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Shattered Mirror (Post-TUF, Major AU, J/J, A/T, Kyle, Danni) SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT 5/7/08
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rebel_cheese
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Jul '06
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Date Posted:
8/1/06 11:46am
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RE: Shattered Mirror (Post-TUF, Major AU, J/J, A/T, Kyle, Danni )*RE-POST IN PROGRESS*
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Warmaster Artran Kharran gazed at the space beyond the hull of the Sunslayer, gazed at the myriad of coral warships sitting there idly. The fleet that Artran had at his disposal was the second largest ever gathered by the Yuuzhan Vong since entering this galaxy. The largest had been the one that had laid waste to Mon Calamari, turning the world from a water-covered sapphire gem into little more than a charred, lifeless piece of rock. This fleet was poised to do the same thing to Bakura, as soon as the Warmaster saw fit to do so.
The reason why Artran had yet to see fit to order Bakura’s destruction had a lot to do with the Requiem-class star destroyer that was sitting in the midst of his fleet, standing out like a rancor amidst a herd of banthas.
Artran blinked. How do I know that a rancor would stand out in a group of banthas? I don’t even know what a rancor or a bantha is.
The Warmaster shrugged away his confusion and returned his attention to the glistening gold infidel warship approaching the Sunslayer. The large warship was according, to the warriors manning the Sunslayer’s command deck, one-point-two kilometres in length and seemed to resemble a giant shark on the hunt, with its rounded bow, tapering tail, and wings that almost looked like immense fins. The forward ‘fins’ housed what looked like two massive cannons; Artran would put their length at about three hundred metres, a quarter of the length of the entire ship. Note to self: try to avoid being on the receiving end of those monsters.
The ship—the Requiem, it’s captain had called it—seemed to emanate the nervousness and terror of its crew as it slinked through the Yuuzhan Vong fleet. It was carrying several so-called dignitaries from the Bakuran government, here to make an attempt at avoiding a full-scale conflict with the Yuuzhan Vong. Such attempts at diplomacy would ultimately prove useless, of course, but Artran was willing to indulge them for a while.
“The infidel warship is launching a shuttle, Warmaster.”
“Let it land.” Artran said uncaringly. “Once it has, I want you to escort them back up to the command deck personally.”
Even though he had his back to him, Artran could sense the outrage and anger burn in his brother’s cheeks. “Warmaster—.”
“You object to such a simple task?”
“Sir, ‘greeting’ a group of infidels is a task I would expect a simple warrior to perform!” Sharrvon Kharran hissed violently.
“I know that, Sharrvon,” Artran’s voice remained perfectly calm and even, as if he was merely ordering a routine course correction for the Sunslayer’s darkspace jumps. “I want the infidels to think that we’re serious about these so-called negotiations.”
“We aren’t serious about these ‘negotiations’, are we?”
“Is that any concern of yours?” Artran retorted. “If it will help you keep things in perspective, though; no, we are not serious about these negotiations. I merely want to see if the Bakurans can be of any use to us before we wipe them out. If they aren’t, I’ll kill the Prime Minister myself and then order the invasion. Either way, we lose nothing. Now—argh.”
It wasn’t a growl of pain; physical pain would have only brought a twitch to Artran’s eye and a small smile to his lips. This was a different kind of pain. Mental, emotional. The pain you got when you felt someone else’s influence inside your head.
“What is wrong?” Sharrvon whispered, so that only he and the Warmaster would hear him speak. The lower ranked members of the Sunslayer’s crew could not be allowed to know of Artran’s weakness. Especially the priests. Those idiots might take it as a sign that the gods had removed their favour from Artran.
Artran ignored his brother’s question and concentrated on his left hand, squeezing it into a fist until he could feel his nails digging into his skin. He let his hate flow through him, let it fight the second personality beginning to develop inside his skull.
Sharrvon noticed Artran’s curled fist. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”
Artran nodded, slowly.
“Riina?”
Artran nodded again, even slower than before. “It’s worse for me than it is for her.”
“How much longer do you think the two of you have?”
“A few weeks,” Artran sighed. “A couple of months at the most.”
“Then we need to kill them quickly, before—.”
“I know what’s going to happen if we don’t kill them!” Artran accidentally let a bit too much of his anger into his voice. He took a moment to regain his composure before he spoke again. “Before those infidels land, is there anything else to report?”
“I have been told that there was a battle between a small fleet of our ships and the Archangel two days ago,” Sharrvon replied.
“What?” Artran hissed. “Where?”
“Near what the infidels call the unknown regions,” Sharrvon said. “Our fleet interrupted a meeting between the Archangel and the Lusankya.”
“How many ships did we lose?”
“All of them, Warmaster,” Sharrvon’s voice echoed Artran’s unfeeling detachment at the loss of Yuuzhan Vong life. “One battleship, three cruisers, three destroyers, and one of our new carrier-interdictors. The only survivor was a dark-skipper.”
“The commander of didn’t survive, I trust?”
“No, he did not.”
“Good,” Artran muttered under his breath. “Did he manage to take down any of the Jeedai?”
“Three of the seven Jeedai fighter-abominations were destroyed. The dark-skipper’s pilot does not know whether the Jeedai themselves survived.”
“Until someone brings me a body, they’re alive,” Artran clenched both of his fists. That ship needs to die. One thing at a time, though. “How did our ships find the Jeedai in the first place?”
“The fleet’s commander was contacted by a shaped infidel aboard the Archangel.”
Artran’s mood shifted considerably. “I see… interesting. That infidel shuttle will land soon. Strip whoever is on board of their weapons and then bring them up here.”
“Yes, Warmaster,” Sharrvon said curtly, and then turned on his heels and proudly walked to the membrane at the back of the Sunslayer’s command deck. Artran allowed himself a deep breath, made doubly sure that he was going to be able to stay in control for the next hour or so, and then turned to face the membrane and await the Bakuran officials.
It took some time for Sharrvon to return. The Sunslayer’s commander and Artran’s older brother was slightly taller and more muscular, and overall was considerably more intimidating than the Warmaster. However, intimidation was the only area in which Sharrvon could outdo Artran. The last person to make the mistake of assuming he was the more lethal of the two Kharran brothers had paid with his life, as had everyone else before him.
Sharrvon and the four warriors who escorted him brought along three infidels. The oldest was a dark-skinned human male with several streaks of grey permeating his brown hair, and Artran assumed he was in charge of the group. Walking beside him was another human male that Artran found strangely familiar. The man was in his thirties, with short brown hair and dark green eyes. The final member of the group was far younger than the other two; a bodyguard, perhaps, or maybe an aide of some kind. In any case, the only one of the group Artran was really interested in was the leader.
“Warmaster Kharran,” Sharrvon said as he gestured towards the oldest of the infidels. “This is Admiral Johnarath Ducaris. His superiors have given him the privilege of being sent to meet with you.”
“Or the privilege of being the first Bakuran for me to kill,” Artran added as the warriors forced the infidels to kneel. “It all depends on how this meeting progresses. Now what have you brought to persuade me not to turn Bakura into a dead rock?”
“I have been ordered to inform you, Warmaster, that our government is willing to give you whatever you wish,” Ducaris replied. “Supplies, information, military assistance—.”
“Military assistance?” Artran snorted in disgust. You’re trying to hold back, old man. What is it that you won’t give me until you’ve exhausted every other option? “What gives you the idea that we would need the assistance of your military? My invasion force outnumbers your entire military by more than two-to-one. Your ‘military’ is insignificant. Beyond insignificant. Do not tell me, Admiral, that you have come all this way with nothing to offer me. In that case, all you’ve done is walked straight to your own death.”
“Warmaster Kharran, all we desire is to leave in peace with the Yuuzhan Vong. We recognise your right—.”
“We don’t need your ‘recognition’ of our right to rule this galaxy!” Artran hissed. “The gods recognise it, and that is all that matters.” Artran gestured with his hand, and all four warriors took their amphistaffs into their hands, ready to attack the instant their Warmaster ordered them to do so, and, right now, Artran was leaning very much towards doing so. “Really, Admiral, this is pathetic.”
“We are willing to do whatever it takes to earn your favour, Warmaster,” Ducaris continued. “As you know, there are hundreds of refugee ships attempting to enter our system. We are willing to give them—.”
“Admiral, you still haven’t given me a good reason to spare your life,” Artran hissed. “If you don’t come up with something better soon, I’ll have my guards kill you and then order my ships to turn Bakura into a dead rock.”
“What do you mean, we haven’t offered you anything? We said we’d sell our own people to you as slaves! What more do you—?”
The young aide’s outburst ended when one of the warriors standing behind him ran an amphistaff through his neck.
“You should really tell your assistants to stay quiet,” Artran observed callously as the dying infidel collapsed. Cleaner bugs instantly ran out to keep the pool of blood from spreading too far.
Ducaris wisely chose not to object to the murder of his assistant. “Warmaster,” he said from where he was being forced to kneel. “We will give you—.”
“Why would I let you give something to me when I could just walk into your system and take it?” Artran demanded. “I’m disappointed, Admiral; I would have thought that you’d have prepared something that would interest me. Right now, all you’re doing is wasting my time.” Artran lowered his head slightly. “I do not tolerate that from my subordinates. Why should I tolerate it from you?”
The trio of warriors standing behind the infidels tightened their grips on their weapons, expecting their Warmaster to give them the order to kill. Artran was a moment away from doing so when the infidel kneeling beside Ducaris spoke up.
“Warmaster, we do have something that might interest you,” he said hurriedly.
Artran raised his hand and halted the warriors. “This is your last chance, infidel.”
“We have reason to believe that there is a Jedi on Bakura.”
