The Storm - Sequel to The Art of War

All right, so I thought I needed to tie up all the plotlines, and there are a few that are still unsolved. So here it is, the sequel to The Art of War. In chronoological order The Road to Wisdom is the interlude between AOW and The Storm.

Expect a raw mix of action, romance and philosophy. Yep, you read that right.

The cast is the old one, as expected, with a few new additions. Spoilers for Children of the Jedi, Black Fleet Crisis-Trilogy and the New Jedi Order, but not too many, I hope.

Special thanks goes to my bet-reader Red. Muchas gracias for your hard work

The Prologue is set a few weeks before the war ends. And now. Enjoy.

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The Storm

Sequel to The Art of War


Prologue


The living dead shall resurrect the glory of the past
And a storm of darkness shall swallow the light

Excerpt from the Jen'da prophecies




Marten Anderland was watching in rapt fascination as the program he had developed over almost four years of hard work began its wondrous task. On the five screens he was using to keep track of all the different streams of data he could practically see it sieve through the immense flow of information. And that was only a tenth of what was still waiting to be put into chronological and logical order. It was unbelievable. At least, it would have been, had it not been there in front of his very eyes. After all those years the Seeker really, truly was functional.

Marten was grinning like an idiot as the Seeker, that was the name he had given the program, began fishing code from the data and put it in orderly columns of letters and numbers, each combination a different aspect of the given topic. It had taken ages to come up with a suitable code, and Marten was still not completely satisfied with the outcome. Not fine enough for his taste, there were too many flavors that still eluded the Seeker, and those might be vital.

As the program continued its tedious work dutifully, Marten made himself relax. He had been Father and Mother for that little Seeker, but now it was up to him to do its job. All he himself could do now was wait, rest and debug the program again and again, until it was perfect. Rising from his seat he stretched slowly, then grabbed the plastic cup sitting on his desk to go and get himself something to drink and eat. Lunch was hours gone and it was already closing in on midnight on this side of the planet Marten had requested an office with no windows, so nothing would distract him.

In the outer office Julien waved at him as he passed.

"Any progress?"

"Yep," Marten was practically beaming at his colleague. "That little guy is busy as a womprat."

"Wow!" Julien exclaimed with a grin of his own. "Guess that calls for a celebration tonight. Boss will want to commend you again."

They shared a mirthless smile. "Yeah, sure," was all Marten answered. The past months had changed everything. First the Emperor had died, then the rebels had taken over Coruscant and just now they had called a New Republic. So many things had happened, but Marten and his colleagues had only one task to perform, and that took up all of their time and had done so for the past six years. Boss, who actually held a professorship for Artificial Intelligence back on Coruscant, was the only one who kept an eye on what was going on around them, and he had been increasingly nervous over the past weeks. Probably he expected a rebel raid to come crashing down on them at any moment, but Marten did not care much about that. He did not care who paid his wages as long as he could continue his work unmolested.It was too fascinating to let go, and he had put so much of himself into it that all he wanted was for the program to finally run perfectly.

Walking toward the cantina he passed the library, rows upon rows of shelves stacked with datacards, billions of them, sorted by topic, time and a whole string of other variables that Marten had had to incorporate into his little Seeker. That had taken most of his time,

 

All right, it's time for another great story by Djuva. Excellent. I will definitely keep my eye on this.

 

Thanks, Fluke, here's the second half of the prologue.
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Yana Dar walked into the back-office almost reverentially, and her eyes were gleaming with awe. Anderland was trailing after her, twitching nervously whenever one of her bodyguards even looked at him. But Yana did not care if he was scared enough to wet his pants or not.

"This is your work, Marten?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Call me Yana. So, what does it do?"

He bustled past to show her. "This is the algorithm, or at least part of it," he began to explain and gestured at one of the smaller screens. "This is the data we have already encrypted. The program sifts through that data, looking for special code combinations on a special topic."

"What topic?" Yana asked and walked over to lean over his shoulder, her hair brushing over his cheek.
Marten blushed when he looked up at her.

"Er, Sith History, my lady."

She chuckled softly. Of course. What else? "Very good. Abla." The man detached from the rest of her guards and ambled over to join them. "Abla, what do you make of this?"

He squinted at the screens, taking his time. "Solid work, I'd say," he announced at last.

Marten was beaming with pride and Yana absent-mindedly started massaging his neck as she said: "How long do you think you'll need to get acquainted with the Sergeant's little bundle of joy?"

"Four months, maybe more, depends on his cooperation."

"His cooperation." She laughed softly, before she bent down to whisper in the Sergeant's ear: "You will be a good boy, won't you?" He nodded quickly, sweat pouring down his forehead. "Good!" She let go of him again and took a step back. "He's all yours, Abla. Take him away." She waited until the two men had left before she addressed the rest. "I want you to secure the facility completely. No one is to escape." They nodded one by one, then left too.

