StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Lando Calrissian had moved his business into the beta quadrant. He liked the beta quadrant, at least this far corner of it. It was quiet, far from the conflicts that plagued most of the Milky Way, whether it was Mystral raiders or Section 31 or crazed Hirogen or even the odd hologram, they stuck to the other areas of the galaxy. Out here you kept your head down; it made sure nobody would try to chop it off.

Lando wanted peace and quiet, which is exactly what he got. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that life was going to be trouble-free, it just meant that the problems would be limited to the humdrum of "can I meet my bills?" and "will the new improvement to the drive assembly affect the cost?" instead of "can I do without a proton missile launcher or will my factory be incinerated?" or "will I be murdered in my bed tonight as either a supporter of the Empire or a traitor to the Empire?" Being a businessman again had come naturally to Calrissian, who had been so many things in his life. He'd been a general and he'd been a crook, so it was the perfect balance; he led people in taking other people's money away. Unfortunately, sometimes other people conspired to take your money away. It was a matter of knowing when that was going to happen so you could prepare for it, but nothing had prepared Lando for the day the Empire came for their shipment and only dropped enough credits to cover half of it.

Of course, there's usually options to deal with a situation like that. Usually you hold the merchandise until the full payment is arranged, or you provide whatever the customer can afford to pay for at the moment. However, when faced with a few star destroyers and a complete absence of serious defenses, the options become reduced to "hand over the goods and hope we can sort it out later." Well, it was later, and the sorting out wasn't going very well.

"General," Lando said in the firm yet diplomatic voice he had to employ when dealing with difficult yet valued customers, "we really can't work like this. We need payment in full for our ships upon receipt, or I can't continue to provide them to you." "Can't" was always important to say. "Won't" says "we could but we're not going to." "Can't" says "I really want to, honestly, but my hands are tied." "Can't" says we're in this together and can work it out if we all act sensibly.

"You'll be paid in full, Calrissian," General Taar said, looking over reports during the meeting. "You just need to give us time."

"General, I understand the Empire is a bit distracted-"

"The Empire is fighting for its existence," Taar said sharply. "And for the continued existence of all its citizens, whom the Vong aren't going to treat nearly as fairly if they are allowed to win. But wars cost money, Calrissian."

"I'm aware of that," Lando said. "I have an itemized list sitting on my desk, in fact."

"Look, Calrissian, I sympathize, really, I do, but I cannot pay you credits I don't have."

"And we can't continue to provide ships without payment, general," Lando said flatly. "We're going to have to come to some kind of an arrangement."

"Listen, I have a war to run, not time to deal with every little problem in the universe. You have two choices: either you extend us some credit until we can resolve the Vong situation, or we can just forget the whole thing."

"Forget the whole thing?" Lando said with a disbelieving laugh. "General, we have a contract. The contract calls on you to make payments upon receipt, not to give you credit when there's money problems."

Taar tossed down the datapad. "I am trying to stop aggressive nihilists from taking over two galaxies here, Calrissian. Do I look like I give a damn about some contract? You should be happy that you're dealing with me instead of some of the other gents who have been in command, 'cause they would take your ships and expect a thank you for not vaporizing your corporate headquarters for the lip. You'll get paid when I have it, or we can just terminate the contract right now."

Lando fumed. "I know you're still paying Kuat Drives and the Borg in full."

"Kuat Drives stuck with us through the worst of it many times," Taar said, "and the Borg, bastards though they may be, are at least willing to fight for nothing to deal with raiders and pirates. You sit in your warm safe office and expect to get lead teat? No no no. Put your neck on the line, Calrissian, and maybe I'll change my mind, but for now you take what we offer or start your own shuttle service." The connection was abruptly terminated. Lando stared for a few seconds at the holoprojector, then slowly leaned forward and tapped the button that lowered it into his desk.


Cloud City... Lando would always remember the day the Executor appeared in the sky over Bespin and the Dark Lord of the Sith himself contacted him. They could take the entire colony with ease, shut it down for good, and there'd be no one to appeal to. The shadow that loomed over them had finally taken notice. But Lord Vader had offered a deal instead, a minor inconvenience by comparison. A few platoons of stormtroopers to help catch Han, Chewie, and some Rebel bigwig to lay a trap for someone else. They weren't even going to be killed, just held to lure this Skywalker kid in for Vader, and then the Empire would go on its way, leaving Han and his friends behind, and Calrissian would keep Cloud City.

Lando had believed it. He'd wanted to believe it so badly he would have greeted Han in the buff if Vader demanded it. All in all, it was a very reasonable offer.

And then things spiralled out of control. Vader didn't just take the trio captive, he tortured them, and then decided to give Fett Han. The Empire would make more and more demands until finally Lando saw through the reasonableness and recognized the deal was a sham. He was losing the city, all he'd done was help the Empire on his way down.

"Extend us some credit?" It sure sounds reasonable...
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Alema Rar had arrived a week ago, guided by the mind of the Oracle. She had no idea what to expect; she'd seen the previous encampment of the Sith during her time with the Jedi, and the evil was still tangible in the air. Her minds eye had cast up gastly images of forbidden rights being performed, of contacting black forces in the hopes of seizing even more power. The collection of pre-fabricated rooms seemed absolutely humdrum by comparison.

The Oracle had been waiting for her. There had been several others about, and even more that Alema could sense, but introductions seemed the last thing on the Oracle's mind. Instead she'd asked Alema a few questions. They were simple and direct. What did she want? What was she willing to do to get it? Was she willing to swear total allegience to her new master? Alema had expected this and given her answers; the Oracle seemed pleased, although in a distant way.

And after that had been nothing. The Oracle had ordered her to confine herself to an assigned room away from the others, to talk to no one. She was only to study the Sith texts the Oracle gave her, and to wait until the Oracle summoned her. Over a week passed, and patience was not easy, but Alema buried herself in study to keep from giving in to other temptations. She had a feeling the tests here would not be like the ones at the Jedi Academy, but would instead be practical application and likely lethal.

And then the door opened, and the Oracle waited. "Come," was all she said, and Alema quickly did so. The Oracle explained a little more about their relationship, master and apprentice. And that was how she introduced Alema to everyone, "My new apprentice." The faces were all familiar; she'd seen them when Ben had killed Jacen. None regarded her with anything friendlier than disinterest, and Ben himself was a boiling cauldron of contempt, who'd refused to even speak to her.

The tour ended at the entrance to one of the cells, which was opened to reveal Annika Hansen Skywalker, currently lounging on her cot. Master and apprentice entered the cell as Annika sat up. "This is Seven," the Oracle announced, gesturing dismissively towards her Borg captive. "A rather stubborn woman, but hopefully will learn the error of her ways." Annika responded with only a look of contempt.

"We've met," Alema said. The Jedi had worked with Annika more than once during some of Anakin Solo's assignments.

"No, we haven't," Annika said darkly. "I knew Alema Rar; I've no idea what this thing is."

Alema stared at the Borg, who unblinkingly met it. The Oracle said nothing, she just watched. So Alema acted, and Annika soon found herself choking from the invisible grip on her throat. "No," the Oracle said. "that will achieve nothing."

"Part of being a Sith is being respected for one's power," Alema said, remembering the books she'd been given.

"The dead offer no respect, and she's potentially useful to me." Alema released her, and Annika gasped for air. "Seven has learned to respect me over the course of her imprisonment, isn't that so?" Annika turned and spat in the Oracle's general direction. The Oracle shook her head as she approached her prisoner. "Although she still remains defiant at times. She has cowered before me on more than one occassion."

"Get out," Annika snapped. The Oracle raised her hands, causing Annika to flinch in anticipation. "Out!"

"You can sense her fear, can't you?" the Oracle asked. "Underneath it all she fears me and what I can do to her." Force lightning cracled around the Oracle's hand, causing Annika to jump. "But even these tools aren't always necessary."

"She's going to kill you, Alema," Annika said. "She's using the Vong to-"

"Yes, using the Vong," the Oracle said. "And then they will be tossed aside. I'll leave that to you if you like," she offered, then turned her attention back to Annika. "The mind is a wonderful thing," the Oracle cooed as she ran a hand over Annika's head before the woman could flinch away. "Someone gifted like our Borg friend can recall all the memories on command, but most of us aren't so fortunate. Still, they're all in there somewhere, collecting dust, waiting. Every secret thought and stolen kiss and small transgression is there. Someone skilled enough could no doubt learn our friend's every secret, although I doubt we'd every meet someone with that much power. But memory has different paths, common elements, if you're skilled enough to know the thread to pull."

"The ways to find their secrets?" Alema asked.

"Perhaps, if you were so inclined and willing to patiently sift through it all." The Oracle gave a dismissive wave. "But I prefer to work more directly." She reached out and Annika's limbs froze in the Oracle's mental grip. "As I said, everything that's ever happened is in there. Let's say I gathered up all the times when there was horrible pain, took the threads, and heaved-"

Annika screamed; it was high-pitched and pitiful. Burning, freezing, aching, and wrapped up in agony, she lacked even the strength to move. The memories were as clear and substantial as if the moment was now, but they overlapped one another in a mosaic of torment, that left her blubbering even after the Oracle released her.

"And that is but a small taste of what the Dark side can give you, my young apprentice," the Oracle said quietly.

While being admittedly impressed, Alema nevertheless questioned her new master. "What use would that be to me against the Vong? Their minds are untouched by the Force."

"It's to show, child, how the Force can be used beyond the limitations of Jedi trickery. A master of the Force is not just some super-warrior, they have access to power beyond anything you've dare dreamed. You've already sensed the power, but its raw and thus out of your control. I can help you tame it, and with it you will become so powerful you won't even need to activate your lightsaber to destroy Vong." She led the way out of the cell. "And I think we'll start with a little ability known as illusion..."
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At its best, a collection of Sith hold barely-restrained tolerance for each other. Each fellow Sith is, in the end, either a potential obstacle to personal advancement, or a threat. It was played out when Ben Skywalker tried and failed to kill the Oracle recently, and it preyed on the minds of his students. Molly was unlikely to kill him, although even she wasn't completely beyond such temptations, but she had far more to worry about from a student hoping for sudden advancement. The unspoken heirarchy put her between them and Ben, and if it weren't for years working for Section 31 she'd likely have been stabbed in the back long ago, Force powers or no.