“A Jeedai?” Artran asked, sharing an instant-long look of astonishment with his brother. We haven’t had a chance to capture a live Jedi since Myrkr. It would be the perfect bait for the Archangel!
“Yes, Warmaster Kharran,” The younger infidel continued, relaxing slightly now that he was in no immediate danger of being killed. “Jysella Horn.”
Artran blinked in surprise. “I trust you brought proof with you.”
The younger infidel reached into a pocket on his shirt and produced a small piece of flimsiplast, which he then held out for Kharran to take. Artran silently applauded the man for being smart enough to bring that instead of a datapadd that, under these circumstances, would get him killed. Artran snatched the flimsiplast from the man’s fingers and examined it.
It was a printed holo-image, showing one of Bakura’s busy spaceports. Near the top-left corner of the image, someone had circled a young child. The image was very clear, so Artran had no trouble recognising the child. So the brat is alive. “How old is this image?”
“Two weeks, Warmaster,” Ducaris said crisply. Despite the admiral’s attempt to conceal it, Artran easily sensed the annoyed edge in the old man’s voice. He doesn’t like being pushed around… he’s arrogant. An easily exploited weakness.
“Well done, Admiral. You have my attention,” Artran said as he passed the piece of flimsiplast to Sharrvon. “How certain are you that the Jeedai child is still on Bakura?”
“Almost absolutely,” Ducaris replied. “I have my men searching every ship that leaves the system. If someone tried to smuggle her out, we’d find her.”
Not exactly foolproof, but it’s better than nothing. Artran took the flimsiplast back from his brother and examined it again. “Who is the woman meeting the Jeedai?”
“We have no idea, Warmaster,” Artran suppressed an amused chuckle at the slight, almost undetectable trace of fear behind the admiral’s voice. “That is the only image we have, and her back is to the holo-camera. Rest assured that we are doing everything within our power to find the girl so we can—.”
“Keep her hidden away while you try to extort as much from us as possible?” Artran interrupted. “I don’t think so, Admiral. You will return to Bakura with three of my warriors. They will find the girl and bring her to me. Once she is lying on the floor in front of me, I will decide whether or not to wipe your planet from existence.”
“You expect me to let your warriors into Bakura without your guarantee of Bakura’s safety?” Ducaris’s voice was entirely too demanding for someone with four blood-thirsty Yuuzhan Vong warriors at his back. “If you want the girl—.”
“Admiral, let me explain a concept that has seemed to escape you,” Artran dropped to one knee so he could stare straight into Ducaris’s blue eyes. “You aren’t in any position to bargain here. The only reason you’re still alive is because I have seen fit to give you a chance to prolong the existence of your planet. I decide what happens to you, your ship, and your planet. So now I am giving you a choice; get my warriors into Bakura and allow them to retrieve the Jeedai for me, or die during my invasion. I don’t particularly care which.”
“What is stopping you from launching your invasion after you have the Jedi brat?” Ducaris hissed through clenched teeth.
“Nothing,” Artran shrugged uncaringly. “If the Jeedai brat is delivered to me in good condition, I might be more open to allowing your planet to live a while longer. Now get out. My warriors will meet you on your shuttle.” Artran stood and barked an order in Yuuzhan Vong to the four warriors. Two of them grabbed Ducaris and the other infidel and hauled both to their feet, while the other two grabbed the dead human and dragged the body from the command deck.
Artran ignored the disdainful looks he got from the priests and some of the Sunslayer’s officers as he and Sharrvon left the bridge to stand inside the empty adjoining chamber.
“This is almost too good to be true,” Artran said softly, studying the flimsiplast image of Jysella Horn.
“Which means that it probably isn’t true,” Sharrvon observed.
“If it is, though…” Artran ran his finger over the image of Jysella, silently thanking the girl. “If my memory is correct, she’d only be seven years old. A rather… impressionable age.”
“Artran, if you’re thinking of—.”
“Why not?” Artran folded the flimsiplast in half twice and slid it beneath his wrist armour. “We’re going to need all the help we can get to overthrow Shimrra, and even more help to drive this pathetic empire into the ground. Having a Jedi brat on our side is going to go a long way towards both of those goals.”
“And, of course, the Jeedai aboard the Archangel will find it hard to resist a rescue attempt.” Sharrvon noted, stroking a scar on his face as he studied his younger brother. “You’re going to bring her back yourself.”
Artran nodded. “Finding one Jedi brat should be an easy task for Riina and me to perform.”
“Who’s the third warrior, then?”
“Nom Anor,” Artran said. “I’ll have him infiltrate the Bakuran government while Riina and I track down the girl. He should be able to keep them off our backs.”
“If they discover you’re on the planet…”
“Then Riina and I will need only wait for you to show up,” Artran pushed his cloak back far enough for him to access his holo-emitter and change the settings slightly. “You remember the battle plan for the invasion, of course?”
“Of course.”
Artran finished his alterations to the holo-emitter and took a moment to double-check his new look. His armour had suddenly gone from a deep crimson to a dull black, that of an ordinary warrior, and over half of his scars had suddenly disappeared. “How do I look?”
Sharrvon looked him over. “It’ll pass.”
“Good,” Artran locked the alterations and then headed towards the chamber’s back door. “I’ll grab Riina on the way down to the landing deck. See that Nom Anor meets us there in an appropriate ooglith masquer. I’ll be back in a week or two with the Jedi brat in tow, and then we’ll be one step closer to taking over the galaxy.”
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Padawan of princess_of_naboo E-married to the amazing padawanlost  Member of Charon_Force Beginning's End: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28450077&brd=10477&replies=1
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rebel_cheese
Registered:
Jul '06
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Date Posted:
8/1/06 11:47am
Subject:
RE: Shattered Mirror (Post-TUF, Major AU, J/J, A/T, Kyle, Danni )*RE-POST IN PROGRESS*
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]CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The hydrospanner slipped off the edge of the fighter’s hull without a sound, and fell about a metre before an invisible hand arrested its fall and brought the rebellious tool back into Anakin’s hand.
“Stupid thing,” Anakin muttered as he returned it to where he had first placed it on the fighter’s nose. “Would you just stay there, already?”
“It’s a tool, Anakin, not a pet dog.”
“Shut up, Zekk,” Anakin again poked his head and most of his right arm into the opening in the fighter’s back. He reached again for the power generator and again began to disconnect and reconnect different power cables and other wires. Once he had finished, he leaned back out and then reached into the fighter’s cockpit and turned the generator on.
Once again, the power came up at only one hundred and four percent.
“Oh, damn it all!” Anakin muttered through clenched teeth.
“No luck?” Zekk asked from beneath the fighter.
“No luck,” Anakin muttered. “I don’t think we’re ever going to get this working.”
“Should we even be bothering?” Zekk poked his head out from underneath the fighter so his voice wouldn’t be as muffled. “Tahiri’s right; we could have gotten two upgrades for the Scorcher up and running in the time we’ve spent on this thing.”
“Two Scorcher upgrades won’t be nearly as lethal as this baby,” Anakin said proudly as he affectionately patted his ship.
“Assuming we ever get it working.”
“Oh, would you shut up?” Anakin snapped. “You’re as bad as Tahiri!”
“Excuse me?” Zekk again poked his head out from beneath the fighter. “Oh… her mood swings have started, haven’t they?”
Anakin sighed, loudly. “She threatened to cut my head off yesterday because I screwed up her caf.”
Much to Anakin’s annoyance, Zekk laughed. “And we thought Danni was bad…”
“Zekk—.”
“Shut up, I know,” Zekk chuckled again before going back underneath the fighter. “Anakin, there’s no way we can get this thing working before we reach Bakura—.”
“A lot can be done in three hours, Zekk.”
“Not enough,” Zekk replied. “There’s probably more to Tahiri’s murderous tendencies than just hormones. You know that, right?”
“I know she doesn’t want me going into Bakura,” Anakin sighed again before returning to his work on the fighter’s power generator. “At the least, she wants to come with me.”
“You don’t want her to come?”
“What is it with you and all these questions all of a sudden?” Anakin brought his head back out from inside the fighter’s hull to gaze disapprovingly at Zekk. “I thought you preferred the straightforward approach.”
“Questions can work just as well as a pair of lightsabers.”
“And since when did you turn into a clone of Uncle Luke?”
Zekk’s answer wasn’t quite the one Anakin expected. “You miss him, don’t you?”
“I miss all of them, Zekk,” Anakin vented the anger and despair yet again arising inside his heart by turning the hydrospanner with a lot more power. In hindsight, he felt that mentioning Uncle Luke might not have been the best thing to do. “Can we drop the subject?”
“No problem.” Zekk pushed closed the panel he had been working on. “Well, we’re not getting any more power into those sabers. As it is, the power generator will overheat after ten minutes of combat. She won’t be able to go too far away from the Archangel during a battle.”
“She won’t need too,” Anakin said. “She’ll carve through any coralskippers that get too close like a lightsaber through stormtrooper armour. No pun intended.”
“Good; that was a rather bad one,” Zekk muttered. Anakin caught him casting a glance towards the two stormtroopers guarding the turbolift into the construction bay, and wondered himself whether the men took the comment personally.
“Anyway, enough for now,” Anakin sighed as he shut the panel he had opened to get at the generator and jumped down to the deck. “Tahiri and I still need to think of something to say to Kitty.”
“You’ll be fine,” Zekk said reassuringly as he clapped Anakin on the shoulder. “You’ve dealt with her before.”
“There wasn’t as much riding on it before,” Anakin replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just want this war to become history. I don’t want to bring up my kids in the middle of it.” He paused for a moment. “That is, of course, assuming that Tahiri and I will last that long.”