Yana took a place on the chair Marten had previously occupied and crossed her feet on the desk, boot-tips pointing toward the ceiling. Leaning back against the head-rest she studied the data scrolling past on the screens pensively. Four months, maybe more, until she could move in earnest. Well, there was still a lot to prepare. First she would have to get in contact with that Ismaren woman and find herself a fitting liaison to the so-called New Republic. Her sources on Coruscant were adept enough at uncovering information, but that was not enough. She needed agents who enjoyed the trust of the leaders of the Republic. Yes. Smiling to herself Yana Dar relaxed gradually. Her father would have been proud of her. Very proud. A shame that he was dead. She had felt his death a week ago, an immense disturbance in the Force, and she remembered the joy she had felt very clearly. There was no one who could stand in her way now, no one left to oppose her. Not with what she had here. With that wealth of knowledge no one would be able to challenge her.

 

OH BOY! Hot diggty dog!

I love Yana all ready. This is getting a link from my thread! Yahoo!

 

Who-hey, Casper! LOL! I thought you'd like her Thanks for the advertisement and sorry for lurking on The Fading Light, which, dear readers, you should not miss either

Here's the first post of the first chapter. And we meet...
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Chapter 1 - Proposals




The jungle world of Yavin 4 was never silent. The Force was always roaring with the muted sounds of the billions of creatures that populated the forests and it heaved and bucked like a stormy sea with the countless new lives and deaths that happened each second all over the planet. Nestled in the midst of the jungle the great ziggurats of the millennia-old temples of the Massassi lay underneath a thick blanket of humid heat; the sounds of avians patrolling the forest roof, along with the nattering of woolamanders filled the air around them. Inside the great structures, though, cool silence prevailed.
Well, almost.

"I should not have come back here," a man's voice announced, its deep timbre flowing along the hallways of the Great Temple like the rumble of a small earthquake. "I don't think he will be very pleased to see me again," he continued. "And I won't be pleased either. Don't laugh, okay? This is part of the ritual." The voice stopped talking abruptly and for a heart-beat the silence returned. Then, very softly, someone started singing.

Belana Jen crossed her arms in front of her chest and smiled. Her charge was standing at the center of the temple's great hall that formed the heart of the structure. Roj Kell had shed his dark robes, wearing nothing but his pants and boots, black too, of course. His face, still handsome despite the lines that three thousand years had etched into his skin, was fixed in utmost concentration, his eyes closed. Belana could not pick up his feelings through the Force, but she could see that he was determined to go through with this now. It had taken her a sweet, long time to convince him that this trip was necessary for him to make. He had found numerous excuses to delay it.

His voice, enchanting at any time, made her shiver as it danced gracefully on the melody of the ritual chant he had selected for this task. She felt compelled to reach out to him, to touch him, finding his call irresistible, but this song was not meant for her.

He had explained the effects to her in great detail, but she had not wanted to believe that anyone could have such power as he did, even though she should have known better. The air around them began shimmering with a soft glow, and Belana stared as the chamber filled with the specters of beings long dead who gathered to listen. Suddenly his eyes snapped open, roaring furnaces of a powerful light that wanted to swallow the dead again. But he held the barrier firmly. She thought he was calm, hoped he was, but the task ahead would be hard on him. Belana almost called an end to it then, but too late. A tall woman, pitch-black hair spilling over her shoulders, detached from the crowd of specters and walked toward the man standing in the middle of the chamber. She moved with a grace Belana recognized easily, and she could see the same, calm strength in her green eyes that she could see in the man's yellow.

"My son," the woman began softly, her voice a cool river of chiming bells. "You have called us and here we are. What is your request?"

"I have failed my people," he answered just as softly, and Belana could hear his pain in his tone. "I have failed my heritage. I have failed myself."

"Pride," the tall woman interrupted him harshly. "Far too much pride, my son. How dare you assume that what happened was yours to prevent? You knew you would fail and yet you insisted on taking the blame. Fool!"

He swallowed hard, but made himself meet her cold gaze. "I have tried to atone for that failure. Was that wrong too?"

"My son, you should have accepted our fate, and you should have remembered our lore."

"I did remember. Every day I did remember. I lived by it."

"You were destined to be a guide, not a le

 

uhm...noo... actually i didn't expect that... anyway, i'm lurking again

 

"Mother?"

She looked up pensively, but then recognition flashed across her gentle features. "Luke! Come in. Any news?"

"No, nothing." Stepping into the room gingerly he hesitated, and smiled. "Father is still out?"