Then Alema Rar had come. Fallen Jedi, and suddenly of such interest to the Oracle. She was the apprentice now. The term had always been used regarding Ben -once the nature of the Oracle had been revealed- to indicate that he was not the master in this relationship. With this new member it seemed to leave Ben without a defined position. He was instructor to the students, and ran the Oracle's errands, but he had no traditional Sith role. Where he and Alema fit in the heirarchy was now uncertain.

It should have been no surprise that it was J'Dan who made the move. The Klingons, for all their talk of honor, were always quick to strike against a foe when they were weakened, and with the uncertainty provided by Alema and the sound defeat by the Oracle in his failed assassination attempt, Ben looked vulnerable. And like a Sith, he didn't announce his intentions, but simply struck while Ben was discussing the training with Molly in one of the main rooms. If Ben were cut down by surprise, it would be his own fault; a Sith should know that he is always surrounded by enemies, even if they are simultaneously his friends.

However, Ben was not taken by surprise. He was surprised to be sure, that someone would dare to try to best him with their limited training. But he was always ready for a lightsaber between the shoulder blades, and caught the assassin's strike with a flurry of movement and crashing of blades. To his credit, J'Dan immediately kept up the attack, without a trace of fear that he'd bitten off more than he could hope to chew. For Ben's part, however, this was just the final indignity. A man who had risen so high, had attained so much, now fallen so low that the damn students thought they had a chance of outperforming him. Hate boiled in his blood always, but in recent days he had set it to an even higher simmer than normal, and he stalked around the place in mute frustration at his position.

The Klingon had no idea just how grave a mistake he'd made. Ben didn't want to just kill something, he wanted to pour all his rage upon it first, every single angst that riled him day and night. J'Dan was bigger and stronger, but each blow from Ben's blade seemed to knock him back further, as if the human was channeling the strength of a giant. The sound of each blow was like a sledgehammer on neutronium. Finally, Ben brought his blade around and slashed between the Klingon's third and fourth finger, shutting down his lightsaber as well as sending half of his hand and a sliver of arm spiraling off. J'Dan cried out in pain and anger, but didn't back down; there was still too much pride in there to do anything else.

In anyone else, Ben might have had a murderous rage, but that basically defined his ground state. Ben never had to get mad to kill anyway, it came as naturally as combing his hair. But in Ben was something well-beyond his normal bounds, and it had been waiting for a release for a long time. J'Dan had been unfortunate enough to volunteer. The Klingon stood there, sweating as Ben's anger burned, and burned, and burned...

His hair smoldered first, briefly, before J'Dan's entire body lit up with flame. Now he let out a cry, but Ben reached into the fire and grabbed the Klingon, holding him there even as his own arm burned. Several others, including Molly, watched on as the immolation continued, until J'Dan crumpled to his feet. Ben still gripped him, and stared with open malice at the now dead Sith. Several minutes passed and the flames began to die down, and Ben shoved the corpse aside. Black bits of burnt flesh like wasp paper fluttered at the movement, but Ben just stormed out of the room. The onlookers, however, got the unspoken message. Despite appearances, Ben was on top of his game, and was not someone to be kriffed with.

Ah, I missed this. Great work as usual Mr Sonnenburg. I especially liked the opening with Lando, and still showing Ben Skywalker regardless is not someone to be fucked with.

Poor Ben, so powerful yet so impotent. Very good chapter.

I tell ya Chuck, there is nothing better than comeing home to good fanfic such as this after a evening at work best charaterised as a bag'o'shite.
Good stuff, you have improved my temper enourmously.

Thanks Chuck. Good chapter, as always.

It was a scene that took place with greater frequency in recent weeks. A convoy was pulled from hyperspace into the waiting arms of raiders, but instead of the usual pirates and such, there were warships waiting for them. With the teeth pulled from the Empire's military presence, the independent powers now preyed on the under-defended ships that were still necessary to keep commerce flowing within the Empire's territory. It may seem unimportant, but commerce meant revenue, which meant tax money for the Imperial war machine. More and more were getting the same kind of messages from the Empire that Lando Calrissian had received, and provoking their subjects with even greater demands for funds while not protecting their interest was potentially leading to further revolts against their government. This was all well and good, but the Malon, who had sent three cruisers to deal with this convoy, also never turned down a chance for a handful of credits. Hurting the Empire was just a bonus.

Unfortunately for them, they'd garnered some attention. As the cruisers swooped in with tractor beams at the ready, two Borg tactical cubes arrived. One would be enough. The Malon turned to fight for all the good it would do; thanks to their own interdictor torpedo, they were now stuck here with the Borg. Their ships had been outfitted with heavier weaponry, but even when these managed to penetrate the Borg adaptive shielding, they did little more than scratch their armored hulls.

Three blue spheres were launched from one cube, splashing across the shields of a Malon cruiser. Alas, that was the point; the shields flickered upon impact. It was very, very brief, perhaps a few dozen miliseconds, but the shields were open nonetheless, and with centuries of finely-honed transporter experience, it was more than enough.

In the engineering section of the cruiser panic quickly spread as a horde of Borg drones appeared. Security forces were already standing by for engagement, but the drones ignored them, and the Malon quickly found their attention elsewhere. Two snaps rang out before anyone could react, and suddenly the security head's... head... rolled past. The Malon opened fire, but the figure was too quick, literally bouncing off a wall as he evaded their blast and dove, two deadly blades of pure energy spinning beside him. He weaved around them, casually slashing through as he passed and forcing the Malon to withdraw. He drew to a quick stop to catch a Malon's shot. It was a continuous fire weapon, a phaser or disruptor. Weapons like that could have advantages against a Jedi, or severe disadvantages. The continuous beam bounced off the lightsaber and was angled back, slicing down three additional Malon security guards before hitting the one holding the weapon himself. That had cleared engineering for the moment, but there was no time to celebrate. He gestured at the three doors, which each closed in turn. Finally, the situation fully dealt with, Sebastian shut down the lightsaber. "Status?" he asked.

"Ninety-two percent," the Borg Queen informed him. A few seconds later the ship lurched and the lights dimmed; emergency lights cut on under back-up power, not enough for much else. Gravity, minimal life support, transmission reception (not even enough to answer), and the doors. "Reactor is off line," she said. "We are the Borg-"

The Malon on the bridge listened as their guts tightened. "-your vessel will be assimilated," the chorus announced. "If you do not evacuate you will be punished." That was more than enough for them. It wasn't that the Malon crew were cowards, but they didn't care to throw their lives away, or hand them over to the Borg. The escape pods were quickly filled and ejected.

The other cube had been engaging the remaining two cruisers. One had been subjected to some of the Borg's heavier weapons; it was only useful for materials now. The other, however, seemed to be powering down as well. Sebastian nodded as he examined it on his datapad; no real damage, it looked like the destroyer droid squad coupled with the drones worked quite well. That was good; he didn't care for these jobs much, despite their necessity. Since the Borg had to stop assimilating personnel, electronic records were now the primary source of their information, and too often ships would lose some data during the course of the battle. The new Borg tactic of disabling the ship without damaging it had provided a wealth of information on anti-Imperial activities, not to mention some useful details to be integrated in Borg construction efforts. But that led to the second advantage of taking the ship intact; it meant you had an intact ship. The Borg were still salvaging damaged and empty cubes from before their re-birth, so they had no need for them, but there were plenty who paid handsomely for a fully-functioning warship. Naturally, the Borg only sold to Imperial allies to avoid provoking the Empire. Taar may have adopted a grudging tolerance for the Collective, but it wouldn't take much for him to declare it open season on any cybernetic organism.

The drones nearby had plugged into the main computer; there were no doubt high-level encryption patterns to protect the Malon's secrets, but they had no hope against the sheer number of minds devoted to breaking them. It took seconds before data flowed into the hive mind. "Interesting," the Queen said to Sebastian. "It seems this Malon ship had a brief encounter with the bio-vessels."

"What?" Sebastian said, visibly shocked at the news. The Borg had been searching for the bio-vessels that had attacked the Imperial fleet for some time, and hadn't found a trace of them. Any clue could be of help in finding this enemy and figuring out whether it was the Vong or someone else. "How much information do you have?"

"Enough," the Borg Queen said succinctly. Sebastian knew what that meant. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and the implant deep inside his brain switched on.

It always hit him like a blow to the solar plexus. To think he used to feel this way all the time! After a timeless period had passed his connection was cut and he was left gasping, but the new knowledge was fresh in his head: all the sensor recordings, all the flight details, all the little things that could prove the vital element in finally finding this mysterious force. "Any theories on where these bio-vessels may have gone?" he asked the Borg Queeen.

"We have a few possible projections," the Borg Queen said. "You wish to take the tactical cube?"

"Yes, I'd like to look into this personally," Sebastian said. "This could be what my father was alluding to when he spoke of the greater threat to us. If so, I've got to figure out just what it is."

"Agreed," the Borg Queen said, although Sebastian knew she placed little stock in his views of the Force. Whatever these bio-vessels were, they presented a possible threat and possible new information for the Borg, which made them doubly of interest to the Collective. They may be a business rather than a military force in the galaxy, but that didn't change their fervent drive towards knowing and understanding everything, of achieving total perfection. "Engagement at this time, however, would be unwise," she added.

"One thing at a time," Sebastian said. "Let's find them first, then decide if we're going to fight or not."

"That is a dangerous strategy."

Sebastian shrugged. "What can I say, I like to adapt." And with that he de-materialized off the Malon cruiser and disappeared into hyperspace on the tactical cube.
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Annika Hansen Skywalker lay on her bunk, the lights dimmed to allow her the chance for some sleep. At the end of the day.... that was the expression, wasn't it? At the end of the day, often followed by an unpleasant truth. After all, that's what this time brought you, in the quiet and the dark, with absolutely nothing but the voices of your own mind. And often there was one voice, the unpleasant one. Not the conscience, no, though it knew about guilt. It knew about a lot of emotions, and used them with the fine skill of a master golfer selecting between a seven and eight iron. It was the voice of truth, with all the attractiveness of an open cadaver. At the end of the day, it spoke, and it was a voice not easily silenced.

