Dramatis Personae

Jace Sidrona; acting Sith Leader (male human)

Lord Pilot Thunder; Sith Two, XO (female human)

Rick; Sith Three (male human)

Fox Starfighter; Sith Six (male Bothan/Ryn/human hybrid)

Seven; Sith Seven (male human)

Palin; Sith Eight (female human)

Star; Sith Nine (female human)

Skate; Sith Ten (female human)

Jeni Violet; Sith Eleven (female human)

Narska Plo’kre; Sith Twelve (male Bothan)

Captain Vanicus; SSD commander, prisoner of TOS (male human)

Gimmer; SSD mechanic, prisoner of TOS (male human)

Tyros Dakon; Jeni Violet’s assistant (male human)

Nuprin Karnes; SSD quartermaster (male unknown)

Ryvo Lorell; conman (male Kiffar)

Meltdown; swoop gang leader (male Kiffar)

Havoc; swooper (male Advozse)

Xanthis; apprentice of Darth Zarin (male human)

Andell Kovares; TOS general (male human)

Leko Akude; fighter (male unknown)

Prestin Frosto; Chairman of the Board, VosseTech (male human)

Devaronian; gambler (male Devaronian)

Chonat; fight promoter (male Adnerem)

Baron Reno; Sith Leader, prisoner of Darth Zarin (male human)

Darth Zarin; Sith Lord (male human)

     Trees raced by to either side. Sludge sloshed beneath. The midday sunlight barely pierced the dense foliage above. All of those elements combined to make a not-so-ideal location for running, let alone standing. But Ryvo pressed on, moving as quickly as he could through the marsh, intent on escaping his pursuer.

     Approaching a fallen tree overlooking a ditch that was at least ten meters deep, he skidded to a halt and retrieved a small machete from his belt. Hacking a vine that hung high from a tree across the ditch, having wrapped itself around the log over a long period of time, he swung across the ditch and landed safely on the other side. Through some shrubs, under another fallen tree, and through a particularly deep pool of murky water and he could see blue sky peeking through the trees at the edge of the bog. Ryvo grinned as his ship, the Thrillseeker, came into view.

     Just as he was about to exit the swamp, a figure clad in black fell in front of him. An indigo shaft of light appeared with an accompanying snap-hiss. Ryvo put the brakes on and stared at the lightsaber wielder, panting heavily.

     “You suck, Ryvo,” Skate said, one side of her mouth pulled up into a half smile.

     “Hey, I almost made it this time,” Ryvo said in defense.

     “You don’t know how long I was waiting in that tree,” Skate said, shutting her lightsaber down. Her expression changed to one of frustration. “Did you even try to sense me?”

     “Yeah, but I didn’t get anything. Maybe you were hiding yourself too well.”

     Skate shook her head. “I wasn’t keeping the Force to myself at all. Besides that, I beat you back here again with ease.”

     “I thought I made pretty good time, but if that’s so, then your time is downright excellent.” Ryvo shook his head. “Then again, unlike you, I can’t run like a Cracian Thumper whacked out on glitterstim.”

     “You have to make yourself do so, then. Don’t see it as a race. See it as something you must do! Concentrate on the task. Use all the anger you have. Channel it into your body. Use it to enhance.” Skate sighed. “I know it’s easier said than done, but you have to put your mind to it. You have to believe in it.”

     “I understand all that,” Ryvo said. “I’ve tried again and again. Maybe those things just aren’t my knack.”

     “Just not your knack?”

     “You said yourself that some of you are only proficient at one or two abilities, while others are adept at a broader spectrum of skills.” He shrugged. “Maybe my ability to affect people’s minds is the limit of my Force potential.”

     Skate bit her bottom lip. “I guess it’s possible. But don’t give up so soon.”

     “Maybe we could work on some other skills,” the Kiffar suggested. He eyed her lightsaber, still in hand. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if I could check out your lightsaber.”

     “I don’t know,” Skate said, grimacing. “I know you’re far from a novice swordsman, but a lightsaber can be dangerous in untrained hands.”

     “So I’ve heard.” Ryvo, being the information pirate that he was, had read much on the topic of lightsabers over the years. He had seen their hilts clipped to a select few individuals he had crossed paths with, but never one in action—until he met Skate, that is. “Humor me.”

     Skate scowled at him. “All right.”

     Ryvo accepted the cylinder-shaped weapon from her. He ignited it easy enough, then waved it around a few times, the hum changing frequency as he did so.

     “I can see how someone could hurt themselves with one of these.” He gripped the hilt with both hands. “But not me.” Spinning around, he brought the blade down and then sharply up, making an imaginary check mark, severing a small tree’s trunk in the process. “Awesome.”

     “Not bad. But not as good as this.” All at once, Skate retrieved her lightblade from her back, ignited it, backhanded a tree behind her, then slashed the opposite way. She repeated this several times, cutting the trunk into at least ten pieces all before it hit the ground.

     Ryvo whistled. “Outstanding.” He looked at the blade he was holding. “How about a duel?”

     Skate snorted. “What, and let you lop off my arm? No thanks. Maybe when you’ve had more practice.”

     “Come on, the goal isn’t to learn how not to amputate your opponent’s arm,” Ryvo argued. “You have to defend yourself. Besides, what kind of idiot would chop off somebody’s arm during a practice session?”

     “Let’s see what you’ve got then,” Skate said, raising her lightblade.

     Ryvo raised the lightsaber with a double-handed grip, pointing the tip at Skate. “Am I doing it right?”

     Skate shrugged. “The great thing about lightsabers is that there is no right way. Everyone has their own style.” She lunged at Ryvo and slashed at his blade. He batted her smaller blade to the side, albeit a bit too hard. “It takes getting used to. If you push too hard against little resistance, it’ll allow your opponent an open shot on the other side.”

