Crystal
Dreams ...
It is unfortunate yet unavoidable that the Houses and Clans of the Dark Brotherhood shall war upon
each other in order to achieve dominance. In fact, the Star Chamber gives its tacit approval to such
conflict as it serves to weaken the resistance to its rule.
Prologue
It was an ordinary day. Just another boring cargo run, like the hundreds he'd done before. Crehl Araiza swept his eyes across his control panels again, as he did every few seconds, checking for something out of the ordinary. Finding nothing wrong, he glanced at his copilot and continued his story, "So this Wookie, when he sees that he's beaten, stands up and howls loud enough to wake the dead. Then he bends over the table, rips it loose from the floor, and hurls it through the front window! It smashed the passenger window of a sport skimmer that was parked outside."
His copilot, Nevare Librava, shook his head in mild incredulity, "So what'd the Bith do?"
Crehl chuckled at the memory, "The Bith just sat there for a second, staring at the spot where the hologameboard had been. Then he looks up at the howling Wookie and just freezes. I don't know if he was too scared to move, or just too surprised. So we're all sitting there like that, staring at the Wookie and the Bith. When the Wookie paused his howling, it was so quiet you could hear a cred-chip drop anywhere in the bar. Then this huge lizard jumps up and attacks the Wookie. It was every bit as big as the Wookie. Fur and scales were flying everywhere. The Wookie was howling and the lizard was hissing and clacking its teeth. Constables got there within a couple of minutes and blasted the lizard. Found out later that it was a sentient from Barab I, and that it owned the skimmer that the Wookie had damaged."
"Hoth! What happened to the Wookie?"
"Well, the Wookie ..." Crehl's voice trailed off as he glanced at his scanners and noticed a group of small craft on an apparent intercept course for his transport. "Nevare ... what do you make of this?"
Nevare checked the sensors, then mused uneasily, "Looks like starfighters. I don't like it. They're coming from deep space. They're nowhere near a nav buoy."
Crehl nodded and pushed the transport to top speed with one hand as he opened a hailing frequency with the other, "This is the transport Spaven, hailing unidentified vessels. Please identify yourselves. Repeat, this is the transport Spaven, hailing unidentified vessels. Please identify yourselves."
The response was harsh and brief, "Transport Spaven, heave to and prepare for boarding. Resist, and die."
Crehl switched the mike off and glanced to Nevare. Nevare shook his head, "They're gaining on us. We won't make the nav buoy."
It is an irony that small decisions can lead to large consequences. Such a small thing as a pirate assault team deciding to take one more prize before returning home ... and so begins a Great Jedi War ...
Part 1: Discovery
Stars streaked past the canopy, then settled into points as the Dark Jedi's starfighter entered normal space at a nav buoy near the Setii system. Automatically checking his sensors, he noted the presence of his wingman in a second Imperial starfighter. The nav buoy designation matched that at which he had intended to arrive. All was well along his patrol route ... except for the small battle unfolding near the next nav buoy. A group of Z-95s appeared to be on an intercept course for an armed civilian transport.
"Mayday! Mayday! This is the transport Spaven requesting assistance. We are under attack by unknown hostiles."
The Dark Jedi switched his transmitter to the shipping frequency, "Transport Spaven, we are coming to assist. Hostile starfighters, cease your attack or we will open fire!"
A few of the Z-95s turned from their intercept vector on the Spaven and headed for the Imperial starfighters. "You've got one chance to turn and run, soldier-boy! Else I'll fry you like the grease gobbet you are!"
That didn't sound like a New Republic pilot to the Dark Jedi. And there was another transport loitering out there. Its transponder code matched that of the hostile Z-95s ... probably pirates. The ensuing battle was fierce, but short, as the two Dark Jedi cut down the pirates. Although they were wingmen on this patrol, they were also rival Clansmen in the Brotherhood of the Dark Jedi, so they competed with one another to see who would rack up the most kills.
