“He fell in! He’ll drown!”

     “Baron Reno! I mean Reno…I—err, I mean you—received a call in your absence. This information dealer left a tip on a shipment of Whyren’s.”

     “Why did you do that? How did you do that?”

     “Ante, I am going to take us in, full throttle. Maintain sensors scan, but decrease the sphere as we approach."

     “But you seem a bit positive about the outcome of our mission.”

     …the line very, very fine…

     “So we finally come across yet another member of Sith Squadron."

     “We protect all the fine businesses around here. Whatever ya did back there just isn't going to pass."

     “They hurt. Bad. Not the needles, but the drugs he put into you…they caused a lot of pain.”

     “I ran into some enforcers from a local protection ring.”

     “Contact the others. Tell them it’s clear to join us.”

     “…but the drugs he put into you…they caused a lot of pain.”

     …very, very fine…

     “…they caused a lot of pain.”

     VERY FINE!

     “PAIN!”

     Skate woke up with an abruptness akin to a glow panel switching on in a pitch-black room. She found herself laying in darkness. She was covered in sweat and panting. Like the past several times she had awakened in the past few days, she wanted to think it had all been a dream. But she knew the drill by now and her mind wouldn’t allow her the notion that the last few weeks had been but a nightmare that she had finally stepped out of. No, she knew where she was, where she was going: on board a ship piloted by Elkin Jeevers—the apparent friendly neighborhood TOS agent—on her way to the main TOS base.

     That in itself was a nightmare of the first order. Not because she worried for her own safety, but because she worried for her possible failure and the implications that carried. Worried that it was all a charade—an elaborate charade in which the Siths would follow her into a trap. She could very well wind up in a cell, caught like a fish in a net, the bait being Andell Kovares’ generous offer to return Ryvo’s parents. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. TOS would offer the Lorells for release—or a secret escape, rather—somebody would come to the rescue and then they would be trapped. Xanthis knew Ryvo was openly working with Sith Squadron. He would volunteer to go, and sabotage the defense systems while he was there, leading to an attack by the Siths. And then Xanthis would close his trap on them.

     No. It was too simplistic, along the lines of a plot from an animated holovid. It relied heavily on the supposed stupidity of the Siths. Xanthis wasn’t so stupid himself as to underestimate the intelligence of his nemeses. He couldn’t even know who would be sent. After all…

     Who would be sent…but the member of Sith Squadron who had carved a niche for impulsiveness? Who would be sent…but the member of Sith Squadron who would be welcomed into the TOS fold as a brainwashed operative? Who would be more willing to go…than the love interest of the son of those to be rescued?

     That was it…Xanthis knew his scheme to reprogram Skate had failed…else the SSD would be in his possession or destroyed. It hadn’t quite gone the way he had expected at Reuss VIII. His Trojan horse had been found out, and he knew it. So he hatched this plan to have his benevolent new general offer Ryvo’s parents for rescue.

     But no. Neither she nor Thunder had detected any deception from Jeevers. He had not lied when he had unveiled the offer from Kovares. Then again, he may just have been a pawn in this game…the line from the handle to the net. Still, she may have been stretching it a bit, reading too far into it. It was just another example of her impulsiveness. The fact was that whether or not it was a trap, Xanthis would expect her to appear as if she were under his control, so that’s the way she would play it.

     Nonetheless, there was still the chance of her failing the mission. And again it was not her own ass she was worried about. It was the fact that Ryvo would lose his chance at seeing his parents alive again, at them seeing him. At her seeing him. In a weird way, she hated the fact that she was concerned over the possibility of never seeing him again, never speaking to him again, never touching him again. This was the one thing she was not impulsive about. It was not in her nature to rush in with reckless abandon into Ryvo’s heart, to open hers to him. And in no way was that a bad thing. Over the last month she had, day by day, come to know Ryvo, to care for him, to…love him? If she didn’t now, then she was surely on that path.

     There was a tap on the door.

     “Yeah?”

     The door slid open to reveal Jeevers. “Thirty minutes, approximately.”

     “Understood,” Skate said, sliding her legs over the side of the bed. She had changed into a jumpsuit before leaving Celanon, giving more of a casual aspect to her appearance than denim and leather.

     Jeevers headed back down the corridor without saying another word. If she was unsure about this, then he had to be outright terrified.

     Skate pulled her legs up onto the bunk and closed her eyes. She breathed in and out, inhaling rage and exhaling fire. It calmed her nerves, but not to the point of weakness, not to the point of letting her guard down.

     In what seemed like mere moments, she was brought out of her meditation by a voice coming from the intercom. “Entering orbit.”

     Skate pushed up off the bunk and went to the small table. She picked up a set of binders and put them on her wrists. She had slept with her boots on, so there was nothing more to do. She moved into the corridor and made her way to the main hatch, where two Trade Federation battle droids awaited. They were more beat up than usual…dents and scratches abundant on their skeletal frames. Standing between them, she hit the switch on the intercom panel next to the hatch.

     “In position,” she said.

     Without reply, the two droids flanking her came to life. Their lifeless eyes regarded her, then stood at attention, receiving orders from wherever the short-range transmitter was located aboard the ship.

     “Escort the prisoner to the drop ship,” one said.

     “Roger, roger.”

     Standing there, in between the two artificial machines of war, in a strange ship, in a system far from any known trade routes, she finally grasped how deep in she was. In the midst of her enemy’s lair. There was no turning back now, even if she wanted to. There was only one way to go: forward. And there were only two destinations on that path: success and failure.

     …the line very, very fine…

     “What do you mean you can’t let me go?” Jace asked, eyes narrowed. He stood in one of the myriad storage rooms that the Broken Tusk had.

     “This is your language, can you not decipher it?” Leko Akude responded, his voice a gurgle under the strange mask on his face. As best as Jace could describe it, it was a cross between a crustacean and an arachnid…on steroids. Jace had seen wrestlers wear masks before, but none like this.

     “Can you not?” Jace shot back. “I mean why?”

     “I now own this arena,” Akude said. “I will not let you jeopardize my opportunity. You hold a secret about me that I can’t risk letting out. I will not let you leave with that secret, for it could very well bring about my destruction, and that of my love.”

     “Look, Akude, we’ve been over this,” Jace said, stepping forward menacingly. “I don’t see how you’re going to stop me.”

     “Then I will show you.”

     Akude assumed a battle stance, his amphistaff at the ready.

     “Don’t be an idiot,” Jace said. “It was foolish challenging me the way you did. If my comrade caught wind of anything at all, she will become suspicious, risking not only your situation but mine as well. I would not be so forgiving if that were to happen.”

     “That sounds like a threat,” Akude said.

     “And what you said didn’t?”

     “But mine is legitimate.”

     Jace nodded. “Need I remind you of—“

     “Please note the…thing…on my mouth and nose,” Akude said. “Your version of an oxygen supply.”

     “Yes,” Jace said, dragging the word out. “I do need to remind you.”

     Suddenly, spanners sprang from a shelf on the wall, their sharp points slashing into the hideous attachment on Akude’s face. The alien had no time to react. Others objects in the room came to life, soaring right at him. He blocked as many as he could with his amphistaff. Boxes, tools, brooms, and other items were either batted away or slammed into Akude. Then he stopped abruptly, clutching at his neck with one hand.

     Jace held up his lightsaber, waved it around. “It doesn’t take a genius to get around your…ability. Now, despite this small incident, I will offer you the chance to let us leave peacefully. Your secret is safe with me. Your other option…is to die. I don’t know about you, but I’d call that quite a bargain.”

     Akude slowly nodded, still holding his neck. Jace released his Force bubble, allowing air to enter into the space around Akude’s head. The alien gasped with the air filling his lungs.

     “Now, don’t you owe me something?” Jace asked.

     “An apology?” Akude mocked.

     “No, of course not,” Jace said in an admonishing tone. “How about some thanks? I essentially handed this company over to you. You owe me.”

     Akude bowed derisively. “I am forever in your debt.”

     “I’m glad we agree on that,” Jace said, clasping his hands behind his back.

     He exited into the hallway and made his way back to the door leading to the side stage storage room. Jen, Tyros, the Devaronian and Reema stood there, that latter two in bandages and binders, respectively. Jace gave a sharp hand signal and they exited. The quartet followed him and Akude until they reached the gorilla position. A few members of the production crew were back, warily peering out of the slit in the curtains at the aftermath of the twofold violence.

     Jace located the person he needed. He approached the white tuxedo-clad special ring announcer.

     “Give me your mic,” Jace ordered. No Force suggestion was necessary.

     The graying man handed over the cordless microphone without hesitation.

     Jace spoke into it. “FROSTO…Frosto…Frosto…”

     He winced at the echo effect and exasperatingly looked over the microphone. He switched it to normal.

     “Frosto…we have your wife,” Jace said. “She’s safe and she will stay so, no matter what. But she will not be returned to you until you follow my terms unconditionally. You will have your surviving troops in and outside of the building surrender their weapons and slowly leave the premises on foot. You will not interfere with us as we make our way off the planet. Once out of orbit, your wife will be ejected in an escape pod emitting a specific signal. No arguments, no heroics…you won’t win, Frosto. This is a great offer. You should take it.”

     Jace handed the mic back to the announcer. He turned to Tyros.

     “Contact your men and ask them if Frosto is complying.”

     Tyros slipped his helmet back on and chattered away on the comlink. After a few seconds, Tyros nodded.

     “What you do with me?” the Devaronian asked.

     Jace looked at the Devaronian. The alien had lied to Jace, had his guards attempt to kill him—once in cold blood—and he’d made money off of Jace’s wins all the while. All in all, he didn’t deserve to walk away without paying for what he had done. But there was something about the old devil that Jace liked. And he hadn’t carry out the offenses against Jace out of malice or with any knowledge of what he was getting into. In fact, TOS may have given him no choice. And the Devaronian was old…this was just another job to him.

     No…Jace had a much better idea for a way to punish him.

     “You can start by transferring all the credits you won to Akude’s account,” Jace said. “He owns this arena now, and he’s going to need funds to repair it. While whatever you offer won’t pay for it all, it will help.”

     The Devaronian looked downtrodden. “That all?”

     “Just check in with your new boss,” Jace said. “That would be Akude. I’ll be in contact with him. Heh…and he’ll be in contact with you.”

     Jace turned and walked away.

     “What that mean? Hey you! Sithy! What that mean?!”

     Jace looked over at Akude, asked under his breath “what does that mean?”

     “It’s called a squash match,” Akude said.

     “Sounds good to me,” Jace said. He slapped Akude on the shoulder. “See you around.”

     The Devaronian’s pleading continued, but Jace and his party kept going, weaving through the corridors and exiting through a side door into an alleyway. Instantly, he remembered the toxic atmosphere. He turned to Jen, who tossed him a breather from her belt. Jen donned her own and took Reema’s from her jumpsuit, putting it on the slim woman’s face.

     “How did you get here?” Jace asked Tyros.

     “The Just Like That,” Tyros said simply, his voice tinny through the helmet speakers. “Under a different name, of course. I came out of the bacta tank yesterday, got suited up and moved in with my team.”

     “Your team,” Jace echoed. “What is all that about?”

     “After the Trebaum situation, I think we’ve all felt…vulnerable. So since then I’ve been training a select group of troops,” Tyros explained. “I made sure they were assigned to the Twist of Fate before we left. These are men who are completely loyal and trustworthy, through and through. They are the best of the best, and granted I haven’t even scratched the surface in their training, but after I’m finished with them, they will be almost as good as me.”

     “Don’t be modest now,” Jace said, holding a hand up.

     “Snazzy outfits,” Jen said.

     “I think so,” Tyros said self-consciously, as if Jen was not being sincere. “Fitting for the Red Fangs.”

     “Red Fangs,” Jen said. “That has a nice ring to it. Jace, where the hell are we going?”

     “Ask him,” Jace said, jabbing a thumb at Tyros.

     “Bay 51,” Tyros said.