     “Kinda like conventional swords.”

     “Kinda, but there are major differences.”

     Skate came at Ryvo, hacking at him left and right. Ryvo backpedaled, blocking her attack. He stiffly batted away her blade and spun around quickly, crouching as he did so, swinging the lightsaber at Skate’s ankles. Quickly jumping over the slash, she swung her lightblade down at Ryvo, who held up his own blade to block.

     Ryvo rose from his crouch and faked a low cut, then went high, but Skate’s smaller blade was there for the parry. They exchanged a few light blade clashes, feeling each other out. Then Ryvo went for a horizontal slash at Skate’s left side. She brought her blade around, its tip pointed at the ground, to block. Then she spun to her left three hundred and sixty degrees, dropping low to take Ryvo down with a leg sweep.

     Ryvo looked up at her from the ground. “How about we tie one of your hands behind your back?”

     “Hey, this is nothing. Would you rather me use TK?”

     “You’re right…I do suck,” Ryvo said, shaking his head.

     “You don’t suck…well, maybe you do, but that’s no reason to be a defeatist.” Skate sighed. “Remember what I said earlier about the anger and channeling it? Do it. It applies here, too. I’m a big girl, and like you said, I have to defend myself. Don’t be afraid to let loose.”

     Ryvo kicked up. “If you say so.”

     Raising his borrowed blade, Ryvo took a deep breath and let it out. He circled Skate as she remained stationary, only pivoting to remain facing him. As he circumnavigated her position, he thought of all the things that angered him. Things that he didn’t normally discuss with most people. Things that he covered up in the real world with a mask of buoyancy, machismo and womanizing. Then he took all those thoughts—those emotions—and visualized Skate as the flesh and blood personification of them. He then moved his thoughts to the lightsaber in his hands, the instrument of retribution on the things that angered him. Rage roiling inside him, he slashed at Skate. Then all hell broke loose.

     A flash of light seemed to blind him, then he was standing in an alley.

     The slash he had aimed at Skate instead blocked a knife that was soaring through the air at him. He heard a whistling sound, not unlike an astromech droid, and spun around. A human and an Arcona approached him.

     “What’s with the smirk on your face, there? Do I need to burn it off with my blaster for ya?” the human said, but Ryvo read his lips more than heard him.

     He pivoted back, and saw another human approaching from the other end of the alley. The three beings stopped.

     “We protect all the fine businesses around here. Whatever ya did back there

just isn't going to pass.” The human with the blaster spoke almost inaudibly. “Are ya some kind of Jedi? Gonna hit us with some kind of mummery, are ya?”

     The three beings attacked, and after a short but gruesome fight, they all lay on the ground lifeless.

     Another flash and Ryvo was again standing in the swamp with Skate, holding the blade in the air, panting.

     “Are you okay?” Skate asked, obviously concerned.

     Ryvo deactivated the lightsaber. “I…don’t know.”

     “What happened?”

     “I had a vision of some kind,” Ryvo answered. “It was so real.”

     “Do you think it was the future?” Skate asked.

     “I don’t have any way of knowing.”

     Skate looked down in thought. “What did you see?”

     “I fought some thugs in an alleyway,” Ryvo said, shrugging. “I killed them.” He shook his head. “Two humans…and an Arcona.”

     “I think we better get back and tell Jace,” Skate said in a tone that didn’t betray her grim expression.

     Jace took a mouthful of Whyren’s and looked at Skate, then Ryvo. The only other beings in the lounge were a few tables of techs, midshipmen and troopers. The bartender was wiping down the bar, whistling to himself. The rest of the Siths were busy questioning captives from the TOS base and Strike cruiser. Jace had grudgingly taken a break from the interrogation to have a meeting with Skate and Ryvo. He had dark circles under his eyes and tousled hair, Ryvo noted.

     “So you saw Skate’s encounter in the alley on Kiffu in your vision?” Jace asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

     “No, I was Skate in her encounter on Kiffu,” Ryvo corrected.

     “Interesting,” Jace said, looking at the table. “Flashbacks can mean many things.”

     Skate shook her head. “But flashbacks of other people’s experiences?”

     “That is a bit odd,” Jace admitted. “I have to admit it’s not a phenomenon that I’m familiar with. I can’t speak for everyone else, but I myself have never had flashbacks from other people’s lives.”

     Ryvo looked over at Skate.

     She threw her hands in the air. “Don’t look at me.”

     Jace sighed. “If anyone knows anything about this, it’s Thunder. She’s a walking library.” He thumbed his comlink. “Two, Lead.”

     “Copy.”

     “Can you come down to the main lounge?”

     “Sounds like a great idea to me,” Thunder said in what sounded like genuine interest. “Have a Whyren’s ready. I’ll be there in two minutes and two seconds.”

     They all had their glasses refilled and a drink ordered for Thunder by the time she arrived. She looked equally exhausted as Jace, but despite that, she still struck an imposing image. She hunkered down into a chair, threw her long hair behind her, took a rather large swig from her glass and looked at the other three persons seated at the table.

     “What’s up,” she asked.

     “Ryvo had a strange experience on Trinta, and we want your thoughts on it,” Jace said.

     “What was it?”

     Ryvo explained what had happened, and Skate stressed that he had relived her encounter, not one of his own. Thunder listened quietly the whole time, a faint look of recognition on her face.

     “Very interesting. I have read in texts that some Jedi, and many Guardians from your homeworld, had the ability to psionically scan things. Telemetrics, if you will.” Thunder pursed her lips. “That is most likely what happened to you. You were holding Skate’s lightsaber when it happened. The same one she used in the fight.”

     Ryvo nodded. “Bizarre.”

     “I can only imagine what it was like,” Thunder said.

     “It was disturbing,” Ryvo said. “Very clear. Very realistic.”