It's message for Annika was simple: you're dead. You will never leave this place alive, and all your actions here are in vain. Maybe you made a difference with the Borg, but that's all over now.

It was at that moment that the Oracle entered Annika's cell, and the grim truth and fresh pain flipped a few switches in the woman's mind, and she leapt at her former captain. It wasn't calculated and lacked all of the normally subtle and crafty tactics Annika employed; it was brute force anger taking out its frustrations on the face of its tormentor.

She never landed a blow. Instead she was bodily picked up and tossed into the wall, not hard enough to break anything, but just hard enough to make a point. The Oracle's face showed no sign of response to any of this, as if she was too distracted to bother herself with a raging ex-Borg besides a subconscious reaction, like the brushing away of a fly. "It's good to see you're in touch with your emotions," the Oracle offered. Annika growled at her in response. "They can make you so strong when you let them." Annika rolled over and looked at the wall rather than at the thing Janeway had become. "I think you're starting to wake up to that. Pain, you see, is very good at getting one to admit the power of the Dark side. It worked for Ben, for Molly, even for Alema."

"I'm not interested in the Dark side," Annika said coldly.

"Then why did you attack me?" the Oracle asked. "Why did you lash out?"

"Because killing you would be a step closer to my freedom," Annika said, turning back.

"Analytical," the Oracle said. "You'd always turn to that as a crutch, but there was no reason in your actions, only passion, hate." She stepped closer and her voice seemed more soothing. "You've been conditioned to resist those feelings. I assure you, they give you strength, and with strength comes the ability to impose your vision on reality. For you, it was to live in a galaxy without me. For me, I saw a galaxy without an Empire looming over it."

"An Empire founded by Sith," Annika said. "Yet you join with them against the Jedi. That never made any sense, captain."

"The Jedi are weak, Seven, you should know that by now. You've seen first-hand Luke's limitations." The Oracle smiled a little at Annika's murderous expression. "You see? So easily it comes, doesn't it? Anger? Hatred? The Jedi suppress this like the Vulcans, but its emotion that fuels the power of the Force."

"And if it were not for that, then there would be no Empire," Annika said. "Don't you see that?"

"What I see," the Oracle said, "is a means towards an end, nothing more. Besides, it is as much the fault of the Jedi that the Empire exists. Their failure to see the threat, and the failure of their teachings to stop it." The Oracle looked away as she reflected on something. "You don't really have the full story of what happened, do you? Second-hand tales, Imperial propaganda, wishful thinking... no one else really has the means of manipulating time itself to discover the hidden truths. Half a century ago, at the close of the Clone Wars, Emperor Palpatine seized total control." The Oracle seemed lost in the memory of it. "Right there, that was the critical junction. Palpatine was strong in the Dark side, oh yes, but there were still two Jedi who had the means to thwart him, two who had the chance to destroy the Empire before it ever began. One I'm sure you can already guess at."

Annika nodded a little. Luke's father, who in the end embraced that same dark path, and cast a shadow over his family that haunts even Jaina and Sebastian generations later.

"The other was a Jedi Master, in fact," the Oracle continued. "A powerful master of the Force, whose fighting style was so aggressive it skirted the boundary between the Light and the Dark, yet he in his arrogance believed he could control it." As the Oracle spoke the air nearby shimmered until it formed a sphere, and inside a battle between Jedi and Sith played out. Palpatine was almost unrecognizable in his comparable youth, but as Annika watched she saw what the Oracle meant. The power of the Jedi master was obvious even through this vision, the way he disarmed his adversary and left him prone and helpless. "He placed Palpatine under arrest," the Oracle said with a rumble in her voice, "at the same time that young Skywalker arrived."

And there he was, exactly as Annika had seen in the records. She could read between the lines. This was the pivotal moment, when Anakin would stand in the light or embrace the darkness; when the Republic would endure or descend into the Empire that would bring two galaxies to their knees. Three human beings in this moment were about to affect more people than you could count in a lifetime.

"Anakin wants Palpatine taken alive," the Oracle said. "Windu has already arrested him. And yet... so close to the twilight between the two sides of the Force, so precariously balanced, as much in his way as the green youth beside him.

"The Force, Seven, has a strong influence on the weak of mind," she said bitterly. "But the influence on all minds, the unity of it, affects all. It can have a strong influence on the weak, but a weak influence on the strong. In the depths of his soul, Master Windu knew that the Jedi could not hope to remove Palpatine, not with the Senate and the Courts on his side. There was one and only one way to remove a man like Palpatine, one way to abort the birth of this monstrous thing called the Galactic Empire, and it took what all revolutions will ultimately end with... with one single swing of the blade."

Windu's face filled the sphere, frozen in his stare at the fallen Sith. The Oracle regarded him with nothing but contempt. "But that is not the Jedi way. That is not the way that Mace Windu and other teachers of the Jedi had pounded into Anakin Skywalker for years and years. And Palpatine, well, he was a friend and mentor to Anakin, keeping him in his confidence, offering things that the Jedi had refused. And Windu, who never made any attempt to hide his dislike for the young man, who despite all he had done never trusted him. Who would he side with, if Windu turned his back on all he'd told Anakin and tried to kill Palpatine? The answer is only too obvious." And now it was the fallen Sith who filled the sphere. "And Palpatine knew what was in the two Jedi's hearts, and so he reached out to Windu and gave that strong mind the weakest nudge, and toppled a thousand governments with it.

"Despite being a Jedi, despite the truth of Anakin's own words, in his heart of hearts, Mace Windu wanted to see Palpatine dead. Dead for the crimes he'd committed against the Republic. Dead for the worlds that burned by his order. Dead for the Jedi that fell in a war he caused. And that weak nudge was all that he needed to swing, and all the prompting young Skywalker needed to intercede." The scene played out, as Windu raised for the killing stroke, only to have the conflicted lad stop him, leaving the opening for Palpatine to destroy his own would-be killer. The air swirled less and the sphere evaporated.

The Oracle now glared at Annika. "Do you know why I hate the Jedi? Because they were given their chance, and they failed to measure up. It wasn't that their ideals failed them, it was that they could not hold themselves to those ideals!"

"One man's failure does not-"

"A Jedi master!" the Oracle shouted. "One of the most senior amongst the Jedi Council, could not measure up to their own standards! The Jedi always have been and always will be inferior because they will never admit that their code demands the impossible of them, that to do what must be done you have to be ready to cross the line!"

"So you side with the Sith that created the very Empire you seek to destroy?" Annika said, bringing up what seemed the obvious contradiction once again.

The Oracle scoffed at her. "The Sith are not like the Jedi, Seven. That Palpatine succeeds is not a victory for Sith everywhere, it's a victory for him and him alone. A Sith acquires power to attain their goals, and my goal is to destroy the Empire. Whether it was made by another Sith or not is of no consequence to me."

"But in your division, you are weakened," Annika shot back.

The Oracle leaned over her, until her face was mere inches away. "Think about the battle between Jedi and Sith Masters, and tell me which side it was that was divided."

Sith philosophy. Always kickass. Even if I can't spell it.

Supurb work. I like the RotS flashbacks as a history lesson, nicely done.

Part XIII


Lando Calrissian pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I want to pay you-"

"And I want to give you your shipment," Dalon Ros replied. "That's why I went into trade instead of becoming a computer debugger or an animal trainer. But if I'm to give you something, you have to give me something back. That's why it's called the 'trade' business instead of the 'charity' business, or the 'I was born yesterday' business."

"You'll get your money," Lando promised.

"Now," Dalon said, doing a little spin of his index finger and touching his desk. Lando didn't like it, it reminded him too much of the death spiral his company was in. "Payment upon delivery, that's what our contract says."

"Look, Dalon," Lando said, "I'm up against a wall here. The Empire's demanded credit on their ships, they're not paying me."

"You've got a contract," Dalon said with a shrug. "Sue 'em."

"We're at war, Dalon," Lando pointed out.

"The Empire's at war," Dalon said, "I'm not. That's why I went into trade instead of soldiering."

"When this is all squared away-"

"No, no, no," Dalon said emphatically. "Your company may be ready to plunge into bankruptcy, but I'm not holding hands with you on the way down. If you don't pay me, in full, now, I'll find someone else to buy this stuff, cut you off from all future sales, and put the word out on this. No respectable merchant's going to even pick up the comm link for you, understand? This is not how you run a business!"

Lando looked around the room, tight-lipped, trying not to give voice to his frustration. "Look, if the Vong win-"

"Don't talk to me about the Vong, Lando," Dalon interrupted. "I don't know when you fell in love with the Empire, but I'm not going to drive my business into the ground in the name of patriotism."

"I'm just being pragmatic," Lando said. "If the Vong win they'll kill all of us."

"I'd rather die rich than live in poverty," Dalon said flatly. "Now, we both know your business has been circling the drain. I've been making your deliveries only because a deal's a deal, but it stops being a deal when you stop paying. Now, what's it going to be? You going to pay me my credits, or are you going to drive a stake through your company's heart?"

"All right, all right!" Lando said. "Give me a minute to get it together; you'll get your money."

"I'm not going anywhere," Dalon said, then leaned in closer to Lando. "Yet." His hologram vanished. Lando hit the desk in frustration, then began gathering funds together. Finally he transfered the credits to Dalon Ros' account, and the latter began offloading the equipment for the fighters Lando wasn't being paid for. He pinched the bridge of his nose again; he wasn't sleeping much lately.

Lando reached forward and activated a few buttons. The holographic Quark materialized in the room. "Please state the nature of the fiscal emergency."

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Lando grumbled.

"I wish you wouldn't summon me like that," Quark shot back. "I'd like to keep what little dignity I have, thank you very much. Now what's the problem?"

Lando gave a gesture of hopelessness. "Unfortunately, you hit the nail on the head. We have a fiscal emergency. Dalon Ros showed up with his shipment."

"He wouldn't cooperate," Quark said, whose insight into the mind of businessmen everywhere bordered on supernatural. "I told you he wouldn't."

