Blood of Heroes, Part XXXI-XXXIX

[Sonnenburg]

On the abandoned world of the Sith, Seven and Anakin continued their discussion of the former denizens of this world, and the ramifications of their actions. The revelation that former Starfleet captain Janeway had been with them was a particularly hot topic.

"What makes you think this Janeway has thrown in with the Sith?" Anakin asked.

"Besides the fact you saw her with him?" Seven replied.

"Yes. I mean, you said you suspected it."

"I did. It was the reason I came here, something I'd been thinking about since I heard your description of the attacker." Seven started packing her gear up. "The captain has been becoming more and more obsessed with preventing the conquest of the Milky Way by the Empire." Anakin gave her a look that showed just how insane the idea was. "She was making a lot of progress in manipulating time," Seven said. "I'd been helping her at first, but when I found out what she was planning, I dropped out. I have far too much to lose to allow her to mess with the past... a little push in the wrong place, and I might never have met Luke." She was quiet as she reflected for a time; Anakin didn't interrupt. "Despite all the downswings, I wouldn't trade a minute for anything."

"Then why didn't you stop her?" Anakin asked.

"Because her experiments always had the same results," Seven explained. "She couldn't change the past, no matter what she tried. I don't know if it was a mistake in her method or if some force like Q or something was stopping her, but regardless, her attempts all ended with failure."

"But still, she could have succeeded."

"You have to understand the captain," Seven said. "When she gets stuck on something, you can't make her let go; you've got to wait until she decides it on her own. The only way to stop her would have been to have her locked up... and I couldn't do that. Crazy or not, I'd still be a drone if it wasn't for her."

“But now you suspect she’s involved with the Sith?”

“She has time manipulating technology,” Seven pointed out. “And a passionate desire to undo the Empire. She could certainly have accidentally brought a dark future or alternate Skywalker of some kind here, and then fallen under his influence with promises of destroying the Empire.”

“It would explain a lot of things,” Anakin admitted. “So, what happens now?”

“For me, nothing much has changed,” Seven said. “This only further demonstrates how far she’s come with her technology. She can help me undo what happened with Sebastian.”

“But the Sith-“

“I know,” Seven said with frustration. “But what other choice do I have? Every day increases the likelihood that I’ll be prevented from interfering, just like she is. I’d rather risk facing a Sith than allowing this timeline to continue.”
--------------------------------------------------------------

General Taar had gotten very little sleep on his trip to the Eclipse; there was far too much that had to be done to indulge in that, so he took some stims. He wondered for a moment if that was what had done Sullice in... if he'd pushed himself too far and finally just wore out. Of course, Taar was probably in better shape and health, but it did serve as a warning, even if he hadn't. Once he had things under control he'd be certain to watch his health better, but for now he needed to be on top of every little thing.

Within an hour of arriving on board the Eclipse he hosted a meeting of the military high command. They needed to fill him in on the past, and he'd fill them in on the future. Some were there in person, most were there by hologram. Taar sat down at the head of the table. He looked at each face in turn... some he'd seen in his classroom years ago, others were only records he'd examined on his way here. There were a few of the political incompetents, but it looks like Sullice had done a good job of reassigning them or putting them on the front line and letting nature take its course. "As of this moment," he said at last, "the Empire is under the de facto control of the military. The military is under my control. I trust I don't need to fill in the blanks."

"Has the Imperial Senate approved this?" asked Admiral Cirule. It wasn't accusational; Taar remembered that even as a student, Cirule had always been thorough. He didn't make assumptions when it could be avoided, and he always waited on the intelligence reports before moving in unless it absolutely couldn't be delayed. Cirule had been a fair pilot... probably could have graduated, and wound up joining the legion of dead pilots the Empire had over the years, his potential wasted. Taar pushed him to transfer, although the boy had resisted at the time. There's a certain romance to being a fighter pilot, no doubt the result of holo-novels and overactive imaginations; they'd sent more than one substandard student into Taar's classroom. There was a good chance Cirule could be a strong ally for Taar, if the political situation turned ugly.

"The Senate is having difficulty achieving a quorum these days," Taar said, "nevermind a decision. We're in the wilderness again, gentlemen... and ladies." General Hnial and Admiral Pomier nodded; there had apparently been more headway for women than Taar had heard. So long as they did their job Taar didn't mind what was going on under their uniforms. "Survival is the issue at hand, and that's where our concern has got to lie. We are not going to win this war unless we make some changes, and that's a fact."

"We have had many successes in recent months," General Corbin remarked. "Respectfully, sir, things aren't as bad as you seem to paint them."

Corbin... Taar had read his file over. Not stupid by any means, but arrogant and ambitious. He took risks... sometimes they paid off, sometimes they didn't, but he had a lot of blood on his hands. He was the kind of officer who would disregard Taar's orders if he felt the need, which made him an uncertain element. Taar had made a note to keep him on a short leash. "Your opinion is noted, general," Taar said. "But since I'm running things now, it's my opinion that counts."

"I understand, sir," Corbin said. "I just thought you'd prefer to hear an opinion from someone who's been on the front lines." Unlike you. Corbin hadn't said the words, but Taar knew they were there.

"General Corbin," Taar said as he folded his hands and leaned forward on the table, "I'm an old man who has lost patience for bullshit. I'm not going to sit here and verbally fence with you in some ridiculous attempt to score points in a political game. The difference between you and me is: you want this job, but don't have it, and I have this job, but don't want it. If I thought there were the slightest chance you could pull this off I would gladly leave this entire mess in your hands and head back to Ralltiir to build model starships. Obviously, though, I am here, which is my assessment of your ability to handle this situation."

"If that's how you feel-" Corbin began, ignoring the slights in much the same way slime slides off a snail.

"It is," Taar cut in. "Fate and talent have brought you this far, general, be happy for that fact and do the job placed before you. There's a lot of work left ahead for those who keep their heads and don't waste their time posing for statues that may never be built." Before Corbin could compose a rebuttal Taar moved on. "Looking at the matter at hand. Our forces are stretched thin, with ships all over the galaxies trying to quell revolts and whatnot. This stops now. A message is going out across the Milky Way: you're either with us voluntarily, or you're on your own."

There were exchanged looks of confusion around the table. "Sir," General Hnial said, "I think that's why the systems are revolting."

"Exactly. So let them."

"Let systems leave the Empire?" Corbin replied.

"I see you're quick," Taar said. "Yes, enough of this death of a thousand cuts nonsense. These Milky Way powers are drawing our forces away from the front lines where we need them. If they want to try running themselves, then we'll let them have the chance."

"After all the work to conquer them, you'll just let them go?" Corbin said, not bothering to hide his outrage."

"No one in this room knows more than I do the price we paid for that galaxy," Taar pointed out. "But it is not worth losing this one over. So, we'll give the systems of the Milky Way one week. Anyone who wants out of the Empire need only say so, and it'll be done. After that, we'll withdraw most of our fleet here, to the front lines. With our full attention on the Vong we can end this conflict once and for all."

"The Milky Way is a hotbed," Cirule pointed out. "Some are already well armed. They might try attacking our remaining worlds there if we pull too many out."

"I realize that," Taar said. "That's why we have point number two: Pax Eclipsa. Captain Tyrine," he said, and the captain rose from his seat along the wall. "You've been promoted to admiral." Tyrine nodded in acknowledgement. "You'll be taking the Eclipse into the Milky Way to take command of a fleet I've formed from ships assigned throughout that galaxy. These are experienced captains... you’d be wise to heed their advice on local matters, but you’re going to be ultimately responsible. You will be enforcing the protection of our systems throughout the galaxy. If an independent system launches an attack against one of our worlds, you are authorized to destroy their planet, or planets if necessary. As soon as you take command you may fire the superlaser at your discretion until informed otherwise by the military command. The kid gloves are off, the brass knuckles are on."

"Understood, sir," Admiral Tyrine said.

"Now, the Delta Quadrant," Taar went on, as if every day he authorized entire worlds to be destroyed on whim. "There's a second Vong force in that part of the galaxy, yes?"

"Yes," Admiral Pomier said, "although they have been relatively quiet."

"I'm sure they are," Taar said. "Just like these Vong were quiet after their initial incursion into our galaxy. However, we can't afford to divert that much of our force to try and track them down. So, my order for the Milky Way will include an addition for certain sectors of the delta quadrant. If those worlds want to remain part of the Empire, they must contribute ten million credits, or fifty thousand conscripts. Mechanics, engineers, pilots, soldiers, I don't care, so long as we have manpower."

"I'm not sure many systems would agree to that," Admiral Pomier said.

"In the old days, Thrawn was able to wring a lot more out of them with the threat of the Borg," Taar said. "Most of them will give in. We'll use them to outfit a second army to face off against those Vong for the time being. And speaking of the Borg, they're going to be next on our list."