     “Very realistic you say?” Thunder said, looking at Skate. “Did you compare your separate accounts of the event?”

     Skate nodded once, slowly. “He was dead on.”

     “Again, quite interesting,” Thunder said. She took a drink from her glass and set it back down, staring at it.

     Jace looked over at Thunder. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

     “If you’re thinking of helmets with glasses and straws mounted on the sides, then yes,” Thunder replied. When Jace didn’t laugh, she nodded. “Yes, and I think it just may work.”

     “What?” Ryvo queried.

     Thunder looked at him. “To put it in layman’s terms, we’re going to take an item, have you read it, and possibly locate our missing comrades.”

     “Possibly being the key word,” Jace put in, eyeing Thunder.

     Ryvo nodded in understanding. “I just hope I can do it again. After all, I did it the first time on accident.”

     Thunder cocked her head to the side. “It shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll just try to duplicate the conditions of your first flashback.”

     “You’re being a bit optimistic,” Jace said to Thunder, this time with an edge in his voice.

     “I don’t see how,” Thunder said, shaking her head. “I truly believe it won’t be overly problematic.”

     “Just don’t get your hopes up,” Jace said, draining his glass. He looked at Ryvo. “I’ll get with you later on this.” Saying nothing more to the other two occupants of the table, he walked away.

     “That guy,” Thunder began, “gets on my nerves.”

     “Maybe he’s just tired,” Skate suggested.

     “Yeah, well he’s not the only one.” Thunder downed the rest of her drink. “Screw interrogation. I’m going to bed.”

     As Thunder left the lounge, Seven entered. He spotted Ryvo and Skate and headed towards them. Waving his arm at the bartender, he took a seat.

     “This interrogation business is for the birds,” Seven said. “I grilled this one guy for twenty minutes before he would even speak. And even then, I didn’t get any useful information from him.” He sighed. “I bet it’s easy for Palin; using her beauty to get some answers.”

     “Gag me with a spoon,” Skate said dryly.

     “What?” Seven asked, accepting his drink from the waiter. “Call it infatuation, call it love, call it lust. Palin is the one for me.”

     Ryvo shrugged. “Then go for her.”

     “He does,” Skate said informatively. “She’s not interested.”

     “Then you have to make her interested,” Ryvo said. “It isn’t like a missile launch room where you and her have to turn your respective keys. You turn your key and you turn hers for her.”

     Skate rolled her eyes. “Sound advice.”

     Ryvo looked her up and down. “Obviously I didn’t follow it.”

     “I was being sarcastic,” Skate said, laughing. “You just keep playing your cards the way you are and you’ll be okay.”

     “What happens when the randomizer changes them,” Ryvo said, raising his eyebrows.

     Skate shrugged one shoulder. “It could be for the better or for the worse.”

     “So it’s a gamble?”

     Skate nodded, smiling.

     “Then I guess I’ll just have to gamble,” Ryvo conceded.

     “Uh, do you want me to leave you guys alone?” Seven asked.

     “Yes!” Ryvo and Skate both told him.

     Seven took his drink and moved to another table, head sagging. Skate watched him go, then looked at Ryvo.

     “What do you think Jace’s problem was?” the Toprawan asked.

     “He doesn’t trust me,” Ryvo said, without thinking about it. “I can’t blame him, really. If I just met me, I wouldn’t trust me, especially given the circumstances.”

     Skate nursed her drink. “I don’t altogether trust you, either. I understand what all you did for me and what you risked, and you seem like you’re being honest, but there’s always a little voice in the back of my mind asking whether or not this is all a big ruse of some sort. It’s a little voice, though. Tiny. Stupid, huh?”

     Ryvo put his hand on Skate’s. “It’s not stupid. Like I said, I wouldn’t trust myself. But I want you to know that everything I’ve ever told you is true.”

     “Except for the whole secret identity thing,” Skate put in.

     Ryvo frowned inwardly. He still felt guilty for deceiving her for as long as he had, under the guise of Wrenn Valto, a freelance information broker. It had been a necessary thing, though, for all parties involved. Had he revealed his true identity, blowing his cover as Valto, his selling of a tip to Sith Squadron under his given name wouldn’t have possible, thereby preventing Baron Reno’s capture. Xanthis had made it clear that if he weren’t successful in helping to snare Reno, his parents would have been executed.

     As Valto, he could make the information from Ryvo Lorell seem more enticing, which pretty much assured that Reno would choose it, therefore taking the bait and walking into a trap. With a TOS operative aboard the SSD, Ryvo couldn’t subsequently contact Sith Squadron and inform them of Reno’s possible whereabouts, the circumstances of the capture, or any other useful information. With his parents in Xanthis’ possession, Ryvo had been—and still was—one slipup away from losing them forever. If he continued to talk to Skate as Valto, he could get information and track their movements. This led him to covertly sending them data on where to find Reno in the form of a datacard from a barkeep on the planet Sova.

     “I’m sorry,” Ryvo said, breaking the silence. “Everything I told you then was the truth, though. All those stories really happened.”

     “Even the one about the mechanical bantha on Elshandruu Pica?” Skate asked.

     “Even that one.” Ryvo let out a breath. “And you know, I feel like crap about Reno. He was your leader, all of you. Sure, my parents’ lives were at stake, but could there have been another way?”

     Skate shook her head. “Don’t do that to yourself. I blamed myself for being the one to pass on the information from Wrenn Valto to him, and he overlooked it in favor of the information from you. How could I have convinced him of going to the other location, when I didn’t even know his choice led to a trap? It was stupid of me.”

     “But that’s just the thing. I set the trap.”

     Skate looked down in thought, then back at him. “Not willingly. But you are willingly helping us. That more than makes up for any guilt you feel.”