Anakin fully expected Zekk to come up with either a witty reassurance or a reminder of the fact that they were about to embark on the legendary quest for Zonama Sekot, but it didn’t come. Anakin didn’t figure out why until he spotted Jaina emerging from the turbolift. She shared a brief exchange with one of the stormtroopers before hurrying over to Anakin and Zekk.
“There you are, Anakin!” She exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for half an hour! We’re coming up on comm range with Bakura.”
“Why didn’t you just comm us?” Zekk asked.
“Neither of you have a commlink.”
“Oh… well…” Anakin nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I must have forgotten it.”
“And what’s your excuse?” Jaina asked of Zekk.
“Same as his,” Zekk said, cocking his head toward Anakin. “But, then again, you can’t yell at your lightsaber instructor, can you?”
“What?” Anakin’s eyes darted between his sister and Zekk. “Is there something going between you two I should know about?”
The glares that he got from both of them convinced Anakin that there indeed wasn’t anything going on between them.
“Zekk offered to bring me up to speed with your fighting styles,” Jaina explained. “I took him up on it, and, so far, I’ve got about three dozen bruises to show for it.”
“She’s good, though,” Zekk said. “She’d be able to show you a thing or two.”
“Really?” Anakin cocked an eyebrow at his sister. “We’ll just have to see about that.”
“If you insist. But, I’d rather kick your butt later,” Jaina sidestepped around her brother and cast an appreciative gaze at the fighter he had been working on. “First of all, what kind of fighter is this?”
“That is the MJ-S-01 Scimitar,” Anakin said proudly as he eyed his work. The Scimitar was, technically, an upgraded Scorcher fighter. The laser cannons on the front of the engine pods had been removed and replaced by two admittedly strange and boxy contraptions. To replace the lost firepower, dual laser cannons had been installed atop of and underneath each engine pod, providing a total of eight individual guns to use.
The boxy contraptions were what had Jaina’s attention, and what had taken Anakin months to develop. Each was an armoured hinge, attached to the two giant pieces of metal running back along the Scimitar’s engines and extending several metres out behind the fighter.
“Those are what we’ve been working on,” Anakin explained as Jaina walked up to the Scimitar and examined the large lengths of metal more closely.
“What are they?” Jaina asked, running her hand softly along the edge of the starboard blade.
“Laser-blades,” Anakin said with a shrug. “We couldn’t think of anything else to call them. In combat, whoever’s flying this thing will use them to carve coralskippers to shreds.”
“But wouldn’t the corals hit the shields first?”
“If they were up,” Anakin replied. “As soon as it detects a dovin basal trying to down its shields, the fighter’s computer will immediately drop the shields and shunt the energy from them into the blades. After that, all the pilot has to do is guide it in, and scratch one coralskipper.”
“Of course, the precise control that will be needed to make it work means that only Jedi will ever be able to pilot it,” Zekk said. “On top of that, those blades chew up massive amounts of power. Once she goes into combat mode, the Scimitar[i]’s power generator will overheat in ten minutes.”
“So it only has ten minutes of flight time?” Jaina asked incredulously. “That’s not much in a pitched battle.”
“Ten minutes of [i]combat time,” Anakin countered. “She can fly forever with the blades powered down.”
“I still don’t think these blades are going to work,” Jaina shook her head. “Whoever thought them up in the first place must be crazy. What if they don’t cut through their target?”
“Oh, they’ll cut, alright,” Anakin said in his ship’s defence. “First of all, they’re vibroblades, so they have more cutting power than a dead blade would. Second, we’ve built the blades like lightsabers. We had originally planned to build just a pair of giant lightsabers, but we couldn’t find a way to focus the blade properly. We’ve managed to build these so we can wrap a volatile shield around them. When they’re powered up, it looks like they’ve been coated in a layer of blue lightning. Looks pretty awesome. And, finally, the Scimitar can go into cruise speed like any other Scorcher. Those blades will have the kinetic power of a starfighter travelling at a decent fraction of lightspeed behind them.” Anakin smiled proudly. “In the simulators, she carved through a coralskipper like it was so much flimsiplast. She’ll work.”
“There’s only three problems,” Zekk said. “The first one, as we’ve already said, is that her generator overloads in ten minutes. Second, when she goes into attack mode, she chews up fuel like a hungry bantha. And the third problem kinda negates the first… you see, in the simulators, she can reduce corals to scrap with ease, but the blade’s shields always go out after the first hit.”
“Both of them?”
“No, just the one that does the hitting,” Anakin sighed. “The shield just can’t handle the impact, no matter what we do to it. In the sims, the shield generator overloads and fries. Irreparably. We just can’t make them stay stable during an impact.”
“Maybe I’ll give you a hand with it once we get back from Bakura,” Jaina said. “You never could build something and get to it work first time.”
“Hey! My lightsaber works just fine.”
“How many times did that take to get working?” Jaina asked.
“A few,” Anakin folded his arms indignantly across his chest. “Not that many.”
“Stop lying, Anakin,” Zekk said. “The amount of times you’ve had to rebuild that thing—.”
“That doesn’t count!” Anakin protested, pointing a warning finger at Zekk. As he did, he noticed that said finger wasn’t moving quite right. “Oh… not again.”
“What?” Jaina asked, watching with a slightly perplexed look as her brother used the Force to bring a toolkit over from underneath the Scimitar. Her look of confusion swiftly became one of shock when Anakin popped a small panel on the back of his left hand open and pulled out a small fusion torch and started working on the internal circuitry of his prosthetic hand.
“Your hands a fake?” Jaina spluttered. “What? How did that happen?”
“You mean it didn’t happen in your universe?” Zekk asked.
“If it had, would I be asking about it?” Jaina retorted, and then pointed her finger straight at Anakin’s prosthetic hand. “Now, Anakin, where and how did that happen?”
Anakin continued to work on the prosthetic’s inside as he explained. “It happened on Yavin. It was my fault.”
“What happened?” Jaina asked slowly.
“Tahiri cut my hand off,” Anakin said simply and bluntly, and then continued without giving Jaina a chance to interrupt. “You must know most of the story, so I’ll skip straight to the important bit; while I was trying to bring Tahiri back, she was holding my lightsaber to my neck. She almost took my head off. For a moment, though, she lowered the saber a little. When she did, I thought Tahiri was winning out against Riina, and I tried to touch her. Big mistake. She panicked and cut off my hand.”
“Oh.”
Anakin nodded, still working on his hand. “Yeah… on the bright side, hurting me finally gave Tahiri the extra push she needed to beat Riina, but she was apologising for weeks afterward. I got a normal prosthetic at first, but I lost it as well a few weeks ago. I built this one myself.”
“He builds everything he owns him himself,” Zekk muttered.
“Hey, don’t knock it!” Anakin said. “It might need re-calibrating every couple of months—.”
“Like I said earlier,” Jaina chimed in. “you never could get anything working first try.”
“—but this thing can stop an amphistaff,” Anakin continued. “It’s saved my butt more than once.”
“An amphistaff?” Jaina asked, reasonably impressed.
“That’s what you get when you build your hand out of salvaged starfighter armour, I guess,” Zekk said. “How long do we have before we hit comm range with Bakura?”
Jaina’s eyes lingered on her brother’s prosthetic left hand for a few more moments before she checked her chronometer. “A couple of minutes. You better get up to the bridge, Anakin.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Anakin singed one last circuit in his hand and closed the synthflesh-covered panel back over it. “Yannik will probably want us to leave soon after Tahiri and I contact Kitty, so you two should probably grab Valin and Danni and make sure the Jade Shadow’s ready to go.”
“Right,” Jaina said. “Good luck, Anakin.”
Anakin stood and, despite himself, rubbed the back of his neck again. “Yeah… with Kitty, I’m going to need it.”
Tahiri was already waiting for her husband when Anakin arrived on the Archangel’s bridge, standing between the crew pits and staring out of the forward viewports. Outside the Archangel, brilliant dots of white spotted a sheet of black around Bakura’s sun. At this relatively close range, Bakura’s sun was millions of times larger than the dots in the background of space, standing out like a raging inferno. The sight would have looked spectacular to someone, Anakin knew, but to him it was as bland as the deck beneath his feet. He had seen sights like these thousands of times, and, besides, sights like this sometimes reminded him of the momentary supernovas that he had witnessed as many a star destroyer was annihilated by the Vong.
As he approached, Anakin’s eyes fixated themselves on his wife’s back. The close proximity of Bakura’s sun was casting a layer of golden light on the entire bridge, and it turned Tahiri’s small, supple form into a golden-rimmed silhouette. Her hair seemed to glow with orange-gold fire, and there seemed, at least to Anakin, that there was a new radiance to the love of his life. Whether that was from the nearby star or just the fact that she was carrying Anakin’s children, he didn’t know.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he joined her. “You look a little lost in your own thoughts.”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. “I’ve already tried to comm Kitty twice. She’s either too busy to reply or—.”
“Her end of the comm isn’t working anymore,” Anakin finished morbidly. “That would be very, very bad.”
“Worrying about it isn’t going to help anything,” Tahiri said. “But, just in case, who else do we know that could get us into Bakura?”
“No one,” Anakin admitted. “At least no one who could get us in as quietly as Kitty could. In fact, the only other person on Bakura that I know we can trust would be Malinza.”
“Hmmm… so if Kitty doesn’t come through, we’re pretty well screwed.”
Anakin nodded. “So let’s hope she comes through for us. This once.”
“Hey, it wasn’t her fault she got called back to Bakura before we could make the pick-up the last couple of times. Give the poor woman some credit. It isn’t easy to get a Bakura-class star destroyer out of the system without being noticed.”