The Spaven had jumped out sometime during the fight, and now it was time to see about that pirate transport. The Dark Jedi scanned his sensors, and realized that the pirate transport was heading for the nav buoy to hyper out. "Intercept that transport! We must ID it, and prevent its escape!"
The pirate transport was still several klicks away from the nav buoy when the two Dark Jedi closed to within range to scan the transport and its contents. The Dark Jedi felt some disturbance in the Force ... a disturbance that grew greater the closer he came to the transport. As they swept past the transport, he noted that the transport was named the Em'rik, and it was carrying some kind of crystal. He switched to a Clan frequency, "My lord, I've located some kind of powerful Force artifact on a pirate transport at nav buoy 316. Request a boarding transport immediately."
He switched back to his squadron frequency to order his wingman to continue the patrol pattern while he took care of the pirate transport, but his wingman beat him to it, "Why don't you continue with the patrol while I keep an eye on this transport until a boarding party arrives?"
He knew then that his rival had sensed the same thing he had sensed, and had probably summoned a boarding crew from his Clan as well. "I don't think so, gravel-maggot!" And the fight was on.
It was a tough fight, and there was only one starfighter left when it was over. The pirate transport had jumped out while the rival Clansmen fought one another. But, the Dark Jedi had recorded the transport's trajectory, and had a good idea where the transport was headed. He switched to his Clan frequency, "My lord, redirect the boarding crew to nav buoy 321." He approached the nav buoy on the proper course, and jumped to hyperspace.
When he dropped in at nav buoy 321, he was not surprised to see the pirate transport with an escort of Z-95s. He was surprised to see another Imperial starfighter in the area, and even more surprised to receive a message from it, "We'd better clear that fighter cover before the boarding transport arrives, don't you think?"
His response was terse, "Acknowledged."
They cleared the fighter cover, then took down the transport's shields. The boarding transport dropped in about then with perfect timing. That's when the other Imperial starfighter began its attack, "Time to die, morrt!"
The boarding transport disabled and boarded the pirate transport as the two Dark Jedi fought. As before, the battle between Dark Jedi was ferocious, and when it was over, there was only one. The boarding transport had jumped out during the battle, and the only thing left to do was to finish the assigned patrol route, "accidently" destroy the sensor and comm logs, and make up a story to explain the death of his wingman to his squadron commander.
Part 2: Deceived
The Sith pilot stood on the hangar deck, looking out into the cold darkness of interstellar space, his breath condensing in the cool atmosphere of the hangar. A shuttle was approaching, bearing his Clan Consul. Luckily, he didn't have flight duty for another four hours, so he was able to see his Consul immediately. He watched as the shuttle penetrated the atmosphere barrier and descended gracefully to a gentle landing, maneuvering thrusters roaring and hydraulics hissing in the enclosed space. He waited until the landing ramp descended to the hangar deck, then strode up into the interior of the shuttle.
He made his way to the main cabin, then dropped to one knee and bowed before the familiar figure seated there, "My lord."
"Rise, my good and faithful servant. How did you explain the loss of your wingman to your TIE Corps squadron commander?"
The pilot rose smoothly to his feet, "It was obvious that my starfighter had seen battle, so I told them that we'd run across a New Republic starfighter squadron headed for the Inner Rim from the direction of the Minos Cluster. I didn't want the Rear Admiral to start hunting for pirates."
"Very good. And what of your mission recorder?"
"I re-routed power from the port engine relay and fried the navicomp and mission recorder, as well as my communicator. I relied on Instinctive Astrogation to make it back here."
"Well done. That would also explain why I was unable to contact you. So, there is no suspicion about the true nature of your activities? Not even among the other Sith pilots?"
The Sith pilot shook his head, "No suspicion that I have detected. Only a renewed hatred of the New Republic."
"Excellent." The pleasant tones turned harsh and unforgiving, "Now, why were you not present when my boarding party arrived to take the Pirate transport?"
The presence of the Obelisk guards behind him on either side suddenly seemed ominous. A tendril of fear snaked up the pilot's spine as he moistened abruptly dry lips, "My lord?"