     “Have Rick and them meet us there,” Jace ordered to Jen before looking at Tyros. “Where’s Bay 51?”

     Jen gestured at the alleyway’s floor. It was covered with dirt, clutter, and spots where derelicts had obviously chosen to relieve themselves. “Follow the yellow bricked road.”

     Jace shook his head. Aside from the fact this his mission on Reuss VIII had been an utter failure—gleaning no information on the TOS base’s location aside from a lead on the Teno figure from the pirate gang, who had probably hightailed it after hearing of the fiasco at the Broken Tusk—another plus point to leaving would be the chance to finally get away from Jen. Her jokes were wearing thin, descending upon him like the poisonous air of Reuss VIII.

     If his control of the Force was his analogous breath mask, then he didn’t know how long it would be until it failed, the air entering his system. Then he would have to strike back at it, pushing it out of his system, out of his vicinity, until it was never to be seen again.

     Yes, it was a very good thing that he was leaving Reuss VIII.

     Stillness. Clarity. Freedom…no, breathing room was a better term.

     These were the things that Jace felt as the Twist of Fate moved through the chaos of hyperspace. The fact that he found solace while being surrounded by the universally described “chaos” of the extradimensional region known as hyperspace didn’t strike Jace as ironic…because he didn’t realize it, engrossed as he was in his meditation. After being surrounded by so many beings, packed like sardines in that detestable arena, it was great to be relatively alone. The silent rage of the dark side of the Force filled him, like oxygen filling infinite lungs, only to be released when it was so desired, like a self-exorcism of the fire within his soul. The dark side replenished, fulfilled and met his every expectation.

     All but one.

     He knew it would come, though. Two months, three months, a year, ten years…it didn’t matter. All that did matter was that it was on Fate’s agenda. But he couldn’t leave it to some abstract force of the universe—no pun intended—to let it come to pass. He had to make it happen.

     And make it happen he would. Because it was his reason for living. The core of his being. The driving force in his life. It…was his life. And ultimately, it was his death. But…was there any difference? After all he had been through in his astronomically short time in existence…was there any difference? The spirits of Sith Lords and Jedi were told of in myth, returning from beyond the grave to take form, to speak, to manipulate. But that is not what distorted the line between life and death for Jace. It was the pain, the regret, the missed opportunities…of the life he was supposed to have. He had been denied that life, so he stood in the foggy limbo between it and death. The death that would never come…because he had never lived in the first place.

     And the guardian to the gates of life, standing shrouded in the mist was Reno. Baron Reno. Master Reno. He had locked the gates and destroyed the key, isolating Jace from that promising future. And standing at the gateway to death was…Reno. But he stood at this entrance with his back to Jace. Unwitting. Exposed. Completely unprepared to defend the gates. But he still stood in the way, an obstruction that could not be passed through. The gates could not be entered until vengeance was exacted, until the obstruction was removed. The haze cleared momentarily, revealing on the path to death a gaffi stick rising up from the ground. Jace eagerly grabbed the vaguely familiar weapon, raised it over his head and ran towards Reno, prepared to strike. A veil of dark fog passed in front of his eyes for the briefest of moments…and then Reno was gone. The gates…gone.

     Jace slammed the gaffi stick down in anger, and it too began to fade, but not fully. It was still there, a possibility. If he could just find Reno. He needed to find Reno. He had to find Reno. He would find Reno! HE WOULD!

     Then the fog seemed to slowly recede, spreading out, thinning, until it formed another substance. Snow. As far as the eye could see. It covered the vast plains, the distant mountain range, the…castle? Was it a castle? Jace began floating, up a few meters, then forward, slowly at first, then accelerating. He soared over the icy surface straight for the castle at the base of the mountains. He didn’t so much as flinch when it became clear that he was heading right for the wall. Without slowing, he passed through it like a specter, along a stone hallway, down a spiraling stairwell, into a wide torch lit great hall.

     And there, in the center of the chamber was Reno. He was on his knees, hands tied behind his back. His clothing was torn and dirty…and covered in blood. Jace looked closer, and found the source of the blood. A long scar—no, crack—ran along Reno skull at an angle, ending on his forehead.

     Slowly, Reno’s head rose. Joining the pool of blood on the ground were tears.

     “HELP!”

     It echoed through Jace’s mind, bringing him out of his trance.

     Andell strode through the corridors of the TOS base, a sureness in his step that he hadn’t felt in…years? The door to the control room opened like a gateway into the dark abyss of perdition. He stepped through and almost immediately laughed at the irony his observation; the devil himself stood in the control room. Xanthis was standing near a control station. His presence in itself was a rare occurrence and it made Andell uneasy.

     “Ah, General,” Xanthis said, twisting to look at—to face, rather—Andell. “I have news. Our mole has returned. She is in Lab One awaiting your treatment.”

     “Yes, my Lord,” Andell said, spinning on his heel to head back out the door. Someone from Sith Squadron had arrived sooner than he’d expected, although it was the one he’d expected. And of course, it had happened when he had been asleep.

     “That’s not all the news, General,” Xanthis said slyly. “Also…the group you sent to Reuss Eight has been decimated. Apparently wiped out by both Jace Sidrona and a faction he is apparently aligned with. Oh, and I’m told there are even reports of spectators at an arena taking up arms against us.”

     Xanthis said the last part as if the news intrigued him. Andell took it in as if he were drinking bile, which he figuratively was.

     “We must ascertain how and why this happened,” Andell said slowly. “Apparently, there was a shortfall of information from my contact. I will get on it as soon as I am able, Lord Xanthis. And now, if you’ll permit my—“

     “That’s not all the news, General,” Xanthis said, this time with a touch of anger. “You still haven’t been able to secure warships to replace the Last Dance and Nail in the Coffin.”

     “I apologize, my Lord,” Andell said, making a supplicating gesture. “I admit I’ve become preoccupied, but it will be my first priority. Nothing is more important than the safety and security of the base.”

     “Yes,” Xanthis said, although it didn’t sound like an agreement. He aimed his empty eye sockets at Andell. After a short time, he nodded. “The lab.”

     Andell genuflected and left the control room. He did not betray any fear he might have felt…until he was down the hall. Had Xanthis figured it out? Perhaps Andell had overestimated his ability to deceive and lie to the dark lord. Maybe the counterbalance for Xanthis’ lack of eyes and sight was that he could “see” through deception. But Andell had been through this…over and over again. He felt confident that Xanthis suspected nothing. Nothing but incompetence on the General’s part. That was why Xanthis had been condescending, aside from the fact that he was Xanthis. And besides, if Xanthis suspected or knew anything, would Andell even be walking, let alone breathing?

     He entered the main lab, the doors flanked by battle droids of the super type. If the standard battle droids reminded Andell of skeletons, then these monstrous machines were their sarcophaguses.

     He saw her sitting on the table. Two of the aforementioned skeletons flanked her, blasters at the ready. She turned at sound of the door opening. Her black, waist-length hair, her blue eyes, her milky white skin…were just as he remembered them. She regarded him with her eyebrows. At first, he thought the project he had begun dabbling in had already paid off, that he’d brought her back from what most people called “death.” But then he approached her, and the closer he got…the more different she looked.

     “What are you smiling at?” she asked, her voice sounding quite different than he remembered it.

     When he finally stood before her, the metamorphosis was complete. She now had short red hair, green eyes and clothing he thought she’d never wear, even to a masquerade party. This wasn’t her at all. This was the mole.

     “I’m sorry,” Andell said. “I’m lacking sleep. I’m sure you know how that is.”

     “Is that supposed to mean something?” she asked angrily.

     “Of course not…I was just making small talk.”

     She looked him up and down. “It fits you.”

     He turned around to the wheeled cart and grabbed a few items from the top tray. He held a medical scanner to her head and waved it around. After several moments, it yielded the results: the custom-made drug he’d injected into her the last time they’d met was gone. No doubt that Star, Sith Squadron’s physician, had somehow found the elusive chemical in Skate’s brain. The fact that it was impossible to find unless you knew what you were looking for was a testament to Star’s aptitude in the fields of medicine, biology and chemistry.

     Andell nodded and hefted a syringe filled with a clear solution. It was filled with an untested serum that would cancel out the effects of the mind-controlling drug. Although Skate didn’t need it now that he knew the drug had already been removed from her system, the injection would still be employed as a show for whatever prying eyes were watching them. And they were there, Andell knew it.

     “It seems that you need another treatment,” Andell said. He looked into Skate’s eyes. The woman looked back, as if prying into his very soul. “Are you going to take it willingly, or do I have to restrain you? You do remember last time, don’t you?”

     The woman boldly offered her arm, her face stern. She had gotten the message.

     Andell wiped alcohol on her arm and held the syringe up in the air, looking at it like a mad scientist. He gently poked the needle into her arm, sending the serum into her bloodstream. She looked up at him in anger—some of it real, he imagined—and he gave her an ever so subtle quarter wink of the eye. She began to convulse, slowly at first, then more violently, so much that at an order from Andell, the droids holstered their blasters and grabbed her by the arms. The motive was supposedly to protect her from harming herself more than anyone else. She thrashed about, her face contorted in agony and she screamed. The sound unsettled Andell. He thought it would have been the perfect sound to accompany the “gate to perdition” analogy he’d thought of earlier when entering the control room.

     Finally she calmed, her breathing hard, and Andell checked her vitals again.

     “You’ll be all right. Maybe now you’ll remember who your real friends are.” He turned to the droids. “Put in her lockup for now.”

     “Yes, General,” one buzzed. They left with Skate still in their hands. The super battle droids followed.

     He stood in the lab, alone in thought. The plan was working. It was working behind Xanthis’ back, a feat he wouldn’t have thought possible a month, week, even a mere two days ago. Now he just had to execute the last few stages of the plan, and the last important act in his life, that of saving the lives of his parents—of Ryvo Lorell’s parents, rather—would be complete.

     But if he survived, then he could continue to work on what would surpass even that noble deed…of bringing her back to life. Because he knew it was possible. If he only had the time.

     The SSD appeared in the bridge viewport of the Twist of Fate. Jace stood with his arms crossed, feet planted. He imagined the perspective of the view was a few centimeters, so then he could grab the damn ship and throw it like a dart into the nearest convenient bullseye, which in this case was the orange star off to starboard. That was his anger. Anger at the failure of the mission. Anger at the effort he’d put to use on Reuss VIII to no good end. Anger at TOS for kidnapping Reno. Anger at Ryvo for his duplicity. Anger at Reno…for being Reno.

     After arriving at the Twist of Fate, hidden on the eleventh moon around Reuss X, Jace had dealt with the essential business before leaving the system: sending the remaining Shadow Phantom personnel to Torel Vorne, releasing Reema Frosto back to her husband and avoiding Rick at every turn. The kid had continually harassed Jace since they met up to depart from Reuss VIII, and Jace had brushed him off every time. It was as much for Rick’s benefit as his own: if the kid pissed him off enough, a tragedy could well occur, considering Jace’s ire.

     When all of those affairs had been settled, Jace had locked himself away in the captain’s cabin. He took a long, hot shower and went into a hibernation trance until now. The shower and rest hadn’t reduced his anger, but it has restored his control and helped him to put things back in perspective. And in turn, that had only kicked his anger up a few notches. It had made him realize that he was back at square one; that image of Reno, taunting him. The only thing left to do was find out how and how bad Ryvo and Skate had duped them.

     “We’re being hailed,” the comm officer called up.                           

     “Didn’t you already transmit the security code?”

     “Yes, sir, it’s Seven. He’s requesting to speak to you.”

     “Damn it,” Jace said, slamming his hand down on the captain’s chair comm panel. “What?”

     Seven’s face appeared in the small video screen. “Jace. Feeling lucky?”

     “I’m starting to have regrets about that Sullustan gin,” Eltrar said.

     “Catching up with you?” Garien asked.

     “No, no,” the captain said. “I mean we should have rationed it.”

