"Get down from there and tell us which room in this hallway has the
computer terminal."  "Gladly," piped up Beesix from behind the pile of
boxes. "I was made for bravely piloting a Starfighter in battle, not
for driving a stupid, ungainly binary load lifter."  "Yeah, well
you're going to be just as dead as you'd be in a battle if you don't
hurry up!" Tank said, shoving boxes aside. They lifted the droid into
the clear, and the indignant Artoo unit rolled directly to one of the
heavy blast doors.  "Locked," Shally said, pounding once on the door.
"Tank, how are we going to get inside?"  "No problem," said Tank
snappily, reaching into his coverall pockets. He produced a dozen key
cards, of a variety of colors and patterns.  "How did-" Shally began,
then she grinned. "All those people you bumped into along the way."
"Old habits die hard," said Tank, hurriedly shoving cards into the
slot.  "Are you referring to your past as a miscreant and a street
thief?" accused Beesix. "Frankly Mistress, I find your taste in life
companions to be somewhat morally ambiguous.  A childhood spent on the
wrong side of the law cannot be overcome so easily. Why, the first
time I met Tank Boma, he stole your ship with me inside it!"  Tank
clapped his hands once in satisfaction as the door suddenly slid up
and open. "You want to stay out in the corridor and debate morals with
yourself," he said, leaning over Beesix, "that's fine with me."  The
droid sped into the room after Tank and Shally, not saying another
word. The blast door hissed shut behind him, and he rolled over to the
terminal. Beesix extended his information retrieval arm and plugged
into the Imperial equipment.  Shally leaned over the small terminal
screen. The exhilaration of their deception had quickly faded away,
leaving only worry and tension. She forced herself to stay calm and
focus only on her task. "Okay, we're going to slice into the network,
starting with a real entry code - the one we picked up back on the
supply ship." Numbers and letters began to scroll rapidly across the
screen. "That's it. We're into the data files on inventory. All right,
Beesix, here's where your Intellex IV computer comes in. I need you to
find me the entry codes for connected systems until we get into the
Gunnery Computer. And you have to do it fast enough not to trigger a
system alert."  "You can rely on me, Mistress Shallnestra," said
Beesix.  Shally shot Beesix a dark look, but didn't correct him. "From
Supply Inventory, we need to link to Personnel, Shifts, and then Duty
Stations."  The droid's interface arm twisted in the socket, and the
display screen came alive with numbers. The flow of data was too fast
for Tank to follow, and he passed tense seconds watching the closed
blast door. How long did they have? The Trooper would bring others to
the disabled floater, but they wouldn't immediately check the rooms
nearby, assuming the inept laborers had gone back to the hangar and
their ship.  "Great," said Shally, "we're in. Now go to the subshell
on Gunnery Personnel files, and access Gunnery Computer passwords."  A
minute passed, and Shally began to look worried.  "Beesix, hurry it
up! If you take too long, the system will be alerted to your presence,
and then we've had it."  "This system is rather large and cumbersome,
Mistress. I am working to the best of my abilities - wait -
there. That was a very devious bit of code. But I am now able to
access the Gunnery Computer."  "Okay, Tank, this is where you come
in," said Shally.  "Right, we have to get into the Sensor / Firing
Parameters program. Then I can input a new parameter linking the
Firing computers to the gravity well proximity sensors. If the Star
Destroyer comes in close to the shipyards to attack, their guns will
just shut down from Calamari's gravity well, and they won't know it
until it's too late. We send the finished ships planetward, the
Imperials chase them, and that's it. Good-bye Star Destroyer."
"Accessing that program will require a separate password," said
Beesix. "I'm computing it now...Oh no!  They're doing a periodic entry
code change on the Firing computers. I'll have to wait for them to
finish before I can get in all the way."  "How long will that take?"
demanded Shally.  "I don't know Mistress! I can't get fully in, and I
can't get out either."  "Then the system's going to detect him any
second!"  cried Shally, fear rising in her throat. Suddenly, the
display screen blanked out and the terminal shut down.  "I've got a
bad feeling about this," said Tank.  Shally crossed to the blast
door. "It's locked!" she shouted, beating her fist uselessly against
it. "We're trapped here!"  "Zurnt!" grunted Beesix. "We were so
Zarking close! Why the Flarrsh did this have to happen now?!"  Shally
stared at the little green droid in shock.  "It's a cursing module,"
Tank explained. "It came with his new voice box. It sort of takes over
in times of heavy stress."  "Well, this certainly qualifies," Shally
groaned. "All right. Let's not give up yet. We need a story for when
they get here."  "I don't think we can con these guys," said Tank.
"All we can do is wait." He put his arms around Shally.  They didn't
wait for long. Within minutes, the blast door opened, revealing an
older, scarred Imperial Commander, and a squad of
Stormtroopers. Blaster rifles were leveled at the rebels.  "Oh,
thanks," said Shally, "we came in here looking for a broom to clean up
that mess outside, and the door locked behind us."  Tank gave her a
look only slightly less disbelieving than the grim Commander's.  "I
had to try," she said, gripping Tank's hand as her fears became
reality all around her.

* * *

Flint and Lumiya stood at the end of the command walkway on the
Guardian=D5s bridge, looking out the main viewport at the distant
rebel shipyards. They were engaged in a strategy conference, focused
on their assignment, neither one acknowledging their recent conflict.
"Those Golan stations are the main problem," mused Lumiya. "The Golan
III Nova Gun has heavy shields, fifty turbolasers, twenty four proton
torpedo launchers...each one of them is more heavily armed than this
ship."  "Yes, a frontal assault won=D5t work," said Flint, crossing
his arms. "If they direct all their firepower at us at once...no. But
what if we could divide their arsenal, force them to shoot at a lot
more targets?"  "Illusory ships?" asked Lumiya. The tactic hasn=D5t
been used since the Sith War. They might be taken by surprise,
thinking the Empire has already sent reinforcements..."  "And there is
another Sith power we can use," said Flint. "We can broadcast fear and
despair to the crews of the defense platforms. It might give us the
edge we need."  "We have to think carefully about this," said Lumiya.
"There=D5s a lot at stake for us. If we win, but take heavy casualties
at the same time...it could end up hurting our future, as Lord Vader
warned."  "But we don=D5t have a lot of time," replied Flint. "It=D5s
hard to tell on those lumpy alien ships, but our sensors indicate
they=D5re nearing completion. Then this could turn into a pitched
battle."  "No," said Lumiya. "They don=D5t want that. They-" A comm
signal on her belt interrupted her. "What is it?" she demanded.  "This
is Commander Romodi. We=D5ve captured a couple of rebel saboteurs
trying to damage the main computer. We have them in the detention
area. Do you wish to see them?"  "Rebels!" said Lumiya. "On this ship!
How dare they!"  "It=D5s in their nature to be daring," said Flint,
frowning. "Come, let=D5s see who they=D5ve found."