"Yes. He said he can't sleep unless he finds Kell again."

Luke laughed. "And it is past midnight already." Dropping down in a chair next to hers he crossed his arms on the table-top and sighed. "Why can't he just let him go?"

She reached over to pat his right arm affectionately and shut down the datapad she had been studying. "What did Mon Mothma have to say?"

"She's concerned. And Leia equally so. You have met him up close. What do you think?" He studied her large eyes intently. For a second distant pain flashed across her mind, making him wince in turn.

"I do not know," she replied at last. "In a sense I trust him to do the right thing."

"And in his case, what would that be?"

Mother smiled at him. "If I knew I would tell you. Where did you leave Nuron, by the way?"

"She's decided to get some rest."

"Maybe Anakin should take an example in her," Mother commented gloomily.

Luke turned hs head toward the door and rose. "He's here," was all he said before he went to welcome his father. Striding into the room the Dark Lord seemed ill at ease.

"No traces, nothing. As if he's vanished from this galaxy," he announced.

Looking up at him Mother raised her eyebrows coolly. "What if he is dead too?

"I wouldn't count on that." Anakin gave his son a scrutinizing glare. "Master Yoda advised me to let him go. Maybe I should heed that advice."

"Maybe," Mother conceded, but a smile was hiding at the corners of her mouth, making Luke wonder what advice his father had chosen not to follow in the past.

"And besides, I have just received news from Chi'in. Apparently we are going to war again."

"What!" Rising from her seat quickly Mother stared at her husband in disbelief. "How so?"

"The Grand Admiral reports increasing movement in the Outer Rim. Something's going on."

"Does he still have the Executor?" Luke asked.

"I suppose he does. But relying on just one asset would be foolish and Thrawn is certainly not that."

"But he did not make an official request to the Republic, did he?" Mother inserted quietly. Always the politician, where Anakin still remained a warrior at heart. Luke smiled at the look his parents shared.

"No, not yet. But if Chi'in believes it could be trouble we had better be prepared. Luke, I want you and Nuron to go and snoop around. Maybe you can find some clues."

"What about the others?" the young Jedi Knight asked, slightly surprised.

"I didn't get the impression that they have time to spare. Meet with Chi'in and the Grand Admiral and get some information back to me."

"Us," Mother reminded Anakin gently.

"Yes, of course. I forgot that I'm not in charge anymore," the tall Jedi replied wrily. He started pacing the room restlessly, apparently still upset over yesterday's events. Suddenly he looked up again. "Where is Leia?"

"She left this morning, don't you remember?"

Slapping his forehead in mock embarrassment Father smiled. "I totally forgot about that!" A wide grin appeared on his face. "That so-called mission to Ithor? Leia will love it."

"No doubt that was what Han is counting on," Luke commented drily. Mother's smile widened.

"That man is full of surprises," she said and Luke frowned.

"You know something we don't ?"

Clearing her throat she averted her eyes diplomatically, but Luke could feel that she would just have loved to spill that little secret. Yet he felt that he should not be the one to ask. Father stepped over to his wife nonchalantly and wrapped her in his arms tenderly, making no effort in disguising this subtle manipulation at all.

"What did he say then?" he asked softly and placed a kiss on the top of her head. She giggled like a teenager and fended him off with a laugh.

"Well, since they are already gone I suppose there can be no harm in telling you," she explained and straightened her

 

Ooohhhh..... what have we here?

Wonderful posts so far, Djuva. Hoping to read more soon.

 

That part with Kell was unexpected, but then again when hasn't Kell did the unexpected. We got to tread lightly here; Kell is up to something and I think Anakin knows it; not the details, just the feeling.

And what's so bad about Ithor? Really.

UP!

 

We-ell, I would not be so certain about Anakin here. As for Ithor, I think it's a pretty beautiful place, but well...you'll see.
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Leia and Han had found a place in one of the cozy little cafés dotting Treasure Ship Row among the many stalls and shops and more garish establishments that made up Coronet's major entertainment mall. Leia's eyes sparkled in the lights, and seeing her happy like that made Han's heart sing with joy. She looked so beautiful, almost radiant. The smile she directed at him over a dark red drink was warming his face considerably and suddenly he wanted some excuse to spirit her away to somewhere more private. Well, maybe an excuse was not really necessary. But when he leaned over the small table to suggest that they leave, Leia frowned fiercely at the passersby.

"What's up, honey?" he asked softly.

"That man," she answered under her breath. "I thought -"She shook her head, sending her long dark hair flying, but the low chuckle that followed was a surprise. "Oh, Han, I am sorry. Now I have spoiled the mood."