     Ryvo rested his jaw on his fist. “I won’t feel better until Reno and my parents are safe. And until those TOS bastards are rotting in rusted caskets.”

     Skate hissed. “They’re not good enough for caskets.”

     “Forget what I said about the caskets, then; by the time we’re done with them, there won’t be enough left to bury,” Ryvo said, meaning every word of it.

     Jace approached Thunder’s cabin and pressed the door chime. The door opened more than a minute later. Thunder stood with a robe on, her hair slightly disheveled. Jace spoke before she did.

     “You’re so sure of the ploy involving Ryvo that you skipped out in interrogation, huh?” Jace asked, stone-faced as usual.

     Thunder shrugged. “I’m tired.”

     “Join the club.” Jace held his gaze. “I’d like to enter. We have to talk.”

     “Sure,” Thunder said, standing aside and waving her hand towards the innards of her quarters. “I was trying to sleep, but that’s okay.”

     “This won’t take long,” Jace assured her, stepping into the cabin.

     Thunder took a seat in a chair, crossed her legs and folded her arms. Jace stood across from her with his hands clasped behind his back. She indicated a chair with a nod, but he only shook his head.

     “I want to know what you think of Ryvo,” Jace said.

     “Can you be more specific?” Thunder asked.

     “Do you trust him?” Jace clarified without hesitation.

     Thunder reflected briefly. “He informed us on a possible location of Reno, rescued Skate, and risked his life—not to mention those of his parents—to help us, all in a roundabout sort of way.”

     “I said as much in my speech at the memorial. And it’s all true. But…something keeps me from giving him my trust.”

     “Do you sense any duplicity from him?” Thunder asked.

     Jace tensed his face ever so slightly. “No. But that doesn’t keep me from hesitating to trust him.”

     “To be honest, I don’t trust anyone one hundred percent,” Thunder said. “There are too many variables involved that could change somebody’s loyalty. You don’t believe his story about the vision, do you?”

     “I find it hard to swallow,” Jace admitted. “But if what you said is true, it could be legit. Just seems convenient to me. But you seemed pretty sure of it in the lounge.”

     “There is such a thing as destiny,” Thunder said, raising her eyebrows. “And Skate said his description of the vision matched that of the real event.”

     Jace raised his chin. “Which brings up the question of how he got that information.”

     “If his story isn’t true,” Thunder added.

     Neither voiced a possibility of betrayal by Skate, yet it loomed in the realm of possibility in Jace’s mind.

     Jace nodded, then turned to appraise a wall decoration. “We don’t agree on a lot of things—“

     “Ya think?”

     “—but we are squadron mates and, more importantly, fellow Sith.” Jace turned to Thunder. “Should we trust him?”

     Thunder looked at Jace with a fire in her eyes that admittedly made him uncomfortable. “We have to.”

     Jace nodded slowly. “Agreed. It is imperative that Reno be found. Any risk is worth taking to attain that goal. To that end, I would like your support in all my decisions. We need one person to lead us on this hunt. Someone to rally behind. There is nobody who can better fill that role than myself. Your backing will set an example that will reinforce my role.”

     “What you ask is difficult,” Thunder said. “As you pointed out, we don’t agree on a lot of things.”

     “True, but I’ve already opened the bridge by going along with you regarding Ryvo.” Jace sighed. “Follow me, Thunder, and I promise we will find Reno. Nothing else is more important in my life.”

     Thunder didn’t respond for what seemed like a long time. “I will support you, but I won’t follow blindly. However, I promise to confer with you in private about anything I disagree with you on.”

     “I couldn’t have asked for more,” Jace said.

     Thunder narrowed her eyes, grinning slightly. “Well, you could’ve, but you wouldn’t have got it.”

     “Good night,” Jace said, turning and exiting through the door. He stopped a few steps down the corridor and bit his bottom lip in thought. Taking a deep breath, he moved on.

     Ryvo rolled out of the bed in the guest quarters he’d been assigned. Unlike hotel rooms, luxury liner staterooms and his own cabin on the ‘seeker, the room was very spartan. He didn’t mind, though. This wasn’t vacation. In fact, it was anything but that.

     As he showered, he thought about how he’d wound up in this situation in the first place. It didn’t take a wild imagination to conclude that his dead cousin, Pawl, was responsible. Somebody was needed to set the bait for Reno, and Ryvo was it. TOS captured their prey, while Pawl got a measure of vengeance on Ryvo. It was a sensible deal for all parties involved, save for the victims.

     Ryvo thought about Pawl’s motivations for revenge. Motivations that split the entire family into two sides, turning them into blood enemies.

     Ryvo was young at the time. One night at a family gathering, his uncle Brettu had announced that his sons would be leaving for the Imperial Academy. Imperial presence on Kiffu had been growing, and it had shown. Visible stormtrooper patrols, interference in local government, all the niceties of Imperial occupation. There had basically been three types of people on the planet: those who would profit by collaborating, those who would live under Imperial rule, hoping for the best, and those who would resist.

     Brettu, the prefect-commissioner of Wytai, had made his choice clear by sending his sons off to Carida as a sign of allegiance. He was very charismatic, and no doubt had his sons willing to go. That charisma also won over most of the family regarding the Empire.

     But not Ryvo.

     Ryvo had a group of friends who were talking about resistance. They were young, inexperienced, and stupid. They began terrorizing the Imps. Polluting water lines to the garrison base, disrupting planetside communications, relatively innocent stuff. Ryvo had told his father about the resistance group and their work. While he didn’t like it, he also didn’t care to live under the Empire’s heel, so he didn’t forbid Ryvo’s actions. If Brettu had found out, Ryvo knew, he would have turned him in without thinking twice.