"You don't trust them," Cirule remarked. It wasn't a question; he'd attended Taar's lecture on the subject of the collective.

"Not an inch," Taar said. "Once we take care of the Vong, the Borg will be next, so don't get too chummy with them, and keep your eyes open. When they come, they won't give you any warnings."

"They're technically a corporation now," Admiral Rinuld said. "Although I suppose since the military is in control we can dissolve the company's legal rights, even prohibit trading with them."

"The thought crossed my mind," Taar admitted. "But that might provoke them, and I don't want that. I never thought I'd say this, but they're not as great a threat. First our Vong, then the Milky Way Vong, then the Borg, then we set out to restore the Empire. Enough with this juggling act, let's focus on a task, get the job done, and then move on. We can afford the luxury of rebuilding once we know we'll still have something to build with." He consulted his list. "Admrial Hune," he said, then looked up. "The Defiance is under your command, yes?" The Defiance was an Executor-class star destroyer, one of several stationed along the border with the Vong.

"Yes, sir," Hune replied.

"It's my new base of operations," Taar said matter-of-factly. "I want the ship prepped for transfer to my direct control. Don't worry, you'll be getting plenty more ships to make up the difference."

"Yes, sir," Hune said, but this time with less enthusiasm.

"Good. Now, I understand we've caught some empty coralskippers in our last few engagements. Someone want to fill me in?"

Corbin spoke up. "Coralskippers can be individually piloted, but whenever possible the Vong prefer to allow their war coordinator to handle them directly. It ensures finer control."

"I know; what I want to know is if that's your conclusion."

"It seems so," Corbin said. "And to anticipate your next question, there's been no sign of the Yun-Yammka. Either they no longer possess the means to create it or they don't want to risk losing another yammosk to our Jedi allies."

"That might change if we hit them as hard as I plan," Taar said. "Did we ever work out a defense against whatever the hell it was?"

Admiral Tyrine spoke up. "If I may, general. General Sullice had numerous experts brought in to examine the issue, including the Jedi. No one was able to devise any means of stopping it, short of killing the yammosk itself."

"Then that should be our top priority. If the Vong get desperate, they may bring out their ace in the hole. Any idea where the yammosk might be?"

"It could be anywhere, sir," Corbin said. "We don't even know for certain there is one; it's just a supposition."

"Well, supposing wrong isn't going to hurt us in this case," Taar said. "I want everyone to understand that any evidence for the location of the war coordinator comes to me, no matter how insignificant it might seem. We're going to smoke this squid out."

The meeting continued, getting down to the more mundane matters. There wasn't much that actually needed to be changed in their deployment; Sullice had been doing a masterful job in that regard right up to the end. A few additional items were addressed, and then they were dismissed. As the holograms winked out and the room emptied, Taar remained in his chair. When he was alone, he switched his datapad over to the second point of order, thought a moment, then took another stim, just to be on the safe side. Feeling the fog clear from his mind, he instructed the communications officer to set him up a high security connection with Chandrilla. Moments later, a small hologram of Volgo Terraine appeared on the table. They exchange a few brief pleasantries, then got down to business.

"The word is that you've set up a little military junta," Terraine remarked.

"You say that as if it were a bad thing," Taar said. "The Empire's held together by spit and bailing wire at the moment; a little junta is just what the doctor ordered."

"I think we'll find out," Terraine said. "But I take it you didn't contact me so we could discuss political theory. You want information."

"Yes, the Rodian inside Vong territory..."

"Borda," Terraine filled in.

"Borda. His forces have been able to get us information, yes?"

“That’s right.”

"His alliance of bush pilots and ex-mercs reminds me of someone..." Taar let the idea hang there a moment. "I remember a lifetime ago when the rebels were a royal pain in the behind that the Empire was constantly trying to swat down. Made life very difficult for us."

"I wouldn't know," Terraine said.

"But the rebels were well equipped," Taar said. "Would it be possible for us to funnel materials to Borda and his people? Without alerting the Vong, I mean."

"You're going to turn them into a fifth column force?"

"Why not? As I said, the Rebel Alliance certainly made the Empire's life miserable. It'd be nice if there was one to help us for a change by working against our enemies. After all, that's what wore us down in the first place, the enemies within our midst."

"I'm not sure how keen he'd take this news," Terraine said. "They like to run independently."

"Fine," Taar said. "So long as they fight the Vong and not us, they're free to do what they like. It'll give the Vong something else to think about."

"That's normally not a problem for the war coordinator," Terraine pointed out.

Taar snapped his fingers. "That reminds me; any lead on where their yammosk might be?"

"Nothing," Terraine said. "I can keep you updated on that if it changes, however."

"Please do." Taar consulted his list; there was only one point left, and a rather unpleasant one. "One other thing," he said. "I need to get in touch with Elim Garak. Can you arrange it?"

"Garak's in hiding and untouchable, believe me," Terraine said.

"I just need to talk with him, remotely if necessary. Can you find a way to do that?"

"I suppose if there was a reason a message might get to Garak to contact you. What for?"

"To negotiate the surrender," Taar said.

"I'm afraid you don't understand Garak," Terraine said with a chuckle. "So long as he breaths he will never surrender, no matter what."

"No, I'm afraid it's you that doesn't understand." Taar said. "I'm not asking for his surrender, I'm asking him to accept ours."

[Crazedwraith]

wow. Surrender? To Garak??

[darthdavid]

He he he Pax Eclipsa

[LordShaithis]

As soon as you take command you may fire the superlaser at your discretion until informed otherwise by the military command. The kid gloves are off, the brass knuckles are on.

w00t

[Sonnenburg]

On board the Defiance, an eleven-mile long monument to naked aggression, sat General Delric Taar, de facto ruler of the Empire. Within a matter of days the Empire had been transformed into a sleek killing machine by, as Taar viewed it, hacking off gangrenous limbs to stop the infection. The revolution was over, at least, it was almost over. There was one last item that had to be dealt with before the Vong were shown what this new Empire could do.

The holoprojector on the desk lit up, revealing one of the most well-known and despised individuals in either galaxy. His continued survival despite the best efforts of the Empire showed how skilled this master of hiding was. There were rumors that Garak would sometimes be missing from his cell, then turning up later, being so skilled at concealment that even the guards couldn't find him. Taar dismissed them as just rumors. He knew it was more likely that Garak had fabricated the rumors himself; why go to all the trouble of hoping for a good lie when you could create a better one? would be Garak's philosophy.

"Ah, general, it's been a long time since I've had the pleasure." Garak smiled, but then, Garak always smiled, much the same way that tigers do. "I do hope this is a legitimate discussion and not some foolhardy attempt to trace my location; my people are quite technically skilled."

Taar laid the datapad down on the table. "No, Mr. Garak, this isn't a trick. I want this matter settled."

"You mean your surrender," Garak said. "That's what I was informed would be the subject of our discussion; not that I mind chatting with you, of course. It's refreshing to deal with a mind as base as my own."

"Yes, Mr. Garak, this is it. You've won, we concede that. You proved a very worthy adversary, you confounded us countless times, and you weren't afraid to play dirty, were you? You attacked civilian targets, assassinated our people, and managed to orchestrate the death of the Emperor."

"Don't forget about Earth's moon," Garak said, holding up a finger and letting his smile widen.

"Well, I won't credit you for failed efforts," Taar said.

"Ah, you do have me there, I'm afraid." Garak shrugged. "Pity... it would have been a most effective example."

"Let's not deal with could have beens, Mr. Garak," Taar said. "You've won, let's get on with the terms." Garak started to speak but Taar interrupted. "I have a list here of what we're willing to concede. Amnesty for you, an official Imperial apology for the destruction of Cardassia Prime, and an allocation of territory that includes the eleven settled Cardassian systems in the alpha quadrant."

"That's a nice start," Garak said. "What about war reparations? Say, one hundred million credits? Not enough to put any kind of crimp in the Imperial budget, but more than enough to jump start our economy."

"Thirty million," Taar said. "And you get to keep the Imperial equipment and facilities."

"Thirty-five, and a five year guarantee that the Empire won't impose tariffs on our goods."

"Done," Taar said. "You find the terms satisfactory?"

"Indeed," Garak said, "and I'm more than happy to accept the Empire's gracious surrender." Garak's voice could have left an oil slick. "I take it you have a few conditions of your own?"

"Nothing really," Taar said. "Cease and desist all hostilities, a guarantee you won't encourage further revolt within our territory, nothing to worry about."

"That's acceptable," Garak said.

"Good." Taar picked up his datapad, then snapped his fingers as if he'd forgotten something. "Oh yes, one other thing. Any Cardassian terrorist attack on our territory will be taken as a declaration of war, yes?"