"Yeah, well, it was a long shot, but it was all we had." Lando settled back into his chair, if only as a token concession to his exhaustion. Quark took the seat opposite him. "He threatened to pull out and tell everyone we can't meet our bills."

"Expected that," Quark said. "And most don't need much of an excuse. The Empire hasn't been making friends out here, if you hadn't noticed. They're not going to listen to your 'all for one and one for all' speech. What did you do?"

Lando swiveled in his chair a little. "I paid him," he said finally.

"I see," Quark said, knowing he had taken the first step and now was waiting for the ground to hit him. "And where did you get the money?"

"The only place I could," Lando said. "Payroll."

Quark nodded. "Yeah," he said under his breath, picking out the rapidly approaching rocks at the bottom of the cliff. "And you think our staff will install those parts if we don't pay them?"

"Look, I didn't call you over here for this," Lando said impatiently. "We have two days to make payroll, let's do it."

"How?" Quark asked.

"Sell off some of the excess baggage," Lando said. "Some of the corporate ships-"

"You're not gonna move that stuff in two days," Quark said. "Not for the kind of value you're looking for."

"You have a better suggestion?" Lando demanded.

"Your plan isn't going to work," Quark said. "Don't waste time and resources on something that's just going to doom us anyway."

"It'll buy us time," Lando said.

"For what?" Quark asked. "Until the Empire pays us? The war's not going to be won next week, Lando; we're in this for the long haul. You need to not just look at the next two days, look at the next two months."

"I have," Lando said. He seemed to sink even further into the chair. "I have," he said in a voice just above a whisper.

"We need an investor," Quark said. "It's the only way; that or selling off what we have and starting again."

Lando shook his head. "I'm too old to start again, Quark. This company... it was my last shot at the big time... and we had it. I knew we had it..."

"We've had it," Quark said under his breath.

"I'm not giving up, not while there's any chance of staying afloat."

Quark leaned forward. "Then you know what you have to do."

Lando stopped for a moment, then swivelled back. "You're not suggesting..."

"No legitimate investor is going to touch us," Quark said. "Face facts. That only leaves the illegitimate ones."

"You know how hard we had to work to get out," Lando said.

Quark held up his hands. "What do you want me to say, I'm just the messenger. You sell out, Lando. One way or another. Otherwise the company's going to crumble around you." He leaned back in the chair, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "I miss my bar," he said. "Think things over, I'm going to visit it in the holosuite." Quark dematerialized, leaving Lando alone to face the decision.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Alema gestured and concentrated. Fire materialized out of the air around her. With further concentration they grew larger and crackled. Beyond them, the shadows flicked across the Oracle's face in a most unsettling manner. "Fair," the old woman said, "but you've forgotten something."

Alema strained. She hadn't forgotten, but the smoke wasn't easy to do while she concentrated on the flames. She tried, but the images shrunk and vanished. "I am sorry, master," she said.

"You should be," the Oracle said without pity. "Why fire, apprentice?"

Alema had read up on this. "Because the passion of the Sith, the fire in our blood, makes us strong."

"And you have no passion," the Oracle said sternly. "This is not an intellectual exercise, child. Use your hate, follow where it leads you. Stop trying to pull a parlor trick and show me fire!"

Alema nodded and closed her eyes to concentrate. She slowly raised her hand. "No!" the Oracle snapped. "You are not a Jedi, stop acting like one!" Alema's eyes snapped open at the rebuke, and was shocked to see a Vong warrior in front of her. Before she could react he hit her in the face, knocking her to the floor. She turned back and he was looking down at her, laughing. Laughing! "Burn him!" the Oracle commanded from somewhere in the darkness. The Vong was the only thing that mattered, his expression of bemusement at the fallen Twi'lek, that sickening chuckle of his, the sting on her cheek from the blow. She reached out her hand, and flames engulfed him, billowing smoke and radiating heat. This only intensified as the Vong screamed with rage, then soon vanished. "Enough," the Oracle said, and Alema ended the illusion. "Much better. Think like a Sith, child. You're not a Jedi any more."

"Yes, my master," Alema said. "Thank you." She rubbed the spot on her face where she'd been struck; it had been a Force blow, obviously, but it was hard not to think of the Vong as the one that had really done it.

"We will have time to discuss your training in detail over the coming days," the Oracle said, leading the way out of the training room. "We're behind schedule. The Empire should have collapsed months ago."

"Against the Vong," Alema said, not bothering to disguise her feelings about it. She may be the pupil in this relationship, but she wasn't going to keep silent about her opinions.

"Yes, child," the Oracle said. "The intervention by the Borg has given the Empire time to bring more of their forces into the fray. The Vong of your galaxy will not last much longer."

"Good," Alema said.

"No," the Oracle said sharply. "The Vong would have been overwhelmed by a united Milky Way alliance rallied around us. Instead the Empire is going to defeat them. Surely you must see, child?"

"So long as the Vong falls-" Alema began, but the Oracle had whirled around, a gnarled digit in the Twi'lek's face.

"Your hate makes you powerful," the Oracle said, "but in the foolish it's a blindfold. You are not looking beyond the defeat of the Vong, to what will happen afterwards. With the Vong threat eliminated the Empire will now be able to rebuild their military and reconquer the Milky Way. This took the finest planning, child. Dividing the loyalties of the citizenry, providing aid to Garak, Nom Anor, and Alixus, pinpoint strikes at the weak spots in their armor, so that the Vong could deliver the killing stroke. And all that planning, all those years... long years..." She faded off. "How many were there?" she asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"Master?" Alema asked. The Sith Master seemed suddenly very frail and exhausted, and the novice had no idea why. The sound of her voice seemed to snap her attention back.

"This time will be different," the Oracle said. "This time the Empire won't be able to recover."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Garak activated the holoprojector; the Oracle stared at him. Garak didn't like it. It was the only stare that could make him feel uncomfortable. "I take it this is urgent?" Garak asked, skipping past his usual banter. It never mattered with the Oracle, she could see right through him anyway.

"For you," the Oracle said. "The Empire's vulnerable now and ready to fall, and it will be its own short-sightedness that will serve as the catalyst."

"Wonderful," Garak said, since he had no idea how to respond. Provoking the Empire was something he'd hoped to avoid, even if they had lost their final superlaser. He was only involved because the Oracle had shown him just how easily she could destroy everything he'd worked for if the mood struck her.

"I'm glad you think so," the Oracle said. "Because I'll be giving you a very special gift. Of course, you'll need some fine mechanical minds to help."

"I have several good men in that area," Garak said.

"You have a handful, Garak," the Oracle replied. "The rest are glorified mechanics, not up to the task at all. You'll need help. You'll be rendezvousing with me at the coordinates I'm sending you to learn the details. Make sure to bring Calrissian with you, his people are up to this kind of challenge."

"Calrissian doesn't work for us any more," Garak pointed out.

"Don't keep me waiting, Garak," the Oracle said, and cut the transmission.

Garak sighed. That was the problem with the Oracle, she spent so much time looking into the past and the future that the minor details of the present eluded her. He was just about to reach for the comm to have someone arrange for his shuttle when it activated on its own. "Mr. Garak," came the voice of his aide. "There's a transmission coming in from Lando Calrissian. I told him you're busy but he says it's extremely urgent, that he needs to speak with you personally."

Garak stared at the comm unit for a few seconds. "How does she do that?" he asked quietly.

"Sir?"

"Put Mr. Calrissian through, please," Garak said. "I'm sure his business with us is most pressing."
--------------------------------------------------------------

The Oracle and her new apprentice had depart; Ben Skywalker had been left in charge. This was just the latest insult, as far as he was concerned. Of course he would be in charge while the Oracle was gone, being the senior-most Sith present and almost as powerful as she was. But it was the entire concept of being left here, like the oldest child babysitting everyone else while mom went out for the night. Ben had led armies; he didn't need for the Oracle to remind everyone that he was in command during her absence. He wielded authority as easily as he wielded a lightsaber. No, the purpose of that little gesture was to remind everyone, including Ben, of who was really in charge, of who had the power to give authority and take it away.

Hatred fueled the Dark side in Sith. The Oracle was Ben's personal dynamo.

Ben didn't wait long until after she and her new apprentice had departed. The new apprentice... that was another little effort on the Oracle's part to humiliate him. That simpering girl hadn't even been able to fight off Molly back on that Vong planet, and she was going to be the apprentice? Molly... she was still loyal to him, anyway, or at least, as loyal as Sith could be. Her training had been a personal affair, and he'd used subtle Force manipulations to help get her to trust him. Ironically, the Oracle had been pulling similar tricks on him. Whether Molly would feel the same if she ever found out was unimportant to Ben; Sith had little in the way of empathy.

Those little manipulations... Ben remembered that letting the new Sith apprentice live had been the Oracle's idea. It had made sense at the time, something to put the fear of the Jedi into him. Like everything else, it was all just a part of her larger plan in using Ben and the Sith against the Empire. Ben should have known better. There were two Sith approaches to enemies. One was to leave your enemies beaten but alive, like the Oracle did with her Borg captive... they reasoned that it was far crueler to let them know they've been defeated, and took great personal pleasure in knowing there was some crushed foe that hated them. This was all well and good, but as has already been established, Sith are patient, and a crushed Sith can think about nothing else but revenge. Many have risen up far enough to sieze it, even if it cost them their lives. That's why Ben and most sensible Sith chose to kill their enemies when they had the chance. Very few enemies dealt with in this fashion have managed to cause any further trouble.

Now he and Molly stood outside the entrance to the Oracle's laboratory. Years of experience with Section 31 had taught her how to bypass just about any lock that had been invented, but the Oracle proved quite the challenge. Nevertheless, persistence paid off, and the door slid open. Ben led the way, peering over the chemicals and machinery with only the barest interest. He had no science background so it was pretty much meaningless to him. "What are we looking for?" Molly finally asked after a couple of minutes. She hadn't been in here before and Ben could tell the room made her uncomfortable.

"The Oracle's hiding something from us," Ben said. "I want to find out what it is."

Molly nodded. "But the Oracle's very clever, Ben."

"Cleverness gets your foot in the door," Ben said, "but to be a Sith takes force of will. She has power, but she's distracted, and not altogether sane in any case. What's this?" It was a box, too long to be a footlocker or storage container.