"No, no, that's okay," he assured her, but it was hard to hide his disappointment. The spell had been broken. Looking at him silently out of liquid brown eyes she made it clear that she did not buy his reassurance either. Han sighed. This was not going as well as he had had it planned. It had all seemed so grand. Make her go with him to someplace as enchanting as Corellia's capital, court her with extraordinary dinners, shows and gifts, and above all make her feel the most desirable woman in the entire galaxy. But somehow he had the feeling that he was missing his goal by miles. Leia was as charming as ever, but distant too. Did she miss her work that much?

"Han," she began tentatively, then rallied herself and reached out to lay a hand on his. "It is wonderful, really."

"But? There's always a but, isn't there?" he answered drily.

Burying her face in her drink she mumbled something he did not catch entirely, but he could see that she was smiling. "You know me too well," she said with a laugh at last.

"So, who was that you thought you just saw?"

"Magrody."

"What? The guy who thought up the Death Star? Nasdra Magrody? Are you sure?" Han twisted around in his seat to frown at the flow of passersby.

"He's gone now, Han," Leia reminded him unnecessarily.

"Was he alone?" the Corellian asked suspiciously.

"No." Leia shook her head slowly. "There were four men with him."

"Escort or bodyguards?"

"Both, I believe."

Suddenly all thought of a romantic evening had been discarded for the old game Han knew so well. He heaved a tiny, tiny sigh. "Do we tell Intelligence or do we follow him nice and quiet?"

"I don't think Intelligence has assets here on Corellia. They haven't even signed the treaty yet."

The treaty. He should have known. When he had asked Leia to come on that trip with him she had insisted that she combine work with vacation, as if that would leave any vacation at all! So far he had been able to keep her from meeting officially with the Corellian government. The Liberty was waiting for a call outside the system, to back her claims up if necessary, but Han had wished and prayed that that day would be far away yet. Now though, with Nasdra Magrody here, Leia would focus on her job again. He supposed that she did indeed have a lot to do as the fledgling Republic's Minister of State, but so far it was all chaos anyway, and Leia had a hard time getting anything done. It had been like that for the entire past year and he just knew that she needed rest badly. They had never had a chance to even breathe since the war had ended, and he himself felt burned out. For Leia it must be far worse. Yet she had that look in her eyes, determination mixed with curiosity, that told him that behind that pretty forehead her diplomatic mind was ticking away again.

"Then we follow?" He grinned roguishly. "Could be fun too, you know?"

She smiled tiredly. "I can't go gallivanting across the galaxy any longer, Han. I ha

 

Nuron's back! Yahoo!

Oh going bact to AoW with the file system. Always nice to bring back the good ol days.

FORWARD!

 

Sweet Moses, this is good. Is it all right if I put your story, "The Art of War," and this on my fan fic site?

 

Of course it's good! Djuva wrote it I see it hasn't taken anybody very long to find trouble. Sometimes I'm amazed the main characters live as long as they do.

 

Har har. Trouble? You don't know anything yet
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Standing back Padmé and Anakin watched the couple leave. The Morning Glory rose gracefully from its perch on the polished hangar floor and drifted out into the sky above Coruscant on a tractor beam that would guide them out of the atmosphere securely. He had wrapped his arms around her shoulder and hugged her very close, feeling her warmth and love, relishing in her strength. Closing his eyes briefly he rested his chin on top of her head.

"So they're off," he said.

"Yes." Her sigh vibrated through his ribcage.

"I wonder if Han has proposed yet?"

He could sense her chuckle as she turned around and buried her face against his chest and hugged him around the waist. "Curious? I fear not knowing is going to kill you."

"Is it?" He kissed her forehead tenderly. "On the other hand we will have time for ourselves, without the children always nagging at us."

"You enjoy their attention, my dear, don't deny it. I know."

"Maybe I simply enjoy your attentions even more." She laughed at that.

"So, now that we have sent everyone on vacation, are we going to have one too?"

"Are you mad? There's too much to do!"

Someone cleared his throat discreetly behind them. "Lord Skywalker? My lady?"

"Piett!" Turning his head Anakin gave the Admiral a questioning glance. "What is it?"

The man stepped a little bit closer, and his gray eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Speaking of vacation, I am leaving today for Chandrila. Therefore Mon Mothma thought it a good idea to clear up a few things in a meeting this afternoon."

"A meeting. Who is attending?"

"The president, the chief security advisor, the senior analyst, the chief military advisor and yourself, of course."

"An illustre round. When?"

"An hour."

"Then we shall hurry," Padmè mumbled against his shirt. Anakin tried to keep his features blank.

"I will see you then." Piett gave a short military bow and turned away again. He walked away unhurriedly.

"Sometimes that man is as stiff as-" Padmé began, then shook her head. "Chandrila? What does he want on Chandrila?"