* * *

The harsh simplicity of Tank=D5s prison cell was more than enough to
remove any traces of bravado or hope. He was alone in a small chamber
with a flat metal bench and no windows. The only sound was a dull
vibration that told him the detention block was located near the rear
engines of the ship. He hadn=D5t seen Shally for hours, and he was
desperately worried for her safety. He knew he might never see her
again, and that was even worse than knowing they had failed their
mission. By the time the cell door opened again, Tank was ready to say
anything that would let him see his wife again.  The person who
entered was in no way what he expected.  "On your feet, rebel,"
commanded Lady Lumiya, stepping over the threshold. Tank wearily
obeyed, gaping at her shapely metallic form. "You know what=D5s going
to happen here, don=D5t you?" Lumiya said. "You are a rebel prisoner
of the Empire, and you were captured in an attempt to sabotage this
ship. I=D5m going to ask you some questions, and you=D5re going to
tell me-" "I=D5m going to tell you whatever you want to know,"
interrupted Tank. "All right, I know the drill. This is just like when
I was picked up by the police when I was a kid in Mos Eisley, except
here you have torture droids. But you won=D5t need them. I just want
to see my wife again. I=D5ll give you any information you want. Only I
don=D5t know a whole lot.  I=D5m not that important in the Alliance."
Lumiya stood for a minute, glaring at Tank. "You seem to have a lot of
confidence for someone in your position," she said finally. "But then,
Tank Boma, you did when I knew you on Kulthis, too."  Tank was
startled. "You know me? Who are you?"  "Why don=D5t you figure it out
for yourself, rebel?"  said Lumiya.  Tank looked hesitantly at the
only visible part of his captor, her eyes. "There=D5s something
familiar...and your voice..." Tank stepped suddenly towards
her. "Shira? Shira Brie? But everyone thinks you=D5re dead!"  Before
he could come any closer, Lumiya swiftly grabbed Tank and tossed him
painfully onto the bench.  Stunned, Tank looked up at her. "It can=D5t
be. You=D5re not Shira."  "No Tank, you were partly right. I was Shira
Brie, but now I=D5m Lady Lumiya. Shira died at the hands of Luke
Skywalker." She paused. "Not so confident now, are you?"  "What
happened to you? What did they do to you?"  Tank stammered. He was
badly shaken by this unexpected reunion, not quite able to accept that
a respected comrade could be his deadly enemy.  "I was always part of
the Empire, Tank. When you knew me, I was in deep cover as an Imperial
Major in Intelligence. And the only thing the Empire did to me was to
save my body when Skywalker nearly destroyed it. He shot me down
before I could kill him, and then they turned me into a cyborg."  Tank
stared at her, losing any thoughts of resisting her physically. He
began to feel a growing fear. "Listen Lumiya," he said, "I meant what
I said before...I=D5ll tell you anything."  "Yes," she said, her eyes
narrowing, "you will.  Starting with your mission here on my ship."
"All right," Tank swallowed. "We came here to try to sabotage the
Gunnery Computer system. We were trying to allow the Calamarian Star
Cruisers to escape the blockade. I know you=D5ll only torture this out
of me, so I=D5ll tell you right now. There are other teams on the
other ships. I don=D5t know who they are, or what their missions
are. They might even be finished by now, and gone. That=D5s all I
know." He paused, slowly standing back up. "I ask that I have a chance
to say good-bye to my wife...before..." He trailed off.  Lumiya
regarded him silently, removing a cylindrical object with attached
metal coils from her belt.  "What are you doing?" Tank asked, his
voice rising.  "I told you everything I know-" "What you have told me
voluntarily" said Lumiya coldly, "is a good beginning. But it=D5s only
a beginning. You and I will have much more to talk about." She let the
coils of her light whip unroll onto the floor. "Before, it was all
just a dangerous game to me, fooling all of you, playing at being a
rebel. Now, it=D5s deadly serious. Now, it=D5s about retribution.
Although I owe a particular debt to Luke for taking my old life away,
that debt is shared in some measure by the entire
rebellion. Especially by rebels from Kulthis." At the touch of a
switch, curling tendrils of energy began to flow down the light
whip. "And the currency I=D5m repaying that debt with...is pain."  She
drew back her metallic arm, and Tank saw a searing cascade of bright
strands arc towards him. Then he took his first steps into a new
universe of agony.

* * *

Lumiya left the cell as a medical droid entered it to tend to the
prisoner. Tank would be healed enough to survive another round of
interrogation. He had indeed been able to supply a good deal more
information, but Lumiya was still not satisfied. Frustratingly, the
rebel seemed to be telling the truth about other rebel missions to the
blockade.  He knew of them, but little else. In any event, a
fleet-wide search was now underway to root out more of the rebels
before they could carry out their brazen schemes. Lumiya was disturbed
by the thought of all those agents. She knew what a hidden
Intelligence operative could do, having been one herself. The
Alliance=D5s reputation for foolhardy Commando missions was now
legendary. After the Death Star disaster, it seemed there was nothing
they might not be capable of. At least she had captured these two
before they could harm the flagship. But she needed to know much more
before she could feel secure.  As she was leaving the detention area,
Lumiya spotted the rebels=D5 droid, sitting off to one side of the
security station, deactivated. She paused. While she and Flint
interrogated the prisoners, could there be something that they were
overlooking? She strode over to the silent R2 unit and contemplated
it. Perhaps there was something more to be learned here, after
all. Lumiya activated her comlink and summoned a technician.

* * *

"Of course, we both know that this interrogation droid is capable of
inflicting a great deal of pain," said Flint
reasonably. "Electroshock, sound waves, heat, and the like.  But I'd
prefer to avoid all that. The interrogation drug I've injected into
you should help you to answer all of my questions without pain. It
doesn't take long to start working."  Shally lay slumped on the metal
ledge as the drugs coursed through her system, infusing her with a
vast lethargy and weakness. "What have they done to Tank?" she
mumbled.  "Don't be concerned for him right now. He is still alive for
the present, answering questions like you are.  Now, let's start with
your name."  "Shally Edrin...just got married...Shally Boma," she
said, her words slurring. She peered at Flint as if through a
fog. "What are you...some kind of Knight?"  "I created this armor from
an ancient drawing," he replied patiently, "but not one you would ever
have seen.  So, Shally, what was your exact goal in slicing into our
computers?"  "We had to...fix it so the firing computer would shut
down...close to Calamari gravity well," she said slowly.  "I see,"
said Flint. "So we would be unable to attack the shipyards, is that
it?"  "Yes."  "And were you responsible for designing this strategy?"
"Yes."  "You must be a valued member of the rebellion, Shally, with
skills like those. Let's discuss your fellow rebels and superiors back
at your base. I'd like to know who they are."  "Base...evacuated," she
murmured, leaning her head on the cold wall.  "And where was the base
before it was evacuated?"  asked Flint.  "Kulthis...Belderone system."
Flint's calm was ripped from him. "Belderone? You served in the
Belderone system? What...what were your duties there?"  Unable to see
his agitation, Shally continued, "Tank and I served in Field
Operations... Alliance Intelligence...we found a factory on
Belderone...making Walkers. Helped plan attack but somehow..." Her
eyes fluttered and she groaned.  "The attack on the factory," pressed
Flint, shaking her shoulders.  "They knew...we were coming. Super Star
Destroyer showed up in system...Commander Skywalker said...looking for
him. Poor Luke..." She gave a little choking cry. "He was...hero at
Yavin. Now they want to make him pay..."  She slipped into
unconsciousness from too high a dosage, but Flint didn't notice. He
was turned completely inward, his thoughts racing. The rebel attack on
the AT-AT factory had failed because the factory had been forewarned
and able to deploy Walkers in its own defense. The resulting battle
had spilled over into the neighboring village. His village. A fire had
burned down his mother's tavern and claimed her life during the
battle. The battle had gotten out of control because the factory had
been prepared. The rebel attack must have been based on the element of
surprise. And who had alerted the factory? The answer was obvious; the
Commander of the Imperial strike fleet that had been on its way to the
Belderone system, Lord Vader. And Lord Vader had only involved himself
for the chance to capture Luke Skywalker. How had he discovered that
Luke was in the Belderone system? The answer to that question was
obvious to Flint as well, and with the realization, a sickened flush
came over him. The memory returned vividly, and took him away...