"I will do my best to rein my people in," Garak said.

Taar tossed the datapad on the desk and looked up at Garak. That look had sent a chill up the spine of many a student, and Taar had spent years perfecting it. "I didn't ask for your best," he said in a voice like cracking glaciers. "Total cessation of Cardassian terrorism."

"I'm afraid that may not be possible."

"Try not to be afraid, Garak, it's unbecoming in a terrorist."

"You have a singular wit, general," Garak said. "But I'm afraid I can't speak for all of my people, or keep them under control."

"Well, it's funny you mention that," Taar said. "You might not have heard it, but I've placed Milky Way defense under the control of Admiral Tyrine. He's basically autonomous, able to handle assaults on the Empire in whatever manner he deems fit. Of course, he's been fighting in the front lines against the Vong for years now, so he probably doesn't think too politically... I doubt tariffs are going to be forefront on his mind." He sipped at his drink. "He'll probably be inclined to use the Eclipse I've given him."

Garak's expression hadn't changed at all; he'd also had a long time to develop it. "I really have to hand it to you Imperials. In the same conversation you offer apologies for blowing up our planet while simultaneously threatening to do it again. Quite a fascinating bit of schizophrenia."

"What, are you going to pretend to have the moral high ground here?" Taar asked. "After all the suffering your organization has caused?"

"Well, attempted genocide does tend to bring out the worst in people," Garak said. "Did you expect us to send you a thank you card?"

"The man who made that decision is dead; you've seen to that."

"That won't erase the crime," Garak said. "It won't bring back my Cardassia."

"No, but when you put it that way, what would?" Taar steepled his fingers, which looks even better when you have hands as gnarled as age had made his. "Even if you killed every last one of us, it won't bring back a dead world. However, if you try, you'll have plenty more on your hands."

The remark must have really gotten to him because there was a noticeable flicker in Garak's expression. "As I said, I have to hand it to the Empire."

Taar looked stonefaced over his fingers at Garak. "We can fight dirty too." The conversation continued without words as the two men stared at one another. "We're tired of fighting you, Garak. You're getting everything we can give you, provided you leave us alone. If you don't, then I will show you how dirty we can fight." He leaned forward, and his voice was full of menace. "I will exterminate your kind. My every waking thought will be devoted to hunting down and killing every last Cardassian. Even if it means letting Vong overrun Chandrilla itself, I'll put more men and ships towards ferreting out the last of your kind. You wanted our attention, Mr. Garak, you've got it, and if I were you, I'd gather up your operatives, return to Cardassian space, and hide in the hopes that we forget all about you."

Garak was quiet, his smile was gone, but Taar could still see the wheels turning below. In Taar's experience, Cardassians were a prideful species, but Garak never allowed that to interfere with what needed to be said or done. There was that reptilian patience about him... he could be conspiring against Taar, or simply deciding how he could use this to land on his feet. "Very well, general. Your terms are acceptable. If there's nothing else, I can see I'm going to have a lot of work to do." The hologram vanished.

Taar leaned back in his chair and set his feet up on the desk. He'd have gone as high as fifty million; Garak must've underestimated the amount of damage he was causing.

Amnesty for Garak... that would be the hardest part for the Imperial citizenry to swallow. But Garak was old, even for a Cardassian; time would render its final judgment on him soon enough, and the point was to allow them to focus on the important matters. Garak was a little problem, the holograms were a little problem, the Klingons were a little problem, and all together they added up to a big problem. However, the Vong were a big problem all by themselves, so that by worrying about the sum total of little problems that one had grown into a threat to the Empire's very existence. It should have been over from the get-go; the Empire had the military might and the critical resources to mop the floor with the Vong. Instead, it had been like a Wookiee that was too concerned with a swarm of angry bees to pay attention to the man coming up with a club. Garak was a very persistent hornet, and he liked to go for the eyes.

Garak probably knew how far Taar could be pushed, but he'd be cautious. He also knew that in his crazed rant was the truth that the Empire would use every tool it had, up to and including a planet-busting weapon. They'd turn their attention back to the Cardassians eventually, and Garak probably suspected they would, but there wasn't much that could be done without risking far more than he'd ever allowed. Thrawn wouldn't have allowed it; he'd have drawn Garak out and killed him within the first month, but now the man had introduced a cancer that was beyond even his own control. Still, Taar knew that the best way to rein them in was to sic the man who trained them on their tail.

Taar consulted his datapad. What else was there? Oh yes... he'd almost forgotten. He leaned over and flipped the comm on the table. "Admiral, instruct the tenth fleet to mobilize." There was a reply of affirmation and Taar switched it off. Hopefully that would be sufficient distraction for Terraine.
--------------------------------------------------------------

The Sith had emerged into the light just long enough to snare the Empress, and with their task done, returned to their hiding places within the unsettled worlds. The Empire, even in its collapse, was massive in scope, yet settlements –especially in the Milky Way– were sparse. The Oracle knew where to hide from unwanted eyes, working like a slow poison even as the body crippled and died from it. Taar’s desperate amputation was foreseen... was counted on. The Vong was his only focus, his obsession; all others were of no importance. None but the Jedi now sought out the hiding place of the Sith... except one.

Ben Skywalker awoke every day to misery. It was not because of the Oracle. Little had changed in her manner since the battle with the Empress, except that she had done away with the pretense. Ben knew who was the master, and who was the mere servant, and in retrospect it was obvious he always had been. He ran her errands, cutting down her enemies, advancing her plans, all under the mistaken belief it was to restore his own lost power. She’d manipulated him, and not just with words... For all his power, he was weak. And there, every morning, he awoke to the hand. Mechanical, lifeless, and a fraud just like him. I am the price of weakness, it seemed to say. I am the price of baseless arrogance. The failure with Sebastian had been a horrible personal embarrassment, but at least he had taken satisfaction in knowing that it was only by Ben Sisko’s trickery that the half-breed still lived. What was his excuse with Leia, whom he’d bested easily in his own realm? He lived now only because she allowed it... he lived now only because she rejected the Dark Side, a most depressing fact to say the least. If she could beat him in the light, then what did that say about the basic truth that the darkness was stronger? But clinging to that truth then left only one logical conclusion: he must be far weaker than he’d imagined.

It’s not real, he told himself bitterly when he looked at his hand. They said you couldn’t feel the difference, but Ben could. He’d done this to Jedi dozens, perhaps hundreds, of times, although they rarely lived long enough to need a prosthetic. For the others, he’d always enjoyed the thought. He’d imagined them staring at the mechanical imitation of a hand or a foot, and know that somewhere out there, Ben Skywalker was plotting and preparing... that eventually he would come and finish what had been delayed. And he’d always come...

Sometimes, on the cusp of waking and sleeping, when the mind is unsure of the real and the unreal, Ben thought he could hear them all laughing.

There was a summoning from the Oracle, and grudgingly Ben answered it. She was in her laboratory, overcrowded with her equipment, watching various images from throughout the galaxies being played out on display screens around the room. She stood amongst them, tapping her lips thoughtfully as her eyes flickered over them. She seemed engrossed in them... perhaps he could kill her now, before she had time to react. He quickly dismissed the thought just as he had all the times before. She did nothing to hide the power now... unnatural power. Ben could sense it, the impurity within the taint... it was neither science nor Force, but a perverted combination of both. Sith sourcery. A dead art, but what matter is that to someone who can manipulate time and cross dimensions? Ben could only wildly speculate as to how it had gone, how much of it was raw talent and how much was twisting herself using the foul arts. But her hatred for the Empire... that must have given her power. And yet, now that the veil was removed and the crippled old witch revealed as a true Sith master, he could still sense that it all was in the service of that hate, and what a hate it was. Darth Bane himself would no doubt have commented on its intensity, and the Oracle tended to it like a meticulous gardener, fostering and shaping it to further the final end. He could sense that her only regret had been not being able to kill Palpatine herself and shattering Coruscant at her own command. But she would topple the Empire, and that was a feat that would dwarf both those acts.

“Your failure has had unanticipated consequences,” she finally said to him, her eyes never stopping their pursuit.

“I am sorry, my master,” Ben said. Pride had made the words difficult, but self-preservation, which had spent years being neglected, had lately been quite good at pushing it around.

The displays flickered as they changed, and Ben saw the same woman from dozens of different points of view. He didn’t recognize her at first, but the Oracle filled him in. “Seven of Nine,” she said, “should have perished from the disease. Now she’s out wandering the galaxy.”

Ben put it together. The cyborg wife of his father in this universe. “Yes, master. But, as you said, one person is not going to make a great difference.”

The Oracle glared at him, and Ben swallowed despite himself. He thought he saw a flame swirl in her eyes a moment before she spoke. “This one person completely upset the balance of power across the entire galaxy. And she now seeks us out.”

