Subject: IA 7th Draft, for the Archive
Date: Fri, 02 Nov 2001 09:55:55 -0800
From: Crayz9000 <crayz9000.remove@yahoo.com>


"A Prelude to War"


 Prelude
  =======


	A golden gleam, far more brilliant than the brightest 
artificial light, was all that a visitor to one particular 
star system might see. The light, seemingly confined to a 
particular point, actually radiated throughout space - save 
for a single, invisible, point.

	From an aging star that light came, a red giant that 
was already billions of years old. Slowly, in a process 
that had occurred for countless millennia, hydrogen and 
helium escaped from the gravitational well that bound the 
star together. The various gases' destination was 
apparently nothing, but a crystal gravfield trap or 
gravitic sensor array would have said otherwise. As the 
elements settled into a somewhat perturbed elliptical orbit 
of the unseen point, they would sometimes contact the point 
and emit a brief but brilliant flash of radiation. Such 
activity was quite typical of a black hole in the process 
of cannibalizing its stellar partner.

	However, there was only one person observing the slow 
process of mutual annihilation. This person, oddly enough, 
was not inside of a spacecraft, or even a space suit for 
that matter. But despite his odd predicament, the man did 
not seem in the least bit affected. He had not exploded 
from the lack of atmosphere, and was most certainly alive. 
Indeed, thoughts rushed through his head at a frenetic 
pace. He considered the black hole for an indefinite period 
of time, eventually turning his attention to the star that 
was in the process of being consumed. But even the red 
giant could not hold his attention for long, despite the 
abundance of solar prominences, flares, and spots that 
mottled its glowing surface.

	The man shifted his attention several more times. 
From his vantage point, he observed years-old light from 
several nearby stars. Yet even they could not hold his gaze 
for long, and after much time had passed he finally spoke, 
perhaps to himself or perhaps to a higher entity. It did 
not matter; he simply spoke.

	"What am I doing here?"

	Only silence answered him, silence that was not 
unusual considering that space is a vacuum, and sound is 
caused by the vibrations of gas molecules. Gas that was, in 
this case, noticeably absent. 

	The man's long wait eventually paid off, however, 
even if his patience was being strained. A brief flicker of 
light near the edge of the anomalous star system caught the 
man's attention, and without even pausing to consider the 
strangeness of his actions he began walking towards the 
source of the light.

	It was a long walk, but the speed the man was 
travelling at could not really be measured. In a few hours, 
or perhaps months, he arrived at the destination and 
quietly continued his long observations. The source of the 
flicker turned out to be fourteen spacecraft, and the man 
nodded to himself. Finally, he had some company.

	But as he continued walking toward the collection of 
warships, the man came to realize that he was not, 
apparently, the only one interested in them. Now an even 
more insignificant group of ships, most of these new ones 
not even half the scale of the fourteen warships, appeared 
from hyperspace.

	They moved in to attack the larger ships, and soon 
space was filled with the brilliant green and red streaks 
of turbolaser fire. One of the corvette-sized attacker fell 
under the intense, continuous assault, its shields 
obviously knocked down as jets of gas and plasma erupted 
from its damaged hull. But in return one of the larger 
warships fell, spouting massive gouts of plasma from the 
ruptures on its own hull. 

	Far smaller, more insignificant specs joined the 
conflagration. They darted between the capital ships, 
dogfighting fiercely as death rained around them. Here and 
there one would die a fiery death, regardless of the side 
it was on, the victorious starfighter shooting through the 
debris cloud at high speed. In these smaller battles, it 
did not matter if the opponents were somewhat battered-
looking Z-95 Headhunters or their foes, seemingly ungainly 
craft that bore the markings of the Republic. They were 
evenly matched, and the only thing that mattered was the 
skill of the pilots, their mastery of their respective 
starfighters.

	For a period of time that the silent observer could 
not determine, the small space battle raged. Corvettes 
paired up and drove back frigates. The lone cruiser's heavy 
batteries spat green death at the attackers, sometimes 
taking them down and sometimes making the attacking 
corvettes seemingly more infuriated. A frigate succumbed to 
the punishment being dealt it, annihilating several 
friendly starfighters in the ensuing explosion. Surviving 
starfighters, some showing signs of battle damage in the 
form of damaged armor or missing wings, formed up in 
seemingly futile attack runs. 

	Missiles flew through the void, sometimes shot down 
by targeting systems and sometimes finding their targets. A 
constant barrage from the remaining corvettes that was 
aimed at the cruiser eventually succeeded in nullifying its 
shields, allowing them to inflict damage on the bare hull. 
In a span of time that might have been an eternity, they 
methodically eliminated its weapons, destroyed command 
positions, hangars, and anything else that proved to be a 
target on the six hundred meter ship, a Dreadnaught. By the 
end of their destructive rampage, the mighty ship was 
nothing more than a shattered hulk.

	The observer remained silent, and continued to 
quietly view the situation from his vantage point as 
another brief flicker of pseudomotion announced the arrival 
of yet another ship from hyperspace. This one, unlike the 
warship that had just been destroyed, had a sleek, 
triangular form of a hull. Two spherical forms, similar to 
the large solar ionization reactors used aboard some 
vessels, protruded from the ship's flanks. The observer, as 
he neared the ship, could not quite tell what they were, 
but by this point he slowly began to realize the 
similarities to an Interdictor Cruiser.

	As if on cue, the remaining corvettes - four in all - 
threw themselves upon the interdictor as a pack of 
predators might a nerf. The Interdictor, not designed for 
fleet engagements, immediately turned about to flee. 

	Then blackness.

	As if in a daze, the observer found himself lying 
prone on the deck of some warship. Slowly, his vision 
shifted upwards involuntarily, sweeping across what 
appeared to be a bridge. Klaxons blared, seemingly in the 
distance although he could see the flashing lights close at 
hand. The crew, dressed in the naval uniforms of the 
Galactic Republic, hurried about in a panic.

	His field of vision shifted again uncomfortably, and 
he saw a crew pit. Several terminals had apparently 
sustained damage, and one was smoking dangerously while the 
crew sprayed flame-retardent foam on it. 

	Someone shouted something, although the observer only 
heard a muffled voice, as if from extreme distance. He was 
not sure what had been said, but as the voice shouted again 
he was subjected to another abrupt change in his field of 
view. He seemed to bound across the deck as if in a run, 
but he could not feel anything. Then a flying leap, and he 
landed in the crew pit.

	More klaxons began blaring, and he thought he could 
hear someone shout about the main sensor dish being 
destroyed. But the vision of his host remained constant, 
focused on what appeared to be a navigational computer 
console. Hands - hands that were not his own - flew across 
a keyboard, rapidly inputting coordinates that seemed to 
streak across the screen. He was able to note the first 
eight numbers of the coordinates before he lost count.

	Then someone shouted again. The observer thought he 
could hear someone say "No!" before his field of view 
lurched drunkenly.

	Inky blackness greeted him once more.

	An indeterminate amount of time later, his lungs 
decided that something was amiss, and the result was a 
cough. It was the sort of cough that threatened to tear out 
one's larynx, but strangely enough he could not feel any 
sensations of pain. Quite odd.

	"Aw, kriff," he heard a hoarse voice swear - his own? 
- as his field of vision shifted around rapidly. Things 
seemed quite blurred, and in a surreally detached fashion 
he wondered if his eyes were not focusing for some odd 
reason.

	His next sensation was not exactly pleasant, all 
coughing aside. Put simply, he realized that he was 
falling, and tried to scream. The endeavour was 
unsuccessful, as if it would have mattered anyway. He 
slammed into a hard surface, still oddly detached from any 
sensations of pain, and watched as something dark 
completely enveloped himself.

	And then he blinked.

	Silently sighing, he realized that he was not 
unconscious again, but only covered with a blanket. Now, 
the only problem proved to be how to extricate himself from 
the oddity; he seemed to have no control over his limbs.

	But the problem was soon solved, as his body brushed 
the thermal sheets aside, and promptly coughed in another 
deep rasp.

	Now, from his perspective on the deck, it all came to 
him. He was not able to see earlier because of the smoke, 
which was also what was causing him to cough. It was to be 
expected.

	He, or perhaps his body, began crawling toward a 
brown robe that lay on the floor, and quickly put it on. 
With the attention of a person who has had nothing to do 
all day, he noted the design of the lightsaber attached to 
the robe.

	It was not his own. 

	The observer did not have time to contemplate the 
meaning of the small observation, as suddenly and 
inexplicably he found himself inside of a bacta tank. 

	And he had what was likely the galaxy's worst itch. 
Rather than feeling the strange sensation in the dermis, he 
felt it below his skin. What might have caused that, the 
observer had no idea. All he knew was that it was 
maddening.

	Then he became quite buoyant, and bobbed toward the 
surface of the bacta tank, where he was lifted out. After 
having the bacta fluid dried off himself, a bronze protocol 
droid approached him.

	"I'm glad to see you fully functional again, Master-"

	WHAM!

	Reeling, his first impression was that the droid had 
decked him. Then, his common sense kicked in, as he 
realized that protocol droids were not designed to deliver 
punches. Moreover, the maddening itch was noticeably 
absent.

	Slowly, he looked about himself. His surroundings 
were completely black, save for a single point of light. It 
blinked. He recoiled in shock.

	"Luke?" a feminine voice beside him asked. "Is 
something bothering you?"

	He decided to try an experiment, and tried to speak. 
"Room, lights on."

	The lights flicked on, and quickly Luke Skywalker, 
Jedi Master, took in his surroundings. He was sitting up on 
the floor. Above him, on the bed, lay his wife Mara. The 
blinking light he'd seen was merely that of an emergency 
fire sensor.

	Luke finally breathed a sigh of relief.

	"Luke, what is going on?" Mara asked again, her voice 
containing a hint of a plea.

	"Just a vision," the Jedi finally said exhaustedly. 
"About some ships or something like that."

	"Oh." It was not an expression of displeasure; nor 
was it an expression of excitement. Mara was simply tired. 
"Can we go back to sleep now?"

	Luke pushed the thoughts aside in his head. He could 
contemplate the vision later; now, he simply stood up and 
got back into the bed.

	"Room, lights off."



	* * *



	Streaking through space at velocities many times 
faster than light, a certain vessel was quite busy 
violating rules that Einstein had set down over four 
hundred years before.  In a single day it could cover two 
light-years, quite remarkable indeed compared to the 
aforementioned physicist's time when rockets were a 
novelty.

	The ship's shape was streamlined, with an elongated 
ellipsoid for a forward hull. A small indentation in the 
bow barely concealed a concave saucer, which was 
responsible for making sure that no stray hydrogen atoms 
would turn the vessel into a three hundred and forty-four 
meter colander. Even so, parts of its hull were scorched 
and blackened, evidence of damage it had taken in the 
previous five years.

	In large lettering, immediately above the auxiliary 
deflector dish, was printed the ship's registry number of 
NCC-74656. Somewhat closer to the ship's aft, in slightly 
smaller lettering, was printed USS VOYAGER, although this 
was not as legible due to carbon scoring.

	To the aft and below the ellipsoid saucer was the 
primary deflector dish, a flattened oblong saucer. This was 
mounted on the front of the secondary, or engineering, 
hull, which stretched to the aft of the ship. On either 
side of the engineering hull were attached the two warp 
nacelles, their fronts tapering to a point.


	"Captain?"

	From her seat on the bridge of the USS /Voyager/, 
Captain Kathryn Janeway set down a book she had been 
reading and turned her head to look at the speaker, 
Lieutenant-Commander Seven of Nine. "Yes?" she replied.

	Without hesitating, the lieutenant commander began to 
read off her displays. "Long-range sensor scans are picking 
up a fairly large artifact, range ten light-years. 
Composition appears to be primarily metallic, but the 
computer is unable to confirm its nature."

	"Can you put it on-screen?"

	"No, Captain. Object is out of visual range."

	Janeway nodded, making a mental note of it. "Do you 
believe it safe to divert our course to investigate?" 
Silently, she hoped that the object wasn't a Borg Cube. The 
way things had gone in the five years since her ship had 
entered the Delta Quadrant, it would not surprise her a bit 
if it were just the Borg assimilating another system...

	"Yes, Captain," Seven answered. "The object is three 
light-years off our present course. Its own course seems to 
be taking it into a star system, albeit at impulse speeds."

	"A day off course..." The middle-aged captain looked 
around the bridge to see the reactions of the rest of the 
crew. Most just continued about their jobs. "Not too bad, I 
suppose." She turned to face the helm. "Lieutenant Paris, 
plot an intercept course with the object and increase speed 
to Warp Eight."

	"Yes, Captain," the Lieutenant responded as he 
manipulated the controls. "Course set, increasing warp 
velocity."

	Janeway leaned back in the command chair, re-opening 
the book and attempting to figure out where she had been.


Chapter One
  ===========



	"Captain's Log, Stardate 52579.1.
	"After nearly a week's journey at high warp, we have 
finally reached the object, although my crew seems to be at 
a disagreement as to its identity. I will add more 
information to this as we learn more."

	Captain Kathryn Janeway shut off the recording 
device, and once again focused on the viewscreen. From the 
distance of two hundred meters, the computer listed the 
ship - she couldn't think of it as anything but - as six 
hundred meters in length. Its structure, from what was 
shown on the viewscreen, was comprised of a massive aft 
hull that housed three equally massive ion engines. This in 
turn was connected to a forward hull that somewhat 
resembled an upside-down cross between a pyramid and a 
termite mound. Although its patchy appearance, with pipes 
protruding at seemingly random intervals, might have made 
one look twice, she was now sure it was no Borg vessel.