...Flint ran recklessly through the marketplace on the outskirts of
town. He felt free on his day off, a rare feeling on an isolated
Imperial factory world where most of the population toiled away for
the sake of a distant Emperor, slaves in all but name. The work was
hard, and he didn't even know exactly what kind of machines he was
making.  Once every two weeks, he was allowed the illusion that he was
a free man. On this day, he had decided to use his spare money to buy
his mother a bright scarf, to cheer her up. She had become a shadow of
her former self, living on Belderone, running a grimy tavern for the
grimy workers in a grimy little village. A long time ago, she had been
happy.  Her husband, Flint's father, had been a Jedi Knight, and they
had been well-to-do. But then, word had come that the Jedi were being
hunted, and Flint's father had left them on backwater Belderone while
he went off to fight. It had been for their safety. They had never
seen him again, and Flint's mother, Zana, had never forgiven her
husband for abandoning them. Eventually, the Empire had come, and
Belderone was no longer a place of safety, if indeed anywhere
was. Zana had slid into a seemingly permanent depression. Flint knew
he couldn't really fix things for her, but he tried to lift her
spirits whenever he could.  Just as he was nearing the clothing shop,
Flint saw another young man walking past, sandy haired, serious, and
wearing nondescript spacers gear. He was almost unnoticeable, save for
one detail. At his belt hung a lightsaber. Flint was almost sure of
it. He had very early memories of his father's weapon. This man was a
Jedi Knight! Excited, Flint abandoned his destination and ran up to
the other man. The other looked startled and quickly searched the
marketplace with anxious eyes. His hand moved to the hilt of the
lightsaber.  Flint hastily tried to calm the stranger. "Hello, I'm
Flint. Listen, you don't know me, but I wanted to talk to you. I
noticed your lightsaber. Don't worry, no one else saw it. You're a
Jedi Knight, right? Listen, my father was a Jedi.  Do you know where
to get training? I think I might have the potential. If I was a Jedi,
I could get my mother and me off this rock. Maybe you could train me?"
The other man's face softened, and he said gently, "Was your father
killed, Flint?"  "Yeah, how did you-" "Because you remind me of
myself. My father was a Jedi, too, and he died a long time ago. But
I'm not one.  There are no more Jedi left. I had a teacher for a
while, but he was killed, too. My father left me this lightsaber as an
heirloom. I'm sorry, Flint. I can't help you."  Flint's heart
sank. "But you do know some things, right? Can't you teach them to
me?"  "I'm no teacher. And I have important things to do here. I
really am sorry." The other man turned from Flint and hurried
away. Flint made no move to stop him. He stood there full of
bitterness, his day off ruined.  During the walk back to Zana's
tavern, Flint's disappointment turned into resentment. When he told
the story to Zana, she echoed his feelings. "I've always tried to tell
you Flint, the Jedi don't care about other people. They look out for
their own, and that's all. Hey, maybe you should see if there's a
reward for turning this man in? Now that the Jedi are outlawed...we
sure could use the money."  Flint had gone straight to the local
Imperial government office and spoke to a bored-looking official.
"Jedi sightings?" the bureaucrat had asked doubtfully. "Well, there is
a law against their order, has been one for a long time. Are you sure
you saw his lightsaber?"  Flint was sure. The official had tiredly
looked in his computer records, no doubt trying to finish with this
dubious case and get back to his real work. Flint was surprised when
the man gave a low whistle. "Maybe you did see something. There's an
Empire-wide notice for the capture of a Luke Skywalker, posted by Lord
Vader himself!  Came up when I cross-referenced the word lightsaber
with the wanted files. This Skywalker is supposed to carry one...Sons
of Jontor! There's a reward of 500,000 credits for him! Perhaps your
sighting should be brought to the attention of someone higher
up. Hmm. Better make sure. I'll call up some images, and you pick out
the man you saw."  Flint easily identified Luke Skywalker.  "All
right, all right..." the official said nervously.  "Look, there could
be a lot of money in this for both of us, if we keep this between you
and I. I can transmit the sighting directly to Lord Vader's
fleet. I'll list both of us as the finders. There's enough of a reward
to make us both rich.  Do we have a deal?"  "We have a deal," said
Flint, smiling. Let that arrogant Jedi have what was coming to
him. And let the reward for turning in a criminal go to Flint and his
mother, so they could have the better life they deserved. His good
mood was coming back, after all...

...Lord Flint of the Sith stood in the cell with an unconscious Shally
Boma, focusing on the present once more. He felt just as tortured as
the rebel before him. He himself had set in motion the events that led
to the destruction of his village and the death of his mother. Full of
petty resentment, he had naively summoned the raging Civil War to his
very doorstep. He had not imagined the terrifying power of Vader's
forces, nor predicted the ferocity with which the rebels fought
against it. Once begun, events had spiraled out of control at a
mortifying rate. The ground battle had been beyond anything Flint had
experienced before. The rebel fighters had been brave, but unprepared
for the huge armored Walkers. Could they really be blamed if their
desperate retreat had taken them over Flint's village? Was it really
the fault of the Alliance that the Walkers pursued them, crushing
buildings and starting fires all through town? The more Flint thought
about it, the more he found only one person to blame.  Himself.  And
there was one final fact to face, he realized. The events that he had
set in motion had also led to the forced evacuation of the rebel base
on Kulthis, and the 'death' of Shira Brie. He was responsible for the
creation of the tortured Lumiya.  Now that Flint was unable to blame
the rebels, he found himself facing complex issues of personal
responsibility for his and Lumiya's future. He needed time to meditate
on these matters, but the sudden opening of the cell door seemed to
steal away any chance for that.  "Are you finished here?" asked Lumiya
impatiently.  "For the present," Flint replied, not looking at her.
"There was an overdose. She'll recover in several hours, perhaps, but
for now..."  "Then come with me. I've learned something very
important. It's time to make a battle plan. The Calamari shipyards are
ours for the taking." Lumiya seemed afire with purpose.  Flint didn't
move right away. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. Despite the
questions swirling through his mind, the fact remained that they had
to neutralize the threat of the Emperor. He must see the Sith as his
servants, not as something to be destroyed. Flint turned and followed
Lumiya out of the cell, leaving Shally slumped motionless in the
corner.