“Yeah, I know,” Anakin took his wife’s hand in his. “This is so much more important, though. If she can’t get us into Bakura, then it’s going to be next to impossible to track down Zonama Sekot. It’d be worse than trying to find a hydrospanner in a Tatooine desert.”
“At least Zonama Sekot isn’t going to get scavenged by a bunch of Jawas or Tuskens or stepped on by a Krayt Dragon.”
“No, but if we don’t find it, sooner or later Kharran will. And then we’ll really be screwed.”
Tahiri gently kissed her husband’s cheek. “She’ll come through, Anakin, and, even if she doesn’t, we’ll find a way in. We’ve had harder jobs.”
Anakin tried to be reassured by his wife’s words, he really did, but they just didn’t work. It would take months to find another way into Bakura. If they couldn’t get in touch with Kitty soon, they might not be able to get into the system before Kharran annihilated it.
“Knights Solo!”
Anakin and Tahiri turned towards the comm officer as one, instantly tuning out every other sound on the bridge and waiting expectantly for the young officer’s next statement.
“Transmission coming in from Bakura.”
“Yes!” Anakin growled, clenching his fist excitedly. “About time, Kitty!”
“It’s a private transmission,” the comm officer explained once Anakin and Tahiri had dashed over. “Do you want me to put it through to the captain’s ready room, or—?”
“No, just put it through out here,” Anakin instructed. “The crew already knows we’re close to Bakura. This won’t give away our exact coordinates.”
The officer nodded and quickly worked her controls. “Got it.”
“Kitty, my old friend!” Anakin beamed, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “How long has it been?”
“Not long enough…” Kitty’s voice had just enough sarcasm in it to render the comment harmless. “What do you want this time, Anakin?”
Anakin’s smile threatened to split his face in two. “It’s good to hear from you, too, Kitty.”
“Just cut to the chase, Anakin.”
“Alright,” Anakin paused for a moment. “We… need a lift.”
“A lift?”
“A lift.”
“Into Bakura, I presume?”
“Why else would we contact you?” Anakin asked. “Kitty, this is very important. We’ve come across some information that might just let us win the war.”
“Really?” Kitty laughed. “Anakin, we all know this galaxy is beyond saving. The Vong own ninety-percent of it, and what they don’t own is either deep space or dead rock.”
“This is different, Kitty,” Anakin said. “Look, it’ll take a long time to explain. Can you get us in, or not?”
“Yeah, I can get you in, but it’s going to be hard,” Kitty sighed. “The situation here has gotten a lot worse, recently.”
Tahiri leaned in closer to the console. “Define worse, Kitty.”
“Tahiri?” Kitty asked. “Where’d you come from?”
“I’ve been here the whole time.”
“And you stayed quiet?” The amount of surprise in Kitty’s voice brought a chuckle out of Anakin and a clumsily-concealed smile out of the comm officer. Tahiri pursed her lips as a light shade of embarrassed pink came to her cheeks.
“In any case,” Kitty continued after enough time had passed for Tahiri to make up a suitable comeback. “I had the rare privilege of transporting Admiral Ducaris to a meeting with Warmaster Kharran five days ago. The meeting went well, in that we weren’t killed on the spot, but we were given three ‘guests’ to take back to Bakura.”
“Spies?” Anakin asked.
“Why would Kharran need to send spies in?” Kitty retorted. “Kharran already has the Peace Brigade and who knows how many other collaborators. I think these three have been sent on a special assignment. To retrieve something for the Warmaster, perhaps, or maybe just to keep an eye on the Admiral and make sure he lives up to his end of whatever deal they made. The point is that Bakura doesn’t have very long to live, and everyone knows it. The military is preparing to defend against the invasion, and Kharran’s preparing to launch it.”
Anakin shook his head, marvelling at how amazingly stupid bureaucrats and politicians could be. They were kidding themselves if they thought for a moment that they would be able to hold off Kharran if the Warmaster decided that it was time they all died, and Anakin told Kitty as much.
“I know that, Anakin, and I am in the middle of making contingency plans,” Kitty said. “Your arrival might actually help that. We’ll talk more once you arrive. Same coordinates as last time, four days.”
“Right,” Anakin said. “Thanks, Kitty.”
“Don’t mention it,” Kitty sighed. “Happy to help.”
The comm channel went dead, and Anakin breathed a sigh of relief. “So far, so good,” he said to his wife. “We didn’t even have to bribe her.”
“We still don’t know if she’ll be able to get the Citadel out of the system,” Tahiri pointed out. “And, just because she didn’t ask for something now doesn’t mean she’s not going to ask for something later. I just hope you and the others don’t get caught between the Bakurans and Kharran when he launches his invasion.”
Anakin had to agree with her.
[end of chapter]
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Padawan of princess_of_naboo E-married to the amazing padawanlost Member of Charon_Force Beginning's End: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28450077&brd=10477&replies=1
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rebel_cheese
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RE: Shattered Mirror (Post-TUF, Major AU, J/J, A/T, Kyle, Danni )*RE-POST IN PROGRESS*
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The tattered air bus that Artran and Riina had opted to take into Bakura’s capital city had seen better days. Artran had known that before ever stepping aboard; the tattered, fading green paint had been his first clue, and the dents across the bulky vehicle’s entire chassis had been the next. The final clue had been the noise the flying scrapheap made when it took off. Its repulsorlifts had uttered a high-pitch squeal that sounded like two pieces of metal were being ground into each other, and its propulsion jets had threatened not to start at all. After several sickly-sounding splutters, though, the engines had miraculously come to life and the old bus had then limped from the starport into the outskirts of the Bakuran capital.
Artran couldn’t resist breathing a sigh of relief as soon as both of his feet were on the solid duracrete floor. Riina dropped down by his side, clearly as relieved to be on solid ground as her lover was. Artran cast a quick gaze at her and double-checked her disguise. Her holo-emitter had turned her normally golden hair a dull shade of brown and had removed all of the ceremonial scars that adorned her face, leaving her looking like any other human female. She had chosen to wear a knee-length white skirt and a form-hugging light-blue shirt. Artran had gone with grey jeans and a black shirt and jacket, and had altered his holo-emitter to remove his scars and change his hair from brown to solid black.
Satisfied that they were no longer in any danger from the scrap heap they had flown in on, the two spies cast a look at the starport they had arrived in. The walls had once been quite colourful, but now what colour was still there was faded almost to the point of non-existence, leaving only the stone grey of the duracrete below to entertain visitors to the planet. The personal landing bays were to the right of where the airbus had parked itself, guarded by two dozen soldiers and half that number of security droids. The larger freighters were landing in a series of massive docking ports to the left. Hundreds of refugees were trying to make their way through to the customs checkpoints, guarded by dozens of soldiers, but Artran doubted if any of the refugees would get through. The Bakuran government was letting fewer and fewer people in from off-planet these days, which was why Artran and Riina had opted to have the Bakuran military land them in a smaller city and then catch a transport into the capital.
The gambit paid off quite nicely; Artran and Riina were ushered along towards the customs checkpoints along with the other airbus passengers, wary soldiers watching their every move, looking for any hint that one of them might be a Yuuzhan Vong spy. Artran and Riina gave them none, and soon they and the other passengers were being processed through customs.
The trip through was simple enough; the two spies presented their backpacks for inspection and stepped through the DNA scanners and, once the scanners had decided that Artran and Riina indeed were human, retrieved their backpacks and stepped up to the registration officer, a middle-aged and very bored Twi’lek.
“Names?” he asked dryly.
“Arka Zaarlen,” Artran said crisply, cocking his head towards Riina. “And this is my sister, Rennyri.”
“Purpose of visit?”
“Why does anyone come to Bakura these days?” Artran shrugged. “Trying to get away from the Vong.”
“More refugees, just what we needed.” The Twi’lek muttered contemptuously. He punched a few commands into his console. “How long are you staying?”
“Until we can get a ship,” Riina said. “We’ve got enough credits for one; we just need to find someone who’s willing to sell.”
“Good luck with that. Ships are more valuable than people around here,” the Twi’lek muttered. “You’re clear, now get moving.”
“This is almost too easy,” Riina whispered as she and Artran moved out of the starport and stopped at the street. Speeders were running up and down it, occasionally parking to either deposit or pick up passengers. Most of the speeders were simple civilian models, but the occasional military transport could be seen. The sidewalks were taken up by hundreds of sentients from dozens of species, some of which Artran had never seen before.
“Getting in was always going to be easy,” Artran replied. “Getting out is where things are going to get difficult.”
Riina watched a few more ground speeders fly past before she started walking down the street. Artran walked at her side. “We should probably start by checking out the records at the starport where she came in,” she said.
“It’s on the other side of the city, unfortunately,” Artran pointed out. He cast a gaze towards the street again, eyeing out some of the parked vehicles. “We’ll need transportation.”
Riina shook her head. “We can’t steal a speeder. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves.”
Artran pursed his lips and cast his gaze beyond the speeders at the buildings behind. They were all several stories tall, and all of them looked as if they hadn’t been properly cleaned or maintained in months. Graffiti had been tattooed across every square inch of ground-floor wall, and half of the windows were either broken outright or shoddily repaired. A few more months, Artran thought, and this place will just fall apart on its own.
“We need somewhere to stay before we can think about finding the girl,” Artran said. “Unless, of course, sleeping on the street appeals to you?”
Riina’s lack of a response was enough of an indication that something was wrong, so when Artran’s danger sense suddenly pricked, he reacted instantly, whirling around and drawing the blaster pistol concealed in his jacket and aiming it straight at the face of the person tailing him and Riina.