     Garien laughed. “Are you developing a taste for it, Mr. Whyren’s?”

     “Of course not, but when it’s the only thing to drink, you don’t have of a choice, do you?” Eltrar said, his prim and proper intonations still strong, despite weeks in incarceration. For some reason, Garien found that funny.

     “Good point,” Garien agreed. He paused. “The same could be said of the food. But at least there’s an ongoing delivery of that stuff. So we do have a choice in that we can choose to eat, or choose not to.”

     The grating of metal on metal screeched through the cell bay.

     “It sounds like it time to make that choice right now.”

     Footsteps clumped and clanged down the cell bay, a door creaked open and then…SLAM! Metallic footfalls marched off, a grating sound and another slam drowning them out.

     “Or not,” Eltrar said with a sigh. “I think, if we don’t die in these cramp microcosms of hell, that I am going to kill you.”

     “And why would you do that, my dear captain?

     “Because you let that crazy kid lock you back up when we could have gotten OUT OF HERE!”

     Garien sighed. “Okay, but at least give me a dignified, honorable death. Use a rock and something. If you use your bare hands, it could be bloody and messy, and neither of those in my estimation are dignified or honorable.”

     Karisa’s whimper came from the darkness in the corner of the cell.

     “This is insane!” Jace exclaimed, partly overwhelmed and partly disbelieving.

     His skepticism was warranted. After going through hell on Reuss VIII, Thunder had gone to Celanon and after essentially doing nothing at all, the TOS base’s location had been simply handed over to her. But any anger over this was balanced by the joy of the good news, however unlikely it may have been. What also struck him was the fact that he had been partially correct in his assumption: Skate had returned to TOS. But Ryvo remained. Had their plan to escape Sith Squadron and return to their TOS masters not gone exactly as planned? Or had Ryvo remained to finish the job and destroy the SSD? Or…or…was the plan to ambush the SSD at the supposed TOS base, as has been attempted in the Reuss system? Jace realized that all those scenarios were just as unlikely as their luck in having the TOS base, for all intents and purposes, handed over to them. Even if there were logic in pursuing his paranoid concern over Ryvo and Skate, he was blinded by the prospect of the information brought back from Celanon. A proverbial spark being outshined by an equally proverbial supernova. 

     “Are you unhappy with the news?” Thunder asked, marching alongside him towards the hangar’s exit.

     “No, but…they just came out and told you?”

     “Just like that,” Thunder said, nodding. She cast a glance over her shoulder at the freighter Jace had taken over to the SSD. “No pun intended.”

     “Worst luck in the galaxy,” Jace muttered to himself.  He looked at Thunder. “I’m surprised you’re alive, let alone in once piece.”

     Thunder made a sympathetic face. “Surprised or disappointed?”

     “You hurt me, Lord Pilot Thunder,” Jace said with all the emotion of a frozen bag of sand. “On Reuss, we learned that Devaronian was working for TOS. He told them about the Antig tip. I suspected they’d have a legion of battle droids awaiting you. But…it seems you lucked out.”

     “While you were getting your ass kicked?”

     Jace scowled. He was the one that had been kicking ass. “I want everyone in the conference room, now. Including General Tam Pax.”

     “Take care of it,” Thunder ordered the trailing Seven, who ran off to an intercom panel.

     “So…have you ever met General Tam Pax?” Jace asked, an uncertain look on his face.

     “Yes. I see him at least once a month.”

     “I’ve never met him.”

     “He’s a very private person.”

     “So he doesn’t absorb well into groups?”

     “Not really. If I pull the right strings, I might be able to get him to attend.”

     “Well, he better attend. He must understand that he is disposable.”

     “Agreed. He can’t stay cramped up in his quarters all the time.”

     “He’s bloody brave to even try to defy a superior.”

     “Yes he is. But he’s a tactical genius. We’ll want him to take a look at the diaphragms—excuse me, diagrams—from the datacard we obtained on Celanon.”

     “Okay, then I want him up there in five minutes. Period.”

     Thunder split off as they exited the hangar and Jace headed for the nearest turbolift. He took it to the command deck and walked directly to the conference room. Star was already there. Jace stopped short in front of the doorway, not expecting anyone to be there yet.

     “Expeditious,” Jace said.

     Star shrugged and smiled. “I was on the bridge, so I wasn’t far. Besides, Thunder said it was your order. Why would I disobey an order from you?” She batted her eyes playfully.

     “I…” Jace began, genuinely at a loss for words.

     The door behind him hissed open to reveal Jen and Tyros standing there. It couldn’t have happened a moment too soon.

     “Are you checking ID’s?” Jen asked. “I forgot mine, but I swear I’m twenty-one.”

     Jace stepped back and waved her and Tyros in.

     “You could’ve held the turbolift for us, since you knew Thunder was ordering everyone here anyways,” Jen said, sweeping into the room.

     “If you would have left the ship when I did, I wouldn’t have had to hold the lift.”

     “Well, we were busy,” Jen said, falling into her seat. “We had…an intense game of… dejarik going.”

     “Of course,” Jace said, taking his own seat at the head of the table. “Come now, Jen, I thought you’d appreciate me letting you and Tyros have your own lift.”

     “Well, when you put it like that…”

     Within the next few minutes, every member of Sith Squadron filed into the room. In addition to the Siths, Ryvo, Meltdown, General Tam Pax and Nuprin were also present. Jace looked at each face in turn, and everyone met his gaze, a variety of emotions hidden or openly displayed. Jace himself tried to keep his face even, betraying nothing.

     “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re here.” He looked around the room, ready for questions, quips or quibbles. “The moment of truth. Since Reno’s capture—which seemed like it happened years ago—we’ve done nothing but search for him. We failed. But one thing we never gave up on was hope. And as fate would have it, that hope paid off where our proactiveness didn’t. But considering our goal, I will take the fate’s smiling upon us without complaint. For those of you who don’t already know, Thunder and her team were approached by an apparently disloyal TOS member. He supplied them with the location of TOS’ headquarters. According to him, the new TOS general for unknown reasons is offering Ryvo’s parents for release. This agent also took Skate with him to the HQ, to pose as a prisoner. She will be our infiltrator, getting Ryvo’s parents, and hopefully Reno, to safety before our attack. It is also hoped that she will be able to sabotage the defenses of the base, whatever they may be. I know this all sound extraordinary. I’m still reeling from it myself. But we will take this chance because at this point we have no choice and nothing to lose. For without Reno, there is no Sith Squadron…without him, we do not exist.”

     Jace paused, looking around the room.

     “So what’s the plan?” Seven asked, breaking the silence.

     “That’s what we’re here to figure out,” Jace said, his voice less grim than it been moments before in his quasi-speech. “And during our flight back, I came up with some pretty good ideas, if I do say so myself. And some of it involves some state of the art technology in deep storage. It needs to be brought up right away, do you understand?”

     He tossed a datapad to Nuprin.

     “Yes, Nuprin underst—what you want with this?!” the little alien exclaimed, then looked up at Jace’s expression. “Never mind, Nuprin understand. It will be coming soon.”

     “Good,” Jace said, dragging the word out. “Now, what…reassurance do we have that this is not a trap and that Skate will be able to do a number on their defenses before we arrive? What is our timetable?”

     “The way he talked, Jeevers didn’t think there would be any considerable delay,” Thunder said. “And they must have arrived by now.”

     Jace nodded. “Okay, we’re going to go with ASAP, then.”

     “But, we do have some bad news to go with the good,” Thunder warned. “Jeevers was also under the impression that Reno has been moved from the base.”

     Jace closed his eyes. He wouldn’t let his feelings show in front of the whole squadron. They’d think he was only pained by the bad news…which he was, just for other reasons than they would think.

     “What do we know about the base?” he asked slowly, eyes still closed.

     “It’s located on Zhar Delba, a planet in an uncharted system far in the Outer Rim. They built the base into a mountain on the northern polar cap—“

     “Polar cap?!” Jace exclaimed, his eyes opening. “You mean like ice and snow?”

     “Uh, yeah,” Thunder said, looking at Jace as if banthas were leaping out of his ears. “The planet’s rotational axis is twenty-one degrees.”

     “He’s there!”

     “Jace,” Thunder said slowly. “You told us that when you were on the Terror of Space you learned Reno was taken away on a different shuttle than Gimmer and Vanicus.”

     Jace shook his head. “They were just trying to throw us off! Security precautions! Don’t you see?”

     “But Jeevers—“

     “Jeevers creepers!” Jace said, waving a hand. “Reno is on this Zhar Delba. And I want to come up with a tactical layout to get him out of there. We’ve got the SSD, the most powerful warship ever created. We’ve got that Strike cruiser out there, ready to use as poetic justice on their asses. And here we’ve got the greatest assemblage of brilliant minds I’ve never seen. Now, let’s hear those ideas.”

     Skate allowed the droids to escort her to a cell in a dank, dungeon-like system of tunnels. Several battle droids were station in the central save, blasters held across their chests, ready for whatever crises may occur. But here, in one of the rocky, dusty cell bays there were no guards. She was pretty sure that droids patrolled the tunnels on around-the-clock rounds, but she was still relatively uninhibited to do what she may.

     If she used TK to open the door to the cell, the droids audio sensors would no doubt pick up the sound and be here within seconds. Perhaps somebody would come for her. Kovares himself, maybe. Jeevers had said a ship would be provided. The fact was that she just didn’t know, and it bothered her. She would have to wait and see how things transpired. That was the only thing she could do.

     She crossed her legs and sat. Then she heard voices. She couldn’t make them out, but it was two men, that much she was sure of, and they sounded like they might be angry Skate shuddered at the implication…two angry men’s voices in a prison, locked away for who knows how long…

     Then she heard a loud “OUT OF HERE!”

     Coruscani accent. But no…it couldn’t have been Captain Vanicus’ voice. Well, it could have been, but the way Sith Squadron’s luck had been going, it seemed unlikely, even impossible. Then again, there had been the piece of good fortune in Jeevers’ message that had led Skate to her immediate situation. Either way, she couldn’t test her theory, as the droids may consider such a thing a red flag, and request instructions from their masters. No, she’d have to find another way.

     She examined the cell, and noticed something in the darkness. There was a patch of contrast standing out among the brown dirt. Probably a rock. She surprised to find that that it was plastic when she grabbed it. It was protruding from the ground, like some kind of strange alien plant. She pulled, and it gave way, revealing itself to be a bag. It was hard to tell in the gloom, but it looked dark blue in color. Skate cursed to herself. One couldn’t go anywhere, a cell in a subterranean cave on a distant planet not excluded, without seeing those damn blue bags scattered about.

     But the bag was heavy. There was something in it. She reached in and felt a…blaster? She pulled it out and ran her hands over the object. Not a blaster, but a fusion cutter, most likely. Something more was in the bag. She reached in again and felt the cold steel of a slim cylinder. Her lightblade!

     She was immediately on her feet, not to act, but out of excitement. Her options had just increased, multiplied by the factors these two items brought into the equation. She could use her blade to cut her blade to cut through the door, and fight her way out of this place. But there was the case of Ryvo’s parents being left behind in that scenario. She could cut her way out, then check all the cells in this cell bay. Even if the Lorells weren’t in this one, she was pretty sure Captain Vanicus was. With his help, they could…check every other cell in this dungeon the size of which she had no clue? And would the captain be in any condition to help her?

     She looked down at the fusion cutter in her other hand, weighed it in her hand like she was measuring its usefulness. Perhaps General Kovares had arranged for her to be locked up next to the Lorell’s cell. Of course he had. He couldn’t simply let them out, to save face with Xanthis. Evidently, he planned to pass this all off as a simple—or not so simple—escape.

     She gripped the fusion cutter and pulled the trigger. It made a low hum. She started on the wall to the left of the exit, as she was in the first cell in the hall. Every inch she cut away through the wall was another piece of TOS falling into nonexistence.