* * *

By the Five Fire Rings of Fornax, thought Commander Romodi, the rebels
have a lot of guts trying to pull off a bluff of this magnitude! Their
formidable defenses had an enormous weak spot that he hadn't even
suspected.  But Lady Lumiya had discovered it by chance while sifting
through the memory systems of the captured R2 unit. Now the shipyards
would fall.  It was poetic justice, in a way. Information hidden in an
R2 unit had led to the destruction of both the Death Star and
Romodi=D5s career. Now such information would allow Romodi a measure
of payback. For the critical piece of data was this : the rebels were
critically short of personnel, and lacked the necessary 880 people to
fully man each of the Golan III battle stations. The rebel R2 unit had
recently been used for repairs on the stations, and the memory records
of that assignment strongly indicated that half of the stations were
almost entirely automated. This made all the difference.  An automated
station was no match for a skilled human crew, and was also more
vulnerable to ion cannon attacks.  Furthermore, the droid=D5s records
indirectly revealed which of the stations were automated. Repairs on
those Golan III=D5s involved a great many more operations that were
carried out by the droid independently. It turned out that the three
stations closest to the planet were automated. This made sense; the
blockade had been arrayed on the other side of the shipyards. And,
there was the interrupted sabotage mission that would have left the
Guardian helpless close to the planet. It was a clever way to
compensate for the weakness in the shipyards=D5 defenses, but now the
secret was out. The Imperials could attack and easily overwhelm the
automated stations, then fly in and destroy the cruisers.  Flint and
Lumiya had a plan to neutralize the other three stations as well; an
illusory attack of several Imperial Star Destroyers would fully occupy
them. In addition, they would confuse all the rebel gunners by
broadcasting fear into their minds. Commander Romodi smiled. His new
allies made him nervous, but they certainly knew how to take care of a
rebel problem.  He faced the main viewport, and spoke loudly to the
bridge crew in the pits to either side. "Start main engines.  Advance
on the rebel position." The huge engines of the Guardian roared to
life as it began to move massively against the starfield. The five
companion Interdictor cruisers took up formation surrounding it in a
rough circle, and the former blockade fleet went swiftly and fiercely
on the offensive.  Romodi felt alive for the first time in years. He
hadn=D5t faced battle for a long time; his duties in the Admiralty had
taken him far from the shriek of turbolasers and the roar of proton
torpedoes. Perhaps his demotion hadn=D5t been an entirely negative
thing.  As the shipyards began to grow in the viewport, Romodi turned
back to look into the Aft Bridge. Flint and Lumiya were there,
kneeling motionless on the deck. Flint was completely armored and
helmeted, and Lumiya=D5s fierce eyes were tightly closed. Every crew
member gave them a wide berth as they passed by. The Sith were deep in
a potent communion with the Force.  At Romodi=D5s command, the fleet
swung gracefully around the shipyards as one unit, keeping out of
firing range of the Golan stations. Soon, the enormous water world of
Calamari filled the viewport. Flickers of pseudomotion filled the
space recently vacated by the Imperial ships. Despite being
forewarned, several of those in the Crew Pit cried out in surprise as
their scanners showed eight Imperial class Star Destroyers emerging
from hyperspace facing the rebel shipyards. Romodi spared an admiring
glance at the Sith.  "Turn the fleet," he ordered. "Prepare to attack
the automated Golan Stations. Launch TIE fighters. All ships, attack!"
Two TIE squadrons streamed out of the Guardian=D5s launch bays,
forming an angry cloud around the point of the wedge-shaped Star
Destroyer. Then the entire attack force shot forward and ran full
against the rebel defenses.  In the chaos of battle that followed,
Romodi=D5s experienced mind was able to pick out critical details. He
could see that the firing patterns of the Golan stations matched those
expected for a computer controlled attack.  Gratified that their
analysis had been correct, Romodi turned to the Crew Pit. "The
stations are automated as we predicted," he said crisply. "Prepare to
fire all ion cannons at their central computer housing. Fire!"  Pulses
of ion energy leaped away from the Guardian and struck a critical
section of the nearest station. This was the location of the computer
that fire-linked the turbolasers in the absence of live gunners. Had
the station been manned, the damage could have easily been overcome by
using manual controls, but not so here. As the Interdictor cruisers
continued to hammer away at the other two sluggish and imprecise
automated stations, Romodi watched with pleasure as the first
station=D5s enormous arsenal fell into an ineffective random firing
pattern. Now it could do damage to them only by chance.  Romodi peered
through a cloud of explosions and darting TIE fighters at the far
distant side of the shipyards.  The Golan stations there were firing
steadily at the impressive illusory force that threatened them. There
were even illusory explosions simulating damage to the Star
Destroyers. The illusions could do no real damage to the Golan
stations, but between the firepower of a TIE squadron left behind in
that location, and the fear being broadcast by the Sith, their crews
should feel as if the threat was real. It seemed to be working
perfectly, as none of those stations were firing in the Guardian=D5s
direction.  Soon, the second automated station was disabled, and the
blockade fleet roared through the gaping void in the shipyards
defenses. "We=D5re through!" he cried. "All ships, move up to attack
the Mon Calamari shipyards. Target the rebel Star Cruisers under
construction. All guns fire on my command!"  There ahead, floating in
the void of space, he saw them. A vast orbital scaffold had been
constructed, and nestled within kilometers of support beams and access
tunnels were three gigantic elongated hulls. Each one was unique in
appearance, covered with pods and bulges that contained sensors,
weapons batteries, and shield generators.  But most of those systems
would be unfinished. This would be a total victory for Romodi. In his
moment of triumph, he even dared to hope that his career might be
revitalized through the grudging admiration of the Emperor.  Leave it
to the rebels to rely on ships that look like Drexellian Sea
Cucumbers, he thought to himself. Then, relishing the moment, he
loudly said, "Ready...Fire!"  The blockade fleet spread out to
surround the rebel cruisers. Then they released a punishing barrage of
weaponry at the vulnerable targets. Bursts from quad lasers shot from
the interdictor cruisers, and the Guardian unleashed its turbolasers.
"Commander," called a voice from the Crew Pit.  "I=D5m getting strange
readings from the rebel cruisers. They seem unusually dense, Sir."
"What?" snapped Romodi, not wanting to take his eyes from the main
viewport.  "Ships that size should register as mostly empty space
inside, especially when they=D5re under construction.  My sensors show
all that space as full. It=D5s as if they=D5re packed with some dense
substance-" That got through to Romodi. He jumped down into the Crew
Pit and quickly verified the readings. A sudden deadening sensation
began to spread outwards from his heart. Facing the viewport and its
image of the burning, fragmented rebel cruisers, he suddenly saw it as
a scene of horror. "All ships, fall back!" he screamed. "It=D5s a
trap!"  But it was too late. Far too much planning had gone into the
elaborate snare for its victims to win free now. As the first rebel
cruiser began to split apart, it erupted like a supernova, its
enormous cargo of explosives transformed into unimaginable force in an
instant. The other two cruisers exploded a moment later, creating a
triple starburst of expanding light in the middle of the shipyards.
The scaffolding was consumed in the first second, and then the energy
waves hit the blockade fleet. The smaller, more weakly shielded
Interdictor cruisers fared the worst, buckling and tearing apart into
billowing clouds of burning ship fragments. TIE fighters were seared
out of space in an instant, snuffed against the blossoming eruption
filling the former shipyards. The Guardian=D5s shields held for a few
more moments, but the ship was sent tumbling away like a leaf in the
wind. Romodi had time, in his final moments, to grasp the ease with
which they had been fooled. His respect for the rebels went up a
grudging notch for their incredible strategy. Perhaps the rebellion
would not be as fleeting as he had once thought.  Then the shields
failed, and the main bridge was broken open to space.