	Every part of the ship seemed to have a purpose. On 
the starboard side was a small opening that was very likely 
a hangar bay. Then there were the aforementioned engines to 
the rear of the vessel, and an extension of some sort that 
protruded for nearly fifty meters from the aft hull she 
took to be the bridge.

	"Seven, have the scans turned up anything yet?" she 
casually inquired.

	"They have not revealed anything that we have..." At 
that point, the former Borg drone's voice trailed off, and 
a perplexed expression came over her normally calm face. 
"Perhaps I am mistaken. Sensors have just picked up over 
two hundred life-signs aboard the vessel. Most seem to 
correspond to human life, although there seems to be an 
exception. All signatures exhibit dramatically slowed 
metabolic rates and almost non-existant heartbeats. Some 
signatures, however, do not seem to match anything stored 
in the computer."

	"Hibernation?" Janeway asked.

	"Possibly."

	Slowly, the Captain nodded, somewhat surprised at 
finding human life so far displaced from Earth. "Weapons 
systems, then?"

	"The computer has not identified any phaser or 
disruptor emplacements, although there are five turret-like 
forms that the computer identifies as possible laser-
activated plasma weapons. In addition, it reads two ports 
that may be torpedo launchers."

	"Are you reading any shielding, Seven?"

	"No, Captain, unless the shield generators are 
deactivated."

	Janeway came to her feet, turning to the Chief 
Security Officer's position. "Well, Tuvok, would you advise 
sending an away team to investigate the vessel?"

	"That all depends, Captain," the dark-skinned Vulcan 
responded. "We do not know if they are hostile or not. They 
may, indeed, dislike our intrusion onto their vessel, in 
which case perhaps we should wait and continue to scan for 
transmissions. For all we know, they communicate using 
entirely different technology."

	Janeway narrowed her eyes. "They're human. Why would 
they use different communications technology?"

	"We must take all possibilities into account, 
Captain. They may be from the future, in which case we do 
not know for sure what technologies they use."

	"Well, Captain Braxton's vessel still used subspace 
communicators..."

	"Yet, he was only from the 29th century. Will we 
still be using subspace communicators another thousand 
years beyond that? Remember your own history, Captain. 
Until the invention of "radio" by Marconi in the late 19th 
century, communications were limited to the telegraph. A 
thousand years before that, humans were still using smoke 
signals."

	"That may be the case," Janeway replied. "Yet I still 
think we should send an away team, perhaps to initiate 
First Contact or perhaps to re-establish contact with the 
humans aboard the vessel. Do you disagree?"

	"I will trust your judgment, Captain."

	She smiled. "I knew you would, Lieutenant Commander. 
Prepare the away team."

	Before he could acknowledge, she had turned around. 
"Commander Chakotay, you have the bridge."

	"Yes, Captain," Chakotay acknowledged as Janeway, 
Seven, and Tuvok stepped into the turbolift.

	"Transporter room one," Tuvok commanded the computer, 
then turned to the Captain. "Permission to speak freely, 
Captain?"

	"What is it, Tuvok?"

	He bit his lip, an unusual expression for a Vulcan. 
"There was something else that bothered me, which I did not 
wish to ask on the Bridge."

	"Go ahead."

	"The Prime Directive, Captain."

	"And what about it?" Janeway asked, beginning to tire 
of picking apart Tuvok's thought processes.

	"It was designed to limit contact with pre-warp 
civilizations, and this ship you wish to investigate has no 
trace of warp drives or antimatter reactors. Therefore, it 
is my fear that we will violate the Prime Directive by 
initiating contact with this race or sect."

	The computer chimed, indicating that the turbolift 
had arrived at the destination. Tuvok quickly reached for 
the controls, preventing the door from opening.

	In the meantime, Janeway was considering what he had 
just said. "Our mission, Lieutenant Commander, is also to 
seek out new forms of life. The only thing we have to be 
careful of is that we do not adversely affect the culture, 
as the USS Horizon did two hundred years ago."

	Tuvok looked uncertain, as if he was about to say 
something else. Finally, he simply nodded and opened the 
turbolift door, walking out into the transporter room.

	Janeway noticed that Tuvok hadn't been lazy, having 
called the rest of the away team from his console. B'Elanna 
Torres, the ship's chief engineer was already there, and so 
were several ensigns, among them Harry Kim and Alexander 
Munro.

	She turned to the transporter control console, in 
time to see him giving orders to the transporter chief. 

	"You understand where we are going, correct?" Tuvok 
asked him.

	"Yes, Sir. The hangar bay."

	"Good. Now we will need full space suits, compression 
rifles, and tricorders."

	"I understand, Sir."

	"Are we ready?" Janeway addressed everyone.

	A half-dozen "Yes, Captain" acknowledgments instantly 
came. Janeway nodded, stepping onto the transporter pad. 
The other four members of the away team followed suit.

	"Engage," she ordered the transporter chief, soon 
feeling the strange dissolving effect of the transporter.


	They re-materialized in the hangar bay of the Bulk 
Cruiser. It was fairly dark, only illuminated by starlight 
reflected by Voyager, and the shadowy shapes of several 
shuttles greeted the away team.

	"Ow!" one ensign exclaimed as he crashed into 
something he couldn't see. "Darn it, I tore my suit."

	"Munro, why do you always forget to turn on your 
light-" Torres started to respond, before realizing 
something. "You tore your suit?"

	"Yeah," he responded. "There's a tear almost ten 
centimeters long in it. I caught it on this... this... 
whatever this is." He leaned against the shuttle, and bent 
as far as the suit would allow to take a look at whatever 
he had torn the suit on.

	"Well, if you're still alive, then there has to be 
air in here somehow," the engineer calmly observed, 
clumsily lifting her tricorder to eye level.

	"Wait," Munro quickly said. "We're supposed to be in 
vacuum?" Without realizing it, he was starting to sweat 
profusely under his faceplate.

	"That's what I thought it was, at first," Torres 
responded over the comm. "But it's got atmosphere, all 
right. The pressure is at 1016 millibars, oxygen is at 
eighteen percent, and all the other gases are in the 
correct proportions for human life."

	Janeway let out a small, albeit somewhat nervous 
laugh. "What did you expect with a ship that has humans on 
it?"

	"With all due respect, Captain, that isn't the 
point," Torres snapped. "I thought this hangar was open to 
vacuum. It doesn't have any doors!"

	"Perhaps it is not entirely open to vacuum," Seven 
reported from the far end of the hangar bay. "I am reading 
a magnetic field covering the opening." Slowly, she 
extended her left arm toward the slightly shimmering field. 
It penetrated the near-invisible field effortlessly, and 
she retracted it. "I don't believe these suits are 
necessary anymore," she finally said, reaching up to remove 
her helmet.

	"Wait!" Ensign Kim shouted over the comm. "How do we 
know the air isn't poisoned?"

	Everyone looked at Ensign Munro, who was in turn 
uncomfortably staring at the tear in his suit. In response, 
Seven continued to unclasp her helmet, finally pulling it 
off.

	"Transporter room," she began over the comm, "we 
don't need these space suits anymore. You can beam them 
back."

	"Acknowledged, Lieutenant Commander." There was a 
pause, and then the bulky suits disappeared.  Seven flexed 
her arms, and took in a deep breath of the air.

	"Much better," she finally said, hooking the 
tricorder to her belt. "Even if the air is a bit stale."

	Torres hesitated, then took a breath as well, 
wrinkling her nose as she smelled it. "Smells a little 
oily," she finally said. "Like it's been processed for a 
few too many years." The half-Klingon shrugged. "It's 
breathable, though."

	"Uh, hey, does someone want to take a look at this?" 
Munro asked, standing near what appeared to be a sealed 
door.

	Torres quickly stepped forward, aiming her light at 
the door. The beam played across the door, and she stopped 
moving it as it showed a control panel of some sort. As she 
lowered herself on one knee to see the panel at eye level, 
Kim turned away from her, only to be met with Seven of 
Nine's inquisitive stare.

	"Great," he muttered. Then he turned toward the only 
other ensign on the away team, and raised his voice to a 
more normal level in an attempt to dispel the eerie silence 
that seemed to hang over the ship. "So, Munro, what do you 
think about this so far? Like anything they prepped you for 
in the Hazard Team?"

	"Not really," Munro tensely admitted. "But then we 
haven't seen much of anything yet."

	"Right," Kim said slowly as he turned back to the 
blastdoor, in time to see B'Elanna begin working the 
control panel. Apparently as a result of her working the 
panel, a heavy blast shield slowly slid over the door.

	"I guess that didn't work," she commented, more to 
herself than anyone else. "Maybe this one..."

	A klaxon went off, which had the effect of making 
Munro snort in amusement at the situation.

	"No, that's not it either." Hearing the noises behind 
her, she finally turned around.

	"Something wrong?" she asked the two ensigns.

	Kim hesitated, nervously glancing around himself. 
"The klaxon," he finally admitted.

	"What about..." The half-Klingon's voice trailed off 
as a ring of lights flicked on at the far edge of the 
hangar bay, apparently designed to alert hangar crews as to 
where the edge was. Slowly, more lights along the walls 
came on, their light bright enough that Torres eventually 
reached up and shut off her own light. 

	Almost every member of the away team looked at each 
other in a mix of surprise, consternation, and 
apprehension. 

	"Just like one of Tuvok's holo-simulations," Munro 
lightly commented after several awkward moments. "Plenty of 
suspense before the action starts."

	Torres let out a small laugh, the tension obviously 
broken. "Well, this isn't a simulation, Ensign. Even... if 
it might be suspenseful." She glanced at the blastdoor. 
"Anyone have suggestions on how we get past that, though?"

	There was no audible response, although Seven shifted 
her compression rifle slightly. 

	"I don't think blasting the control panel would 
work," Kim eventually commented.

	"Why not?" Munro quietly asked, shifting his own 
phaser rifle to his left hand and making some adjustments.

	"For one, I don't think it would be a good idea to 
fire weapons aboard this ship."

	Munro was about to object when a loud click came from 
the control panel, and the blast-door rolled back along 
with the other door.

	"See what I mean?" Kim said, nodding at the door. 
"Come on, let's take a look."

	Seven was the first one to step through the newly 
opened door, gripping her compression rifle as if it were 
part of her that could not be released. She quickly scanned 
the corridor, determining it to be clear.

	B'Elanna was close in following, carrying her 
tricorder as if it were a weapon. "Life forms are roughly 
fifty meters aft and two decks below us," the half-Klingon 
lieutenant read off the display.

	"How are we supposed to get there?" Kim pointed out. 
"I don't see any turbolifts."

	As if in response, a hissing sound came from one end 
of the corridor as a curved door slid aside.

	Captain Janeway looked about herself nervously. "Is 
this ship alive? I'm really beginning to get a bad feeling 
about this."

	"Well, I don't see any tentacles reaching for us 
yet," Kim quipped.

	"I fail to see the humor in that, Ensign," Tuvok 
replied as he followed Torres' lead to the turbolift.

	"It's just the cynicism you get from being in the 
Delta Quadrant for five years," Munro said, stepping inside 
and looking around nervously.

	"I understood that, Ensign."

	As soon as Janeway and Kim entered, the door quickly 
hissed shut.

	"Great," Kim sarcastically commented. "Now what?"

	The car shuddered briefly, the movement accompanied 
by a fairly loud grinding noise that only grew in 
intensity. Quickly, B'Elanna grabbed her tricorder, 
consulting its display.

	"We're moving," she finally reported, "in the 
direction of what ought to be hibernation chambers."

	Janeway's expression remained placid, but her voice 
conveyed a different feeling. "I'm really beginning to be 
convinced that this ship is intelligent."

	"And I'm beginning to agree with you," Kim quietly 
commented as the grinding noise diminished, and the 
turbolift door slid open.

	The corridor that they were confronted with was 
little different from the one they had stepped off of, and 
indeed were it not for the different symbol on the wall the 
team might have been convinced that the turbolift had 
indeed come back to the hangar level.

	But as they stared at the walls in confusion, 
something quickly caught their attention -  a small, one-
meter tall cylindrical android, which was busy at a socket 
of some sort.

	"What on Earth is _that_?" Alexander asked. "Looks 
like a garbage can on wheels."

	If the android heard his comment, it made no sign of 
acknowledgement, and continued to work the socket.

	"Maybe this is a ship of robots," Kim suggested.

	Torres shook her head. "Those two hundred life-signs, 
remember?"

	"Oh... yeah." he responded, somewhat embarrassed. 
Then he raised his voice and shouted. "Hey! Robot!"

	The android stopped, spinning its dome around to 
point its single optical sensor at them.

	"Can you understand me?" he asked it.

	The droid let out a series of rude-sounding 
electronic blats.

	"I guess not." The ensign turned to the half-Klingon 
lieutenant. "Maybe it understands Klingon."

	"I wouldn't think so," she finally responded.

	He was already trying something else. Apparently 
having previously contacted Voyager, his clarinet appeared 
in his hand. "It beeps and whistles," he explained. "Its 
language could be musical."

	"Spare me," Torres sarcastically replied.

	Kim played a simple series of notes on the clarinet. 
The result was that the droid let out an even more rude-
sounding barrage of electronic blats, then scooted away as 
fast as its wheels could carry it.

	"I think you just insulted it," Munro dryly observed. 
"Some First Contact."