"See his family, I suppose," Anakin answered quietly. "I believe his sister lives there, and his nieces."
He looked down at her face, into her big, brown eyes that looked slightly startled. "What?" he asked. "Everyone has a family somewhere, someplace."

"And you know all about it, do you?" She reached up to draw his head down to a level with hers and kissed him deeply. "I am happy that you are back with me, very happy," she said at last.

"I know. And I love that happiness. It makes you glow."




Anakin always found funny ways of telling her that he loved her, crazy little analogies and comparisons that were of such childish innocence that it melted her heart every time he said them. Her arms wrapped around him, she wanted to never let go again, wanted to crush him for the joy he gave her. Over the past months they had had a lot to make up for, a lot of stories to tell and secrets to reveal. A lot of hurt and relief, and even more love. It seemed just like yesterday that they had made their peace back on board the Wilde Karrde and found each other again, heart and soul. Since then she had been able to watch his progress as he had healed from wounds too deep and old to forget fast. If ever. The children had leaped on the opportunity to have both their parents at last and their honest questions and critique had helped break the barriers Padmé herself had erected to shield herself against further injuries. There had been a lot to learn for all of them.

But now Anakin had regained all of his strength and vigor, all of his confidence. His arrogance had been diminished to a more bearable level. Almost his old self again. She smiled at the very thought, when he would be completely her Anakin again, the young man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. The love was still there, but a few shadows remained, mannerisms that were too reminiscent of his evil alter ego for

 

Tomas Piett arrived to the meeting earlier that the rest of the attendees, but he had had nothing left to do inbetween preparing his trip to Chandrila and leaving last instructions for his crew. Strange that he still thought in such terms, even though he had had to exchange a starship's bridge for an office in the forbidding structure that had once been Darth Vader's home on Coruscant. The fortress had been claimed by Security and Intelligence, taking advantage of the extensive facilities and available assets.
Even though the Defense Council, to whom Piett as Chief Military Advisor answered directly, had its headquarters in the former Imperial Palace, he had chosen his new home there. But he had preferred staying with the people he knew, like Page and Jixton. And he missed life on a ship. Right now he envied his friend Lorth Needa immensely.

Having declined a promotion, the Captain was currently leading the Second Fleet on a patrol close to the border to Imperial space. What was left of the pro-Imperial forces had gathered behind that frontier, perhaps going on about their lives peacefully, and maybe just waiting to strike back. Needa was making sure that the young Republic would not be taken by nasty surprises, and Piett sometimes wished that he could be out there with him, instead of stuck on Coruscant.

Now, seated alone at the rounded conference table, he was idly drumming his fingers on the smooth surface, thinking. He had a fair idea of why Mon Mothma had called the meeting, but he was wondering how the others would react, especially the Dark Lord. The president was concerned about the future, and from what they knew, she should be. A fifth of the Imperial Navy had switched sides in the conflict with the Empire, and a few more ships had joined the New Republic each month ever since the war had ended. Still, that left them very vulnerable when it came down to sheer fire-power. Should the remaining Imperial commanders decide to lay their differences and ambitions to rest they could crush the New Republic easily.

Until a few months back the New Republic had had the great advantage of having two brilliant strategists at its disposal to make up for that, but Grand Admiral Thrawn had returned to the Unknown Regions with the Executor and left a huge hole in their defenses. Anakin Skywalker undoubtedly would be up to any threat that might come at the New Republic, but Mon Mothma had made it clear to Piett that she would rather not rely on the former Sith. For publicity reasons, he assumed. Yet the problems on the military level were nothing compared to what was going on politically. The Hutts seemed bent on officially reclaiming the territory they had ruled at the times of the Old Republic. Palpatine might have tolerated them, but he had made it clear that the Empire ruled everywhere. Now planets like Tatooine, Ryloth and Arkadia were beginning to ponder their own future, free of the Empire, free of the Hutts. The New Republic had to decide whether it had an interest in bringing these worlds into their alliance. And a fragile alliance it was.

"Admiral, I should not be surprised to find you already here," a cool voice said from the door. Turning his head slightly he smiled at the newcomer, then rose to welcome her.

"Madam President."

"Please, do remain seated. This is no formal function, just a gathering among old friends and allies."

"Is it that? Really?"

She gave him a sad look. "I regret what I have to do, but there is no other choice. We must begin anew, and some bonds have to be broken before they can strangle us."

Piett's mouth twisted in disapproval. He might understand the necessity of her move, but he was not someone who forgot easily. When he had been promoted to the post of the Grand Admiral's aide and commander of his flagship back in the war, his loyalties had been to the Empire, and its prosperity his goal, but the Dark Lord had had his entire respect, along with Thrawn later on. Both warlords thought beyond the concepts of war, the Sith even more so than the Chiss. Now that the

 

Yes, don't assume too much.