Far below, the endless ocean surface of Calamari began to heave. Vast
objects were rising from the depths, creating a great surge of water
ahead of them. With a glorious tidal burst, they emerged from the
waves and began to rise into the sky, shedding huge waterfalls from
their surfaces. With a sudden roar of sublight engines, the three Mon
Calamari War Ships thrust away from the churning, boiling sea and
climbed for space.  They passed the conflagration of the false
shipyards, unmolested by Imperial fire. No Interdictor cruisers
remained to prevent their jump to hyperspace. The rebel cruisers
gracefully swept past the remaining Golan stations, which now floated
alone in space, abandoned by the strange Star Destroyers that had
suddenly winked out of existence.  Then they began to dwindle against
the starry heavens, climbing away like rising stars in the night. With
a triple flash, they shot into hyperspace and vanished.

Flint and Lumiya sensed the coming explosion moments before it
happened, as a disturbance in the Force.  They struggled out of their
meditative states and staggered to their feet as the main viewport lit
up with a blinding flare and the deck tilted under them. When the
vacuum of space shrieked in upon them, pulling the bridge crew out
into the midst of the energy storm, Lumiya was able to grasp the wall
next to the turbolift with her machine strength, holding Flint to her
with her other arm. She nearly lost her grip on Flint when a terrified
crew member swept past and smashed into the armored Sith, but her
cyborg body prevailed. Flint=D5s armor was environmentally sealed, and
Lumiya=D5s mask allowed her to breath for the moments it took her to
force open the turbolift doors and heave both of them inside.  Within
the temporary safety of the lift, they descended to a lower deck of
the Command Section. The turbolift dropped unsteadily, as power
fluctuated and the artificial gravity began to weaken. Lumiya braced
herself and fought for balance. The fire and vacuum of the bridge
still filled Lumiya's senses and strongly reminded her of the death of
Shira Brie. That had been a terrible experience. One moment, she had
been lining up her targeting computer on Skywalker's TIE fighter,
filled with a sense of triumph. The next, her world had exploded,
shattering her body with her ship. She had felt herself die, as her
torso was pierced by large shards of her viewport and her legs were
crushed by the collapsing hull. After a few moments of indescribable
pain, darkness had taken her, but that hadn't been the end.  Even as
her mind surrendered, her bio-augmented body refused to give up. It
imprisoned her soul during its long, grim struggle. The fear and
horror she had felt upon awakening in a crude cyborg frame surged up
in her memory, and she instinctively clutched at Flint. She carefully
removed his helmet, and cursed as she found him to be
unconscious. Perhaps it had been a concussion or even feedback from
the Force. Whatever the cause, she needed him, but couldn't have
him. She was alone. Alone, but not helpless. Not as long as the Force
was with her.  Fear was a way to reach the dark side. Especially if
that fear could be channeled into anger. She focused her emotions and
let them fill her with power. The rage came easily, flowing from her
hatred of the rebels and their victory over her. It seemed impossible
even now, but the rebel shipyards had been a trap designed solely to
destroy her fleet. The rebels had taken her old life, and now her new
command as well. They had tricked her personally. She had found and
believed the information that lured them into the trap. Information
carried in the droid belonging to the two captured rebels. The same
rebels that had been at Kulthis, where Shira had died. Tank and
Slaughter.  A new certainty filled Lumiya. She may have lost her
fleet, but she could still have revenge. The two rebels responsible
for her losses were still her prisoners. She was going to find and
kill them both.

* * *

When Flint regained consciousness, he found himself in Systems
Control, lying on his back and looking up at a haggard
Lieutenant. "What's happening?" he groaned. Flint couldn't recall how
he had gotten from the doomed bridge to this lower deck. "Where's Lady
Lumiya, Lieutenant..."  "Lieutenant Yoff, Sir. Lady Lumiya brought you
here, and told me to watch over you."  "How long ago?" he demanded,
getting slowly to his feet.  "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes, Sir. She
left you here and said she was going to kill some prisoners."  Flint
grimaced. Kill some prisoners...it must be those two rebels they had
interrogated. "What is the status of the ship?"  "Not good, Sir. The
rebel trap took out our shields and weapons systems. Power is down to
twenty percent.  Artificial gravity is sporadic, and we have over a
thousand dead. We lost the other ships in the fleet...no survivors."
Yoff hung his head.  "Do we know what happened?" asked Flint.  "Most
of it, Sir. As far as our sensor logs show, the rebel ships were
decoys of some kind, loaded with powerful explosives. Detonite, or
perhaps Megonite. The explosion destroyed the Interdictor cruisers
outright, and crippled us."  "But why?" Flint scowled. "It doesn't
make sense.  Why build those ships, only to destroy them? I thought
they needed them desperately."  "Sir," said Yoff hesitantly, "as I
said before, the ships appear to have been decoys. Just after the
explosion, we received fragmentary readings from our aft sensors - the
only ones that weren't obliterated. They seemed to detect three
Capital ships emerging from the oceans below and flying past us into
space. They went to hyperspace before we could get a clear image,
but..."  Flint looked at the display indicated by Yoff. The signals
were consistent with ships similar to the Calamarian cruisers they had
been blockading. Suddenly, everything was clear. "Those were the real
ships," he said somberly.  There must be another shipyards
underwater. But they couldn't get those cruisers past the Interdictor
cruisers either.  They knew we wouldn't be thinking in alien terms,
just human ones. They gave us a human style orbital shipyards to focus
on, but they had to get past us in the end. We were guarding the only
window for a fast hyperspace escape.  Those rebels...they weren't here
to sabotage the ship, they were here to bring information to us, to
lure us into their trap, to make it look like we figured out their
weak spot by ourselves."  Flint fell silent. He found himself admiring
the two captured rebels. They had risked their lives, faced terrible
odds, and why? So that they could become...someone who mattered. Which
was only what he had wanted when he became part of the Sith. The
question was, in what way did he want to make a difference, now? He
had forgiven the rebellion itself, so he must also extend that honor
to the prisoners. They had fought with great cunning, and Flint
decided he had been beaten fairly. If the rebels were still alive,
they should be released. There was no longer any point to their
captivity. The battle was over. Then he remembered. Lumiya had gone to
kill them.  Something hardened inside Flint, filling him with
resolve. His defeat had brought him to a new understanding of the path
he had to follow. He had to convince Lumiya to follow that path as
well, in order to fulfill his responsibility to her. For, the path she
was on now could only lead to her destruction.  He had to find her,
before she found the rebels. It was a race, and Lumiya had a head
start. He picked up his mirrored helmet and settled it onto his
shoulders. "Thank you for your help, Lieutenant," came his filtered
voice.  "Send out a distress signal and get this ship evacuated as
best you can. I have something...personal to attend to."  With that,
Lord Flint left the shaken Lieutenant and strode into the smoking
corridors, grasping his lightsaber.