     Jace stepped into the place, looked down at the wooden floors. They weren’t polished, carved wood such that adorned so many ritzy establishments and homes throughout the galaxy. Rather, they were exactly the opposite: parallel boards nailed into cross board supports below. The wood was unsanded, and dotted with notches and imperfections. It creaked as Jace moved forward into the lounge.

     Wooden tables and chairs—these smoothed and treated, as they’d cause certain complications if they weren’t—were spread throughout the large room. Decorations hung on the walls, ranging from ancient firearms to modern farm implements. Jace recognized one as an agripole from his days as a farmboy. Off to the right a small bandstand held enough variety in instruments to satisfy any music enthusiast. And straight ahead from the entrance on the far wall ran the bar. It was polished wood like the tables and chairs, and stocked behind the counter with all size and shape of bottles, mugs, tumblers, and special cups for aliens with strange anatomy. Not that the SSD saw much alien traffic. That is, besides the operators of the establishment.

     Benny came from a curtained doorway behind the bar. “Hey, Jace.”

     “Benny,” Jace said, nodding and taking a seat.

     “Ace,” Benny said, shaking his head. “My friends call me Ace. You know that.”

     “And I’m your friend?” Jace asked in a tone that was more incredulous than inquisitive.

     Benny looked hurt. “Well, yeah. See, friends do this.”

     The musician placed a glass on the table and began to crack open a new bottle of Whyren’s from an overhead shelf.

     Jace held a hand up. “Just water, please.”

     “Everyone else seems to think that this is the drink of choice around here,” Benny pressured him.

     “I know,” Jace said. “But I’ll have water.”

     Benny frowned and shrugged, returning the Whyren’s to its place. “Water it is.”

     Jace took a sip from the poured glass of water. “Benny, uh, Ace, have you ever come to a point in life where you’re on the verge of completing something so important to you, so vital, when it just all falls through?”

     “Sure,” Benny said, leaning on the bar. “Many times. Like, I remember growing up on that urban nightmare we call Sova, and taking any chance I could get to just get away from it all. From the noise, the smells…just the whole quick-paced lifestyle. Me and my friends went to a camp on Durigan—that’s the habitable moon around Sova—every standard year. We’d pitch tents in the forest, sit around a campfire, sings songs. Well, one year, they told us that there weren’t enough kids going from our district, or something to that effect. We couldn’t go with another district because of the usual red tape. I was devastated. Some of the other kids might not have cared, but I know I did. After a year of looking forward to it, it was just gone. All of my excitement over the fishing, the singing, the stargazing…all for nothing.

     So all the parents of the kids wanting to go—only a few dozen or so—wrote letters. The kids even wrote letters. Heh, I did. We were sure it wouldn’t do any good. But, Holt Kie, one of the four members of the S.H.A.R. Ruling Council, personally contacted the district administrator and made sure we went on that trip. Holt Kie was the first non-Asova member of the Ruling Council, so he probably made the move for good publicity. But whatever his motivations, he did it. One person can’t really make a difference—“

     “Unless you’re a member of the Ruling Council?”

     Benny winced. “You know what I mean…the people. But when they get together and work towards a common goal, then it can be realized. One man’s death essentially closed the book on the Empire’s chapter in history, but who was it that brought that death about? Millions of beings working to achieve that end. And no matter who it was that actually ‘pulled the trigger,’ so to speak, it was the people who put that person in that position.”

     Jace took a swig of his water, and stared at the glass. It made sense. For weeks he had been obsessed with hunting down Reno that he had made so many mistakes. He almost got himself killed, if not for the help of Jeminn Carr. He had trusted Ryvo Lorell, a man’s whose checkered past spoke for itself in terms of dependability, to lead him down a path that saw Jace fighting in a phony wrestling show in front of the lowest dregs of galactic society. He had become entangled in a power struggle with Thunder, all because of his obsession of bringing Reno back into the fold, and his need to control that venture.

     All of that, when he should have been working as a team with the rest of Sith Squadron. As much as it made him sick to admit it, it was true. He sometimes forgot that they, too, wanted Reno back as bad as he did. It was for very different reasons, of course, but it was the desire, not the motive, that drove people to success. He had failed to harness that desire, to use it to achieve their common goal.

     And yet…apparently that goal was about to be achieved, regardless. But that had just been nothing more than a fluke, a stroke of luck, a twist of fate. Or was it? Thunder had told him that there was such a thing as destiny. From the ways things were starting to unfold in front of Jace, he was beginning to believe it. He always felt that he had a purpose to live in completing that which he knew he had to do. But was it destined to happen?

     A thought occurred to Jace. Accompanying destiny on the ethereal plane was poetic justice. That personal cause Jace had been living for was to bring about poetic justice on Reno. But it was entirely possible that the cruel hand of irony was also at work. If Jace allowed himself to believe his goal and destiny were one in the same, poetic justice could very well come knocking on his door in the dead of night, bringing him down while on the brink of fulfillment. Everything he intended for Reno could instead happen to him. That thought scared Jace. He could not leave his life in the hands of destiny. He must remain vigilant to that which would thwart him. He must remain steadfast in his goals.

     “Jace? You okay?”

     “Yeah, I was just thinking.”

     “Well, do you feel better now?”

     “In a way,” Jace admitted.

     “I’ll tell you what,” Benny said, nodding. “I know exactly what would cheer you up. There is this song that reminds me of you right now. I can have Nesha come out and sing it, so it won’t be weird or anything. It’s one of—“

     “Hey, I can’t,” Jace said, draining his glass. “I’ve got to go take care of something.”

     Benny looked disappointed. “All right. Maybe some other time.”

     “Thanks for the drink.”

     “It was water,” Benny said, shrugging.

     “On Tatooine, we learn not to take it for granted. See ya.”

     Jace left the lounge and made his way to the nearest turbolift. It only took a few minutes to get to his destination. When he got there, he hit the door chime twice.

     The door opened. “I thought we were supposed to be getting rested up.”

     “We need to have a talk, Ryvo,” Jace said. When Ryvo nodded but didn’t move, Jace turned sardonic. “I need to come in?”

     “Yeah!” Ryvo said, raising a finger. “I can lay out a sleeping bag and make some hot chocolate. No, I’ve got it! We can eat popcorn and play video games until we fall asleep!”

     Jace entered the room, wincing. “Please don’t start. I’ve got a squad full of that to deal with already.”

     Jace took a look around the quarters. He was mildly surprised not to see Skate.

     “So what’s up, Jace?” Ryvo asked, sitting on a chair backwards, “cool” style. “What do I owe your visit at this ungodly hour?”

     “You owe me some explanations,” Jace said calmly. He took his own seat at the table. “Are you aware of what transpired on Reuss? Did you read the reports?”

     “Of course I did,” Ryvo said. “And?”

     “And if you were in my position, what would all of that imply?”

     Ryvo sighed, apparently in thought. “That…I’d overcome a lifelong ailment of dyslexia?”

     Jace raised his chin threateningly.

     “Okay, okay, I know it looks a bit suspicious, and I can’t explain it,” Ryvo said, now serious. “But you were the one who sent me away to Celanon.”

     “You didn’t refuse with very much effort,” Jace observed.

     Ryvo buried his face in his hands. “Guys like you…confuse me. You give an order. We follow it…we get in trouble. We argue…it’s insubordination. Look, I don’t know what is with Prestin. I suppose his good sense was somehow eclipsed by the prospect of taking you in. And Resik’s murder didn’t help any, either, since he probably thought it was you who did it.”

     “Yes,” Jace said slowly. “Resik. Perhaps you had your TOS friends kill him. You knew that would set Frosto off. TOS would just have to come in and pick up the pieces that Frosto left. Or, if anything, Frosto would have been an annoyance that I didn’t need.”

     Ryvo was laughing by that point. “But it didn’t happen that way, did it, Jace? TOS arrived before Prestin even fired a shot. Hell, they fired at each other.” Ryvo grew serious, holding his hand up, as if to share a secret. “Maybe I intended for you to get caught up in the crossfire, so I told my buddies to make their move when Prestin did. That way, they could lose more assets in the process, rather than wait for him to finish with you.”

     Jace sighed. “Look, I just feel like you’re hiding something. The only thing that will sate this suspicion is a deep mind probe.”

     “I don’t swing that way.”

     “Skate will get one, too, when we catch up to her,” Jace said, ignoring the remark. “I can’t have you undermining this mission. Or the squadron. And, if nothing else, your involvement with the Rebellion is a red flag.”

     “Hey, I do have something to hide,” Ryvo said. “Lots of things. It’s funny you mention the Rebellion. I left the Alliance under terms I wouldn’t call great. After Endor, we attacked the Imperial presence on my world. My squadron jumped in and attacked the small force of ships in orbit while the resistance on the ground made their move. I disobeyed orders and went planetside. After helping the ground forces make it past the garrison base’s outer defenses, I landed. I charged in like a feral bantha, bereft of caution. I had a blaster and a vibroblade. Whenever I got the chance, I used the latter, slashing the throats of officers, technicians, whoever I crossed paths with. Somehow, I made it all the way to the inner sanctum of the Imperial governor. The resistance fighters tried to stop me, but they failed in their attempt. I threw that vibroblade at that Imp, and it went right into his skull.

     “I didn’t get discharged or anything like that. But I didn’t get any medals, either. They politely asked me—in that oh-so-polite Rebel manner—to resign. They told me I was too brutal to represent their righteous cause. They were trying to distance themselves from groups like the Justice Action Network, and I guess my actions resembled people like them a bit too much. So I resigned…leaving a trail of blood in my wake. I guess I just felt that Imp didn’t deserve any more mercy than his men did. I’m not big on mercy. I want to show that to TOS.”

     Jace nodded. “I understand that. But I have to know I can trust you. Surely you can understand that.”

     “I’ve got nothing to hide that would put my loyalty in question,” Ryvo added, as if to amend his earlier admission.

     “Then you should have no problem passing.” Jace raised his eyebrows. “Right?”

     “I guess you’ve got a point,” Ryvo admitted.

     “And don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me.”

     Ryvo narrowed his eyes. “Secrets?”

     “Any that I may come across in the probe. They’re safe.”

     And they were. For if Ryvo caught wind of Jace revealing private thoughts and memories, then perhaps there would be a call for a deep mind probe on Jace, and that was something that could not happen. There was a fine line between remaining vigilant to that which would thwart him and overcompensating, causing that vigilance to be brought back on him tenfold.

     After hours of using the tiny fusion cutter, Skate broke through the thick wall of stone. It was just a fist-sized hole, but it was far enough. After running the cutter in two lines from the hole to the ground, she lay on her back and kicked the wall with both feet. It took several tries, but she finally crumpled the wall.

     She crawled through the hole.

     “What?” a man’s voice gasped. “What do you want?”

     “Calm down,” Skate said smoothly, trying to send good intentions through the Force. “I’m here to help.”

     “Ryvo sent you?” the man asked, a hint of pride in his voice. “Are you from the New Republic? How many people did you bring?”

     “I am not from the Republic,” Skate said evenly. “And I came alone.”

     “But Ryvo sent you?”

     “Yes.”

     Hands clapped together. “Ha, I knew it!”

     “Sir, please try not to make too much noise,” Skate pleaded. “The guards may hear and become suspicious.”

     “Sir?” the man said, sounding affronted. “My name is Garien. What’s yours?”

     “Skate. And it’s a pleasure.”

     She somehow found his hand in the darkness.

     “This is my wife Karisa,” Garien said. “She’s probably too terrified to speak right now, so you’ll have to forgive her. So, if you’re not from the New Republic, then where are you from? Some kind of hero-for-hire service?”

     “Actually, I’m from Sith Squadron,” Skate said. “Is Eltrar Vanicus in one of these cells?”

     There was a pause, then laughter. “This is a joke. It’s a joke, isn’t it? Eltrar somehow put you up to this.”

     “Uh, no,” Skate said. “I heard his voice earlier. He sounded angry.”

     “He was,” Garien said. “It’s a long story.”