“We are well hidden, master.”

“Seven was always far too resourceful,” the Oracle said. “There was a reason she was to be eliminated.”

“She isn’t even a Jedi.”

“She has killed Sith,” the Oracle said sharply. “Would you lightly dismiss anyone who could face Mara Jade in personal combat and defeat her?”

A chill passed through Ben at the mention of the name. “You wish me to kill her?” he finally asked.

“No,” the Oracle said. “As I said, she’s very resourceful, and I would not have a duplication of the disaster that led to this complication.”

Bringing up his failure wasn’t the worst part for Ben, it was the fact that she brought it up merely as a justification for her plan, as if she considered Ben an unreliable lackey. Ben Skywalker, who had scoured the Jedi from the face of a galaxy, deemed unworthy to kill one woman who couldn’t even wield the Force. “Then what would you have me do, master?”

“She wishes to find me,” the Oracle said. “Bring her here, and I will decide her fate. If she can be persuaded to help me in my cause, she will prove an invaluable ally, and if not, then I shall correct history. Either way, it will be dealt with, and we can leave this deviation behind us.”

“Yes, master,” Ben said, and turned to leave.

“Remember,” the Oracle said, “alive. Do not attempt to redeem yourself by trying to kill her; I will be most dissatisfied if you do.”

“Of course, master.” And Ben left to fulfill another of the Oracle’s errands.

[darthdavid]

Awsome.

[LordShaithis]

So hopefully Janeway will explain to Seven how she became a goddamn Sith, because I really want to know...

Voyager would have been much more interesting with this Janeway aboard, methinks.

[Crazedwraith]

Very good. Poor Ben, dark side not as strong as you thought?

[Prozac the Robert]

I like.

It's a nice christmas present, thanks.

[Chris OFarrell]

Voyager would have been much more interesting with this Janeway aboard, methinks.

All hail the Ship of the Damned!

[phongn]

All hail the Ship of the Damned!

You forgot the reference to gangrene

[Chris OFarrell]

All hail the Ship of the Damned!

You forgot the reference to gangrene

That comes later

[2000AD]

Voyager would have been much more interesting with this Janeway aboard, methinks.

All hail the Ship of the Damned!

Now i'm wondering what happened to the ship that left at the end of Against all Odds (IIRC), the one with R2 and C3-PO on.

[Stuart Mackey]

Voyager would have been much more interesting with this Janeway aboard, methinks.

All hail the Ship of the Damned!

Now i'm wondering what happened to the ship that left at the end of Against all Odds (IIRC), the one with R2 and C3-PO on.

Star Trekking across the universe, always going forward cause they cant find reverse!

[Sonnenburg]

Across the long stretches of the galaxy, over distances where even light itself could not travel within a man's lifetime, imaginary lines were drawn. Out here, with no solid mater to create boundaries, mathematics chopped the galaxy into more manageable chunks, assigning names and numbers to gas and dust and vacuum. Beings fought and died throughout them to wrest control of the numbers from the other side. It was cold mathematics that decided where blood would be spilled and flesh turned to ash.

The Tenth Fleet was spread across one hundred twenty sectors and consisted of two thousand warships plus their escorts. On order from General Taar, they advanced. It was a chaotic affair, as space is a three-dimensional thing and thus moving in a plane is not going to be successful in repelling opposing forces a mere light-year above or below the advance. Ships slipped from position to position, reinforcing some areas and metaphorically digging in at others, and here and there running across Vong warships. Star Destroyer and coralship met in space and exchanged planet-scorching weaponry until only debris remained. It wasn't a particularly important advance; it increased the pressure on Vong forces to be sure, but its true purpose lay in the chaos of the dance. Ships slipped here and there, but within it, more and more broke away from the fleet escort. They were snub fighters mostly, not something worth noting in small numbers. They made their way through the lines to different destinations within Vong space, careful to stay spread out from the others to avoid attracting attention.

Along with two A-Wings sped the Millennium Falcon, its notorious owner at the controls as they settled in for a landing on a deserted planet. Almost another dozen ships had already arrived and were being inspected by Borda's men. The Falcon had come full circle now, from cargo vessel to combat fighter to explorer and back again. Han and Kilana left them to unload the parts and equipment they'd brought and found Borda himself speaking with one of his Rodian cronies. Han caught some of it, but they seemed reluctant to talk in front of him. "[Excuse me a moment,]" he said to Han as he went to address a small huddle of arguing beings nearby.

"No problems with the plan," Han informed the remaining Rodian. "The Vong showed no sign of tracking us."

"[Let us hope not,]" the Rodian remarked. "[I find this entire affair ill-advised.]"

"What's he saying?" Kilana asked.

Han tried not to glare at her, but her antics ever since signing on had driven him up the wall. She spoke no languages the universal translator couldn't handle, she had no piloting experience at all, and she displayed all the mechanical aptitude of a Luddite.

"[Your companion doesn't seem very bright.]"

"I'm afraid you might be right," Han said.

"[She looks like a prostitute,]" the Rodian remarked. "[Is that why Taar sent her?]"

It was an uncalled for statement, but unfortunately it also was a fairly correct assessment. "She's had some experience-"

"He's asking about me?" Kilana interrupted.

"Y-es," Han said, wondering how best to continue the discussion without it blowing up. Then Kilana turned to the Rodian.

"What you're doing here is a great thing," she said, "and I'll provide whatever service I can to aid you in your struggle." Han bit his lip to hold back the smile. "I'm not afraid of getting a little dirty if that's what it takes." Han bit harder.

The Rodian stared at Kilana a moment, then turned back to Han. "[I take it back; this was a great idea.]"

"Don't get your hopes up," Han told him, then took Kilana's hand and led her towards Borda. "If you're not going to learn the language," he said in a low tone, "don't try to speak."

"I just want him to know I'm eager," Kilana said, sounding wounded.

"No problem there," Han remarked. Borda had just dismissed the grumbling mob and turned his attention to Han. "Sorry for the intrusion, general."

"[I don't know if I care for that title,]" Borda remarked. "[Or of being a pawn of the Empire.]"

"I've spoken with Volgo Terraine on this and he assures me that you will remain completely autonomous," Han said. "General Taar just wants your alliance to be well-supplied."

"[With thirty-year old fighters?]" Borda asked.

"It's the easiest to smuggle in-" Han began, but Borda waved his reply away.

"[We have few fighters that are superior,]" Borda admitted. "[But the Empire seems to feel we should be transformed into a military unit; we are civilians.]"

"But you've been fighting a war," Han pointed out. "I've heard of what you've had to train your people to do. Taar may have his head up in the clouds, but he is right that you're pretty much like the Rebel Alliance was in the old days."

"[This would be the rebellion to overthrow the Empire?]" Borda asked. "[You see my hesitation to follow in their footsteps.]"

"Point taken," Han said. "Look, the ships, the equipment, it's all yours to do with as you like. Leave it here to rust if that suits you. But like it or not, you're an alliance rebelling against the dominant force in this part of the galaxy. If I were in your position, I'd let them have it with everything I could get my hands on."

Borda's face was unreadable. "[And you did,]" Borda said. "[I'm more inclined to listen to people who back up their talk with actions. But we are not Imperial pawns to be sacrificed; I fear the Empire will sell us out to the Vong if they think it could bring them victory.]"

Han took Borda away from prying ears and spoke in a low voice. "I wish I could offer you some guarantees, Borda," Han said. "A while ago I could have offered some, but that's changed now. Everything's falling apart, and I'm just a man who's not so young any more trying to hold it back because it keeps getting into my house and taking my family away from me."

"[You haven't started taking this war personally, have you?]"

"A smart woman I know once told me that when it comes to family, it doesn't get any more personal." Han shook his head a little. "They took my boy, then my wife, and I know the rest are in danger. So I'm doing whatever I can to stop it now, even if it means being stuck with her," he jerked a thumb back at Kilana, "to try and make it right."

Borda looked over Han's shoulder at the Vorta, then back at Han. "[You're an older gentleman being escorted around by a beautiful young woman, all alone in your big ship... your sacrifice is an inspiration.]"

"It's not like that," Han said sharply.

"[That's disappointing to hear,]" Borda said.

Han sighed. "I get the feeling I'm not going to be taken seriously so long as I've got her tagging along."

"[Then why did you take her along?]" Borda asked.

Han looked back at her, then shrugged. "I don't know... but not because of what you think. May seem old fashioned, but I stick to members of my own species when it comes to romance."

"[What other possible use can she serve?]" Borda asked. "[I mean no disrespect; forty percent of my operatives of females of various species, but they all have some kind of useful skills. What can she do?]"

