Beyond - Legends Star Wars: Tides of Darkness

Title: Tides of Darkness
Author(s): Theodore Hawkwood
Timeframe: 12 ABY with flashbacks.
Characters: Crix Madine, Ben Cozine, Troka, Ashliea Delstee, Corran Horn, Mirax Horn
Genre: Espionage/Adventure
Keywords: Crossover, Original Characters, OCs,
Summary: Two years following the Dark Empire Crisis of 10 ABY, previously undiscovered ancient ruins are discovered on the world of Sanctuary in the Calamari sector. These ruins prove to contain some dark secrets.
Notes: I’m mostly using Legends continuity in the background material of this fanfic. I’m replacing the events of the novel Darksaber with this fanfic.

Thank you to @UltramassiveUbersue for some of the first back and forth about this fanfic.

----

Twelve years after the Battle of Yavin, the New Republic grows strong and the Imperial Remnant grows weaker as warlords squabble amongst themselves. As time passes the galaxy comes to some form of peace.


Following the crisis of the Dark Empire two years earlier, the planet Sanctuary experienced a massive uptick of refugees populating her shores. During this time ruins of a previously unknown and ancient civilization were discovered.


In the shadows of these galactic events General Crix Madine, former Imperial officer and veteran of special operations visits an officer he mentored. Aware of the strain of burnout from close calls Madine makes an executive decision…
​

---

Prologue: Incoming

“Midway along the journey of our life I woke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had wandered off from the straight path.” - Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy

—-

The Glow Spider, Coruscant
Level 132, Megablock 17
Block 5, Subblock 12
12 ABY

His hand shook. More specifically his right hand. He had but only to lift it from a table, off his lap, or from the controls of a vehicle, and quick came the telltale reverberations.

Captain Ben Cozine, New Republic Intelligence, clenched his jaw and reached his hand towards the mug of Alderaanian ale. Grasping the mug’s handle in a death grip he raised it to his lips. Unclenching his jaw, he took a long swallow of the beverage.

Closing his eyes warmth pooled in his stomach as the shaking faded. He set the mug down amidst the sensation of floating amidst the clouds of Bespin…

A chirp and buzz snapped him back into the present. His eyes opened as he regarded the Talz sitting before him.

“What’s up, Troka?”

The Talz canted his head, all four of his eyes zeroed in on him.

“Look, pal, this is my first drink…” Ben’s eyes narrowed.

The Talz chirped a question back at him.

“I plan to have two drinks at most. In any case…” Ben held up his mug for emphasis.

“Hope you have room for at least one more.” A familiar voice sounded.

“Sir?” Ben’s eyes widened as he turned his head, and Troka buzzed his own shock. Both sentients saw Crix Madine stride purposefully into the bar from a back way.

Madine took the third seat at the high table and gestured to a bartender. The older twi’lek woman’s lekku twisted and she nodded as she took Madine’s order.

“And put these two’s tab on mine,” Madine added.

“Sir…”

“Ben, how many times do I have to tell you to knock off the ‘sirs’...” Madine grinned slightly.

“Force of habit sir…I mean, Crix.”

“What’s wrong, Ben?” Madine’s eyes flittered downward as Ben’s hand shook yet again.

“I…I get this sensation that I’ve outlived every last one of my chances…” Ben’s eyes closed, his hand shaking more violently.

‘There. I’ve said it. What’s next…’ Ben’s eyes opened, his hand knotted into a fist. The shaking stopped.

“I see. And I don’t recall hearing of this in any debrief you’ve had. Ever.” Madine’s eyes narrowed.

“Personal junk that I didn’t feel relevant,” Ben straightened his posture.

“I see. And when was the last time you got any sleep?” Madine raised an eyebrow.

“Define sleep, sir?”

“A span longer than four hours a night, preferably eight.” Madine held up four fingers on his right hand twice.

“Last week…six hours…” Ben bowed his head.

Troka chirped in response as he gave Ben a sideways look.

“Okay, it was more like five…five and a half.” Ben sighed as he took another pull of his ale.

Madine nodded. Their server returned and set the full mug of Alderaanian ale before Madine. His eyes flickered to the left, waiting a few moments before he leaned forward, a knowing look on his face.

“Crix…” Ben’s brows furrowed.

“Effective immediately I’m pulling you off frontline service.” Madine held up a hand as Ben began to speak.

A pause with a long draw from the pint. “That said, I do have a mission for you.”

“Pardon me for questions, sir, but you just now pulled me off frontline service.” Ben’s hand shook again.

“That I did. Calamari Sector isn’t the frontline…” Madine grinned, draining his glass.

“Color me curious, sir.” Ben drained the last of his mug and then gestured for a second drink.

“You’ll get a thorough briefing tomorrow at 0830 at headquarters. For now, let’s enjoy the moment.” Madine’s grin widened as the Twi’lek approached with three mugs.

Troka let out a chirp and buzz as he looked over at Madine.

“Of course you’re going, too. I know you two are a package deal…” Madine joked.

Ben and Troka both fixed him with a look. Madine held up both hands, grinning. “Hey, I know you two aren’t like that.”

“He’s not even my type!” Ben protested and Troka buzzed in agreement.

“Trust me, I know you aren’t Troka’s type either!” Madine leaned backwards, laughing.

Ben laughed despite himself, as did Troka. Ben held up his glass.

“To your health!” Ben began. Madine and Troka touched their own glasses to Ben’s before they each took a drink.

---

“Effective immediately. You are to proceed to Mon Cala and rendezvous with the expedition at Coral City.” - Order by General Crix Madine to Captain Ben Cozine and Sergeant Troka, New Republic Intelligence.

—--

Coral City Spaceport
Mon Calamari
Nine Days Later

Ben hoisted his backpack over his shoulder as he followed the crowd out of the transport onto the landing pad. A pair of droids and a Quarren in a yellow jumpsuit with reflective stripes directed the debarking passengers toward Customs.

Uniformed Quarren and Mon Calamari customs personnel looked through documents. Once he was through customs he headed towards a lift with Troka in tow.

As the door to the lift shut, Ben briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes again. His hand shook as the lift began its descent. He clenched and unclenched his fist three times before the lift concluded its descent. The shaking stopped.

As the lift doors hissed open Ben stepped into the baggage claim whereupon his heart skipped a beat. His eyes fell upon a slim blonde woman, about his height, her hair piled in a messy bun at the back of her head.

‘She’s every bit as beautiful as I remember her.’ Ben thought.

The woman looked up a heartbeat later and a smile creased her features.

“Ben!” She shouted his name as he approached.

Ben smiled, arms spreading wide as he took the final two steps closer.

“Force, it’s good to see you, Ashliea!” Ben wrapped his arms around her.

“It’s been too long!” Ashliea smiled as her own arms snaked around Ben’s torso.

A clicking sound followed by a buzz and chirp. Ashliea and Ben disentangled themselves.

“Hi Troka!” Ashliea said as she walked over.

The Talz chirped and took a few gangling steps towards Ashliea and embraced her, before lifting her off the ground.

“Not so tight!” Ashliea yelped.

Troka chirped as he set Ashliea down.

Ben chuckled. “Talz are masters at enthusiastic greetings.”

Ashliea looked over at Ben. “He apologized, right?”

Ben nodded.

Ashliea looked over at Troka. “It’s okay.”

The Talz straightened and let out a buzz. Troka canted his head and chirped a question.

“I’ve been here for two years,” Ashliea said as the trio headed for the baggage carousel.

“Was that before or after the Battle of Mon Calamari?” Ben asked.

“Before.”

Ben saw the unshed tears in Ashliea’s eyes, hearing the tremor in her voice. His hand shook again, his jaw clenched. Closing his eyes, hand hovering over the conveyor belt dispensing the baggage of many sentients…

“Ben?”

Ben shook his head. “Sorry, I was parsecs away.”

“You’re getting old,” Ashliea joked.

“You’re not too far behind me, after all, we are barely three months apart in age.” Ben grabbed one of his two bags off of the conveyor belt and tossed it onto an antigrav cart.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?” Ashliea quipped.

“Ash, my mother taught me never ask a woman her age. There isn’t any rule governing what to do if you already know her age…” Ben smirked as he grabbed another bag.

Troka chirped in his own two credits.

“Hey, pal, like I said some humans do kick up a fuss about their ages…hey!” Ben exclaimed before Ashliea affectionately punched him on the arm.

Troka let out a declarative buzz and held up four fingers.

“Happy belated fortieth, granddad…” Ashliea teased.

Presently they collected the last of their baggage before walking out of the passenger terminal towards a waiting airspeeder. Sitting at the controls was a Quarren snacking on a mollusk.

“What took you so long?” The Quarren griped before tossing the shell onto the curb.

“Old folks, Sillen.” Ashliea remarked.

“Fair enough, granny,” Ben snapped back before mounting the airspeeder.

“Hey!” Ashliea protested as she climbed into the airspeeder’s front seat.

“I wouldn’t fret about being called ‘granny’. After all, among we Quarren value the wisdom inherent in advancing years.” Sillen looked at each of her three passengers.

“Okay, Sillen. How wise are you?” Ben asked.

“Don’t make me empty my ink pouch into this cab.” Sillen’s tentacles near her mouth all wriggled as she looked over her right shoulder.

Troka buzzed a question. Ben looked at him from the other side of the rear passenger seat.

“I’ll explain my theory on this later…” Ben replied.

Troka chirped another question.

“Because I’d rather not get covered in ink before we get to our accommodations.” Ben flickered his eyes to the irate Quarren in the driver’s seat.

—

To Be Continued…

 

Undertows

Summary: The expedition’s newest members are oriented. Ben and Ashliea catch up on old times.

Notes: I came up with the idea that Ysanne Isard deliberately put a computer virus into the databanks of the Imperial Security Bureau in order to obscure the fates of countless dissidents.

—-

Mon Cal Institute of Science
Coral City
Mon Calamari

The Mon Cal Institute of Science overlooked the western edge of Coral City’s reef. The speeder parked on a landing pad beneath its large transparisteel dome.

Ben, Troka and Ashliea stepped off the speeder while Sillen left the engine idling.

“Have to pick up my daughter from school. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Sillen waved with one hand.

Ben and Troka hefted their bags after Ashliea handed them keycards for their room.

“I’ll take you to your room in the student dorms first so you can drop off your bags. Then I’ll take you to administration so you can sign in and get your computer access handled.” Ashliea gestured towards the large double doors at the edge of the ferrocrete landing pad.

Ben followed her with Troka bringing up the rear. After passing through a cargo loading area, the trio entered an atrium below the large transparisteel dome.

Immediately the smells of a garden wafted into Ben’s nostrils. In front of them was a large indoor park with gracefully landscaped planters and terraces.

“This is the arboretum. I like coming here at sunset and doing part of my morning jog through here.”

Ben glanced upward to see a catwalk ringing the perimeter of the large dome.

“They have vendors that come through here each day from dozens of species. There’s a Naboo food stand run by a couple Gungans that’s there mid-week.”

Ben smiled. “Gotta love the taste of home.”

Ashliea led them to a central lift shaft and once they were inside punched in the floor. With a slight swishing noise the lift descended.

Through the transparisteel panels Ben noted water inside the shaft.

“Mon Cal hydrolator tech?” Ben asked.

“Yes. The deepest parts of the institute actually go underwater. The Mon Cals developed hydraulically operated lifts.”

Four floors down brought them to the student dorms. Room 36C turned out not to be too far from the hydrolator shaft.

Ben and Troka stepped into their room, consisting of a common area and kitchenette, two bedrooms and one refresher.

They dropped their bags, following Ashliea back to the hydrolator.

“Administration is one floor below the arboretum,” Ashliea explained and punched in the floor on the lift’s touchpad.

A male Mon Calamari with salmon hue greeted them. “You must be Captain Cozine and Sergeant Troka. I am Chalu Alik, of the School of Archaeology. Let me welcome you to the Mon Calamari Institute of Science.”

“That’s us,” Ben replied, shaking the man’s hand.

“I just have some forms for you to fill out.” Alik handed them two packets of flimsi and two stylus.

After the two filled out the forms and handed them to Alik he said, “I’ll hand these off to the personnel department. You two should be in our system by tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” Ben replied.

Alik nodded and trundled off.

“I have to get back to the clinic, however I can give you guys a better tour of the complex later on. But the welcome packet has a good map of the place,” Ashliea said, before writing down some information on a strip of flimsi and handing it to Ben. “My new commlink number in case you need anything.”

Ben dashed his own off on a stray piece of flimsi of his own and handed it to Ashliea.

“Here’s mine.”

“It’s good to see you guys again,” Ashliea said with a smile.

“It’s great to see you.” Ben smiled back at her.

“We should catch up. Maybe over dinner?” Ashliea said.

“Know a good place?”

“Tell you what, let’s meet at the Arboretum at 1730.”

“Sounds good.” Ben replied.

“Great, I’ll see you then.” Ashliea nodded and then turned and headed on her way.

Troka chirped to Ben.

“I’m sure her invitation included you as well.”

A chirp and a shrug.

“She said ‘we’ should catch up. She’s known you as long as she’s known me.”

A buzz and several chirps, all four eyes looking to the left and down.

“It’s actually a rain check, not a snow check, but I get the point.”

Troka chirped and shook his head.

“I get it, it’s a Talz idiom.”

Troka buzzed and canted his head quizzically.

“What do you mean I’m smiling like a kid?” Ben quirked an eyebrow as they walked back to the lift.

Troka chirped again while Ben punched in their floor on the touchpad in the hydrolator.

“Look, pal, I like being around her. She’s a good friend…” Ben exclaimed.

Another buzz and a chuckle.

“Well let’s just say it’s complicated and leave it at that!” Ben groaned as they walked back to Room 36C.

---

Arboretum
Mon Cal Institute of Science
1732

Ben felt the spring in his step as he walked into the Arboretum in time to see Ashliea standing there. She wore a simple blue tunic and black trousers, a pair of black flats.

“Sorry I’m a bit late,” Ben began.

“It’s okay.” Ashliea smiled.

The two suns of Mon Cala bathed the arboretum with a coppery red hue as they sank over the horizon.

“Troka decided to take a snow check on dinner.”

“Oh?” Ashliea asked, a quizzical look on her face.

“It’s a Talz idiom, evidently.” Ben shrugged.

Ashliea smirked. “So on another note do you want to go up or down?”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked.