The figure before him rose and grated out, "Where is that Force artifact?"
"Where?" The pilot was thoroughly confused, "Didn't your boarding crew find it?"
His Consul must not have sensed deceit in him, because he was not struck down. But that didn't keep the powerful Dark Jedi from bellowing in frustration, "YOU WERE NOT THERE! THE ARTIFACT WAS NOT THERE!" The Consul breathed deeply, and growled, "The boarding party found the Pirate transport at the coordinates you gave. Alone, unguarded, and devoid of any article of interest. One of the Krath was able to detect that a powerful Force artifact had been present recently. We found the wreckage of several starfighters. Most were presumably Pirate, but one was Imperial. What happened?"
"My lord, when I arrived at nav buoy 321, I found the Pirate transport under escort. An Imperial starfighter was also there, and joined me in clearing the bogies and taking down the transport's shields. But the other Imperial 'fighter was piloted by a Sith, so I had to kill him to keep him from taking the artifact for his own Clan. The boarding party arrived and boarded the pirate transport while I fought the other Jedi. When I finished, the boarding transport was gone, and so was the Force artifact." He paused a moment, then continued tentatively, "Perhaps the boarding party was from another Clan?"
"Perhaps," the Consul's anger and frustration was changing to thoughtfulness, "perhaps." Locking gazes with the pilot, the Consul continued, "Say nothing of this to anyone. I have some inquiries to make, and you will continue your duties here as usual. But before I leave, I must know everything you saw or sensed about the transport carrying the Force artifact ..."
§§§
Imperial probes were scattered all over Emperor's Hammer territories, recording and reporting ship movements, communications intercepts, even variations in the level of the hydrogen background emission. All of this data had some significance, but often that significance was only apparent in hindsight, after some notable event had already occurred.
No biological entity could hope to collate and understand the vast quantity of information received from these probes. The data was first processed by special-purpose droids who generated summary reports for scores of analysts who were interested in specific aspects of the information being gathered.
But, there are a few biological entities who have a talent for asking the right questions, and discerning intelligible patterns from hopelessly incomplete data. Coded transmissions that result in the launch of an armed transport from a Clan base. A report of a New Republic squadron deep in Emperor's Hammer territory. An unusual electronics and power system failure in a patrolling starfighter and the loss of a wingman ... both Dark Jedi, but from different Clans. A Consul's visit to a TIE Corps capital ship on patrol, followed by more coded transmissions. These data would paint an interesting picture to an entity who knew to ask the right questions ...
Part 3: Enlightenment
The Clan transport moved cautiously through the dark void of deep space near nav buoy 321, searching for a piece of starfighter debris that might yield some useful bit of information. The search became more difficult by the minute, as debris clouds drifted and spread apart along the final vector of each destroyed starfighter. The Krath manning the sensor station spoke after long minutes of silence, "I have a small sensor return from an object near our flight path. Heading zero-zero-seven-point-three by minus zero-one-two-point-six. Range is eight-point-three clicks."
"Affirmative," responded the Sith pilot perfunctorily, "altering course to specified coordinates."
Neither Dark Jedi was especially interested in the prospect of retrieving yet another piece of hull plating and scouring it for some minutia that might provide a clue to the current whereabouts of the Pirate base. Over the last eleven hours they had already compiled a long list of radiation readings, adsorbed atomic and molecular species, component serial numbers, tissue samples, two identification cards, a credit chit, clothing samples, atmospheric gases from the Pirate transport, and a few nav buoy locations from partially recovered astromech memory cores. But the Pirate transport navicomp memory core had been removed, presumably by whoever had boarded to take the Force artifact, and they had not yet found an undamaged starfighter astromech memory core.
"Looks like an R2 unit," the Krath reported, when they had closed the range to two clicks, "and ... it doesn't appear to be badly damaged."
The pilot keyed the intercom to the main cabin, allowing a hopeful tone to creep into his voice, "Prepare to retrieve an R2 astromech unit."