     It wasn’t until the group began to mine roads to the base, slice into the Imperial network, and attack patrol parties that they came to the attention of the Rebel Alliance. A man made contact with them and offered help with organizing resistance cells, providing minimal munitions and combat training. The group had accepted his offer, becoming part of a cell network in Alliance Intelligence. Since Ryvo constantly traveled back and forth from Kiffu to Celanon, the agent had referred him to the Alliance military.

     He asked for his father’s approval to join the Alliance and prepared to leave for boot camp. But there was one problem he had had to deal with before he left. With Brettu’s sons in the Imperial Navy, and heirs to Brettu’s position as prefect-commissioner, it put Wytai and Kiffu as a whole in a tight situation. Using his slicing skills, Ryvo implicated Brettu’s sons in a spice-selling ring in Wytai. They were returned to Kiffu to be tried in court. Brettu tried to get an Imperial pardon for his sons, which was all but an admittance of guilt. The trial was short and decisive. The defense couldn’t bounce back from the testimony of the state’s star witness Ryvo Lorell. Pawl and Varrel were sentenced to twenty years in prison.

     Brettu was furious. He claimed it was all an elaborate setup by Ryvo to become the heir to his office. The family took sides, most of them on Brettu’s side, if only for fear of retribution. Ryvo convinced his parents to permanently relocate to Celanon and then headed for an Alliance safeworld training center. He didn’t see Pawl until the day on MH-JL. How he got out of prison and became the first officer on the SSD Ryvo didn’t know.

     But Pawl was dead now. Luckily, the news that Ryvo was his killer wouldn’t likely reach the rest of the family, for it would only raise the tension between the two familial factions. 

     Ryvo stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He smiled to himself. His time in the Alliance had been fun, if dangerous. After boot camp and aptitude tests, they sent him to Tierfon fighter base to become a pilot. Life as a fighter pilot had many rewards. Excitement. Glory. Women. Shortly after Endor, he was assigned to an operation to liberate Kiffu of Imperial influence.

     During a brutal battle, the Imperial garrison base was attacked and secured. The few ships the Imps had in space were seized or destroyed. Of course, Brettu had gone on holovision and applauded the attack, pledging his support to the newly proclaimed New Republic. Local and New Republic authorities were wary of his intentions, considering his hobnobbing with the Empire, but took no actions against him.

     Soon after, Ryvo resigned his commission in the Alliance, bought a ship, and became a freelance businessman. He had told himself that his goal of freeing his homeworld had been accomplished, and it was time to move on. Life had been great since then. Up until a few weeks ago, when TOS had contacted him, informing him of terrifying news.

     Throwing on some casual wear, he went to the comm panel and hit some switches. When there was no answer, he punched a few more buttons, locating Skate. Training Room 1134, the screen displayed.

     Ryvo pulled his long hair back into a ponytail and tied it, then left his cabin. As he made his way through the passageways, he couldn’t help but feel odd. Men in modified Imperial uniforms passed him by. Imperial officers’ uniforms dyed crimson, naval troopers the same, including their domelike helmets. At certain blast doors, there were stormtroopers standing at attention with crimson helmets, shoulder plates and boots. For someone who had spent a lot of time on Alliance ships, it was an eerie feeling. But he knew the men’s loyalty was to Reno, not to the Empire.

     He entered a turbolift with a tech and a droid.

     “Deck eleven,” the Kiffar said after the other two occupants announced their destinations.

     He exited the lift into a wide hallway with very few pedestrians. He easily located room 1134 and entered. Inside, Skate held a stick approximately the length of her larger lightsaber. She was dueling with a droid, which had a rapier of its own. Double gripping her own makeshift sword, she feinted right, and came around in a sweeping circle to her left, going for the droid’s legs. The droid jumped back surprisingly fast and slashed at Skate with a fast overhead swing. She blocked it easily and came at the droid in an alternating left and right attack pattern, as she had done to Ryvo on Trinta. Backpedaling, the droid parried her strikes. After four cycles of the left-right permutation, she repeated the right swing twice. The droid fell for her deception, and was hit on his left shoulder. Skate stepped back, panting heavily, as the droid shut down.

     “A Trang Duelist Elite,” Ryvo said. “I’m impressed.”

     “With the droid or my skills?” Skate asked without turning around.

     “I was referring to the droid, but believe me, my admiration of your combat prowess goes without saying,” Ryvo said, taking a few steps further into the gymnasium. “It’s just that the Duelist is a very rare and expensive droid.”

     Skate nodded. “Yeah. Reno picked it up somewhere. Told us not to use lightsabers on it.”

     “With good reason. It’s a very valuable droid. It can learn your technique and use that knowledge in future fights.” Ryvo looked at the droid. “Obviously, this one isn’t too experienced.”

     “No, he isn’t,” Skate agreed. She shifted her feet. “Was there something you wanted, Ryvo?”

     “I was hoping to get some training in with you.”

     “No offense, but I pretty much train alone.” She gave Ryvo a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”

     Ryvo shrugged. “That’s okay. I fully understand. I can wait until my next lesson. How about we have some lunch or dinner together?”

     Skate sighed. “That sounds good, but I can’t. As part of my reprimand for running off on my little quest, Jace is making me paint a few thousand trooper helmets. For the foreseeable future, I’ll be hard pressed to do much of anything else in my free time.”

     “All right. Just contact me when you’re ready for my next session.”

     “I will,” Skate promised.

     Ryvo turned to leave, but stopped short and looked back at her. “One more thing, Skate.”

     “Yes?”

     “You look great in sweat.” He gave her roguish grin. “See ya.”

     Skate only smiled impishly as he left.

     What with his plans with Skate foiled, Ryvo decided to go check on his ship.

     On his way to the hangar, he wondered if Skate had only wanted to get rid of him. It was possible that she’d grown tired of seeing him, as they’d spent the last several days together training, strategizing, talking, generally getting to know each other. Perhaps that was the reason she wanted to keep away from him…she had gotten to know him better.