     “You could say mine is, too, so we’ll save all that for later,” Skate said. “Right now, we need to concentrate on getting the hell out of here. Now, where is Captain Vanicus?”

     “He’s in that cell across the way there,” Garien answered. “Here, let me get him for you.” He lowered his voice to a loud whisper. “Eltrar! I told you I was right.”

     “What is all this ruckus?” Captain Vanicus’ distinct voice came from the cell Ryvo’s father had indicated. “Sleeping is better than hungering, you know.”

     “Captain, it’s me, Skate.”

     “Skate. Skate. Lady Skate? What?”

     “Yes, I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m here,” she said. “We’re going to escape, but I need to know your condition. Can all of you walk? Run?”

     “I can’t run,” Garien said. “I just can’t.”

     “I don’t know that I could run well if I’d never been locked up in this dark, dirty place,” Vanicus said. “But if it means getting out of here, I’m sure I can at least walk really fast.”

     “I can run,” Skate heard Gimmer’s voice proclaim in an overenthusiastic tone.

     “Okay, Gimmer, then you and I will run off and leave these three here to stay behind as cover. I mean, who’d fix our snubs if you weren’t returned safely to the SSD?”

     “I hate to do it, but okay, if you say so,” Gimmer said remorsefully.

     “Gimmer, I was being facetious.”

     Gimmer’s voice slumped. “Well, you did ask who could run.”

     “Obviously I should’ve asked whose brain could,” Skate said. “Now, when we get out of here, I want you all to stick as close to me as you can. I will protect you.”

     “When do we make our move?” Vanicus asked.

     “I…don’t know,” Skate said, genuinely struck by the question. “I guess if we wait here the signal will come. In what form and how long it will take, I don’t know. But I just know we have to wait.”

     “Okay,” Vanicus accepted. “But when the time does come, how do we get these doors open?”

     Skate gripped her lightblade. “I have ways.”

     “Yes, I suppose you do,” Vanicus said, and Skate could just imagine the expression on his face.

     “This is ridiculous. It’s insulting. It’s—“

     “It’s time for you to shut the hell up, Narska,” Rick finished for him.

     The Bothan looked over at him. “You’re enjoying this?”

     “No,” Rick said, shaking his head.

     And he wasn’t. He was, in fact, angry that Jace had sent him on another suicide mission. What angered him even more was that he had been teamed with Narska for the mission. And he was angered beyond the reason that the Bothan was smug and flat out difficult to work with. It was because of what he had found in the sewers on Reuss VIII, the piece of skin of the dead man who’d been following them. The skin that he’d been forced to dispose of due to the smell, not wanting to rouse any suspicion from obvious parties.

     He’d tried to tell Jace about what he’d found, but the acting leader of Sith Squadron would hear none of it. Rick was sick and tired of being the water boy on the team. Next to Thunder, he thought he was the most powerful. Okay, maybe the most promising in terms of potential, but he believed he could give Jace a run for his money. Okay, maybe after five or ten years of training.

     Still, he felt he was neglected in his training and underutilized in key missions. Such as this one, piloting the ship that Thunder, Skate and Ryvo had acquired on Celanon. It had belonged to one Drolen Antig, who was an associate of TOS. Rick and Narska were essentially to fly into the thick of the enemy, under the thin veil of a transparent cover that was Antig’s “friendly” ship. Once there, they’d release the specialized equipment Jace had had Nuprin retrieve from deep storage on the SSD. The very thought of this also made the anger well up in Rick. Jace wouldn’t reveal what the “state of the art” equipment did, but when the briefing had been adjourned, Thunder, Jen and Tyros had stayed behind. Rick was sure that Jace had told them what the stuff was.

     After jumping to hyperspace, Rick had even cracked the hold open, taking a look. They were several large satellites of some kind. Narska had simply shrugged with disinterest and returned to the cockpit. Rick could only assume they were some kind of orbital bombardment platforms.

     “No, I’m not enjoying it,” Rick continued. “But I’m tired of hearing your bitching.”

     Narska huffed.

     Rick knew he was destined for greatness and with Reno missing, who would there be to train him along that path? Rick would have to reconsider his current station in life if things didn’t turn around. Perhaps this mission would see Reno’s return. And perhaps that would build the bridge to restore Rick’s path to greatness.

     Or perhaps it would widen the chasm.

     Andell made his way to Xanthis’ chamber. This in itself was not out of the ordinary, but the fact that he had not been summoned was. Also unique was that it could turn out to be the last time he entered the chamber. Or any chamber at all, aside from that hellish one in the afterlife myriad myths spoke of.

     The doors opened and Andell was surprised to find the lights on. Xanthis was sitting on his chair, turning Skate’s lightsaber over in his hands, examining it. The dark lord raised his head, put his eyeless glare on Andell.

     “Problem, General?”

     “Yes,” Andell said, nodding, “yes there is.”

     “And what would that be?” Xanthis asked, sounding interested.

     “The problem is that I am sick and tired of this,” Andell said. “I want to resign my position.”

     “Sick and tired of what?” Xanthis asked. He was still calmer than Andell had predicted he would be by this point.

     Andell steeled himself, more to contain his excitement than anything else. “Of taking orders from someone with less intelligence than my own.”

     Xanthis laughed. “You think you’re smart, General? Undergraduate degrees, prize-potential papers on neurology and you think you’re smart.” The laughing had stopped by that point. “And nothing makes you feel smarter than being around those you perceive as being stupid and ignorant. Well, perhaps you’ve been in that situation for too long. Perhaps you’ve become dumbed down by us simpletons, and in doing so, made the biggest mistake of your life. Or should I say death?”

     Andell couldn’t talk. His throat was blocked off, not by any supernatural act on Xanthis’ behalf, but by his heart. Had Xanthis known all this time that Andell had been hoodwinking him? Or was it a simple bluff?

     “The first sign came to me when the tracking device ploy failed miserably.” Xanthis looked down in thought. “And if I’m not mistaken, we’ve still not heard from that second signal again. And killing Uts, probably to cover up the fact that you’d been smuggling food to our prisoners. Yes, I knew about that as well. Oh, then there was the absolute ineptitude you displayed in taking so long to replace the ships you lost at Reuss.”

     Andell shrugged and managed to speak. “I made a few inquiries.”

     “Of course,” Xanthis said, rising from his chair. “But this was all suspicion. Aside from the food delivery—which was nothing more than basic human compassion, I’m sure—I had nothing solid. Until you sent that Jeevers fellow to Celanon. Why would you need to do that when the team already there was sent to take care of the potential threat? So Skate’s return was your final test. You did indeed give her an injection, but of what, who’s to know?”

     Andell knew he was already dead, so be became bold. “Don’t toy with me, Xanthis. You’re no detective. If you’d even suspected anything of me, I’d have been dead long ago. You’re doing all of this to make yourself appear witty and smart. You learned of my treachery from the comm controller and then put all the pieces together. Hindsight is twenty twenty. That is, when you have eyes.”

     Xanthis began circling Andell, his face contorted in anger. Andell felt a sharp jab in his right temple, followed by one in his left knee, but he didn’t show any sign that he had.

     “Despite your best efforts,” Xanthis said, his voice still calm despite the expression on his face, “you’ve failed. I’ve got Skate back in my possession, I’ve found that my general is a traitor and I’ve got Sith Squadron walking into a trap.”

     Andell winced, not at the increasing pain Xanthis was causing him, but at that last comment. Even if it were true, if Xanthis had somehow hatched a plan to take out his greatest enemy, there still was hope. Skate could escape with the Lorells, making it worth everything Andell had risked. If TOS and Sith Squadron annihilated each other—the irresistible force meeting the immovable object—Andell could care less, as long as his final act in life was completed.

     “I want to thank you, General.” Xanthis stopped in front of Andell, raised his right arm, pointed, and an invisible fist slugged him in the stomach. Xanthis angled his wrist in different directions, delivering the blows without impunity. “Not a bad day’s work.”

     “And it’s not over yet,” Andell said, unable to hide his pain any longer.

     He doubled over from the assault, which abruptly stopped. He looked up to find Xanthis holding both arms out, regarding him.

     “You know the punishment for treachery,” Xanthis said.

     Andell jumped to his feet. “You once told me that things done in light become that much greater when they are done in darkness. Why don’t you display that greatness and kill me without the aid of the Force? Won’t it make you greater?”

     “This is an execution, not a fair fight,” Xanthis said.

     “But I’d like the chance the kill you,” Andell said. “And your Force does make it a bit unfair.”

     “As is the intention,” Xanthis said.

     With that, blue lightning struck from his fingertips, hitting Andell and knocking him to the floor. He saw it as a punishment not from Xanthis, but from the souls of those whose deaths he was responsible for, suffering overdue for sins he’d committed in weakness of heart. He writhed in pain until the electricity stopped.

     “Lightning from the storm cloud of cowardice that is Xanthis,” Andell said, his voice choppy. It wasn’t a great metaphor, but he wasn’t going for eloquence. He just wanted to make Xanthis angrier, to buy more time.

     As the next wave of lightning hit him, sending him into convulsions, only one thought made suffering that pain feel worthwhile.

     Uts wasn’t dead.

     Skate rounded a corner in the dungeon’s tunnel, her lightblade raised and ready, but unignited. An old man had come and opened the cells, releasing her and the others. When Skate had thanked him, the old man had simply stared at her. Apparently, he was either a mute or insane from working in such a setting.

     Her first priority was to get the Lorells and Vanicus and Gimmer to safety, which in this case was the escape ship Kovares had promised. After that, she’d find a way to sabotage the base’s defenses. Two spindly battle droids turned when they rounded another bend in the dank passageway. Skate activated her blade and raised a hand. The way the duo was standing had one’s drawn blaster pointed at the other’s chest. She used telekinesis to pull the trigger and the galaxy was one less droid. She kept a grip on the blaster, not allowing the droid to bring it around, and charged him. A quick decapitation put the brief altercation at an end.

     They wound through the dungeon’s tunnels until they reached the wide chamber at the entrance. Two large super battle droids guarded the door. Upon seeing the group, they began firing, one at Skate and the other…at his counterpart. Skate blocked the few shots the now smoking droid had fired. The remaining one turned, extended climbing spikes from its feet, and exited the dungeon. Skate signaled for the other escapees to follow.

     When they reached the door, she turned and, as expected, found Vanicus and Gimmer with blasters procured from the two droids she’d dispatched earlier. What wasn’t expected was the way they looked, especially Vanicus. His normal impeccability with neat uniform, shaved face and combed hair was nowhere in evidence. His clothes were torn and covered in dirt. He was in a bad need of a shave and haircut—at least by his martial standards. Ryvo’s parents were in just as bad shape, Karisa appearing to be in similar shape on the inside, too. She looked catatonic.

     “Follow that droid,” Skate said. “It’ll take you to a ship and you can get out of here.”

     “What about you?” Vanicus asked.

     “I’ve got something to take care of,” she said. “Now go.”

     Vanicus waved his arm to the others to follow, and took off, climbing carefully up the slimy stairs. Garien and Karisa went after him. The former turned and backpedaled for a moment.

     “Hey, thanks,” he said.

     “You’re welcome,” was all Skate could say.

     With a final nod, he turned and helped his wife up the stairwell.

     She watched the group go after the droid until the stairs wound out of sight, then moved off in the opposite direction. Her objective was to take out the base’s defenses, but not only was that a tall order; it was a vague one. She could find the shield generator and put it out of commission, and that would surely aid an assault made on the base, but shields could be weakened by laser hits. And if the SSD was lacking in anything, it surely was not laser cannon. What would really help would be to take out the base’s guns. It would allow drop ships to land much more easily and ground forces to advance quickly. The data Jeevers had provided showed that the base boasted not only three heavy turbolaser batteries, but also anti-starfighter emplacements and a surface-to-orbit ion cannon. The turbolasers would all run off a dedicated generator. Finding it would be fairly easy. But taking out the anti-starfighter guns would be difficult in that each and every one would have to be destroyed individually, as they probably had their own power sources. And as for the ion cannon, well, she’d just have to leave that for later, if there was anything she could do at all. Deal with the possible first, then move on to the impossible, that way you know you’ve at least accomplished something. Those were words to live by.

