Ryvo sat in his quarters with his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. He stared at the images on the holopad in front of him, but saw through them; through the wall behind them; through space for unimaginable distances. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread he was harboring in his innermost realm. It was like he was laying upward on the summit of mountain, with a bladed pendulum slowly descending toward him. But if he rolled one way to escape, an unending pit of pestilent vipers at the bottom of the mountain would devour him. If he rolled to the other, a sea of boiling water would cook him alive. There was nowhere to go. Nothing he could do but wait for his inevitable demise. Not even the combined athletics and theatrics of a weekly installment of Pro Wrestling Galaxywide could bring him out of his brooding. Nothing could.

     His door chime sounded.

     “Enter.”

     The door slid aside to reveal Skate. Ryvo instinctively smiled at her, but said nothing. She gracefully entered the room and the door shut behind her.

     “Hey, Ryvo,” she said. “What’s going on?”

     Ryvo, still a bit out of the loop, stood quickly. “Oh, nothing. Just watching some holovision.”

     Skate eyed the projections of the wrestling. “Ah. Men in tights rolling all over each other.”

     “There’s more to it than that—“ Ryvo started, arms spread, “—but that’s not important right now. What brings you to my humble abode?”

     Skate sat down in a chair and shrugged. “Company. Thought you might like to do some training.”

     “Jace let you off of your painting duties for a while?” Ryvo asked, raising his eyebrows.

     “Yeah,” Skate confirmed as Ryvo reseated himself. “Said my punishment has been satisfied.” Skate chuckled. “Were I a druggie, my cravings would be satisfied, too, what with the fumes and all.”

     Ryvo laughed. “But you’re not.”

     “No, I’m not,” Skate agreed. “I’m a drunk.”

     “Oh, can I get you something? Don’t have any Whyren’s, but there’s some Illodian rum here that’s top notch stuff.”

     “Sure.” Skate shrugged again. “Gotta drink something before we train.”

     Ryvo placed two glasses on the tabletop and poured the rum from the tall, twist-shaped bottle. “Around here, I’ve come to learn that you gotta drink something before you do anything.”

     “That’s about right.”

     Ryvo rose his glass to Skate’s and they clinked them together before partaking of the rum within. While Ryvo took a sip, Skate downed her entire glass of rum in one shot. Ryvo rattled his head in bewilderment.

     “So, tell me, Skate. What really brings you here?”

     Skate looked at him innocently, raising her glass for a refill. “I told you.”

     “I’ve been lying and lied to for far too long to fall for this,” Ryvo said, pouring more rum into Skate’s glass. He put a slight grin on. “No…I don’t want to call you a liar…that’s an insult. You’re probably just following orders. So, now…why are you here?”

     Skate sighed. “Ryvo, I told you—“

     “Skate.”

     This time Skate huffed. “All right. Jace and Thunder asked me to get closer to you and basically find out—or verify—what your true goals are.”

     It didn’t surprise him. “I see.”

     “It’s really not like that,” Skate said, shaking her head. “They just—“

     “I totally understand.” Ryvo spun his glass on the table. “Like I said before, I wouldn’t trust me, were I someone else.”

     Skate looked at him, as if she didn’t know what to say. Ryvo guessed that she felt guilty, perhaps embarrassed. He wished he could sense her feelings, as she could surely sense his. He wondered if she could sense the pain, fear and helplessness caused by the danger presented to his parents. He wondered if she could sense that he was hiding something from her, from everyone. He wondered if she could sense what he planned to do. He wondered if he should tell her, ask her for help. She was the only one that could give him any kind of useful assistance, after all. Meltdown had headed back to Kiffu with his crew, having turned down Jace’s offer to be head of the SSD’s motor pool. He had a local chapter of Dark Star Hellions to run. Benny Nedran and his band, including Ryvo’s cousin Jalia, were onboard, but while they were great musicians, he doubted they could offer him any viable help, except for that of the emotional sort.

     That brought him back to square one. He wondered if Skate would care. He felt so alone, and she was a glimmer of light in darkness, a gulp of oxygen in an airless void. If she turned a deaf ear to him, he would suffocate in the gloom.

     As if she had read his mind, she spoke. “What’s wrong?”

     “Skate…” Ryvo started, holding back tears. “I…need your help.”

     Skate looked confused. “With what?”

     “I am in deep shit, Skate.” Ryvo looked at her, his eyes watered. “Help me.”

     Skate moved closer to him and put her hand on his. “Tell me.”

     Ryvo’s heart fluttered a bit, and he looked down at their touching hands. He took a deep breath and began to divulge his dilemma.

     “Okay, I want to hear some ideas, people,” Jace said, sitting at the head of the conference table. “The more Whyren’s you drank last night, the better the ideas will probably be.”

     Seven cleared his throat. “I think that the factor of taking in SSD in depends on what the target is.”

     “Makes sense,” Jace agreed. “We obviously don’t want to cruise on into the hearts of the Obroa-skai or Taanab systems. But an outlying or lightly populated system wouldn’t be a problem.”

     “Sending in an advance team in a shuttle would be ideal in either situation,” Jen said. “The team could at least scope out what we’re getting into.”

     Jace nodded. “Or not getting into. Sounds like you’re volunteering, Jen.”

     “Me in a shuttle?” Jen asked incredulously. “I’ll go if I can follow in my snubbie.”

     “I think you can make an exception this time,” Jace said, giving Jen an admonishing look. “Anything else?”

     “Don’t forget that Ryvo must be on this team,” Narska said, leaning back in his chair.

     “No one is forgetting that,” Thunder said.

     Palin spoke up. “The sending in of this advance team seems to be a dangerous enterprise. Is it going to be on a volunteer basis?”

     “Besides Ryvo, you mean?” Narska asked.

     Thundered sighed sharply. “We get the point, Narska.”

     “Ah, but it was you who said it was a damned good idea,” Narska said, waving his furred arm in the air.

     “It is, but not one I’d care to hear repeated three dozen times.”

     Narska chuckled. “Perhaps that attitude would change if it had been your idea.”

     “It wasn’t the most ingenious idea anyone’s ever heard,” Jace said, his face rigid. “Someone would have come up with it eventually. Now, if anyone here doesn’t have anything constructive to say, then keep your jaws clamped.”

     Narska seemed to become calmer than he had been before, but he wore an ear-to-ear grin.

     “Now, Palin asked a good question,” Jace said. “Will the shuttle team consist of volunteers? It doesn’t take many to crew a shuttle. I want Jen there for sure, since she already volunteered. She’ll probably take Tyros along. I wouldn’t mind Skate going, for obvious reasons.” Jace flicked his eyes to Narska. “And Ryvo.”

     “That’s four,” Jen said. “We’ll call it a double date.”

     Jace pointed at her. “This date will take place in the cockpit, not in the crew cabins. Got it?”

     “Is there enough room in there? Four people…”

     “Moving on, let’s talk about what we’re going to do once the shuttle goes in,” Jace said. “Which brings us back to the question. SSD or no SSD? Which depends on the status of the star system in question. Which leads us to ask what we will do if it is indeed a heavily populated system. Which leads me to send in our guest.” Jace tapped a button on the table. “Send him in.”

     The door slid open and Ryvo Lorell entered. He took a seat at a vacant spot at the table.

     “Ryvo, outline your proposal to everyone,” Jace said.

     “Well, I think we’d be remiss if we passed up the chance to use the captured Strike cruiser. Not only is it a powerful vessel, but it has the potential to be used as a means of infiltration. If the location of the hostages is discovered, we can take the Strike cruiser in, posing as TOS agents who escaped with the ship.”

     “Far-fetched comes to mind,” Palin said.

     “He isn’t finished yet,” Jace said pointedly.

     “Not to mention I didn’t ask for any opinions,” Ryvo said, wearing an arrogant grin. “Yet. Now, we only need to get in close enough to launch fighters. If this big ship of theirs attacks, we call in the SSD. If it isn’t there—which is highly unlikely—then all the better. Once the fighters have disabled the shields and defenses, a few shuttles will launch, deploying troops. A battle will ensue, and hopefully we will rescue the hostages and escape with minimal casualties.”

     “Now may I comment?” Palin asked.

     Jace turned to her. “No.”

     “Why not?”

     Jace looked at her in surprise. “Because you did not raise your hand.”

     Palin raised her hand. “Now?”

     Jace nodded once.

     “This plan seems…suicidal,” Palin said. “There are way too many factors that we can’t figure in until we get there.”

     “That remains to be seen,” Ryvo countered.

     “What if the TOS base is in an inhabited system, as we mentioned earlier?” Seven asked ponderously.

     “That brings up Plan B,” Jace said. “I came up with the idea that we could go in on board the Strike cruiser posing as a mercenary group. We could use that cover while locating the base.”

     Thunder nodded. “Not a bad idea, but there are a finite amount of Strike-class vessels in non-Imperial hands. We will have to disguise it.”

     “Yeah, after we repair it,” Jace said. “It’s not exactly in tip top shape. The hyperdrive is in shambles. I’ve got Gimmer’s best men on the job.”

     “Don’t forget, we can’t disguise it until we find out where we’re taking it, be it an uninhabited or populated system,” Ryvo added. “The latter being less likely. How many bases has TOS had in populated systems?”

     “I think that is something you might know,” Narska said. “You’ve been to plenty of TOS bases.”

     Ryvo sighed. “There are two things I abhor in this galaxy; intolerance for other cultures…and Bothans.”

     “All right,” Jace said, “we will go ahead with these plans and contingencies. Ryvo will go ahead with the telemetric reading as soon as he’s ready, which I stress should be soon. Watch your messages for further orders. Dismissed.”

     Jace stayed seated as the rest of the Siths began filing out of the room. He watched Skate approach Ryvo. The Kiffar gave her a deadpan look and they exited the room together.

     Jace bit his lower lip in thought.

     The carpet in Skate’s quarters felt soft and plushy to her bare feet as she rolled from her bed. She hit a small glow panel on the end table. It was just enough light to navigate the room without tripping or bumping into things. She made it to the closet and threw on an outfit and slipped her boots on. She called her lightsaber to her hand from the nightstand and clipped it on her belt. Combing her hair with her hands, she left her quarters.

     The corridor was empty. No surprise. This area of the ship was restricted and it was oh two hundred hours. The rest of the Siths were most likely passed out from drunkenness. The two guards at the door at the end of the corridor stood stone-faced as she passed between them. A subtle brush of the Force against their minds let her pass unnoticed. Not that her roaming the hallways at such an hour was totally out of the ordinary, but there was nothing wrong with taking precautionary measures.

     She entered an empty turbolift and took it to the appropriate level, debarked into a corridor that wasn’t quite as dead as the executive living area. She didn’t think it possible to shroud her presence from all of their minds, so she continued on looking as natural as she could. When she approached the airlock to the Strike cruiser, the two dome-helmeted guards saluted her. She nodded and they granted her access. They, like the guards in the hallway to her quarters, would retain no memory of her passing by.

     She went through the inner door and umbilical cord to the airlock on the other side. When she passed through it, she was in a dark hallway. Emergency lights lit the passage, and it curved off out of sight to either direction. Skate headed to her right, sensing for any beings on board. Far aft, she sensed several individuals. Luckily, her path wouldn’t cross theirs. Her pace picked up into a jog as she rounded several corners. Through a door, up a ladder, down a stairwell, and she came to a long corridor. She went towards one end and entered door on the right.