“A blaster?” The middle-aged human asked, rasing his hands in surrender. He wore simple clothes; brown trousers with a dark cream shirt with the top button undone. His chestnut hair was looked as casual as his clothes. “Aren’t the people upstairs going to be a little upset that you’re holding one of those?” he asked.
He knows who we are, Artran thought. Perfect, just perfect. “Who are you?”
“Commander Denn Jerrevickk,” The human replied. “Peace Brigade.”
Artran lowered his blaster a fraction, but didn’t return it to its holster. Peace Brigade… wait a minute, he’s the officer that Ducaris brought with him onto the Sunslayer! “Peace Brigade, huh? Why were you with Admiral Ducaris aboard the Sunslayer?”
Jerrevickk’s eyebrows rose fraction. “You were there?”
“Our commander prefers to have his agents well-informed,” Riina replied, carefully avoiding anything that could be taken as a reference to the Yuuzhan Vong. Artran knew immediately that she felt that Jerrevickk could be useful to them, and, since she was better as sensing such things than thim, he reluctantly flicked the blaster around his finger and returned it to his holster.
“Well, whatever,” Jerrevickk shrugged and took a few steps towards the spies. “I’m just going to cut to the chase. I’m Peace Brigade, and you’re of a, how shall we say, similar affiliation, right?”
Artran nodded.
“I know why you’re here, of course,” Jerrevickk continued. “I gave your ‘commander’ the holo-image you no doubt have on you right now. I intend to help you find your objective. Now, please, come. I’ve arranged for transportation to your apartment.”
Jerrevickk tapped a commlink on his belt, and a few moments later a sleek, fully-enclosed black speeder pulled up beside him. The side door hissed open softly, and the Peace Brigadier motioned for Artran and Riina to enter, which the two spies did. The speeder’s crimson interior reminded Artran somewhat of his vonduun crab armour suit. The driver was separated from the passengers by a tinted sheet of transparesteel, which was presumably as hard to hear through as it was to see through.
“You are taking quite a risk here,” Artran said as he and Riina took the seats on the opposite side of the car from the divider. “We might have killed you for even suggesting that we travel in a speeder.”
“I actually intended to walk you to the apartment I’ve had my men arrange,” Jerrevickk replied, tapping on the transparesteel between him and the driver as he took his seat. A few moments later, the speeder had entered the general traffic and was quietly slipping between lanes as it made its way through Bakura’s capital. “Once you pulled the blaster, I assumed that you weren’t the most… religious Yuuzhan Vong around.”
Artran allowed himself a smile and gazed out of the window, absent-mindedly noting the different species of aliens he saw on the footpaths. “You could say that, Commander. Or do you have a different rank in the Peace Brigade?”
“No, it’s still Commander,” Jerrevickk said. The Peace Brigadier casually leaned back into his seat, completely unintimidated by the two spies sitting in front of him. It was strangely refreshing for Artran to finally deal with someone who wouldn’t cower in fear every time he looked at him. “I’ve been in the Bakuran Military for some time, actually. I only joined the Peace Brigade, oh, eighteen months ago.”
“You’d get charged with treason if your superiors found out about that,” Riina observed.
Jerrevickk shrugged. “Worth the risk. I prefer to be on the winning side.”
Artran finally returned his gaze to the Commander. “Where is this apartment you’ve arranged for us?”
“Near the starport where Jysella Horn arrived,” Jerrevickk said. “I figured that you would probably like to start your search for the Jedi brat there. You’ll find the apartment full with everything you could possibly need for this assignment. I was going to have my men clear it of all technology if you turned out to be the fanatical kind of Vong, but now I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“It won’t,” Artran assured him, returning his gaze to the city outside of the travelling speeder. In particular, he took careful note of every human child the speeder passed on its trip. The odds against it were staggering, but if Jysella Horn just happened to be on one of the streets they passed, Artran could end this mission here and now and get on with wiping this pitiful planet out.
“Have you been able to discover the identity of the woman in the holo-image?” Riina asked of Jerrevickk.
“No,” the Peace Brigadier replied. “She was wearing very ordinary and very common clothes, and she was very careful not to allow her face to be seen by any of the holo-cameras. We don’t know anything about her.”
Because you’re not looking at it the right way, Artran thought to himself. The security cameras at any starport—at least, at all of the starports Artran had seen—were strategically placed to cover any part of the building. It was almost impossible to avoid being spotted by at least one. The fact that this woman was able to pull that off told Artran that, first of all, she had access to a detailed map of the starport, and that she was also quite intelligent. You would have to be to pull something off that well.
To have access to a detailed map of a military-controlled installation like a starport, you would have to either be a very skilled hacker or a military officer yourself. Artran found the second option more likely; the Bakurans would no doubt have noticed if someone hacked into their system, even if said hacker was good enough to get in and out without being caught. She would also need to be well-informed to be able to find out that Jysella Horn was on a transport inbound to Bakura, and she would also more than likely be a friend of the Jedi.
That gave Artran a number of parameters to work with. The woman who currently had Jysella was a military officer, had good contacts, and was also a friend of the Jedi knights. There wouldn’t be that many people on Bakura who fit that list.
“We already have another agent in the Bakuran military headquarters,” Artran said. “Can you arrange for him to have full access to the database there?”
“You don’t trust me to do your research?” Jerrevickk asked.
“To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t trust you as far as I could throw you,” Artran replied. “Arrange for our friend in the military headquarters to have access to the database, and we’ll work from there.”
“As you wish,” Jerrevickk replied with an uncaring shrug. “It’s up to you how you accomplish this mission. I’m just here to assist.” As the commander spoke, the speeder slid to a gentle halt in front of a three-story building. “We’re here,” Jerrevickk said as he opened the door and stepped onto the footpath. Artran and Riina followed.
The section of the city Artran and Riina had been brought to was much better maintained than the part of the city the starport had been built in. The apartment building in front of them looked rather expensive, with a red and gold striped canopy overhanging the entrance, exotic plants decorating each windowsill, and a well-dressed Rodian bouncer at the entrance for added effect. Jerrevickk walked right past the bouncer and into the hotel’s interior.
The lobby consisted of a lot of red wood and an assortment of other colours here and there. Jerrevickk led Artran and Riina up to the reception desk and spoke briefly with the receptionist. The receptionist provided Jerrevickk with the key to Artran and Riina’s apartment, and then the Peace Brigadier led the two Yuuzhan Vong spies to the small cluster of turbolifts to the right of the lobby. Artran kept a careful eye on his surroundings; he refused to trust Jerrevickk in any sense of the word, and was on the lookout for any signs of deception and treachery. Nothing happened on the short walk from the reception desk to the turbolifts, and Jerrevickk still hadn’t pulled anything when the turbolift stopped on the third floor and he led them down the corridor to room one-hundred and forty-five.
The room itself was surprisingly bland, with lots of cream and no indication that someone had put an effort into decorating the room. It was probably a wise move for the owner to make; putting any sense of style into the room opened the possibility that someone would dislike it. Having minimal decorations and a neutral colour covering the walls ensured that most of the guests would at least not find the room utterly repulsive.
“We couldn’t smuggle any Yuuzhan Vong food into the place,” Jerrevickk noted, almost mockingly, from the doorway as Riina opened and examined the contents of the refrigeration unit. “You’ll have to make do with what’s there.”
Artran said nothing and left Riina to her explorations of the kitchen while he checked both bedrooms. The single beds inside looked very, very soft. His bed back on the Sunslayer would leave any human writhing in agony most of the night. It would be a very strange experience to sleep on a soft matress.
“Are the rooms acceptable?” Jerrevickk inquired.
“They’ll be fine,” Artran said smugly. “How long is it going to take for you to arrange access to the military database for our friend in the headquarters?”
“A day or two,” Jerrevickk said. “Until then, you may want to take a look at the starport our Jedi brat arrived through. I assume that you know how to drive a speeder?”
Artran nodded.
“There’s one waiting in the hotel’s hangar, then,” Jerrevickk pulled a datacard out of his pocket and tossed it to Artran. “That’s got the access code you’ll have to give the receptionist to be allowed access to the hangar, and it also has the speeder’s ignition code. Good luck.”
The Peace Brigadier stepped back out of the doorway and let the door hiss shut in front of him, leaving Artran and Riina to themselves.
“I don’t trust him,” was the first thing Artran said.
“You don’t trust anybody,” Riina retorted.
Artran took his gaze away from the closed door and cast an appreciative look over Riina’s slim, supple form as she pulled a bottle of purple liquid out of the refrigeration unit. “Well…” he said. “I trust you.”
Riina took a gulp of whatever the liquid inside the bottle was and then smiled at Artran. “At your own risk, Artran.”
“I thought we agreed to use our undercover names at all times, Rennyri.”
Riina shrugged. “Is it my fault you chose one so similar to your real name?”
“I was trying to make it easier for you to remember it,” Artran said, moving to the window of their apartment and gazing down at the teeming mass of people on the streets below. There were so many different species that it was hard to distinguish one from the other; they all just seemed to blend into one massive sea of life.
“Are you sure we should wipe this planet out?” Riina asked as she joined Artran at the window. “It could serve as a nice place to start once we drive the Vong into the dirt.”
“Until we get a chance to eliminate Shimrra, we need to make like good little soldiers,” Artran replied, taking the bottle from Riina’s hand and examining the contents. “How does this stuff taste?”
“Better than it looks,” Riina confessed, sliding in closer to Artran. The Warmaster levitated the bottle onto the small table in the middle of the combined lounge and dining room and slid his hands onto her waist as she kissed him.