"It's a stasis chamber," Molly said. "Haven't seen one of these in a while."

"How do you open it?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Molly said. "It could contain virus samples, hazardous bio-matter-"

"How," Ben said with a tone that frozen Molly to the bone, "do you open it?"

Molly stepped forward and quickly activated a few buttons on the panel. The lid opened with a hiss. Ben froze, Molly gasped beside him. Both could only stare at the contents of the chamber.

"Close it," Ben said finally. Molly was biting her lip, staring, but her hand seemed to operate independently out of self-preservation and tapped the panel, shutting the box. They still continued staring at it.

"What does it mean?" Molly finally asked.

"It means," Ben said slowly, "that there's a great deal more going on here than I ever expected."

Aiiigh Cliffhanger! *plummets to his doom*


Okay, I think there's been a basic failure of communications here. The audience wants to see Janeway suffer, but the memo seems to have been scrambled so that all we see is her causing suffering in others. We already had seven years of that on TV, so could we maybe buck the trend a little?

Would it kill Calrissian to consider cutting a deal with the Borg? Do we need to pull Batman in from another universe in the hopes that his unmitigated planning-wank can beat the Hell-bitch from beyond time?

Oh well, keep it up, and let Ben kill some more people, its therapeutic(for both him and me).

Great couple of chapters (didn't comment after the last one). I wonder what they found.

Very good. A nice ending. And now i wanna know what in the box!

In ancient pasts when the world was a thing beyond any possible knowing, save in the realm of superstition, nature became mythic. The ground would rumble and shake and crack, and it was viewed as the wrath of titans. The skies would open, and lightning would strike down trees and houses and men, which could only be caused by a wrathful supernatural force. The crack of thunder were so intense, so penetrating, it could only be the work of something far beyond men. It was only the gods themselves who could cause such impossible things.

But human beings cracked the secrets. They learned how the convection circuits in magma drove the tectonic action that shook the land from time to time. They learned what atmospheric discharges were for, and tamed the lightning and silenced its thunder. They went far beyond, patiently peeling back the layers to see how the universe worked until they understood so well, they now could control them. They had, after the millenia had passed, harnessed the power of the gods. But they were still only human.

B'vun II. Parched and cracked soil from too long a dry season dominates the view. A thundering crash, a cloud of dust, and the gigantic foot of an All-Terrain Heavy Transport is revealed. It lifts, swings, and drops, rumbling the earth with the impact. Up the massive leg to the "head" protruding from the elephantine body of the beast, light launching out from the turrets located on the undersides. It flies across the barren field and strikes an oversized beast, which howls and falls with a tremor of its own.

A Vong soldier and a quick-footed beast quickly wraps a cable around the two front legs to trip it. Sensors in the AT-HT detect the cable; a hatch pops open and an automated turret snaps out, fires off three shots before the severed cable drops, and just as sudden withdraws. The AT-HT moves on, leaving the Vong to the lighter vehicles while it continues on towards their primary target.

The Vong rider doesn't get far, but it wasn't from vehicle weapons fire. A blur struck him in the side and knocked him right off the creatures back. He grabbed his amphistaf as he pulled himself up, only to discover what was responsible was already hopping back to his. He struck quickly to catch the enemy off balance, but the thunder crashed as the blade of the lightsaber lit and struck. The two grappled for a moment, then the human gave. But he gave too much, and the Vong stumbled forward. As he did the human whirled, sidestepped him, and stuck out the blade, letting the Vong's own momentum drive his neck through it. Anakin Solo shut the blade down for the moment as he scanned the battlefield. He saw the two figures not thirty meters away, lightsaber and amphistafs clashing in what looked to be a stalemate. Arms pumping, fueled by Force energies, he sprinted across the distance and leapt, igniting his blade and swinging as he approached. It skidded harmlessly across the Vong's crab armor, but it was a moment's distraction. The other Jedi swung with all her strength and plunged through the armor and snuffing out the warrior's life. Both shut down their lightsabers and, despite the battle taking place around them, exchanged a moment of quiet. Well, Laudica Reshad's was more of a glare of annoyance than anything else. "I had it," she said sharply.

"We're not keeping score here," Anakin said.

"I've been in fights before," Laudica said defiantly. "I don't need you to lecture me on the subject."

"Good, because there's no time for one," Anakin said. He ran, Laudica close behind, until he found the late Vong's riderless mount. With a leap he dropped onto its back, whirled back and caught her arm, hoising her onto its back. He reached into its mind and soothed it, then rode it on towards the front line. A group of Vong warriors was charging; Anakin steered towards them. Just before they arrived Laudica leapt, tucking and rolling in the air. The group went down like a game of ten pins, and Anakin trod a few with the beast for good measure. He dropped into the mess, saber swinging as Laudica hopped to her feet and stood back to back with him. They were outnumbered and the Force was almost useless to them, but the Vong were confused and either wary of striking a friendly force or, even worse, not wary and doing so. Blades and amphistafs snapped at one another, but agility and coordination won out over brute force, and the two Jedi soon eliminated their opposition. "See?" Anakin said as he wiped the sweat from his face. "Teamwork."

"Yeah, thanks," Laudica said without a trace of honesty. She turned and whinced as she saw a walker foot drop on a wounded and prone Vong mount. It would be little more than a stain under all that weight; they weren't called "heavy transports" for nothing.

Anakin.

Anakin froze in the midst of the battle. Jaina?

Shaote is in trouble, I can't get there.

We're on it. Anakin tapped Laudica on the shoulder and started running, waiting for her to start before he got into a full sprint. They may squabble at times, but Laudica was always into the business at hand. As they ran Anakin could sense the desperation of the apprentices, and quickened the pace to Laudica's limit. The two ran under a pair of walkers, narrowly avoiding the same fate as the fallen mount in their haste. A squad of troopers was exchanging fire with some of the Vong. Anakin diverted slightly so that his shoulder clipped one of them. It weighed more than him, but Anakin had been braced for the collision, so while he stumbled just a moment, the Vong did a pirouette into some of its comrades, sending them sprawled. Anakin recovered and pushed on, then went to his absolute limit as his eyes finally filled him in on the details.

Sakonna was holding off two Vong warriors as best she could, green lightsaber blade catching the amphistafs despite the fury of their blows. But she had to focus solely on defense, which meant that the Vong could keep this up all day. All they needed to do was wait for her to slip up and let a blow through. Given that half her face was covered with green blood, she obviously had already slipped up once. But Anakin had to give her credit; despite the seriousness of her situation, Sakonna was a Vulcan. Even against two merciless killers she was as calm and controlled as if this wasn't even happening, as if she could stop it any time she liked, like some holo-simulation.

The "Vong bowling" strategy, as Laudica jokingly referred to it, had been grown out of an unintended colission during one of their previous engagements, when Jaina hit a rock at full speed and hit a group of enemy warriors. She'd been rather seriously injured in that, but it had gotten Anakin thinking. Now the technique was to use it and then, on impact, use the Force to help absorb the blow like an energy bolt. It still hurt like hell, but it did little injury and was good for tripping up large numbers of Vong at once. It wasn't likely to show up in any future books on Jedi techniques, but with the Vong being resistant to the Force in so many ways, Anakin felt every edge, even a silly one, was worth it. He'd trained the others somewhat in the technique, although at the moment only he and Laudica had a strong enough mastery to try it in a real fight.

Anakin and one of the Vong struck like a pair of billiard balls. At that speed, Anakin was left rolling like a destroyer droid for a dozen meters while the Vong made a few ungraceful flops. Sakonna slipped from defense to offense so quickly it was like a graceful dance performance. The Vong had mistaken her earlier caution for cowardice and tried to intimidate her with furious strikes, but she caught and deflected three before slipping through with a counter-strike to the neck, putting the headless Vong down. Laudica, who had slowed down enough to avoid a crash, arrived just as the Vong was getting back to his feet and dispatching him. It may have seemed callous, almost cruel, to strike down an opponent who couldn't mount a proper defense, but given the fact the Vong were trying the same thing with Shaote meant that there was no time for battlefield etiquette.

Shaote Lu was a mess. He'd taken several blows from amphistafs already, and a slice had penetrated his abdomenal cavity. It hadn't been disemboweling, but Shaote had been forced to hold the wound closed to keep from tearing himself open like an aged flour sack. He'd dropped his lightsaber and was using Force blows to knock Vong backwards as they tried to finish him off, but it wasn't something he could keep up for much longer with the sheer number of adversaries. But he was trying... he wasn't going down without a fight. Anakin couldn't help but be impressed. He'd visited Earth many times, and the locals had always seemed like complacent sheep to him. But then you had humans like Annika and Shaote, who had a tenacity you could sharpen razors with. When Terrans fought, they fought hard and dirty.

Anakin, Laudica, and Sakonna struck quickly, and the Vong seemed genuinely happier to go against a challenge rather than finishing off an annoying and wounded human. And it was not an easy fight. The deflecting armor, the amphistaf that could withstand a lightsaber, and the fact that a Jedi lost their number one advantage against Vong meant that these were never easy fights. But training and hard work had still given the Jedi the edge, and while facing down a Vong wasn't as easy as facing down a Klingon, there was only one way a confrontation like that was going to end.

Shaote protested as Sakonna knelt down and put a hand over his abdomenal wound, but it was mostly a token gesture. She had quickly mastered the healing aspect of the Force beyond those of her instructors, and Anakin could feel the warmth radiating off her as she helped the wound heal and the life force remain strong. He and Laudica took up a defensive position, should any more Vong come along, but it didn't seem likely. The Imperial line had moved on and the Vong had fallen back to hold them off. A medic rushed over, ready to tend to Shaote, but Anakin told him to leave him in Sakonna's hands. Confused but used to following odd orders, he tended to the Vulcan's facial wounds instead.

Shaote and Sakonna are safe, Anakin thought.

Good.

They're hurt though.

Then Oria and I will finish the job.

But you said I could have the last one, Anakin thought. The jocular nature of the remark didn't have to be emphasized. Telepathic communication carried more undercurrents than any voice ever could.

Let's hope this is the last one, Jaina thought.

Anakin turned to Laudica. "Jaina's going to take care of this one."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Laudica asked. "Oria's never faced a yammosk before."