“Upstairs to the Arboretum Food Court or Downstairs to the Undercaves Food Court. You pick,” Ashliea explained.

“I’m curious about these Undercaves you’re talking about,” Ben replied as the duo walked towards the hydrolator shaft.

Ashliea tapped the touchplate. “It’s the underwater observation deck built around the reef. At night the reefs light up with bioluminescent sealife.”

“Sounds neat,” Ben managed a faint smile.

They stepped into the hydrolator and the lift began its descent. Ben felt his hand shake again. Ashliea’s eyes flickered downward, before her eyes met his.

The lift stopped and they stepped out. Ben’s eyes scanned the room. An array of two story tall transparisteel windows encompassed most of the perimeter of the level, allowing near unobstructed views of the depths of the ocean.

Ashliea walked over to a server droid and made arrangements for a table for two. Ben took in the level’s ambiance, the soft yellow-white glow of well placed light fixtures, the array of tables. The full bar.

The droid guided Ben and Ashliea to their table, on the upper level of the Undercaves level. The two sat down as the droid left them a pair of menus.

“It’s been so long,” Ashliea began.

“Two years, five months, and twenty-two days.” Ben gave a wry grin.

“Do I need to scan you for cybernetic implants on your upcoming physical?” Ashliea raised an eyebrow.

“Ash, if I had any cybernetic implants I’d know the last time we were in the same location to the nanosecond,” Ben chuckled in reply.

“I’ll make doubly sure R77-D scans you for cybernetic implants.” Ashliea opened her copy of the menu, a smile of her own flittering across her face.

“You’re the doctor,” Ben shrugged as he looked through the drink menu.

“See anything you like?” Ashliea asked.

“Theed Aleworks does an excellent pilsner.”

“I think your homeworld does wine better, but this Ithorian Pale Ale sounds interesting.”

The server droid returned and both of them made their orders.

“So what brought you here to Mon Cala?” Ben asked.

“A thankfully isolated outbreak of the Krytos virus on Sanctuary. Then the Army assigned me to work with a Mon Calamari regiment here in time for the World Devastator attacks.”

“Force!” Ben exclaimed.

“I know most of where you’ve been is classified. But I’m glad that you’re alright.” Ashliea replied.

Ben’s eyes closed. His hand shook again. ‘Too many. Too many close calls. Force! Why can’t I just be in the moment with a good friend…’

“Ben?”

His eyes opened as he felt her hand atop his, she leaned closer. “When did that start?”

“Coruscant, 5 years ago. It was barely noticeable then.” Ben clenched his fist three times. The shaking stopped.

“Not to turn catching up into a psych evaluation, but we do have a therapist on staff. I recommend talking to her…”

Ben sighed. “I’ll book an appointment in the morning and see where that goes.”

“I’ll put the request in for you when you go in for your physical tomorrow.” Ashliea glanced over in time to see the server droid arriving.

He set their drinks and asked if they needed anything else. “Just a few more minutes,” Ashliea said.

The droid trundled off in a barely audible whir of servos and a soft scrape against the multi-hued tile floor.

“How about you, Ashliea? How have things been for you?”

“Mostly working. There’s a 21K I’m training for when I take leave in a few months.” She faintly smiled.

“The Chandrila 21K Series, right?”

“That’s right. It’ll be my first time home since…” A tremor in her voice.

“I…I didn’t mean to accidentally bring that up.”

“It’s okay, Ben. I need to go visit Chandrila again, to keep my search for my children going,” Ashliea replied, a light sniffle.

“I’ve also put some feelers out in my circles too.”

“Really? Force, Ben, that’s so sweet…” Ashliea’s eyes went wide.

“It’s the least I can do. You’ve been a good friend practically since I defected from the Empire.” Ben’s hand shook again.

“Strange as it sounds, it’s nice to know I’m not alone and that you’re willing to help me.” Ashliea put her hand back atop Ben’s shaking hand.

“If she wasn’t already dead I’d blast Ysanne Isard into her constituent atoms…” Ben grumbled.

“You’d have to get in line,” Ashliea wryly observed.

“I suppose toasting to the death of Isard isn’t in good taste?” Ben quipped.

“As terrible a woman as she was, it’s going to her level doing that.” Ashliea replied, placing her free hand on her drink.

Ben took hold of his own drink. “Perhaps we toast to our friendship then?”

Ashliea nodded. “To friendship.”

They touched glasses before taking their first pull of their drinks.

—-

“When we liberated Coruscant five years ago the most tragic part was the intentionally jumbled data in the Imperial Security Bureau’s databanks thanks to a computer virus she let free. That was Ysanne Isard’s way of twisting the knife into the galaxy, obscuring the fates of countless sentients disappeared by the ISB. For two credit’s I’d launch Isard into orbit!” - Captain Ben Cozine, New Republic Intelligence.

—

TBC

 

@devilinthedetails, thank you for your detailed feedback. I appreciate it greatly. I’m going back in time in my next chapter, detailing how Ben and Ashliea first met.

Also gotta character build Troka. I am worried about him sounding too much like a Chewbacca wannabe.

 

Turbid Waters of the Past

Summary: In 3 ABY Ashliea Delstee was a civilian physician and reservist with the reduced planetary defense force living on Chandrila with her husband and three children. Her life was turned upside down when she made inquiries into the death of her husband, Jace, leading to her arrest.

Notes: V for Vendetta was an inspiration behind the black bags over the dissident heads.

—-

"When the Rebel Alliance seized the port city of Salline, the Empire had to move quickly to remove the infestation." - General Maxmillian Veers, Imperial Army, 1 BBY.

—-

Imperial Security Bureau Field Office
Salline, Chandrila
3 ABY


“Keep moving!" The harsh command echoed from behind and to the right of Ashliea Delstee.

Once again, the plastoid cuffs dug into her wrists, causing a wince. The hood over her head obscured her vision, enveloping her in darkness. Rain pelted against her body, adding to her misery.

"Move, damn it!" another command barked.

A sickening thud followed as a rifle butt struck someone nearby.

Suppressing a sob, Ashliea prayed it wasn't the child. "Please, don't let it be the kid..."

“Quiet!” A harsh command.

A gloved hand gripped her upper arm, forcefully pulling her up. Pain shot through her shin as it collided with a hard surface, causing her to limp as she was forced into a seated position.

"Where are we going?" Ashliea mustered the courage to ask.

"You're being moved," a Stormtrooper replied coldly.

To her right, she heard a muffled groan, feeling the presence of one of her fellow captives pressed against her left side as they were crammed into the back.

Tears welled up in Ashliea's eyes as her heart raced in her chest. Trembling, she couldn't tell if it was from the rainwater or something else.

A moan came from her left, a young male in pain.

"He needs medical help," Ashliea pleaded, her voice muffled by the hood.

The sound of plastoid armor plates rattling filled the air as someone sat heavily to her right. Then, the vehicle's door closed.

"Silence, Rebel Scum. He'll receive plenty of attention where you're headed," the Stormtrooper beside her sneered, jabbing the barrel of his blaster carbine into her ribcage.

A cry of pain escaped her lips.

The cry blended with the hum of the antigrav engine as the vehicle lurched forward...

—

Route 201
Outside of Salline, Chandrila
3 ABY

“Transport departed.” Ben Cozine’s earpiece echoed the words with crackling static.

‘Eleven minutes. Two Imperial landspeeders. One ambush around the bend in the road.’ Ben thought to himself, as he aimed the A280 CFE down the road, scanning through the telescopic sight.

His crosshairs panned down the road towards the drainage ditches on either side, then to the tightly packed rocks behind a mesh built into the surrounding hillside. A grim smile. ‘Eight minutes. Then we blast the rocks on one side of this canyon. Then the other. Trap the vehicles in there.’

“Demo team ready. With some surprises for the Imps,” A young voice spoke.

“Alright Kiddo, triggering the rockslide is our first priority,” Ben replied.

“I know.” Kiddo’s voice echoed.

“Gun team ready.” Another report. Ben’s crosshairs scanned to the hillside across the road, an E-Web repeating blaster aimed down the slope.

“Acknowledged.” Ben replied. ‘Alright, sniper configuration is best. When the vehicle stops, go for the Vehicle Commander, lead vehicle then any Imp that’s barking orders.’

A whispered chirp to his right. Ben moved his eyes away from the A280’s telescopic sight, Troka had his bowcaster aimed down the same way.

“Gotcha pal,” Ben whispered back. ‘Troka’s got the same target. He and I aim at the same Imp. One shot for the transparisteel and the other for the person.’

“Vehicles entering the canyon.” The report.

“Fire shot one!” Ben ordered.

A blast and the clattering crash as the hillside dumped several metric tons of rock into the road.

‘Another few bends and the Imps should see the obstruction.’ Ben thought to himself.

“Convoy in canyon.” The observation team’s report.

“Fire shot two!”

The second blast. The canyon, with its multiple S-curves was now sealed off.

The lead vehicle’s headlights glowed as it came around the bend and stopped. Ben’s rifle snapped up, crosshairs aimed at the Imperial officer in his black uniform sitting in the vehicle commander’s seat. He squeezed the trigger. The Imperial officer slumped forward.

‘Bad idea to have the convoy commander in the lead vehicle.’ Ben thought.

Through his scope he saw the vehicle commander door on the second vehicle open and a Stormtrooper noncom running out. An explosion and the noncom hit the ground.

Both vehicles' hatches opened and the Stormtroopers debussed. Aggressive counterattack, a standard Imperial Stormtrooper reaction to ambush.

From the rear hatch on the lead vehicle one Stormtrooper ran out only to run into a proximity mine, blowing off both of his legs.

Then the E Web opened up…

——

"What's going on?" The Stormtrooper to Ashliea's right inquired.

'He must have forgotten to switch his comms to internal. Probably a rookie.' Ashliea speculated.

The rear hatch of the landspeeder swung open and the Stormtrooper disembarked, straight into a hail of blaster fire.

Ashliea winced. An ambush? Her eyes squeezed shut. 'I pray the Rebels don't resort to rockets on the vehicle…'

—-

Ben squeezed the trigger again, felling another Stormtrooper. The E-Web continued tearing into the dismounts.

Through his scope Ben watched the Stormtroopers head for the drainage ditch for cover from the E-Web.

“Surprise!” Came the shout over the comm circuit from the demolition team.

A third explosion echoed into the canyon, killing the three Stormtroopers attempting to use it as cover. The second vehicle shook from the shockwave.

Ben slung his A280 CFE. “Moving in!”

“You’re covered!” The gun team leader replied.

He drew the DL44 heavy blaster pistol off his hip. “Things are going close quarters, pal.”

Troka hefted his bow caster, switching his grip to the E11 blaster carbine he’d bolted beneath it for just such occasions.

“Demo team moving!” Kiddo announced as three other fighters, each with a blaster carbine or blaster rifle joined the fray.

—


Ashliea’s jaw clenched as she felt the vehicle lift up before slamming back to level. Pain radiated from the small of her back.

The blaster fire stopped.

“What’s happening?” The young woman to the far left of the four prisoners asked.

“I don’t know…I…”

Three blaster shots echoed.

—-

Ben cautiously descended the hill, prioritizing his safety. He knew better than to risk a tumble and potential injury. 'Such a reckless act would be a d’ikut move,' he thought.

First, he inspected the three Imperial soldiers lying in the drainage ditch. He swiftly fired a single blaster bolt to each of their heads.

The sound of gunfire echoed around him as the Chandrilan Resistance members followed suit, delivering fatal shots to the fallen Imperials.

Two members from the demolition team approached the lead vehicle. After a quick inspection of the front, they peered into the back.

"No captives here!"

"Approaching the second vehicle," Ben announced, breaking into a jog towards it.

Without hesitation, he fired a shot into the back of an Imperial soldier's head, who was sprawled face down on the road.

Upon peering inside, he discovered four captives. Two men and two women, their hands tied behind their backs and their faces obscured by black hoods.

"Rebel Alliance, we've come to free you!" Ben declared.

He hurried over and yanked the hood off the first woman, revealing a blonde woman in her thirties. Squinting against the bright light from the flashlight mounted on his shoulder, she blinked in surprise and relief.

—-

“Rebel Alliance, we’ve come to free you!”

The shout was muffled by the hood she wore, and suddenly the blackness was ripped away. Standing in front of her was a man with jet black hair in a tan waterproof jacket, a shoulder mounted lamp gleaming on his left side.

She squinted in the sudden light.

“Sorry about that,” the man exclaimed as he went to work on removing her seatbelt and helped her to her feet.

“Hold still, I’m gonna take a vibroblade to your plasticuffs.”

Ashliea nodded and the man turned her around and cut the cuffs away. She rubbed her wrists as she watched the Talz helping the older man sitting beside her out of his restraints.

“I’m a doctor, can I help?” Ashliea asked.

“Any of these people wounded?” The rebel asked.

“I’ll check them.” Ashliea managed.

“Check if they can walk, quick!” The Rebel said.

Ashliea nodded and got to work. She checked the older man first, noting he was cradling his left arm.

‘Probably broken. But he’s standing.’

Then the kid. He couldn’t be more than eighteen. Other than a large bruise under his swollen shut left eye he was ambulatory.

Than the young woman. She seemed more shaken than physically hurt.

Ashliea winced at the sting in both her shin and lower back. Her right floating ribs weren’t exactly too hot either.

“Are you okay?” The Rebel asked.

“Just a little shaken up. The Imps weren’t exactly gentle with us.”

“You should know that all of them are dead right now.”

The man stepped aside, revealing the Stormtrooper that had hit her with his blaster carbine lying face down in the road. Most of the man’s head had been blasted apart by a blaster bolt, and his armor smoked from impacts from directed energy weapons.

“Let’s get moving. The Imps are probably gonna scramble a reaction force here.” The Rebel insisted.

The Talz with him was ushering the other captives out of the landspeeder.

There were other Rebels, taking blasters and other supplies from fallen Imperials. Another man walked over with a satchel over one shoulder.

“Rig that into the fuel tank.”

The man with the satchel nodded and Ashliea watched him duck under the vehicle. ‘Must be some kind of demolition charge.’

Another Rebel was rigging a concussion grenade under a dead Imperial.

“We don’t do that here!” The Rebel said.

The other Rebel, little older than the teenager she had just examined looked up.

“You want to tamper with the dead, join the Extremists…”

The young man nodded and tucked the grenade back on his webbing.