     Ryvo shunned that thought. He knew that Skate was the type to tell him to his face that she wanted him to stay away from her, were that the case. She was a straight shooter. He liked that in her, along with mostly everything else about her. It was just that he’d become accustomed to spending most of his time with her over the last week. Now it felt like something was missing. At least he’d have something to look forward to, aside from the hopeful eventual rescue of his parents.

     Flashing the ID badge he’d been given at the two troopers guarding the hangar entrance, he entered. A few techs and droids walked or rolled around some shuttles and smaller vessels, but other than that, the hangar was devoid of life.

     Once on board the Thrillseeker, he powered up the communications station. He logged on to a server he subscribed to and checked his messages. He instantly noticed one from Garien Lorell, his father. The subject read “FOR YOUR EYES ONLY” and indicated that it was an A/V recording and encrypted, accessible only by retina scan and voice authorization.

     Ryvo frowned, not knowing what to make of it. He called up the message, waited for the retinal scanner to confirm his identity and sat back. When the video screen flared to life and the recording stared, his heart almost stopped.

     Xanthis, apprentice to Darth Zarin, stood in all his glory; empty eye sockets, long flowing cape, arms crossed.

     “Ryvo Lorell,” his voice boomed. “I will make this simple. I have something you want, and you can do something I need to be done. I know you are with Sith Squadron. Did you really think you could hide the fact that you aided, even abetted them? Even though our plans to take over the SSD were thwarted, we may yet have a chance to destroy it. At the same time, you may be able to make amends for your actions. There are two devices aboard the stolen Strike cruiser Sith Squadron obtained at the TOS prison planet. They are S-thread tracking devices. The attached text to this message will inform you of their locations. Leave one aboard the Strike cruiser. Place one aboard the SSD. Activate them, we arrive, take our ship back and/or annihilate Sith Squadron once and for all. Choose not to activate them, and your parents die.”

     The screen went blank.

     Ryvo sat back, not knowing what to think, what to feel. How TOS found out Ryvo had assisted Sith Squadron was not important—and there were myriad ways they could have. The implications of Xanthis’ blackmailing were the key issue at hand. If Ryvo complied, Sith Squadron would be destroyed. Refuse to cooperate and his parents would die.

     A cold chill ran through Ryvo’s body when he wondered if they weren’t already dead. Xanthis could be using Ryvo’s ignorance of their deaths as a bargaining tool. Still, he couldn’t go on that pessimistic theory, as long as there was still a chance they were alive.

     What do I do?

     He ran every factor, every scenario through his head, and every time, there was at least one constant; they all lead to his downfall. If he chose to help TOS, there was a good chance Sith Squadron would be destroyed. If that were to occur, Ryvo had every doubt that Xanthis would honor his side of the…deal? Bargain? What was it exactly? Xanthis hadn’t said anything about releasing Ryvo’s parents. For all he knew, Xanthis would have Ryvo hunted down and killed after being used as a pawn.

     What if TOS attacked Sith Squadron, but failed? Ryvo would be revealed as a double crosser, and they would wind up wanting him dead. But if he ignored Xanthis’ threat, his parents would die.

     There had to be another way.

     He stared in thought at the console for a long time, then prepared to send out a message.

     Skate entered the conference room to find most of the squadron already assembled. Jace stood leaning on the table, staring straight ahead, while the rest engaged in small talk. Skate hunkered down next to Jen.

     “I wonder if Ryvo is coming,” Skate said.

     “I doubt it,” Jen said, turning to face her. “Jace has deemed this meeting ‘highly classified.’”

     Skate pondered that for a moment. “He doesn’t trust Ryvo.”

     “Neither do I,” the Corellian woman said. “Do you?”

     “Yes and no.”

     Jen pursed her lips. “Don’t get me wrong, from what I can tell, he’s a great guy. There’s just something about him that screams…”

     “Untrustworthy?” Skate finished the sentence.

     “Yeah.”

     Skate nodded. “I fully understand.”

     Just then, Rick burst into the room, panting.

     Jace straightened. “Now that everyone is here, we can finally start.”

     Rick looked to Jace, open-mouthed. “Oh, I was just—“

     “Sit,” Jace commanded.

     The boy smartly complied.

     “Good dog,” Jen said, eliciting a few laughs.

     Jace turned to Jen. “Save the offbeat shenanigans for some other time, Jen. Now, first I’d like to start off with reports from the interrogations. Beginning with…Thunder.”

     The Adumari woman looked up. “I got no useful information from any of the thirty-two I interviewed.”

     Jace waved his hand in a circle. “Useful information meaning…”

     “Baron Reno’s whereabouts, for one.”

     Jace turned to Jen.

     “Nothing useful, but I did find out something interesting from an Illodian man,” Jen said, raising her eyebrows. “Did you know that on Illodia, they call Illodian rum…rum?”

     Jace flicked his eyes to Seven. “Seven?”

     As it went, nobody reported having acquired any information that could be used as a lead to the main TOS base or Reno’s location. Then it was Jace’s turn.

     “As you all may or may not know, I questioned the captain and most of the bridge crew,” the Tatooine native said, walking around the table slowly. “The captain said he knew nothing about Reno—or who Reno was, for that matter—or where the TOS base was. He said the only reason he knew the location of the TOS prison base was because he was contacted directly by Xanthis to head there and assist in its defense. I believed him. But not before probing his mind until he died. For all you sadists, you can watch it on file Jace Eye-Four-Nine-Three-Eight. Xanthis isn’t stupid. He’s not going to give out sensitive information to anyone, only those who need it. His highest officers and advisors, and…droids.