"I don't know," Han admitted. "She's eager and optimistic; reminds me of a scruffy-headed kid I knew a long time ago who went on to do some great things." When he spoke next, it was mostly to himself. "Maybe I'm trying to make up for not forgiving him when I had the chance."

"[Hmm,]" Borda said. "[Well, good luck to you in your endeavors. I hope ours can have a small amount as well.]"

"Thanks, but I didn't just come out here to deliver supplies and let you oggle my companion," Han said. He handed Borda a datapad. "I was told you might have some information on this shipment. We've come a long way hoping that was correct."

Borda examined the datapad. "[Let me consult with my people,]" Borda said, then walked off. Kilana strolled up, then stood beside Han. She seemed to be scanning the edge of the clearing while she spoke.

"Vorta have excellent hearing," she said.

Han closed his eyes and a small sound escaped his throat, like you might make when you know a bridge below you is about to dump you into a lake of sewerage. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I speak Huttese," she remarked.

Han nodded, then quickly turned to stare at her. "Then why-"

"If someone thinks you are stupid and don't speak the language," Kilana said, "they'll let their guard down, underestimate you. The Orion Syndicate used me for more than just a pleasure tool... I extracted information. You'd be amazed what people will say to a stupid pretty girl." She turned to him and gave him the most vacant look he'd ever seen, with a grin like someone had just knocked her silly. "It's not like we'll remember any of it." The expression left. "Oh, by the way, that was Leedo, very important man in Borda's operation, but doesn't approve of the involvement with the Empire. I took the liberty of borrowing his code cylinder if you want to check his records."

Han suppressed a smile. "I take back everything I said," he remarked as he felt it slip easily into his pocket like the old days before he became respectable. She had a practiced hand, he could tell, and being partnered with a criminal suddenly seemed very useful. "But I wouldn't try something like that again while we're here."

"Not to worry," Kilana said. "After what happened he'd be too embarrassed to even suspect I could fool him. Did Borda fill you in?"

"He's looking it over now," Han said. "Hopefully he's got something, otherwise I don't think we've got any leads left."

"[Mr. Solo,]" Borda said coming back, "[we did track the shipment you asked about. My scouts on Iebron noted it six months ago. The information is all here,]" he passed the datapad back to Han.

Han glanced at it, then did a double-take. "Are you sure this is right?" he asked, his voice edged with steel.

"[There was no mistake,]" Borda said.

Han nodded grimly. "Thanks for your help," he said, then walked double-time back to the Falcon, Kilana rushing to catch up.

"What is it?" she asked.

"We're leaving," Han said.

"So I gathered," Kilana said. "Why?"

"The equipment the Vong got from the Nom Anor," Han said, "there's only one thing you can do with it."

"And what's that?"

Han ground his teeth as he stormed up the ramp. "Carbon-freezing."
--------------------------------------------------------------

The Cardassian shuttle set down in the docking bay of the Sith world; no one met them, but Garak had the codes for landing, naturally. This entire affair had been financed by his efforts, a wise investment to be sure. The Oracle had been Garak's edge throughout his campaign, but all things had to come to an end. With him were twenty of his best operatives, skilled men in a fight; not that he'd need them of course, but it was always nice to have an armed man in the background. The true danger, Ben Skywalker, was gone for the time being; Garak had been waiting for just such an opportunity.

As expected, the Oracle was in her laboratory, a myriad of events being played out on the displays around the room. At the moment, however, she was completing a chemical concoction that Garak didn't really want to know about. "Oracle," he said, trying to get her attention.

"Some things cannot be halted," she remarked, still looking at the swirling liquid. It glowed faintly blue.

"This won't take long," Garak said, but paused as he watched her fill the hypospray with the liquid. "What is that?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"A key, Mr. Garak," the Oracle said. "A key to things you cannot imagine." She held it to her neck and the hypospray discharged. It fell from her trembling fingers and she half-gagged, half-choked. Her eyes opened, and for a second they glowed yellow, then blue, then returned to normal.

"I see," Garak said, grateful that the madness of the Oracle wasn't going to be his problem any longer. "Speaking of keys, I'm afraid I have some rather bad news for you. I'm afraid we're going to have lock down your operation."

The Oracle got back to her feet and went about her business as if he wasn't even there. "That's quite impossible," she said. "My work is not yet finished."

"I realize this may come as a bit of a shock," Garak began.

"Nothing comes as a shock, Mr. Garak," the Oracle remarked. "Did you think that I didn't know you were speaking with General Taar?" She did nothing Garak could see, but nonetheless the displays flipped and showed both Garak and Taar discussing the terms of surrender; neither was a hologram.

"How did you - How did you do that?" Garak asked. There were angles from which it was impossible for a recorder to be hidden, and he took daily pains to ensure not one, not to mention the seven or so he saw before him, would be present. He also couldn't imagine Taar's office having such security failings.

"You have no idea what has been unleashed," the Oracle said. "Did you truly think that all of this was for your benefit? That I would devote my life to fulfilling your limited vision? Mr. Garak, you have been funding the means to do far more than merely rebuild a broken people, you will have helped me build a new galaxy."

Garak looked from display to display. It wasn't possible, but here the proof was, right before him. He turned back to the Oracle. "I'm not really interested in your madness any more, Janeway. As you can see, the Empire is giving us what we want, and all they want is for us to leave them be. I don't see that as being too unreasonable."

"The Empire will fall," she told him, and her eyes seemed to flash again. "You cannot negotiate with them on this, Garak. You must see this through to the end."

"This is the end," Garak said. "The Empire insists that none of my operations can continue to oppose them, and I cannot take the risk of your antics being traced back to me. The Sith are one thing, but your operations will have to be stopped."

"No, Garak," the Oracle said in a voice like a quiet rebuke, "nothing stops. This war is not over yet."

"Janeway-"

"Oracle," she interrupted. "I see what you can't see, hear the voices you won't listen to."

"Yes, I'm not surprised," Garak remarked in all honesty. "Now listen, I did not bring these guards along for show-"

"Yes, you did," the Oracle said. "But you're not afraid to use them."

"That's right," Garak said. "Now, we can end this without me having to kill you. Given all your aid, that is something I'd rather do. There may be a place in the new Cardassia for you if you come with us."

"No, Garak. You are a small man with small dreams, and I've no more time to humor you."

The displays changed, and now it was Garak talking to Calrissian. "You can't back out now-" "You're in too deep at this point-" "There's no way out-" "You can't hide our connection any longer on your own-" "I own you now-" "My cause is your cause now-" "It ends when I say it ends-"

"Very amusing trick," Garak said. "But this is getting tiring, Oracle. Cooperate, and-" There was a sound like someone popping steel popcorn, and Garak saw the power packs ejecting from all the blaster rifles his men had. Garak's phaser flew from his grip into the Oracle's outstretched hand even as the lights vanished.

Then there was a sound like the grounding of a reactor as ten lightsabers lit in the darkness. Garak reacted, but felt himself being thrown across the room into a wall. As he struggled he could see the lights dance and hear the screams. It lasted for seconds, then the lightsabers winked out, and he was left pinned to the wall. His breathing seemed terribly loud in his ears, and he felt completely blind and helpless.

"You will return to Cardassian space," the Oracle said out of the darkness. "You will continue to provide whatever funds and equipment I demand of you. You will not assist our enemies. If you attempt to disobey me, then I will ensure the destruction of your worlds." Garak's breath froze in his chest as he saw the Oracle's eyes glowing in the darkness. "The Sith spared your life, Garak. It belongs to us now. Defy us, and you will lose far more."

Garak nodded. "But my people... Taar said-"

"Do not fear that old soldier," the Oracle said. "His threats are of no importance, because soon both he and his Empire will perish. I've already set it in motion."

[darthdavid]

That was great.

[LordShaithis]

Captain Janeway as the head of a revived Sith Order. And even more strangely, it owns.

[Crazedwraith]

Aw Delicous Irony. Poor Garak.

[Sonnenburg]

Kilana flipped through the displays to get exterior shots of the facility. It was well guarded, with Vong forces everywhere. Han had managed to evade their sensors when he came in for a landing, but from the looks of things, it had all been in vain. "Han, this is crazy," she remarked.

"I get that a lot," Han said from the next room.

"You'd need an army to get into this place," she said, pressing on. "There's no way you can sneak past these guys. Whatever's down there, they don't want anyone getting to it."

"That's why we're going to get to it," Han answered.

"Listen," she said, getting up and coming into the next room, "I'll follow you anywhere, don't misunderstand, but this is going to be impossible."

"I get that a lot too," Han remarked as he lay on the floor modifying some piece of equipment from underneath.

"Do you want to get killed?" she asked, hands on her hips. "Is that what this is about?" She stopped. "That's it, isn't it. This is a suicide run."