“You were an Imperial EOD soldier, weren’t you?” Ashliea observed.

The man sighed and nodded.

—-

"You were an Imperial EOD soldier, weren't you?"

Ben let out a weary sigh and nodded. For a brief moment, his gaze met the woman's eyes, a striking shade of blue, reminiscent of the skies back on his homeworld of Naboo...

"Ten minutes, everyone, and we'll be out of here," Ben commanded through his commlink.

A Rebel soldier swiftly extracted the hard drives from a computer system near the vehicle commander station of the first vehicle.

'What a beauty she is...' a stray thought crossed Ben's mind. He noticed that she was shivering, so he reached into a pouch on his gear and draped a waterproof ground sheet around her shoulders.

"We've set up explosives all around the site. They'll detonate in five minutes," Kiddo's voice crackled through the commlink.

"Alright, folks, let's withdraw from here!" Ben ordered as the Rebels blended into the rainy Chandrila night.

—-

TBC

 

Between the time frame, the integration of non-Human characters and the archaeology aspect, I'm intrigued. I'm adding this fic to my Watch List so I can keep track of it.

Yes, please. I'm always interested in seeing other authors' takes on alien characters and cultures.

 

Thank you for your kind words, @Seldes_Katne. Funnily enough I was inspired to have Troka’s weapon being a bowcaster because I’ve heard Talz called “snow Wookiees” on YouTube somewhere and I was reading Star Wars: The Essential Guide to Weapons and Technology. The latter was a Christmas gift my uncle gave me as a teenager in the nineties.

 

Choppy Waters

Summary: Ben deals with memories of when he first met Ashliea. Troka and Ben undergo their medical exam.

Notes: I appreciate the feedback that I receive. Thanks to @devilinthedetails and @Seldes_Katne for your kind comments.

——

Room 36C, Dormitory
Mon Cal Institute of Science
Coral City, Mon Calamari
12 ABY

Ben blinked his eyes and stood by his bed. ‘Hell of a thing to dream about, the first time I met Ashliea on Chandrila.’

He set about fixing the bed and changing his clothes before sauntering into the small common area. Rummaging through the cupboard he spied a jar of caf.

Ben grinned and prepared himself a steaming cup. Troka lumbered out of his own bedroom and chirped.

“This is only my first cup for the day,” Ben began and turned towards his friend. He took a sniff and sipped the caf.

Troka buzzed and canted his head.

“We’ll grab breakfast in the Arboretum before we get to the Med Center for our exams.” Ben took another sip.

Troka chirped a question.

“R77-D and Ashliea will be conducting our physicals…”

Troka let out a bellow and Ben stepped back a pace.

“R77-D not R70! You’ve got your med droids mixed up!” Ben exclaimed.

Troka let out a steady stream of angry chirps and buzzes.

“Of course I remember how Arseventy could use an adjustment to his bedside manner…” Ben interjected.

Troka chirped. Ben laughed.

“Yes…an attitude adjustment with a hydrospanner and a laser torch would suffice.”

Troka buzzed a question.

“I’m sure R77-D is nice, or at least not a bantha’s rump like R70.”

Troka chirped.

“Sure, let’s head for breakfast.” Ben walked towards the door, cup of caf in hand…

—-

Med Center
Mon Cal Institute of Science
Coral City, Mon Calamari
12 ABY

Ashliea gazed wearily at the faded photograph displayed on her computer screen. With a heavy heart, she gently traced her fingers over the image of three young children - two boys and a girl.

‘Darro will turn seventeen tomorrow... that's nine birthdays I've missed since the Imperial Security Bureau tore us apart,’ Ashliea thought.

Just as she was lost in her thoughts, a refined Coruscanti accent broke her reverie.

"Your 0830 appointment is here, Doctor," the voice announced.

Ashliea turned her chair to find R77-D, the GH-7 Polis Massan medical droid, floating into the room.

"Thank you, Sevendee," Ashliea replied, rising from her chair and grabbing a datapad from her desk. She locked her computer terminal and made her way past the examination room towards the far side door.

As she opened the door, she caught sight of Ben and Troka engrossed in a vid playing on the monitor in the waiting room.

"Mon Cals certainly have some intriguing soap operas," Ben remarked, standing up.

"They do take some getting used to, but they're surprisingly entertaining," Ashliea replied, stepping into the room.

"Congratulations, ma'am," Ben said, his eyes briefly glancing at the new major's rank insignia on her shoulders.

"Ben, you don't have to be so formal," Ashliea said, a warm smile gracing her lips.

"If I may ask, what's with the uniform?" Ben inquired, while Troka chimed in with his own question.

"There's a joint training exercise happening between a Wookie Regiment and the Mon Cals, and I'm assisting their medical staff with physicals this week," Ashliea explained.

Troka chirped and buzzed.

“There are Wookiees that live in coastal environments,” Ashliea explained.

Troka nodded and buzzed as R77-D hovered into the room.

“See, that’s not Arseventy at all,” Ben turned towards Troka.

“You’re still mad about that?” Ashliea asked.

“I’m not going to even translate his angry tirade earlier when he thought Arseventy was conducting this exam.” Ben winced.

Troka chirped and canted his head.

“Do you know how much trouble we’d get into if we decided to go through with that?” Ben exclaimed.

“Yeah, that’s Destruction of a New Republic Droid…it’s got a stiff jail sentence.” Ashliea replied.

—-

Troka's heightened sense of smell allowed him to perceive Ben and Ashliea's interactions in a unique way. The pheromones they emitted seemed to amplify their emotions, as if their feelings were being broadcasted loudly.

‘Human mating rituals are truly peculiar,’ Troka mused to himself, mentally recalling every interaction between Ben and Ashliea since they first met at the Spaceport the previous day.

Troka noticed that Ben appeared less troubled than before, as he smiled in response to something Ashliea said about the Wookie Regiment.

‘Humans can be quite peculiar at times,’ Troka thought, intrigued by their behavior.

Then, he overheard Ben and Ashliea discussing the condescending medical droid, Arseventy.

Ashliea casually brushed a stray lock of hair behind her left ear. "Ben, I'll take care of your examination."

Ben smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Doctor."

Troka found it curious that Ben addressed her with her professional title, just as Ashliea turned to face him.

"I hope you don't mind Sevendee conducting your examination," Ashliea said.

"Not at all, as long as he isn't an arrogant d'ikut!" Troka replied in Talz.

—-

Troka emitted a series of chirps and buzzes.

"I see you've learned some Mandalorian obscenities from Ben," Ashliea remarked with a smile.

Troka chirped again, seeking clarification.

"I apologize for any negative experiences you've had with medical droids," Sevendee began.

Troka buzzed inquisitively.

"Yes, both dialects of your language are stored in my databanks," Sevendee replied.

Troka chirped yet another question.

"Indeed, a Basic speech modulator was added as an aftermarket upgrade when I was acquired by the institute."

Troka chirped one final question.

"Unfortunately, it remains a mystery why some droids develop unpleasant personalities. However, I'm glad to have made a better impression on you," Sevendee responded, hovering towards the examination rooms. This left Ben and Ashliea alone in the waiting room.

“Well I’ll be a d’ikut. I actually think those two are getting along,” Ben observed.

Ashliea chuckled. “I worked with his predecessor, Arseventy, for nearly five years, and I’m equally mystified why R70 has gotten more abrasive and condescending.”

“Hey, maybe a memory wipe might help,” Ben joked.

“I had considered it, but when they reassigned me here to Mon Calamari I warned the new physician what he was getting into.” Ashliea sighed with a mix of amusement and resignation as she and Ben headed to the other examination room.

Once they were inside Ashliea handed Ben a piece of flimsi with a perscription on it. Ben fixed her with a quizzical look.

“It’s for melatonin. I use it myself, and it’s helped me sleep,” Ashliea explained.

“Thank you.” Ben managed a faint smile.

“So why a second physical? I thought that New Republic Intelligence sent you our recent exams?” Ben asked.

“There’s a diver’s physical I have to put you two through. It’s a local requirement since parts of the site on Sanctuary require diving.” Ashliea headed to a computer terminal and punched in some command.

“Take your shirt off and lie down,” Ashliea directed.

Ben complied and lay on the examination table. A diagnosis arch sprang from its housing and covered him from neck to foot.

“Lie still and let the scan finish.” Ashliea turned around to face him.

Ben felt a certain warmth and a strange buzzing noise filled his ears.

The arch retracted. Ben sat up and put his shirt back on.

“I’ll let you know if I see anything iffy come up in further evaluation, but up front you have a clean bill of health,” Ashliea said.

“Thank you. Will you be accompanying us to Sanctuary next week?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be relieving Doctor Cody for the upcoming rotation.” Ashliea punched a couple more commands into the computer terminal.

“Rotation?” Ben replied.

Ashliea nodded. “We rotate staff between Sanctuary and here every 4-5 weeks.”

Ben mentally filed the information away. “Would that be Dr. Zahara Cody you’re relieving?”

“Yes, actually. You know her?” Ashliea asked.

“Ran across her a time or two during my travels.” Ben shrugged.

“I’d love to chat about how you know Dr. Cody some more, but there’s a Wookie regiment’s medical staff that needs my assistance.”

“Maybe at dinner tonight?” Ben asked.

Ashliea smiled and blushed. “I’d like that.”

“So it’s a date then?” Ben grinned.

“I’ll see you at 1830. Meet at the Arboretum?” Ashliea asked.

“I’ll be there.”

—-

TBC

 

Slack Tide

Summary: Preparations continue for the next expedition to Sanctuary.

Notes: I figured that I’d have Mirax working for the Institute and Corran being the Executive Officer of an X-Wing Squadron on Mon Calamari.

—

Arboretum
Mon Cal Institute of Science
Coral City, Mon Calamari
1742

"Quite an eventful afternoon you had," Sillen commented as she skillfully landed the airspeeder on the Arboretum landing pad.

"Getting 2,500 Wookies settled into the medical system here on Mon Cala was quite the challenge. And some of the older Wookies were a bit hesitant about seeing human doctors..." Ashliea replied.

"I can't say I blame them, considering what the Empire did on Kashyyyk." Sillen shuddered.

"Don't remind me... those so-called 'Doctors' evaluating Wookies solely on their fitness for hard labor..." Ashliea winced at the very concept.

"It was definitely a dark chapter in humanity's history," Sillen reflected.

"There were a couple of older Wookies who simply refused to trust me. Their Wookie officers had to intervene," Ashliea shared.

"Well, at least you have that dinner date with Ben tonight," Sillen teased, winking mischievously.

"Sillen, it's not like that! We're just having dinner together." Ashliea blushed.

"Oh, really? Your words say one thing, but your blush says another," Sillen chuckled, her eyes crinkling with amusement.

"I'm just happy to see Ben, that's all," Ashliea shrugged.

"If you were a Quarren, your chromatophores would be flashing like crazy," Sillen grinned. Ashliea gave Sillen a disbelieving look as they entered the Arboretum.

As they entered the Arboretum, they were greeted by the sight of a blue-green Quarren male. He turned around and smiled, making his way towards Sillen. The two embraced, sharing a tender kiss.

"And how are you, my Darling of the Deep?" the Quarren male asked.

"Great. And where is our little Sea Anemone?" Sillen inquired, their embrace slowly coming to an end.

The man pointed towards a small Quarren girl who was happily running around with a group of Mon Calamari and human children.

"Oh, hi Ashliea, good to see you again," the Quarren man greeted.

"Nice to see you too, Squidward," Ashliea replied with a playful smile.

Ashliea watched as the children played, laughing. A wistful sigh passed her lips.

“Are you okay?” Sillen walked over and asked.

“It’s just really sweet to see kids just being kids and not caring whether their playmates are Mon Calamari, Quarren or human,” Ashliea replied.

“It truly is. Children have a way of seeing past our differences and just enjoying each other’s company…” Sillen replied before she turned her head.

“Nralin Wallusk we do NOT spray ink at people!” Sillen shouted before she strode towards the running and shouting kids.

Ashliea couldn’t help but crack a smile at the scene of Nralin chasing her playmates about, spraying ink at them with Sillen in hot pursuit of her wayward offspring.

“Dear, give me a hand with our slippery little deep-sea darling!” Sillen called out.

“Kids…” Squidward groaned and joined in the chase.

Ashliea stepped to one side only to get splattered with ink across the front of her trousers.

“Nralin Wallusk!” Sillen admonished her little girl.

The small child stopped and walked over to Ashliea.

“Now, what do we say to Dr. Ashliea?” Sillen prompted.

“Sorry Doctor Ashliea…” the little girl sniffled.

“It’s okay. I had to change out of my uniform anyway.”

“For your date?” Sillen teased.

“You’re still going on about that?” Ashliea asked.

“I’d hate for you to be late…” Sillen teased before she felt a tug on the hem of her pants. “Yes, Little One?”

“Mama, what’s date?” Nrallin asked.

“It’s where grownups meet and have fun.”

“Oh, like a playdate?” Nrallin asked.

“Uhm, yes sweetie…” Sillen scooped up her child before she turned to Ashliea. “Sorry about the ink.”

“Kids being kids,” Ashliea shrugged before she walked to the hydrolator shaft.

She pulled her commlink from her pocket and dialed Ben’s number. “Ben, do you think we could meet at 1900 instead? Okay. Great. I’ll explain later.”

—-

Arboretum
Mon Cal Institute of Science
Coral City, Mon Calamari
1838

“For the last time, Troka, I don’t think it’s a date,” Ben protested as the two of them stepped out of the hydrolator.

Troka gave a knowing look and chirped a response.

“Oh, so out of curiosity how do things like that work for your people?” Ben asked as he looked up at the taller Talz.

Troka buzzed an answer.

“No, I don’t think presenting Ashliea with a freshly killed animal would be a human dating ritual.” Ben chuckled.

Troka chirped another response and canted his head to the left.

“Okay, I’d have to cook it first. Then serve it with some side dishes, maybe a bottle of wine…” Ben ticked off each task on the fingers of his hand.

Troka buzzed and nodded.

“I see your point. Cooking a steak and all the sides could be akin to presenting her a fresh kill from a certain point of view.” Ben shrugged.

Troka chirped as he glanced upward where a large banner dropped from the catwalk of the Arboretum emblazoned with the words: Welcome Wookies!

Ben sniffed the air, the aroma of spices and meat drifting downward. This was combined with several Wookie barks and growls.