	"So what am I?" Harry countered. "Comic relief?"

	"No, I thought that was Neelix's job."

	By this point, the two ensigns had fallen behind 
while Lieutenant Torres turned and stopped at another door.

	"I think the life-forms are just beyond this door," 
she finally reported. "Now if I only I can open it..."

	"Careful," Janeway warned. "We don't know what else 
might be hiding behind it."

	"I'm not reading anything other than the life-forms 
and a bunch of androids, like that one we ran into." Torres 
looked at the controls more closely this time, and finally 
hit one of the buttons. Uneventfully, the door slid back 
along its tracks.

	"There are your life-forms," Janeway said after 
having stepped through the door, waving her hand across the 
chamber where hundreds of brick-like shapes were.

	The six members of the away team carefully began to 
walk forward as if they were moving through a Borg vessel. 
	"They're in hibernation, all right," Torres said. 
"Encased in some form of carbon."

	Kim stepped closer, peering at a face that protruded 
from one of the bricks. "I don't think they were put in it 
against their will. Too peaceful."

	"That eliminates the possibility of a robot 
uprising," Tuvok observed.

	"Looks like there's some sort of heart rhythm monitor 
on this end," Kim said, circling the brick. "I think we 
should get the Doctor over here."

	"Perhaps that will be unnecessary," Seven said as she 
stepped up to the brick. After concentrating on the display 
for some time, she pressed several buttons in sequence.

	"Uh, Seven?" Ensign Kim hurriedly backed away from 
the unit's front as it began to emit a high-pitched whine. 
"I don't know what you did, but you made it do something."

	The whining sound continued to vary in pitch, as 
thousands of small pinpricks of light began to form in the 
dissolving carbonite. The pinpricks began to merge, forming 
larger holes that expanded outward, revealing the frozen 
person's face. Gradually, his entire body was released, and 
the man started to collapse to the deck before Seven caught 
him.

	He was obviously alive. After being caught, he slowly 
turned his head, blinking rapidly as if his eyes were 
filled with sand. He mumbled something that no member of 
the away team could understand.

	Seven eased the dazed man upright, and he turned and 
felt her arm as if he were attempting to determine what she 
were. Again he said something incomprehensible, and in 
response the former Borg inclined her head.

	Eventually, she spoke. "I do not know what he is 
trying to say. Perhaps we should bring the Doctor over?"

	Almost like a baby learning to walk, the man turned 
and groped for something to grab on to. Feeling the 
carbonite brick, he grasped at its side to steady himself, 
then turned around and said something else in whatever 
language he spoke. 

	As if he had called them, several more droids moved 
toward the away team, some humanoid and some like the 
barrel-shaped android the away team had encountered in the 
corridor.

	"Here come the androids," Kim observed.

	The leading droid, a golden-bronze colored, roughly 
human-height robot, stopped about a meter from the away 
team. It cocked its head as if listening to what Kim had 
said, then finally spoke in a male voice.

	"Greetings. I am E-4PO, human-cyborg relations." The 
droid turned toward the recently awakened human, listening 
to what he was saying. "Master Dellen respectfully wishes 
to know who you are."

	The six members of the away team looked at each other 
in confusion.





 Chapter Two
  ============



	Bright. So bright...

	Another man groaned, rubbing at his eyes as though 
he'd slept in. It wasn't too far from the truth, 
considering that he had been in hibernation for the past 
sixty years.

	"Fourpio, see if you can help them with their 
translators," he heard someone - probably Master Dellen - 
order a droid in another part of the storeroom. 

	"Certainly, Master Dellen," the protocol droid 
responded, confirming his suspicions. He blindly groped 
toward the voice, trying not to stumble in the maze of 
carbonite hibernation units.

	"Hello, Captain," the Jedi Master addressed him 
casually. "Might want to step to the left a bit, or you'll 
run into a carbon-freeze unit."

	Captain Avin sidestepped, silently thanking the Jedi. 
"What's all the fuss about?" he finally asked.

	"Fuss?" Although the blinded Captain could not see 
it, Dellen was surveying his surrounding area. "We got six 
intruders somehow. They all look human, although I could be 
mistaken about two of them."

	"Kriff," Avin cursed under his breath. "They try to 
take over the ship or something?"

	"No," Dellen responded thoughtfully. "They say 
they're from a passing spacecraft, trying to get home as 
well. Hailed us, but when nobody responded they decided to 
come over and have a look for themselves."

	"Humans? Are they from our galaxy?"

	"No, Captain, that's what is so strange. They claim 
that their home is on the other side of the galaxy, about a 
week's trip through hyperspace."

	Avin's vision was getting somewhat better. Instead of 
a shapeless white blur, he could distinguish large objects, 
although his eyes still refused to focus.

	"They must have a pretty primitive propulsion 
system," he finally commented.

	"That's what it looks like. Well, as soon as Master 
C'baoth is ready we'll head to one of the diplomatic rooms 
and try to figure out what's going on."

	By the time Captain Avin could see clearly, he was 
struck by the appearance of the six-person team. Their 
uniforms, unlike standard Republic uniforms, were tight-
fitting, somewhat sleek uniforms that had a small 
arrowhead-shaped badge on the chest. 

	After half a minute of dazedly looking them over, he 
nearly broke out laughing. 'That's what's so strange about 
them,' he thought, 'their uniforms look like thermal 
undergarments.'

	His muffled snort caught their attention. As the 
leading person, a human female of average height, turned 
toward him, he walked over to them.

	"Hello," he said, extending his hand. "Jonas Avin, 
captain of this vessel."

	Although the leader of the team accepted and shook 
his hand, she obviously couldn't understand what he had 
said. Avin held up a finger, and turned around to a silvery 
protocol droid.

	"Fourpio, get over here."

	"Excuse me, Sir," the droid said somewhat haughtily, 
"I am TC-17, military protocol droid."

	"I don't care if you're an SP-80," Avin sarcastically 
retorted. "Just get over here." As the droid shuffled over, 
the Captain was sure that had it the capacity to display 
facial expressions, it would be glaring at him.


	Janeway watched the argument between the man and the 
android with slight bemusement. Finally, however, it seemed 
that the man won, as the droid turned and began 
translations.

	"This is unsettled Jonas Avin, captain of this 
trawler."

	Captain Janeway turned to Tuvok with a confused 
expression on her face. "Unsettled?" she asked as she 
turned back to the android, wondering what on Earth it 
meant. "Trawler?"

	"Ah, gluon me. My transfusion dank seem to be 
corrupted." The droid's optical sensors dimmed for several 
seconds, then came back on. "Prettier?"

	She shook her head. "You don't look any prettier to 
me."

	"Un segundo, sí," the droid said as its optical 
sensors dimmed again. "Schprecken le Jonas?"

	"What's it trying to say?" Munro asked from behind 
her.

	"No goose," the droid continued, emitting a series of 
high-pitched whistles. "Permutation program es 
descompuesto. Numero of possible permutations da Basic-1039 
exceed capacidad da number uno databank." It emitted more 
whistles, then made a long, drawn-out beeping noise and 
froze.

	Apparently having been called, the 4PO model which 
had greeted them earlier shuffled toward the away team, 
pausing to regard the frozen droid.

	"Pardon me," it finally said. "The TC-17 line of 
protocol droids was never very good at long-term operation. 
Cybot Galactica made quite a serious mistake in using less 
expensive memory registers to conserve price." It stiffly 
turned as Avin tapped it on the shoulder.

	"Ah, the esteemed Captain wishes to introduce 
himself. Jonas Avin, captain of this vessel. He gives you 
his warmest greetings."

	Janeway nodded. "Tell him that I am pleased to meet 
him, and also that I apologise for intruding on his ship."

	The droid did so, turning back after Avin replied.

	"Master Avin says that he accepts your apology, but 
is curious as to who you represent."

	"The United Federation of Planets," Janeway supplied. 
"I am Captain of the Starship Voyager." She paused as one 
of the other people walked up to Captain Avin, and spoke to 
the droid. 

	After delivering its translation, the droid turned 
back. "Master Dellen asks if I may be of assistance 
programming your translation implants."

	The captain shook her head. "No, but thank you. The 
Universal Translator will on occasion take time to fully 
'learn' a language." She looked around the converted cargo 
hold, which was buzzing with the voices of the awakened 
crew. "Perhaps we can continue this somewhere that is 
quieter?"


	* * *


	The conference room proved to be larger than Janeway 
would have imagined aboard a spacegoing vessel. A table 
that would easily have seated twenty was at its center, and 
the walls were apparently covered in holographic 
tapestries.

	At the insistence of a person she had come to know as  
"Jedi Master"--whatever that meant--Jorus C'baoth, she took 
her seat just off one end of the table, and the rest of the 
away team lined up beside her. Then the other group filed 
in, taking their seats across the table from the Voyager 
personnel.

	The appearance of this "C'baoth," however, struck her 
as... _different._ A fairly short black beard that was 
interspersed with grey stripes adorned his sharp chin, and 
wavy, somewhat unkempt black hair hung down in a loose 
ponytail. He wore a simple and rough brown robe, tied at 
the waist with an equally rough cord. Clipped to the cord 
was a silvery cylinder approximately twenty centimeters in 
length, which Janeway had no idea as to the identity of, 
although she noticed that he seemed to carry no weapons.

	The one that she had learned was named Dellen seemed 
to be dressed in a similar style, although he was 
apparently far younger. His hair was of a lighter tone than 
C'baoth's, but his robe was a flat grey color. Like 
C'baoth, he seemed to have the same kind of peculiar 
cylinder clipped to his waist.

	Then there was the man called Avin, who was 
apparently the Captain. From a glance, Janeway could tell 
that he was probably her own age, although he might have 
been older. 

	"So," C'baoth began, "tell us about yourselves."

	Subconsciously, as if something he said had prompted 
an emotional response, Janeway felt compelled to tell him 
their story. This she did; she explained what the 
Federation was and where they were, and how her own 
starship had ended up in the Delta Quadrant - dragged 
across the galaxy against their will by a mysterious being 
called the Caretaker. She explained how they had eventually 
taken on the stranded crew of the Maquis raider, and how 
they had brushed with the Kazon on more than one occasion. 
Neelix, the Talaxian hitchhiker they had picked up as a 
"travel guide" and "master chef"; the problem with Species 
8472, and how it had eventually been resolved. The addition 
of Seven of Nine to the crew. The final parting of Kes, and 
how she had propelled them ten thousand light-years closer 
to home. The treachery of Arturis in setting up an 
elaborate scheme just to exact revenge for the assimilation 
of his species.

	"And here we are today," she finished almost an hour 
later. "Fifty years from getting home."

	Captain Avin sighed, looking across the conference 
table. "I understand," he finally said. "We're only 
seventy-six years from our home galaxy."

	Janeway's countenance took on a look of confusion. 
"You're from one of the dwarf companions of this galaxy?"

	The other captain frowned, as if he were attempting 
to recall an almost-forgotten fact. "Much further than 
that. Eighty-five million light-years distant, to be 
specific."

	Her jaw dropped slightly in shock as Avin continued.

	"According to the ship's navigator, even though it 
would have taken us a bit over seventy years to get home it 
would be fruitless. Most planets would be either dried up 
or consumed by supernovae."

	"In only seventy years?" Kim broke in. "That's 
astronomically impossible. Stars have a lifespan measured 
in the billions of years."

	"You don't get it, do you," Avin resignedly said. "We 
accidentally went through a wormhole, which not only moved 
us through space but time as well." He tapped at a control 
panel in front of his chair, and at the center of the table 
a hologram appeared. "This is a composite holo that the 
computer assembled after our arrival, with light that was 
emitted from our galaxy eighty-five million years ago." The 
captain then worked the controls again, and a far more 
detailed map appeared. "This, by comparison, is a map of 
our galaxy made just before we left." He worked the 
controls once more, and the two appeared side-by-side.

	"They're almost identical," Janeway finally said, 
wrinkling her brow in concentration as she observed the 
holograms. "So you are from the past." Then she frowned as 
a thought hit her. "If your galaxy's had eighty-five 
million years to evolve, shouldn't they have developed a 
faster way of travel, and come and rescue you?"

	Captain Avin stared at the two images for a moment 
before working his console again. This time, a single map 
appeared; it seemed to rotate at a noticeable pace. As it 
did so, several bright dots appeared, glimmering briefly 
before fading. He stopped the projector as a particularly 
bright dot appeared near the galaxy's center.

	"This is another composite that the ship's systems 
recorded in the sixty years we were traveling to this star 
system. See that bright dot?" He pointed at the brightest 
of the dots that had appeared in the time-lapse recording. 
"That's the Cauldron Nebula. Something must have happened 
there nineteen years ago, because those stars were only 
blue giants, early on in their lives."

	"Blue giants don't just spontaneously go nova," 
Janeway stated, wondering exactly what this Captain was 
getting at.

	"Exactly my point. The average amount of supernovae  
since we left has risen dramatically, and we don't know 
why. Fact is, no other Republic ships have come here, and 
there are any number of reasons why they might not have. 
The Republic could have forgotten about us, decided it was 
not worth the effort, or they could have even been 
destroyed - eighty-five million years is a long time for 
anything, and we only know that the Republic was founded 
several tens of thousands of years before we left." 

	He paused to look at the rest of the people at the 
table before continuing. "But as I was saying, we decided 
to enter hibernation and cruise to this system, in the 
hopes of finding a sentient, space-going species to 
continue our mission."