     Skate just hoped they weren’t words to die by.

     Jace stood on the bridge of the SSD, the mottled tunnel of hyperspace filling the viewport. He imagined the galaxy as a giant brain, the circuits of hyperspace its synapses, the SSD the neuron carrying the information that TOS was dead.

     “Dropping out of hyperspace in five, four, three, two, one,” the navigator said, and the mottled features turned to starlines, and those to single points of light. Slightly off to port a brown-white world hung in space, its blue primary beyond it.

     “Launch fighters,” Jace ordered.

     “Aye, sir,” the starfighter control tech affirmed. “Launch initiation confirmed.”

     “Sensors.”

     “No sign of—wait, coming around the planet’s orbit.”

     Jace looked at the enhanced image on the command walkway console’s video display screen. The Terror of Space came into full view from behind the planet. The ship was huge, but lacked the streamlined grace of the SSD. Or any grace at all. Upon visual inspection, one could easily conclude that it fit no known configuration, modified or not. Only after study of the few sensor readouts they’d taken of the Terror of Space was it determined what the ship was made out of. It began with an Imperial torpedo sphere—the name just a flashy moniker, as it technically wasn’t a sphere, but rather an elliptical shape—at its center, with two roughly cylinder-shaped attachments, extending from front and back, as if the sphere had been impaled. These spiky cylinders, bristling with laser cannon, were found to be ancient Invincible-class heavy cruisers. Given that these vessels were still used in an operational capacity in places such as the Corporate Sector, they certainly lived up to their name. Branching off either side of the sphere were wing-like projections ending in four engine sections taken from Nebulon B escort frigates. The torpedo sphere, essentially a miniature Death Star in form if not function, boasted a power core that could more than adequately power the gun emplacements improvised into its hull, not to mention the innumerable guns on the mothballed Invincibles. It also provided an ideal frame for the droid control computer that directed the fighters and battle droids in the area. The Terror of Space was not quite as great in length as the SSD, but it matched it in firepower, possibly even surpassed it.

     “Set a course for that ship,” Jace ordered.

     “Orders?” the weapons coordinator asked.

     “Destroy it,” Jace said coolly.

     Jace watched as the TOS oriented its own course towards the SSD. They weren’t cutting and running this time. Only one ship would emerge victorious, intact. Just like the two vessels’ organizations. Just like him and Zarin and Xanthis, whenever it was that Jace would come upon them.

     “Nearing firing range,” the weapons coordinator said.

     Jace nodded.

     “We have two contacts!” the sensor officer blurted out.

     “Where?” Jace asked, scanning space outside the viewport.

     “One to port, one to starboard! Feeding you data now!”

     Jace took a look at the screen. Flat, triangular ships with a superstructure protruding from the stern, not unlike Imperial Star Destroyers.

     “Interdictors!” someone yelled out. “A trap!”

     But Jace knew that exclamation was premature. These ships indeed were the same basic hull design as the Interdictor-class cruiser, but lacking in the four rounded bulges that were the gravity well projectors. The SSD’s computer found a match and displayed the specs. They were Enforcer-class picket cruisers, made in a joint venture by Kuat Drive Yards and Seinar Fleet Systems. Using the shells of the Interdictor, these ships were configured for ship-to-ship combat and anti-starfighter duty. On any other day, they’d be nothing more than flies—albeit big flies—to the SSD, but when it had the TOS to deal with, these new additions to the battle became more of a threat.

     “Maintain course,” Jace ordered. “Tell fighters to do the same.”

     “Sir,” the starfighter control tech began, “Sith Two says—“

     “—he’s full of shit!”

     “I’m sure he has his reasons,” Star said in a calming tone.

     “Well, they better be good ones,” Thunder said. She flipped a few switches on her board. “They’ve still not launched fighters.”

     “Knock on wood,” Seven said.

     “Sorry, my hand can’t reach through vacuum to your head,” Thunder replied. “Wait…I’ve got crabs!”

     “Too much info, Two,” Jen said.

     “Droid fighters?” Thunder clarified. “Break into flights for a head on pass. Five and Six, join Two Flight. Three, you’re on me.”

     “Copy that,” acknowledged Rick, who with Narska had joined up with the squadron after ditching Drolen Antig’s ship in their snubs.

     Thunder pulled her flight stick down and to the left, then moved the stick up slowly, putting her above the oncoming droids fighters’ original plane, but giving them time to adjust their course to hers. At least two-dozen took the bait.

     “Three Flight! Now!”

     The three X-wings and a single Preybird pulled up, launching everything they had at the exposed droid fighters’ bellies. Two Flight continued on towards the swarm of enemies, but Seven angled his A-wing’s laser cannon at an almost right angle and blasted away along with Three Flight. But the advantage didn’t last long. The droid fighters that survived the ploy dove down and away from the bait towards the attacking Three Flight, letting loose with their own laser cannons. In doing so, however, they sealed their own fate as the prey turned into hunter when Thunder and Rick tucked in behind them. Sandwiched between them and Three Flight, they had no chance. Of the twenty-four fighters in that group, only three made it away to relative safety. Damn, these droids were stupid.

     Two Flight had reached the rest of the enemy fighters by then, and were brawling it out in an intense dogfight. Thunder signaled for Rick and Three Flight to follow her, and they joined the fracas. She wove her Blade through the jumble of snubs like a fly navigating through others of its kind over the carcass of a dead animal.

     Over the comm, she heard orders being shouted, astromechs screeching, Meltdown demanding Fox’s location, who was apparently lost in the crowd far from his wingman. It was understandable in a dogfight. But then again, Meltdown was flying Thunder’s X-wing—Sith Squadron needing every able hand at a flight stick that was available—and it would be best if Fox was covering its six.

     In the end, machine brains were no match for sentient organic brains. Sith brains. The results were elementary. What droid fighters remained returned to their home, evidently to regroup. Damage to the Siths was negligible; Palin’s B-wing’s gyroscopic stabilizer had been hit, taking away the fighter’s ability to rotate, as a result decreasing its already weak maneuverability. Thunder sent her back to the SSD to get another fighter. Palin wasn’t happy about it, but neither was Thunder, as the B-wing’s arsenal was needed if they were to go up against the capital ships. The rest of the squadron suffered only minor shield and hull damage. But that looked to be only temporary.

     “Enforcers are coming into position!” Fox exclaimed in his gruff yet youthful voice.

     “No shit, Olie,” Thunder said. “Seven, stick with Five and Six, and follow me. Three Flight, you head for the Enforcer to starboard. I have a feeling they special-ordered these ships just for us, so we can’t disappoint them by tucking tail. Let’s give them what they want…up close and personal.”

     Everyone rogered her command and she angled off to port to meet the arrowhead-shaped vessel.

     Then Jace’s came voice came over her speakers.

     “What are you doing, Two?” Jace asked in an admonishing tone, like that of a parent catching a child with her hand in the cookie jar.

     “Going after these Enforcers,” Thunder said in an adversarial tone that suggested the answer was obvious.

     “You’re orders were to maintain course towards the Terror of Space,” Jace said. “Our guns will be more than capable of any threat those Enforcers present.”

     “And if they get to us before you get to them?” Thunder asked, still on a heading for one of the Enforcers. “You saw the armament on those things. They can pick us off like hicks shooting cans off a fence.”

     Jace shook his head. Here came the internal strife that he had been contemplating only hours before. Now wasn’t the time or the place for this banthashit, and she knew it as well as he did. Perhaps it wasn’t a power struggle as much as it was Thunder’s bullheadedness; maybe she sincerely thought that this was the way to take it to the enemy. And maybe she was right. Still, no matter the means, the end result was the same. She would look brash for disobeying orders and better than him if her disobedience ended up paying off, and perhaps even if it didn’t. But something dawned on Jace…he didn’t want power. He only wanted one thing in life, and he would use whatever means were necessary to achieve it. If that meant holding the reins of power, then it did. If it meant acceding to Thunder, then it did. Besides, Reno was within their grasp, so power wasn’t something that Jace needed any longer. He had been successful in leading them to Reno, and that was all that mattered. Anything more, anything to sate his ego was an indulgence and must be forgotten.

     “Go ahead,” Jace said, as if his approval was desperately sought by Thunder. Fat chance. “Weapons, status?”

     “The TOS slowed after launching fighters,” the weapons tech reported. “But we’ll come into weapons range in less than a minute.”

     “Less than a minute until that ship gets the pounding of its life,” Jace mused.

     “I love it when you talk dirty,” Jen said.

     Jace hated when he forgot his mic was on.

     “Lord Xanthis,” a voice came from the hidden speakers, “I apologize for this interruption but I have urgent news. Drolen Antig’s ship entered the system and was given clearance to approach. B-but once the ship got as far as orbit, it released a series of probes of some sort. It is now leaving orbit.”

     Andell, still in pain during the pause Xanthis took to listen to the message, barely heard the words the voice spoke, much less registered their meaning. What in the hell was Sith Squadron up to?

     “Shoot it down!”

     “Yes, my Lord.” For a moment the tech said nothing. “My Lord, sensors are picking up two starfighters leaving the ship’s cargo bay. They’re heading for—my Lord! Something big just dropped out of hyperspace in grid fifty-one! Super Star Destroyer!”

     The tech sounded surprised, less in the sense that the SSD’s sudden appearance was truly a surprise than it was fulfillment of a prophecy.

     “Have the Bat Out of Hell and Peddler of Death move in,” Xanthis said slowly. “I am on my way.”

     Andell heard Xanthis walking away. The footsteps abruptly stopped. At first he thought Xanthis was gone, but an instant later the Sith lord spoke, crushing that thought.

     “I will, of course, finish with you later,” Xanthis said. “Please, do stay here. I’d hate for you to miss out on the once in a lifetime experience.”

     With that, Xanthis sent one final burst of blue lightning towards Andell. He had crawled up onto all fours, but was now again face down, writhing in pain. But through that intense pain, he concentrated. What were the Bat Out of Hell and the Peddler of Death? Had they been talking about a Super Star Destroyer? His agony-racked brain tried to make sense of it all. Bat Out of Hell and Peddler of Death could only be names for TOS ships. But none with those names existed…unless Xanthis had acquired them on his own, knowing of Andell’s betrayal. And an SSD could mean only one thing…Sith Squadron was here. That brought something else to the surface of his thoughts. How was Skate doing in escaping with his—Ryvo Lorell’s, he reminded himself—parents?  Xanthis was in the command center. The distraction hadn’t lasted for long. Skate probably needed help, and Andell was the only one who could provide that help.

     All he needed to do was get on his feet.

     Jace ordered the SSD’s helmsman to alter their course to pass under the TOS’s belly. From there, they’d have the best shots available at the enemy ship’s weaknesses. As they neared each other, both ships opened up with forward weapons. The SSD’s powerful shields easily shook off the shots from the disparate cannons that TOS has managed to assemble and install on their flagship.

     The SSD’s pointed bow dipped under the front of the TOS’s own bow, all weapons with an open vector firing at will. But the TOS’s shields held just as well under the assault. As the SSD’s stern neared the TOS, Jace ordered extra power to the superstructure shielding. By then, the forward batteries were concentrating their fire on the points where the sphere was joined with the Invincibles and the engine “wings.” When the SSD’s superstructure was almost to the sphere, the shield tech reported that the upper starboard shield was failing. Jace ordered reserve power be transferred. They could not pull away. It was a battle of brawn and Jace knew that any second one of the TOS’s weak spots could give way.