* * *

Immediately after the explosion, the lights in Tank's cell went out,
and the artificial gravity ceased. A deep thundering sound vibrated
through the walls, and Tank woke up. It took him a moment to figure
out that he hadn't died, but once he oriented himself in the
weightless blackness by finding his sleeping ledge, his wits returned.
Fighting the lingering pain of his lacerations, he pushed off towards
the cell door. If the power had gone out, then the magnetic seal on
the door would have broken. Without artificial gravity, he might be
able to push it open. He found the door ajar, with a small crack
opened at the bottom. Tank wrapped his fingers under it and pushed
against the floor with his feet. Despite the ministrations of the
medical droid, every wound seemed to be raw and open just below his
skin. He strained, and the door slid up a meter with surprising ease,
then jammed. Tank pulled himself under it and floated out into the
darkness of the angular detention corridor. He supposed he could thank
whatever disaster had struck the ship for his being alone in the cell
block. He had no idea what had happened, but he felt that the
Imperials had probably gotten what they deserved. In any case, he was
free, and now he had to get his wife out.  Tank was troubled by a
memory of dozens of cells in the immediate vicinity, but he decided to
trust to good old, boring Imperial predictability. He reached for the
door release for the cell to the immediate right of his own. The door
didn't budge. Tank cursed. Of course, the power was out. He tried to
shove the door open, but he couldn't get any leverage. There was no
crack open at the bottom this time.  Tank thought hard for a long
minute, but came up with nothing. Still, he wouldn't leave without
Shally, even if it meant becoming a prisoner again. He pulled himself
out into the detention block control room, feeling blindly at the dead
consoles. Suddenly his floating foot bumped something low to the
floor. His questing fingers discovered the familiar shape of Shally's
R2 unit, distinctive for the voice box on its dome.  "Beesix!" he
whispered. "Are you activated?"  There was no response. Tank felt
around the droid's front and found the protruding shape of a
restraining bolt, probably set to maintain the droid's
deactivation. With no time for subtlety, he pulled off his boot and
used the heel to batter the bolt off. The seal finally broke, and the
little green droid's dome lights awakened to a steady glow. Beesix
suddenly threw off a blinding spotlight into Tank's face, forcing him
to shield his eyes.  "Would you point that thing someplace else?"
"Thank the Maker! It's you," piped Beesix. "How did you escape? Where
is Mistress Edrin?"  "Mistress Boma," snapped Tank. "And by the way,
I'm your Master now, too, and don't you forget it. You have to help me
get Shally out of her cell. We don't have much time."  Beesix
magnetized his treads and rolled towards the corridor Tank pushed off
into, brightly lighting the way.  Tank helped him with the stairs, and
soon they reached the cells.  "I need you to feed power to the door
mechanism.  Let's try this one to the right of mine first."  Beesix
extended an instrument arm and plugged into the control panel. Small
colored lights blinked on, and the door slid upwards. Beesix's
spotlight revealed the cell to be empty.  "All right, now the one to
the left. Try this one."  Beesix rolled over and complied. This time,
Tank felt relief and joy when the bright light revealed Shally lying
on the ledge in the rear of the cell. His happiness quickly became
concern when he saw she wasn't moving. A hasty inspection showed she
was still alive, but she wasn't responding to anything. He decided she
was drugged. Tank pulled her to her feet and supported her limp body
with his own. He felt her weight and wished he was larger. Then he
realized the artificial gravity had returned, and he jumped a little
when red emergency lighting came on.  "Oh, sure, now they turn the
power back on," muttered Tank. Then he realized that it could mean the
Imperials were on their way back. They had to get out of the cell
block, fast. Beyond that, they had to get off of the ship itself,
which meant crossing more than half the length of the vessel, past who
knew how many Stormtroopers, to reach the hangar bays, and steal a
ship. And somewhere, Lumiya might be waiting.  "Beesix, we have to get
off this ship," said Tank.  "You have the schematics in your
memory. Can you find us a way to the hangar bays with a minimum of
exposure?  Service tubes? Air ducts? Anything like that?"  The droid
turned itself to the analysis as they started down the corridor. At
that moment, Shally began to stir.  Tank set her down gently and held
her face. "Shally, it's me, Tank. Can you hear me?"  She focused on
him, and her eyes filled with tears.  She reached for him, and they
held tight for as long as they felt safe. Tank quietly explained what
was going on, and finished by helping her to her feet. "We have to get
out of here. Can you walk?"  She nodded.  Beesix rolled gently against
her. "I am so pleased to see you improving, Mistress Boma. If you were
lost, I would have missed you a great deal, especially because I would
then only be the property of Master Boma-" Tank swatted the
droid. "Give it a rest, will you?  How are those calculations coming
along?"  "I have projected a route comprised of turbolift tubes,
lesser corridors, maintenance chutes, and droid access corridors. It
can take us to the hangar bays, but it will take more then an hour,
and we may be hunted, once our escape is discovered. It is also
possible that some areas of the ship are damaged, including the escape
route, and may be impassable."  "Wait," said Shally weakly. "Why go to
the hangar bays? There are only three of us. We can find an escape pod
a lot closer..."  Tank turned on Beesix. "You're supposed to be a
smart droid. Why didn't you think of that?"  "I was only solving the
problem you assigned to me, Master Boma. If you wanted other
information-" "Shut up Beesix," grumped Tank.

* * *

Lady Lumiya stormed into the deserted detention block control
room. The emergency lighting gave her metallic body the illusion that
it was soaked in blood. Her light whip was in her hands and
uncoiled. Her fury was honed to a razor edge. All during her slow
journey to the detention center, hampered as she was by the loss of
artificial gravity, her anger had been growing. Lord Vader had shown
her how to use it to unleash the power of the Force. Now, it was
uncertain how she would destroy the prisoners first, by slicing them
to ribbons, or crushing their hearts with the power of the dark side.
Lumiya vaulted up the stairs and ran to the rebel cells. She was
shocked to find them empty, her quarry fled.  How? How had they
escaped? Could it be the work of the other rebel agents? Despite an
intensive search, no other rebels had been found, but that didn't mean
they weren't here, somewhere. No matter. If Tank and Slaughter had
help, she would simply destroy all of them together.  Closing her
eyes, Lumiya reached out with the Force, her extended senses questing
for the rebels' life energies. She sensed wounded people all around,
as well as others helping them in a disciplined way. The Imperial
minds had a certain feel, a sense that they were in their natural
environment. Lumiya disregarded them, reaching out further. There! She
had them. Three decks up, and heading aft, were a pair of minds that
were full of desperate fear.  There was an overwhelming desire to
escape. One of the minds was dull, drugged perhaps. They had to be the
rebels, and they were alone.  Lumiya whirled and leaped into the
control room, plunging towards the door. Her cyborg legs sped her on
her way. They would not escape her, she vowed. Their lives belonged to
her.