"There always has to be a first time," Anakin said.

"And what if... it... happens again," Laudica asked.

"Jaina's faced the yammosk before," Anakin said. "This isn't going to turn out like it did for Alema."

"It's the last one, Anakin," Laudica said. "There's no sense in exposing Oria."

"You know how this works," Anakin said. "You need two people, at least. You send one Jedi in there, when the yammosk can give you its full attention, and it'll turn your mind to slush."

"Then let's go-"

"There's no time," Anakin said. "And we're needed here." Laudica was biting her lip trying to keep her mouth shut. "You want another problem like on Yessik?"

Yessik had been liberated three months ago. That time the structure protecting the yammosk sustained several heavy hits during the fight. Because of the extent of the damage it was decided to use precision bombardment to annihilate the place. Then the clean up began and order started to return to the world, then the place went mad. It turned out that the yammosk, like some antiquated horror story, had escaped into the run off canals beneath the city and was attacking the minds of the locals. Hundreds died and just as many went mad before it was figured out, and Anakin and Laudica had gone down to finish it off. Tarr agreed after that that no yammosk was considered dead until they saw the body.

There was a flicker in the Force. It was akin to what happens when a background noise that you didn't even notice was there suddenly vanished. It was the familiar sign of the yammosk expiring, and its influence upon the Vong forces was noticeable. Within minutes the shield generator was bombarded by the Imperials, leaving little left for B'vun II but mopping up and rebuilding. That wouldn't require the Jedi. Anakin pulled out his commlink. "This is Anakin Solo, requesting emergency medical energizing."

"Copy Solo. Stand by for transport."

"I will never get used to this," Laudica said as Anakin slipped the commlink back. "Give me a shuttle any day."

"Gotta move with the times, Laudica," Anakin said, and the foursome vanished.
--------------------------------------------------------------

It was well after midnight, local time, when the door slid open, but Annika's eyes flashed open as if she hadn't even been asleep. Once she'd acclimated herself to the human condition she'd grasped the finer points of sleeping and waking and handled it like a pro. A strong sense of self-preservation didn't hurt. "What do you want?" she asked icily.

Ben Skywalker stepped into the dark room. The door was still open, but it didn't matter. Annika knew he was far too powerful to try to evade or incapacitate. Still, she tensed herself; if this was another torture session, she'd see about giving as good as she got. Instead, he spoke to her, authoritatively, but without contempt or disrespect. "Molly tells me you're an investigator."

Annika may have been adaptive, but even she couldn't change her train of thought that fast at this time of night. "What?"

"She says you used to do investigations for the Federation, and then for the Empire."

"I never worked for the Empire," Annika said sharply. "I helped some friends of mine, that's all."

"But you do have some skills, right?"

Annika scoffed. "You think I'm going to help the captain and her mad plans? I've-"

"I'm not asking you to help her," Ben said. "I'm asking you to help me."

"Oh, you're conspiring against her," Annika said. "And I'll just ignore the blood trail you've left across the galaxy-"

"Listen," Ben said sharply, "you want to remain locked up in here on the Oracle's whim? If you helped me topple her-"

"I've replaced one Sith Lord with another," Annika said.

"If she's gone," Ben said through his teeth, "you can learn how to use her equipment... you can send me back."

"Back? To your own time?"

"To my own universe," Ben said. "She brought me here, I've just been trying to make the most of it. She said she couldn't send me back, but she's said a lot of things that aren't true. I'm betting you could do it. We'd both get what we want."

Annika mulled this over a bit. It explained a lot, actually. She didn't trust Ben an inch, but she didn't want to stay couped up in this cell either. A diversion would be welcome. "What's your plan?" she asked.

"Just come look at this," Ben said, leading the way out of her cell. He stood a short ways outside and waited for her. "Don't try to run, it will just annoy me."

"I wouldn't want to do that," Annika said without bothering to hide her contempt. Ben grabbed the back of her neck; it was a bionic hand, she could tell. The pressure caused spots to appear in front of her eyes.

"No," he said in a low, dark voice, "you wouldn't." He gave her a shove. "This way."

Ben and Annika wound through the compound and into the Oracle's lab. "You want me to look at the temporal equipment?" Annika asked. "It would take-" But she was cut off as Ben shook his head firmly, then pointed to a stasis chamber, pushed off into the corner of the room as if unimportant. Annika looked back at Ben, then walked over and activated it. The cover hissed open, Annika glanced back at her captor while it did, then looked inside. She gasped. "Did you-"

"The Oracle left hours ago," Ben said stepping over to her side. "We all saw her go... felt her go..." He stared down into the chamber. "So, miss investigator, tell me, what the hell is that?"

Annika's mouth opened and closed a few times as she tried to speak but couldn't. She reached down and touched it... it felt real. "I'll see what I can do," she said, finally tearing her eyes off the still shape of Kathryn Janeway.

You are a master.

This gets better and better. Good work, as always.

Great. This is really getting interesting (OK, actually it's been interesting for a long time).

Sweet...Zomibe...Jesus. That is damn cool and once again a cliffhanger.

General Taar's flagship hung over B'vun II while the pacification was completed. He'd come here personally for the same reason the Jedi had, to deal with the yammosk, the Vong war coordinator. It was on that ship that Shaote Lu was being lowered into a Bacta tank to recover from a brutal confrontation with the Vong. Three of his Jedi companions had accompanied him, including Anakin Solo. Now that the young apprentice was being tended to, Anakin slipped away to confront the general himself. As expected, he was in the war room, one eye on the closing steps on B'vun, the other on the campaign against the Vong. "Pass that tactical data along to the Alliance," Taar told his subordinate. "Borda could probably stage some very effective raids."

"General," Anakin said, just loud enough to get his attention without disrupting things.

Taar turned. "Ah, Mr. Jedi," he said, turning back to the campaign. "Good work down there."

"Thank you, general," Anakin said. "I'd like a word, if you please."

"I'm rather busy right now, Mr. Jedi." Taar hadn't even bothered to turn that time.

"General," Anakin said, slightly more forcefully. "Please?"

Taar sighed, offered a quick instruction, and stepped over. "What is it, Mr. Jedi?"

"General," Anakin said, "'Jedi' isn't my last name. Please don't call me that."

"What do you want?" Taar asked impatiently.

"I wanted to discuss the Empire with you," Anakin said.

Taar laughed just a little. "That's a rather large topic to delve into right now."

"We would like to see you pass Imperial control back to the senate," Anakin said.

"Ah," Taar said. "'We' being the Jedi?"

"Yes," Anakin said. "Although I'm sure we're not alone in this."

"No," Taar said, heading back towards the displays and holograms.

"General, you said you'd hand authority back when we've won."

"And I will," Taar said. "But it's too soon. The Vong still oppose us."

"Their back's broken, general," Anakin said. "The last yammosk has been killed, the war is over."

"Do we know that?"

"The Borg pulled that data from the minds of several Vong prisoners," Anakin said. "You know it has to be accurate."

"There's no sense in taking chances," Taar said. "We'll prosecute this war to the end, then we'll know we've won."

"I understand, but the Vong have been crushed, general. Without the war coordinator, it's just going to be mop up. We both know this."

"Then let me mop up, Jedi," Taar said, putting the emphasis on the final word.

"General-"

"The Vong could still win if we mismanage things," Taar said.

"We could still lose even if we crush them, general," Anakin said. "Maybe not by the Vong, but from what we've done to ourselves. We need to let the Empire run itself again."

Taar stepped over, not even bothering to hide his anger, but when he spoke it was in a whisper. "What do you want me to do, Jedi? Hand the galaxy over to the Vong? Because that's exactly what would happen if we try reconvening the Senate."

"You have to trust in the people, general," Anakin said.

"I do, to an extent," Taar said. "But people are panicked, and you and I both know that when any sentient being panics it ceases being an intelligent being and becomes an animal." Anakin was about to reply, but Taar's whisper took on a more urgent tone. "You look at the holonet reports, Jedi? Piracy is at an all time high, core worlds are being raided like this was the damn delta quadrant! There are riots on Corellia, Malastare, Nar Shadaa, people are talking about seceding from the Empire, and you want me to let these people run things?"

"It's what the Emperor believed in," Anakin said.

"The Emperor believed in a lot of strange things in those last days," Taar remarked. "Ever since Bastion fell, really. But he wouldn't have let this motley crew run themselves now, not when the enemy still has breath to resist us. Your mother wouldn't have either."

"That's a cheap shot," Anakin said darkly.

"She's the one who dissolved the senate," Taar pointed out. "When things become desperate, you have to be ready to do unpleasant things."

"Ends justifying the means, general? I thought you were better than that."

"The end is stopping genocide," Taar said. "We cannot afford to kriff around with the Vong when the stakes are this high! That's exactly what got us into this situation in the first place."

"What got us into this was that no one listened when the warning about the Vong came," Anakin said.

"No one in the senate," Taar said. "Thanks for making my point for me. We had the resources of two galaxies to call upon in this. Have you any idea what we could have done if we'd only had the will to use it? We played games, Jedi, and we gave the Vong a beachhead, and now what should have been a minor incursion has become our mortal enemy. I have been reduced to negotiating with every kind of scum in the universe to try to clean up the mess this grand experiment has gotten us into. We have the advantage, finally, and I will not back off, I will not play games, I will not hesitate to use every last bit of authority vested in me to drive the Vong into their graves, and if that means the people of the galaxy will despise me for the rest of their lives, I will take great comfort in knowing it will be a long and healthy hate."

Anakin nodded a little, not looking Taar in the face. His voice took on the same whisper. "The Jedi rose up to topple the Empire once, general," he said coldly. "Maybe that was why the Emperor brought them back? To serve as a check against the authority of the Empire?"

Taar didn't show his surprise but Anakin could sense it all the same. "Is that a threat, Jedi?"

"An observation," Anakin said. "Since the Empire brought the Jedi back, we have worked with the Empire. It's our job to protect it... even from itself."

"Dispensing your wisdom to us from up on high," Taar said with contempt. "I saw the old Jedi temple before the Borg blew up Coruscant. There's a reason the building was capped with an ivory tower. Going out, picking and choosing who would join and who would not, what battles to fight and what to sit out. Don't let the old romanticism fool you. You're a country club who won't truck with those who aren't your kind of people."