	"Continue your mission?"

	Avin looked over at the brown-robed Jedi. "You want 
to answer that, Master?"

	"This is the Ny'lith Boro," C'baoth began with a 
slight note of pride. "A Neutron Star-class Bulk Cruiser, 
she was commissioned for one purpose: to extend the reach 
of the Republic beyond our galaxy. I organized this 
project, and saw it to completion and eventually launch.
	"Sixty years ago - our time - we launched from the 
Yaga Minor shipyards, and set out through the Unknown 
Regions of our galaxy. We were forced out of hyperspace en 
route, and attacked by a Republic warship.
	"Even though I knew it would cause severe damage to 
our hyperdrive, I quickly made the decision to jump to 
hyperspace inside the gravity well. We encountered a 
wormhole, and ended up here in this galaxy, a good eighty-
five million years in the future."
	C'baoth paused, and took a drink of amber liquid from 
a glass in front of him. "So, as Captain Avin has already 
explained, we entered hibernation until we reached this 
system, hoping to find a space-faring civilization."

	"I'm..." Janeway paused. "I'm really sorry to hear 
about that." She quickly thought it over. These were people 
who could cross the distance between galaxies in the time 
it took /Voyager/ to cross a galaxy. Androids appeared to 
be a common thing for them. And they said that their 
mission was to extend the reach of the Republic; so, 
apparently, they would not be going home anytime soon. 

	'What does that mean for us?' she wondered to 
herself.

	"It's no problem," C'baoth reassured her.

	"I wish there was something we could do for you," 
Captain Kathryn Janeway continued, "but our ship has 
limited resources as it is."

	"Perhaps there is something we can do for you," 
another man that she hadn't noticed said. "If we could 
repair our hyperdrive, we can tow your ship home in a 
matter of weeks."

	Without realizing it, her face suddenly brightened. 
"You can?" she hurriedly asked.

	"It's not a big deal," the man, whose name was Derek, 
said. "The only problem was that the engine room staff was 
killed during a fire. I was the only survivor, and alone I 
don't have either the time or the concentration to repair 
the hyperdrive."

	Janeway nodded, catching on to the plan. "So you want 
the assistance of our engineers in exchange for giving us a 
ride home."

	"Correct."

	"There's just something else I want to know," she 
continued. "What is this Republic you represent?"

	"The Republic of legend," C'baoth replied. "If you 
were from our galaxy, you would not need to know what it 
is, only that it is. It spans the entire galaxy," he said 
with pride. "Its peacekeepers are the Jedi Knights, who for 
a thousand generations have been the guardians of peace and 
justice."

	She slowly nodded. "You said you were a Jedi. What 
are the Jedi?"

	"I am a Jedi Master," he corrected. "As are the other 
five Jedi aboard this vessel." He sighed. "We are members 
of an ancient order, the Jedi. Originally we were scholars, 
interested in debating moral matters.

	"Then, untold thousands of years later, we 
encountered a race that introduced us to the Force. We 
learned what it was and how to use it. Then, we truly 
became powerful. Our numbers swelled into the hundreds of 
thousands. We were feared by criminals, lauded by the just.

	"Our influence spread throughout the galaxy. When the 
Republic was founded so many thousands of years ago, we 
became an essential part of it. We were the diplomats of 
choice, the preferred mediators of arguments. 

	"But there was always another side to the power we 
wielded. The Dark Side. Those Jedi who could not control 
their anger fell, and many became ruthless warlords. Eleven 
thousand years before we left, the Schism of the Jedi 
occurred."

	C'baoth allowed a look of resignation to cross his 
face. "The battles continued for over eight thousand years, 
eventually culminating when the Republic assembled over 
three thousand warships to destroy a traitor's jungle base.

	"Sadly, our own numbers have been dwindling as of 
late. When this ship left our galaxy, there were only ten 
thousand left. And I fear by now..." His voice trailed off 
as he stared into space.


	Janeway felt herself swept up into the story he had 
told. She could almost see giant warships, larger than the 
largest Borg Cube, descending on a seemingly tranquil 
jungle moon. Deadly fire pouring down on the moon, 
exterminating the treacherous Exar Kun and his Massassi 
minions...

	She was suddenly brought back to reality as she 
realized that he had never stated the name of the Sith Lord 
aloud. "The Force," Janeway quietly said. "You're 
telepaths."

	"I would not say we are telepaths as much as we are 
attuned to life itself," C'baoth replied, as calm as ever.

	"That's it," she said, standing up and pushing her 
chair back, in a sudden rage at his implanting thoughts 
into her mind. "There will be no deal."

	Tuvok turned his head to regard her with a blank 
Vulcan stare, while the captain of the /Ny'lith Boro/ had a 
quite plain expression of shock on his face.

	"Captain," Tuvok started, "your decision seems quite 
illogical.

	She ignored them, tapping her commbadge. "Janeway to 
Voyager. Beam us out."

	"Suit yourself," the Jedi finally said with a note of 
resignation. "I guess that means you don't get home, and 
neither do we."

	Captain Janeway and the rest of /Voyager's/ away team 
gradually dissolved in the transporter mists.


	* * *


	Chakotay came to attention as the Captain walked out 
of the turbolift. "How did it go?" he asked.

	"Not as well as I would have liked," Janeway vaguely 
responded as she turned to the helm. "Lieutenant Paris, we 
will continue on our original course, Warp Six."

	"Captain?" he questioned.

	"Do it."

	"Uh... yes, Captain," the Lieutenant replied with 
some hesitation. "Warp Six."

	"Captain," Chakotay began, "may I ask what happened?"
	Janeway took a last look at the Bulk Cruiser as 
Voyager accelerated to warp, cutting off the viewscreen 
image. "I'll be in my ready room," she said as she stepped 
into the turbolift. "Ask me there."



	By the time the turbolift opened on the deck 
containing her ready room, Janeway was beginning to realize 
how exhausted she was from the away mission. She glanced 
down at a wristwatch, noting that she had spent nearly five 
hours aboard the alien vessel.

	Absentmindedly, she tapped the small control panel 
next to the door. It quietly slid open, and beyond it the 
room's lights activated.

	"Coffee," Janeway ordered the room's small 
replicator. "Black. Hot." Within moments, a white cup 
appeared and she took it, sitting down in a chair across 
the room.

	"Computer, give me all the data there is on the Bulk 
Cruiser."

	Several monitors came to life, showing various 
diagrams and text data screens. She disinterestedly looked 
them over, pausing several times to change screens.

	For nearly half an hour, the room remained quiet save 
for Janeway drumming her fingers against the chair rest. 
Then, the door softly chimed, startling the Captain out of 
her seat. "Come in," she finally acknowledged after 
glancing around the ready room.

	The door promptly slid aside, revealing the 
mysterious visitor. "Hello, Commander," Janeway announced. 
"Have a seat."

	"I'd prefer to stand," Chakotay replied, taking a 
close look at one of the monitors in front of the Captain. 
"What is this?" he asked in a subdued voice after several 
moments had passed. "Analysis of Republic Bulk Cruiser, 
page five of fifty...?"

	Janeway heaved a sigh, looking at him with bloodshot 
eyes. "I've been analyzing the data we gathered on that 
ship," she responded. "Frankly, I've never seen anything 
like it."

	She tapped a button on the console, and an audio 
recording began playing.

	"This is the Ny'lith Boro," the recorded voice began. 
"A Neutron Star-class Bulk Cruiser, she was commissioned 
for one purpose: to extend the reach of the Republic beyond 
our galaxy. I organized this project, and saw it to 
completion and eventually launch."

	"I haven't heard of any Republic," Chakotay said 
quizzically.

	"That's because there isn't," Janeway replied. "Here, 
at least. Listen."

	The voice continued. "Sixty years ago - our time - we 
launched from the Yaga Minor shipyards, and set out through 
the Unknown Regions of our galaxy. We were forced out of 
hyperspace en route, and attacked by a Republic warship."

	"Republic again," the Commander began before Janeway 
raised her hand and silenced him.

	"Even though I knew it would cause severe damage to 
our hyperdrive, I quickly made the decision to jump to 
hyperspace inside the gravity well. We encountered a 
wormhole, and ended up here in this galaxy, a good eighty-
five million years in the future."

	"Hyperspace?"

	Janeway nodded. "Hyperspace. You might call it a 
higher domain of subspace."

	"I heard lectures about it when I was in the Academy. 
But nobody had any idea of how to use it... until now." The 
implications of what he just said caught up to Chakotay. 
"Permission to speak freely?"

	"Go ahead."

	"Captain... why did you return so quickly? Were they 
hostile?"

	She shook her head.

	"I can see that something's bothering you, Captain. 
What happened?"

	"They're... they're humans," Janeway finally said. 
"Tricorder scans are a perfect match, although to be 
perfectly sure we would need a DNA sample."

	"But that isn't all, is it."

	The Captain nodded slightly. "Several seem to be 
telepathic, among them the one that seems to be the 
leader."

	Chakotay studied her face for nearly a minute. "And 
you left because of that?" When she nodded, he continued. 
"We've dealt with telepaths before. Remember Species Eight-
Four-Seven-Two?"

	"All too well," Janeway replied. "And that's part of 
my problem. Virtually every telepathic race we have 
encountered tried to destroy us."

	"The Ocampa didn't," the Commander pointed out.

	"They're an exception."

	He was not convinced. "These... humans never tried to 
fire on us. They showed us no hostility-"

	"And neither did Arturis, at least until the very 
end."

	"If our supernumeraries didn't always have their 
phasers set on stun, maybe we could have avoided that 
particular problem," Chakotay retorted. "Of course, you 
always insist on being part of the away team. You probably 
remember when we were forced to leave you on a planet 
because of your participation in an away team, until I gave 
up and tried to find a cure for your disease."

	"Commander-" 

	He cut her off. "Captain, after five years in this 
dump of a quadrant, I have just about had it with your 
decisions. You have put both yourself and the crew in 
danger on more than one occasion. And there have been times 
when I was tempted to relieve you of your command, 
regardless of what might happen when we reach Earth."

	"It-"

	Chakotay was not done yet. "The Caretaker offered to 
let us back through his array. He even had a self-destruct 
device in place. Yet you felt sorry for the poor Ocampa, so 
we blew it up and saved their day. We also had a chance to 
run for the Bajoran wormhole, yet we did not."

	"We would be traveling through Dominion space. 
Besides, as I heard a few days before we left, Captain 
Benjamin Sisko mined the other end."

	"Fine," Chakotay shrugged. "Maybe he did. And maybe 
we could have used the Dauntless if our phasers were not 
set for stun. Maybe we could have used our version of 
slipstream drive to get home if you had not ordered 
Lieutenant Torres to mothball it. Maybe we could have used 
Omega as a power source when Lieutenant-Commander Seven 
discovered how to stabilize it. So many maybes, Captain. So 
many could-haves that you nixed."

	"I did that for the safety of my crew, Commander," 
Janeway replied. "Slipstream is very unstable. Fifteen 
minutes and our hull would buckle."

	"That's what development is for, Captain," the 
Commander retorted. "We had an imperfect replica. Wouldn't 
you expect imperfect results?"

	"I did not want to put the lives of my crew in 
jeopardy."

	"That is not the point, Captain. This Bulk Cruiser - 
they showed us no harm, aside from several of their crew 
being telepaths. Why did you decide not to negotiate with 
them? They seem perfectly open to it."

	"One of them planted ideas into my head."

	Chakotay's expression was quite sarcastic. "Oh. They 
planted ideas into your head. Did they water them, too?"

	"Commander!" Janeway firmly shouted. "That will be 
enough. We will not negotiate with them."

	"Captain," Chakotay quietly began, "we have been in 
this quadrant for five years now. Do you realize how long 
that is? The crew morale is dropping. The ship is in 
desperate need of repairs. And you keep turning down 
opportunities to get home, left and right. I'll be damned 
if I can't get this ship home faster on my own."

	Before Janeway could say another word, he turned and 
walked out, leaving her to stew in silence.

	"Computer, replay recording two," she finally 
ordered.

	"I am a Jedi Master," the recording began. "As are 
the other five Jedi aboard this vessel." An audible sigh 
could be heard. "We are members of an ancient order, the 
Jedi. Originally we were scholars, interested in debating 
moral matters.

	"Then, untold thousands of years later, we 
encountered a race that introduced us to the Force. We 
learned what it was and how to use it. Then, we truly 
became powerful. Our numbers swelled into the hundreds of 
thousands. We were feared by criminals, lauded by the just.

	"Our influence spread throughout the galaxy. When the 
Republic was founded so many thousands of years ago, we 
became an essential part of it. We were the diplomats of 
choice, the preferred mediators of arguments."

	"Lauded by the just," Janeway whispered to herself. 
"The diplomats of choice."

	Then, even quieter, she added, "Maybe Chakotay was 
right, after all."


	* * *


	"How rude of them," E-4PO observed in a corridor on 
the Bulk Cruiser, "to leave without saying goodbye."

	C'baoth flexed his shoulders in an attempt to loosen 
his tense muscles. "Some societies have a marked distaste 
for telepaths."

	"Quite true, Master C'baoth. According to my 
database, there are over four hundred thousand and sixty-
three species who shun telepaths as a whole."

	"Yes, I am aware of it," C'baoth grumbled. "And there 
are probably another hundred thousand civilizations that 
detest droids."

	"Sir, you are not suggesting-"

	"No, Fourpio, I'm not. Right now I want to know if 
the dialect they spoke is related to anything you know."