* * *

Tank, Shally, and Beesix ran, stumbled, and rolled through the smoke
filled corridors of the Star Destroyer.  Now it was obvious to them
that the ship was severely damaged. Dead and wounded were scattered
about, and in the confusion, the fleeing rebels in their dirty Support
Fleet uniforms were not noticed or stopped. Beesix guided them towards
the nearest bank of escape pods, but twice their route was blocked by
collapsed corridors, and they had to retrace their steps. A call went
out for the evacuation of the ship, and they soon found themselves
traveling with a few limping, bleeding officers and Naval
Troopers. They spoke no words to the Imperials, but simply helped them
along.  Finally, weary and choking, the small group reached a long
room that was lined on one wall with access hatches to escape
pods. Tank tried to breath a sigh of relief, but he ended up coughing
spasmodically instead. When he raised his eyes from the floor, they
met the glaring eyes of Lady Lumiya, who was standing directly in
front of him. She had been waiting for them.  Lumiya spoke
commandingly to the Imperials who came in with Tank and Shally. "Get
to the escape pods.  These rebels are mine to deal with." The confused
Imperials were too weak to argue, or perhaps they just didn't care.
They slowly climbed into some of the pods as Lumiya faced her prey.
Tank and Shally backed up against the wall, stricken with sudden
terror from the Force, as Lumiya activated her light whip. The deadly
strands burned through the air as the cyborg swept them grandly over
her head. Suddenly, Beesix rolled straight at the Dark Lady, his laser
cutter, circular saw, and shock prod all extended. But before he could
close with her, she extended one hand towards the droid, palm
outwards. Beesix was hammered by an invisible force and flung
backwards against the wall. The droid hit hard, and crashed onto the
deck, where he lay still. His dome lights flickered and went
out. Lumiya faced Tank and Shally again, raising the whip.  There was
the sudden humming vibration of a lightsaber igniting.  Lumiya faced
the entryway, and stiffened in surprise. It was Flint. He was fully
armored, and his horned helmet covered his head, hiding his
expression. All she could see in its mirrored surface was her own face
with her rage-filled eyes. "Flint," she called out uncertainly. There
was something about his sense that felt threatening. "I have the
rebels that escaped. The ones that caused this to happen to us."  "No,
Lumiya," said Flint, his rough voice mechanically filtered through his
helmet. "We did it to ourselves. They simply gave us the means to
defeat ourselves. I can't let you kill them. You have to let them go,
and give up your hatred of the rebellion. They're not the ones who
destroyed your life. I did that. But I can save your life, if you let
them go, and come with me now."  Lumiya angrily pointed at Flint's
crimson lightsaber blade. "Are you going to fight me to stop me from
killing these two?" she demanded.  "If you force me to, Lumiya," Flint
said calmly. He took off his helmet and looked at her steadily.  "So
be it, Flint."  They stared at each other, not moving. Lumiya locked
her gaze with Flint's. Long moments of indecision passed. Then
Lumiya's eyes narrowed suddenly with chilling violence, and Flint's
eyes lit up with angry disbelief.  Lumiya swept the light whip up and
around, forcing Flint to leap backwards to escape the searing
lightning strike.  The Sith circled each other warily, even as Tank
and Shally cowered in the corner, trying to stay out of range of the
fight. Lumiya attacked with frightening skill, the light whip seeming
to come alive in her hands. Its electric and metal strands were
everywhere, striking at Flint like a whirlwind of fiery serpents. They
struck sparks off the walls and ceiling, screaming through the air as
Flint was forced to retreat. He was quickly coming to understand how
her ancient weapon had been able to defeat the Jedi lightsabers of
old. Each time he tried to fend off her blows, his saber blade was
tangled in the chaotic energy tendrils of the whip, while the metal
coils lashed against him, staggering him and nearly making him lose
his grip on his weapon.  Finally, Flint could retreat no
further. Behind him were the wall and the two helpless rebels he had
tried to save. He held up his lightsaber, sweat beading on his face.
"Just remember, Flint," grated Lumiya, "you gave me no choice in
this." With inhuman speed, she struck, ripping Flint's lightsaber out
of his grasp and slicing his exposed face, dazzling him. The
lightsaber clattered to the deck, deactivated and out of reach.  But
Flint wasn't finished. As the punishing coils slashed into him, he
grasped as many of them as he could and wrapped them around his
arms. Then he threw himself at Lumiya, spinning as he charged. The
energy strands arced wildly against him, but his armor was made of
Mandalorian Iron, a metal capable of deflecting the blow of a
lightsaber.  He wrapped himself in the strands of the light whip,
coiling it around his armor until he ran full into Lumiya. Suddenly
the destructive fire of the whip threatened her, too. Shocked and
surprised, she instinctively deactivated her weapon as she and Flint
fell to the floor. Before Lumiya could recover, Flint reached out a
gauntleted hand and his lightsaber flew into it. He switched on the
humming red light blade and held it across Lumiya's throat.  "You
rebels!" he shouted. "Go, now!"  Tank and Shally needed no
urging. They staggered over to their droid and lifted it
up. Struggling with the burden, they opened an escape pod door and
dumped the droid inside. Then they climbed in and shut the
hatch. Soon, there was the sound of explosive bolts firing, and the
pod was gone. Lumiya lay very still. The violence had been shocked out
of her by Flint's sudden victory, and the object of her anger was now
out of reach. And still Lord Flint held the lightsaber blade at Lady
Lumiya's throat, because her cyborg body itself was a weapon. Their
eyes remained fixed on each other's. Finally, Lumiya spoke.  "What
next?"  Flint's expression was tense. "Now you listen to some things
that I have to say."  She nodded, carefully.  "We're on the wrong
path, Lumiya," said Flint. "We don't belong as part of this conflict
between the rebels and the Empire. We're the new Sith, and we're
outside all of that. If we try to be a part of it, you, and I, and the
Sith will die."  "What are you talking about, Flint?" Lumiya
retorted. "Why did you stop me from killing those rebels?"  "Lumiya, I
need you to hear what I'm telling you.  We are the keepers of the Sith
power. Now, think about what Lord Vader said about how the old Sith
power was sacrificed for the Emperor's political power. Lord Vader
never learned anything from that. He's trying to recreate the Sith,
but he still thinks in terms of political power. He placed us within
the Imperial command structure, under the Emperor, even though he knew
we could attract the wrong kind of attention from Palpatine. It was
the only way he could think. In the end, he's the Emperor's servant,
and he can't see past that. But I can."  "Go on," said Lumiya quietly.
"Lumiya, the rebels weren't responsible for what happened to my life
on Belderone. I brought Luke Skywalker's presence in the system to the
attention of Lord Vader, and everything followed from that. Even what
happened to you." Flint looked in her eyes for a hint of anger at his
admission, but found none. Encouraged, he went on. "Once I couldn't
blame the rebels any more, I was able to see that I was free to choose
my own path. Being a Sith and being part of the Empire aren't the same
thing. We don't have to concern ourselves with this Civil War. In
fact, I see it as destruction for both of us. Either Palpatine will
enslave us, or the rebels will get just a bit luckier than they did
today. I know better than Lord Vader how the Sith have to go on. It's
not a matter of politics. It's a matter of the Force."  Lumiya knew
Flint spoke the truth. After their defeat at Calamari, she and Flint
would stand no chance with the intolerant and unforgiving
Emperor. Flint was right, there was really no choice, but his
interference with her desire for vengeance still rankled. "And those
rebels we captured?"  Lumiya asked coolly.  "I had to let those rebels
go, because there was no reason to kill them. They beat us, and they
deserve to live. I wanted to force you to let them go, to make you
give up your hatred of the Alliance. It's a trap...that's all it
is. And I want you to come with me, away from the Empire, and recreate
the Sith. We're not meant to be the Emperor's pawns. The true future
of the Sith is with you and I together." Flint finished, and waited.
Lumiya let out a long breath. She was moved by his words. Flint made a
lot of sense. Perhaps he was right. Her life as a Major in
Intelligence had meant a lot to her, but she was a Sith now, and that
should be most important to her.  Her personal war against the
Alliance could be a trap. And what were those two rebels to her,
anyway? They were nothing. Now that the distraction of vengeance was
removed, she was able to see just how close she had come to dying for
her political beliefs. And, she suddenly wondered, how much of it had
been her choice, really, considering the long indoctrination of her
youth? It was very hard, but she found she could begin to let it go,
after all. There were better things in the future Flint described.
One thing, however, she could not let go. Flint had been kind to try
to take responsibility for her pain, but there was really only one man
who truly was responsible. One day, she knew she would settle her
score against Luke Skywalker. Nothing could change that.  She let the
handle of her light whip slip from her hand, and said, "I've said over
and over again that Shira Brie is dead. It's time I started acting
like it. All right, Flint, I'll go with you."  Flint deactivated his
lightsaber, and Lumiya slowly sat up next to him. The anger had
drained out of her eyes, and the violence had left her. She reached
out a metal hand and slowly caressed Flint's scored, blackened armor,
so like her own cyborg body. Their earlier confrontation came back to
her, when her loathing for her physical state had reduced her to
tears. Now, she could see that they shared a purpose that could unite
them in ways above and beyond the physical.  "Perhaps, Flint," she
said quietly, "we're more alike than not, after all."  Flint stood,
and held out his gauntleted hand. She took it in her cyborg one, and
gracefully rose, clipping her light whip to her belt. Then she reached
up and peeled away her face mask, revealing her scars and letting her
long red hair fall free. She let the mask fall to the deck.  "Now I'm
ready," she said.  Lord Flint and Lady Lumiya of the Sith turned
together and went back into the dying Guardian. On their way through
the Star Destroyer, the Sith cloaked themselves in illusion, and they
were not seen by any crew member.  They entered the main hangar bay
and claimed a Gamma class assault shuttle, which they also cloaked in
invisibility.  Piloting the shuttle to the rear of the defenseless
Star Destroyer, Lumiya waited patiently until no more escape pods
remained to be launched. The enormous vessel was finally empty. Then
she fired her full complement of concussion missiles at the
unprotected main engines. As Lumiya and Flint accelerated away in the
shuttle, the Star Destroyer Guardian was annihilated in an awesome
detonation that marked their departure from the Empire and the
uncertain beginning of their new life.