     The room was full of computer stations. Looking around, she found the appropriate one and kicked the access panel off. She reached her hand around inside until she found what she was looking for; two cylinders roughly the same size as her lightsaber hilt. She squeezed one into her boot and slipped the other into her sleeve. After replacing the access panel, she left the room and headed back the way she came.

     Halfway to the airlock, she stopped in a dark alcove and transferred the cylinder still in her sleeve to the secret hiding place she had made. The trip back to the SSD was without incident.

     Ryvo made his way down a corridor in one of the SSD’s lower decks. He was getting close to his destination, which made him worry about Skate meeting him at the rendezvous. She had a very short period of time to pick up the S-thread devices and meet him, so he hoped she had been able to do it. Using the access codes Skate had given him, Ryvo had set the probe droid launching systems to enter into a cycling diagnostic mode. The external sensors had been programmed to register interference from Trinta’s magnetic fields. It wasn’t a perfect, but by the time the SSD’s crew had surmised what had actually happened, the plan would be complete. He tried to slow his pace a bit, and not long after, Skate rounded the corner ahead to the right.

     Ryvo smiled. “You up late, too?”

     “Yeah,” Skate replied, dragging out the word.

     When Ryvo passed right next to her, he straightened his arm toward the ground and opened his hand. Skate, using telekinesis, moved the S-thread cylinder from her boot to Ryvo’s hand. He closed his hand tight around it, and casually slipped it into his jacket’s front pocket-pouch.

     From there, they would make their way to probe droid launchers, relatively far from each other. This would be much simpler for Skate. As if Ryvo’s thoughts had dictated it, a security guard rounded the corner, a hovering sentry droid behind him.

     Ryvo, hoping the guard wouldn’t question him, didn’t give him so much as a glance.

     “Hold there,” the guard said, raising a hand.

     “Yes? Ryvo said cheerfully.

     “You’re nearing a restricted area, sir. May I see some ID?”

     Ryvo knew that the droid had a cam and maybe even a blaster cannon. This would have to be dealt with in a much more subtle way. He eyed a door behind the security guard.

     “You’ve really got to go,” Ryvo said, pointing at the door.

     “I’ve really got to go?” the guard repeated. He looked down, back up, his eyes wide. “I’ve really got to go!”

     The guard ran into the refresher. The spherical droid, programmed to follow him, wasn’t far behind. Ryvo grinned and continued on, at a hurried pace. After a few turns, he had made it to his designated launch tube. It was a round door, about a meter in diameter. Punching in the access code, the door opened for him. He activated the S-thread tracker and closed the door. He found the proper port and plugged his datapad in. It didn’t take long to program the hyperspace pod’s destination and speed, and that was a good thing. The diagnostic cycle cover wouldn’t last forever. Taking a deep breath and mentally crossing his fingers, Ryvo launched the pod. No alarms went off, so that had to be a good sign.

     Hopefully, TOS wouldn’t pick up the signals until the pods were well away from the SSD’s current location. That depended on how good their HoloNet access was and how many S-threads the pod passed through on its course. Since S-threads were still uncommon, as the New Republic hadn’t rested full control of the HoloNet from the Empire, that point was on Ryvo’s side.

     Not thirty minutes after Ryvo had hit his bed, he received a call. Rolling over, he hit the button.

     “Yeah?”

     “Jace here. Please come to the conference room.”

     Damn. “Now?”

     “Yeah, right now.”

     “On my way.”

     Ryvo hit the intercom button again. This couldn’t be good. Then again, if Jace had learned of what he and Skate had done, he’d be at the door with armed troops. Perhaps Jace only suspected, after learning of the questionable probe droid and sensor cover-ups. Still…if he suspected, he’d be at the door with armed troops.

     Ryvo shrugged and jumped out of bed. He threw on some clothes and made his way to the conference room. When he entered, Jace sat at his usual spot. Nobody else was in the room. Several items lay on the table.

     “What’s going on?” Ryvo asked.

     “It is time.”

     “Oh…the telemetric reading,” Ryvo said, inwardly relieved.

     “I thought it best to do it alone, so I may monitor you more effectively.”

     Ryvo frowned and took a seat. “Monitor me?”

     “In case anything goes wrong.”

     “You don’t trust me,” Ryvo said.

     “I don’t trust anyone, if that makes you feel better,” Jace said, stiffly shrugging. “Don’t get me wrong. I like you. You’re a cool guy. You helped us out a lot. You had your own reasons to help us, but…”

     “What do you mean I had my own reasons?” Ryvo asked in a mildly defensive tone. “TOS has my parents? Is that the only reason you think I’m doing this?”

     Jace gave a rare chuckle. “Oh, I am sure that is most of it. After all, they’re your parents.”

     “But…” Ryvo prompted.

     “But, didn’t you risk life and limb to rescue a certain member of this squadron?”

     Ryvo leaned back, everything becoming clear. “You think I’m aiding you because of Skate?”

     “It just seems to me that if you could have rescued her, you could have gotten Reno out of there just as easily,” Jace said plainly.

     “Seems that way, doesn’t it?” Ryvo agreed. He sighed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I admit it…I am…interested in Skate. But you can ask her yourself; I checked for Reno at that base, but they had already moved him long before.”

     “Again, I am not questioning your actions, just your timing.”

     “Hey, Reno wasn’t my closest friend, but I enjoyed doing business with him,” Ryvo said. “And I am really interested in exploring my Force potential. Before I met you guys, I had nobody to do this with. I just didn’t feel for him what I feel for Skate to make me throw caution to the wind and launch such a bold rescue, if you know what I mean.”

     “I can understand that,” Jace said.

     “Good,” Ryvo said.

     Jace stared at him for a long time. “So can we find Reno?”

     “That remains to be seen.” 

     “We must find Reno.” Jace stood. “His return is imperative. Every day, every hour, every minute he is gone, his return becomes less likely. Time is wasting, and I am tired of waiting. So let me tell you this. If this telemetric skill you supposedly possess turns out to be bogus, I will burn your skin off with my lightsaber before impaling you and displaying your carcass for those who would dare even attempt to deceive Jace Sidrona to see.”

     Ryvo felt his skin crawl. He had never seen Jace this emotional.

     Jace raised his chin. “Is that clear?”

     “As Tatooine’s skies.”

     Jace, still standing, stared at him a moment longer, then dropped a cloak on the table. “This was Veego’s.”

     “I thought I smelled something,” Ryvo said.

     “So, what do you need to do?” Jace asked, sitting back down.

     “Well…when I had the first vision, I was thinking of all the things in the galaxy that piss me off, looked at Skate as if she were those things, and it just happened.”

     Ryvo took the cloak in his hands and began to think of all the anger-inducing things in his life. He tried to make them tangible; something he could grab and choke. Something like the cloak he held.

     Nothing happened.

     He tried again with more intensity, his eyes closed, his teeth gritted.

     Still, he saw nothing but blackness.

     He opened his eyes, and felt beads of sweat on his forehead.

     “Did you see anything?” Jace asked, almost excitedly.

     “No,” Ryvo said, wiping a sleeve across his forehead.

     Jace leaned back, disappointed. “It looked like you were working hard there.”

     “I was.”

     “Then why didn’t it work?” Jace asked.

     Ryvo reached for his jacket pouch. “Here, let me get out my telemetrics handbook.”

     “Maybe the conditions are different than your first vision,” Jace said, obviously unimpressed with Ryvo’s sarcasm.

     “Entirely possible,” Ryvo said. “We were dueling, and that is something that’s a lot easier to channel anger into than sitting here like a tailor sewing a cloak.”

     “Be careful,” Jace said. “I know a dangerous tailor who could hold his own against a stormtrooper platoon, provided he started with their backs to him.”

     Ryvo ignored the comment. “Why don’t we have a duel, then? We can try and recreate the conditions of my first vision.”

     “I have a better idea. We can go down to the gym and you can duel with a droid.”

     “Come on, Jace, you and me, sword to sword,” Ryvo said, moving his hands as if holding a sword.

     “No. A droid. Let’s go.”

     Ryvo, highly disappointed, followed Jace from the room. He wished Jace had agreed to a duel. There was nothing like testing one’s abilities, and Jace was an accomplished swordsman. Oh well, perhaps another time.

     Jace’s private gym was filled with the best equipment the galaxy had to offer. None of the fall-apart stuff from late night infomercials. Some of it had to be custom built, Ryvo observed. Jace directed the Duelist Elite that they had picked up from the main gym.

     “Grab a stick there,” Jace said, nodding to the sticks on a wall rack.

     “Hey, nice assortment,” Ryvo said, assessing the sticks, which were of different sizes and styles from all throughout the galaxy. “I’m a big weapons collectors myself.”

     “So I hear,” Jace said impatiently. “Pick one.”

     Ryvo grabbed a generic looking fighting cane and tested its weight. He put himself in a battle stance and nodded the okay to Jace. The Tatooinian tossed him Veego’s cloak.

     “Put that on.”

     “Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Ryvo said, reluctantly pulling on the cloak. “I just wish we could have run it through the launderer first.”

     “Ready?”

     Ryvo nodded, and Jace activated the droid. It raised its sword and circled with Ryvo. The Kiffu repeated the routine, this time trying to amplify his anger. He pictured his uncle Brettu’s face over the droid’s and struck. Block, slash, block, sweep, block…and nothing happened. The Duelist came back at Ryvo with an onslaught of strikes, which were all parried smoothly.

     When Ryvo prepared to counterattack, the droid suddenly dropped its defense. Ryvo looked over at Jace, who was holding the remote control.

     “It’s not working,” Jace said.

     “No, it isn’t,” Ryvo agreed. He felt as though Jace’s anger were a heat wave, directed directly at him, like standing over a fire. There was no doubt Jace thought this whole telemetrics thing was a ruse.

     Jace continued to glare at Ryvo for several more seconds before speaking. “We can try one more thing. I will channel my anger to you. Maybe that will amplify your own and somehow trigger the memories.”

     “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble doing that,” Ryvo said.

     Jace narrowed his eyes. “Get ready.”

     Another short round of clashing resulted in another failure.

     Ryvo dropped his stick and looked over at Jace, whose face was stone.

     Jace raised a comlink to his mouth. “Two, Lead.”

     Andell descended the dark stairwell to what had collectively become known to TOS agents as The Dungeon. The stairwell itself was not much more flattering. Moss and fungus seemed to multiply every meter lower towards the dungeon. This made the stairs increasingly slippery, and with no handrail and one hand being used to carry a luma, it made for a difficult walk.

     The dungeon master, a strange man named Uts, admitted Andell. The dungeon was even darker than the command center, so it took Andell several moments to find the prisoner chute. When he did, he opened it with a creak and grabbed the package inside. He then made his way through the winding corridors, ignoring the screams of agony and despair, to the appropriate cell. He unlatched and opened the huge door with an even louder creak, threw the package in and locked the door back up.

     “What is it?” a voice asked from inside the cell.

     “Something to eat,” Andell answered.

     “I’ve had enough of that slop.”

     “It’s something better. It was just cooked.”

     Andell heard the sound of the package being picked up.

     “How do I know it’s not poisoned or something?”

     “Even if it is—and I assure you it’s not—it’s better than what we’ve been serving you.”