“Have fun at the Welcome Wookies event buddy…” Ben smirked only to have Troka give him a tight hug.

“Hey, I’m not in the market for a chiropractor!” Ben protested.

Troka laughed, chirped a farewell and headed over to mingle with the Wookies beginning to flow in.

Ben glanced at his chronometer. Grabbing a snack wasn’t in the cards, but there was a small tapcaf cart nearby. He headed over, bought himself a small cup and sipped at it as he waited for Ashliea.

The hydrolator opened and Ashliea stepped out. Ben noticed the wine red blouse offset by her black pants and the smile on her face right off the mynock. His heart jumped. ‘She looks good in anything.’

“I see you still arrive awkwardly early,” Ben quipped as he took a sip of his caf.

“Like you don’t do the same?” Ashliea challenged.

“We’re similar in that regard, then.” Ben replied.

“So any thoughts on dinner?” Ashliea thought.

“I’ll defer to your expertise since you’ve been living here for two years.” Ben countered.

“Oh, I know this really nice promenade. It’s not too far from here. It’s got a little bit of everything. Sillen’s husband, Squidward, recommends it,” Ashliea replied.

“Squidward? Interesting name for a Quarren,” Ben observed.

“That’s what his name translates to in Basic. It’s too hard to pronounce for human vocal cords,” Ashliea replied.

“That explains it.” Ben shrugged.

Ashliea headed towards the other side of the Arboretum.

“The monorail station is on the other side. We’ll take it from there to get to Tidepool station. The Promenade is nearby.” Ashliea explained.

“So why 1900?”

“Sillen’s kid sprayed me with ink.” Ashliea gave an embarrassed smile.

“That’ll do it.” Ben rolled his eyes as they stepped out onto the platform waiting for the monorail.

—-

Tidepool Promenade
Coral City, Mon Calamari

Mirax Horn gazed out at the vast expanse of the horizon, finding solace in the view as she leaned against the sturdy railing. The sound of approaching footsteps caused her to turn, her eyes lighting up as she saw Corran making his way towards her, a steaming cup of tea clutched in his right hand.

He planted a gentle kiss on her lips before extending the cup towards her. "Here, this should ease your stomach," he said with concern etched on his face.

"Thank you, my love," Mirax managed a weak smile.

Corran raised an eyebrow. "Are you absolutely sure you're fit to fly?"

Mirax nodded, her confidence unwavering after a sip of tea. "The medical droid gave me a clean bill of health."

"I know, but I can't help but worry. It's my duty as your husband," Corran replied, stepping closer to her.

A mischievous glint danced in Mirax's eyes as she turned to face him, setting the cup on a small bench nearby. "So, you see me as a duty?"

Corran's arm encircled her waist, pulling her closer. "Only the most sacred one," he whispered.

Mirax gave a teasing smile. "Good answer.”

At that moment, Corran leaned in and their lips met in a tender kiss. They savored the connection before reluctantly parting.

"And besides, I flew the cargo run to Sanctuary just last month," Mirax brushed a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear, a hint of pride in her voice.

Corran's concern lingered as he asked, "But were you still experiencing morning sickness?"

Mirax nodded, her expression softening. "A little. But don't worry, I have a co-pilot for this run. One of the esteemed staff members from the Mon Calamari Institute."

A sense of relief washed over Corran's face as he squeezed her hand. "Alright, just promise me you'll take care of yourself up there."

Mirax smiled. "I promise, my dear. With you by my side, everything will be just fine."

“So how does it feel to have a steady contract with the Mon Calamari Institute of Science?” Corran asked, his hand atop Mirax’s.

“A little routine and sometimes boring, but the archaeological site means steady pay.”

“Who’d have thought a former independent smuggler would fly routine cargo flights for a bunch of scientists.” Corran teased.

“Hey, it’s a change of pace, especially for an expectant mother.” Mirax guided her husband’s hand to her abdomen.

Corran’s thumb teased over her abdomen. “So when’s your next run?”

“Beginning of the next week. I’m ferrying some new personnel as well as some supplies to the site.” Mirax retrieved the small cup and took another sip.

“The Squadron’s going to be passing by Sanctuary too,” Corran mused.

“So I can call Osprey One if I need a few X-Wings to support?” Mirax grinned.

“If our schedule aligns I might even fly as escort. I do have a new wingman who could use training in that task.”

“Being the Executive Officer has its perks, hmm.” Mirax took another sip of her coffee before sitting down by the bench.

“Oh yes,” Corran replied.

“I’m proud of you.” Mirax leaned against him, and Corran wrapped his arm around her waist.

After a few moments Mirax felt Corran’s weight shift.

“Something on your mind?” Mirax sat up, her head on his shoulder.

“Just something from the daily Intelligence Report that I’ve been mulling,” Corran replied.

—-

TBC

 

Wavetops

Summary: A blast from the past. Corran Horn realizes Ben Cozine has some history on Corellia.

Notes: Just getting the cast gathered. I have Imperial Remnant matters coming next.

—-

Tidepool Promenade
Coral City, Mon Calamari

The single moon of Mon Cala cast a soft yellow-white glow over the seascape as Ben and Ashliea strolled along the circular perimeter of the Tidepool Promenade.

Below them, large boulders encircled a deep tidepool. Ashliea gestured with her right hand, sweeping it across the horizon.

"At high tide, the pool fills up to that first-floor patio," she explained.

"So that's why the tables and chairs are made of duracrete," Ben remarked, peering down three stories.

"Yeah, and that's also why the building has so many big transparisteel windows. It offers a stunning view when the tides are high," Ashliea added.

"It's like a reverse aquarium," Ben mused as they approached a landing with a spiral staircase.

As they did, a woman with dark hair and a man with brown hair and a beard stood up from a nearby bench. The woman waved and walked towards them, her partner following closely behind. Ben hesitated for a moment before joining Ashliea in approaching them.

"Hey Mirax, how are you?" Ashliea greeted.

"Doing fine, except for the food that refuses to stay down," Mirax replied, her expression slightly troubled.

"It'll pass after the first trimester... just in time for the cravings," Ashliea reassured her.

“Oh joy, I’ll be the size of a small moon before I give birth.” Mirax managed a small smile.

After a pause Mirax indicated the bearded man standing beside her. “Ashliea this is my husband, Corran Horn. Corran, Ashliea is my doctor.”

Ashliea shook the man’s hand. Then she said, “Mirax and Corran Horn, this Ben Cozine. He just arrived to work with us at the dig site.”

Ben shook hands with Corran and Mirax in turn.

“Mirax is the captain of the Pulsar Skate, she flies our logistics flights.” Ashliea continued. Corran seemed to be studying Ben’s face.

“Don’t I know you?” Corran asked.

“Perhaps, I do travel a fair bit for work,” Ben replied noncommittally.

“Mhm,” Corran shrugged.

Mirax turned towards her husband with a curious expression on her face.

“Have you ever visited Corellia?” Corran asked.

“A handful of times, but I don’t recall having run across you.” Ben raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Huh, I’m sure I’ll recall it eventually.” Corran shrugged.

“I suppose.” Ben shrugged. Ashliea gave him a quizzical look.

Mirax broke in. “Anyway I don’t want to keep you guys, so I’ll see you all later.”

Corran and Mirax walked towards the monorail station after the pleasantries. Ashliea turned to Ben. “What was that about?”

“Corran used to work for CorSec, around the time I was working there for the Rebel Alliance.” Ben shrugged.

“So that’s why I was getting a lawman versus fugitive vibe!” Ashliea exclaimed.

“I’m sure that those charges were dropped since the Empire no longer has any authority on Corellia, but still…” Ben replied.

“Ben, you have one interesting life story,” Ashliea remarked as they descended the stairs…

—-

General Crix Madine’s Office
New Republic Intelligence HQ
Coruscant

After looking through another series of reports from different sectors Crix Madine locked his computer terminal and stepped out of his office.

P2-V, the secretarial droid’s servos whirred as the protocol droid turned to face him.

“Excuse me, General Madine, what shall I inform any callers?”

“I’m making my rounds,” Madine replied.

“I see, sir. And Captain Trandia?”

“Tell her that her maternity leave can start one day early.” Madine grinned.

“Yes sir,” the droid said.

He began his circuit through the building that housed New Republic Intelligence, noting the construction efforts through the facility. An old ferrocrete Imperial Seal lay in chunks on the floor surrounded by strips of police tape. Workers were hauling away chunks in antigrav carts.

Footsteps from behind. Madine turned to see Iella Wessiri walking into the corridor. A woman on a mission.

Madine turned to face her.

“Just got an interesting HoloNet call from Mon Cala,” Iella began.

“Oh?” Madine replied.

“From Corran Horn,” Iella continued.

“CorSec related?” Madine asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Ben Cozine was a person of interest in the deaths of several Imperial military officers during assorted assignments there.”

“I remember, Iella, I sent him on those missions. He and Troka were instrumental in eliminating key planners for some big moves against us following the Battle of Hoth.” Madine ticked numbers off his fingers as he spoke.

“Well Corran ran across Ben on Mon Cala and gave me a call last night.” Iella stepped a bit closer for some privacy.

“Alright, what happened?” Madine asked.

“Well, I did convince him that these were Rebel Alliance covert operations. I did dig into CorSec’s case file, as a precaution. Nothing serious to worry about.”

Madine nodded. “And you’re keeping a close eye on the situation in case anything else develops?”

“Of course.” Iella replied.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

Madine continued his walk around Intelligence HQ. One of the latest reports from the Deep Core desk kicked something loose in his mind.

—-

Coral City Spaceport
New Republic Military Annex
Mon Calamari

Lieutenant Colonel Corran Horn walked out towards the flight line, his helmet under one arm. His wingman, Captain Vero Dolphe, fell into step to his left.

“Escort training, Boss?” Dolphe asked.

“You know it. I hope you’re well rested.” Corran turned his head.

“I am ready, sir.”

Corran sniffed the air. “Hope you got some sleep.”

“A reasonable amount, Boss.” Dolphe grinned.

“You and our Hapan Liaison Officer are really hitting it off.” Corran threw his wingman a wry grin.

“One year yesterday.” Dolphe’s grin widened.

“Congratulations.” Corran headed to his X-Wing as Dolphe walked to his own. The latter threw Horn a jaunty salute.

After commencing liftoff procedures the two X-Wings formed up west of Coral City.

“Osprey Flight, lock S-foils in attack position.” Corran ordered.

Whistler chirped in an interrogative tone.

“Training flight.” Corran replied.

“Coral City Control to Osprey Flight. Coordinates for Pulsar Skate rendezvous transmitted.” A female voice over the comms.

“Acknowledged.” Corran replied, and turned his fighter. With a quick glance he noted Dolphe’s turn mirroring his.

They arrived at the rendezvous coordinates with the vaguely sea-creature shaped Pulsar Skate.

“Osprey Flight, Pulsar Skate. Come to join me on my cargo run to Heurkea Floating City?” Mirax’s voice over the comm brought a smile to Corran’s face.

“Yes, dear.” Corran replied, steering his X-Wing above and alongside the Pulsar Skate.

“Osprey Six, take station ahead of us.” Corran gave the order and watched Dolphe take his assigned station.

His eyes scanned the instrument panel, ensuring his weapons and shields were in training mode. It would take a single pull of a switch to toggle the weapons and shields to battle mode.

‘Not for right now. Just a training exercise.’ Corran thought.

“So what’s the cargo?” Corran asked.

“Spare parts and consumables for the Remote Operating Vehicle testing facility.” Mirax replied.

“On another note, thanks in advance for taking part in this exercise.” Corran glanced over one shoulder.

“Glad to help. Reminds me of the old days.”

His mind's eye envisioned Mirax’s sly smile at the shared memories of the Coruscant and Thyferra campaigns. He shook his head. Better to stay alert.

“Osprey Flight, reading a group of signals headed your way. Enemy fighters…”

“Acknowledged.” Corran replied, “Whistler, record the engagement.”

The chirp in the affirmative sounded. “Also, remind me to thank No. 121 Squadron for simulating the enemy when we get home.”

Whistler chirped back in the affirmative once again.

“Expecting the enemy to come outta the sun, sir.” Dolphe’s voice echoed over the comms.

“Watch out for attacks from below as well!” Corran cautioned.

“Copy…standby I’ve got three…no four marks coming from between the suns!” Dolphe shouted as he turned his fighter in a banking turn to face the interlopers.

Two of the V-Wing Airspeeders dove after the Pulsar Skate while the other two were dogfighting Dolphe hundreds of meters above.

Corran turned to pursue the two V-Wings attacking the Pulsar Skate. The V-Wing’s split in separate directions, one climbing away and the other diving.

Corran went for the climbing fighter. Distantly he heard Dolphe say, “Splash one!”

The climbing fighter reversed course, firing as it went. Corran opened fire. A tone warbled in his comms.

“Splash two!” Corran reported, scanning around him. Below was the Pulsar Skate.

“I’m down!” Dolphe’s voice accompanied by another warbling.

In the distance Corran saw two V-Wings and Dolphe’s X-Wing hovering in a designated area.

Just then the remaining two V-Wing’s went hurtling headlong for the Pulsar Skate in tight formation with their scramjets engaged.

‘Gotta be quick!’ Corran selected his proton torpedoes and aimed…

The affirmative lock tone sounded.

“Looks like both of you are dead.” Corran spoke over the comm.

“Apparently, but had this been an actual fight the Pulsar Skate would be limping in with only one escort.” A male voice echoed.

“Touché, Grandma One.” Corran remarked.

“Grandma One?” Mirax’s voice cut in.

“Our Squadron Commander had become a newly minted grandma when the squadron was formed.” Grandma One’s voice cut in.

“That explains it. Wait, Maree Vanda was the lead test pilot for the V-Wing, right?” Mirax asked.

“Precisely.”

“Any reason why Grandma isn’t flying today? Did she need a nap?” Corran teased.

“She’s taking some leave for her granddaughter’s birthday. And I’ll be sure to pass that quip along, Horn…”

“Give them both my regards,” Corran smirked.

“I hear congratulations are in order for you and Mirax?” Grandma One quipped.

“How’d you know?” Corran asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Did you forget my wife works in real estate and showed Mirax a couple places?” Grandma One retorted.

“Right.” Corran replied.

“Speaking of which, has she picked anything out yet?”