Artran let the kiss linger for a while, until Riina finally pulled back. Artran gazed at her for a few seconds, looking straight through her holo-shroud, noting each of her Domain Kharran scars, and then looked over her shoulder at the bedroom behind her. No matter what happened, finding Jysella Horn was going to take several days. There’d be plenty of time to check out the starport later. For now, Artran couldn’t find anything wrong with the idea of—
“Come on, we better go check out this starport,” Riina said, interrupting Artran’s thought mid-fantasy. Artran’s eyes lingered on the bedroom door for a few more seconds before he finally admitted to himself that Riina was a little more interested in the mission than she was in sharing an intimate moment with him, and that he probably should probably be thinking more of the mission, too. So, with a rather disappointed sigh, he pulled the data card Jerrevickk had given them out of his pocket and followed Riina out of the apartment.
The starport was, as expected, quite easy to find. The information on Artran and Riina’s seven-year-old Jedi prey was a little harder, but far easier than Artran had expected it would have been. The officer on duty at the information terminal just happened to be a young human male, and it was rather a simple thing for Riina to flirt a little information out of him. Artran waited at the speeder, leaning against the door and watching through the mingling crowds as Riina worked as much information as possible out of the information officer.
Artran couldn’t help but feel a jealous streak rise up in his chest as he watched his girlfriend work. It was an interesting sensation. It was impossible for Yuuzhan Vong to feel love as most species of this galaxy defined it, but Artran and Riina weren’t exactly your ordinary Yuuzhan Vong. They thought like Yuuzhan Vong—well, they had at one stage—but that was where the similarity began and ended. For one thing, Artran hated the Vong. Hated every last one of them.
He hated them because they had tried to create him and Riina as little more than slaves to the Supreme Overlord. But he and Riina had broken free of that, killed those directly responsible, and now they were going to kill the rest of the Vong.
Well… maybe not kill them…
By now, Riina had finished with the poor young man at the information terminal and was making her way back to the speeder. Artran watched her, inhaling deeply as he felt an irresistible tide of love and affection fill his heart and soul. Out of all the tings that had been forced onto him by that accursed Force-link, this was the one thing that Artran liked. He enjoyed the calm that swept over him whenever he looked at Riina, the electric jolt he felt every time she touched him, and the unbelievable ecstasy that erupted each time they kissed.
In fact, he more than liked it.
He loved it.
“Did you get anything?” He asked as Riina joined him in leaning against the speeder’s side.
“Yes and no,” was her answer. “She came in on the refugee ship Emerald Starlight two weeks ago, like Jerrevickk told us.”
“Who arranged for her trip in?” Artran asked.
“Davras Arkol. The woman who was supposed to pick the brat up was called Arylla Li’vash.” Riina replied. “I’d say their fake names.”
“Agreed,” Artran said, slightly annoyed at the new development. This trip was beginning to look like a complete waste of valuable time. “Did you find anything useful?”
Riina smiled. “She used a rented speeder.”
Artran’s smile mirrored Riina’s. “A rental? Well, well… our little Jedi babysitter tried to cover her tracks too well. Do you know its make and model?”
Riina pulled a datacard out of her pocket and proudly held it up for Artran to look at. “All we have to do is check around for a place that rented out that kind of speeder two weeks ago.”
Artran smiled and opened the speeder’s door. “Alright, let’s go,” he said as he got in and powered the vehicle up, running his hands over the strange, yet familiar controls.
“How do you know what you’re doing?” Riina asked as she got into the passenger seat.
“I don’t,” Artran admitted as he slipped the speeder into the bustling traffic. “I just guess he does.”
Riina chuckled at first, and then, suddenly, she burst into full-blown laughter.
“What is it?” Artran asked, unsure whether to be embarrassed or amused.
“Nothing,” Riina replied. “Just that, a couple of months ago, you would have killed someone for even suggesting that you ride in one of these things, let alone drive it.”
Artran’s laughter joined Riina’s as he considered the truth in her statement. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he chuckled softly, but his laughter stopped, very suddenly, when he remembered why that was. He glared contemptibly at his left hand for a few moments, sighed, and then said, “I’ll have to thank Solo for that before I kill him.”
[end of chapter]
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Padawan of princess_of_naboo E-married to the amazing padawanlost Member of Charon_Force Beginning's End: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28450077&brd=10477&replies=1
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rebel_cheese
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RE: Shattered Mirror (Post-TUF, Major AU, J/J, A/T, Kyle, Danni )*RE-POST IN PROGRESS*
- Date Edited:
8/1/06 12:00pm (2 edits total)
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rebel_cheese
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CHAPTER NINETEEN
The hangar was bustling with activity in preparation for the Jade Shadow’s departure. Technicians were swarming around the ship, double-checking and triple-checking and, in some cases, quadruple-checking every last system, from the engines to the guns to the cargo hold lighting. A smaller group of technicians were preparing the Shadow’s four-ship Scorcher escort, the first flight of Jag’s Angel squadron.
Jaina hadn’t been surprised to learn that Jag intended to lead the Scorcher escorts himself. At the moment, her fiancé was double-checking his machine while she did the same to the Jade Shadow’s primary systems. So far, she had been through the guns, shields, and life-support, and now she was doing a final check on the Shadow’s fourth engine.
She knew that Jag was casting glances at her every time the opportunity presented itself, which made Jaina slightly self-conscious. After all, she had oil and grease all over her, all of which would require a lengthy shower aboard the Shadow to remove. She had wanted to say goodbye to Jag in a somewhat clean state, but the incompetence of the technicians had put an end to that little fantasy. Jaina didn’t want to go into a potential battle-zone with a ship that wouldn’t do what Jaina told it to do, and, having been away from the loving care of Aunt Mara for so long, the Jade Shadow would have been a perfect example of such a ship. It still sported several scars from a previous mission, and the rushed modifications that Anakin and/or the technicians had been forced to perform had left the poor ship looking more like the Millennium Falcon than the signature vessel of an ex-assassin turned Jedi master.
But, as Anakin had proudly boasted after Jaina made the Falcon wisecrack, the Shadow would now be able to obliterate the Falcon in a straight fight. It now sported four quad lasers, two missile launchers, and a very powerful, if ugly, prow turbolaser, and it was still fast enough to keep up with the Falcon in sublight or hyperspace travel. Jaina wasn’t convinced that the sacrifices in maneuvering power and aesthetics in general validated such ‘upgrades’, but Anakin and the others seemed to, so Jaina was content to simply try and fix what she could. After all, even though Anakin wasn’t completely incompetent when it came to starship design, his specialty was and always had been droids, and there was a large difference between a tiny astromech droid and a heavy-combat gunship like the Jade Shadow.
“Nearly finished?”
Jaina gritted her teeth and forced the last conduit back into place, seemingly ignoring her fiancé. She had sensed Jag’s approach before he had even started it, but hearing his voice and knowing that he was standing right behind her still brought a smile to her face.
“Now I am,” she said as she closed the access panel and turned, trying to backhand some grease off her cheek. If anything, all it did was make the smear more pronounced. “I don’t look too ridiculous, do I?”
“You look beautiful.”
“Liar.”
Jag’s response was to smile and kiss her, ignoring the dark smears her hair left on his fingers and the dirty splotches that rubbed from her jacket onto his flightsuit. He even ignored the fact that kissing her left black engine coolant over his cheek and lips, which, for the crisp and clean military officer, was quite surprising.
“Sorry, Jag,” Jaina said sheepishly once they parted, gazing at the dark splotches on his face.
“I’m climbing into a cockpit in a few minutes, anyway,” he said uncaringly with a shrug for added emphasis. “I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye, anyway.”
“A simple ‘good luck’ over the comm would have sufficed,” Jaina pointed out.
“No, it wouldn’t have.” Jag kissed her again before he finished his sentence. “You’ll be careful on Bakura, won’t you?”
“I can look after myself, Jag.”
“I know that!” Jag protested. “But I didn’t ask you to marry me just so you could go and get yourself killed during a Vong attack.”
Jaina rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I promise to be extra careful.”
Jag smiled and allowed himself another kiss before he let Jaina go and tried unsuccessfully to wipe some of the grease off his cheek. “That’s good enough for me. I love you, Jaina.”
“I love you too, Jag,” Jaina replied before she retrieved her commlink from the toolbox on the floor and called Anakin. “Hey, Anakin, the engines are fixed. We can leave whenever we want.”
“You better get up here, then. We’ll leave in a couple of minutes.”
“Right.” Jaina turned her commlink off and attached it to her belt. “We’ll, now we get to see if all of this is going to end up being worth it.”
“You’ll find Sekot, Jaina,” Jag assured her. “Or, at least, you’ll find out where it is so I can run in and claim all the glory.”
“Stuck up fighter-jock.”
“Superstitious wizard.”
“Mocetan Teal.”
“Owwww,” Jag moaned in fake hurt, flinching for added effect. “Now that one hurt.”
Jaina just smiled and kissed him.
Inside his cabin aboard the Jade Shadow, Valin Horn was trying to get some sleep. He had spent most of the night before awake with Wynssa, trying to soothe one nightmare after the other. That, however, was usual, and Valin had long ago gotten used to operating on five hours or less sleep a night.
But that wasn’t what was keeping him awake.
He just knew something bad was going to happen on this mission to find Zonama Sekot, and Valin knew that he was going to be the reason why it went bad. The little monster was going to make him sell his friends out, or, worse, it was going to make him kill them all personally. The best case scenario for the mission was that someone would see that Valin was about to turn on them and then kill him before he hurt anyone.
A sharp pain erupted in the back of Valin’s neck as the little monster tried to correct his thinking. The best case scenario was that Valin would kill all of the Jeedai scum before they could do anything that might damage the Yuuzhan Vong or their interests.