     There was a pause. “I can’t disagree with you on that. It smells good. But how can I trust you?”

     “Come on, I moved your wife to your cell, didn’t I?”

     “That you did,” the voice said in a tone mixed of suspicion and defeat. “But what is this all about? Why are we here? Is this Brettu’s doing? Please tell me.”

     Andell sighed quietly. “I can’t.”

     “Why?”

     “Because telling you that would—“

     “No, I mean why this sudden surge of mercy?”

     “I’m just trying to make you as comfortable as possible,” Andell said.

     “Why?!”

     Andell sighed again, this time more loudly. “I’ll be honest with you, this could very well be the last meal you eat. But tomorrow’s could be, too. Or next week’s.”

     “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you doing this?”

     “I ask myself that every time I come down here,” Andell replied, more to himself. “I’ve got to go. Enjoy your meal.”

     “Wait,” the prisoner called after him. “Do you have my son, too? If you don’t, he will come for us and it will be you who die. I am telling you this because I am trying to return your mercy.”

     Andell had stopped in the corridor. “Enjoy your meal,” he repeated before continuing on, reflecting on the irony that the prisoners’ son attempting a rescue be the first step into the grave for them.

     Jace narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Let me get this straight, just so I can be sure I’m hearing you right. You think Trinta may be the site of a…dark side nexus?”

     “That’s right,” Thunder nodded.

     “Now I’m not calling you a liar, but I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

     Thunder sighed heavily. “You’ve got to stop thinking so empirically, Jace. A dark side nexus is an area literally permeated with the dark side. Some say they lure people to them. Others say they can all but control those who come within their realm. Still others claim that they are pure evil and should be avoided at all costs.”

     Jace absorbed the information, and nodded. “Keep going.”

     “There is at least one text that claims the nexuses are sources of pure, raw Force energy,” Thunder said. “Whatever the case, all texts agree that they are extremely rare. Jace, this could be the find of the century.”

     “I did feel drawn to the planet when we first scouted it months back,” Jace admitted. “But what makes you so sure?”

     “I think Ryvo tapped into the nexus when he was dueling with Skate. Ryvo’s latent Force ability isn’t very strong—“ she looked at Ryvo “no offense—but I think he may have been so filled with anger and determination that it triggered his inborn telemetric skill. It explains why he can’t summon the power now.”

     Jace mulled over that a bit, then looked to Ryvo. “Do you remember where you and Skate landed down there?”

     “I’m sure I can find it,” Ryvo said, shrugging. “We can bring Skate to—“

     “Just the three of us,” Jace cut him off. “I am sure we can zero in on this thing, given its strength.” He gave Ryvo, then Thunder a conspiratorial look. “And let’s keep this dark side nexus thing to ourselves. At least for now.”

     Ryvo shrugged again. “Okay by me.”

     “Then let’s get down there and outdo Thunder here’s assertion that this thing is the find of the century by using it to make the find of the millennium…Reno.”

     They had set the shuttle down in one of the most decrepit parts of the planet, which spoke volumes, as Trinta’s best were far worse than most planets’ worst. Humid, dark, boggy and miserable the best words Ryvo could come up with to describe it. Neither Basic—nor any other language he could speak—had the words to apply to this hellish nightmare.

     He followed behind Thunder, with Jace leading through the marsh, all three hacking vines that blocked their path, the two Siths with lightsabers, Ryvo with a machete he had picked up somewhere along his travels. He knew they were close to where he had had his first psionic vision; perhaps within a 200-kilometer radius. But the closer they got to wherever it was that Jace was leading them, the swamp seemed to get that much more unpleasant.

     As if he’d sensed Ryvo’s thoughts, Jace suddenly spun around and spread his arms wide. “Can you feel it? This is exhilarating. I can feel the Force as if it was sand wafting by from a light breeze…no…more like a sandstorm.”

     “I can feel it,” Thunder said, her eyes closed and her head bowed to the ground.

     Jace surprised Ryvo by letting out a short laugh. It was more like saying “ha” three times than actually laughing, but this was Jace, whom Ryvo couldn’t recall ever even smiling. Then Jace surprised Ryvo again, along with Thunder this time, by spinning around again, throwing both arms into the air. A dozen or more large-trunked trees slammed to the ground, and several adjacent ones bent, as if hit by a hurricane.

     “If I wasn’t sure about this earlier, I am now,” Jace said, surveying his work.

     Ryvo looked from Jace to Thunder, who was still looking at the ground, as if she hadn’t seen or heard any of Jace’s actions or words.

     “Thunder?” Jace called, more annoyed than concerned.

     She didn’t answer, but held a hand up in a signal to wait. Ryvo turned to Jace, who met his gaze and looked back to Thunder without so much as a shrug. Then it got real weird. First Thunder formed a faint white glow around her, making her appear to be a specter. In the span of one second, the glow engulfed her in white and she vanished, as if disintegrated by standing in the nozzle of a heavy turbolaser cannon fired on full power.

     “What happened?” Ryvo asked.

     Jace didn’t answer. He only stared intently at where Thunder had been standing.

     “Jace? Where is she?”

     “Right here.”

     Both Ryvo and Jace spun around to find Thunder standing about five meters away. Jace’s surprised expression turned to one of angered bewilderment. When Thunder didn’t say anything, Jace spread his arms.

     “Care to offer an explanation?”

     Thunder smiled wryly. “Teleportation.”

     “Palpatine’s shit,” Ryvo cursed. “I thought you had died. I have heard stories of Jedi dying and then simply disappearing.”

     “Those stories are true,” Thunder said. “But it’s not what happened to me, obviously.”

     “Well, then, how do you do that disappearing thing when you die?” Ryvo asked. “Now that I know I have the Force, I’d like to put it to good use, like disappearing after my death. Don’t want to burden my family with funeral fees and all.”

     Jace shook his head. “You’ll have to wait two years to find out how to do that. But Thunder, what I want to know is how you teleported like that.”

     “It’s something I’ve been working on for a long time now,” she said. “I thought this Force boost we’re experiencing might give me the power I needed to actually do it. I was right.”

     Jace only nodded once, staring at Thunder. Ryvo thought he saw something that resembled jealousy in Jace’s eyes. It wasn’t the playground type where one child would become angry over another’s ability to swing all the way across the bars without falling. This was something much deeper, with malice added to it. Was this just a simple power struggle, or was it something more personal? Ryvo did not know, but he noted the incident in the back of his head for possible future analysis if anything else came of it.

     “You said you want to put the Force to good use,” Jace said to Ryvo. “Well, I say a good use is finding Reno fast. Let’s move on.”

     Ryvo nodded and the trio moved on, but a certain tenseness still hung in the air, not unlike to musty fog that surrounded them. They went another fifty meters or so, and Jace stopped.

     “This is good enough,” he said. “The dark side is so powerful here you might not even have to attack anything.”

     “Where’s the fun in that?” Ryvo asked. “Toss me a lightsaber.”

     Jace glared at him. “Just try it. Thunder, coach him.”

     “Coach him? How am I supposed to know what to tell him?”

     “You know more about it than I do,” Jace said in an almost mocking tone.

     Thunder silently assented and Ryvo took a deep breath, adjusting Veego’s cape on his shoulders. He slapped his right fist into his left palm and gritted his teeth. Clenching his eyes shut, he filled himself with anger. To do so, he had to think of people and things that made him angry. People that he wished he could crush as if he were an ogre from Kiffar myth. Pawl and Varrel. Brettu. Imperial subjugation. Punks on Shesharile 5 vandalizing his ship. Veego. Terrors of Space. XANTHIS!

     There he stood with his black cloak and empty eye sockets. Fear was in the air around him as techs and guards in his vicinity did their best to not draw attention to themselves.

     “Have the prisoners been transferred?” the dark lord’s voice roared, drowning out the miniscule sounds of key hits and station pings around him.

     “As we speak, Lord Xanthis,” Ryvo said, although his voice didn’t sound like his own. “They’re being moved through airlock B.”

     “You’re tardy in your duties,” Xanthis said, saying it as if it were a theory.

     “Only slightly, my Lord. Forgive me. It will be only five minutes more.”

     Xanthis raised his chin. “You should not give me exact figures, for I shall hold you to them.”

     “Yes, Lord.”

     “Have your contact on Reuss find a buyer,” Xanthis ordered. “I didn’t like the price the Nalroni got me for the last batch. We have an empire to build, after all. That takes credits.”

     Ryvo bowed his head. “Of course, Lord Xanthis. Forgive my deficiency in the handling of the situation. Your suggestion is an excellent one.”

     “Hold them on Bastille for the time being,” Xanthis said, turning to leave. “I must return to the Terror of Space.”

     “My Lord, may I inquire as to the purpose of your visit?” Ryvo asked. “We are honored, of course, but the holoprojector is in working order and I would have come to you without hesitation...”

     Xanthis turned back around to face Ryvo. He stayed there for several moments, his face almost forming a smile. Then he raised his gloved hand, and Ryvo fell to the floor, choking.

     “If there is one thing you should have learned by now, it’s that you never question me,” Xanthis said, as Ryvo still lay writhing on the ground, gasping for air. “But your boldness could be mistaken for stupidity, so you could not help it. It’s in your nature. But let this be a lesson…stupidity is not acceptable or tolerated in this organization. But feel fortunate, for this one time your stupidity saved your life.”

     Xanthis spun away and air rushed back into Ryvo’s lungs. He lay there, watching Xanthis’ back as he left the bridge.

     A bright flash of light washed over Ryvo’s vision and he found himself looking up into the foliage of Trinta’s murky environ. A hint of blue sky could be seen past the trees, past the thick fog and cloud cover. It took him a moment to realize that he was lying on his back. He looked to his left and found Thunder kneeling by his side, her lush brown hair hanging down. A glance to the left revealed the much less appealing visage of Jace.

     “Are you all right?” Thunder asked.

     Ryvo looked back to her. “What happened?”

     “You tell us. You were standing there and then you fell, coughing,” Jace answered.

     “I had a vision,” Ryvo said, his head clearing and his memory returning. Thunder and Jace waited patiently for him to continue. “Veego…talking to Xanthis.”

     “You were Veego, I assume,” Thunder said.

     “Yes.”

     Jace narrowed his eyes, but Ryvo couldn’t tell whether it was suspicion or interest. Probably both. “Anything useful?”

     Ryvo took a deep breath and let it out. “They were talking about Reuss. A contact on Reuss.”

     “Contact for what?” Jace asked, almost demandingly.

     “Something about selling some captives,” Ryvo answered, shrugging. “Probably slavers.”

     Jace seemed disappointed. He looked off into the swamp.

     “Why were you choking?” Thunder asked.

     Ryvo smiled. “Concerned?”

     “Interested,” Thunder replied, her face even.

     “Xanthis was choking me—choking Veego, that is. He said some stuff that Xanthis didn’t like.”

     Thunder nodded. “Did he use his hand or did he—“

     “That hardly matters,” Jace said, waving his hand in dismissal. “You’ve got to go back. You’ve got to find something we can use.”

     “Maybe we should let him rest,” Thunder suggested.

     Jace looked at Ryvo. “Do you want to rest?”

     “No.”

     Jace almost smirked triumphantly at Thunder. “Good.”

     “Because I’m not going back,” Ryvo finished.

     “What?” Jace asked.