“Not yet. There’s a couple more places in Heurkea Floating City she wants to look at.” Corran glanced over at the Pulsar Skate.

“Hey, just want to make sure that wherever we stay it’s a home enough for children!” Mirax interjected.

A chorus of laughter before Grandma One broke in. “Hey, we’ll form up with your wingman and give the Pulsar Skate a full escort.”

“Way to make a lady feel special with two flights worth of fighter escort…” Mirax beamed as the two X-Wings and four V-Wings assumed a protective formation around the Pulsar Skate.

—-

TBC

 

Gathering Storm

Summary: Enter the Imperial Remnant. Following her failed campaign Admiral Daala finds herself functioning as a goodwill ambassador between the different warlord factions.

Notes: As my re-read of Darksaber continues I feel a lot more could’ve been done with the squabbling warlords conflict.

——

Orbit
Supreme Warlord Harrsk HQ
Deep Core

Admiral Natasi Daala examined the datapad before her, taking in the specifics of the personnel file on the Lieutenant recently chosen by Harrsk as her Aide de Camp.

'Lieutenant Korde Daivand. Able. Proficient. Interestingly, she's also a graduate of the COMPNOR reeducation program from Chandrila.' Daala thought to herself.

"We're entering the orbit of Harrsk’s HQ, ma’am." The Aide reported from the cockpit of the Lambda Shuttle.

"Appreciated, Lieutenant." Daala lifted her eyes from the datapad.

Four Stormtroopers quietly occupied the passenger section of the shuttle.

"We've been granted permission to land, ma’am."

"Thank you, lieutenant."

The shuttle initiated its descent towards the planet, sailing past the Imperial Star Destroyer Shockwave. Daala reflected. 'Commander Kratas is on board, carrying out an inspection tour. I eagerly await his report.'

As the shuttle dipped below the Shockwave, Daala cast a glance towards the cockpit where Lieutenant Daivand was seated behind the shuttle's flight crew. 'Kratas was kind enough to provide me with a more comprehensive file on Lieutenant Daivand.'

The shuttle soared over the rugged landscape, with rivers of lava carving through the terrain. Daala mentally bookmarked to inquire Lieutenant Daivand about what she knew of Harrsk’s mining activities here.

The shuttle landed on the pad. Daala clenched a fist in her black-gloved hand, remembering the months spent as an independent ambassador among the scattered and decidedly fragmented warlords. She gritted her teeth.

'Increasingly absurd titles—from Grand Admiral to High Admiral, to Supreme Commander, to Omnipotent Battle Leader all to outdo their nearest rivals.' Daala’s eyes narrowed as the shuttle’s ramp hissed open.

The four Stormtroopers exited first, securing the landing pad, followed by Lieutenant Daivand and Daala herself.

Sulfurous fumes hissed from the ground like tired sighs as Daala crossed the landing pad, flanked by her new aide to her left and the four Stormtroopers forming a vanguard to her front.

The tall stone door at the end of the landing pad slid open with a grinding groan along its track. A dozen Stormtroopers walked from the pad, forming two straight lines facing one another.

A man with jet black hair with a glowing yellow droid’s eye and a single large scar in lieu of the left side of his face walked forward.

“Greetings, Supreme Warlord Harrsk.” Daala began.

“Welcome, Admiral Daala. Your reputation precedes you.” Harrsk fell into step at Daala’s right side while Lieutenant Daivand hung back to her left.

“I am honored to have such a heroine among us and pleased you’ve come to me. I do hope Lieutenant Daivand proves an asset to you.” Harrsk continued walking at a steady clip, through the doors.

‘Trying to make me feel indebted to you. Typical, Harrsk.’ Daala thought as Harrsk continued his monologue.

“I am honored to have such a great war hero among us—and pleased that you have at last come to me after wasting so much time with my weaker rivals.”

‘There wouldn’t be any of this pointless squabbling if you and the others would only unite and turn those considerable resources under your control on the Rebels not each other…’ Daala fumed inwardly as they walked into a large room with high ceilings and several viewscreens on the walls.

“My Command Center,” Harrsk indicated. Several Imperial officers and soldiers monitored dozens of workstations and similar matters.

An Imperial officer wearing the uniform and rank insignia of an Imperial Navy Commander approached.

“The morning report, sir.” The wiry man with a graying brown widow’s peak said.

“Thank you, Commander,” Harrsk replied and the Watch Officer quickly left the scene. As soon as the officer was out of earshot, Harrsk turned towards Daala. “We can talk in my office.”

Daala looked to her entourage and gave a single nod. Lieutenant Daivand motioned for the four Stormtroopers to follow her. Harrsk’s Watch Officer guided the five to the breakroom while Daala followed Harrsk into the ornate office.

As soon as the door closed Harrsk made his pitch. “I know of your mission over the last year. An admirable mission of unification to attempt to end this endless civil war - but your tactics are all wrong. Why? Because they are not the Imperial way.”

Daala looked down at Harrsk, due to the man’s shorter stature, saying nothing.

Harrsk continued. “You are a heroine whose word carries weight and that is the only reason for your safe travel in the Core Systems. However it is time you ended this game. Throw your lot in with the most powerful warlord…”

“And that would be you, Harrsk?” Daala replied.

Harrsk continued, a half-smile on his face. “With you as my second in command, I will have the power to bring those pretenders to their knees and forge them into a fighting force. Traitors will need to be purged of course…”

Daala cut him off. “I understand what you’re saying, Supreme Warlord and your fleet is indeed impressive.”

She gestured towards a monitor on Harrsk’s office wall, indicating a quartet of Imperial Star Destroyers in orbit of the planet. Then she continued. “But I’m not so convinced that you could so easily overrun your competitors.”

“Oh? I fail to see your argument, Daala.” Harrsk’s good eye narrowed as his droid eye glowed brighter.

“The moment you become stronger the others would form alliances and the struggle would become bloodier still. We must focus the fleets on a common goal. Act independently if you must, but meet and discuss overall strategy so we discuss appropriate Rebel targets and inject our venom where it will cause the most damage.”

Daala raised a gloved fist, her green-eyed glare fixating directly into Harrk’s heterochromic eyes. “It serves no purpose for imperials to be at each others throats.”

Harrsk chuckled, his smile stretching across the intact side of his face, his scarred side remaining unmoved. “I see now why your battles were the epitome of failure, Admiral. It is little wonder that Grand Moff Tarkin sequestered you where you could cause no harm while the rest of us continued the real fight for the Empire…”

Daala’s response died in her throat as one of the monitors showed dozens of crimson-colored Victory-class Star Destroyers converging on the system.

“Is this some sort of drill?” Daala asked, incredulous.

“No! It’s High Admiral Terradoc…” Harrsk glowered.

—-

Outer Perimeiter Orbit
Supreme Warlord Harrsk HQ

‘A nebula and quite a lot of floating industrial debris. Perfect cover.’ Lieutenant Jarro Pasbu thought to himself as he idled the Longprobe Y-Wing at a slow hover amongst the debris.

After following the Lambda shuttle from its previous destination into Harrsk’s territory he found this nebula and debris field to hide.

Occasional control adjustments allowed him to stay in his hideout, and the movements of debris and gases allowed him to watch with various passive sensors which included an “Earwig” Electronic Intelligence interceptor. All of these were managed by his R5 Astromech, R5M4.

‘If I stay here I can observe all of Harrsk’s activities…but in case I’m spotted…’ Pasbu thought.

“How are you, Emfour?” Pasbu asked. A chirping whir in response.

“Good, keep plotting those courses. We may need to leave here in a hurry…” Pasbu replied.

A chirp in response. A question from R5M4.

“There’sa gotta be a reason that Lambda shuttle’s been flying all over da Galaxy…” Pasbu mused. The Gungan felt the mister in his space suit spray its moisture to keep his skin intact.

The nebula’s cloud passed over the Earwig’s antennae array, obscuring part of a very interesting transmission he had just intercepted.

“Just who is this mysterious envoy…” Pasbu thought aloud just as R5 warbled a warning.

Pasbu’s eyes shot to the instrument panel. One of his monitors glowed with dozens of vessels coming out of hyperspace. Red hued Victory Class Star Destroyers converged on Harrsk’s HQ, firing as they went.

“Perfect!” Pasbu thought as he powered up the engines.

R5 warbled another question.

“Getting us a closer look. In this confusion the Imps aren’t likely to spot us.” Pasbu turned the stick to the left to dodge a warped girder.

He followed behind one of the Victory Class Star Destroyers. ‘Got to time this right…’ Pasbu thought.

In lieu of proton torpedoes, he had half a dozen small, automated reconnaissance probes equipped with visual and electronic sensors.

He depressed the firing button atop his joystick, firing the reconnaissance probe droid along the vector of the Star Destroyer’s path.

Green turbolaser fire filled space all around him as Pasbu ducked the vehicle back into the relative safety nebula.

With the small probe as his ‘eyes and ears’ he could watch the battle on one of the monitors in the cockpit. One of the Victory Class Star Destroyers exploded under return fire from an Imperial Class Star Destroyer in orbit…

—

TBC

 

Eddies

Summary: While preparations for the journey to Sanctuary continue, General Bragg Sulamar begins to emerge from the shadows, having slowly created an ad hoc network of Imperial stay behind.

Notes: Again, while re-reading Darksaber for the first time in well over twenty years, I was inspired to create a far more competent General Sulamar and the creation of an ISB stay-behind program.

—-

Arboretum
Mon Calamari Institute of Science
Coral City, Mon Cala

A whirlwind of gear issue, orientation, and other administrative tasks filled out three more days of Ben and Troka’s visit to Mon Cala.

“This certainly is one interesting planet, eh?” Ben asked as he walked with Troka through the Arboretum and up to the catwalk ringing it.

Troka chirped and buzzed.

“I get it, you didn’t exactly grow up diving and swimming, but diving training over the next couple days should give you some skills.” Ben quickened his pace as they headed for a food cart.

Troka slyly chirped another question.

“Yes, I look forward to going to dinner with Ashliea. What’s your point?” Ben glanced up at the looming Talz.

Troka buzzed and chirped, and chuckled.

“Hey, it’s good to see Ashliea again. Early on she was my only friend after defecting from the Empire!” Ben answered.

Troka chortled back.

“Of course, I consider you one of my friends. But in the beginning…I remember you had an order to shoot me if I showed any signs of treachery.”

Troka let out a chirp and a laugh.

“So now you just shoot me with witty remarks instead of bowcaster quarrels…nice!” Ben rolled his eyes and chuckled.

Troka chuffed and pointed with one clawed hand.

Ben turned around just in time to see Ashliea walking over. He smiled at her, feeling warmth coming to his cheeks. “Hey, how are you?”

“Great. I’ve finished the Wookie Regiment task, so I came back over here to see how you two were doing.” Ashliea smiled.

Ben’s heart fluttered. “We were just about to have some lunch before this afternoon’s dive training. Care to join us?”

“It’ll be just like old times,” Ashliea replied.

“I don’t remember any diving on the medical frigate,” Ben joked.

“The times you were in a bacta tank don’t count?” Ashliea raised an eyebrow.

Troka looked at them with a canted head and a muttered chirp.

“I thought Talz do swim?” Ben asked.

Troka chirped back as he looked over at the two humans.

“I get it, short distances and less than 5 meter depths. But these diving suits are like spacesuits, relatively user-friendly. I mean you’ve done spacewalks…” Ashliea remarked.

Troka chortled back.

“Okay, I can totally understand. But free swimming is part of diving,” Ben replied.

Ashliea made her order at the food cart and the three of them stood off to one side.

Troka chortled another reply.

“Coastal tribes on Alzoc III and Orto Plutonia do swim from ice floe to ice floe and similar.” Ben observed.

Troka buzzed back.

“Look, Professor Alik isn’t a sadist! He’s just making sure that non aquatic species like us know what we’re doing when it comes to diving.” Ben headed over to the food cart and retrieved their orders.

Ashliea led the other two toward a table on the catwalk overlooking the lower part of the Arboretum. “One of my favorite spots on the upper catwalk, it’s fun to people watch.”

“Considering a transfer to Intelligence?” Ben quipped.

Ashliea shook her head. “Not on your life, Cozine. I can’t imagine not being able to tell people you love your whereabouts for long stretches of time.”

Ben’s hand shook. “It wears on you.”

“Ben?” Ashliea leaned towards him, her hand on his quivering forearm. Troka placed a furry hand on Ben’s bicep.

Ben clenched his fist. The shaking stopped.

“Sorry guys…” Ben began.

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re here instead of Force knows where.” Ashliea clasped Ben’s forearm.

“Thank you. Both of you,” Ben replied.

Troka chirped and buzzed as both he and Ashliea moved their hands back.

“Oh, very funny pal…” Ben raised an eyebrow.

Ashliea gave him a look and Troka buzzed back a response.

“Yeah, in my early days in the Rebellion Troka was my minder. General Madine gave him permission to shoot me if I did anything treacherous…” Ben replied.

Ashliea’s eyes went wide.

“Hey, Imperial defectors do face scrutiny. And I was an Imperial Army officer,” Ben replied.

“And now you two are the best of friends,” Ashley observed.

“Well, he’s had more fun shooting barbs at me over the years versus shooting one bowcaster quarrel at me…” Ben shrugged again.

“Sometimes your humor escapes me. It’s either Dad jokes or gallows humor.” Ashliea shook her head as they set their food down at the table she’d picked out.

Troka chirped and buzzed.

“Why not have Ben give you some swimming lessons? He’s a decent swimmer.” Ashliea began.

Troka blatted a question.

“Oh, when we were all on Coruscant before I got assigned out here. Ben gave me some lessons.” Ashliea clarified.

Troka chirped at Ben.

“You never asked, pal! I’d happily have taught you as well.” Ben smirked.

Troka chirped and buzzed.

“Of course, I’d be happy to help,” Ben replied.

——

Corellian Sector
Nar Shaddaa

The grey eyes of General Bragg Sulamar narrowed as they scrutinized the screen of the worn-out computer terminal's display.

"We’re all mad here," Sulamar muttered to himself as he continued to decipher the message.

'If those imbeciles in the Deep Core had the sense to reach out to me, they'd have a formidable intelligence operation at their disposal.' Sulamar reflected, recalling his tenure with the Imperial Security Bureau.

His gaze swept over the list. 'Who in their right mind would dub themselves an Omnipotent Battle Leader?'