Two of the four Obelisk boarding crew members suited up and pressurized their vacuum suits, checking for leaks while the pilot maneuvered the transport alongside the drifting astromech unit. The remaining two Obelisk prepared to receive the R2 unit.
"Transport positioned for retrieval," reported the pilot.
The senior of the two suited Obelisk opened the airlock and stepped inside, followed by the junior. The senior initiated the airlock cycle, then keyed the intercom, "Beginning retrieval operation." A red beacon flashed and the familiar warning message sounded, "Warning, airlock evacuation ..." The message abruptly cut off as the suited figure thumbed the confirmation button.
"Acknowledged," responded the pilot.
The junior Obelisk hefted a magnetic grapple and tested its power cell, nodding in approval as the background sounds of the transport faded away. A glance at the airlock pressure gauge indicated that the evacuation cycle was nearly complete. They waited patiently until the evacuation cycle finished, then they opened the outer lock doors. An R2 astromech unit was tumbling rapidly against the backdrop of space, dimly illuminated by the light from the airlock. Both Obelisk switched on their helmet lamps to get a better look.
The R2 unit was essentially whole, except for a missing leg. It was badly carbon scored, and its outer shell was torn and partially melted on the quadrant where the missing leg had been. "Best one we've seen yet," commented the senior Obelisk. The astromech unit was seven meters away from the airlock, a little above and behind centerline. "Three-axis tumble. A little less than one-eighty degrees per second."
"Should we ask the pilot to compensate?" asked the junior Obelisk.
"No. He can only compensate for one, or maybe two axes of rotation. He'd strain the inertial dampers on this tub trying to compensate for all three axes. Belay the grappling rope to a handhold here in the lock. Then grapple the astromech unit. We'll just have to be careful once we get it into the lock. It will bounce around a little."
"Okay." The junior Obelisk secured one end of the grappling rope to a handhold, then activated the magnetic grapple and tossed it out to the R2 unit. The grapple connected to the tumbling R2 unit, and the rope began coiling around the tumbling astromech. As the two Obelisk applied pressure to the rope that was slipping through their gloves, the astromech began reeling in towards the airlock.
"That's fast enough. Back away and be ready to jump clear if it tumbles towards you," commanded the senior Obelisk. The junior nodded assent and both moved back toward the inner airlock door as the R2 unit drifted into the artificial gravity of the airlock and plunged to the deck. Its tumble caused it to ricochet from the deck into the forward bulkhead, then back to the deck. Bouncing off the aft bulkhead, it rolled back across the deck to the forward bulkead, where it rebounded and slid to a stop before reaching the aft bulkhead again. The senior Obelisk keyed the intercom, "Astromech unit retrieved."
"We know. Is the airlock still functional?" asked the pilot, sarcastically.
"Nothing a coat of paint won't cure," chuckled the senior Obelisk.
The pilot resumed the search pattern while the Obelisk brought the R2 unit in. It took twenty minutes to remove its memory core and interface it to their own astromech droid. Five minutes later their astromech reported the coordinates of the Pirate base.
§§§
The Consul's shuttle was en route from a visit to the Sith pilot who had first sensed the Force artifact. An artifact that might, perhaps, enable one Clan to reign supreme over all other Clans within the Brotherhood. Spies had been contacted to determine if another Clan had stolen the artifact. Analysts had been ordered to comb through all accessible intelligence data to determine if the movements of the Pirate force could be traced. A survey team was scouring the region of space near the Pirate transport, searching for clues. The Consul wanted that artifact badly.
"My lord," the shuttle pilot's voice interrupted the Consul's meditation, "the survey team is reporting in."
"Acknowledged," the Consul replied, and glanced at the communications panel. Line three was blinking. Activating line three, the Consul spoke, "Report."
"My lord, we've recovered a Pirate astromech unit with a nearly undamaged memory core. We think we've found the location of the Pirate base. Transmitting coordinates now."