	"Well, Sir, the dialect they speak is known as 
'English.' Its heritage is of several other dialects, most 
notably an amalgamation of 'Germanic' dialects, plus 
'Latin' and 'Greek.' Comparisons reveal that 'Greek' is 
most similar in form to an ancient form of Basic used in 
the Corellian System, informally called Old Corellian."

	"How long ago was that dialect used?" C'baoth 
inquired.

	"The last known record of it was from approximately 
several thousand years before the formation of the 
Republic."

	"That's interesting," C'baoth admitted. "Maybe the 
early Corellian hyperspace explorers found their way to 
this galaxy."

	"A possibility, Sir, although information stored in 
my database speculates that an unknown species brought 
hyperspace technology to Corellia quite close to the time 
this dialect first came into use."

	The Jedi Master paused to open the door to the Mess 
Hall. "I don't know about that," he said while stepping 
through. "Their ship seems pretty slow - seventy years to 
cross the galaxy?"

	The droid cocked its head. "Sir, many battles have 
taken place over the course of time in our galaxy, and it 
would not surprise me if that were the case here. It is 
entirely possible that they lost knowledge of hyperspace as 
a result of one."

	"Right." C'baoth stopped in the food line to take a 
look at the protocol droid. "You seem to have developed 
quite a personality for a droid. When was the last time you 
had a memory wipe?"

	"Just before we left Yaga Minor, Master C'baoth."

	He groaned. "So it's been a bit over sixty years, 
then."

	"Correct, Sir, but why do you ask? According to the 
standard diagnostics, my average performance has increased 
by one hundred fifty percent over that period of time."

	"Nothing," C'baoth said as he shook his head and 
grabbed a tray.


	* * *


	A flustered Chakotay nearly ran into Tuvok as he 
stepped onto the Bridge.

	"Commander, is there a problem with something?"

	The Native American commander turned to regard the 
chief security officer. "Can you bring everyone that was on 
the Away Team, save the Captain, to the Briefing Room?"

	"Certainly, Commander." Tuvok briefly worked his 
console, then turned back. "But again I must inquire what 
is wrong."

	Chakotay sighed. "Come into the Briefing Room and 
I'll explain."

	When they had crossed the nearly deserted Bridge and 
entered the Briefing Room, Chakotay was the first one to 
speak after the door had closed.

	"It's the Captain," he explained. "I just talked with 
her in her Ready Room. What happened while you were on the 
Republic ship? It seems that she broke off negotiations 
because she felt that some of them were telepaths."

	"Then you know more than I," Tuvok said flatly. "I 
was also curious as to why she ended the meeting so 
abruptly."

	"That's all I know, however," Chakotay finally 
admitted. "But from what I saw, I'm beginning to wonder if 
she's mentally incompetent. No doubt you're aware of all 
the strange decisions she's made."

	"Are you then suggesting that she be relieved of 
command?" the Vulcan inquired.

	"No, I'm not," replied the commander. "I'm suggesting 
that the Doctor run some mental tests on her."






 Chapter Three
  =============



	"I'm sorry, Kathryn, but there simply is no way 
around this. I must relieve you of command until you show 
definite signs of improvement."

	Captain Kathryn Janeway forced a sigh as she sat on 
one of the bio-beds in Sickbay. "I still think this is 
completely unnecessary, and somewhat primitive. You want to 
confine me to Sickbay? Why not simply perform treatments 
while I retain my command?"

	"Starfleet Directive 44 specifies that if the captain 
or other officer is declared unfit for his/her position by 
the Chief Medical Officer, the CMO may remove the Captain 
from active service until the point at which the CMO 
declares the Captain fit for service."

	"You know, Doctor, I'm beginning to wish this ship 
had an actual physician."

	"You feel a _mere_ hologram is inferior? No, Captain, 
I understand your facial expressions. A similar situation 
occurred in the late 23rd century, when Doctor Leonard 
McCoy of the USS Enterprise relieved Captain James T. Kirk 
from command due to depression."

	"And if you had researched further, you would know 
that the situation was rectified as the Enterprise 
discovered a new type of Romulan warship," she retorted.

	"Two wrongs do not make a right, Kathryn, no matter 
how you wish to distort history."

	"Enough of your philosophizing. I am perfectly fit to 
command this vessel, and I will be returning to my quarters 
until further notice." With that, she stood up and began to 
walk out of the room.

	"Very well then, Captain. You leave me no choice."

	A forcefield appeared in front of her, instantly 
blocking her exit.

	"Computer, deactivate forcefield," Janeway ordered.

	"Unable to comply," the computer responded. 
"Insufficient security clearance for command."

	"Override security clearances, authorization Janeway 
Delta Five Seven Four."

	"Unable to comply," the computer repeated.

	Kathryn sighed again, letting her shoulders collapse. 
As she was about to turn around, however, movement caught 
her eye, and she instead turned in the direction of the 
movement.

	"Tuvok!" she exclaimed in desperation. "Will you 
please tell the Doctor to release me?"

	"I am sorry, Captain, I cannot. Logic does not allow 
me."

	"Oh, so you're in on this, too," she groused. "I 
suppose the entire command crew has mutinied. Whatever 
happened to your ideas of preventing a Maquis mutiny?"

	"Captain, this has nothing to do with the Maquis. It 
is entirely based on your recent actions. I apologize for 
this, but it was ultimately the decision of the Doctor and 
not my own."

	She looked back and forth between the Doctor and 
Tuvok several times before speaking again. "So indeed, my 
ship has mutinied."

	"Captain, the Starfleet regulations allow for-"

	"Don't tell me what the Starfleet regulations say!" 
Janeway shouted. "I've heard them enough already from our 
resident encyclopedia. Commander, I am ordering you to tell 
the Doctor to release me immediately."

	Tuvok said nothing, watching silently as the Doctor 
appeared behind Janeway and applied a sedative hypospray. 
She collapsed to the deck almost immediately.

	With a saddened expression on his face that was 
unusual for a Vulcan, Tuvok turned and slowly walked away 
from Sickbay.


	* * *


	"Acting Captain's Log, Stardate 52579.9." Chakotay 
turned and cleared his throat before continuing. "This 
entry marks the point at which I assume temporary command 
of the USS Voyager. Relieving Captain Kathryn Janeway was a 
hard decision for me, but one that had to be made. We have 
reversed our course, and are currently five hours from the 
Bulk Cruiser at our speed of Warp 8. I am in the hopes that 
they will accept our apologies; from what I learned from 
the Away Team, they also wanted to cooperate so that they 
might complete their own mission."

	He shut off the recorder, and glanced around the 
bridge. Directly in front of him, Lieutenant Tom Paris was 
at his usual position at the helm. Seven of Nine was 
supposedly at her usual post in Astrometrics--didn't she 
ever sleep?--and other ensigns filled out the rest of the 
Bridge. Tuvok was currently conducting a holodeck training 
simulation for his Hazard Team, and Neelix... well, 
Chakotay could personally not care less as to the 
whereabouts of the Talaxian.

	Slowly, he dozed off, and by the time /Voyager/ 
arrived at its destination he was engaged in a dream about 
how one of Neelix's concoctions took control of Seven of 
Nine's central nervous system and decided to remove Janeway 
from command for no particular reason.

	When an ensign tapped him on the shoulder to wake him 
up, he at first thought that the concoction had broken out 
of Seven, and was attacking him. So it was that when he 
finally woke up, several supernumeraries had their phasers 
trained on him, and the ensign that had attempted to awaken 
him was nursing a rather large black eye.

	"Um... did I hit you?" he asked the injured ensign, 
who nodded in reply.

	"Sorry about that. I must have been dreaming."

	The supernumeraries eyed him nervously, and the 
ensign repeated the information. "We've arrived at the 
Republic ship. They have made no attempts to hail us yet."

	Now fully awake, Chakotay nodded. "Have we attempted 
to hail them?"

	"Yes, Sir, but with no response."

	He frowned. "That's odd... maybe their equipment is 
incompatible. Perhaps we should send a diplomatic team 
over?"

	"Your call, Sir."

	Chakotay paused to consider the issue. "All right 
then. Where's Tuvok?"

	"Still in the Holodeck, sir."

	"All right," he said, pausing at the comm. "Tell 
Lieutenant Paris, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, and 
Lieutenant Commander Seven to meet me in Shuttlebay One," 
he ordered the ensign at the station. Then, he turned and 
strode purposefully to the turbolift.


	* * *


	By the time the /Delta Flyer/'s ramp unfolded in the 
hangar bay of the Bulk Cruiser, Chakotay was not at all 
surprised to see armed soldiers surrounding the exitway. 
Standing behind them was a person in a coarse brown robe, 
which he took to be Master C'baoth.

	Nervously, he stepped forward and extended an arm. 
"Hello." he finally offered. "Commander Chakotay of the USS 
Voyager."

	After some hesitation, Master C'baoth likewise 
stepped forward and shook Chakotay's hand.

	"Where is Captain Janeway?" the Jedi asked casually, 
as if he had been a part of Voyager's crew since they 
entered the Delta Quadrant.

	"She-" The Commander paused for what seemed like an 
eternity, although it was in reality only a matter of 
microseconds. "-did not want to come."

	C'baoth seemed to take it all in stride. "Oh. Well, I 
suppose that's her decision." Then, without pausing, he 
continued. "I suppose you wish to continue the meeting that 
was so forcefully... terminated?"

	"Certainly," Chakotay absentmindedly replied. There 
was simply something about this person that he couldn't 
exactly place... "Where is the diplomatic room?"

	"TC-14?" C'baoth called over the hangar bay, and much 
to Chakotay's surprise a humanoid-shaped, gleaming silver 
android stiffly walked forward. "Show the Voyager crew to 
the meeting room."

	While the droid awaited further orders, the Jedi 
politely  bowed to Chakotay. "Please excuse me while I 
assemble the rest of our own team. You may follow TC-14, 
who will serve as your guide through the ship."

	"Thank you," the Commander automatically replied. 'I 
wonder if Janeway really had something,' he thought to 
himself as the droid set off. Mentally, he shrugged and 
followed the droid, adding, 'But maybe they are our best 
chance of getting home.'

	The protocol droid walked, or perhaps shuffled, out 
of the hangar bay with Chakotay, Tuvok, Paris and Seven in 
pursuit. While Tuvok and Seven had already seen the ship 
before, Paris and Chakotay had not; the former was 
inspecting the walls and construction of the ship while the 
latter was attempting to converse with the android. 
However, the droid proved to be more than conversant.

	"The main conference room is located just forward of 
the bridge, in Sector 8. There are several others identical 
to it, but they have not yet been used. Medical facilities 
occupy most of the habitable portions of Sector 12."

	"Don't you have decks?" Chakotay asked the droid 
after some time.

	"Decks? Well, in places, but most of this ship is 
broken up into a habitable honeycomb structure. This is 
divided into twenty sectors, the first of which are closest 
to the bow and the last of which are closest to the stern."

	"I suppose it helps contain battle damage," the 
commander mused. "Do only the turbolifts connect the 
sectors?"

	"Well, sir, I am only a protocol droid and not 
knowledgeable in such matters. My mission parameters 
contain only data essential to my operation."

	"Right," he agreed, glancing at the disturbingly 
familiar control panel and wondering when the turbolift was 
going to reach its destination.


	By the time the turbolift doors slid open on a 
curving corridor that supposedly led to the conference 
room, Chakotay was beginning to wish that he had brought 
some cotton.

	_The droid just wouldn't shut up._

	Mercifully, the first door on the corridor proved to 
be that of the conference room. Chakotay was relieved to 
see C'baoth and several other people already seated at the 
table.

	"I don't believe we have been introduced yet," 
C'baoth calmly began, motioning toward Paris.

	"Lieutenant Tom Paris, USS Voyager," Paris supplied.

	C'baoth promptly turned to the rest of the crew from 
the Bulk Cruiser, and prompted them.

	"Captain Jonas Avin," the first one, a somewhat short 
man with greying brown hair, started. He expectantly looked 
at the person next to him, who continued.

	"Lieutenant Derek."

	The next person was female of fairly average 
proportions. Her exposed arms, however, seemed to be far 
more muscular than Chakotay would have expected for a 
person shipboard for over sixty years. "You may call me 
Raven," she identified herself, throwing a glance at 
Chakotay, who promptly shifted his gaze to the next person 
in line.

	There were not that many people left, and when it 
came Chakotay's turn to speak he was blunt and to the 
point.

	"You have my sincerest apologies for the abrupt 
termination of our last diplomatic meeting. However," he 
looked over the assembled crew, "without further ado I wish 
to propose an arrangement between our crew and yours."

	"How so?" C'baoth cooly inquired, although he knew 
what was coming next.

	"From what Captain Janeway informed me of, your ship 
is in need of repairs. We can assist with those repairs, 
but in exchange..." His voice trailed off, unsure of how to 
finish the sentence.

	"We tow your ship home," C'baoth finished for him.

	"Yes," Chakotay replied hesitantly. "Is that 
agreeable?"

	"Well, it would seem that was the plan we were to 
follow before your Captain pulled out," the Jedi 
rhetorically said. "She seemed to be wary of treachery on 
our part, and in her position I would be wary also, given 
what you have gone through in the past five years."

	"Well..." the Commander paused to think. 'Am I really 
being that careless?' he wondered to himself. "I suppose 
I'm looking at the situation from the opposite side - sick 
and tired of all the diversions. It seems that every few 
weeks or so we are attacked by some strange race, and it's 
a welcome relief for us to meet a ship crewed by humans 
that don't want to kill us."