With a scowl, he took a sip from the steaming cup of caf in his right hand. His eyes were drawn to a particularly potent bottle of Bitterfruit liquor on the kitchen counter. With measured steps, Sulamar traversed the room, the chipped mug of caf in his hand. He fetched the bottle and poured a generous amount into his cup. After stirring it with a spoon, he returned to his dining room table and the portable computer resting on the faux wood surface.

'The Empire I faithfully served has degenerated into this group of quarreling narcissists,' Sulamar mused as he perused the message.

Post Endor, Sulamar witnessed the rise of the New Republic. Consequently, he suggested the establishment of a covert stay-behind operation comprising select agents of the Imperial Security Bureau and other key personnel scattered across crucial worlds.

However, incessant squabbles, mutual disdain, and a diverse array of warlords like Zsinj thwarted his plans.

Nonetheless, the late, sharp-witted Grand Moff Bertroff Hissa, with his equally sharp teeth, proved to be a receptive listener. A discreet promotion to general and an order to proceed followed.

As he sipped his fortified caf, a warmth spread in his stomach. His eyes once again scanned the screen as he scrolled through the compiled words from innumerable sources across the galaxy.

'Just think of the chaos I could wreak if I had the time and resources to properly set this up!' Sulamar pondered.

Another glance at the screen revealed another mention of Admiral Daala and her mission to unify the bickering warlords in the Deep Core. He keyed in a command on the worn keyboard to keep tracking any references to Daala.

'I'm quite intrigued to see how this unfolds…' Sulamar mused, sipping his cup of caf. A smile flickered across his face. 'Her aide-de-camp is actually a product of my re-education program…'

"Curious and curiouser still," Sulamar murmured to himself.

——

Natatorium
Mon Calamari Institute of Science

With swift and synchronized movements, Ben Cozine propelled himself through the water, his feet fluttering and his arms pulling with precision. Every third stroke, he turned his head to take a breath. And finally, he reached the end of the pool.

Emerging from the water, Ben stood on the pool deck, observing Ashliea approaching the finish line. She too emerged from the water, joining him on the deck.

"Troka, keep your head down, buddy!" Ben called out to his struggling friend.

Troka gasped for air and chirped a response, determined to complete the arduous 50-meter swim.

"Why aren't you drying off yet?" Ashliea asked, shivering and hugging her arms.

"You might want to wait," Ben replied.

Curious, Ashliea questioned, "Cryptic advice aside, why?"

"Well, let's not forget that Troka is covered in fur..." Ben grinned mischievously.

Understanding dawned on Ashliea's face. "His fur is naturally coated in an oily substance to keep him warm when submerged. I get it. But still, what does that have to do with you not drying off yet?"

Finally, Troka reached the other side and walked over to Ben and Ashliea.

"Here we go..." Ben whispered to Ashliea, anticipating what was about to happen.

Troka shook himself off, sending water droplets flying in all directions.

"Ack!" Ashliea yelped, shielding her face with her hands.

Ben chuckled, covering his own face. "That's why I usually wait to dry off."

Rolling her eyes, Ashliea headed for the women’s locker room. "See you at dinner tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the Galaxy," Ben grinned back.

Troka chortled and shook himself out some more, drenching Ben with even more water.

—

TBC

 

Onrushing Tide

Summary: The attack on Supreme Warlord Harrsk’s HQ is witnessed by a Longprobe Y-Wing, and from the shadows, Kadann emerges.

Notes: Thank you to @Nehru_Amidala for answering my assorted Legends/EU questions in this fanfic thus far.

—-

Bridge, Imperial Star Destroyer Shockwave
Supreme Warlord Harrsk HQ

Commander Isaregi Kratas strolled amidst the bustling bridge crew of the formidable Shockwave. In a rare moment of respite, he closed his eyes, allowing himself to be transported back to his own days of service aboard Star Destroyers.

"Sir?" A voice interrupted his reverie, and Kratas turned to face the Imperial Navy Lieutenant standing beside him, his eyes fluttering open.

"I was just reminiscing about my time on the smaller Victory Class Star Destroyers. They may not have been as grand as the others, but they were still remarkable ships, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed, sir," the Lieutenant nodded respectfully, his cybernetic right hand catching Kratas' attention. A quick glance at the insignia on the Lieutenant's uniform hinted at a story untold.

"You were a TIE pilot, weren't you?" Kratas inquired, curiosity piqued.

"Yes, sir," the Lieutenant replied, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"What model did you fly?" Kratas continued their conversation as they strolled down the bustling bridge.

"TIE Interceptors," the Lieutenant began, a glimmer of pride shining in his eyes.

Suddenly, a deafening klaxon blared, and the bridge lights flickered into an alarming shade of red. The atmosphere on the bridge shifted instantly, tension filling the air.

"Incoming vessels! Victory Class Star Destroyers!" a report echoed through the chaos, mere moments before the Shockwave shuddered violently under the relentless assault of an initial salvo.

"Shields up!" The Lieutenant's voice boomed, his urgency propelling him towards the tactical station, the crew scrambling to respond.

‘The captain is planetside for a meeting with Supreme Warlord Harrsk. Where’s the Executive Officer?’ Kratas thought as he raced down the bridge’s command deck.

His answer lay before him. The Executive Officer lay on his side, a pool of blood near his abdomen, a medical team racing his way. The burned out remnants of an exploded terminal and a decapitated technician told the story.

“Concentrate fire on lead vessels!” Kratas snapped the command.

To their credit, the crew instantly responded and the familiar green streaks of the turbolaser battery fire filled space before him.

Grimly he watched as one of the red-hued Victory Class ships exploded in a flash. Blasting turbolaser fire.

“Two more enemy ships destroyed!” A report from the Lieutenant.

‘They just keep advancing!’ Kratas thought as he saw a fourth Star Destroyer go up in flames. The Shockwave violently shook again.

“We’ve got to get underway!” Kratas shouted.

The Shockwave’s engines thrummed to life as the piloting team maneuvered the ship to break orbit.

“Sir, we have a dozen Victory Class Star Destroyers bearing down on us!” The Lieutenant shouted.

“Concentrate your fire on the lead vessels. See if we can’t break apart their formation…” Kratas began just as a console nearby him exploded, flinging him forward onto the command deck.

The world spun on its axis as he tried to rise to his feet only to collapse on his side, the world going black…

—-

Nebula
Supreme Warlord Harrsk HQ

Hidden in the nebula with the occasional ‘sneak and peek’, Lieutenant Jarro Pasbu’s eyes narrowed in concentration. His reconnaissance probe captured the Victory Class Star Destroyers hammering at the Shockwave, Supreme Warlord Harrsk’s flagship, battling with the other four Imperial Star Destroyers of Harrsk’s fleet.

Planetary turbolaser, proton torpedo, and concussion missile batteries near Harrsk’s HQ were also firing on the Victory-Class ships.

But most of the fire focused on the Shockwave. Another explosion in the aft part of the destroyer and the ship hung crippled in space.

Fortunately, the ship was disabled in a stable orbit, and in the shadow of Harrsk’s HQ several weapon emplacements fired away at the Victory Class Star Destroyers, claiming three more vessels.

Like a storm suddenly ending, the raiders turned and jumped into hyperspace…

Pasbu tapped a command on his control panel, steering the probe to the hull of the Shockwave herself. Pasbu smiled.

‘The probe can now listen in on any transmissions made around this planet for the next eight hours before it self destructs.’ Pasbu thought.

A pair of space tugs and one of the other Imperial Star Destroyers focused their tractor beams on the Shockwave, towing her into position for later movement. Dozens of shuttlecraft and other vessels moved to and from the Shockwave.

With a deep breath, he made another decision. Wait those eight hours…

—

Command Center
Supreme Warlord Harrsk’s HQ

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” The Stormtrooper NCO began as he approached Lieutenant Korde Daivand as she held a dressing against her right shoulder.

“Caught a piece of a console in one of the turbolaser batteries when it took a hit.” Korde winced as she held the large, bloody gauze.

The sergeant guided Korde to sit down in a low sill of a window before he shouted, “Medic!”

A medic headed over to Korde with guidance from the sergeant. “Impaled object in the lieutenant’s right shoulder.”

The medic nodded and set his heavy backpack down. Removing a few pieces of gauze, he packed it around the shard, then wrapped a bandage around her shoulder to hold it all in place. Then he took another bandage, wrapping it around Korde’s right wrist, pinning the arm to her side. He did the same to her upper right arm.

“I’ve immobilized her arm, but get her to the MedBay,” the medic replied to the sergeant, indicating the direction.

“Thank you,” Korde said to the medic, wincing as she stood up.

“Come on, Lieutenant. Let’s get you treated…stat.” The NCO guided Korde by her good arm through the hive of activity.

“Can you check on Commander Kratas, Sergeant?” Korde grimaced.

The Stormtrooper NCO pushed a repair crewman aside with an armored forearm as he escorted Korde towards the MedBay.

“I’m not patched into their comm system, ma’am. But I'll find out.” The NCO continued their walk before making another call. “Nine-one-four, this is nine-four-one, get me a status on Commander Kratas.”

“Yes Sergeant!” came the reply through the man’s comm-link.

As they walked through Harrsk’s command center, Admiral Daala emerged ahead of Supreme Warlord Harrsk.

“Report,” Daala began.

“Checking on Commander Kratas’ status, waiting on the report.” Korde drew herself to her full height despite the stabbing pain.

“What about yourself, lieutenant?” Daala asked, stepping closer.

“I took charge of a guncrew during the attack, ma’am…” Korde replied, still being led by the Stormtrooper.

“Get to the MedBay, Lieutenant.” Daala’s eyes flickered to the heavily bandaged shoulder, then to the Sergeant.

“Aye aye, Ma’am!” the Stormtrooper responded to the unspoken order, shouldering his way past Harrsk’s troops.

Korde’s eyes went wide as the Stormtrooper led her into the MedBay. A Petty Officer in the uniform of a naval rating sat in a chair, hands in his lap, eyes wide and muttering to himself.

An orderly headed over with a datapad. He reached over and pulled Korde’s rank cylinder off her uniform and scanned it with the optical sensor on the datapad. Replacing it, the orderly said, “Priority.”

“This is Admiral Daala’s aide-de-camp,” the Stormtrooper began.

“And why should that matter to me?” The orderly gave the Stormtrooper a sour look.

The Stormtrooper grabbed the man’s left shoulder, his palm against the man’s clavicle, and applied pressure. “Listen closely. This officer took charge of one of your gun turrets during the attack. She is an important member of Admiral Daala’s staff. You will attend to her. Now…”

“Ack…” the orderly groaned.

“Do we understand one another?” the Stormtrooper gruffly asked.

“O-of course…” the man replied, rubbing his shoulder

“Good.” The Stormtrooper released his grip, following the orderly as he guided the Lieutenant towards a surgical ward.

—

Meditation Chamber
Dark Prophet
Expansion Region

Kadann sat upon his throne in the meditation chamber aboard the Dark Prophet, a black-painted star yacht. Some, like the late and unmourned Trioculus and his equally deceased henchman Grand Moff Bertroff Hissa, would remark how the mighty have fallen.

Kadann bitterly laughed. Since Trioculus and Isard’s respective falls, a succession of warlords, Grand Admiral Thrawn, and even the rising of Paplatine himself, the Empire had become a joke to him.

He took a pen and scribbled words down onto a fancy piece of flimsi at the arm of his throne, speaking as his hand moved, “A true darksider works well in the shadows.”

Station Scardia might be floating scrap, plundered for parts, and in the territory of “High Admiral” Treuten Teradoc, but the Prophets of the Dark Side lived on.

A Carrack Class light cruiser passed within three kilometers of the Dark Prophet but between the dark paint scheme and sensor masking technology the Carrack sensed nothing, continuing its patrol.

Kadann reached to the other arm of his throne for a datapad, reading through a daily summary compiled from reports from countless underlings.

He paused at the entry on Mon Cala. “This is interesting.”

Archaeological site unearthed on Sanctuary almost two years earlier. Remains of a previously unknown civilization. Like nothing ever seen.

Kadann closed his eyes, speaking into the empty room. “Meditate on this, I will…but I sense a dark presence here…”

—

TBC

 

@Theodore Hawkwood Finally found some time to catch up with this, and thoroughly enjoyed doing so! In those first few chapters, I really dug the vibe you established between your three main characters; there's a real sense of relaxed, comfortable camaraderie, reminiscent of the banter-based cohesion between Luke, Han and Leia (or Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan, or even Kirk, Spock and McCoy) with little flashes of shared backstory, like the whole R70 / R77-D thing. I liked getting to know 'em all, but have to admit that Troka's my favourite! The work you've put into him, and general Talz culture, is really paying off. He helps ground so many moments, but he's also excellent as comic relief, like when he shakes himself dry after diving training. Over the coming holidays, I may borrow the phrase "taking a snow check" if I have to postpone any plans!

That isn't to downplay the relationship between Ben and Ashliea, though. I'm getting quite invested in it now! Again, you nailed the dialogue, initially managing to conversationally convey bits of their background(s) without it reading like stilted exposition, but then to get that full flashback in 'Turbid Waters of the Past' was a real treat, and very effective in drawing everything together at the right moment. Getting to see both sides of the approach to their "date" was a lot of fun; I was sitting here with a big smile on my face!

When it came to 'Gathering Storm', I started to recognise some of the names, and noted your mention of the novel Darksaber. I must admit, my knowledge of Legends / EU material is incredibly limited, so I couldn't discern the cameos from the original characters, but I was nevertheless impressed by the spirit of petty squabbling and arrogance you engendered with those ex-Imperial warlords. I particularly liked Daala's musings on the "increasingly absurd titles", leading all the way up to Omnipotent Battle Leader! That's a name tag any self-respecting dictator should aspire to (and it made me laugh when Sulamar later took a similar stab at the title, in 'Eddies')!

On a personal note, it's nice to see some connections to Naboo (my favourite planet from the GFFA, in case it wasn't obvious) and a stealthy Gungan pilot flying recon in a Y-Wing! I take it all back; maybe Pasbu will replace Troka as my favourite! Also, I loved Ashliea's line about it being "sweet to see kids just being kids and not caring whether their playmates are Mon Calamari, Quarren or human." Particularly in the aftermath of the Galactic Empire, that was a very touching observation!