Part 4: A Pirate's Tale
Foutch Melton grunted softly, then keyed the ship-to-ship transmitter of his ancient Z-95 Headhunter, "Stumpy. You see anything out there?"
Wallpole "Stumpy" Contee, so-called because his lower right leg had been lost in a raid two years before, replied after a short pause, "Where? I don't see nothin'."
"Out towards Sector 352. I'm gettin' a ping, but nothin' solid." Foutch hammered the console with his fist, loud enough for Stumpy to hear it over the transmitter, "The sensors in this cursed rust-bucket couldn't detect a Star Destroyer if I was parked on the Bridge!"
Stumpy veered his Headhunter toward Sector 352 and turned the gain up on his long-range sensors. He studied the display for a nearly a minute before replying, "I'm not gettin' nothin'. Could be a sensor ghost."
"Ghost from what? There's no nebula around here," Foutch snorted disgustedly.
"Ionized gas ain't the only thing that emits, or reflects signals, ya know. Could be a high-iron asteroid that hit something and broke up, spreadin' iron dust out over hundreds of klicks."
"That's possible, I guess," Foutch muttered. "Okay. You think we can call this sector clear?"
"Sure. Let's head back to base. I'm bushed."
"Me too. I only got a short nap after the boardin' crew picked me up. As soon as we got back to base Saulks sent me out on this patrol. I swear that cursed crystal's made Saulks nuttier than he's ever been."
"Best not let him hear you say that," cautioned Stumpy.
"Yeah. I'm just beat is all. Let's head back."
Foutch brought his Headhunter around to a heading for the pirate base, activated his autopilot, and entered the base coordinates into his navicomp. He idly watched the display as the navicomp completed the first set of calculations and sent a course correction to the autopilot, then began the final hyperjump calculation. He keyed the ship-to-ship transmitter when the hyperjump countdown appeared on the display, "See ya back at base, Stumpy."
There were a few seconds of silence, followed by Stumpy's bantering reply, "Not if I see you first, you ugly son of a mynock." Foutch had no chance fire a return insult before his hyperdrive engaged and the brilliant points of starlight ahead streaked past his starfighter's canopy.
§§§
The Dark Jedi meditated as his TIE Advanced starfighter streaked through hyperspace. He now had a chance to redeem himself from his earlier failure to protect the Force Artifact. As far as the TIE Corps was concerned, he was taking a short leave to conduct some personal business. Sometimes it was definitely beneficial to have a fellow clansman, or in this case a clanswoman, in the position of Deputy Personnel Officer aboard one's TIE Corps mother ship.
His mission was two-fold ... first, to reconnoiter the pirate base. Secondly, he was to soften up the pirate's defenses by destroying as many of their starfighters as he could. He had two wingmen, both loyal fellow clansmen. He was wingleader, designated Knight 1. Young Melwani Gruys was Knight 2, and Shar'leen Z'ahm was flying Knight 3. Shar'leen was swift and sudden death in the cockpit, but he was a little worried about Melwani. He'd never flown with Melwani, and considered him to be a little inexperienced for so important a mission. If only they'd had a little more time to prepare ...
The hyperdrive alarm alerted Knight 1 to the impending drop back into realspace. He swiftly ran through his systems checks, then divided his attention between his forward canopy and his combat multiview display (CMD) as he dropped out of hyperdrive. He saw no bogies ahead, so he swiftly began supercharging his shields while he switched his CMD to map view.
There was a platform five klicks to port, a couple of capital ships, and eight starfighters to starboard moving to intercept his flight ... four Y-Wings in Crimson flight, and four Headhunters in Ebony flight ... all warhead capable. His comm channel scanner picked up an unencrypted transmission, "They've found us! Crimson ... Ebony ... intercept!"