	"Are you sure?" C'baoth asked with a slight smile on 
his face. "Can you _really_ trust us?"

	After some thought, the Commander replied. "There are 
risks involved in anything, including waiting. Let's just 
say I'm willing to take my chances with this."

	"Indeed," C'baoth calmly said.

	At once, every commbadge on every person of the 
Voyager team separated and flew to the far end of the 
table. Seven of Nine's hands automatically went to where 
she normally kept her compression rifle, but too late she 
remembered that she had agreed to leave it inside the 
/Delta Flyer/.

	Chakotay was out of his chair in a flash, although he 
was careful not to appear threatening. "What is the meaning 
of this?" he harshly demanded.

	With a flick of C'baoth's hand, the commbadges 
returned to their rightful owners.

	"Mr. Chakotay, you stated yourself that you are 
willing to take chances. I gave a mere demonstration of 
what can be accomplished with the Force. As easily as I 
removed your communications devices, I could have moved 
your starship. Or, were I in less control of my anger, I 
could have killed every one of you before you could even 
comprehend your fate."

	The commander fumbled about, attempting to reattach 
the commbadge as the Jedi Master continued speaking.

	"However, you will understand that I am simply trying 
to be fair to you. I did not organize this mission to 
conquer another galaxy, or subjugate peoples under myself. 
Rather, this was designed to be an exploratory mission; 
some in the Republic wished to know if life existed beyond 
our galaxy. Doubtless this has proven to be the case, and 
so now we negociate."

	"I see," a chastened Chakotay finally said as he sat 
back down.

	C'baoth nodded at Avin and Derek. "I believe our 
captain and engineer are perfectly capable of handling the 
rest of the discussions. I've never been terribly good at 
the technicalities of shipboard operation."

	Silence prevailed as most everyone looked at the 
captain and lieutenant while C'baoth exited. Finally, 
however, Chakotay broke the silence.

	"So what do we do?" he rhetorically asked. "Write a 
contract and begin work?"

	"Unfortunately, it's not so simple," Derek said 
thoughtfully. "If we're to take you in tow, it is much more 
difficult than simply attaching a cable to your ship, as we 
might a small freighter. We have to build a frame that can 
firmly secure your ship, and it must have communications 
and data linkages, plus all the other necessities."

	"Okay," Chakotay said as he held up a hand and cut 
the engineer off. "As long as we can obtain raw materials 
for our replicators, we can assist in the construction of 
the framework. Any other problems?"

	"No, but I have a question." Paris said from his 
seat, looking expectantly at the other people. "How long 
will it take?"

	Nobody answered the question for a long while, 
although Derek uncomfortably looked at the assembled 
personnel.

	"Construction and repairs, or travel?" was his 
eventual question.

	"Travel," Paris replied.

	"I'd think two and a half weeks is a good estimate," 
Derek replied. "Providing you can give us some detailed 
star charts of the area we're to travel through.

	Chakotay stifled a sneeze. "I suppose that can be 
arranged for."

	"Well what about repairs?" Tom continued.

	The engineer sighed. "Anybody's guess is as good as 
mine, which is about one month. Our engine room was damaged 
pretty badly after we hit the black hole, and I don't know 
what I'll do about the destroyed equipment, not to mention 
the hyperdrive motivator."


	* * *


	Kathryn Janeway drummed her fingers restlessly on the 
side of her biobed. Being confined to sickbay was simply 
so... _maddening._

	She drew a LCARS console closer to herself, and 
looked it over. As she did so, she remembered that even the 
famed Captain James T. Kirk had often resorted to 
underhanded tactics in certain situations.

	Several taps of the console brought her out of the 
Sickbay menu and into the ship's main menu. 

	'One time, when Kirk was in training at the Academy, 
he was presented with a test. Nobody before had beaten it, 
as it was designed to be unbeatable.'

	She accessed the crew roster, and proceeded to scan 
it.

	'But he was going to change that. He reprogrammed it 
and made it winnable, and thus passed the test. Only 
afterward did they notice what had happened.'

	'Perfect,' she thought to herself as she noticed one 
of the ensigns' entries. Janeway was about to access it, 
but then she stopped herself and casually looked at her own 
profile.

	KATHRYN JANEWAY
	2334-
	GRADUATED STARFLEET ACADEMY, MAY 2353. MAJORED IN 
	SPACIAL PHYSICS. PROMOTED TO RANK OF ENSIGN, JANUARY
	2354, AND ASSIGNED TO USS STARGAZER UNDER COMMAND OF 
	CAPTAIN RICHARD PARIS. TRANSFERRED TO . . .

	She scrolled down the display, knowing perfectly well 
of her own history.

	PROMOTED TO CAPTAIN, DECEMBER 2368. NOT ASSIGNED ANY
	ANY COMMAND UNTIL 2370, WHEN SHE TOOK COMMAND OF THE 
	INTREPID-CLASS STARSHIP USS VOYAGER. TEMPORARILY 
	RELIEVED OF COMMAND, JUNE 2375 BY ORDERS OF CHIEF 
	MEDICAL OFFICER. 
	CURRENT STATUS: PENDING FURTHER EVALUATION

	Janeway frowned at the display. She had already 
completed several batteries of psychological tests; what 
could this mean?

	She shut the LCARS terminal off, shoved it away, and decided to 
go to sleep. Maybe things would sort themselves out.


Chapter Four
  ============



        "May I inquire as to the source of this information?"

        "Classified, Mr. President," replied the NRI advisor. He was
standing in front of Senate President Borsk Fey'lya's desk, having just
delivered a report in-person.

        The President proceeded to make a pretense of reading through the
report, if just to please the NRI spook. Halfway through, however, something
caught his eye.

        "Bimmiel? I've never heard of it."

        "It's an uninhabited planet within human tolerances between the
Outer Rim and Wild Space. As the report should mention, it was selected as
the site of an archeological dig by the Obroan Institute. Supposedly it
holds Jedi artifacts."

        Fey'lya moved his gaze back up the page. Sure enough, the report
detailed the operations of the Obroan Institute, and how the team on the
planet had lodged several complaints about certain artifacts disappearing;
apparently, the team leader suspected that some Jedi were raiding the site.
Typical.

        "Have you done anything about this yet?"

        "No word has been received from the expedition in nearly a month.
Luke Skywalker already dispatched a team of Jedi to investigate."

        'Convenient,' the Bothan mentally observed. "On the request of
whom?"

        "The Chief of State, apparently. A personal request, since Dr. Joto
Eckels, the administrator of the Obroan Institute, met with her last week."

        'Without the permission of the Council,' Fey'lya added silently.
What he said was different. "Did Dr. Eckels not appear in front of the
Senate some time ago to request assistance?"

        "Correct."

        "If I recall correctly, Major, the Senate voted and issued an
injunction against any interference with archeological matters due to their
sensitive nature." Fey'lya put on his best frown. "She should have known
better. I suppose that means an investigation is in order." He let out the
Bothan equivalent of a sigh, if just for effect.

        "Indeed, Sir," the Intelligence major replied flatly.

        Fey'lya gave another mock sigh, and set the report down. Bothans
were experts at disguising their emotions, and he had little reason to
suspect that the Major knew of his true feelings on the issue. "Thank you,
Major. The report was very informative."

        The NRI major bowed and walked out. Fey'lya promptly grabbed a
handset belonging to the intercom on his desk, and punched in some numbers.

        Several new issues were added to the next Council meeting, among
them the state of affairs on Bimmiel.


        * * *


        Three days later the New Republic Advisory Council was assembled in
its meeting room, in an obscure wing of the former Imperial Palace. It was
certainly not the only meeting room they used; a far more secure chamber was
located nearly ten miles below the planetary surface. However, Fey'lya saw
no need for the security it provided, and the more it was used the higher
the likelihood of its being accidentally found.

        Presently, however, his attention was brought back to the matters at
hand as Leia Organa Solo, one-time Princess of Alderaan and presently Chief
of State of the New Republic, walked into the L-shaped conference room and
took her seat.

        "Sorry I'm late," she informally apologized. "The traffic was
particularly bad going from the Manarai Mountains to Imperial City. Some
drunk pilot crashed his shuttle into a high-rise right beside one of the
main corridors."

        Several other Council members smiled slightly. Coruscant's aerial
traffic snarls were known across the galaxy, rivaled only by those of the
Hutt moon of Nar Shadaa.

        Fey'lya looked around the room, shuffled his flimsiplast scratch
sheets into something resembling order, and finally spoke. "As all members
are now present, I call this council meeting to order. The agenda is
accessible from your terminals."

        He cast a casual glance toward the Chief of State, watching her
unconsciously fidget as she read the agenda. 'Good,' he thought to himself
as another Council member broached the first topic of the meeting. It was
one of the decidedly uninteresting topics that somehow managed to slip
through the cracks in the Senate bureaucracy. Although Fey'lya had read
through all the relevant documents beforehand, he still had to pay cursory
attention for looks. A dispute about nerf farming regulations was not quite
the most interesting topic, but it was better than nothing. 

        The next topic of discussion was concerning the current state of the
New Republic Navy. It was a recurring topic that came up at every meeting,
and the Bothan listened disinterestedly as a military advisor explained how
the lone remaining Executor-class commandship in the Navy, the /Lusankya/,
was being re-commissioned. The advisor droned on for several minutes about
the specific reasons for this decision, which involved the fact that the Mon
Calamari shipyards were currently bogged down in civilian orders. Of course,
that in turn meant that the supply of newer Mon Calamari battlecruisers and
"Star Defender" battleships, was slowed. It was a decent reason at least,
Fey'lya mused.

        Again, the Bothan observed the reactions around the table as the
golden-furred Caamasi senator, Elegos A'kla, stood up to voice his opinion
on the situation. He did not like it, as Fey'lya would expect. Well, the
Bothan did not blame the other senator; most Caamasi who had survived the
destruction of their world held a grudge against any and all things
Imperial. Fey'lya didn't bother to point out that the Base Delta Zero
operation had taken place before the Old Republic became the Empire. After
all, there was no sense in re-opening certain wounds if he didn't have to.

        His eyes briefly settled on those of the Chief of State. For a
fleeting instance, he wondered if she'd used her Force powers to probe what
was in his mind; then he discarded it. Jedi, as much as he disliked them,
were not supposed to do things like that. It was considered an invasion of
privacy.

        But could they?

        Fey'lya raised a furred hand to cover his mouth as if he were
stifling a sneeze. Of course, it served the more important function of
concealing a expression that briefly flickered across his face.

        Another councilor stood up at one part of the table, conveniently
beside Leia. This person countered the Caamasi's points, dragging the
discussion on for ten additional minutes.

        Finally, however, they reached the next-to-last topic: Bimmiel.

        "It has come to my attention," the President began simply, "that
contact has been lost with a research team on the planet Bimmiel. I have
re-considered the previous stance that we took on archeological research,
and so request a discussion as to whether we should send a low-cost team to
investigate. This will, of course, require a Council override of the Senate
decision, so please take time to think it out."

        "A team," Senator A'kla mused. "Special forces? Observers? Jedi?"

        "If it proves necessary," Fey'lya responded amiably, manipulating
his terminal. "This is some data that the NRI delivered today concerning
Bimmiel." He motioned to the conference room's main viewscreen; on every
terminal at the table, copies of the data appeared.

        "Intersting," the Caamasi said to himself. "And we received a
distress signal from their ship?"

        "Last week, in fact," Fey'lya replied. "Which is why I believe we
should act fast on this information." He smiled inwardly as he observed Leia
stiffen ever so slightly.

        Another Council member spoke up. "But if it's a week old, then isn't
it already useless? The Navy should have been immediately dispatched to the
source of the signal."

        Fey'lya gave what might have been a quiet laugh. "Did you not pay
any attention to the Navy advisor? The Navy is retiring some of the early
warships, which is causing gaps due to production issues. We simply don't
have enough warships to respond to every single distress call."

        "Mr. President, I understand that the Navy numbers in the thousands.
Why the shortage then?"

        The Bothan's fur rippled slightly. "Senator, the Old Republic had
over a million member worlds. Although we are not quite that large yet, we
still control a major portion of those member worlds. Several thousand -
even several tens of thousands of ships are simply not enough to go around
almost a million worlds." What he didn't say was that the Republic relied
far more heavily on the independent defense forces of their member planets
than the Empire ever had.

        Fey'lya's voice became softer. "Please, Senator, we are deviating
from the topic at hand. Would anyone like to forward a motion?"

        "I will," Elegos said after some time had passed. "I propose a
motion to send a team of Jedi to Bimmiel and see what became of the
researchers."

        Fey'lya inwardly smiled. The Caamasi was going along exactly as he'd
expected him to. Hardly surprisingly, given the Senator's friendship with
the Jedi Knight, Corran Horn.

        "I second the motion," the Senator that had brought up the Navy
issue said.

        "Very well," the Bothan said. "All in favor of the motion, say yes.
All not in favor, say no."

        Eight Council members said yes; two said no, and, Fey'lya noted, the
Chief of State abstained along with one other Senator.

        "The motion passes." The Bothan now reached to the terminal, and
shortly the Intelligence documents on the main viewscreen were replaced by
the scarred yet still handsome face of Kyp Durron.

        "Jedi Academy," he said absentmindedly, blinking a few times before
he realized who was calling. "Oh, Mr. President! Is there something you want
to know?"