     Automatic polarization had triggered in the bridge viewports from the brightness of the multitude of laser blasts and explosions of concussion missiles impacting the shields of both big ships. But when one of those explosive vibrations changed in tone, Jace knew that the shields had been penetrated. It took one glance at his sensor readout to confirm which ship’s. He gave the order for all guns with an open shot to fire at that exposed point. The results were devastating. The fore Invincible was broken from the sphere, like a limb severed from a crustacean. With the TOS’ shields down, turbolasers from the SSD shredded the mass of antennae that transmitted the control signals to the droid fighters.

     Jace ordered for the SSD to pull away be brought on a perpendicular approach to the starboard side of the damaged TOS. This gave the TOS the advantage in more guns being brought to bear, but it also made the SSD a narrow profile to aim at. Forward batteries on the SSD sent a steady stream of green energy into the TOS’s starboard engine cluster. The weakened shields eventually gave way, and the engines, rained upon with laserfire, exploded.

     The comm officer notified Jace that the Terror of Space’s commander was signaling surrender. Apparently his salary didn’t include fighting to the death. Jace only shook his head. The orders he’d given the weapons coordinator had been to destroy the TOS. His refusal of the TOS surrender had been a reaffirmation of that order.

     By the time the SSD passed over the TOS, there was a hole punched in the top of the sphere, the fusion reactor hit. Jace ordered top speed away from the terminally damaged ship. It exploded, sending fire and debris in all directions.

     Even as Jace sprinted to the turbolift, he thought of the Terror of Space as Xanthis’ heart, Zarin’s heart…the heart of whoever stood in his way.

     Skate bended a corner and brought her lightblade up as she caught a faint flicker from her danger sense. When she saw nobody was in the adjoining hallway, she deactivated her blade and crept forward. From a door alcove a few meters away, General Kovares stepped out in front of her.

     She regarded him, and saw that he was hurt.

     “Are…they…safe?” Kovares managed, his voice shaky.

     Skate looked back the way she’d come in slight confusion. “Yes. Thanks.”

     “You…must…come with me,” he said.

     “Why?” she asked apprehensively. If he intended to take her back to her cell, then he was on something.

     “The…SSD is here.” He moved along the wall, using it as support. “I can…help you.”

     “Okay,” Skate said observantly. “How?”

     “The…anti-starfighter…batteries run off…”

     Kovares broke off and began shaking. Skate took him by the arms and sent some Force energy to him. She wasn’t trained much in healing, but Star did try to teach all of the Siths the nuts and bolts of it.

     Kovares looked up at her, and his head seemed to clear.

     “The anti-starfighter batteries?” Skate prompted.

     Kovares nodded. “They run…off of a power source…deep in the base. There isn’t a…main conduit. Each are fed…individually, but…I know where the…conduits branch off from the generator.”

     Skate, still holding onto him, shook her head. “Why are you telling me about the anti-starfighter guns? What about the turbolasers?”

     “No,” Kovares shook his head. “Those are too…slow to track…anything faster than a space slug.”

     “Are ground assault vehicles that slow?” Skate asked.

     Kovares shook his head. “The turbolasers…are no good for use…on ground targets. Not configured…to aim that low.”

     “Okay…off to this branch off point it is, then,” Skate said. “Where?”

     “Back the way you came,” Kovares managed to say in one breath.

     Skate slung one of his arms over her shoulders. “On the way there you can tell me what happened to you. But chances are we’ll make it there before you finish the first sentence.”

     This made Kovares smile, but only briefly, as he winced in pain when they started down the hall.

     Thunder shot in towards the second Enforcer-class heavy cruiser, as the first had been put out of commission, in a figurative and most likely literal sense. The one she approached now, that Three Flight was already exchanging fire with, had the words “Bat Out of Hell” scrawled across the upper hull plates on both sides.

     “Let’s send this son of a bitch back to hell,” Thunder said as One and Two Flights followed her in.”

     “Two, Lead.”

     Thunder rolled her eyes. “Yes?”

     “Stage Two is about to begin,” Jace said. “The droid fighters have been disabled, but we have to conclude they have another control computer on the planet. Bring the rest of the squadron back to escort the drop ships. The SSD can finish off that last Enforcer.”

     More out of a desire to move on with the battle than obey Jace, Thunder complied. Halfway back to the SSD, her sensors showed a new threat that the last Enforcer presented.

     “Bats!” Thunder called out.

     “First crabs, now—“

     “Siths, you’re on me!”

     “Bats” was a nickname for B/AT’s, a relatively new form of ugly that consisted of an AT-AT head coupled with two B-wings sans the pilot module. The wings were attached to the head at an angle, giving the impression of a winged rodent. They were sluggish, had almost no maneuverability to speak of, but were armed to the teeth. The combined weapons of the AT-AT and B-wing made an impressive armament that could pulverize an undefended freighter in just a few shots. They could not be allowed to get near the drop ships. Her sensors showed twenty of the uglies, which was about what the Enforcer’s hangar could hold.

     She went in, lasers blazing, weaving through the bats’ return fire. She let a torpedo loose just as she passed over one of them, checking her rear visual scanners to confirm its destruction.

     “Fox is EV!” Ryvo yelled over the comm.

     As she came around and was hit by laserfire, Thunder thought she heard someone say “Who’s Fox?”

     “Two, we need you,” Jace said. “The Twist of Fate is jumping in to deal with those bats.”

     Thunder had almost forgotten they were keeping the Twist of Fate in reserve. “Now you tell me. Our attack on them was totally pointless.”

     “Not totally pointless,” Jace countered. “Fox went EV. We’re heading for the planet. Hurry up.”

     Fradand Surowil hated his job. He had been hired by some temporary service months ago to perform service on power converters. Upon arriving at the first job, he’d been assaulted and kidnapped. He’d awakened hours later in a medical facility and a man named Kovares had told him that he’d been rescued from some common criminals. Kovares said he was a bigwig in a major company and was partying one night when he saw the kidnappers carrying away an unconscious Fradand and had intervened. After making short work of Fradand’s captors, he’d taken him to the private medical facility. After his wounds had been healed, Kovares offered him a job he couldn’t refuse. Fradand only wished he had known at the time that had been literal.

     He was sent off to this far-flung planet in the freezing polar cap and had worked on setting up several power generators and other “odd jobs.” Then, a blaster rifle had been shoved into his hands and he was forced to perform sentry duty. Damn temp agencies.

     As he walked along the balcony around the base of an ion cannon emplacement, wrapped up in winter clothes, he suddenly became uncomfortable. Perhaps he had wrapped up too good that morning, for he was breaking out in a cold sweat. At first he thought it was just a bout of some kind, but then it intensified.

     He looked over at the turbolaser platform off to the left and saw that the sentry there was looking up into the sky. Fradand looked up into the crystal clear blue sky, so blue that the distant blue primary looked like a slightly discolored stain on the view.

     There was no mistaking it now…it was getting hotter.

     A loud sound like a thousand bones breaking echoed through the mountainside as a shelf of ice slid off the mountain. Her turned his head to watch it, and soiled himself as he saw that the ice was coming right for him. Damn temp agencies.

     “Transmitting course heading,” Jace said, hitting the proper switched on his comm board. He was in his interceptor, escorting drops ships to the planet. “Landing outside the shield zone. SSD, anything from the ground?”

     “No,” Palin said in a poutish tone. Jace had ordered to stay on board the big ship when she’d come in damaged. “Wait…one ship making orbit. Looks like a shuttle. They’re hailing us. It’s Captain Vanicus!”

     “Vanicus!” Jace opened his own channel to the shuttle. “Captain, is Baron Reno with you?”

     “No,” Vanicus said. “Only myself and Gimmer along with Garien and Karisa Lorell.”

     “Oh,” Jace said. “Well, proceed to the SSD. We can use you on the bridge.”

     Jace closed the channel without even thinking about whether Captain Vanicus was in the condition to go to the bridge.

     “Picking up turbolaser activity,” Palin reported from the SSD.

     “I see it,” Jace said. “They’re going after the VEMI’s.”

     The visual electromagnetic intensifiers were the specialized equipment Nuprin had pulled from deep storage. The SSD had been included with them, as at the time, they were experimental siege ordnance, assigned only to the biggest ships. The satellites were a combination of VEMI’s and orbital nightcloaks, with the ability to block sunlight or amplify many times over. In this case, Jace chose to use them in the latter manner. The space around the base would be a veritable lake.

     The turbolaser attacks posed a real problem, as none of the satellites could be allowed to be knocked out if the VEMI network were to continue operation. Luckily, more than half of the satellites were dummies, and there were several backup satellites to fill any gaps should any of the genuine ones get disabled.

     Aside from melting the area around the TOS base, the VEMI’s served another purpose. They would draw turbolaser fire away from the landing party. Thus far, they’d seen no anti-starfighter activity, so Jace was pretty sure that Skate had disabled the guns. He had her common sense to thank for that. But there was still the risk of starfighters coming from the base to attack them, as it was a given that TOS had another control computer, maybe two, which were sure to be concealed and protected like the one that had been on MH-JL.

     Jace dialed up the visuals from a probe droid they’d sent to the surface moments before launching the landing convoy. Before it had been destroyed by anti-infantry weapons, it had taken several shots of the base. One of those visuals had included that of a huge layer of ice sliding down from the mountain, crushing a turbolaser battery and coming to rest on the lip of a short, wide opening, bowing it in. If Jace remembered correctly, that aperture was the hangar door. No fighters would be coming up to meet them.

     As the surface raced up toward them, Jace saw the handiwork of the VEMI’s. The mountain was only visible as a pointed rock, the base embedded in one side. Surrounding it was a pool of water, bordered in the far distance by an edge of snow. He led the convoy in a course parallel to the ground, fifty meters above the surface.

     “They certainly chose the biggest mountain they could find to build the base on,” Thunder commented.

     “You don’t think they’re compensating for something do you?” Jen asked in a serious tone.

     Once they passed into the melted area, one of the drop ships slowed down and opened its doors, releasing Sith Squadron’s own version of battle droids: Imperial probe droids. The spider-like droids spread out and moved in on the base, but met no resistance on the ground, as the antiquated Trade Federation battle droids were shorter than the tide, and had no repulsorlift engines to float above the water. But anti-infantry batteries and heavy repeating blasters on the mountainside blew many of the probe droids to pieces. The droids weren’t without their own weaponry, however, and they fired back at the enemy with their blaster cannons and arms modified with other weapons such as grenade launchers. But didn’t stop to mingle as they continued towards the base. Once there, they swarmed it like insects on a dirt mound, blasting their way in through the doors.

     The rest of the drop ships stopped and hovered over the water as SSD troopers clad in aquatic stormtrooper gear disembarked, moved in on the base. General Tam Pax’s floating fortress and other attack vehicles mobilized, as well, preparing to take on the TOS armored assault tanks and STAPs that were sure to appear any time. That is, unless their exit from the base hadn’t been flooded with water.

     But Jace zipped right past them, and headed for the damaged hangar doors he’d seen earlier. “If someone with projectiles would be so kind as to join me?”

     Apparently there were too many kind torpedo-armed members of SS, as a multitude of them flew past him without warning, hitting the hangar. Jace didn’t even have to fire any of his own. When the smoke cleared, the hangar door and most of the surrounding area was twisted metal and craggy rock. He slowed his interceptor down as he neared the remains of the flight deck. Broken droid fighters lay in fragments all around. Jace had his straps and helmet off before his fighter settled over the deck on repulsorlifts. He cracked the hatch and hot air hit him like midday in Mos Eisley. The VEMI’s were doing their job too well.

     Jace checked his belt for his lightsaber and then leapt down to the ground. He gripped his blade and ran for the nearest door into the base, dodging small fires and debris, several of the Siths on his heels. The probe droids had made short work of the door he passed through, melting it into a shape that resembled some weird piece of abstract art. He saw blast points on the corridors walls, no doubt made by the probe droids, as well. About fifty meters down the corridor to the right, he saw prone battle droids, and decided that was the way to go. He passed the dead droids, noted they looked like toys that were victims of a sadistic child. When he rounded a corner, he saw three probe droids down, their domed heads ripped apart. Only one thing could cause that kind of laser damage…

     “Droidekas!” Jen or Thunder or someone yelled.