I think Anakin and Padme's getaway will be very short. Indeed very short, but it was still nice to have the scene in there to reaffirm their love for one another. Great stuff.

UP!

 

Well, here's another one
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"We will be late," Anakin whispered in her ear softly, his warm breath feeling incredibly good on the bare skin of her face. Sighing with regret she snuggled against him, her eyes still closed.

"They can wait a bit longer," she mumbled. He laughed at that, such a rich sound, with so many inflections. Padmé smiled up at him, taking in his scarred features fondly. Blue eyes clear and open, he was watching her, expectation plain in his gaze. How she loved those eyes. Craning her neck, she placed a leisured kiss on his lips. "Say 'please'."

"Please." He frowned down at her. "Padmé we have an appointment to keep, and you would not want to make a bad impression as Senior Analyst, would you?"

"Yes. You are right. Unfortunately." Disengaging from his embrace she rose and straightened her clothes self-consciously. "Let's go."

He got to his feet with a smile and gently pulled a stray strand of dark hair behind her left ear. "There. You look beautiful. As always."

"Perfect," she told him with a teasing grin. "Come on."




Anakin Skywalker could feel a slight tension as he entered the conference room on Padmé's heels. Three sets of eyes swiveled around to look at the couple. Mon Mothma was seated at the head of the table and she wore an earnest expression on her face. At her side Tomas Piett was smiling, but there was some worry in his eyes. The last one waiting was Telmann Page, newly appointed Chief Security Advisor, which was a pretty bland title for the Head of Intelligence, Anakin thought. He nodded at the trio and took a seat at his wife's side.

"Now that we are complete," Mon Mothma began without preamble, "we can start right away. Padmé, I know you haven't had much time to familiarize yourself with your new task, but rest assured that I will help you along. As you know Admiral Piett will be leaving for a few weeks, for personal reasons, and he has prepared a report for us. Admiral?"

Piett straightened abruptly and inserted a datacard into the holorecorder. Immediately the screens in front of each attendee lit up with a set of diagramms that also appeared above the table-top. "This is a comparison of our current military strength with what we assume the Imperial Remnant still has got out there. We can account for three warlords, but we are missing two Grand Admirals." Piett smiled coolly. "While I do not assume they could match Thrawn, each one of them could become more of a nuisance. We have twenty-five Star Destroyers, thirty Mon Calamari cruisers and a hundred corvettes, plus quite a few TIE and X-wing squads. All in all that accumulates to a fifth of the entire Imperial fleet. Our allies, that is those worlds who have supported us and have joined the New Republic's alliance, have their own resources, but few have competent commanders or competent troops. Well, I do not want our navy to settle local disputes while there are so many possible enemies out there, and I have a feeling our allies would not appreciate that either. So we need a program that will turn those 'incompetent' local forces into effective ones."

"Not all of them are incompetent, Admiral," Anakin countered calmly.

"But enough are. The commanders are corrupt and their soldiers half-criminals," Mon Mothma injected. "Admit it, Lord Skywalker, there is a lack of discipline among those local troops, and they might become a danger."

"Agreed. Yet if you do not want to interfere too much with local politics, as you have stated in your acceptance speech for the presidency, as far as I recall, how do you mean to achieve that discipline? Hold seminars?" Padmé smiled at that, as he noted with satisfaction.

"No," Piett replied. "Not seminars. But we have to give the governments a reason to clear up the rubbish. They have to have an interest in their own security."

"That does not answer my question, Admiral."

"No, but it is an outline for the task I am giving the Senior Analyst, your wife." Mon Mothma nodded at Padmé gravely.

"A diplomatic mission? That needs thor

 

*rofls at the last bit* finally caught up with the story, more please?

changed it, happy now? *raises eyebrow*

 

"Catched?" Now there's some proper English.















































You should've said "caught," as it is correct grammar.

 

*smacks head* oh god... *falls from chair* now i know i'm totally brain dead... but don't get so hostile... *shrugs* i'm half dead (i feel like dead) and need to sleep what i haven't really done in the last three days...*grmbls*

oh...before i forget it! i'm a stupid german and i'm absolutely not good in english!

 

Poor Daath666 Naughty Fluke LOL! Guys, don't fight over grammar! It's Christmas!
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She was curled up tightly on the sofa, her eyes fixed on the screen of her datapad, where multiple layers of code were streaming across a sea of black. In the background the sound of someone assaulting a keypad viciously rose over the din of the music drifting in from outside.

"What part are you working on right now?" she asked softly.