     Ryvo shrugged. “Apparently this is a lot more dangerous than we thought—or rather didn’t think—it would be. We have the Reuss clue to go on. I’m not going to risk my life for something that may or may not work.”

     Jace stood and walked slowly away, head down in thought. “Of course you realize that this means the end of the investi—the hunt. We don’t find Reno. We don’t find your parents.” Jace stopped and turned halfway back around, looking into the marsh. “You’d think that their lives were honorable causes to risk dying for. Not die for…risk dying for.”

     “Look,” Ryvo said, chuckling disbelievingly, “I would very much like to see my parents again. I’d like to have kids and grow old. If something goes wrong in the next vision and I die, I won’t be able to tell you anything anyway. I won’t be able to live out my life to its full potential.”

     Jace, still not looking at Ryvo, waved his hand. “You could die tomorrow from a miscalculated hyperspace jump. Next week from a landspeeder accident.”

     Ryvo chuckled, this time genuinely amused at Jace’s futile manipulation. There was no way he was going to convince Ryvo to do it again. He would sooner go windsurfing on Yag’dhul. “Yes, but those are known risks. This is something unknown. We know nothing of these psionic flashbacks. It’s like Tusken Raiders dealing with hyperspace physics.”

     “They had to get to Tatooine some way,” Jace said, finally making eye contact.

     “I think they’re indigenous,” Ryvo said flatly.

     “They’re not,” Jace said, shaking his head. “If they were, then why do they have to wear masks and garb suited to protect them from the heat of the twin suns? They would have adapted like the hardy animal life on the planet.”

     “If they’re not, then where are their starships? The Sand People’s state of development doesn’t suggest that any ships would be significantly buried—“

     “Hey!” Thunder called out. “I think we’re straying from the point?”

     Ryvo turned to her. “No, I don’t think we are. Jace believes that the Sand People are from another planet, not Tatooine because they didn’t adapt to their environment. Well, I say they did. They were among the only animals on the planet intelligent enough to develop their own protection, along with the Jawas. Their population is small, dispersed. They did not multiply into huge numbers because many of them died…as they learned to adapt by making garments to protect them from the desert.

     “As far as we know, I am the only person we know of that has this telemetric power.” Ryvo looked to Thunder, who nodded confirmation. “So, it is unwise to rush into these visions, not knowing any details about them or how to control them. To do so would risk losing them forever. First I must use my intelligence—“ Ryvo tapped his head “—and adapt to them. Then I will live on. The power will live on. Just like the Tusken Raiders.”

     Jace only stared at him. Ryvo had no clue what was running through the Sith’s mind. Anger? Defeat?

     “Ryvo—“

     “I won’t do it, Jace,” Ryvo said firmly.

     Jace pointed fiercely at Ryvo. “Do it.”

     Ryvo’s eyes shut for a moment, then reopened. “Force suggestion only works on the weak of mind. We have the Reuss clue to start on—“

     “That is a sand mine and you know it,” Jace said, grinding his teeth so hard that Ryvo thought they might crack. “It will only waste valuable time.”

     “I have a contact or two on Reuss Eight,” Ryvo said. “We will make it work. We have to make it work.”

     Jace, whose face had gradually turned red, kept his ire-filled glare on Ryvo for only a moment longer, then trudged off toward the shuttle. Ryvo looked to Thunder, the innocent bystander in this war of wits, who shrugged and followed after Jace. Ryvo followed suit.

     “Hey, Jace?” Thunder called.

     “What?”

     “I told you the telemetric readings wouldn’t be overly problematic.”

     Jace growled in anger.

     Maybe not so innocent after all.

     Ryvo fell forward more than walked as he made his way back to his quarters. Hours had passed since Jace had awakened him from his thirty-minute siesta. Tired couldn’t describe the way he felt. He was exhausted.

     Punching in his access code, he slapped the entry key and moved into the room. Not bothering to turn on the lights, he fell down onto his bed, slipped his boots off and almost instantly dozed off.

     Then an annoying beeping sound came to him in his semi-conscious state. He ignored it. The sound persisted, refusing to let him fall into a deep sleep. He barely managed to fling his arm in the proper vicinity of the intercom. His mind, too weary to think logically, briefly questioned itself if the sound was actually the wake-up alarm. No, the alarm wouldn’t be set to go off at this time. It had to be the intercom.

     His hand found the answer button and the beeping stopped. “Yeah?”

     “Ryvo, are you asleep?” It was Skate’s voice.

     Suddenly Ryvo was fully alert. “Uh…yeah. What’s going on, Skate?”

     “Are you sure you weren’t asleep? Why did you take so long to answer?”

     “I was… indisposed,” Ryvo said. “But I’m back now…and you’re there…and we’re talking.”

     “You’re incoherent. You were sleeping, huh?”

     Ryvo sighed. “Yeah, I was asleep.”

     “Well, sorry for waking you. I will just talk to you tomorrow…wait, it is tomorrow. I will talk to you later, then.”

     “Wait! No, it’s okay. What’s up?”

     “Oh, nothing big,” Skate said. “I just wondered if you wanted to have a drink and chat. It’s so late, though. It was stupid of me.”

     “Well, come on over to my quarters,” Ryvo said. “Any time’s a good time for a drink.”

     Skate sighed this time. “All right, if you don’t mind. Be there soon.”

     When Skate signed off, Ryvo jumped from his bed. He tore off the mud and sweat covered clothes he was wearing and threw them in the recycling bin. Grabbing a fresh set, he hastily dressed and put his boots back on. He took a seat at the table and awaited Skate’s arrival. Not a minute later, the door chime sounded.

     “Enter.”

     Skate walked in with her feline-like grace and hoisted a bottle of Whyren’s Reserve.

     “You brought Whyren’s.”

     Skate gave him a closed-mouth smile as she sat down. “From my personal stash.”

     “What’s the special occasion?”

     “Let’s think of something,” Skate said, unusually playful. “Any time’s a good time for Whyren’s.”

     “Okay, how about…the fact that the telemetric reading worked.”

     “It worked? When?”

     Ryvo set two glasses on the table. “Just now. Jace called me after I got back to my quarters. We went down to the surface with Veego’s cloak and it just worked.”

     “Ah,” Skate said, eyeing the glasses. “Why did you go down to the planet to do it?”

     “I don’t know, just to help recreate the condition of the first reading,” Ryvo said, shrugging. “It worked.”

     Skate bit her lip and narrowed her eyes in good-humored suspicion, looking sexy while doing it. “I’m not buying it.”

     “Okay,” Ryvo sighed. “You told me the secret about them sending you to probe me, so what the hell. According to Thunder, Trinta is host to a ‘dark side nexus.’ It’s an area that is really strong with the dark side. I tried with Jace to get a reading onboard, but it didn’t work. So Thunder came up with the theory of the dark side nexus and the three of us went down to the planet and confirmed it. She said it boosts your Force power. I guess you and me were near it when I had the first vision.”

     “I see,” Skate said. “So…what’s the big secret?”

     “Jace told me not to tell anyone about the nexus.”

     Skate gave Ryvo a deadpan look. “Did he now?”

     “Yeah,” Ryvo said. Skate seemed to be in another dimension. She didn’t say anything else for several moments, continuing the stare, until Ryvo broke the silence. “Do you wanna pour our drinks?”

     “Oh, yeah,” Skate said. She looked at the bottle in her hand. “I forgot all about it.”

     Ryvo smiled. “A Sith forget about Whyren’s? Uh oh, I better watch out for flying banthas.”

     “We don’t need glasses,” Skate said, popping the cap off of the bottle. She took a big swig and set it in front of Ryvo. “Drink it from the bottle. You taught me that yourself.”

     “Yes I did. I just didn’t know you were comfortable enough with me to share a bottle.”

     “I shared one with you when you taught me,” Skate pointed out.

     “Yeah,” Ryvo admitted, “but we were in the middle of a big celebration.”

     “Well, were in the middle of one now, too, remember?” Skate purred. “You had another vision. So…what did you find out?”

     Ryvo glugged the bottle. “We have a lead on Reuss Eight.”

     “Oh no,” Skate said. “Not another wild goose chase.”

     “What’s a goose?” Ryvo asked.

     “Never mind,” Skate said, grabbing the bottle. “What kind of lead?”

     “TOS has a contact there.” Ryvo watched Skate take another gulp. “I just hope it leads us somewhere. One can only imagine the horrors my parents are going through. Damn it.”

     “I’m sure it will work out,” Skate said.

     She looked at Ryvo with compassionate eyes. Ryvo just wanted to put his arms around her in an embrace and weep on her shoulder; wanted to feel the warmth of her body on his as she comforted him. But no…they were only friends. And he was a man. He could deal with this himself. 

     “How about some holovision,” Ryvo said. He got up and went to grab the remote control on the stand next to the bed. When he turned around he found that Skate had followed him.

     “Hey…if you need me, I’m here for you,” she said.

     “Thanks,” Ryvo said. “I appreciate it. But I’m okay.” He sat on the edge of the bed and turned on the holopad. “What do you think? News, sports, those stupid soap operas?”

     “How about the truth,” Skate said, sitting next to him.

     Ryvo sagged. “Look, it’s something I have to deal with so I’ll deal with it. End of story.”

     “Don’t give me that banthashit,” Skate said. “Have you forgotten that I lost my parents, too? I know what you’re going through.”

     “I’m sorry,” Ryvo said, looking at her. “I didn’t mean to make light of that.”

     “I didn’t have anyone to help me through it,” Skate said, her tone softer. “I want to be here for you, because you need someone. Trust me, I know. But you keep putting up this wall like you’re some droid without feelings…well, I’ve seen you cry, so I know there’s a heart in there somewhere. So drop the macho stuff and open up to me.”

     Ryvo was taken aback by Skate’s gentle but firm tirade. He was hiding behind the mask of the arrogant scoundrel, the charismatic showman, the tough guy. It was all a gimmick, something he’d used all his life to grab attention and boost his ego. People he met would quickly become tired of this attitude, especially women he had been romantically involved with. But who needed them? He was Ryvo Lorell, and there was a galaxy of women out there. He had never had a reason to change. Until now.

     He looked over at Skate, her green eyes glowing, her red hair shining. She wasn’t after his money. She wasn’t trying to get a cheap thrill by latching onto a professional criminal. She wasn’t trying to bum rides from him in his ship. She was trying to help him, to reach out to him.

     Perhaps it was time to change. To take down the mask and show someone the face inside. That someone was Skate.

     Ryvo leaned towards her and she opened her arms. He wrapped his own arms around her and wept. There was no shame to be felt, for it was just the two of them, and he trusted her, felt comfortable with her.

     The holopad continued projecting the news, the program it was on when activated.

    “Hello?” Captain Vanicus called. His voice’s hoarseness caught him off guard. He hadn’t actually spoken in six or more hours. When he did, it was sporadic. Such were things when you shared a cell with an annoying, smarmy, smelly little mechanic.

     No, Gimmer was a friend, a comrade. He just really got to you when you were locked in an enclosed space with him for…

     For how long now? 

     Vanicus looked over at the crude tally marks Gimmer had made to count their days in captivity, which indicated several weeks. With transfers to different facilities, no light to determine daily cycles and other complications, it couldn’t be perfect. Still…several weeks…

     Several weeks of dampness, darkness, cold. They had run out of anything to talk about long ago. It was pretty bad if you were arguing over how the Old Republic survived without a military. Then there was the food. The cold, stale, sometimes rotten food. Which led him to his calling over to the next cell.