        Borsk Fey'lya turned to the Caamasi senator. "Senator A'kla?"

        "Can I speak with the Jedi Master?" Elegos inquired.

        Kyp frowned briefly. "He's not here at the moment. He put me in
charge temporarily. Is there anything you wanted?"

        "Yes. The Council requests that a team of Jedi investigate Bimmiel.
We lost contact with a group of archeologists there last week."

        Now, Kyp's expression took on a clear look of confusion. "Bimmiel?
Master Skywalker dispatched Corran and Ganner there a couple of days ago."

        "What?" Fey'lya came to his feet, surprise written on his normally
expressionless face. "How could that be if no orders were given?"

        Kyp Durron shrugged. "Beats me. All I know is that Corran said
something was up over there. He packed up and left in a hurry."

        "That means there is a security breach somewhere," the President
commented. "And we must take all security breaches seriously. Mr. Durron, do
you know why they were sent with this information?"

        The Jedi was somewhat complacent about it. "I heard something about
their being authorized by the Chief of State, but I guess I could be wrong.
Why?"

        "The Chief of State..." Fey'lya muttered, slowly turning away from
the viewscreen. At the same time, Leia came to her feet.

        "Mr. President, what is the meaning of this?" she quickly demanded.
Although Kyp couldn't see her, he could certainly hear her, and his
expression took on even more concern.

        "It is simply a matter of national security, Madame Chief of State,"
the Bothan said in a smooth, calm voice. "You breached security in ordering
those Jedi to be sent, as the NRI report was not cleared for the general
public. Likewise, you violated a direct Senate order designed to protect the
archeological community."

        "Wait a moment!" Kyp shouted over the comm. Fey'lya cut him off.

        "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Durron." He shut the viewscreen
down, and turned back to Leia Organa-Solo.

        "An hearing will be held in the Senate tomorrow, I assure you. This
Council meeting is adjourned." He flashed a toothy smile at Leia, and walked
out.

        She let her shoulders collapse, and gritted her teeth. What could
she do?


        * * *


        An hour later, Leia stormed into the Solo apartment near the Manarai
Mountains. Her angry activation of the door switch caused seventeen-year-old
Anakin to stick his head out of his room.

        "Hi, Mom," he cheerfully offered. He'd arrived back from Yavin IV
only the previous week, and was enjoying his brief stay on Coruscant, for
the most part. She almost envied him for that; so carefree, so unconcerned
with the current political situation. "What happened?" he inquired.

        "Don't ask," she spat. "Where's Han?"

        Anakin caught her glare, and decided to trust his mother's advice.
"He left to check the /Falcon/ with Chewie. Should be back in a few hours."

        Leia threw herself into a chair, and undid her hair from its
elaborate braid. She'd never liked Fey'lya, and this entire thing with the
Council seemed somewhat phony. Granted, she had asked her brother about
Bimmiel - but that was only because Dr. Joto Eckels had come to her
personally! How did _that_ constitute a threat to national security?

        'Maybe I should have taken Han's advice and retired from politics
years ago,' she thought. 

        "Mom, I know something's bothering you. What happened?" Anakin was
walking toward the kitchen, _still in his sleeping clothes_, Leia observed.
She wondered if he'd forgotten to dress again because he was programming a
droid. 

        'Oh well.' Maybe it would be good to get the issue off her chest.
"Borsk Fey'lya is trying to impeach me again, apparently. He thinks that I
breached national security."

        "Oh." Anakin looked over the food synthesizer unit, finally tapping
its controls. "That reminds me why I don't want to get into politics."

        "Good choice," she commented, standing up and walking to a mirror on
the other side of the room. Her brown hair was shot through with grey,
doubtlessly because of all the stress of her job. 'And I'm only 44,' she
wondered, turning her head to the side and noting the wrinkles that were
beginning to form on her cheeks. 'I'm too young for this!'

        Another thought hit her. 'You've been spending so much time with
politics that you aren't even paying attention to your family! Now even
Anakin's almost grown up!'

        Leia sighed. Both Jaina and Jacen visited very infrequently  - they
were nineteen, after all, and considered adults by most governments. It was
surprising how fast her children could grow up. "How has everything been at
the Academy?"

        "All right, more or less," her son amiably replied. "The shield
generator was giving us some problems, though. The humidity's likely
damaging some of the circuitry. Oh, that reminds me. I need to pick up some
parts for it before I head back."

        "How's Tahiri?"

        Anakin blushed ever so slightly at the mention of his friend and
fellow Jedi trainee, two years his younger. He'd met her six years ago, when
he first joined the Academy. "She's all right. She was planning to build her
first lightsaber while I'm gone. I don't know how that's going."

        Leia sighed, and walked to the bedroom. A shower would be very nice,
she decided. Maybe it would take her mind off current events.


        * * *


        The following morning, Leia found that her body didn't want to head
to the Senate. She forced herself to get out of bed, however, and listened
quietly to Han's loud snores as she dressed. Once dressed, she padded down
the hallway toward the kitchen and got a hot beverage. It was supposed to
have a lot of caffeine, and she felt that she would need it.

        Leia glanced out toward the balcony adjacent to the main room.
Chewie was there, all right, sleeping in a sort of hammock that he had
strung up. Despite her many visits to Kashyyyk, she never really understood
why Wookiees liked heights so much, or why they preferred to sleep outdoors.

        Slowly, she sipped at the hot beverage, and turned on the HoloNet
receiver to see what was happening. Nothing terribly out of the ordinary-

        "What?" she half-shouted. Outside, Chewbacca jerked in his hammock,
and she heard a loud thump from Anakin's room. He'd probably managed to fall
out of bed.

        The news channel was running a story on _her_!

        "Here to discuss this affair is Senate President Borsk Fey'lya." the
reporter, whose name she couldn't even try to pronounce, said. The holocam
changed its view.

        'What affair?' Leia wondered, watching disgustedly as the Bothan
stepped up to the podium. 

        "Ladies and gentlebeings," he began, "a most distressing matter has
come to my attention. Madame Leia Organa-Solo, our Chief of State, has been
accused of money laundering and racketeering by several corporations. We are
currently investigating the matter, and hope to prevent any sort of
embarrassment to the Senate or the New Republic government. This, of course,
being a serious accusation."

        "You kriffing two-faced bastard!" she shouted at the screen.
Awakened by her voice, Han stumbled into the living room.

        "What's going on, hon? I heard you shouting."

        He froze as Fey'lya responded to a reporter's question.

        "Intelligence is looking into the matter, as I previously said."

        Anakin walked into the room, somewhat bleary-eyed. He also froze
when he saw the screen.

        "Mr. President, we heard from a confidential source that the Chief
of State also has been accused of violating a recent Senate ruling. What do
you know about this?"

        "Very little," Fey'lya stated. "However, the Senate has already
decided to hold a hearing on the matter in two hours. We expect that the
Chief of State will be there to hopefully clear any accusations against
herself."

        Leia swore under her breath as the station went back to their
newsroom.

        "Well, there it is," an anchor commented. "For those of you just
joining us, allegations have been made that the Chief of State has been
quietly laundering money on the side. Such a scandal has never been seen at
such a high level before." The anchor turned to another person beside him.
"I certainly hope that they're false, but all the indications show
otherwise." The other anchor agreed.

        Han shook his head. "I don't believe it."

        Leia downed what was left of her drink and stood up. "Neither do I.
But if Fey'lya wants to crown himself Emperor, I don't really care anymore."
Walking back to the kitchen, she set the mug down. "Because I'm resigning as
soon as I get to the Senate."

        Han Solo, smuggler and one time hero of the Republic, simply stared
at his wife, too stunned to speak.



Chapter Five
  ============  


        Five people strode down a fairly long corridor on the Bulk Cruiser,
talking between themselves as they did so. It was not surprising considering
that one was dressed in the garb of a Jedi, one in the uniform of a Republic
Navy crewman, and the rest in form-fitting Starfleet uniforms. 

        They stopped at a blastdoor, and the Jedi activated a switch to open
it. Its three layers slid apart in a diamond shape, slowly revealing the
room beyond. Many crewmen, both Republic and Federation, walked about,
working or consulting datapads, PADDs, or terminals. A greater number of
droids were scattered about, primarily astromechsalthough there were a few
protocol droids, too.

        "So this is the engine room," Chakotay observed as he took in the
room. He noted the prominent absence of a warp core.

        "Actually, this is only the engine control room," Lieutenant Derek
explained as he stepped around an R4 series astromech droid. "The engine
room actually covers the entire aft section of the ship, if not very deeply.
But the hyperdrive is located here." He pointed to a large, rectangular
block in the center of the room, the white surface of which seemed to be
embossed with a web of interleaving circuitry patterns. Much of the activity
of the crewmen was concentrated around it.

        "Is it powered by a warp core?"

        That only earned him a strange look from the engineer. "Never heard
of one. What is it?"

        "Pardon me," Chakotay apologized, realizing that he was talking to a
person who knew very little of Federation technology. "It's a
matter-antimatter reactor," he supplied. "I'm not particularly sure of its
specifications, but the reaction is controlled with a matrix of dilithium
crystals."

        Derek shivered noticeably, although it had nothing to do with the
temperature of the room  which was, in fact, quite warm. "Some ships have
antimatter reactors, but I've never seen one on a warship yet. Antimatter
engines are another thing, though. Those are our primary propulsion
systems."

        "Our computer identified them as ion engines."

        The engineer shrugged. "They work on a similar principle. It's
pretty easy to misidentify them when they're shut down, but when they're
running they produce a hell of a lot of high-energy radiation." 

        A loud _clang_ echoed across the room, catching his attention. Derek
spun around, in time to notice two workers drop a panel and run.

        "The kriff-" he started before noticing a swarm of small, almost
invisible black creatures begin crawling out of the wall. He briefly
laughed. "R4, get over there and spray those critters before the crew has a
heart attack."

        The droid obediently trundled over, and began spraying the arachnids
with fire-retardent foam. In the meantime, the engineer turned back to the
group. "Anything else you wanted to see?" he asked, almost as if he was used
to having arachnid nests disturbed all the time. Chakotay briefly wondered
if he was.

        "Whatever you want to show us next," Seven stated as she watched the
crew walk about, tending to various tasks that needed to be completed.



        Elsewhere, Captain Kathryn Janeway rolled over on her biobed as if
she had just awoken, and looked at the time. She nodded, propped herself up
on one elbow, and looked around the Sickbay. It was empty, which was to be
expected considering that they had not been attacked by anybody. 

        This was a routine she had rehearsed for nearly a month now, since
they had confined her to Sickbay in the first place. And as far as she was
concerned, it was insanely simple. 

        She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, and dragged an LCARS
console toward herself. Switching it on, she accessed the crew roster and
glanced at her own profile. No changes had been made to it.

        Her next step was to access a section of the computer that seemed
completely innocuous and did not appear to be connected to anything. While
she was working her way thought a particular sequence of commands, however,
her thumb slipped and activated the wrong thing.

        The LCARS terminal beeped, the same volume as it had for all of her
commands. However, to her the beep seemed to echo throughout Sickbay. She
grimaced at the error, and focused even harder on the console.

        The sequence was entered once again, more carefully this time. It
took a bit more time, but as long as nobody called Sickbay for advice from
the Doctor, she was perfectly fine. Finally, she smiled at her work: the
LCARS terminal now displayed a detailed list of options. After looking the
options over, she selected one and waited.

        It worked perfectly.

        Her genetic profile was now associated with that of a non-existant
ensign.

        Janeway let out a deep sigh, one that sounded as if it had been pent
up for several weeks, and perhaps it was. It didn't really matter; she stood
up and stretched, listening to the joints in her spine crack. Then she
walked toward the exit.

        Or at least tried to.

        Am all-too-familiar voice behind her spoke. "Are you perhaps going
somewhere, Captain?"



        "I think that we've just about covered everything in here,"
Lieutenant Derek remarked somewhat tiredly as the group walked back to the
front of the control room. He glanced at Seven, absentmindedly admiring her
curvaceous figure while he attempted to converse with another Federation
crewmember. He'd never been able to figure out how he could hold two
conversations at once. "Besides, I don't think I need to watch them anymore.
Did one of you want to head out and take a look at the work on the
framework?"

        "That would be pleasant," Chakotay replied with a hint of boredom.
Derek didn't blame him; listening to technical specifications for alien
equipment tended to confuse most laymen.

        "All right," he said, throwing another glance at Seven, "I guess
we'll head for the hangar bay." The engineer tapped the controls on the
door, which slid open with a quiet hiss, and walked down the corridor toward
the turbolift shaft.



        Janeway spun around in reaction to the Doctor's sudden appearance.

        "Captain," his voice took on a note of annoyance, "I did give
specific orders that you were to remain here until I released you from my
care."

        Janeway dove to the floor as the Doctor suddenly brought a sedative
hypospray toward her. As she did so, her elbow slammed into the hard surface
of the deck, causing her to grimace in pain; she tried her best to ignore
it, stretching out her heel to trip the Doctor.

        He went down briefly, but as soon as she had come to her feet so had
he. The two combatants faced off over a biobed, one holding a hypospray and
the other unarmed.

        Again, the Doctor lunged at her. She dove out of his way again,
belatedly realizing that she had managed to get her computer permissions
back.

        "Computer, end program."

        The Doctor disappeared, and promptly she began running toward the
exit...

        Only to have him re-appear in front of her path.