     Jace had his blade up and deflecting blaster bolts before the word was complete. All around him, bolts were batted away by him and the other Siths. The lasers were so numerous that he couldn’t see how many droidekas there were. There were two choices…stand or run. Neither seemed particularly appealing, so he came up with a third option.

     “Ryvo!”

     “Yeah?!”

     “You got any?”

     “I thought you’d never ask!”

     With that, three successive sounds of metal bouncing away joined the symphony of laserfire, but like most symphonies, this one ended with the bass drums. Three explosions rocked the corridor, sent debris towards the Siths. Jace distinctively held his arm up to cover his face, and without waiting for the smoke to clear, he rushed forward, found droideka parts strewn about. Jace led the Siths as they wound their way through the corridors until they came to a fork in the road.

     “Thunder, take Ryvo, Meltdown, Rick and Seven,” Jace said. “Star, Jen and Narska, you’re with me.”

     He rushed off to the right, hoping his way would be the way that led to Reno.

     Or Xanthis.

     Or Zarin.

     Or…all three.

     Skate dragged Kovares along the corridor, his left arm draped over her shoulders. Although the man was small, after carrying him along for hundreds of meters, it was catching up to her. She didn’t call upon the Force for assistance, as she needed to save that energy in case it was needed for any confrontations she might be faced with.

     For the last several minutes, the base had been rocking with explosions, and she noticed the temperature had risen what seemed like thirty degrees. She just hoped Kovares wasn’t delirious in his directions to a method of escape. Then she heard the familiar humming of a lightsaber…no, a few lightsabers. She laid Kovares on the ground and ignited her own lightblade, planted her feet in a combat position. Was it Xanthis and Zarin? But then she saw a silver shaft of light, followed by a green and then an orange one.

     “Glad you could join the party,” Skate said, shutting down her blade.

     “Skate, you’re okay,” Thunder said, smiling.

     Then Ryvo and Meltdown rounded the corner, hefting blaster rifles. Upon seeing her, Ryvo charged forward and spun her around in a hug.

     “My parents?” he asked.

     “They went with Captain Vanicus in the escape ship,” Skate said, then gestured at the prone Kovares. “The one he provided.”

     “Who is it?” Ryvo asked, squinting in the dim light at the figure.

     “A broken man,” Skate answered.

     “Kovares?” Ryvo asked disbelievingly.

     “He’s messed up in the head, keeps calling me Lena,” Skate said. “He was in bad condition when I first found him, but he’s getting worse by the minute, it seems.”

     “I can put him out of his misery,” Ryvo said, aiming his rifle.

     “He saved your parents,” Skate said, pushing the barrel down. “And me.”

     “Can he tell us where Reno is?” Thunder asked.

     “Reno isn’t here…” Skate said, confused.

     Thunder sighed. “Jace seems to think so. Seems to know so.”

     Skate knelt next to Kovares and put him into a sitting position. “Hey, where is Reno?”

     “Not…here,” Kovares answered, his hands shaking. “L-Lena…don’t leave me. Please.”

     “What’s wrong with him?” Rick asked.

     “He’s been hit by Force lightning,” Thunder said in a knowing tone. “Zarin and Xanthis must not be far away.”

     “Where are Zarin and Xanthis?” Skate asked. “Where could they be?”

     “No…Zarin…Xanthis…”

     “Eh, he’s useless,” Ryvo said. “Let’s go.”

     Thunder pulled out her comlink. “Jace, we found Skate. She has Kovares…but he’s in bad shape. Can you send Star this way? Jace? Jace?”

     Kovares wheezed and Skate laid his head down on her knees. “Lena…I need to know…do you…forgive me?”

     “Forgive you for what?” Skate said, looking to the others, shrugging.

     “For killing you…for killing everyone…I loved.”

     Skate frowned. “Uh…yes.”

     “I just wanted…you to know…that I am…dying with…my soul on good terms. And I’m…doing it for myself. Like you…told me to. I prevailed over… the evil in myself. The selfish cowardice.” Kovares wheezed again. “And I need…you to…forgive me… for not…being able…to bring…you back…to…life.”

     Everyone looked at each other in total confusion, and Kovares wheezed once more, and then stopped breathing, his body going limp. Skate gently laid his head on the ground. She slowly rose to her feet, and Ryvo put a hand on her shoulder, as if she’d just lost a loved one. Skate knew the sentiment was more than twinge of guilt from Ryvo. Just two minutes earlier, he’d been ready to leave Kovares for dead. But after those last remarks from Kovares, a realization had formed in her mind as well as Ryvo’s. This was a man who’d risked—lost—his life for the atonement of iniquities unmentionable. He said he’d done it for himself. Skate had risked her life on her mission to MH-JL to make amends for a perceived mistake, and she’d done it for herself, but not in the same manner Kovares had. Skate’s had been one of pure arrogance, to satisfy her own guilt, to ease her own pain, but had done so at the expense of others, unwittingly or not. His had been for the love of others. This time, going to this TOS base on Zhar Delba, she’d done it for the same reason Kovares had.

     “Now what?” Skate asked, breaking the awkward silence.

     “Now,” Thunder said, “we go find out why Jace isn’t responding to my calls.”

     “Maybe he’s dead,” Rick suggested.

     “Let’s go see if he vanished!” Ryvo said.

     “What about him?” Skate asked, pointing at Kovares’ body.

     Thunder looked down at the corpse. “He’s not going anywhere. Come on.”

     Ryvo ran down the corridor, his blaster rifle tight in his grip. Thunder, Skate, Rick, Seven and Meltdown, with their own weapons at the ready, ran with him, backtracking to the T-junction where they’d split with Jace’s group. With Thunder in the lead, they charged down the way Jace had gone. Fifty meters in, they began to here more mass laserfire; Jace had run into more droidekas. There was another characteristic boom and when they finally reached the other Siths a few seconds later, the screaming of blaster bolts had stopped.

     As the smoke began to clear, Narska became visible. The Bothan smiled. “That’s my job.”

     Ryvo ignored the comment, took a look around. Jen, Star and Jace were all still intact.

     “Looks like you ran into more trouble,” Thunder said to Jace.

     Jace, panting from the exertion of the skirmish, sent the Olie Amendment to Thunder with a mere look.

     “Your troubles are just beginning, I’m afraid,” came a voice from beyond the smoke.

     Ryvo squinted and got the visual confirmation he did not need, as the voice had been more than sufficient. A dark figure stood across the chamber from them, looking ominous in his stillness.

     “Xanthis,” Ryvo whispered, and could almost imagine phlegm exiting his mouth with the name.

     “Well, if it isn’t…Shit Squadron,” Xanthis said, standing with his feet planted, his arms crossed.

     “Hey, Xanshit!” Jen said, smiling and waving.

     “Anagrams!” Seven said excitedly. “Let me see if I can come up with one!”

     “Instead of rearranging my name, why don’t I rearrange the placement of your limbs?” Xanthis asked.

     “Oooh,” Thunder said, “tough talk there. But as you can see—pardon the expression—you are outnumbered seven lightsabers to one.”

     “Maybe so,” Xanthis admitted. “But it’s not the size, rather what do you do with it.”

     Jen waved a hand. “That’s just something small guys came up with.”

     Xanthis’ face twisted into a mask of anger. “Whatever the matter, I think the odds are about to change.”

     Behind them, Ryvo heard the sound of metal rolling against metal, and he turned, saw five more droidekas moving in to block passage through the corridor. Quickly he spun around, and as suspected, saw Xanthis making a run for it. Skate, being in the forefront of the group, was already rushing after him. The rest of them, distracted as Ryvo had been by the sound coming from behind, were taking defensive positions or still recovering from the diversion to notice what Xanthis was doing. A thick blast door running the length of the room’s center was rapidly closing, and Ryvo dove through it at the last second, nearly losing his left leg in the process. He rolled up onto one knee, aimed his blaster rifle and fired. His shot made good, burning a hole in the wall where the controls to Xanthis’ exit door had been, cutting off his escape.

     The black-clad Sith spun around and ignited his amethyst blade.

     “I’ll take him!” Ryvo barked and began firing rapid shots at Xanthis.

     Xanthis easily blocked the shots that would have mutilated a normal man. But Xanthis was not a normal man, and he made this fact evident by raising his hand. Ryvo slammed into the blast door with force, probably cracking a few ribs. The blaster rifle was then ripped from his hands, bisected in mid-air by Xanthis lightsaber. The Sith lord then began to make a crushing gesture with his hand, and Ryvo suddenly couldn’t breathe.

     Skate, instantly realizing what was happening, sprung into action. “Try that with me, bastard!”

     She leapt at him, igniting her lightblade in flight, and swung it down. Xanthis blocked it in a two-handed grip, releasing his telekinetic choke on Ryvo. Skate brought her blade down in a cut at Xanthis’ legs, which he hopped over to avoid, and made a thrust at her with his lightsaber. She sidestepped and batted his attack away, leaving her off balance. Xanthis spun around, sweeping her legs with his left boot, bringing Skate down to her back. In one motion, he brought his blade down for a slash that would have cut her in half had she not rolled out of the way.

     Knowing Skate was in trouble, Ryvo grabbed for his sidearm, holstered on his right hip. Raising, aiming the blaster as quickly as he could manage, he was disappointed when Xanthis spun around and gestured with his hand, pulling the blaster from Ryvo’s hand. It landed next to the Sith lord, where he passed his purple blade through it. But the disruption gave Skate the chance to get back on her feet.

     Ryvo then felt a warmth coming from his side, and thought for the briefest of moments that he was bleeding, until he look over and found the source. The blast door was orange, slowly turning red. The Siths were trying to cut their way through. The door was in the process of turning molten, and he was lying in front of it. With pain stabbing through his ribs like hot spikes, he rolled out of the way, making sure he wound up in a position to watch the duel.

     The tables had turned quickly in the seconds Ryvo had been distracted, as Skate was now advancing on Xanthis with the left/right slashes that Jen had used on her during their brief duel on the Poetry In Motion. On a left slash, their blades became locked up, and they pushed against each other in a test of strength. Xanthis was winning, pushing his blade closer and closer to Skate’s face, when she kicked his wrist away with her right leg, brought her blade down for a wild cut. Xanthis ducked under it, leaving them standing almost back-to-back. He spun to his right and swung his purple lightsaber in a backhanded slash aimed at Skate’s neck. But she brought her weapon back up over her head in a block, her blade held as if she were ready to bring it down to chop wood. Xanthis then kicked her in the spine, sending her to the ground, her lightblade skittering across the floor.

     “I’ve trifled with you long enough,” he said, taking meaningful steps toward her. He reached to his belt and pulled out another lightsaber, ignited it. The color was indigo. It was Skate’s blade that had been “surrendered” to Jeevers. Xanthis was going to kill Skate with her own lightsaber.

     “No!” Ryvo yelled, his voice still hoarse from the choke Xanthis had put on him. “Stay away from her!”    

     If Xanthis was weak of mind, then the Force somehow made him immune to Ryvo’s force command, as it didn’t work. But it did manage to distract him, and a distraction was all that was necessary. The molten metal from the blast door blew outward, some of the fragments landing on Xanthis’ robes, setting them on fire. He quickly threw the outer robe off—dropping Skate’s lightsaber in the process—and went for the small door he’d been trying to escape through before. A few quick cuts and a kick and he was through, just as Jace jumped in the room through the still smoldering hole in the blast door.

     Jace looked at him and Skate, both prone on the floor, then at the door on the other side of the room. He bolted for it, common sense obviously telling him in milliseconds what had happened.

     Skate recovered and pushed herself up to a sitting position, Star kneeling beside her as the other Siths entered the chamber. Knowing she was okay and the relief from it was the last thing Ryvo remembered before passing out from the pain.