"Bite your tongue," Han said.

"It is. It's because of what happened to your wife-"

Han wasn't old, although he obviously wasn't as young as he used to be. His body protested regularly with things that used to be second nature, and he was tired out so easily these days. But in that moment, he might as well have been twenty again as he pulled himself out and hopped to his feet, coming at Kilana so fast she backed into the wall. He stood before her, gesturing with the tool in a way that wasn't threatening, but the subtext was that it could be. "Never bring up my wife," he whispered in a voice that could cut glass. "Never!"

Kilana's eyes flicked between Han's face and the tool. "I meant no offense," she remarked.

Han stood there a few seconds longer, then lowered the tool. "Good," he said, but he had a smile on his face that obviously meant it wasn't. Only Han could smile like that, she thought; it was as cheerful as burning up on re-entry. He crawled back under the device and got back to work. "This isn't a suicide run; it's a rescue. Can't rescue anyone if you're dead, trust me on that. I've been rescuing people for so long I sometimes feel like printing up business cards."

"So," Kilana said, "if not a suicide run, then I hope you have a plan."

"Of course... you think I'm making this up as I go?"

"It seems your modus operandi."

"Hey, keep anatomy out of it," Han said. Then he slid out enough and winked. "Always said I'd never use one of these, but you're right, there's no way we're breaking into this place using any of the stuff I learned."

"What is it?" Kilana asked.

Han shook his head. "An abomination." He connected it to the console on the wall. "But I'm not too picky about the company I keep these days." He gave her another wink. "It's a transporter, a very primitive one."

"That just filled me with confidence," Kilana said, now looking at the device with quiet horror.

"Got it from Borda's people," Han said. "Nice for certain nefarious activities when you'll need to get out in a hurry."

"Don't you have a real transporter on this thing?" Kilana asked.

"Never saw the need," Han said. "And I don't particularly like them. Besides, the Falcon's got enough stuff jury-rigged into it, trying to add all that stuff in is liable to make the toilet flush every time I try to go to lightspeed."

"So instead, we're stuck with some piece of criminal equipment you've jury-rigged into the system. Did it even come with a manual?"

"Course it did," Han snapped. "Even read some of it." Han grabbed an untouched nectarine left over from lunch and placed it on the pad. "This should be no problem. I'll try beaming it back to the bowl."

"Should I get a blast shield?" Kilana asked.

"Ha-ha," Han said. "We'll see who's laughing in a second." He activated the controls and the nectarine faded out with twinkling lights. A moment later it appeared again at the bowl, at least, something did. It was black and shiny and pulsated violently before its skin ruptured like a pustule and sprayed some foul amber liquid into the air.

"Han," Kilana said, eyes wide in horror as she stared, "I'm not laughing. I'm definitely not laughing."

Han nodded wordlessly next to her. "I think I saw that manual around here somewhere." They flinched as the nectarine spat at them. "Why don't you get something and clean that up."

"I think I'd rather fight the Vong," Kilana said.

"I'll get it working safely," Han said.

"I'm talking about the thing," Kilana said. "I think it's staring at me."

"Nonsense, see, it's disintegrating." Even as he spoke it began shriveling up, leaking green froth as it did so.

"Oh my," Kilana said, trying not to gag as she cleaned it up. "For the first time I wish I was back on Ferenginar. Even the hutts weren't this nasty." There was a clatter as Han dropped the datapad. "What?"

"Nothng," Han said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Nothing scouring the inside of my skull won't cure." He picked up the datapad.

"I served them lunch once, you kriffing degenerate," Kilana said, tossing the mess into the disposal. "Let me know when you have this death trap fixed; I want to wash the stink off me." Han grunted as she left, then got back to work.
--------------------------------------------------------------

"Instruct the guards to wait outside."

Senator Alixus froze and her bodyguards began going for their weapons, but familiarity kept her mind sharp. "Do as he says," she said quickly. "I have nothing to fear." Hands still on their weapons, the guards looked about the darkness of the senator's apartment for a few seconds before grudgingly slipping back into the garden. The door sealed behind them without Alixus even reaching for the controls.

"Good," the Sith said as he stepped from the shadows enough so that Alixus could make him out. "I've grown tired of killing trash."

"Can we please get on with your business?" Alixus said. Familiarity had also suppressed her fear. The Sith saw a need for her, which made her valuable and therefore not someone he'd kill without a good reason. Of course, the question was what end they were being directed towards. Was this Sith really with them, or was he setting them up for their own destruction, trying to earn trust so he could stab them in the back later? There was no way to be certain yet, so caution was the centermost thought on Alixus' mind.

"I've come with information for the Vong," the Sith said. "Information vital to their survival; life or death will depend upon this, so listen carefully."

"I will," Alixus said, although she maintained a skeptic’s perspective.

"The newly-formed rebel alliance will soon discover the hiding place of the war coordinator on Mi-noss," the Sith said. "It is too late to stop them. They will, however, present an opportunity the Vong can exploit."

"And what is that?" Alixus asked, wondering if she could trust this information.

"They will pass this information along to General Taar, the one who holds your Empire in such a tight fist, and who may have the strength to use that fist to smash the Vong forces, if some way is not found to stop him. He is clever, but he's out of practice, relying on old instincts to get him through these early days, and his instincts are where he is weakened."

"The Borg," Alixus said knowingly. His opinion for them was well-known, and whatever else you could say about the man, Alixus had to at least agree with him on that principle. The Borg were the antithesis of everything she believed in, stripping humanity of its strength and replacing it with synthetics, reducing the noble human spirit to autonomy. She'd fought to repeal their standings, but so far the Imperial Senate resisted her efforts. The Senate had little real power anyway, but they could cause havoc for this despised collective if properly controlled.

"It stems from the Borg," the Sith said. "General Taar fears and hates that which he cannot resist. Vong ships and soldiers... this is understandable to him, he knows how to fight them. But the Yun-Yammka... how does a man who relies on energy weapons and machinery resist something like that?"

"The Jedi can fight it," Alixus pointed out. "That's why the Vong have not employed it."

"Yes, yes, but when news reaches him that the yammosk has been found on Mi-noss, do you think a man like Taar will pass this off to the Jedi to handle? He will hit the planet with every ship he can muster, to overwhelm the defenses and thoroughly annihilate the world. He will overcommit, because his fear will not allow him to take the risk of failure."

"How do you know this?" Alixus finally asked. "You come to me with plots and plans based upon things you couldn't possibly have learned-"

"It is unimportant; it matters only that it is. If you choose to ignore my warnings, then Taar will deal a severe blow to the Vong forces in this galaxy. With the death of the yammosk your ships will be once again thrown into confusion, the ships and beasts under its direct control will be left without direction. The Empire will press the advantage, and it will be the beginning of the end for the Vong." He paused, giving her time to think on it. "But," he said slowly, "if the Vong ambush the Empire at Mi-noss, destroy their forces and General Taar, then the Empire will be in no position to resist. There will be no one left to stop the splintering, and no one part will be able to resist the might of the Vong's army. This entire war will turn on Mi-noss, senator, but only you can decide which way it will turn."

"Yes," Alixus said with a nod. "Which is why I am left to wonder why you would tell us this? Do the Sith stand with us, or do you hope us to weaken the Empire, that you might remove them and take its place?"

"The Sith have always stood on the principle of strength and passion," the Sith answered. "We are alike in our goal."

"Yet you use technology," Alixus said, pointing towards the lightsaber. "You use it as a crutch to-" She was cut off as she felt a hand grip her throat and lift her off the floor... except there was no hand. She hung in the air, choking as the Sith answered.

"I will not defend myself to the likes of you," he said in a voice like a saw cutting through bone. With a gesture the invisible hand vanished and she dropped back to the floor. "The Vong have been forewarned," he said as she lay sprawled on the floor, coughing as she rubbed her throat. "Do what you will, but my part is done. I have other matters on Chandrilla that require my attention." Before Alixus could even get to her feet, he was already gone.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Kilana was lying down in the main room of the Falcon; not sleeping, just staring at the ceiling, thinking. Introspection didn't come naturally to a Vorta because the Founders provided all the truths that were necessary. Even on Ferenginar she'd believed that her work, even when it was the most demeaning and horrible, was to their good, was part of their plan. There was no need to find wisdom in the plans of the Founders, she merely had to trust that there was some. With the crashing down of her world in the wake of Sebastian's revelation, and later, when the Founder had spoken with her, she'd found herself more and more questioning why things had to be the way they are. She also wondered about herself. Was her desire to participate in this war motivated by genetically programmed instincts to restore order or from a personal desire to stop the kinds of horrible things she'd witnessed. She sat up as Han came slowly into the room. "You couldn't fix it?" she asked, judging from his mannerisms.