     “Hello?” Vanicus repeated. “Are you awake there?”

     “Now I am,” came the reply. “Who are you?”

     “A prisoner like yourself,” Vanicus answered flatly. “I’ve been listening to your conversations with our captor. How about passing some of that fresh food over here?”

     “It’s gone.”

     “It will be delivered again, I’m sure.”

     “What do I get in return?” the voice asked with a sly note.

     “That’s bloody heartless of you. Over there eating nice warm meals while we get by on scraps worthy of being thrown out to dogs and hawk-bats.”

     The voice chuckled softly. “Just a matter of science, friend. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

     “I could toss over some of our own food.” Vanicus’ tone was facetious.

     “You’ll have to do better than that. See, luck has smiled upon us, and while it hasn’t frowned upon you, it hasn’t smiled, either. Just the way things go.”

     “Just a matter of science?” Vanicus asked.

     “You’re catching on.”

     Vanicus made a hrmph sound. “How do you figure luck hasn’t frowned upon us?”

     “It could be worse. You could have no food at all.” The voice paused and Vanicus silently assented. “So have you figured out what else you have to offer?”

     “I can offer the promise of a later payment,” Vanicus said. I’d like that payment to be a DH-17 blast to the chest. No, the mouth would be better.

     The voice chuckled again. “I have a better idea that will allow you to pay me now.”

     “I’m listening.”

     “Tell me where in the hell we are.”

     “Where in hell, indeed,” Vanicus said. “We’re in a base of the Terrors of Space pirates.”

     “Okay, that doesn’t tell me much.”

     Vanicus sighed. “They’re a powerful group led by a couple Sith Lords. They have a—“

     “Wait, did you just say Sith Lords? Hey, pal, I have an even better idea. If you make this story really good, I will send over some food every day for two weeks.”

     “It’s no story.” Vanicus leaned back on his haunches in front of the door, relaxing. “I am—or was—the captain of a Super Star Destroyer owned by a rival Sith Lord. It all started when we were on a—“

     “Wait! This stuff is really good. Let me wake up my wife to listen to this. We’ve been bored to tears for a long time now.”

     Vanicus shook his head and almost laughed. Were he to be in his fellow captives’ place, he realized the story would sound ridiculous. Oh well, they were going to give him food. For whatever reason, they were on the TOS officer’s good side. And if Vanicus got on their good side, maybe he would be on the TOS officer’s good side, too. Very doubtful, but still, it didn’t hurt to make friends of them. Especially since they had fresh food.

     “…and the question at hand is should these captured Imperial personnel be tried for war crimes?”

     “Of course they should,” said a squeaky voice with an unidentifiable accent. “We’re talking about men and women who collaborated with an evil regime on such things as genocide, slavery and the violation of basic sentient rights!”

     “They were doing their job!” countered a voice with a clearly Coruscani accent.

     “And you are saying they were just following orders?” the first voice asked.

     “That is no excuse!” the squeaky voice exclaimed.

     “Wait, let’s stop right here,” the Coruscani man said. “If the host and the esteemed senator from Excarga would be so kind as to stop putting words in my mouth and allow me to speak, I will explain my viewpoint.”

     “The floor is yours, sir.”

     “Thank you. Now, the matter isn’t whether they were ordered to do something or not. It’s about choice. These brave men and women chose to serve the Empire. Should they be punished for acting on their convictions? Where are your Rebel ‘basic rights’ there, Senator Pym? Where is the ‘tolerance’ you hold so dear? The fact is, they had a right to make a choice and they made it.”

     The squeaky voice groaned. “And the New Republic will make them pay for that choice.”

     “So you throw your precious rights out the window in this instance?”

     “What about coercion? Conscription? Don’t be a fool. They’re not going to line up every last trooper and shoot them in the head. Investigations will be launched, and the senior officers, moffs and governors are the ones who will pay.”

     “Did it ever occur to you that there are people who want to live in the Empire?”

     “Sure, we have a name for them. Brainwashed.”

     “Old Rebel tactic, there,” the Coruscani man said. “If somebody is pro-Imperial, then they’re either insane, brainwashed or flat out evil. Give me a break.”

     “My job, Moff Mordon, is to assure you don’t get a break.”

     “What about the dirt I’ve so effortlessly found on your very own world?” Moff Mordon asked. “You made huge profits from selling to the Rebellion, while shying from actively taking part in the war! Would you call that a double standard? And before the Clone Wars, your Excargan Mining Authority was fined by the Mining Guild for attempting to cover up the ‘loss’ of two hundred million tons of doonium! The message I get is that Excarga isn’t above doing anything for a profit. How much of a markdown are Excargan companies getting on the ad space that will air during these holovised trials you so righteously promote?”

     “Erroneous,” Senator Pym said haughtily.

     “We have thirty seconds left,” the host said.

     “Deny, deny, deny,” Moff Mordon said. “I present evidence to support my claims and all you can do is accuse and deny. I fear a supposed galactic government staffed by officials who can do nothing to present a convincing argument for their case.”

     “You just don’t understand!” Pym shot out.

     “No,” Moff Mordon said, “I don’t.”

     “Folks, we’ve run out of time. Tune in to the NovaNetwork tomorrow night for another edition of War of Words when we’ll have on Siin Suub from SoroSuub Corporation and Enis Vatradzein, a former BlastTech executive, facing off over who created the E-11/Stormtrooper One blaster rifle. This is Meur Kolajan signing off from the NovaNetwork, the level playing field in the sport we call politics. Good night.”

     Sounds from the holopad came into Ryvo’s awareness. The news was on.

     Of course it was. It had never been turned off.

     Opening his eyes again, he found Skate in his arms on the bed next to him. She was out cold. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he tapped her shoulder until she awoke.

     “We dozed off,” Ryvo said, smiling.

     She looked around the room, disoriented. Her focus settled on the intercom. It was beeping.

     “You gonna answer that?”

     Ryvo, still wearing a Kool-aid smile, snapped back into the present. He hadn’t even noticed the sound. “Yeah.”

     He hit the button. “This is Ryvo.”

     “Impromptu meeting.” It was Jace’s voice. “Twenty minutes.” The speaker clicked.

     “Good morning to you, too,” Ryvo said, turning off the intercom. He looked at the clock. They had been asleep for about five hours. Good sleep, these days.

     “I better get to my quarters,” Skate said, stretching.

     “Why?” Ryvo asked, kicking his legs over the side of the bed, his feet clunking on the floor as he forgot his boots were never taken off.

     “So I can freshen up really quick before I go to the meeting,” Skate said in a tone that meant Ryvo should have known the obvious.

     “No time,” Ryvo said. “You’ll have to freshen up here.”

     Skate huffed. “You want me to use your sonic shower?”

     Ryvo shrugged. “Of course. We already slept together.”

     He was knocked off the bed by a blow from a pillow.

     Jace had never noticed it before, but Sith Squadron was one of the most motley assortments of beings he’d ever seen anywhere.

     Five women of varying size and appearance, all with a certain lethal beauty. Four males; one goofy kid, one fur ball hybrid, one horndog, and one smart-assed Bothan. Tyros Dakon and Ryvo Lorell, while not a part of the squadron, only added more contrast to the group.

     Then there was he. Jace Sidrona. The paragon of virtue. The clean-shaven, crew-cut, statue-featured awesomist. In his mind, he was as normal as normal got…or would have been, anyways. Standing among this gathering only reinforced that thought.

     “Reuss Eight is a completely industrialized world in the Portmoak sector in the Outer Rim. Think Eriadu, only worse. The atmosphere is toxic, gerrymandered into different levels of severity. Humans are forced to wear breath masks virtually all over the planet. There is a native race of near-humans who are called…Reussi.

     “The government is a crime syndicate that runs the manufacturing plants. The syndicate is headed by a Reussi by the name of Torel Vorne. He is ruthless, dangerous and some say psychotic. There is very little chance we will have to deal with him.

     “The planet is a busy one, as it is the backbone of industry for the entire sector. Our arrival shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.”

     “Our arrival in the captured Strike cruiser?” Seven asked.

     “Right,” Jace confirmed. “It’s ready to go. Right now, a coat of black paint is being put on it, along with the emblem of our imaginary merc group. We’re going to go in, find Ryvo’s contacts, and see where they lead us. I’m transmitting all necessary information to your datapads.”

     “Cool!” Rick said. “Aliases.”

     “OMEGA?” Star asked. “What does that stand for?”

     “Nothing. It’s our mercenary group’s name,” Jace said.

     “OMEGA Battalion? OMEGA Corps?”

     “No,” Jace said. “Just OMEGA.”

     “We’re still going to use an advance shuttle team, too,” Jace continued. “They can scope out the system, see what ships are in the vicinity and such. We’re going to skip sending a probe droid in, since the shuttle will raise few eyebrows in that system and is capable of a quick escape.”

     “Advance shuttle team?” Ryvo asked, confused.

     “Oh yeah,” Jace said. “You’re on it. It’s an idea we came up with at the last meeting before you came in.”

     Ryvo stared at Jace. He knew Jace didn’t trust him. But he must not have held it against Jace, for he didn’t say anything.

     “We’ve already set course for Portmoak sector,” Jace said. “Go get your disguises ready. Get with Ryvo if you need help. He’s a master.”

     Ryvo looked at Jace again. Was he angry? Hurt? Jace couldn’t sense, but it didn’t really matter. Ryvo was but a point in the grand scheme of things. The grand scheme that would see Reno’s rescue; that would allow Jace to fulfill his ultimate goals.

     In the cavernous main hangar bay most of Sith Squadron stood assembled. OMEGA, Skate reminded herself. All were dressed in blatant militaristic garb. Most wore green jackets, trousers and caps. Seven looked somewhere between deadly and inane in an old hard-helmet. Jace wore a pair of dark sunglasses with croakies under his cap. Hefting a SoroSuub “Firelance” blaster rifle, he looked all business.

     Skate appraised her reflection in a chrome section of the Telgorn assault shuttle she stood next to. She wore a black commando suit with matching belts and bandoliers. Her red hair was pulled back and tied, giving her a severe look. The phony burn scar on the left side of her face along with a headset comlink and video eyepiece were sure to disguise her from casual observers…from casual observers who would recognize her in the first place, which were very few.

     The doors at the far end of the hangar opened and a figure entered. As it approached, its features became clear. An unfamiliar man with short blonde hair and matching mustache and goatee. His skin was of a fairly dark hue. He wore khaki combat gear and carried a large blaster rifle slung over his shoulder. Passing Jace and the others, he went right up to Skate and stared down at her, his green eyes narrowing.

     “Can I do something for you?” Skate asked, only mildly derisive.

     “What do you mean can you do something for me?” the man yelled in a vaguely Agamarian accent. “Fifty demerits! Drop down and give me fifty pushups! Now!”

     Skate, shocked, looked from the man to the rest of the Siths, some of whom were stifling laughs. Then it hit her.

     “Ryvo?”

     “Ryvo? What in the hell are you talking about? I’m Sergeant Dalron and I told you to drop down and give me fifty! You want to try for a hundred?”