     “For some reason, I thought Xanthis might have hidden coordinates to all TOS assets in a some droids, so in case of an emergency they could take the ships back to base. Or perhaps those droids we captured had served on other TOS ships that had been to some of the bases. So I actually went about torturing droids. How do you torture a droid, you ask? Threaten it with a memory wipe? Hit it with a DEMP gun on low power? Yank off its limbs? Well, none of that worked. Droids are programmed not to reveal secret data. It’s hardwired into them. So, we go to Plan B.”

     “Which would be?” Jen prompted.

     “It has recently been discovered that Ryvo Lorell has the ability to read things telemetrically. He can take an object and psionically read the past events that happened to or around it. I won’t go into details; get with Thunder for more information. Anyways, we will have Ryvo test some items for clues. Namely, General Veego’s uniforms.”

     “Sounds like a long shot,” Palin pointed out.

     “That’s putting it lightly,” The Bothan Narska Plo’kre said.

     Jace held his hands up. “It is a long shot. There might not be snow’s chance in the Dune Sea that he’ll find anything. He can’t control this power. It’s new to him. But it’s all we’ve got. More than that…there’s also the chance this is a hoax. He could be luring us into a trap.”

     “Come on,” Skate said. “I am his friend and I don’t fully trust him, either, but I don’t think he’s leading us into a trap. We’d sense it. And TOS has his parents.”

     Jace nodded. “Precisely. How do we know they haven’t agreed to release them once he’s lead us straight into their hands?”

     Skated huffed. “He described what happened to me when I was attacked in the alley on Kiffu…exactly what happened.”

     “The validity of his newfound ability isn’t the issue,” Jace said. “Just that he may be using it to ensnare us.”

     “If this supposed telemetric skill is bogus,” Narska spoke up, “it brings up serious implications as to how Ryvo could describe—how did you put it—exactly what happened in the alley.”

     Skate leaned toward Narska. “Meaning what?”

     “I didn’t mean to infer that you are plotting with him, only that he may have been indirectly involved in the attack,” Narska said, spreading his arms.

     “We already know who hired the hit men, thanks,” Skate said, putting on a mock sweet smile.

     “And if I’m not mistaken, it was Ryvo’s cousin,” The Bothan said, a far away look on his face. “Blood is thicker than saliva.”

     “Enough,” Thunder cut in. “We’re straying from the point. Jace is right. There is a possibility that this could be a trap. What can be done to refute this?”

     “We could send a scout in first,” Seven suggested. “Maybe a probe droid.”

     “Good thinking, if only slightly flawed,” Palin said. “If the ambush force is waiting in the wings for our arrival, they wouldn’t jump out at a droid. Hence, we wouldn’t know there was an ambush until we got there.”

     “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to send in a droid, just to take a look around,” Jace said. “Anything else?”

     “Send him in first,” Narska said. “With a small group in a shuttle. Surely emotions will run wild if he is indeed guilty of deception.”

     Jace nodded. “That may be the preferred way of going in anyway. More on that later. Any objections to Narska’s idea?”

     “I’ve got to admit,” Thunder began, “It’s a pretty damned good idea.”

     Narska beamed. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment of high prestige.”

     Jace spoke up before Thunder could retaliate. “I want everyone to extrapolate upon this idea. Brainstorm on reasons why we should or shouldn’t bring the SSD in. Why a small team is or isn’t preferable. We’ll reconvene at eleven hundred hours tomorrow. Dismissed.”

     Skate rose to leave.

     “Skate,” Jace called.

     She spun to face him. “Hey, I’ve already painted over five hundred helmets—“

     “No, no, it’s not that.” Jace waved her over. “Have a seat.”

     By the time Skate sat herself, only Jace and Thunder were left in the room.

     “We have a mission for you,” Jace said.

     Skate had feared this. “What is it?”

     Jace looked over at Thunder, who spoke. “This may be difficult. We want you to get as close to Ryvo as you can. Determine his intentions and the like.”

     “I don’t have much time, considering my duty of turning helmets red.”

     “Forget about that,” Jace said. “Your punishment has been satisfied. I want you to focus on this.”

     “Do what you have to do,” Thunder said. “You are already spending a great deal of time with him. Spend more. Talk to him. Eat with him. Most importantly…drink with him.”

     Skate shrugged. “That’s not a problem. He’s been wanting more training.”

     “Skate, just don’t get too close to him,” Thunder said. “Wait. I just ordered you to do just that. I mean…keep your emotional distance. But don’t make it obvious you’re keeping your emotional distance.”

     “I’m so confused,” Skate said.

     Jace cleared his throat, throwing a look at Thunder. “What she means is don’t set yourself up to get hurt if Ryvo turns out to be a traitor.”

     “Or set myself up to choose between him and the Siths?” Skate added. “My allegiance is to you guys. Nothing will change that.” She looked down. “But if Ryvo would turn out to be a traitor…yeah, I’d be hurt. It’s too late to save myself from that.”

     “I thought you were sure he wasn’t deceiving us,” Jace said.

     “I am speaking hypothetically,” Skate answered.

     The stone-faced Tatooine native eyed her. “I just want to be sure I can count on you to carry out this assignment.”

     Skate met his stare. “If you had any doubts, why’d you come to me in the first place?”

     Thunder visibly tensed in the long pause that ensued.

     “Dismissed,” Jace finally said.

     Skate rose and strode from the conference room, feeling Jace’s eyes on her back like tractor beams.

     The command center was dark. So dark, in fact, that only light from screens at the computer stations lit the room to any significant effect. Silhouettes of hands could be seen moving over the squares of light. This was accompanied by a low hum of overlapping voices, not unlike those heard in thousands of bars across thousands of worlds. Glowing lines, green in color, marked paths to assist in walking due to the lack of light. All of those things combined to give the command center of the main TOS base an eerie, lygophobic feeling.