* * *

Tank and Shally were picked up, along with the surviving crew of the
Guardian, by a rebel Escort Frigate a day later. The Imperials were
taken into custody, and, after questioning, they would be released
somewhere out on the Galactic Rim. Meanwhile, the Frigate was cruising
serenely through the empty reaches of space, flanked by three enormous
Mon Calamari MC-80 cruisers. Shally gazed at them through the viewport
of her passenger quarters on the Frigate. Tank stood beside her, his
arm draped across her shoulders.  "I feel the worst about Shira," said
Tank. "I trusted her. We all did. Then she turns out to be someone
like Lumiya."  "She=D5s a tortured individual, from what you told me,"
said Shally. "She nearly died, and that has a way of changing a
person. Believe me, I've been there. But I had you to help me to avoid
making my life one big act of vengeance. I don=D5t know. Maybe Flint
can help her. I=D5d like to think so. I still think he=D5s an
honorable man, after he saved our lives." She moved even closer into
his embrace. "I don=D5t know what I would have done without you. But
this mission made me think about having to face that. I began to
question whether the cause I was fighting for was worth it, if it
meant losing you. Now, after all this, I=D5m still not sure.  I just
hope it never comes to that."  "I know how you feel," said Tank. "I
was ready to put your life before the rebellion, too. I think maybe
there=D5s nothing wrong with that. Part of what we=D5re fighting for
is to preserve a world for people like us to live in. So we matter as
much as the cause."  "What matters is, we made it," sighed Shally.
"And they made it," said Tank, looking at the proud new Capital
ships. A vast feeling of relief was all he felt.  They had survived
against all odds, and succeeded in their mission, although Tank still
wasn=D5t clear on how. As far as he could tell, they had failed.
There was a gentle knock on the door behind them, and when Shally
opened it, there was Admiral Ackbar, with a fully repaired Artoo
Beesix trundling brightly behind him.  "May I come in?" rasped the Mon
Calamari leader, rotating his huge eyes at Shally.  "Of course," she
said, smiling down at her droid.  "That was a brave thing you did,
Beesix, trying to save our lives."  Tank came over and gamely offered
his own thanks.  "Yeah, good job, little guy. I didn=D5t think you had
it in you."  Beesix beeped and blatted in reply. Tank was surprised to
see that the voice box had been removed.  Admiral Ackbar had it in his
large flipper like hands.  "The techs wanted to give this back to
you," he said, "for installation at your own discretion. I came by to
thank the both of you for what you did. The new ships will be crucial
to our cause. One of them is going to be my flagship, Home One."
"Look," said Tank," there are a few things we don=D5t understand
yet...like what happened."  "I=D5m sorry you haven=D5t been debriefed
yet," said Ackbar kindly. "For now, I can explain some of it to you.
We built the ships you see in an undersea shipyards. At the same time,
we constructed decoy ships in space, and set six mostly automated
defense stations to guard them, predicting that the Imperials would
set up a blockade to prevent the cruisers from escaping. We gambled
that the Empire wouldn=D5t send an attack fleet, based on the disdain
we know they feel for us. But we still had to get our cruisers past
the blockade. That=D5s what your mission accomplished. We felt that
the Empire would be fully willing to believe you were there on a
dangerous mission of infiltration, while your real purpose was to
smuggle in false information inside your R2 unit. Your sabotage
mission had a real chance of success, of course, but we knew you might
be captured." Ackbar looked uncomfortable. "There were no other rebel
agents, just the two of you. I just want you to know that either I or
General Cracken would take the same risks."  "It=D5s all right,
Admiral," said Shally. "We still knew what we were getting into."
Ackbar bowed slightly to her. "In any event, the Imperials found the
information, and it led them to believe they had found a weakness in
our defenses. But when they were lured in, the decoys exploded, taking
the Star Destroyers with them. Our real cruisers escaped, and
thankfully, we were able to rescue you afterwards.  However," Ackbar
said sadly, "this victory might be what finally turns the full
attention of the Emperor to my world.  We can only hope that it will
have been worth it. I=D5ll leave you alone now. I understand you need
some rest. But General Cracken wanted me to give you these when I saw
you, with his deepest thanks." Ackbar passed them a slim box. "May the
Force be with you."  After the Admiral left, Tank opened the
box. "Look at this - medals of honor! Now I=D5m just as good as Luke,
right?" Tank grinned widely.  "Better than Luke, darling," said
Shally, admiring her medal. "Biggs would have been so proud of you."
Tank pulled out a data card next. "This is a notice of
promotion. We=D5re both Lieutenants, now."  "Just so you remember
who=D5s the boss, no matter what," said Shally. "Wait, something fell
out of the box."  She bent to retrieve two plastic cards from the
floor. "Okay, Lieutenant, want to go on our next mission on the Kuari
Princess? These are two tickets!"  "Yes, Sir," said Tank, stepping
into her arms.  Beesix beeped and whistled at them, but they were too
caught up in one another to pay him the slightest attention.


EPILOGUE

Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, stood on the bridge of the
Executor, gazing out at the movements of his fleet and brooding. He
had just received some unpleasant news. The Calamari blockade had been
destroyed, and it seemed that Flint and Lumiya had not survived. His
Sith disciples were gone, and the loss troubled Vader. For a brief
time, he had felt like his own person, instead of a servant.  Now that
time was over.  If only he could find his son. That could bring back
the feeling he craved. There was a good chance of that happening, too,
due to the massive Probe Droid project now under way. If he could find
his son, he might still fulfill the destiny envisioned by Exar Kun, or
perhaps find an even greater one...  Vader felt an unaccustomed pain
at the loss of Flint and Lumiya, but the story of the Sith was not
over. As long as he remained Dark Lord, he felt certain that the Sith
would rise again.

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