The Y-Wings were closer, so Knight 1 ordered his wingmen to attack Crimson 3, then he targeted Crimson 2, activated his warhead targeting computer, and selected dual-fire mode. His warhead threat indicator lit up at 2.5 clicks, warning him that someone was trying to lock a missile onto him. He didn't wait for a full lock on Crimson 2. He fired two advanced concussion missiles (ACMs) at two clicks with a partial lock, then quickly scanned his area map display. The flight of Headhunters was at two clicks and closing on his port flank. He wanted to intercept them, but one of the Y-Wings had fired an advanced concussion missile at him. So he targeted the missile at seven hundred meters and turned toward it while he switched to cannons, blasting the missile just outside damage range. Crimson 2 had run right into his first salvo, so twenty seconds into pirate space it was Dark Jedi 1, Pirates 0.
Knight 1 signaled his wingmen, "Watch your six. If someone tries to get tone on you, go evasive. These jokers are armed with ACMs ... one solid hit and you're toast."
Melwani and Shar'leen were still on Crimson 3, and someone else was trying to get tone on him. He targeted the Y-Wing on his tail and pulled a tight one-eighty, switching back to warheads. Fifteen seconds later Crimson 1 was nothing more than an expanding debris cloud. Then it got ugly for nearly a minute as first one, then another of the pirates tried to lock their ACMs on him. He stayed evasive until he had shaken them loose, then he targeted Crimson 3 and fired two ACMs without a lock, at point-blank range. Three down, five to go. The engagement had long since degenerated into a lethal furball.
One of the enemy pilots lost his composure, "We can't hold them!" Knight 1 ordered his wingmen to attack Ebony 1, then he had to go evasive again. They did better with the weakly shielded Headhunter than they had with the Y-Wing, bringing it down in less than 30 seconds. He then ordered them to attack Crimson 4. Forty seconds later he was able to shake his attackers long enough to annihilate Crimson 4 with a pair of ACMs. The remaining Headhunters were destroyed in less than thirty seconds.
Knight 1 pulled his wingmen into formation, then headed for Platform Cordona, inspecting Modified Corvette Gallant and Carrack Cruiser Intrigue along the way. Neither had any cargo aboard. He was just completing his inspection of Platform Cordona when he noticed that Knight 2 had peeled off and was attacking the Gallant. "Knight 2, return to formation immediately!"
He never knew if Melwani Gruys heard his order or not, because at that instant the turbolaser gunners aboard the Gallant hit their target, and Knight 2 blossomed into fiery oblivion. "Hoth! He's gone! I never even noticed he'd left formation ..." Shar'leen sounded thunderstruck, but angry, "Let's burn those gravel maggots!"
"Not this time, three. We have to get these sensor readings back to the Consul. We'll get 'em when we return," Knight 1 grimly replied. He was burning with anger, but knew they'd both be flayed alive if anything happened to those sensor logs.
"Head home, three. We've got a lot of work ahead of us."
§§§
Foutch Melton had time only for a short nap before the hyperdrive alarm startled him awake. He cursed grumpily as he sat up and unsuccessfully tried to focus on the navicomp display screen. He scrubbed his eyes with his fists and tried again, making out that the drop to realspace would occur in less than a minute. Foutch got himself buckled back into his harness and had about half the recommended system checks accomplished when he dropped out of hyperspace a few klicks from the base. He could easily see the base platform Cordona, flanked by an old Carrack Cruiser named the Intrigue on one side, and a recently "liberated" Modified Corvette renamed the Gallant on the other side.
The ship-to-ship transmitter crackled to life, "Ebony Three, beard not the dragon in his lair ..."
"... for the dragon never sleeps," Foutch automatically completed the pass-phrase.
"Ebony Three, you're cleared to land. Report to the Ready Room immediately upon arrival." The controller sounded a wee bit brusque.
"C'mon, Burek. I'm hungry and I need some sleep!" Foutch hoped he didn't sound as whiney to Sauer Burek as he sounded to himself.
"Orders from Saulks himself, Melton. You and Stumpy are to be in the Ready Room in ten minutes. No excuses."
Foutch angrily cut the transmitter and cursed a blue streak the entire while that he and Stumpy were approaching the platform to land in the hangar. He did notice, however, that the entire Crimson flight of Y-Wings was on patrol around the platform.