     “Hey, that’s pretty good,” Skate said, impressed. “The voice is better than the disguise. I actually thought you were some jackass SSD crewmember who I was going to have to cut in half.”

     Ryvo chuckled. “I’m glad I didn’t do better.”

     “Listen up,” Jace said, interrupting the small conversations around the gathering. “The advance team will take the assault shuttle in. The rest of us will board another shuttle and transfer over to the Twist of Fate. That’s what the Strike cruiser’s been re-christened as, by the way. Thunder and Palin have already taken their snubs over there along with ten SSD pilots in interceptors in case we run into any troublemakers around Reuss. Remember, it’s thug territory.”

     “When we get there and find out everything’s okay, do we dock with you guys after you come in or do we go in and land alone?” Skate asked.

     “Dock with us,” Jace said. “They won’t think it very out of the ordinary that we sent some people in to look for rival merc groups. Just don’t get too close to traffic until we get there.”

     “Why an assault shuttle?” Jen asked.

     “It better fits the mercenary profile, has better sensors so you don’t have to get too close and it can hold out until we get there if any trouble arises.” Jace gestured at it. “It doesn’t—“

     “Whoa, whoa, I see your point,” Jen said, raising her hands. “I was just wondering because there aren’t any crew cabins on these assault shuttles.”

     Jace gave her a sardonic look. “That hardly matters.”

     “Of course!” Jen said, perking up. “Who needs crew cabins?”

     “Get out of here.”

     As everyone moved to their respective ships, Skate thought about what she had asked Jace. When we get there and find out everything’s okay…

     But…she still had the S-thread tracker in the secret hiding place. That meant…it meant something, but she couldn’t quite figure it out, no mattered how hard she thought about it. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be okay.

     Somehow, the TOS command center was quieter, darker, eerier than usual. Andell paced between the stations, distractedly checking screens and readouts. Same old stuff. Nothing but minor meteorites entering the atmosphere. Nothing but blizzards outside. Maybe Ryvo Lorell wouldn’t comply. Maybe he couldn’t comply. Perhaps he hadn’t received Lord Xanthis’ message. Either way, Andell wondered whether Xanthis would make good on his claim that he’d kill Ryvo’s parents.

     Of course he would. He was a Sith Lord. An evil Sith Lord who didn’t play games. Just as he hadn’t played games when he’d killed Andell’s own parents. It wasn’t an act of random violence. It was a requirement for all members of TOS. No ties to the outside. Since no sane person would willingly send their family to their deaths, TOS personnel were chosen. Handpicked. Upon selection, you had a choice: join and your family dies or don’t join and your family and you die.

     Andell, being the coward that he was, chose the former. He’d seen his parents and siblings cut down right in front of his eyes. He was glad that he hadn’t been forced by TOS to kill them himself. He’d rationalized it all by thinking someone had to carry on the family name. He couldn’t let the family die off…they deserved better than that.

     “I’ve got something,” one of the sensor operators called, startling Andell.

     “What is it?” Andell asked, leaning over his shoulder.

     “Coded signals picked up on the HoloNet connection. From two S-threads so far, each in quick succession.”

     Andell studied the readout. “Extrapolate speed and destination.”

     The operator tapped several buttons. “Hyperspeed is two point oh. Projected destination is somewhere in the Portmoak sector.”

     Andell mulled over that. The Strike cruiser Sith Squadron had stolen was modified to make 1.0. But its hyperdrive had been damaged—Andell knew this firsthand, as it had been his intended salvation from Bastille—and it was possible that its new top speed was 2.0. He didn’t want to tell Xanthis he’d found the SSD—whose speed was also 2.0—when it could have been the Strike cruiser. If Xanthis took off after the signal and it turned out not to be the SSD, he’d have Andell’s head on a platter.

     Andell sighed. Why didn’t the trackers send specific signals so he would know which ship was which? On the other hand, they were lucky to get their hands on the trackers at all, as they were rare, restricted merchandise. They were even luckier to have someone to plant them on the ships in the first place.

     “Send orders to the Last Dance and Nail In The Coffin to set courses for the Portmoak sector,” Andell said to the communications controller. “Tell them to stand ready to jump at moment’s notice.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     He’d hold off reporting to Xanthis until the second tracker sent its signals. That way, he could be sure of the information he had to report. It would require patience. He just hoped Xanthis’ patience matched or exceeded his own.

     Hyperspace was something that became bland over time. Like a scenic view from a window or a new holovid, it was only a spectacle to the uninitiated. Ryvo’s long empirical history with space travel had made the mottled visage of hyperspace bland long ago. So instead he looked at something else that he suspected would never—could never—become bland no matter how long he stared. Someone to be precise.

     He had chosen to sit on her right side, so he could look at her face without seeing the fake scar on the other side. They occupied the middle two seats of four flight control stations arrayed at the forward viewport of the long shuttle.

     “So who are these contacts you have on Reuss Eight?” Skate asked as she propped her booted feet up on the console.

     “One is an ex-grappler,” Ryvo replied. “After he retired, he wound up on Reuss Eight as owner of a bar. Aside from mixology, he deals in information. If there is anything to find there, he will know it. If he doesn’t, chances are he can find out. The other is an old acquaintance that is somewhat of a freedom fighter. He vowed to set the planet’s inhabitants free of Vorne’s tyrannical rule. Kind of a psycho. I don’t even know if he’s still alive, though.”

     Skate frowned thoughtfully. “How do you know the other contact is alive?”

     “He is a survivor,” Ryvo said. “You don’t live through the business he did if you’re not a survivor.”

     Skate gave him a mocking smile. “You don’t live through play fighting if you’re not a survivor, huh?”

     Ryvo sighed and shook his head, returning her smile. “Those who understand don’t need an explanation. For those who don’t understand, no explanation will do.”

     “Kinda like your Force training,” Skate said, though not derisively.

     “I’m trying,” Ryvo said. “I guess I’ve just been a little distracted.”

     “That’s understandable,” Skate said, reaching over and rubbing his arm. “I have an idea.”

     “What’s that?”

     Skate brought her feet down and sat up in her chair again. “What do you say after this is all over and you get everything squared away with your parents we go on vacation? Just relax and have fun and then we can continue your training.”

     Ryvo raised his eyebrows, a bit cheered up after his thoughts had momentarily shifted to his parents. “It sounds good.”

     “Ever been to Adarlon?” Skate asked.

     “Yeah, but not for recreation,” Ryvo said. “I dropped some stuff off there once.”

     “Well, I’ve been there and it was the most fun I’ve ever had.” She looked down. “In fact, I think it’s one of the only times I’ve truly had fun that didn’t involve doing something illegal.”

     “We can go,” Ryvo said. “But you seem a bit positive about the outcome of our mission.”

     Skate leaned forward and took his hands in hers. Her skin felt soft. “It’s gonna work out okay. We’ve worked too hard and gone through too much to give up now.”

     Ryvo shrugged. “I’m just being a realist.”

     “Well, the reality of the situation is that I’m here for you no matter what.”

     Skate squeezed his hands and he looked up at her. He didn’t even notice the fake burn mark as he gazed into her hazel eyes. The hazel color was part of the disguise, he knew, but that wasn’t what made her eyes so enticing. It was the sparkle, the intelligent essence behind them.

     Without hesitating, he pulled her closer and put his lips on hers. He initiated it, but she didn’t resist. The passionate kiss went on for a while—Ryvo wasn’t counting. He was too caught up in the amorous feelings it imbued between them.

     “If you guys keep that up, we’ll have relieve your posts up there so you can have a turn back here.”

     Both Ryvo and Skate pulled away from the kiss and looked over. Jeni Violet’s head was looking over the semicircular command console in the back of the cockpit. Ryvo just smiled and turned back to Skate, who was also grinning, her cheeks somewhat red. He leaned his forehead on hers.

     Tyros popped his head over the console, a confused look on his face, to see what the commotion was all about. Jen fell back behind the console, grabbing Tyros’ head and pulling him down with her.

     “We’ve received the second signal, sir.”

     Andell raced with as much dignity as he could to the sensor operator’s station. “Where?”

     “Near Ryloth.”

     “Not much HoloNet traffic out there,” Andell observed.

     “No, sir,” the operator agreed.

     “It could be a while before it crosses another S-thread.” Andell bit his lip in thought. “Using the two signals we received earlier and correlating them with this one, can you determine a point of origin for the two emitters?”

     “We would need a speed for the second signal and we would have to assume the two signals left at the same time.”

     Andell rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do that. Make the speed of the second signal one point oh.”

     “In progress,” the operator said. “Those factors would put their point of origin near Saki.”

     “That’s smack dab in the middle off Hutt space,” Andell said, mostly to himself. “That doesn’t make sense. They’d stay away from there. Do the same thing, only this time assume the second signal is traveling at two point oh.”

     “That would put their jump points somewhere around here,” the operator said, tapping an area deep in the Outer Rim on the screen.

     Andell smiled with satisfaction. “That’s more like a place the SSD would lie low. Now we can pretty much be assume that both signals are traveling at two point oh. The SSD is heading somewhere further into the Outer Rim while the Strike cruiser is being taken to Portmoak most likely to be sold for a handsome price. Lots of potential buyers in Portmoak. Pirates. Perhaps even the Empire or New Republic. Makes sense to me. Inform Last Dance and Nail In The Coffin to make their jump immediately. Tell them we’ll be in contact with them with a more precise location.”

     “That’s another thing, sir. In your absence, the first signal passed through three more S-threads. There is a ninety-two percent chance their destination is the Reuss system. I’ve already informed the ships of this information.”

     “Excellent. Tell them to jump, then.”

     As he left the station without another word, his smile remained in place. He had news for Lord Xanthis. Good news. That was one thing he didn’t mind bringing Xanthis. And soon he would be able to bring the Sith Lord more things, such as their captured Strike cruiser and perhaps more good news of Sith Squadron’s capture or death. At least some of Sith Squadron, anyway. Still, it was good news.

     Andell stopped at the communications station. He would give one of his associates in the Portmoak sector a call and see if any assistance could be rendered in capturing a Strike cruiser. It was prudent, in more than one way. Sith Squadron was resourceful and deadly, if anything, and Andell had no doubt that with the stolen Strike cruiser alone they could take out the two ships he sent.

     There was also the possibility of his being wrong…that the SSD was the signal heading to the Reuss system. In that case, the Last Dance and Nail In The Coffin would live up to their names…that is, without any backup. However unlikely that scenario was, Andell hoped the associate he had in mind would send enough ships to alleviate its direness.

      Ryvo strode onto the bridge of the assault shuttle. Skate sat at her usual seat, and this time, Jen and Tyros were manning their own stations, Tyros at a forward seat and Jen behind the command console.

     Ryvo himself had just awakened. It had been a few days since they’d begun their voyage. One person slept at a time, so as to have three alert people on the bridge at all times in case of an emergency. It was sensible, but didn’t allow him and Skate to be alone. But the mission was paramount, so he couldn’t allow himself to be grieved by that personal inconvenience. There would be time enough to spend with Skate after the whole debacle was over. They’d agreed upon as much. In the meantime, he had the dreams about the kiss they’d shared.

     All three looked at him as he moved to his station.

     “Almost there?” he asked.

     “Within minutes,” Jen said. “You timed your sleep well.”

     “Yeah, and I did it by using a brand new invention!” Ryvo looked at the two Sith chicks and Tyros, each in turn. “It’s called an alarm.”