"Look, general," Anakin said, "we both know what this is really about. You're not going to finish the Vong off and head into retirement. You're going back to the Milky Way, aren't you. You're going to relive the glory days."

"Good men died," Taar said sharply. "They weren't 'glory days.'"

"Whatever. You're not going to honor the agreement. Everybody knows it. This was just a stop-gap measure so you could fight this war on one front. You'll head after the independent worlds before the last Vong body cools."

"I swore to preserve the Empire," Taar said. "That's what I'll do." Anakin opened his mouth to reply but Taar held up his hand. "Get out of my war room, Mr. Solo. Get out and let me do my job."

The room had become silent, save for the beeping of various instruments around the room. Anakin turned, looked at each other person in turn, then showed himself out.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Sebastian awoke to a symphony of noise. Bells were ringing, chimes were going off, sirens roared, buzzers buzzed, hyperactive dingers dinged, something was going "whoopwhoopwhoopwhoop," and underneath it all was some noise that implied the cube was backing up. Sebastian dropped off the bed to the floor and jumped to his feet, lightsaber at the ready as he looked about.

"The time is now 0700," the Borg announced.

Sebastian stood there in his underwear a while before he turned off the lightsaber. "That's a hell of a wake up call," he muttered. The bed was sucked into the floor to avoid wasting valuable space on a ship with roughly the same area as Haiti. Clothing appeared on the table next to him, freshly replicated. Sebastian sat down on the chair next to it and dressed. "Next time," he said, "less of a cacophony, please." He lifted the shirt off, and breakfast appeared on the now empty table. French toast, just like mother used to make, and pulled precisely from the records of all her memories. It was a little sad, but Sebastian ate them because they were a small bit of his real home in this new one he'd fashioned.

"What's the situation?" he asked as he plowed through the stack.

"Our current velocity is Warp 17.216," the Borg said. "Estimated time of interception with navigation coordinates in 27.14 minutes. Hull integrity 100%. Ship functions occurring at-"

"Stop!" Sebastian said, dropping the fork onto the plate. "This isn't going to work." He'd spent all his time since his separation interacting with the Borg Queen directly. This far away she had to speak to him using the voice of the Collective. And that was the problem, the voice was too much. Admittedly it had been fun for a little while; Sebastian would instruct them to speak tongue-twisters just to let the absurdity pass the time. But the novelty wore off fast; now it was starting to get to him. He was an individual among Borg... Borg who think as one, who communicate without words, and when they do speak, speak with only one voice. They looked humanoid, but they acted like pieces of a machine, which of course they were, but that they were nothing more than those pieces. They had a purpose, a function, and that was all that mattered. Humanoid issues were of no concern. They took care of Sebastian, but they didn't actually care for him, didn't actually feel anything. He was one more task, nothing more.

There were 37.2 million drones on this ship, and Sebastian felt horribly alone.

"I need to talk to an individual," Sebastian said.

"Who do you need to speak with?" the Borg asked.

"I mean that I need to speak to an individual Borg."

"We are Borg, there are no individuals."

"Right, right," Sebastian said as he rubbed his face with one hand. "It's gonna be a long day. I need to speak with a single drone."

"You wish to communicate with us through a representative."

"Exactly," Sebastian said.

A drone walked in; Vulcan female, roughly 1.6 meters tall. She turned to Sebastian. "I speak for the Borg," she explained.

Sebastian wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Designation?"

"Two of Six," she replied.

"Female," Sebastian remarked. "Because of my previous interactions with the Borg Queen?"

"Yes. And because of your mother. My biological distinctiveness has been calculated to be familiar enough to provide comfort without being similar enough to influence undue emotion."

"Well," Sebastian said, not quite sure how to respond. "Thank you."

"Thanks are unnecessary; I am here to optimize your efficiency."

"Now you sound like my mother," he said under his voice.

"On the contrary, Seven of Nine's voice operated at a frequency-"

"Never mind," Sebastian said, tossing the napkin on the empty plate; both vanished. "Do you remember when our minds were one?"

"The Collective has a full record of the time you were connected with us."

"Do you, personally, remember?" Sebastian asked.

"You are misunderstanding, Sebastian," Two of Six said. "I am using the personal pronouns to facilitate our communication. You must remember the experience of being one of us."

"Yes," Sebastian said. There was no mistaking the sound in his voice. He doubted anyone out there could understand how he could feel that way. "Better dead than Borg" was a long-standing policy that many who opposed them had adopted. The closest he could ever come to explaining this to anyone would be the same difference between sex and rape. Those forced into the Collective could never forget, or forgive, the violation. Those who joined voluntarily could never forget the peace, the certainty, the unity. It was such a temptation at times, when Sebastian was so very, very alone, when he felt that bare spot where Jorri should be sleeping, when he thought about the years he spent with his daughter that never actually happened...

"We should be approaching the coordinates soon, yes?" Sebastian asked, deciding to focus on work instead.

"We were," Two of Six said. "We're diverting course. Heading one-"

"Wait, why are we diverting course?" Sebastian asked.

"Long-range sensors detect bioship presence in that area."

"You mean we've found them?!"

"Possibly."

"Then let's get to work," Sebastian said, hooking on his lightsaber and grabbing his cloak.

"We are at work," Two of Six said. "We are always at work."
--------------------------------------------------------------

The only light was the one provided by Kilana's headlamp, which was low and tended to bob around as she moved, but the only view was of a pair of feet anyway. She continued her belly crawl; she wasn't claustrophobic, but this experience was making a good effort.

The foot in front of her dislodged some soil, kicking a couple handfuls worth of dirt right into her face. "Sorry," Han muttered, but his tone changed when he heard Kilana's coughing fit. "Stop that!" he said in as quiet a voice as he could manage.

"I-" she let out another spasm, "I can't help it."

"The Vong collapsed two tunnels already," Han reminded her sharply. "One when there were still people inside. Let's not go for number three."

"Why aren't these damn things shored up?" Kilana said in quiet frustration. "Dirt everywhere and no one let's you cough..."

"Because the sound of shoring up would bring the Vong down like a ton of soil, which is exactly what's going to happen if you don't quiet down. Now let's go."

"Try to be more careful," Kilana grumbled.

"You wanna push the damn box?" Han asked. There was a grunt as he got it moving again. Mini-repulsors kept it from sinking into the dirt floor and walls, but moving the thing forward required overcoming inertia, and it was damn heavy. He gave it another shove to try and keep it moving, then there was a thump as he hit wall. "I think we're here," he said.

"Finally."

Han moved his headlamp around until he saw the thread. He grabbed it and gave a yank. About half a minute passed, then there was the sound of furniture being moved and wood being pulled off. "[What's this?]" a Sullustan on the other side asked.

"Present from Borda," Han said, although his voice was low and tense. Accidents happened, and Han's luck came in extremes of good and bad. Someone on the other side grabbed the box and heaved it out. Three humanoids were present, pointing blaster rifles at him. "Can we come out," Han asked. "My partner's grousing about the dirt."

"What's happening?" Kilana demanded.

"Shut up, please," he said in a kind of sing-song voice.

The Sullustan, presumably the one who'd spoken before, nodded to the others and weapons were loaded. "[Mr. Solo,]" he said, extending a hand to help Han out of the tunnel. "[I'm Nellim, the contact for this cell. Your reputation precedes you... as does this crate of medical supplies, I hope.]"

Han dropped to the floor, then reached back and helped the dirty and angry Vorta out into the basement. "Not quite."

"Blasters?!" a human who had opened the case remarked. "We don't need weapons, we need medicine!"

"Trust me, you're gonna need these more," Han said.

"[What's happening?"] Nellim asked.

"The Alliance got intel from the Imperials," Han said. "The last yammosk is down, the Vong are re-aligning their forces to resist the Empire's advance."

"[They're pulling forces from here?]"

"They already have," Han said. "We need to get your people ready fast, Nellim, because we're taking this world back from the Vong."

That's pretty awesome.

Good. Things may be coming full circle with the empire.

I forget, when did Sebastian become an individual again?

Chapter 10, it's still floating around somewhere.

BTW, I really do appreciate the feedback everybody, and I'm sorry that I'm so goddamn busy I can't do much more than pop in, post and run. I promise though that I'll at least keep putting new chapters up once a week.

Dawn of Forever, Part XVI

It had taken a little digging, but Annika had managed to find a recent medical scan of the Oracle in the computer's database. Ben Skywalker brought her the equipment she'd need; nothing that could be used as a weapon, of course. Still, the discovery inside the stassis chamber was too much for her to run away from without knowing what was going on. She ran a medical scan of the body inside the box for comparison.

"Is it dead?" Ben asked as Annika started examining the results.

"Yes," Annika said. "Although I can't spot a cause of death... but then, I'm not a doctor."

"But it is a living thing, yes?" Ben asked. "Not a droid or hologram."

"It's organic," Annika said. "There's glass embedded in the hands. Looks like defensive wounds. But it was just superficial damage."

"So, the question then is," Ben offered, "whether this is the real Janeway, or the Oracle."

Annika nodded. "I thought that's what you'd like to know. Genetically, they are the same, so this isn't a cosmetically altered cadaver."

"Could one of them be a clone?"

"That's what I'd be most inclined to think," Annika said. "Let me look things over first."

Ben nodded, knowing he was out of his element without a map. He was not technically-minded outside the limited area of weapons. He was more interested in taking people apart than putting them back together. "A clone would explain a great deal… Force users don't clone well; they tend to go mad."

"Like the captain."

Ben nodded. Molly had been shocked just at the sight of the body, but that hadn't mattered to Ben; it was the idea that he faced an enemy that suffered the mental skewing of a clone. Anger, hatred, passion fueled the dark side, but so did madness. "Can you tell how long the corpse has been dead?"

"No, a stasis chamber would halt all life -well, death in this case- processes. There's no way to tell."

"Isn't there some kind of recorder or something on the box?" Ben asked. "Some kind of data."

"No," Annika said. "First thing I checked. I'm afraid it..." She stared for a moment. "Now that is very interesting."