Valin was in no condition to fight it, so he just agreed and let the pain fade away, snuggling into his pillow as if he were merely suffering from a bad dream.
“Valin?”
Valin reluctantly opened one eye and looked at the young woman kneeling next to his bed. “Wynssa?” he asked groggily. “Shouldn’t you be getting your Scorcher ready to fly?”
“I wanted to come say goodbye,” she replied softly.
“This’ll be the third time, Wynssa,” Valin sighed sleepily, closing his eye again.
“Valin…”
He didn’t need to open his eye to know that Wynssa had pulled out her ultimate weapon; tears. Whenever Wynssa’s eyes watered up and she put on that sad pout, it was like someone had just hypnotized Valin and placed him under his girlfriend’s complete control.
Being thus hypnotized, Valin’s only course of action was to close his eye for and lament his sleep deprivation for a moment before ignoring the numerous protests from his tired body and forcing himself to sit up. Having done so, he waited for Wynssa to happily sit next to him and snuggle up against his side.
“You really don’t want me to go, do you?” Valin asked after he was sure Wynssa was comfortable.
Wynssa’s contented smile faded. “Is it that obvious?” she moaned.
“Well, I am a Jedi, remember?” Valin joked. “And, if that wasn’t enough, I am your boyfriend. It’s my job to know what you want. And you don’t want me to go on this mission.”
“Of course I don’t!” Wynssa moaned.
“Alright, what is it?” Valin asked, cradling his girlfriend in his arms. “Why don’t you want me to go?”
“Valin…” Wynssa began. “Valin… I… ah…”
“Just say it, Wyn.”
“Because I can’t lose you, Valin!” Wynssa screamed, tears flowing from her big, beautiful sapphire eyes. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane! The only reason I can ever get to sleep at night is because I know you’ll always be there to help me out of a nightmare, to comfort me when I wake up, to hold me and tell me you love me and that everything’s alright. And you’re the only person on the whole ship who treats like a real person. Everyone else either ignores me or just feels sorry for me.”
Valin sighed. In a lot of ways, his beloved girlfriend was still the same tortured, traumatized fifteen-year-old Anakin, Tahiri, and Zekk had brought back from Myrkr, and she would more than likely stay that way for the rest of her life. It was, Valin realized, one of the reasons why he loved her so much.
“Wynssa,” he said softly, intimately, gently cradling her crying form. “I’ll come straight back, I promise. Zonama Sekot in tow.”
“The last time you said something like that, you were just about to go rescue Jysella,” Wynssa whispered into Valin’s shirt.
Valin bit his lip. He was lying to Wynssa by promising her that he was coming back. If it was going to be coming back to the Archangel at all, it was going to be as a lightsaber-burned corpse. But the little monster refused to let Valin just come clean with the woman he loved, and Valin almost thanked it for that. It was going to be hard enough on Wynssa when Anakin and the others told her that Valin was a traitor. It would be even worse if Valin was the one to do it.
“Wyn, I love you. Don’t ever forget that,” Valin said. “And I will come back. One way or the other, I will come back.”
“Promise?” she whimpered.
Valin gently pried her face off his chest and kissed her. “Promise.”
Wynssa smiled weakly, kissed him, and then snuggled down into his arms. She would have stayed there forever, had the Jade Shadow’s engines not rumbled to life. Valin winced, trying to will the engines to overload or burn-out or otherwise screw up so he’d be able to enjoy his last hug with Wynssa.
“Anakin must be getting the Shadow ready for take off,” Valin said sadly. “You better get to your Scorcher.”
Wynssa sniffled and slowly wormed her way out of Valin’s embrace. She stood without a word and would have sulked all the way to her Scorcher had Valin not caught her hand as she took the first step towards the door, spun her around, and kissed her again.
“I love you, Wyn,” he said, masking his guilt as best he could. “I always will.”
Wynssa averted her eyes from his, sighing sadly. “You just make sure you come back, Valin. I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.”
Valin smiled and barely managed to suppress an amused chuckle. “That’s kinda redundant, don’t you think?”
“Just come back,” Wynssa murmured. “You better get back to sleep. I don’t want you to screw up and get a blaster bolt through your chest because you were too tired after looking after me.”
“Whatever you want, Wyn,” Valin rang his fingers over her cheek and put a loving kiss on the tip of her nose before he finally let her leave.
The sound of the bunk door closing was like the sound of his coffin being sealed to Wynssa. She just knew that he was going to come back hurt or worse… dead. The last time he left to go on a mission like this was when he and his parents went after Jysella, and that had turned out horribly. Not only was Jysella never found, but Corran and Mirax, who had both treated Wynssa as their own daughter, were both killed. On top of that, Valin was badly injured, stranded on a Vong-occupied world, and left there for almost a week while the Archangel tried to rescue him. That week had been one of the worst of Wyn’s life. Every night, she had endured nightmare after nightmare, not about Myrkr, but about finding Valin’s broken, mutilated body lying on the ground on some forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere. She knew that she was going to get similar nightmares for the entire duration of Valin’s absence from the Archangel.
For a few moments, Wyn entertained the thought of going back into Valin’s room to try and convince him to stay on the Archangel with her, but she refused to act on it. Valin would never agree to abandon his friends like that, and he’d hate Wyn for even suggesting it.
Resigned to the fact that she was going to have to endure a week of endless misery, Wynssa began to trudge her way towards the Archangel’s boarding ramp. Tears fell from her eyes with every step, and she felt very cold and alone all of a sudden. If Valin didn’t come back from Bakura, she’d feel cold and alone for the rest of her life.
More likely, she wouldn’t very much ever again, because Valin’s death would send her so far over the edge into insanity that the medics would have no choice but to keep her sedated most of the time.
The sound of boots clanging on the Shadow’s boarding ramp finally brought Wyn’s eyes up from her feet. In front of her, Zekk was boarding the ship, dressed in the traditional brown and tan Jedi robes and with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He took one look at Wyn, saw the tears rolling down her face, and then offered her his shoulder to cry on.
She didn’t really cry on his shoulder; he was so tall that she ended up crying into his chest. He put one arm around her, holding her so that Valin wouldn’t get the wrong idea if he picked this moment to come out of his bunk.
“You’re scared he won’t come back,” Zekk said. Wynssa nodded, loosing more tears. “Wynssa, Valin can look after himself. He’s not stupid.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Wynssa whimpered, wiping tears away from her eyes and pulling away from Zekk. “Thanks, Zekk. I needed that.”
“No problem,” Zekk said, lifting her chin with his hand. “I’ll look after him for you. I promise.”
Wynssa smiled, happy that someone was trying to make her feel better. And it did make her feel better, knowing that someone other than Valin knew how worried she was, and was going to try and stop her nightmares coming true. Still… “You’ll be too busy trying to get in good with Danni.”
Zekk’s face turned very serious. “I’m not going to try and make a move on Danni,” he stated.
“Zekk, everyone knows that you like her,” Wynssa said, her voice still shaky. “Even she knows that you like her.”
“Everyone also knows that she’s still reeling from Kyp’s death,” Zekk countered. “He only died three months ago, Wynssa. It would be cruel and unfair to expect her to get over the death of her husband that quickly. I might say something to her one day, but… but not for a long, long time.”
“I think she’d be happy with you,” Wynssa said.
“You might be right,” Zekk sighed contemplatively. “I hope you’re right. But, we’ll have to wait and see. Now, come on, you better get to our Scorcher. Jag’ll throttle you if you miss the launch.”
“Right,” Wynssa tried to wrap her arms around Zekk’s broad torso as best as she could. “Thanks, Zekk. Please keep Valin safe for me.”
“You have my word, Wyn. Now go get to your ship.”
Wyn did as she was told, wiping away the last few tears that still remained on her face. She felt a lot better knowing that Zekk was going to be watching over Valin for her. It wouldn’t keep her from worrying about him, but it would give her the comfort of knowing that she wasn’t the only one doing so.
The Jade Shadow launched without a hitch, as did its four-ship Scorcher escort. The jump to hyperspace was just as uneventful, and the pilots of all five ships allowed themselves to relax once they were safely in hyperspace.
Anakin had, of course, flown the Shadow for the short trip out of the Archangel’s hangar bay and into hyperspace. Valin was down in one of the bunks, trying to catch up on some sleep he had lost caring for Wynssa. Jaina was taking a shower in an attempt to rid herself of the grease and coolant staining her face and hair. Zekk had briefly visited the cockpit before going elsewhere, and Anakin didn’t know what he was up to. Danni was the only other person in the cockpit with Anakin, and she seemed to be studying Anakin rather intently from her place in the co-pilot’s seat.
“Is something wrong, Danni?” Anakin asked when her stare started to get a little uncomfortable for him.
“You seem troubled,” Danni replied. “What’s up?”
Anakin considered his response for a few moments before he said, as respectfully as possible, “Nothing you can help with.”
“It’s about Tahiri, isn’t it?” Danni inquired. “Mood swings starting to set in?”
“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”
“What did I do to deserve that?” Danni asked. “I’m only trying to be friendly.”
“I know, Danni. There’s nothing wrong,” Anakin lied. In truth, there indeed was something wrong with Tahiri, but it was of a very personal nature, and Anakin didn’t feel comfortable discussing it with Danni, or anyone else for that matter. Not without Tahiri’s consent.
Danni shrugged and returned her attention to the Shadow’s controls. “It’ll take us only a few minutes to reach Kitty’s rendezvous coordinates. Can you handle things by yourself?”
“Why?” Anakin asked as Danni undid her crash restraints and headed to the cockpit door.
“I think the little one’s hungry again,” Danni said affectionately, rubbing her bulging stomach. “I’m going to go get a snack from the supplies.”