There's a lot to like here! Really enjoying it thusfar, and will look forward to keeping current with any future updates (especially after such a foreboding cliffhanger)!

 

@Happy Sando, I'm glad you're enjoying this. And your comment came at the right time, while I was dealing with a bit of writer's block so I must thank you for that.

Ben, Troka, and Ashliea are always a joy to write. Many times if I've gotten stuck I just have to put two or all three of them in the same space together and they generally pull through for me.

I took my initial inspiration for Troka and Ben's dynamic from Han and Chewie's dynamic, but I also worked to add differences as well given Troka is a different species as well as a different character. I borrowed aspects from Calvin and Hobbes for their dynamic. In fact that scene where Troka shook himself dry was inspired both by a scene in Calvin and Hobbes where a drenched Hobbes does exactly that to Calvin and by the numerous times my dog's done that to me.

Feel free, and let me know how well this is received by anyone who's heard of it.

Ben and Ashliea are fun to write when I feature them together. Troka's observations, and those of their friends were fun to write indeed. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone when I wanted to look at Ashliea and Ben's interactions from Troka's perspective.

I remembered seeing that as an exposition dump in Darksaber hence why I had most of those observations being thoughts and similar for characters. I've gotten a lot of 'show not tell' reviews over the years.

Glad you like Lieutenant Pasbu and Ben being from Naboo as well. I've been thinking more on his background as I've dived more into Legends material over the last few weeks.

 

Waves

Summary: Ben and Ashliea enjoy a dinner and a pleasant conversation despite memories of Ord Mantell.

Notes: In 2008 I wrote a rather cringy fanfic called The Acklay Sleeps Tonight based on the Token’s song The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Years later Lebo M’s take on The Lion Sleeps Tonight inspired an updated version of The Acklay Sleeps Tonight. Thanks to @Happy Sando for your review earlier to this fanfic.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight (Full Version)

—-

Tidepool Promenade
Coral City, Mon Cala
12 ABY

“Perfect timing!” Ashliea began as she, Ben and Troka stepped onto the Tidepool Promenade.

“For what?” Ben asked.

“The twin sunsets. It’s the best spot in Coral City to watch them,” Ashliea explained. The three of them found a spot along the crowded railing overlooking the endless expanse of ocean before them.

The twin suns of the ocean world of Mon Cala dipped below the horizon, one, and then the other, bathing the sky in a profusion of reds and oranges. The ocean reflected the reddish glow.

Troka chirped a question.

“I like coming here before I fly anywhere for a good dinner.” Ashliea explained.

Ben looked out over the water. “It’s a great view.”

The three of them stood side by side, leaning against the railing. Troka closed his two larger eyes, leaving his smaller ones open.

Troka chirped a quick phrase.

“I forgot, you’re meeting your mate here.” Ben replied.

Troka nodded and buzzed a response.

“Don’t let us hold up your date night,” Ashliea added.

Troka chirped a question.

“It’s when human couples spend time together, usually in the evenings as the name suggests. The children, if any, are with babysitters or nanny droids,” Ben explained.

Troka chirped another response.

“Have fun, see you tomorrow at 0600 at the Institute,” Ben replied.

“See you tomorrow, Troka,” Ashliea added.

Troka chirped a farewell and walked towards the stairs to the lower levels of the Promenade.

Ben chuckled and Ashliea gave him a quizzical look. “Oh, that goes back to earlier this week when I was explaining human dating rituals compared to Talz rituals.”

“And what did you tell him?” Ashliea asked.

“That cooking a steak, sides, and trimmings with the requisite bottle of wine is basically like presenting a prospective mate a fresh kill with a few more steps added.” Ben shrugged.

Ashliea laughed. “Where do you come up with these things?”

“Try explaining various human social mores to a Talz and you’ll see how,” Ben replied with a chuckle of his own.

Suddenly a large shape broke the surface. The massive 20 meter whaladon breached the surface and made a splash.

“Wow!” Ben exclaimed.

“I know, right? Whaladon do migrate past this area, but this one is an early arrival.” Ashliea pointed at the ripples.

“Must be a young male,” Ben quipped.

“How did you guess that?” Ashliea asked.

“The holographic display about Whaladons at the institute was really neat.” Ben shrugged.

“It’s really well done,” Ashliea agreed.

The fiery hues of the setting suns bounced off the waves crashing against the lower levels of the promenade. Ben closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

Ashliea's hand gently brushed against Ben's right arm.

"Hey, are you okay?" Ashliea inquired.

Ben nodded, but his right hand trembled once more. Ashliea gave him a knowing glance.

"Blaster shootout with the Noghri three years ago," Ben responded, “Troka and I were lucky to get out alive…”

"Ord Mantell?" Ashliea asked.

Ben nodded, tapping his right shoulder. "You saved my life there."

"Honestly, my heart nearly stopped when I heard that report..." Ashliea's voice faded, a quiver in her tone.

Ben's hand trembled again. "The thing I remember most was seeing you in the hangar bay with the medical team...you were reassuring me that everything was going to be okay."

—-

Medical Frigate Nightengale
Vicinity of Ord Mantell
9 ABY

Dr. Ashliea Delstee took a sip from her hot mug of caf before placing down next to a plate with a half-consumed pastry.

Sergeant Gavin Jax entered the room, his steel-grey eyes quickly scanning the area before he took a seat across from Ashliea.

“Are you doing alright?” Jax inquired, arching an eyebrow.

Ashliea let out a sigh. “Triage is the hardest part.”

Jax nodded solemnly. “It never gets easier.”

Ashliea sighed again, taking another sip of her caf. She placed the mug down and stifled a yawn with her hand.

“When was the last time you had some rest, ma’am?” Jax questioned.

Ashliea was about to respond when suddenly, the room was filled with a flashing red light and the sound of a klaxon.

“Medical alert. Medical alert.” The main computer’s voice reverberated over the PA system.

Ashliea quickly stood up, pushing her chair in. Jax also rose, moving to the nearest wall-mounted monitor and tapping the screen. “We have an Intel asset, codename Shade Six, U-Wing with wounded personnel on board.”

'Shade Six? That’s Ben!' Ashliea’s heart pounded in her chest.

Jax and Ashliea exchanged a glance before sprinting out of the break room and down the corridor, a medical team rushing alongside them.

From the observation deck, Ashliea watched the U-Wing’s somewhat shaky landing on the deck’s metallic surface.

Green lights flashed in the airlock, granting the medical team access. Heart pounding Ashliea ran towards the U-Wing as the craft’s own side doors opened.

Troka jumped from the shuttle’s cockpit cradling an injured left arm. The Talz chirped and buzzed and gestured with his good arm towards the craft, his bowcaster slung across his back. Alongside him came a slim, bald man, a bandage around his head.

The U-Wing's side doors creaked open, revealing the dimly lit interior. Ashliea's eyes widened as they fell on Captain Ben Cozine, his face etched with pain. The medical team moved swiftly, forming a human chain to carefully transport him from the U-Wing to a hovering stretcher.

Ashliea's gaze met Ben's, and though he grimaced in pain, he nodded in return. She pressed her palm gently against his shoulder. Two brown eyes, somewhat unfocused, searched hers.

As the stretcher began its careful descent to the metallic floor, Ashliea half jogged and half walked alongside, her hand lingering on Ben's arm.

The medical team, a well-coordinated symphony of efficiency, wheeled the stretcher through the corridor toward the medical bay. Ashliea kept pace, her eyes never leaving Ben's face. With each step, she offered a reassuring nod, a silent promise that they were on this journey together.

In the hushed ambiance of the corridor marked only by the muted hum of medical equipment and the rhythmic footsteps of the team. Ashliea leaned in, whispering words only Ben could hear. No grand promises, just a whispered assurance, a lifeline in the storm.

"Remember Chandrila?" she murmured, her voice a soft echo against the sterile walls. A subtle nod from Ben acknowledged the shared history, the debt repaid in unspoken agreements forged in the crucible of rebellion. A painful wince followed.

The medical bay's doors slid open, and the team maneuvered the stretcher inside. Ashliea remained by Ben's side, meeting his gaze one last time.

“Ben, everything is going to be alright…” Ashliea began as Ben dropped into unconsciousness.

—

Tidepool Promenade
Coral City, Mon Cala
12 ABY

Ashliea trembled slightly as memories of the U-Wing’s shaky landing and the urgency in the medical bay lingered. Ben put a hand on her shoulder as they stood on the railing of the Tidepool Promenade, the ocean’s soothing rhythm and setting suns’ warm hues offering some respite.

"Wow, that whaladon was amazing," Ben remarked, his eyes reflecting the residual awe from the creature's breach.

Ashliea smiled, the memory of the medical alert momentarily pushed aside. "Mon Calamari has a way of surprising us, doesn't it?"

Ben nodded, and together, they continued their stroll along the Promenade. The crowded railing gave way to a quieter stretch, where the distant sounds of the city melded with the lapping of waves against the structure.

"Chandrila seems like a lifetime ago," Ben mused, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

A gentle breeze carried Ashliea's reply. "We've faced more than our fair share of challenges, haven't we?"

"Ord Mantell, the Noghri, the Rebellion... and now," Ben gestured vaguely toward the city, "the ongoing struggle for peace in the New Republic."

They found a secluded bench, the perfect spot to watch the suns dip below the horizon. “On a lighter note, we do have Troka’s observations on human dating rituals.”

"It's a wonder Troka hasn't written a guidebook on inter-species dating," Ashliea teased.

"He's got a keen sense of observation," Ben replied with a grin. "Reminds me a bit of Jax."

Ashliea looked out over the ocean before she turned to Ben, expression softening. "Ben, about back there..."

He met her gaze. “You saved my life at Ord Mantell…and in other ways.”

The suns sank below the horizon, casting a tranquil glow over the promenade.

"Shall we go for that dinner?" Ben offered, standing up and extending his hand.

Ashliea accepted the gesture, rising to her feet. "Dinner sounds perfect. But this time, no fresh kills, okay?"

“Troka might be disappointed that I didn’t dive into the ocean, spear a fish and present it to you,” Ben laughed as they headed for the staircase leading into the Promenade’s lower levels.

“Hey, farm girl here, I know what goes into our food. So let’s skip all the fresh kill steps.” Ashliea smiled back as they went down the spiral staircase into the third level of the Tidepool Promenade.

The smells of foods from many different cuisines wafted through the air. “Talk about paralysis by analysis,” Ben quipped.

As they walked through the third level of the Promenade Ashliea noticed an advertisement on a holoprojector.

“Looks like Meco B. is performing tonight on the second level.” Ashliea observed.

“Really? He’s one of Naboo’s up and coming vocal talents. But the concert's sold out, though,” Ben replied, pointing at the red borders on the holoimage

“Oh, they’ll play it on the video screens or holoprojectors in different venues though,” Ashliea replied as they picked through the crowd.

“Guess we better find a good spot for dinner.” Ben shrugged as he glanced around.

“The Host is always a good choice.” Ashliea glanced over her shoulder to the right at the glimmering sign.

“I’ll defer to your expertise here, then.” Ben in the direction Ashliea indicated.

They walked into the establishment, a circular shaped room with cylindrical fish tank in the center of it. A serving droid walked them to a table that was between the large tank and the equally large window looking out over the sea as the second sun sank below the horizon.

Ben glanced into the tank. “It goes down all three levels?”

Ashilea nodded as she took her seat. “Perfect spot. They put us near one of the holoprojectors.”

Just then the opening notes of The Acklay Sleeps Tonight echoed into the room as the holoprojectors activated.

“Meco B does a great job with the Theed Five classic hit.” Ben commented.

“It is a great upgrade,” Ashliea replied.

“Remember the original had a video spoof of Senator Jar Jar Binks pursued by an irate acklay?” Ben replied.

“Kinda morbid, don’t you think?” Ashliea quirked an eyebrow.

“I see your point, but given Binks has his share of detractors among both humans and Gungans there are enough people that find it funny.” Ben shrugged in reply.

“I’m sure someone will make a Holonet video juxtaposing the acklay chasing Senator Binks and this version of the song sometime,” Ashliea quipped, lightly playing with her ponytail.

“I’ll be sure to show you if they do.” Ben smiled, heat rushing to his face.

“Seriously, your sense of humor is Dad jokes, gallows humor with a side order of Mandalorian obscenities.”

“You’ve put up with me this long,” Ben quipped.

“Either I’m getting used to it or I’m getting warped.” Ashliea shrugged and both of them laughed.

—

TBC

 

This story has been on my reading list pretty much since you started posting it. It was the title that drew me in, even more so once I realised how much would take place on Mon Calamari, hence giving a double meaning to the word "tide", and now that it's a lazy Saturday at home, I'm all caught up and I'm ready for a review!

I'm very much enjoying how you're building up the relationship between Ben and Ashliea, and I'm chortling to myself every time you remind us that everyone has picked up on the romance undertones but them. You're using flashbacks to great effect to give us an idea of their relationship before this story, and I expect that by the time you're done here we'll have their full history. Ben's hand tremor is another great tool you've found to introduce elements from the past, and as I notice it's apparently happening less and less frequently as time goes by, so this mission appears to have put him on the path to healing.

My favourite character however is Troka and his wicked sense of humour. I saw that you mentioned looking at my Talz post in the fanon thread, and I'm really happy that you chose to go with a Talz character. You're doing a great job at showing his alienness and his specificities (I would like to borrow "snow check" vs "rain check" in the future if that's okay with you) and his friendship with Ben comes through in spades every time they have a conversation. I love the idea that Troka was Ben's "minder" when he joined the Rebellion, and I feel that there's a lot of backstory there to explore and show how their relationship evolved into such deep friendship that "they come as a package", as Madine says in the opening chapter.

I'm also very curious to see how the Corran situation will play out. He's such a good investigator in his own right, I'm sure he'll put two and two together eventually and that's bound to have consequences, although I have no idea what these could be.

You did an absolutely great job at depicting the divisions and the bickering between the various Imperial factions, and it was such a neat touch to have a Gungan pilot sleuthing around that nebula to observe the actual fighting between two of them. And it seems that the Imperials have a lot of problems on their hands: their own infighting, the fact that the Republic is slowly squeezing them into a corner, and also the fact that Kadann is out there doing his own thing. Now I can see a possible connection between Kadann and the archaeological dig that our heroes will be heading to, but I'm eager to see how the various warlords will fit into the picture.