Looking up from his datascreen Abla gave her a startled glance that she noticed out of the corner of her eyes. "Section Alpha B. That's the neuronic processor."

"Yes. You are sure that the data will be compatible with that program?"

"Almost, boss. Once we have tested it we will know for sure."

"Of course. Have you started on the other material yet?"

"No. I need a more powerful system to handle both streams at once, and besides, the entire program will need something the size of the Coruscant Mainframe to run."

"I am working on that," she told him with a smile, but then her mood darkened again. "Maybe you should not have modified Anderland's program like this. He's still in tears over the changes you made."

Abla gave her a vicious grin. "Then he should have thought of that beforehand himself."

Shaking her head, Yana Dar hit a key on her keypad and switched channels. She frowned at the latest issue of Coruscant Daily that was flickering across the screen, her mind racing. "He's alive. Had I known I would not have let you slice into Bast Castle."

"I know how to cover my traces, Yana," he answered calmly. "And unless your Dark Lord is suddenly an expert slicer, we have nothing to fear. Not even if he was," Abla added for good measure.

She was not listening any longer. Over the past three days she had felt another death, a great master, by the feel of it, a Jedi Master. The New Republic had not given a public announcement so far, but from what her sources had been able to tell her she could make an educated guess. Well, she had thought that Yoda had perished already ages ago, so his death did not really matter. What mattered though was the other presence that had vanished from the galaxy just hours behind the Jedi Master.

He had flared up suddenly, a few months ago, a black bonfire so powerful it had shocked her to the marrow, before she had been able to confirm that he was not who she feared he was. No official announcement here either, but the New Republic had never acknowledged his existence officially.
Roj Kell, Palpatine's master, with all probability the oldest being that had ever graced this galaxy. His presence had vanished as abruptly as it had reappeared from whatever depths the Emperor had hidden him in. When Yana had learned that he had fallen into the rebels' hands she had started working on a plan to have him brought to her. He could have helped her, and Abla for that matter, immensely. Well, too late for that. On the other hand, that left only Vader to deal with.

"Abla," she began softly, "I think we are ready for operation B."

"What operation B?" he asked, startled. Yana smiled at him.

"Just tell Anderland to come and see me. In private. No need for you to know everything, my dear."





Leia walked into the luxurious flat Han had rented for them in the outskirts of Coronet. It was in a pleasant neighborhood, with gardens and parks sprinkled in between the neat houses and apartment complexes, and the flat itself was tastefully decorated and had a wonderful view over the city's skyline in the distance. They had not spent a lot of time in here over the past days, but what hours they had enjoyed the luxuries of the apartment, Leia remembered with a smile. She caught her own reflection in the tall mirror hanging in the hallway, a short, slender woman with long, chestnut hair falling over her shoulders almost down to her waist, and brown eyes that were far too knowing for her age. Well, she had a demanding job to deal with. Of course, the low-cut dress she wore right now was not really fitting for

 

This woman; I know who she is now. Oh yes, all has come clear........I hope anyways.

I can never really tell, but that's what makes your writing good, Djuva; keeps us guessing every time.

FORWARD AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!

 

No guessing necessary, Casper, you got it right on the first go
__________________________________________

Looking down at the princess' slender figure, Roganda Ismaren smiled. She had not expected the girl to give up easily. "Take her to the ship," she ordered quietly before she left the apartment again.

Outside in the hallway Erinin fell in step with her, his one eye studying her with open questioning. But he kept silent. He had been her bodyguard for the past eighteen years, after all, and she would never question his loyalty, even though she knew it was not to her.

They made their way to their speeder unmolested, and as they sped through the darkness toward the private port they had left their ship at, Roganda stared out into the night moodily. Eighteen years. She had been patient, she had been calm. But now her master's death had freed her to carry out the revenge she had had to still over the past. Yet it had festered in her heart, making her life a constant misery. But now Mith'raw'noruodo would pay for his humiliating her, for his rejecting her, for what Palpatine had done to her afterwards.

"Are you feeling well, my lady?" Erinin asked quietly as he drew the speeder onto the port's landing pad.

"Of course," she answered. "Everything is going well."

"His lordship will be pleased."

"I suppose he will be, at that." Roganda exited the speeder swiftly, not sparing one glance for her guard. "Once the princess is on board, you will set course for Nar Shadaa. We have an appointment to keep."

"Yes, my lady."

Storming up the ship's landing ramp, Roganda ignored everyone until she had reached her quarters. Irek was waiting for her, lounging in one of the chairs, his long legs hooked over the armrest. When she entered, he turned his head to look at her and smiled. He rose quickly, an eager expression lighting up his young face. "You are back! Everything went well?"

She patted his shoulder affectionately before she went over to take a seat on the sofa. "Yes."