§§§
Foutch had no sooner climbed down from his Headhunter and tugged his flight helmet off his head than he was cursing again. He stalked over to Stumpy and paused in his cursing long enough to bite off a terse and deliberately insulting question, "What the Hoth does that son-of-a-bantha Saulks think he's doin'? We're gonna be no good to anyone, exhausted and half-starved!"
Stumpy shrugged and continued to walk toward the Ready Room, gesturing to the almost frenetic activity in the hangar bay, "Looks to me like an insect colony that's been stirred up ... everyone runnin' around like that. Somethin' must be up."
Foutch let that thought seep through his fatigue-dulled mind as they walked down a hallway just beyond the hangar. People did seem a little stirred up right now. He recognized Vanderen Hegwer walking rapidly down the hallway toward them, and reached out to grab his near arm as they passed, "Hegwer ... what's goin' on around here?"
Vanderen just looked at him impatiently for a moment, then glanced down at his flightsuit and seemed to have a revelation, "Ahhh ... been out on patrol?"
"Yeah, yeah. What's goin' on?"
"There was an incursion by some Imperial faction ... probably the Emperor's Hammer," Vanderen replied, as if that explained everything. Foutch was simultaneously bewildered by Vanderen's words and irritated by his educated manner of speech.
He gazed at Foutch expectantly for a few moments, then elaborated slowly, as if to a small child, "They have the coordinates for this base. They know where we are. We're evacuating the Cordona."
It finally dawned on Foutch. He released Vanderen's arm and growled low in his throat, then raised his face to the ceiling and bellowed, "HOTH!"
Clandestine meetings occur on Eos, and elsewhere. Sub-rosa couriers shuttle back and forth. A dark hooded figure gazes out onto the bleak surface of Eos, and smiles coldly.
Part 5: A Minor Setback
The native-born Auroran house servants cowered in fear as the Force-enhanced bellowing of the Consul literally shook the foundations of the mansion. They could clearly hear him from their station in the foyer, even through the sound-deadened walls of the meeting chamber. They feared his power. They feared his ire. And they feared what he might do if they heard something that they shouldn't. But they also feared leaving their posts.
"I can't believe what I'm hearing! You allowed those incompetent scum to get away with the Artifact?" The Consul was livid with rage and frustration, waving a document flimsy high in the air, "I've just discovered that other clans are after my prize, and you let it get away! What have you to say for yourself!"
Knight 1 moistened dry lips and responded softly, his visage blanched, "My lord, we did take the platform as ordered, and we have downloaded the main memory core for analysis. Torture of key prisoners has yielded the most likely escape route, as well as a clue into the nature of the Force Artifact. The prisoners have told us that the Artifact is some kind of crystal that enhances Force ability ... even latent ability. It was found in a cavern deep within the crust of Circarpous V by a university archeology expedition. Saulks' pirates raided the expedition transport and took the crystal, along with anything else of possible value. Our prisoners reported that the archeologists thought that the crystal might be related in some way to the legendary Kaiburr crystal, rumored to have properties that focus and intensify the Force. The archeologist's records should be in the platform's memory core."
Knight 1 waited quietly, head bowed, for a renewal of the tirade. The Consul's voice was harsh, but nearly conversational in volume, "Where is this memory core?"
"Your Obelisk warriors have it, my lord. They brought it back aboard the Assault Transport."
"How long until you are prepared to pursue the corvette that escaped with the crystal?"
Knight 1 spoke with greater confidence than before, "The ground crew is already refueling and re-arming the Gunboats. We can leave in half an hour."
"Do it," the Consul commanded brusquely, "Time is of the essence. I suspect that we are being spied upon." The Consul wheeled abruptly and strode toward the large double doors, "Meanwhile, I will have a look at that memory core."