"No, I got it," Han said. He tossed a nectarine in the air and caught it, then took a bite out of it. "No problems."

"Then what's wrong?" Kilana asked. "You look like you just got audited."

"Audited?"

"On Ferenginar, there were few worse things that could happen," Kilana said. "What's wrong?"

"Even with the Falcon's computer, it's still a tricky business. I'd hoped to operate it remotely, but I can't risk it. One of us has to stay up here."

"I take it you mean you," Kilana said.

Han walked over and slumped down into a chair. "You have no technical experience, right?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Yes," Han said. "Okay, let's get back to Borda."

"Wait," Kilana said, swinging her legs around and leaning towards him, "what do you mean."

"I can't send you down there alone," Han said. "It's too dangerous."

"But you'd send you down there all alone," Kilana said.

"Like I said, I'm a professional, I know what I'm doing."

"You're an arrogant jerk," Kilana said. "Who are you to decide whether something is too dangerous for me?"

"I'm someone with a lifetime’s experience of fighting, infiltrating, and just plain nasty behavior," Han said. "And you aren't ready for this."

"Did I say arrogant? I thoroughly underestimated you."

Han got to his feet and came towards her. "You don't know what it's going to be like down there," he said with a rumble in his voice. "Those Vong don't play around. What are you going to do if they find you, huh?" Han looked confused for a moment, then the white ball hit him in the chest and knocked him against the wall. When he opened his eyes, Kilana was standing over him.

"Bang," she said, pointing her finger at him. "I can handle myself." She extended a hand to help him up, but he shoved it away and pulled himself up instead. "I just want you to see-"

"You knew Sebastian," Han said, his index finger in her face, "did he seem strong-willed to you, committed?"

"Yes," Kilana said.

"They broke his spirit," Han said, "turned him into one of them. You think this little party trick of yours is going to impress them? You have no idea what you're going up against. These people don't kill you, they turn you into horrible things."

Kilana grabbed the hand and lowered it out of her face. "There's nothing the Vong could make me do that's worse than what I've already done."

"You really think that's the same thing?" Han asked.

"If you knew anything about women, you'd know that it is." She took a deep breath. "Give me a blaster, and let's get this over with."
--------------------------------------------------------------

Seven and the Sith had done all they could on the abandoned Sith world, but Seven did return with them to Chandrilla to continue their research. The relationship between the Jedi and the late Emperor allowed them access to many ISB documents, and Seven began the long, tedious process of trying to find shreds of evidence and make a tapestry out of them. After three days there was little progress, but she pressed on, feeling this was the only worthwhile purpose she could put her mind to. If she succeeded, the Jedi could attack the Sith off guard and hopefully eliminate their threat, and also allowing Seven a chance to persuade Janeway to help her with the Borg question.

Seven was given a suite to stay in during her time on Chandrilla, and one of the Jedi always made it a point to escort her back. At first she thought it was pointless overprotection, but she quickly learned it wasn't really because of her, it was because of Luke, they had so many questions, and Seven could tell, they were holding back many more. She answered them all; Luke deserved to be remembered for all his sacrifices. Tonight it was Pallo, a bit of a slow-learner according to Jaina, but clearly very eager. There was no detail so minute that it didn't fascinate Pallo on the subject of the Jedi and Luke. He reminded her a little of Harry from his younger days. They walked at a slow pace into the turbolift, Seven taking time to reflect on her experiences, Pallo seemingly enthralled by every word. They walked just as easily down the hall, Seven winding the story to a close as they reached her room. Pallo entered the security code, and the door slid open.

Staring from within was the mask of Revan.

Seven froze, but Pallo instinctively reached for his lightsaber. With speed bordering on superhuman the Sith's right hand grabbed the Jedi's throat while the left caught the wrist with the lightsaber. "Run!" Pallo shouted before the sound of choking escaped his throat. The Sith pushed him back against the wall. Seven rushed to strike the opponent, but without losing his grip he swung a foot up and caught her in the mid-section, knocking her backwards and out of breath. She looked up at Pallo as his eyes bugged out, and wondered if she’d beaten the disease only to die here on Chandrilla as well.

[Crazedwraith]

Loved the first scene. Loved the last scene. The others were great too.

[darthdavid]

The nectarine scene was awsome.

[Sonnenburg]

Seven's mind flew at lightning speed as she assessed all aspects of the situation. At the moment, the Sith was still holding up the young Jedi, Pollo, by the throat, the lightsaber lit but useless in his grip while the Sith held his wrist unshakingly back out of harm's way. If she ran, he couldn't pursue easily.

The Sith had been in her room, ergo he was waiting for her. She was no Jedi, so if he'd singled her out it was either because she was considered a great enough threat, or to be used as a bargaining chip against the Jedi. Either way, staying here was only making his job easier.

But what about poor Pallo? That caused a moment's hesitation; leaving someone behind wasn't in her nature. But the fact was, he didn't have the training to stand up to the Sith, and she wasn't too sure if she still had it in her to either. He would kill Pallo either way... or would he? If she did run, wouldn't he pursue her rather than wasting time with some unimportant Jedi apprentice? The decision was reached; it took less than two seconds. Despite the blow she bolted down the corridor and reached for the button to call for the turbolift. A fraction of a second before she did, Pallo's lightsaber hit it, sending a shower of sparks over her. She turned back and saw the Sith, Pallo held in one hand, his other hand still outstretched towards her from the throw. "You run," he said even as he crushed Pallo's throat. "I can see where the boy got his cowardice from."

Seven's anger burned, but she didn't let it control her. She stuck her assimilation tubules into the controls, and the light above it lit up. The door opened and she rushed inside, hitting the first button she saw. The doors started to close, but stoppd as Pallo's lifeless body was tossed in between, wedging them open. She looked in horror from him to the approaching Sith. Running away was no longer an option.

Ben paused a moment in his step as Seven disappeared, despite what his eyes told him. "Your trickery will not save you," he said in leaden tones as he continued on his way. Seven launched herself out of the turbolift with a scream and planted a foot in his chest, knocking him backwards to the floor. She rushed up to follow it up, but he caught her leg and twisted, forcing her to spin to avoid the limb being broken. She landed face down on the floor, the Sith still gripping her foot. She kicked with her other, feeling the satisfying sensation of face and hearing him hit the floor again. She got to her feet, turned, and froze.

Seven didn't see Sebastian in that face, not like everyone else did. She saw Luke there, the anger in his expression that she wished with all her being she could wipe from her mind. But here, around the eyes, and there in the hair, and in the growl, she saw another face, an old one she'd also wished she could forget, and it all came together. "You are the son of Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade," she said, "aren't you?" Every other realm, she'd said, it was a constant. A child was inevitable, and Seven suspected who had brought him here. "This isn't your universe... this isn't your war."

"Neither of us are supposed to be here," Ben said, the hate in his eyes chillingly familiar. "But here we are." He pulled out his saber and lit it. "Surrender, and I won't cause unnecessary pain."

"You already have," Seven growled. Bracers formed on the backs of her forearms. Ben swung the lightsaber around lazily in his group as he approached, then brought it around quickly. Seven brought her left arm up, blocking the strike to Ben's surprise. Before he had time to think her counterstrike was in motion, driving her fingertips into the area below the sternum and knocking the wind out of him. He swung in rage, and Seven was forced back and back, without an opening. But, as she watched, a new fact was realized: he wanted her alive. If the goal was to kill her he'd have already done; she'd seen how he fought, and this was restrained, designed to wound rather than kill. So, the plan was to use her against the Jedi, perhaps... or, perhaps Captain Janeway had convinced the Sith to take her alive, so they could formulate a plan against him. That would be her style. Together they might be able to send this creature back where it came from, then try to sort this mess out.

But she brought him here, a part of Seven commented. Would she really need her help to send him back? If anything, wouldn't she be more likely to help him in the advancement of her cause- No. Seven knew the captain, and this wasn't her. Deep down she was a good person; she wouldn't stoop to the murderous behavior of this Sith, and if she had bought into his vision, Seven could help her see the light. Long shot didn't even begin to describe the difficulty, but compared to besting a Sith who had already slaughtered several Jedi, it was simplicity itself.

Of course, ending this fight with all her pieces intact wasn't exactly easy either. Seven was about to throw herself on the floor and grovel for mercy before realizing that was probably the worst thing to do. With herself cloaked he couldn't see she was simply putting on a show, but even then Sith had contempt for the weak; he'd likely amputate something simply to show his disgust for her. "I surrender," she finally said, still avoiding his blows. "I know when I'm beaten," she said. Now was when she found out how well her deductive reasoning was. "As a warrior, I ask you to end it quickly."