     Jen looked amazed. “I have one of those! But I keep mine on my Whyren’s stash.”

     Everyone laughed and waited out the remaining minutes of the hyperspace trip by making preparations for the reversion. It came soon as the warning tone sounded. Skate, at the main flight controls, pulled back on the hyperdrive levers and the ship dropped into normal space.

     “Tyros, sensor scan,” Jen ordered.

     “I’m powering up the weapons,” Ryvo notified nobody in particular. He saw Skate flipping several switches at her station.

     “Hold here, Skate,” Jen said. “We’ll move in closer after our initial scan.”

     “Numerous ships in system, as expected,” Tyros said. “Strange…it looks like a convoy is headed for us. Looks like a bunch of freighters of different sizes. A few bigger ships.”

     Jen frowned. “Are we in the path of another point in the system they could be heading?”

     The former Imperial guardsman studied the sensors. “No.”

     Ryvo turned to Jen, who had her eyes locked on him like tractor beams. “Ryvo.” It was a growl.

     “Hey, I don’t know anything about this,” he said, raising his hands.

     “Skate, get us out here,” Jen said, not taking her eyes off of Ryvo.

     Ryvo looked at Skate, who hadn’t taken her eyes off of her controls since they’d arrived in system. She didn’t take any action.

     “Skate, go,” Jen ordered again. When the Toprawan woman didn’t answer, Jen turned to her. “Skate!”

     Slowly, Skate raised her right arm across her chest. In it was a blaster, pointing at Tyros. She rose to her feet to face Jen.

     “Contact the others, or he’s dead,” Skate told her. “Tell them it’s clear to join us.”

     “Skate?” Jen said, shock and anger in her voice.

     Ryvo remained in his seat, shocked himself by the whole situation. It was far beyond unfathomable and unexpected. He drew his own blaster and rose from his chair. He pointed it at Skate.

     “Drop it, Skate,” Ryvo said.

     “Check your blaster,” Skate said.

     Ryvo did. The power pack was drained. In this disguise, he didn’t have his backup weapons. He checked the power packs on his belt. Also drained.

     Skate inclined her head at Jen, silently reiterating her command.

     Jen met her gaze. The Corellian woman’s face turned into an angry snarl, probably attempting to cloud Skate’s mind as Tyros drew his own blaster, which was obviously drained liked Ryvo’s, for the man dropped it after pulling the trigger frantically.

     Jen ignited her purple blade, looked ready to throw it in Tyros’ defense. Ryvo looked at the dead blaster in his hand. Instantly, he launched it at Skate’s blaster, throwing it like a Rodian razor-stick. It wasn’t nearly as well balanced, but it nailed her sidearm right above the butt, effectively sending it sliding across the floor. Tyros and Ryvo leapt at Skate at almost the same time. She jumped away, going through a full somersault, landing behind the command console near Jen. Tyros and Ryvo almost slammed into each other. Jen quickly snatched Skate’s lightsaber from her belt, holding her own lightsaber in preparation to go on the offensive.

     “Stand down, Skate,” Jen said stiffly.

     Skate answered by swiftly reaching behind her and grabbing her lightblade. Until Ryvo saw it ignited in her hands, he had totally forgotten about it. Tyros took a determined step toward the two women, but a hand gesture from Skate sent him crashing into the forward flight stations.

     Jen didn’t stall any longer and attacked. Her left and right slashes were deftly blocked by Skate with her much shorter blade. Skate was content to stay on the defensive, slowing backpedaling while parrying the other woman’s attack.

     Was she buying time?

     Ryvo looked out the forward viewport. The convoy was now faintly visible as tiny specks against the backdrop of Reuss VIII and its moons. He didn’t have a clue what was going on with Skate, the approaching ships or anything else…he just knew that she had to be stopped.

     He looked down to see Skate’s lightsaber behind Jen where she’d dropped it before going on the offensive. Ryvo ran and grabbed it. He hit the activation switch, but nothing happened. He banged it against his other hand and tried again. Still nothing. He tossed it aside.

     Tyros was getting up from the ground by the forward flight stations. He tried opening a channel to the Twist of Fate. Ryvo heard him calling for the ship before cursing about jamming. All the while, Ryvo sized up the situation. An instant later, he made a decision. Skate’s blaster was not easily accessible on the other side of the dueling women. But there were sure to be weapons cached in the trooper bay, so that’s where he headed. As he passed through the hatch, he cast a glance at the lightsaber fight. Skate was still on the defensive, jumping over a low-arced cut by Jen. Looked like a good swordfight. A real one, not like the choreographed gerbil-on-crack fighting so absurdly displayed in the holodramas about Jedi Knights.

     No sooner did Ryvo enter the comparatively large compartment than he was thrown skittering across the deck to slam into the rear bulkhead, more than a dozen meters away. He didn’t have a clue what had caused it. Had they been hit by weapons from the approaching ships? When he tried to get up, he found he was pinned to the bulkhead by g-forces. Then it dawned on him what had happened. Tyros had cut off the inertial compensator and thrust the ship forward, hoping to disable Skate in the process. Ryvo hoped it worked, because if the g-forces got any higher, he felt like his bones would be crushed to fine powder. Gradually, the weight on his body reduced until he was able to stand.

     He immediately tore open a weapons locker and grabbed a blaster rifle, then ran back to the bridge. What he saw when he got there made his heart drop. Jen stood over Skate’s prone body, panting. Tyros sat at one of the forward stations, strapped in. He had the inertial compensator back on and was piloting them away at top sublight speed.

     Ryvo ran up to Jen. “Is she—“

     “She’s alive,” Jen finished for him. “Tyros slammed us against the wall. Her blaster landed right next me. I grabbed it, set it on stun and put her lights out. Quite an accomplishment, considering the G-forces.”

     “Well, let’s get the hell out of here,” Ryvo said.

     Jen looked at him. “Hyperdrive’s out.”

     “Damn.”

     Ryvo moved to the command console, and noticed for the first time that he had pain in his head. He reached up and rubbed the back of it, only to find blood on his fingers. Now wasn’t the time to worry about injuries. According to the sensors, some of the approaching ships were gaining on the shuttle.

     “Do you think you can fix the hyperdrive?” Ryvo asked Jen.

     “It’s possible,” she said, still standing near Skate, obviously concerned. She shook her head clear. “I’ll go see what I can do.”

     “We’ll try to hold them off as long as we can,” Ryvo said, but she was already through the hatch and on her way to the engineering section at the stern of the long shuttle. He directed his attention to Tyros. “What’ve we got?”

     “The close ones are mostly freighters of various makes,” Tyros said.

     “What about the big ones?”

     “Looks like a Corellian corvette, a couple gunships and…a ZD-8000 cruise ship,” Tyros said.

     That caught Ryvo’s attention. Corellian ZD-8000’s were large luxury vessels about a third the size of Imperial Star Destroyers. They weren’t very common in the first place, much less in the company of gunships and corvettes. He punched up a list of the other ships on his own sensor screen.

     “Slow her down,” Ryvo said.

     Tyros snapped his head around, as if expecting Ryvo to have a blaster leveled at his back. “Are you out of your mind?”

     “I know these guys,” Ryvo said, meeting Tyros’ glare. “Trust me. I’m opening a channel.” Ryvo flicked a few switches. “Money Shot, please stand down. Code Orange Lekku.”

     There was a short pause, then, “Identify yourself, shuttle.”

     “This is Poetry In Motion, three days out of Bothan Space,” Ryvo lied. “We got lost from our convoy. We’d appreciate permission to dock and resupply. Code Orange Lekku.”

     The pause was longer this time. “Permission granted, Poetry. Make slow approach. We’re opening our docking bay.”

     Ryvo sat back, relieved.

     “What was all that about?” Tyros asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

     Ryvo only grinned arrogantly and hit the intercom switch. “Uh, Jen, you can come back up here. I think I have everything under control.”

     “You mean you’ve got the hyperdrive working?” Jen’s voice came over the speakers, sounding tinny.

     “No, I—“ Ryvo began. “Just come on up here. I’ll explain.”

     Tyros nodded to Skate. “We’d better secure her before she wakes up.”

     Ryvo looked over at Skate, lying on the floor. Now that he had time to think, he didn’t know what to think. What was wrong with Skate? Or was the problem that there was nothing wrong at all, that this was her true, treacherous self. Either way, it disgusted him. More than that, it worried him.

     He got up to bind Skate as Tyros guided the shuttle towards the ZD-8000’s docking bay.

     “It was a display of initiative,” Xanthis said plainly. “You did what you thought was best given the options available. It was the exercise of…freedom.”

     Andell signaled that he agreed with that assessment.

     Xanthis turned and paced away a few steps. “I suppose I should have thought it through to that point. After all, we don’t know if Lorell is on our side for sure. This could all be an attempt to draw us away from here so they might attack.”

     Andell again indicated that he agreed, and suddenly his already laborious breathing became a fight for breath. Upon telling Xanthis of what he had done about the tracking device signals, the dark lord has simply raised his hand and slammed Andell against the wall. It hadn’t been bone shattering, but rather just firm enough to let Andell know that his master wasn’t entirely happy with the decision. A chokehold by way of the Force had then been applied to Andell’s throat, letting in just enough air to keep him alive.

     “So you’re not so sure that our base’s location is still a secret, after all,” Xanthis said. He spun around to face Andell. “Did you lie to me?”

     Andell gestured with his hands in a plea for air, though not to breathe, but rather to state his case. Xanthis acceded with a flick of his hand.

     “My Lord,” Andell began, coughing. “Based on he assumption that Sith Squadron couldn’t get any information from Bastille’s memory banks or personnel, I can say that our base is a secret. That said, there is much that Sidrona knows about you, your master and his own. Couldn’t it be possible that he could somehow guess where we are?”

     “One planet in millions is a big guess,” Xanthis countered, incredulity evident in his voice.

     Andell sighed heavily. “All I’m saying, my Lord, is that he could have a list of possibilities and as he gets clues along the way, eliminate them until he comes down to a small group of likely places.”

     “That would take a long time. Longer than the time he has been given.”

     Andell looked down, searching the ground for answers. “Maybe…maybe when he interrogated some of our people, he found a few that identified star patterns in the sky here—“

     “Far fetched! What is your point in all of this, General?!”

     “I guess my point is that our location isn’t a complete secret,” Andell said. “It can’t be.”

     Andell hoped—probably in vain—that Xanthis wouldn’t reinitiate the choke hold. He was curious if the invisible strangle on his neck would leave bruises or any other visible marks.

     “We’re straying from the point,” Xanthis said. “I suppose what’s done is done. Soon we will learn if Lorell complied with our demands. If he has, then we will have our Strike cruiser back and the SSD within our grasp, by way of the impending second signal passing through another S-thread or by…extracting this information from any captives we may take.  If he hasn’t, then we know that we have to move on to contingency plans. And execute his parents.”

     Andell tensed. In order to hide it, he blurted out his next thought. “Should the Terror of Space head for the vicinity of the second signal, so as to be closer if and when we pick up another?”

     “No,” Xanthis said. “Even if it is unlikely, this could be an attempt to have us leave the base relatively unprotected. The location of the second signal is ambiguous, is it not? Way out on the Outer Rim…not so strange for Sith Squadron, yet such a random place for them to be in their quest for their lost master.”