“Just make sure it’s a snack, not a four-course meal!” Anakin called after her as the door hissed open. “Sithspit,” he muttered to himself. “I sure hope Tahiri doesn’t start eating that much.”
“You obviously don’t remember what Aunt Mara was like,” Jaina commented suddenly.
“What? You heard me?” Anakin spluttered sheepishly. “Did Danni—?”
“No, she didn’t,” Jaina said as she took the recently vacated co-pilot’s seat, trying to shake the last few bits of moisture out of her damp hair. “I’m surprised that this thing made it into hyperspace with all the damage you’ve done to it.”
Anakin’s insulted pride flowed into his voice. “Damage? What damage?”
“Anakin, Aunt Mara wouldn’t even recognise this thing after everything you’ve done to it.”
“We don’t have the time or the supplies to do every modification to the specifications Aunt Mara would have liked!” Anakin snapped back at his sister.
“Anakin, I was kidding,” Jaina said in her own defence. “I’m only saying that, if Aunt Mara saw what you’ve done with her ship, she’d kill you.”
“Yeah, she would,” Anakin said as he caressed the Shadow’s controls. “You know, I can almost feel Aunt Mara’s presence in here, sometimes. Uncle Luke, too.”
“You miss them a lot, don’t you?” Jaina asked gently.
Anakin nodded sadly. “When Uncle Luke died, it finally made me realise that we’d lost the war. That there was nothing we could do to stop the Vong,” he looked affectionately at his sister. “And then you and Jag showed up.”
“We’ve still got to find Sekot,” Jaina reminded him. “Where are the others?”
“Zekk’s doing something somewhere, Valin’s asleep in one of the bunks—.”
“Asleep? Why?”
“He didn’t get much sleep last night,” Anakin said. “Spent the whole night looking after Wynssa, as usual.”
“Do you think she’ll ever be okay?” Jaina asked. “I mean, really okay?”
Anakin sighed sadly. “If you mean, do you I think she’ll ever be normal again, then no. I think she and Valin are going to have to deal with those nightmares and… certain other emotional scars for the rest of her life.”
Jaina didn’t say anything in return, and turned her attention towards the Jade Shadow’s system monitors.
“Is something wrong?” Anakin inquired.
“I’m not sure,” Jaina replied. “I keep thinking of what’s going to happen if we ever find a way to go back.”
“What do you mean?”
Jaina inhaled deeply, running her words through her mind before she spoke them. “Anakin, if we ever do find a way to send Jag and I back to our universe… I don’t know if I’d want to go back.”
“What? Why wouldn’t you want to go back?”
“Jag mentioned this to me last night,” Jaina explained. “How long do you think it will take you to find a way to send us back?”
“As long as it takes—.”
“Anakin, how long will it be before this galaxy can afford to devote any amount of funds or technology to finding a way to send Jag and I back?” Jaina interrupted. “By then, we’ll probably be married with a couple of kids—.”
“A couple?”
“We’ll see,” Jaina stopped her pre-flight checks and looked at her brother. “My point is that Jag and I probably won’t ever get to see home again.”
A sad frown spread across Anakin’s face as the pain in Jaina’s voice reached him. He would probably—no, definitely be feeling the same thing if their situations were reversed and he was in Jaina’s universe. Granted, most of his family was alive over there, but from what he had heard about Tahiri being half Tahiri, half Riina, he didn’t think he’d be able to stand living in Jaina’s universe. Jaina was certainly feeling the same way about spending the rest of her life in this universe, where ninety-percent of her family was dead and the rest of her life would almost surely be filled with endless fighting. Bringing the galaxy back from the brink was going to be a very long, very violent process. As soon as the Vong were removed from the picture, Anakin had no doubt that hundreds of warlords would spring up across the galaxy, and he and the other Jedi would have to spend decades bringing them all down, much like his uncle and the other heroes of the Rebellion had spent decades bringing the dozens of Imperial warlords down.
The only difference between their situation and Anakin’s was that the Jedi of this day didn’t have the resources of the Rebel Alliance behind them. They had one star destroyer, a bunch of fighters, and a few dozen contacts in not-so-important places.
“Jaina, I… I understand. I know you want to go back home, and I swear that I’ll do everything I can to make that happen, but—.”
“I know, Anakin,” Jaina sighed sadly, stopping her brother before he could repeat what she had said earlier about the galaxy’s ability to devote any resources to sending Jaina and Jag home. “Just forget it.”
Anakin pursed his lips and stood, thinking it better to leave his sister alone for a few minutes. He turned to leave the Shadow’s cockpit, but stopped mid-step and instead gave his big sister a hug.
“Jaina,” he said slowly. “Even if we can’t find you a way home, you’ll always have a family here.”
Jaina’s mouth quivered into a small smile. “Thanks, Anakin.”
Anakin tightened his embrace around his sister, and was able to continue the embrace for a few more seconds before the Jade Shadow’s computer announced the upcoming reversion to hyperspace. Anakin and Jaina disentangled themselves from each other’s arms and Anakin dropped back into the pilot’s seat. He left Jaina to handle the reversion to realspace while he called Danni, Zekk, and Valin, and told all three of them to get up to the cockpit. They all managed to make it before Jaina flipped the switch to revert to realspace. The cobalt tunnel winked out of existence around the Jade Shadow, replaced by a literally incalculable number of white streaks that rapidly shrunk away into little white dots against the dark background of deep space.
Anakin cast a brief glance towards the sensor board to confirm that all four Scorchers had successfully reverted out of hyperspace as well before he looked up at the ship waiting for them. It looked huge, easily bigger than the Archangel. It struck Anakin as almost fish-shaped, with its rounded bow, tapering tail, and massive fin-like wings. If it wasn’t for the shimmering gold paint and the two immense cannons built into the wings, the fish-appearance would have been perfect.
“Ah, Anakin,” Zekk said. “That’s not the Challenger.”
“Sithspit!” Anakin cursed as he hauled back on the Shadow’s controls, pulling it into a tight end-over-end turn and sending it racing away from the strange warship. Jag’s Angel squadron followed suit, dropping back to cover the Shadow’s rear.
Anakin was about to order everyone to strap in for a hyperspace jump when one of the Shadow’s alarms went off, signaling that the fish-shaped warship had just deployed a gravity well generator. Before anyone in the Shadow’s cockpit could react to that development, another alarm sounded, announcing that there were two flights of Bakuran SGH-15 Dagger fighters closing on them.
“This,” Zekk decided, “is not good.”
“Jaina, tell Jag and the other Scorchers to intercept the Daggers on the right,” Anakin instructed. “We’ll handle the ones—.”
“This is Commander Charlas to the Jade Shadow. Stand down, Anakin.”
“Kitty?” Anakin spluttered. “What—?”
“The Bakuran High Command saw fit to give me command of something slightly bigger than the Challenger,” Kitty explained, completely oblivious to the fact that the Jedi had been about to blow up a good portion of her ship’s fighter force. “This is the Requiem, the Bakuran Military’s new flagship.”
“Flagship?” Anakin snapped. “How did you get their flagship out of Bakura?”
“Long story,” Kitty replied ambiguously. “You can tell your Scorchers to go home; we’re dropping the gravity well now. The Daggers will escort you into the Requiem’s hangar. A few soldiers will then escort you to the bridge, where I’ll meet you.”
Anakin shared a brief glance with the other four Jedi, nothing each of their slightly skeptical looks before he said “See you soon, Kitty” into the comm and then turned it off.
“You think it’s a trap?” Jaina asked.
“I don’t know,” Anakin confessed. “She’s a great liar—.”
“Should’ve been a politician,” Valin remarked.
“Shut up, Valin,” Zekk said, beating everyone else to it.
“It doesn’t really matter if she’s sold us out or not,” Danni said. “She’s got a star destroyer, half a dozen squadrons of fighters, and a gravity well projector. We’ve got four Scorchers and the Shadow.”
“Alright, we’ll send Jag and the others home and dock,” Anakin decided. Jaina beat him to the comm controls and swiftly connected them to Jag’s Scorcher.
“Jaina, what’s going on?” Jag demanded as soon as the commlink connected.
“Commander Charlas switched ships since the last time Anakin met her,” Jaina explained. “You better get back to the Archangel. We’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Jag, I’m sure,” Jaina stated irritably. “Now get.”
“All right,” Jag sighed. “May the Force be with you.”
“Same to you, Jag,” Jaina replied. “I love you.”
“Jaina, wait!” Wynssa cried over the comm before Jaina could shut the Shadow’s down. “Is Valin there?”
“I’m right here, Wyn,” Valin said. “What’s up, baby?”
“Please be careful, Valin,” Wynssa begged. “And, Zekk, I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
“I know you will,” Zekk replied. “Look after yourself.”
“I will. Just keep Valin safe for me,” Wynssa shut down the comm before anyone could offer another comment.
“She asked you to look after me?” Valin sighed to Zekk once he got over the initial shock of Wyn’s comment. “I’m going to have to talk to that girl.”
“Save it till we get back,” Anakin ordered. “Alright, the Daggers have formed up around us. I’m taking us in for a landing.”
As the Requiem’s hangar began to open its massive doors for the Shadow’s entry, Zekk remarked “This should be interesting.”
[end of chapter]
RC: I hope you enjoyed Draconarius' story thus far. I won't let you down with the remaining chapters. The updates should be prompt for awhile, I have a bit of free time before college. Chapter 20 is coming tonight! 
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Padawan of princess_of_naboo E-married to the amazing padawanlost Member of Charon_Force Beginning's End: http://boards.theforce.net/Message.aspx?topic=28450077&brd=10477&replies=1
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