The small device hidden within the backup power cell of Gunboat Knight 1 would escape all but the most thorough inspection. It would not affect the functioning of the Gunboat, but just prior to each hyperspace jump the Gunboat took, it would broadcast a compressed pulse-chirp containing the current navicomp hyperspace coordinates. The pulse-chirp was designed to be so short that no conventional scanner could hope to lock onto its signal before it ended ... even if detected, it would appear to be nothing more than a noise spike to all but the intended receiver ...
Part 6: Fleeting Joy
Space outside the Assault Transport was strewn with the wreckage of dozens of pirate X-Wings and Y-Wings. Knight Flight had done an excellent job of gaining space superiority over the pirate forces. One of the Gallant Modified Corvettes had been transporting the crystal, but his Obelisk warriors had made short work of the pirate counter-boarding team. And now, the crystal was his.
The Consul pulled his black skin-tight gloves off to hold his prize in his hands. It was cool to the touch, a deep crimson in hue. He closed his eyes and concentrated on just feeling the crystal. Tracing its facets in his mind's eye. Seeking its true nature. Two things happened then, almost simultaneously. He suddenly noticed that the crystal seemed warm and comfortable, not at all like a large gem. And the collision alarm klaxon reverberated throughout the Assault Transport. He opened his eyes and noticed two more things simultaneously. An Imperial Star Destroyer had dropped out of hyperspace almost exactly on top of them, filling the entire forward viewport, and the crystal was glowing!
His mind was frozen for a scant few moments while the pilot franticly worked the controls, trying to avoid collision with the Star Destroyer. The cabin lurched underfoot, and the pilot murmured softly, "They're tractoring us in." Then the copilot jarred him back to the present, "Incoming message for you, my lord."
The Consul nodded at the copilot, then a familiar voice of authority sounded from the comm, "Well, Consul, what a pleasant surprise. I believe that you have something for me."
Part 7: Fool's Errand
Grand Master Khyron sat in the darkened throneroom aboard the Imperial Star Destroyer Subjugator. The field of battle was visible through the large ports at one side of the throneroom, and careful study would reveal the larger pieces of debris from the recent pirate attack, glinting softly with reflected light from the nearby star as they tumbled on their way to eternity. The vast majority of the debris was from the attacking Y-Wings, but some of it was from the craft piloted by his loyal servants. He did not gaze out those portals, however. His gaze was held by the softly glowing crystal that he nestled in his bare hands. He studied the gem for long minutes before he raised his head and spoke, "The pirate attack on the Subjugator was a fool's errand."
The shadowed figure standing next to his throne nodded agreement, "Foolish indeed. But it might have succeeded if not for the skill of those few Sith pilots who accompanied us here."
"Call in the clans from their fruitless searches. Tell them that I have the crystal, but that the pirate base is theirs for the taking. Find out which clan forces can be sent to us, and then coordinate them for an attack on the Platform Cordona. The Subjugator will lead the attack."
"Yes, my Master," the shadowed figure bowed respectully, before striding purposefully for the entrance to the chamber.
Part 8: Vengeance!
Knight 1 centered the Victory Star Destroyer Azzkikr in his crosshairs and activated his rocket launchers. He was leading a flight of three TIE Defenders, and he intended to turn that VSD into a glowing hulk. It had lead the unsuccessful attack against the Subjugator, and its service history would end today. "Knight Flight. Attack my target."
"Knight 2, order acknowledged."
"Knight 3, attacking your target."
Shar'leen was flying Knight 2 on this heavy assault mission. Others would take care of space superiority, at least until their warhead loads were spent. He grinned fiercely as he got tone, and fired both launchers simultaneously. This would feel good.
§§§
Knight 1 stood straight and proud, to one side of the ceremonial awards chamber on Eos, watching as Clan Talryan was awarded a Dreadnaught and a Modified Corvette, and then as Clan Arcona was awarded a Carrack Cruiser. Saulks had been an arrogant fool, and he and his pirate band had lost almost everything they'd ever plundered, as well as their lives. His Consul would not get the Force crystal, but at least he'd proven the value of his Clan to the Grand Master. That was enough ... for now.