     “Yes, Lord Xanthis,” Andell agreed. “This is what convinced me send the Last Dance and Nail In The Coffin to the Reuss system. The SSD is more likely to be in the middle of nowhere than heading for one of the busiest systems in the Outer Rim Territories.”

     Xanthis looked at him angrily. “Next time, you consult me first.”

     With a final squeeze of Andell’s throat, Xanthis released him from the wall.

     “Inform me the moment you hear anything from Reuss.”

     “Yes, my Lord.”

     Andell bowed as Xanthis left the room. Despite all the perks, this job was getting to be a pain in the neck. Andell shook his head at the double meaning. Now all there was to do was wait for word from the ships heading to Reuss. In the meantime, he had to find a mirror, to check for any theoretical bruises on his neck.

     Perks, indeed.

     “Where in the hell are they?” Jace asked rhetorically, standing on the bridge of the Twist of Fate.

     “They should have arrived in the Reuss system thirty minutes ago,” Rick said.

     Jace looked at the younger Sith. “I can do math.” Without waiting for a rebuttal, he walked over to the communications station. “Anything?”

     The tech shook her head.

     Jace weighed his options. He could either wait it out, send in a fighter element to scope it out or take in the Twist of Fate. This whole situation made his insides churn. He never should have trusted Ryvo. But he had had to trust him. Jace had to find Reno and any risk was worth taking if it would—or might—lead to him.

     Jace heard Thunder approaching and turned to meet her. “I think I’m going to send you and Palin in your snubs to see what’s going on over there.”

     “Shouldn’t we wait just a while longer?” Thunder asked in a hushed tone.

     “Every minute that passes, it could be getting worse,” Jace countered. “That is, if there is anything left to get worse.”

     Thunder closed her eyes. “I don’t feel anything wrong.”

     “You’re not the be-all, end-all of feeling disturbances in the Force, either,” Jace said dryly. “There’s something not right. I can feel it. I can sense it.”

     Thunder swung a hand at the viewport. “Let’s just rush on in, then, Jace. If you’re so sure, then tell them to set a course and bring us in.”

     “I said I was going to send in you and Palin,” Jace said.

     “Yeah, just send us in like the expendable cannon fodder we are,” Thunder said, clearly angry. “Why don’t you go in with us?”

     Jace shrugged. “You two have your snubs here. I don’t.”

     Thunder’s face flushed red. “If you want to—“

     “I’ve got something,” the comm officer called, cutting off Thunder’s argument, and Jace was glad for it.

     “What is it?” Jace asked, turning back to the station.

     “Encrypted text message,” the tech answered. “Says sorry for the delay, all is okay and to move in and meet them at a location indicated by the coordinates they sent.”

     Jace could only wonder if it was trap. If it was, then thirty minutes was a very quick time to take out the shuttle, take the crew and force them to reveal the Twist of Fate’s location. Very quick, that is, unless Ryvo had double-crossed them, which Jace didn’t rate as unlikely. Still, this was another risk he’d have to take.

     “Thunder, go get the crews to their fighters,” he ordered. “I’m taking us in, and if we fall into a big mess, I want to be ready to fight.”

     Thunder turned to leave.

     “Wait,” Jace said, waving her back, close to him. “Good job. You kept your petty little dispute with me at a low sound level, so the others couldn’t hear. If it would make you feel any better, I can record a holographic image of myself for you to yell at in your quarters when you’re off duty.”

     The woman turned away and marched off without another word. Jace turned back to the comm tech, satisfied with himself in this latest round of one-upmanship with Thunder.

     “Feed those coordinates to navigation,” Jace said. “Helm, take us in immediately when ready. All stations, battle alert.”

     Skate opened her eyes. She saw whiteness. Whiteness surrounding a yellow nucleus. It was as if she was staring into a G-type star in some other dimension where space was white rather than black.

     It didn’t take her more than a second to realize that she was looking at a light source hanging from a ceiling. She tried to get up, but soon found she was secured to the bed by three metal arms. Deciding not to struggle against it, she took a look around the room. It was an infirmary, obviously. All the standard medical paraphernalia sat at what seemed like arbitrary positions, including a bacta tank. Through a window, she could see a man in a white lab coat at a desk.

     Skate turned the other way and saw another man. This one had dark blond hair and a goatee. At first she didn’t recognize the disguise.

     “You’re awake,” Ryvo said. He was sitting on a bed identical to Skate’s, with a thin bandage around his head.

     “No shit, Olie,” Skate said, feeling her head throb as the words left her mouth. “What happened?”

     “You turned on us and tried to let us be captured,” he said. It was more of an accusation than an answer, as if saying like you don’t know.

     Skate laughed, and it caused more pain than talking. “You’re kidding.”

     “Look at me,” Ryvo said, indicating his injury. “Do I look like I’m kidding? Do I look like I’m all laughs? Like I’m all shits and giggles?”

     “No,” Skate said, uncertainly. She didn’t know what he was talking about. Before awakening in the medical bay, all she remembered was piloting the assault shuttle in the Reussi system. He said that she’d turned on them and tried to let them be captured. That didn’t make sense. She had been insubordinate on occasion, but that was a far cry from betrayal. No matter what would happen to her, she was a loyal member of Sith Squadron, through and through. “Where are Jen and Tyros?”

     “They’re in the hangar to meet Jace,” Ryvo said, still looking at her intensely.

     “Hangar where?”

     “We’re on the Money Shot.”

     “What the hell?”

     Ryvo shook his head. “Someone will tell you later.”

     “Tell me later?” Skate was getting frustrated. None of this made sense. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

     “Because I don’t feel like it,” Ryvo said flatly. “I will later.”

     Skate didn’t argue any longer. When she was thinking about what to say next, Jace entered, followed by Star, Jen and Tyros. The Tatooine native stopped at the foot of her bed and stared at her, not unlike Ryvo. The rest of the group flanked him, though their expressions held more compassion, which wasn’t saying much.

     “What happened?” Jace said, no anger evident in his tone.

     “That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Skate said in no kind way.

     Jace looked over at Ryvo. “Do you know anything?”

     “I know some,” Ryvo answered, still staring at Skate.

     Jace spreads his arms in a prompting gesture.

     Ryvo huffed, finally looking away from Skate. “I sent a message to these people. They’re old associates of mine. I told them to track two signals over the HoloNet, and to attack any TOS ships in the vicinity.  Before you ask why, let me explain that, too. Xanthis sent me a message a few days ago telling me to plant two S-thread emitters; one on the SSD, one on the Strike cruiser. They were hidden away on the strike cruiser. He threatened to have my parents executed if I didn’t comply. So, not wanting to doom us, and not wanting to let my parents die, either, I enlisted the help of Skate. We got the emitters, put them in probe droid hyperpods and launched them. Well, we did that with one of them, anyway.” Ryvo shot a look at Skate.

     “That’s one hell of a story,” Jace said, as if he didn’t believe Ryvo. “So your friends attacked you guys instead. How? We had that shuttle swept three times.”

     Ryvo nodded at Skate. “She had the other emitter. She was supposed to launch it as I did. The Money Shot’s crew already went over the shuttle. They didn’t find anything.”

     Skate struggled against her restraints. “I didn’t do anything! Jace, if this happened, he must be lying! He smuggled the emitter aboard!”

     “Then why did you attack us?” Jen asked.

     Skate looked at Jen, at the expression on her face. It was as if she were wounded. Betrayal was something that was more lethal than a vibroblade’s cut. But Skate hadn’t betrayed anyone! She would have remembered not only doing it, but her reasons for doing it. She had never been anything but loyal to the Siths.

     Skate’s silence prompted Jace to speak. “How did you get the tracker onto the ship?”

     “Wait a minute,” Jen said, her tone as if she had figured out a difficult math problem. She unclipped Skate’s lightsaber from her own belt and loosened the pommel. Turning it down, as if to pour Whyren’s from its innards, she caught the S-thread tracker that slid out.

     “That’s why I couldn’t get it to ignite,” Ryvo said.

     Jace looked at Skate. “I don’t know what the hell this is all about, but you’re confined to the Twist of Fate’s sickbay until I find time to sort through all this. Take her. I want her under guard at all times.”

     Two SSD troopers, whom Skate hadn’t noticed before, came around the group of Siths. Instead of the usual emblem of a targeting reticle over a bottle of Whyren’s, their helmets were emblazoned with the silver OMEGA logo: a angular depiction of a human head being pointed at from below by two hands in the shape of guns. The doctor unlocked the restraints from his desk control panel and the troopers took Skate, one on each arm. This wasn’t good. It made her look guilty. But she was guilty, according to her friends.

     As the troopers led her through the strange ship’s hallways, she thought about this. Everyone was telling her that she had attacked the other members of her team. But all she remembered was piloting the shuttle and then waking up in the infirmary. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t have happened.

     But why were her friends telling her that it did happen? Why would they lie to her? It couldn’t be some big practical joke that everyone was in on. Maybe she shouldn’t think about if it happened, but how it would be possible.

     The first thought went to Ryvo. Maybe he was a TOS plant. Maybe he had some sort of mind control power and had her made her attack them. He did excel in Force suggestion. It was true that she’d helped him dispose of the S-thread emitters. She’d launched one in a probe droid hyperpod. But he had accused her of not doing it. Somehow, he’d taken her lightsaber, hollowed it out and placed the other emitter inside. But why? Why would he want to discredit her? Perhaps to gain an ally to help him in his cause, whatever that may be? But he had to think that if Skate’s forced treachery were exposed that she’d be dealt with, as she was now. In fact, she supposed that she should start thinking of something to tell Jace, not only to save her integrity, but also her life.

     Maybe she was trying to shove this all on someone else. Her whole theory about Ryvo wasn’t impossible, but it was a bit far-fetched. Why would he risk his life rescuing her from MH-JL if…but wait…if he was a TOS agent, then he wouldn’t have risked his life rescuing her. He would have been there already. No, that didn’t add up, either. TOS had his parents. There was ample evidence of that.

     The thought of MH-JL brought something else to mind. What had Veego done to her while she was there? She remembered the interrogation, of course. It had been surprisingly civilized, as far as TOS values went. Civilized as it may have been, it had been chock full of intensity. Pure psychological torture. She had lost track of time, of how many questions were asked. But, was there something more? A mind control implant of sort could have been put in her brain. Still, there were no scars to indicate that.

     “Are you okay?” Star said, shocking Skate out of her thoughts.

     “I don’t know, am I?”

     Star waved the guard on the right side away and slipped her arm through Skate’s. “I hope we can find out just that back on the SSD.”

     “Back on the SSD?” Skate clicked her tongue. “I hate being out of this mission.”

     “I know,” Star said softly. “But you’re in no condition to go on missions. We can work together on this, and get through it, whatever it is.”

     Skate knew it wasn’t a patronizing statement. “Thanks, Star. Thanks for at least believing in the possibility that I’m not a…traitor.”

     Star squeezed Skate’s arm. “I’m here for you. We’re all here for you.”

     “I think a few people back in that sickbay would disagree with you,” Skate said painfully.

     Star looked at her, but didn’t say anything else. She stayed on Skate’s side for the duration of the walk through the docking tube to the Strike cruiser. Even if it didn’t make Skate feel better, it made her feel comforted, and comfort was something that was currently a scarce commodity.