One detail that caught my attention is the fact that General Sulamar notes that Daala's aide is "a product of his reeducation programme", and again I expect that this will be important at some point. The very word "reeducation" is all sorts of ominous, and I suspect that said aide will turned out to be someone linked to one of our heroes who was brainwashed and forced into Imperial service.

Lastly I laughed out loud at the meta reference to Jar Jar Binks having "detractors" in this last entry

Thanks for sharing, and I'll be sitting just over there waiting for more!

 

@Chyntuck thank you for the kind 575 words worth of review you gave me. I greatly appreciate it. May you appreciate future chapters as I go along.

Glad you appreciate it. Those two surprise me every time I stick them in a situation between dialogue, things they'll discuss and the like. From a sentence I wrote in my notebook six months ago when this fanfic was an idea kicking around my brain for years before I finally wrote it: "A burned-out intelligence operative and a widowed physician...notes of Picard and Crusher."

Ashliea's friendship and their connection is a key part of this.

Some of your fanon thread matters kickstarted me thinking of Ben's partner in crime as I wrote this particular story. I didn't want to use a Wookie, given it would make Ben sound too close to Han Solo on one note, and on a second note the 'Snow Wookies' on Orto Plutonia interested me here.

Feel free to use the "snow check" in your writing, just please be sure to credit me when you do so.

Troka and Ben are a lot of fun to write together too, especially given Troka's observations on human dating practices/relationships.

There is another flashback in the works, exactly when I'm not sure, but when I can fit it in, I'll make sure I'll tag you when that flashback comes up.

Another case of you'll see/I'll think it over.

Oh you'll see how both are going to be a threat in the future as well.

Glad you caught that detail. You'll see soon, but there are clues in other parts of the story as to whom Daala's aide, Lieutenant Daivand is related to.

I wrote a fanfic 'The Acklay Sleeps Tonight' in 2008 in which Jar Jar Binks is chased by an Acklay on fanfiction.net. I decided to make it a song from Naboo, originally by a troupe of singers called The Theed Five (three humans, two Gungans) around the time of the Old Republic. The 'updated' version Ben and Ashliea are listening to is by a popular Gungan vocalist Meco B. I took the "Awemoweh" chorus from The Lion Sleeps tonight and made it a popular Gungan musical chant.

You're welcome.

 

I love the inclusion of Mirax and Corran Their jobs sound interesting and it's so lovely that they're expecting Their teasing and affection is absolutely in character.

I enjoy Troka and Ben's ongoing banter LOL Ashliea is a wonderful original character and you do a great job with the flashbacks ...

The romantic development with Ben feels very natural

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha, thank you for your feedback. I figured I'd do a post 'I Jedi' version of Corran and Mirax and dealing with an expectant Mirax. I figured during pregnancy she'd have a steadier job versus independent trading/smuggling.

Glad you like Troka and Ben's banter as well as Ashliea as a character, it feels good to know that my work is well received. Stand by for some more entertaining things showing up.

 

Underway

Summary: The next shift for the expedition leaves Mon Cala enroute for Sanctuary. Lieutenant Pasbu’s reconnaissance mission is taking a turn…

Notes: The Holidays and some writer’s block gave me a bit of a snag writing this chapter, thanks for your patience. Thanks @Chyntuck and @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha for your recent reviews. And @Happy Sando I have my Gungan OC in this story having a scene.

—

Landing Pad
Mon Calamari Institute of Science
Coral City, Mon Cala
0541

“Still arriving awkwardly early for things?” Ben asked as he strode onto the landing pad, standing at the awning for passengers.

Ashliea shrugged. “That’s my secret for rarely being late for anything. Served me well over the past 22 years.”

Ben chuckled as he handed Ashliea one of two paper cups of caf from a small holder in his right hand.

“Thanks,” Ashliea replied with a smile as she sat on the sheet metal bench beneath the awning.

“I got your message about a cup of caf right when I stepped outta my room.” Ben joined her on the bench after setting his luggage beside hers.

The Pulsar Skate occupied the landing pad as Mirax worked through her preflight checks. She walked over to them, a faint smile on her face.

“Thank you for the recommendation for that Ithorian herbal tea, Doctor,” Mirax began.

“Helped me when I had my oldest son.” Ashliea smiled with a soft sigh and a slight stoop to her shoulders.

‘For half a credit I’d space any captured ISB operative. Oh Hells, I’d do it for free!’ Ben thought to himself as memories of Ashliea’s losses at the hands of the Imperial Security Bureau shot through his brain.

“Corran got me some from that specialty shop on the Tidepool Promenade,” Mirax replied.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Ashliea replied.

“Still a little queasy, but I actually managed to keep some food down this time.”

“I’m glad,” Ashliea replied.

“Thanks again,” Mirax replied before she walked back to her ship.

“Neat mix of homeopathy and medicine,” Ben commented when Mirax was out of earshot.

“My mother taught me and my sisters about medicinal plants.” Ashliea turned towards him.

“She sounds like a really interesting person.” Ben smiled.

“She was a Professor of Botany at Salline State University. Our greenhouse always had plants from all over the galaxy.” Ashliea’s eyes moved to the right and up.

Ben followed her line of sight as a pair of V-Wing Airspeeders flew over their heads. “Wonder if those were from Grandma Squadron.”

Ashliea squinted. “Couldn’t tell, they were flying too high for me to see their markings.”

“I wouldn’t want to fly those contraptions. Sure they’re fast and maneuverable, but one hit and you’re vaped” Ben mused.

“It’s like a TIE Fighter but without the spaceflight capability,” Ashliea agreed.

“I didn’t know you were such an expert on fighter tactics,” Ben observed.

“I’m not. I worked with No. 121 Squadron for one of my first assignments here on Mon Cala.” Ashliea brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear

“Also known as Grandma Squadron, due to Maree Vanda being its commander after being the V-Wing program’s chief test pilot.” Ben nodded.

“It was actually her Executive Officer who coined the name ‘Grandma Squadron’ after Colonel Vanda became a grandmother,” Ashliea replied.

“Kinda funny that a male executive officer came up with that tag.” Ben smirked.

“I wish you could’ve seen how the entire squadron decorated the ready room with streamers, balloons, and ordered a huge cake.” Ashliea chuckled.

Ben’s smirk widened into a smile. “So what happened next?”

“Colonel Vanda walked into work only to walk into a fanfare of congratulations complete with the huge banner that said ‘Congratulations Grandma’. Then the XO came up to her with a plaque proposing a name for the squadron,” Ashliea replied with a smile of her own.

“I can only imagine how that must’ve gone down.” Ben chuckled and Ashliea laughed with him.

“Put it this way, Troka would have barbs for days.”

“Oh great, I don’t need my fine furry friend with more barbs up the spout,” Ben mock groaned.

“Speaking of Troka, I hope he’s on his way.” Ashliea glanced at her wrist chronometer, eyes narrowing in the light of two rising suns.

“I’m sure he is. Troka does tend to show up when he shows up…” Ben began.

“You don’t seem too worried,” Ashliea raised an eyebrow.

“Knowing Troka he’ll figure out a way to get to Sanctuary if he somehow misses the Pulsar Skate,” Ben quipped.

The door to the Arboretum opened and a blue green Quarren walked over to them, a satchel slung across his chest and a large duffelbag slung over his shoulders. He walked over to the awning.

“Hey Squidward,” Ashliea said.

“Hi Ashliea, Ben,” Squidward replied as he set his bags down. “Not to be rude, but can you guys watch my stuff? I’m gonna do a quick preflight with Mirax.”

“Oh, you’re helping her co-pilot again?” Ashliea asked.

“Yep,” Squidward replied before he sauntered over to the Pulsar Skate to confer with Mirax.

“Squidward was a spacer?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, he was an engineering technician on a light freighter for several years before he went to college. He still likes crewing spaceships whenever he gets the chance.”

Ben nodded. “Now he messes with computers.”

Ashliea stood up and looked over towards the Arboretum. “There’s Troka.”

Ben glanced at his chronometer. “More or less on the dot. Seventy eight seconds early.”

“I seriously need to scan you for cybernetic implants.” Ashliea smirked as she sat back down.

“You’ll find nothing of the sort,” Ben smirked.

“You’re just wired for super precision?” Ashliea gave a sideways look.

“Hey, you know I was an EOD operator and combat engineer when I was with the Imperial Army.” Ben shrugged.

Troka ambled over to them.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Ben grinned.

“Hey Troka.” Ashliea waved.

Troka chirped a greeting and then buzzed a question.

“Yeah, I got your stuff too. Told you packing before your date night was the right play,” Ben replied.

Troka chirped and then buzzed as he glanced towards the Arboretum door.

“How was your date night?” Ashliea asked.

Troka chirped and gestured with his arms, nodding his head.

“Sounds like you had a good night,” Ben replied.

Troka buzzed and gestured with his clawed hands.

“Too much information, pal!” Ben held up a hand.

Troka chirped inquisitively.

“Usually humans don’t go into too many details about date night,” Ashliea replied.

Troka chirped and chuffed a response.

“I get it, it’s a Talz thing. The human thing is a little different.” Ben shrugged.

Troka buzzed a response.

“I agree, we are weird.” Ashliea interjected before glancing over towards the Pulsar Skate. Squidward stepped down the ramp, waving them over.

Ben reached down, picking up his bags as he, Ashliea and Troka headed over towards the Pulsar Skate to board.

“Don’t forget Squidward’s bags,” Ashliea said. Ben and Troka each took one of Squidward’s bag to the ship.

——

Nebula
Supreme Warlord Harrsk HQ

Lieutenant Pasbu glanced at the readout on the central screen of his instrument panel. The probe had self destructed, and now Harrsk’s fleet was amassing, clearly intending to strike at Terradoc.

‘Time to go.’ Pasbu thought to himself as a Carrack class light cruiser, accompanied by a Lancer class frigate skirted the nebula in a tandem formation.

A red light flashed on his instrument panel and two words flashed on his HUD: Sensor Lock.

‘Oh fierfek!’ Pasbu cursed in his mind.

The Carrack cruiser released its four reconnaissance TIE fighters.

“Sithspawn!” Pasbu blurted and turned the Y-Wing around.

R5M4 chittered in response.

“Yes, I’m going deeper into the nebula.” Pasbu finished the looping turn as he spoke, leveling the craft off.

R5M4 chittered a warning and a reply.

“They’d have to be crazy to follow us into the nebula,” Pasbu replied, squinting as he looked at his sensor scope.

The four TIE fighters flew into the nebula in a loose horizontal line.

‘A search pattern.’ Pasbu recognized as he steered the Y-Wing deeper into the nebula.

“Alright M4, howsa dat course plotting?” Pasbu asked.

R5M4 blatted back a response.

“We may not be here in five minutes!” Pasbu hissed back, juking the controls to the left missing a twisted chunk of industrial debris by half a meter.

Glancing over his shoulders he saw the TIEs flying in their formation, a loose line. His gaze flickered back to the instrument panel. No active sensor locks.

‘If they’re following standard nebula search tactics, they’re probably going to patrol the outer part of the nebula, waiting for me to exit…likely coordinating with that Carrack cruiser and that Lancer frigate…’ Pasbu thought.

—

Calamity, Bridge
Supreme Warlord Harrsk HQ

“Report.” Commander Adhar Ru’afo began as he strode out of the turbolift onto the bridge, his cap soaking wet, and water dripping down the sides of his face.

Lieutenant Commander Kohl Gallatin nodded in acknowledgement. “Our sensor team reported an unknown metallic contact in the nebula.”

“And what distinguishes it from literally any piece of metallic debris?” Ru’afo asked, eyes narrowing.

“Lieutenant, care to explain to the Captain your reason for raising our alert status?” Gallatin turned to the officer standing to his left.

The short, stocky man with dark hair stiffly saluted. “Yes sir. My team reported the metallic contact, and our sensor scan showed movement consistent with some sort of spacecraft.”

“I see,” Ruafo’s forehead scrunched.

“It was moving deeper into the nebula when we last acquired it.” The Lieutenant gestured to a technician.

With a few keystrokes to his console, the technician called up two sensor readings a few seconds apart.

“We’ve evaluated it as a probable Y-Wing based on the maneuver. In all probability, it’s a Longprobe variant.” The Lieutenant continued as he pointed to the monitor and the probable course.

“I concurred with the Lieutenant’s assessment, sir, and launched the reconnaissance TIEs.” Gallatin stepped forward, inclining his head towards the flight traffic control console.

A whispered command by the technician to the patrolling fighters brought the three officers over to the console.

“I also reached out to the Ravager, her captain concurs. Ravager is prosecuting the contact as a possible Rebel starfighter,” Gallatin reported.

Ru’afo nodded. “I’ll call this up to HQ from my ready room. Keep me advised.”

“Aye sir,” Gallatin replied.

—-

TBC

 

Loved the more details about Ashliea's backstory especially Grandma Squadron Definitely action is about to ramp up given the later scenes.

 

Grandma Squadron was fun to make up, especially when I imagined my OC being not only the V-Wing's chief test pilot but also a new grandmother.

 

Really enjoyed catching up with this just now! The quiet moments of reflection that started 'Waves' were great; you painted a real cosy picture of the conversation and its surroundings. They were a good juxtaposition before the urgency of the flashback to Ord Mantell, and then a welcome point to return to afterwards, too. Ben and Ashliea are just real nice folks to spend time with! Particularly enjoyed Ben's line, "Talk about paralysis by analysis," when he's reacting to all the available food. Very effective!

Thanks for the tag on 'Underway' (and rest assured, your snag in writing it doesn't show). Before we even got to Pasbu's bit, I really enjoyed Ashleia telling Ben about Grandma Squadron's dedication, and how the punchline naturally segued back to Troka (before he shared waaay too much detail about his date night). You've got a real knack for natural conversational detail that makes these characters seem "real" and effortless. Nicely done!

But yeah, I obviously hope Pasbu's gonna be okay in that nebula! And the namedrop nods to Star Trek Insurrection were a cool surprise, too! Looking forward to more, as and when!

 

@Happy Sando, thank you for your very nice review on the last couple of chapters.

They're a lot of fun to write too. Most often they surprise me when they're together.

You're welcome for the tag and thanks for the reassurance. I greatly appreciate it.

You'll find out about Pasbu in due time. And the Star Trek: Insurrection crossover was intentional, for certain. I just made them two Imperial officers.