     Andell Kovares walked down the biggest of the green-bordered lanes. He internally steeled himself, but needed not have done so for his outward appearance. Andell always carried himself rigidly, stone-faced. By the time he reached the door at the end of the path, he was ready. Without hesitating, he pressed the door chime. It opened after a short pause, and he entered. It closed right behind him.

     If the command center had been eerie, then this room was downright horrific. A purple shaft of light swept around, lighting whatever it neared in the otherwise pitch-black room. This alone was not enough to evoke anxiety, but what the beam of light illuminated was enough to make those weak of stomach be sick; make those with strong stomachs work overtime not to.

     Andell was apparently in the latter group.

     The beam of light slashed through something fleshy. It was pale and thin. Then something larger, covered in fur. Something small and spiny. This continued for several more seconds, until the beam assumed a vertical position and vanished.

     “Shall I turn the lights on?” Xanthis voice boomed out, as if from the other side of a large basin.

     The question puzzled Andell, in that it was a question at all. Someone of Xanthis’ stature didn’t exercise courtesy with his underlings. It was a test, to see if Andell’s mettle was as strong as he made it out to be. He couldn’t disappoint Xanthis.

     “Yes, Lord,” Andell said.

     “Wrong answer,” Xanthis said immediately after Andell’s response.

     Andell didn’t know what to say. “My Lord?”

     “Lack of light means lack of vision for those beings which see in the visual spectrum on the electromagnetic scale,” Xanthis said. “You may or may not have noticed, but I don’t have any eyes.”

     Andell stayed silent.

     Xanthis moved. “Yet I see. No, this isn’t a typical, clichéd speech about how we have to overcome our handicaps. I wouldn’t mind having my eyes back. My real eyes. My point is that doing things in darkness puts everything into perspective. If you can do great things in light, they become even greater if they can be done in darkness.” Xanthis paused, and Andell remained silent still. “What have you to report?”

     “Still nothing from the tracking devices, Lord Xanthis,” Andell said. He turned to look around the dark room. “Can you be sure your message was received?”

     “I can and I am.” Xanthis’ voice seemed closer. “Can you be sure the location of our base is still a secret?”

     Andell shrugged, despite the darkness. “I killed Veego myself. I set the main computer to explode an hour after my departure.”

     “Can you be sure the computer was destroyed?” Xanthis asked. “Did you see it explode?”

     “No,” Andell said, choking on the word.

     “Can you be sure that Veego’s death was necessary?”

     “Yes,” Andell said without hesitation. “He wouldn’t leave. We were doomed. Surrounded. I told him we had to get away while we still had a chance. We might not have made it to the Strike cruiser, but we would have escaped from the system in his hidden shuttle.”

     “So you killed him and left.” Xanthis’ tone sounded half declarative, half accusing.

     “Yes, I did.”

     Xanthis didn’t say anything for several seconds, which felt like eons. “You did well.”

     “Thank you, my Lord.”

     “Veego was a moron. He allowed Ryvo Lorell to infiltrate the base and escape with Skate, moving our plans ahead of schedule before full processing could be achieved. He wouldn’t leave in the face of insurmountable odds. Besides being a moron, do you know what he was?”

     Andell had a few ideas, but kept them to himself. “What, my Lord?”

     “He was expendable.” Xanthis moved again, his footsteps clicking on the floor. “He was expendable, just like the droves of battle droids we have. Just like you. The only way to avoid being expended is to be more shrewd than your peers.”

     At a loss for words, Andell again refrained from speaking.

     “I appreciate your efforts,” Xanthis said, “but we’ve moved Reno away at Darth Zarin’s behest. Just to be safe.”

     “What of Lorell’s parents?”

     “Feh, they will remain here,” Xanthis said, and Andell could imagine a flick of the hand in dismissal. “They’re not very important prisoners at this point. Lorell’s role in all of this is almost complete. Once Sith Squadron has been neutralized, then the use of Lorell’s parents as blackmail will become obsolete. We will simply kill them. Then they won’t have Reno, and they won’t have Lorell’s parents. They won’t even have themselves.”

     “Understood.”

     Xanthis stayed silent for a moment. “Are the ships ready?”

     “Yes. The Last Dance and the Nail In The Coffin are set to move out upon order. The Terror of Space is, as usual, at your command.”

     “When they finally come through, we will only have two signals to read,” Xanthis said informatively, as if Andell was ignorant of the fact. “Assuming they advance on different headings, how will we determine which is our ship and which is the…SSD?” Xanthis said the name of the latter ship as if it were spoiled nerf milk in his mouth.

     Andell sighed internally. Everything was a test with Xanthis. “By their speed, Lord Xanthis.”

     “Yes,” Xanthis confirmed. “We will proceed as previously planned. Send the smaller ships after the faster of the signals. I will command the Terror of Space and go after the slower one.”

     “And if they travel together?”

     “Send all three,” Xanthis said, as if the answer were obvious.

     “Am I to go with the other ships?”

     “No,” Xanthis said. “You will remain here at the base, in case of an enemy scheme.”

     “And if an enemy scheme does occur?” Andell ventured.

     “Retreat,” Xanthis said. “But not before executing Lorell’s parents.”         

     Andell tensed slightly. “As you command, my Lord.”

     “Is there a problem?” Xanthis asked, as if sensing Andell’s sudden uneasiness.

     “I must admit there is, Lord Xanthis.” Andell paused shortly. “With most of the ships gone, we will be virtually defenseless in the event of an attack. Retreat may not be possible this time.”

     Xanthis’ tone became almost sly. “Then we return to the question…can you be sure our location is still a secret? And more importantly, can you be more shrewd than your peers?”

     “I can and I will, Lord,” Andell said boldly.

     “That is all.”

     Despite the darkness, again—or perhaps because of it, Andell genuflected modestly and left Xanthis in the dark.