"What is?"

"This thing," Annika said, pointing to a white solid amidst the haze of the various soft tissues. "It makes no sense."

Ben squinted at it. "Some kind of prosthetic?"

"It's a jerry-rigged hip pin," Annika said. "You won't find any med supply store or replicator that will make one."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I made it," Annika explained. "Years ago, when we were experimenting. There was an accident, the captain was hurt, I had nothing to work with, so I used my nanoprobes to improvise a pin... I grew it inside her body using my tubules. You can tell because there's no trace of surgery; not even the best regenerators can remove all trace of an operation, there's always going to be some minor misalignment. Even if you transported it in, it would still effect the tissue in a different way than this. This person was operated on by someone who has control over Borg nanoprobes and possesses assimilation tubules, and can you guess how many such people there are in the universe?"

"Just you," Ben said, looking between the two images. Both had the exact same object. "So, not a clone. What is she then?"

"Not a standard clone," Annika corrected. "But there is such a thing as a transporter clone, that could reproduce the pin..."

"Can you tell if that's what happened?" Ben asked. His knowledge of transporter technology was limited as well, although that was more because of its absence from his own galaxy.

"No," Annika answered. "A transporter is designed to reproduce an exact copy of the original; if there were any differences, then people would change over time with transporter use. However, the biggest problem with this is that transporter cloning is virtually impossible. In all my readings on it there's been one accidental success and thousands of failures, and the failures are very unpleasant, believe me."

"Wouldn't that explain the glass? Something blew up during the transport?"

"No, that's not what usually happened, and besides, they were defensive wounds, remember? It would be a miracle if the captain managed to create such a clone, but then, she's grown so powerful. She could..." Annika trailed off as she looked over some of the readings. "Her midichlorian count is different," she said softly.

"Does that mean anything?"

Annika looked between the two readings. "Well, it might. Midichlorians are what make the whole Force process workable, and the captain had to artificially stimulate their growth in an effort to develop her powers to this degree. It indicates that if this were a transporter clone, that the cadaver would have been from many years ago."

Ben nodded, although it was only to not appear to be ignorant. "There's also the other possibility," he said. "We know she has no problem reaching across universes."

"Alternate universe?" Annika asked, then shook her head. "Not a bad guess, but no." She took up a tricorder. "You're familiar with the idea of a universal constant, right? Well, you can use that to tell if something's crossed the threshhold. You, for example, have six different minor variations from the rest of the matter in this room; you're not from the universe. The cadaver, however, is perfectly in sync, as is the still living version. No, one thing we do know is that both are from this universe. They belong here, cosmically speaking."

"So, it's probably a transporter clone," Ben said.

"I wouldn't say 'probably,' but I would say it's the only answer that at least falls within the realm of possibility. Let me run some more tests-"

"In the morning," Ben said.

"I can function without sleep," Annika explained. And it gives me the chance to find a means of escape, she thought.

Ben, of course, was no fool. "We are going to bed," he said.

"If that's what you want," Annika said coyly. This was the first time she'd been allowed some kind of freedom outside her cell. Whatever distasteful task was required was worth it, since it offered a chance for some future plot.

Ben gave a lopsided grin. "I killed Luke Skywalker." Annika's grin faded like a cloud blocking out the sun. "Yeah, thought that might shut you up. You're not charming me, right?"

Annika glowered at him. "You are a bastard," she rumbled.

"All the more reason to put me back where I came from," Ben said. "Now move."

Annika shut down the equipment and marched out of the lab, Ben close behind her.
--------------------------------------------------------------

"No, no!" Han said, getting up from his chair and stepping to the center of attention. Nellim stopped and deferred to him. "The attack is already planned, the Alliance is sending in everything. This is not your fight."

"[This is our world,]" a Rodian said. "[Who are you to come in here and tell us we can't fight for it?]"

"You've got more important things to worry about than fighting for your planet," Han said. "You've got to fight to protect your families and neighbors. The Vong have slaughtered the locals more than once before pulling out. Your job, priority one, is to get your people to places of safety and make sure that no Vong decides to take out their frustrations on them."

"[Mr. Solo is correct,]" Nellim said. "[All that we did was to ensure that our people were kept safe. This is when they need us the most to do that job.]"

"Good, all right." Han pointed towards the flickering holodisplay of the city before them. "We need to idenfity safe refuges for these people."

"The stadium has large capacity and solid construction-" someone began.

"No, it's too tempting a target. One shot from a coralskipper and you'll have thousands dead. We can't keep all these eggs in one basket. Underground is good, especially if it can be easily defended. You've got to get organized, plan out the details, but be ready to toss them at a moment's notice. But above all, you have to make sure that no matter what happens, those people out there think you're in control. You panic, they'll panic. They see you're on top of things, they'll be that much more likely to listen and stay calm."

"[Stick close to your own neighborhoods,]" Nellim said. "[The familiarity will be a comfort, and the people will know you, trust you.]"

"Good," Han said. "All right, those of you who haven't handled a blaster before, or haven't had much experience, you're with me. The rest of you, get started on the plans. We have got to be ready to move the entire population of this city the moment the Alliance arrives. Move."

The group started breaking up. Kilana caught Han's arm as he went by. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a natural leader?" she asked. "Because you are."

Han's face became a little downcast. "Yeah... yeah, someone did once." He pulled his arm away. "Let's get some work done."
--------------------------------------------------------------

Annika was dropped off insider her cell. Ben at least had the decency not to throw her in there, but she doubted it was anything other than not alienating someone he needed for the moment. "'No Sith can manipulate time itself,'" Ben remarked.

"Pardon?"

"That's what I said to the Emperor, or whatever it was that was passing for the Emperor," Ben said. "And he said 'Can't they?' And I didn't get it... I didn't get that he was warning me of what I had aligned myself with."

"His ways were often subtle," Annika said. "You'd find there are many advantages in a soft touch, but then that's something you Sith never understood."

"Why do you provoke me?" he said with an exasperated sigh. He made an off-handed gesture that knocked Annika off her feet.

"Because you've destroyed my family," Annika shot back. "You know what that's like?"

Ben grinned but there was no humor in it. "Only too well. The Emperor was the Oracle's counterpart, wasn't he? He could stop time, he did stop time, right before the end. His grasp of it exceeds even her dark powers."

"You could look at it that way," Annika admitted.

"She's done all she could to further her cause," Ben said. "She tells everyone everything they need to know to use situations to her advantage. Did he do the same?"

"No," Annika said. "No, he knew better than that."

"I think you're lying," Ben said. "Don't make me extract the truth from you."

"Not what the Oracle does," Annika said. "Not this puppetmaster thing she does with people. He always let people make the decisions he knew they had to make."

"So he didn't even warn them?"

Annika's eyes were downcast. "Yes, he did," she said quietly. "But he always gave hope. He was good at that."

"What did he tell you?" Annika didn't answer, just stared at the floor. "Tell me." Force lightning crackled around his hand.

"That I'd lose him again," Annika said, and there were tears in her eyes as she looked up at Ben. "But I'd find him again."

"Nice," Ben said contemptuously. "He get the same message?"

"No," Annika admitted. "When the time came, when his son needed him, he'd be there to save him."

"Lucky for him," Ben said. "The little half-breed needs all the help he can get."

Annika gave him a look full of daggers. "He stopped the Oracle's plans," she said. "He confronted her and won. That's more than you ever have." She hit the wall and dropped hard to the floor.

Ben lowered his hand. "Don't provoke me," Ben warned. "I need you... don't make me break you." Then he sealed the door to the cell.
--------------------------------------------------------------

The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace and floated alone in the void. It was one of those gaps of deep space that Garak favored, where the nearest star was no different than one half-way across the galaxy. Garak leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. "Pleasant view," he said because it's impossible for Garak to shut up.

"Who's our contact, Garak?" Lando asked, not even bothering to hide his annoyance. Being away from his business was bad enough, being anywhere near Garak was far worse; add them up and you got a recipe for Pissed Off Lando Stew with extra bile.

Garak smiled and then looked over at Lando, a technique he probably long ago perfected to cause maximum infuriation. "You'll find out soon enough." An alarm sounded and Garak glanced down. "Ah, there she is." Garak sent out a coded signal; the other ship gave a response. Apparently satisfied, he lowered the shields.

"What are you doing?" Lando demanded.

"Our next stage of the trip is with them," Garak said. Before Lando could protest they were materialized off the ship. Waiting for them was a blue-skinned Twi'lek girl, who was at the helm, and-

Lando hesitated as he took it in. He'd met Kathryn Janeway on more than one occassion, but that had been a long, long time ago. Nevertheless, there was something familiar about her that had nothing to do with looks or voice. It wasn't the Force or anything like that, just an old scoundrel's instinct for trouble. It was Cloud City all over again. When she spoke to him she seemed polite enough, but underneath, he could feel that same sense of... confidence, but something much more. It was like egotism backed up with fact; she was better than everyone else, and while she wasn't going to bring it up, everyone would know it. If they didn't, they'd learn it the hard way.

Lando could feel it in his bones: she was a Sith.

The ship disappeared back into hyperspace again. "Mr. Calrissian," the Oracle said as they traveled, "you will continue to supply ships to the Imperial military; do not worry about the money, you will be paid in full for every fighter that comes off your assembly line. I don't want the Empire thinking you're conspiring against them."

Lando crossed his arms. "Am I conspiring against them?" he asked.

"Some would call it that," the Oracle said. "You have engineers, mechanics, competent men and women that can perform a thousand minor miracles. I'll need them. Actually, Mr. Garak will need them."

"You still haven't told me what I'll be getting out of this," Garak pointed out.

"More than you ever dared dream, Garak," the Oracle said. "And you'll find it.... here." The ship dropped out of hyperspace.

Garak strained his eyes. "On that moon?"

The Oracle offered a faint smile. "That's no moon..."

"Oh my God," Lando said slowly in words just barely audible.

"Take us in," the Oracle said. "Let's take a better look at this battlestation."

HOLY.....

Chuck, you are the man.

That may have been my favorite chapter of this story so far. So much is being set up. Thanks Chuck. Also, once a week is great (although don't rush). It's better than I'm doing with my story.