"Then we have the princess?" Roganda nodded tiredly. After a while Irek walked over and sat down on the floor at her feet. "Mother, something is bothering you, I can feel it. What is wrong?"

"Nothing. I am just tired." Suddenly a thought came to her. "Where is Magrody?"

"The old man wanted to go into the city again," Irek said dismissively. "Don't worry, he' s not alone."

"I dearly hope not!" Roganda shouted impatiently. "He isn't back yet?"

"I don't know."

"Then go and find out, will you? I want to leave this planet tonight. Altara does not want to be openly associated with us, after all."

"If she makes trouble Erinin will take care of her," her son answered coldly.

"Really. Altara has been very courteous, to let us use her private port. And you want to thank her like that?"

Irek gave her a long, blank look, then jumped to his feet and nodded curtly. "I'll go," he said and turned away.

But Roganda was not finished yet. "Irek. I told you time and again to keep an eye on Magrody. Don't be so careless again."

He inclined his head softly. "As you wish." And then he was gone.

Shoulders slumping, Roganda wanted to lie down and cry. She could feel him slipping out of her control ever so slowly, and although she realized that one day he would break free of her, she knew in her heart that he was not ready yet.

 

YAHOO! I was right!

So........what do I win?

Kidding, and interesting.

FORWARD!

 

You win , eh, a new post!
____________________

Han Solo was leaning against the wall of a nondescript building on the edge of Treasure Ship Row. He had lost sight of his quarry, and all efforts to find him again had yielded nothing. But it had been Magrody for sure. If he was here Leia had to do something about it. For once Han wished he had a mind like hers. What did the man's presence on Corellia imply? That the government had made a different deal already? Perhaps. He hurried over to one of the main boulevards and waved for a taxi.
Leia would need to inform Mon Mothma, that was for sure, he only wished he had more to tell her than that he had lost the man again only an hour after they had spotted him. Well. Maybe he could still convince her that they should delay the inevitable until morning. The taxi deposited him in front of the apartment complex he had selected for his and Leia's vacation. The lights were on inside the living-room and Han smiled. Apparently she was still awake and waiting for him.

He snatched the keycard out of his jacket and unlocked the house's main gate before he took the lift upstairs, his heart light with joy. If they only had tonight left he would not wait any longer. Tonight he would ask her to marry him. It might not be the perfect setting, or the perfect moment, but it would do for him, and hopefully for her too. Whistling under his breath Han opened the door.

"Leia?"

There was no answer. Stepping into the hallway cautiously he unholstered his blaster and held it ready. He walked softly, trying to avoid any noises, but there was still nothing. "Leia!" he hissed, fear lurking at the back of his mind.

The living-room was empty and there were no signs of a struggle. But the comm console was blinking discreetly. Han darted over to activate the recorder. He listened intently to the the short exchange of words between Leia and a strange woman, trying to ignore the rising anxiety. Kidnapped. Leia had been kidnapped! Sinking down on his haunches he hung his head in sorrow. He was too late. Why had he let her go back alone? Pounding the floor with his left hand Han Solo grounded his teeth in frustration.

Well. There was no way he could turn back time, so he would have to do something to make all of this undone again. He nodded to himself determinedly, even though he was ready to cry. No one took Leia from him! No one! He gave the comm a mean stare. Then he rose and made his way to the port, to make a secure call from the Falcon's comm unit.

It was as bad as he had imagined. Sweating blood and water, Han tried to ignore the curses and insults Anakin Skywalker assaulted him with, and instead tried to get a word in. He was given no chance though. Ranting on, the Dark Lord proved very adept at making Han feel like a five-year -old caught with his hands in the entrails of his father's favorite speeder. At the same time Anakin made a supreme effort at soothing his wife, although he did not have much success with that, from what Han could hear. Padmé was in tears, and her sobbing got to Han even more than Anakin's tirade. As if his heart were not already torn to pieces. Suddenly he regretted having let Chewie off the hook so easily. Sure, the Wookiee had a right to go see his mate on Kasshyyk, but he needed him now, for Force's sake!

"Lord Skywalker -"

"- allowed her to run off with such an incompetent, irresponsible smuggler! Solo! I will have your guts for breakfast!"

"Lord Skywalker," Han began anew, but the Dark Lord was not listening.

"-don't have to worry, dear, everything will be all right, you'll see. And, Solo, when I'm finished with that you'll wish your head were still on your shoulders so you could see what I am doing to your-"

"Shut up!" Breathing hard with anger and frustration Han gritted his teeth, but he would be damned if he would let the man rant at him as if everything were his fault. To his great surprise there was silence on the other end. "Now you listen to me for a change! I want her back as much as you do, and I am dying with worry over