Ben glowered at her, suspicion carved on his every feature. "On your knees," he ordered. She complied. "Hands behind your head." Again, Seven did what he said. Then, in a fraction of a second, his hand shot out and gripped her forehead, and the world went black.
--------------------------------------------------------------

In the caves of Mi-noss, Kilana gradually turned from a stream of energy particles into a living being. Immediately she began a quick inventory of her person, checking to make sure none of her body parts were missing or, possibly worse, spitting something. The small headset was still there too, and miraculously hadn't become fused with her head. She wasn't fused into any of the rocks either. "I'm in," she said, unable to keep the relief out of her voice. After the harrowing experience of the makeshift transporter facing an army of Vong held little terror.

Kilana was a Vorta, and that meant two things. One was that she was genetically designed to fulfill a role in the Dominion. Her people held the leash of the Jem'hadar; they were coordinators and organizers. They were skilled diplomats but keen eyed and distrustful of their opposition. It might seem like stereotyping, but the fact was Vortas were made not born, and as such certain desirable traits were hardwired into them. Hand in hand with that was a fierce devotion to the Founders and an innate desire to serve them to the best of all abilities. She quickly mastered any skill that could best serve the Founders, and even in the cesspit on Ferenginar where she was unwittingly exploited, she picked up on things, from the other girls, from the employees, from the Orion Syndicate members, and even from her clientelle. Inside Kilana's mind was everything you needed to start and maintain a working criminal organization, from how to get the officials to look the other way, to what kind of beverages to serve in your legitimate fronts. It was true that she had been hopelessly naive while working for the Syndicate, but naive doesn't necessarily mean stupid. She'd kept her capabilities well-hidden throughout their exploits... although she'd tipped her hand with Han. Maybe that was a mistake, but, for some reason she felt the need for his approval. She probably was afraid that he might decide to drop her as useless baggage; after all, he was a legend in his own time, and she was just some toy from the back end of space. And maybe she was just afraid that he'd give up otherwise; how he continued to even function with some much sorrow hanging over him was beyond her, but his strength was inspiring... it made her want to win his approval.

Kilana slipped through the caves so silently she made a cat sound like a tap dancer. She withdrew into the shadows when necessary, as hidden as a secret thought. There was a blaster sitting on her hip; she never once reached for it. It was stealth at its finest, and Kilana took just the tiniest amount of pride in her abilities, but it quickly vanished when she reached the cavern.

Kilana didn't enter, but she was near enough the entrance to witness the horror. A gigantic squid-like beast lay partially submerged within the structure. Nearby, the Vong held a struggling, naked Quarren. The helpless being was tossed into the water, where a tentacle quickly caught him and-

Kilana tried to remain as small and hidden as possible, but the beat of her racing heart seemed like the sound of battling giants. Fear of consumption is found in virtually every humanoid species as an instinctual hold-over, but the other part of being a Vorta was being only one step removed from the tree-dwelling monkey they'd been before the Founders elevated them. They had been a prey animal, and the racial memory of that fact left its impression on Kilana, leaving her frozen in terror at the prospect of sharing the fate of the unfortunate alien.

Have Han beam me back up, she thought. No one will blame me for being afraid after witnessing that... who wouldn't be? Leave and let the Alliance handle this, like Han said. Like Han said... because he didn't think you could handle this. If you can't beat your fear, Kilana, if you can't control yourself, then you might as well go right back to Ferenginar where it's safe and no one expects anything dangerous from you because you're just part of the furniture. Slowly, carefully, she slid back down the corridors the way she came and consulted her scan of the caves. There was another way around. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she pushed on.

With an audible sigh of relief, Kilana arrived at the location of the chamber. This nearly proved lethal, as two Vong were within, but sorting through the contents of the room apparently drowned out the sound of her arrival. This was where the Vong seemed to keep the blasphemous technology they nevertheless might need to remain in the war, such as spare parts for transport scramblers and the dust-covered carbon-freezing equipment. The Vong were looking through the equipment in much the same way a humanoid might sort through manure, with visible distaste at the entire process. But, beyond them, Kilana could spot the small monolith that was the victim of the carbonite. She ducked back a little ways just to be safe. "Han," she said, keeping her voice low, "I see it, but there are two Vong in the way. Can you lock on?"

"No, I don't have those kinds of sensors. You need to put the disk on so I can get a lock."

Kilana peered again into the room. "That's not going to be easy," she said. Not whispering was another trick she'd learned. A whisper carries a distinctive sound, but a low voice simply blends in with the background. "If I wait they might leave."

"And if you wait, more might come," Han said. "Or you might get discovered. Every moment raises the odds on you getting caught, so tell me: do you think you can take them out?"

Kilana hesitated. "No," she admitted. "Not before an alarm gets sounded."

"That could raise a transport scrambler," Han admitted. "It's your best chance at success... or I can just pull you out now."

"No," Kilana said, perhaps a little too quickly. "No, I'll do it."

"You understand that if you get stuck there I can't get you out," Han said. "You'll be stuck there with the Vong."

"I know," Kilana said. "I'll take my chances."

Kilana steadied herself, taking out her blaster. She sited along it, and fired, putting a bolt into the back of one of the Vong's neck and sending it down. An alarm began sounding even as the second turned, the shots bouncing harmlessly off its armor until she managed to hit a vulnerable spot and put him down. She ran over to the carbonite block while she contacted Han. "Can you still lock on?"

"Yeah, but you better make this quick."
Kilana attached the device to the side of the block and turned it on. Immediately it vanished into nothingness, while Kilana whirled about watching for more Vong. Seconds later, the cave vanished and the Falcon's interior took its place. Han was already leaving the controls and bolting for the cockpit, Kilana right behind him. "We'll deal with our friend later; right now let's get out of here before Vong coralskippers find us."

The Falcon rose up off the ground and made a beeline for the atmosphere. As expected, coralskippers were moving to intercept, but Han poured on the speed until they reached a safe point to hit the hyperspace controls and vanish from Mi-noss. He dropped back in his seat and puffed out his cheeks as he slowly breathed out. "We did it," he said, his tone lined with disbelief. He smiled at her. "Good work, kid." Kilana only nodded; adrenaline was still shooting through her system. "I've gotta admit, I was a little worried about you for a second. Your heart rate shot through the roof at one point; thought you were going to pass out or something."

Kilana nodded, a little embarrassed that her secret wasn't so secret. "I saw this... thing, eat someone. It was not pleasant to see." She was surprised as Han sat bolt upright. "What?"

"Squid-thing?" he asked.

"Yes," Kilana said. "You know of it?"

"Unfortunately," Han said, suddenly thoughtful. "We're gonna have to tell Volgo Terraine; I'm sure the Empire'd like to have a crack at that thing."

"What is it?" Kilana asked.

"Yammosk," Han said. "Let's hope you don't have to learn anything more about it."
--------------------------------------------------------------

Anakin looked at Pallo one last time before the medical droids removed his body. He'd be brought back to the Jedi temple for the funeral. They were starting to get too good at them. Jaina was nearby, ostensibly to examine the scene of the attack, but Anakin could feel she was focused on her grief. She had been trying so hard with Pallo, and now it was all for nothing. "There's nothing that could have been done differently," Annkin told her by way of comfort, thin though it was.

"He didn't even have a chance, Anakin," Jaina told him, not able to look at her brother. "I should have-"

"There was nothing," Annakin repeated, emphasizing each word. "I doubt you or I could have survived. The Sith has killed every Jedi he's fought-"

"Except you," Jaina pointed out.

"At the cost of Luke's life," Anakin pointed out. "You did all you could do."

"But I find no comfort in those words," Jaina said.

"You're not supposed to," Anakin said. "Our friend, our brother in the Force, is dead; there is a pain from that words won't take away. I'm only telling you not to pile guilt on that pain."

Jaina nodded wordlessly, then looked up and down the hall. "There's no sign of Seven's blood," she said, getting down to business. "Nothing that indicates charred flesh flakes either. He may have taken her alive."

"Why would the Sith want her?" Anakin asked. "He's got to know it won't draw Sebastian out, not now. Why-" He faltered as two stormtroopers arrived, one bearing a datapad. "Yes?"

"Sir," the trooper said, stopping at a precise military stance. "Message for you from Volgo Terraine."

"He can't know anything already, can he?" Jaina asked as Anakin took the pad and examined it.

"No, no he doesn't." Anakin shook his head. "It looks like we have something besides a Sith to worry about for once."

"What could be more important than the Sith?" Jaina demanded.

"A planet we're going to get very familiar with," Anakin said, "called Mi-noss."

[Crayz9000]

I sense a Star By Star-like operation coming on.

[Crazedwraith]

Nice.

A little unclear on something: when Seven blocks the saber strike does she grab his amr or does her armour repell the blade?

[darthdavid]

Good chapter...