        "Computer-" This time, he did not allow her to complete her sentence
as he advanced, still holding the hypospray. She backed up, tripping over a
biobed in the process. The Doctor brought his hypospray closer.

        "End program!"

        The Doctor didn't pause before he spoke. "I have isolated myself
from the main computer, Captain."

        "Thanks for telling me," she sarcastically retorted. "Computer-"

        Janeway cut her sentence short and rolled sideways as the Doctor
forcefully thrust his hypospray toward her again. She came up on the far
side of another biobed, half-crouched and tense with anticipation.

        "Cut all-"

        He again thrust the hypospray toward her. This time, she grabbed his
wrist and thrust it away from herself. She heard the distinctive hissing as
he activated it, but thankfully the drug only went into the air.

        "-power to-"

        She dodged another thrust with the hypospray, madly looking around
Sickbay to see if there was something that she could use as a weapon. Her
quick search only turned up several pillows.

        "-Sickbay!" she finished. The lights promptly went out, but she
could still see the Doctor, who faintly glowed in the absence of light.

        "Damn," she cursed. She'd forgotten about his mobile emitter. But
there was no time to contemplate her mistake, as she observed the Doctor
come at her again. She grabbed a nearby pillow and flung it the approaching
hologram, momentarily stopping him as he ducked below the polyester
projectile. She started running in the darkened Sickbay-

        -and ran straight into a medical cart, which fell over, scattering
instruments all over the floor. She came back to her feet once more only to
trip on the fallen cart.

        The Doctor continued his pace toward her, the ever-present hypospray
still in his hand. "Captain, may I suggest you return to your unit before
you inflict further harm on yourself? It is difficult enough handling a
psychological emergency."

        Kathryn ignored his cautions. She picked up the medical cart with as
much effort as she could muster, spun around as fast as was possible, and
hit the Doctor broadside. As he fell backward from the impact, she dashed
out of the Sickbay.



        The hangar bay was, unsurprisingly, bustling with activity as the
the five people stepped out of the turbolift. 

        "All right, who's in charge here?" Derek half-shouted over the din
of chittering astromechs and fusion welders. A mechanic, jumpsuit stained
with various lubricants, stepped up.

        "I am, Sir. Lieutenant Ricow, Sir."

        Derek glanced at the other man's insignia to confirm the statement.
"Relax, Lieutenant. We're the same rank." The engineer paused when he saw
several heavy-lift droids carting a hyperdrive unit out of one shuttle, and
several others bringing in something that marginally resembled a cross
between a fishbowl and a blender, depending on the observer's perspective.
Other droids were busy modifying the "outriggers" on the Cygnus Spaceworks
shuttle.

        "Something wrong?" the other lieutenant queried as he noticed
Derek's stare.

        "What the heck are they doing to that shuttle?"

        "An experiment, Lieutenant. We're fitting something called a 'warp
drive' to it. Commander Chakotay and Master C'baoth authorized it."

        Derek questioningly turned to Chakotay. "Sir?"

        The Commander slowly nodded. "Yes, I did give my consent."

        He spun about again, somewhat unsure of the current situation. "We
need a shuttle, Ricow. Is the other one working?"

        "It should be, although we haven't completely checked it."

        Derek nodded. "All right. Get us cleared for liftoff."



        The Doctor snapped back up in time to see Janeway exit the Sickbay.
He briefly calculated the outcomes of pursuing his patient, but decided
against it. Although a medical cart could not do him any real damage due to
his nature as a hologram, it was terribly annoying  and he calculated that
the risk of damage to his mobile emitter was too high, despite its
protective, high-density armor.

        Besides, he was a doctor, not a soldier. He walked over to a comm
unit, and activated it.



        Janeway was stepping into a turbolift just as the Doctor's
announcement came over Voyager's communications system.

        "Attention all personnel. This is the Chief Medical Officer
speaking. Former Captain Kathryn Janeway, a potentially dangerous patient,
has escaped Sickbay after attacking me. Please stun and bring her back here
intact if possible."

        She cursed silently and hit the control panel rather than using
voice commands. The doors slid shut, blocking off the view of the corridor
beyond, and there was the briefest of sensations as the pod began moving. It
seemed like only several seconds had passed before the doors opened again.
She cautiously and quietly stepped into the corridor, walking down it as
softly as possible toward the door at the far end. Again, Janeway worked the
control panel, and was rewarded as it slid open in response to her
thumbprint. 

        Kathryn stepped into the shuttlebay, and looked over the one shuttle
that was left after the five years she'd spent traveling through the Delta
Quadrant. 

        The /Delta Flyer/.

        Ever so cautiously, she walked forward to the shuttle, watching for
crewmen. Strangely enough, nobody was present, which caused her to wonder
even more about the situation. Despite all the times Voyager's shuttles had
been hijacked, there typically was a shuttlebay crew present. Yet now there
was none.

        She continued to the rear of the Delta Flyer, opening its main hatch
and jumping inside, then closing it after her. Next, Janeway walked forward
to the cockpit, looked over the controls, and made her decision.

        She would take the Delta Flyer out, figure out what was happening,
then continue to the Bulk Cruiser and try to warn Chakotay about the
situation, try to make him break off whatever he'd started. All thoughts
she'd had about the Jedi were discarded; the only thing she now cared about
was the way that C'baoth had planted ideas into her head.

        She shook it and blinked. What was she thinking? A shuttle was
nearly defenseless... but then again, this was no ordinary shuttle, she
concluded as some crewmen finally stepped into the shuttlebay.

        Taking a deep breath, she started to bring the shuttle's systems
online.



        "I'll take the controls," Master Dellen supplied as Derek stared
uneasily at the cockpit. 

        "Thanks," the engineer acknowledged, stepping away to let the Jedi
pass. He wasn't much of a pilot, although he could fly a ship in a pinch; it
wasn't something he was too proud of. The first time he'd taken the controls
of a ship, it was a shuttle similar the one he was aboard now, and five
minutes later he'd managed to crash it. Well, it wasn't completely his
fault; a flock of birds had run into him (or vice versa), jamming up the
engines and catching themselves on the control surfaces. Several had run
into the viewport, obscuring any chance of a view. He didn't remember much
beyond that other than the fact that he'd crashed, nor did he want to
remember. It was a miracle he'd made it out alive at all.

        Dellen, however, was anything if not calm and collected. He
confidently manipulated the shuttle's controls, and without a bump the
shuttle lifted off the deck of the Bulk Cruiser's hangar on its
repulsorlifts. As soon as the shuttle cleared the hangar, the Jedi then
fired the maneuvering thrusters to aim the engines clear, and lit the
sublight engines.

        The other three people crowded into the cockpit, and Paris slipped
into the copilot's seat beside Dellen without asking. He didn't take the
controls, however; instead, he simply looked over the displays.

        "Do you fly?" Dellen asked when he noticed Paris' inspection of the
console.

        "As a matter of fact, yes. I was one of the best pilots at the
Academy."

        A smile started to crack Dellen's face, and he shoved down hard on
the stick. The shuttle instantly responded with  a burst of power, which
sent it hurtling back toward the mostly-completed framework that connected
/Voyager/ and the /Ny'lith Boro/. Behind Seven and Chakotay, Derek tightly
gripped the padded entryway and closed his eyes.

        "I think I get the point," Paris said through gritted teeth as
Dellen pulled up bare meters from the framework, then threw the shuttle
through a series of stomach-wrenching twists and turns as he slalomed
through some exposed girders. "I also think the Commander didn't want to
inspect the framework /this/ closely!"

        He glanced over at the Jedi, and recoiled in shock when he saw that
his eyes were closed. But the shuttle leveled out and slowed slightly, and
Paris breathed a sigh of relief.



        Janeway wrapped her hand around the /Delta Flyer/'s joystick,
somewhat uncomfortable with the feel of itafter all, most shuttles were
controlled by touchpadsand pulled back. The modified Type-11 lifted off the
shuttlebay deck, much to the astonishment of the crew.

        "Computer, open the shuttlebay doors."

        "Unable to comply. Biological forms detected in shuttlebay.
Decompression will result in death."

        The captain gritted her teeth. She didn't want to kill any of her
crew, but she also wanted to get out. A new thought came to her... although
it had never been tried before. She shuddered briefly before she gave the
order; what if it went wrong?

        "Computer, activate cargo transporters one through five. Beam the
/Delta Flyer/ out of the shuttlebay."

        Her stomach twisted slightly as the less refined cargo transporters,
which were never intended to be used for what she wanted, took hold of her
and the shuttle. Moments later, the view of Voyager's shuttlebay was
replaced with a view of the aft section of the ship.

        She gasped at what she saw next. Not only was she aft of /Voyager/-
she was in front of the Bulk Cruiser!

        "/Delta Flyer/, this is /Voyager/. You have launched without
authorization. Return to the ship at once."

        Janeway ignored the warning. She could already see that the shuttle
was out of range of the Intrepid-class starship's phaser strips, thanks to a
framework of some sort that connected it, backward and upside-down, to the
alien Bulk Cruiser. Quickly, she took the controls of the shuttle and moved
it forward, looking the situation over as she did so.

        She wondered exactly where the Bulk Cruiser's hangar was. Although
they'd beamed over to it, she never really had a good idea... Now she
rememberedit was on the port side of the ship. Janeway made the necessary
alterations to her flight path...

        Only to find another shuttle coming at her, directly in her path.
She had no time to do anything before the computer automatically took over,
diverting the shuttle's course to prevent a collision.



        "What in the blazes?" Dellen exclaimed as the Delta Flyer suddenly
appeared in front of them. He pulled back on the controls to avoid a
collision, noting that the other shuttle was diverting its course likewise.

        Paris froze for a moment with his jaw open before he was able to
recollect himself and respond. "That's the Delta Flyer... /that's my ship!/"

        "Your ship?" Dellen shot back as he steered the Cygnus shuttle clear
of a large girder.

        "I built it, and someone's taking it!"

        Dellen threw Paris a slightly confused glance. "Are you sure that
it's not just ferrying someone over?"

        "No, because I'm really the only one who knows how to handle it. And
if that person so much as scratches the paint..."

        "What paint?" Dellen asked with a grin on his face; the only paint
on the shuttle was that of its name and its registry of NCC-74656. They both
chuckled for several seconds before Paris became more serious.

        "Hail it. I'd like to see who stole my shuttle."

        Dellen reached up to an overhead control panel and flipped several
switches, then frowned. "It's not broadcasting any IFF, and I can't open a
channel."

        Before Paris could open his mouth, Seven spoke up from her location
in the back of the cockpit. "The communications systems are likely
incompatible."

        "I'd just about figured that out myself," the Jedi sarcastically
responded as he continued to follow the /Delta Flyer/. "Any suggestions?"

        Seven shook her head. "No, since I have little knowledge of your
equipment."

        He nodded. "Perfect. Derek, maybe you can explain our equipment to
her and come up with a solution."

        Beside him, Paris' face turned white. "Dellen... it's heading for
the asteroid belt."

        Dellen turned his head around to look, and subconsciously confirmed
that the Delta Flyer was heading for the system's asteroid belt. His brain
briefly told him that the /Ny'lith Boro/ had moved closer to the belt so it
could tractor some asteroids in for Voyager to refine and build the frame
out of, but the thought was irrelevant and promptly discarded.

        "Can you do anything to stop it?"

        "Not really," the Jedi replied quickly. "I could try a tractor beam,
but that ship's almost the size of this one. It would just pull us with it."

        "So what are we going to do?" Paris asked somewhat desperately.

        "Follow it." Dellen flipped several more switches, and a green
indicator on the control panel came to life. "Shields are up. We're going
in."

        Despite his experience as a pilot, Paris was sweating profusely as
micrometeroids began to pepper the shuttle. It reminded him of flying
through a hailstorm in an airskipper, as he had done several times in his
younger, more reckless, days. He reached up to wipe some sweat off his brow,
and gasped as a new scene presented itself.



        "Warning. You are entering an asteroid field. The odds of
destruction are greatly increased."

        "Shut up," Janeway told the computer. It complied, thankfully. The
less distractions she had, the better; now, she concentrated on shaking the
other shuttle that had pasted itself to her tail. Absentmindedly, she
wondered why they didn't try to attack her.

        She pushed down on the control stick, watching the old-fashioned
attitude dials spin around like crazy, and looped around a large,
slow-moving asteroid. For a brief second, she thought that she had shaken
the other shuttle, but it immediately imitated her move and was back in
pursuit.



        Master Dellen threw the Cygnus Spaceworks shuttle through a series
of twists and turns that, had it not been for the alluvial dampers, would
have made everyone aboard pass out. As it was, several of the passengers
were close to losing it. He heard some noise come from the refresher
compartment; the engineer was likely relieving his stomach.

        "Watch it," Paris warned beside him as a fairly large asteroid spun
into their path. The Jedi was turning the ship almost before the words came
out of his mouth; in front of them, the Delta Flyer vanished from view
behind another large asteroid. "They went that way."

        "So I saw," Dellen responded tersely as he dove under the new
asteroid. He quietly thanked the Force that this was a relatively quiet
field, unlike some fields he'd seen. Still, it was not without its
dangersdangers which, he observed, were /very/ much present.

        A fairly small rock slammed into the side of the ship, and he heard
a person groan somewhere in the aft compartment. The shield indicator
briefly flickered with red, then went back to a yellow-green as it
recharged. The Jedi paid only cursory attention to the indicator,
concentrating on weaving a path through the belt behind the /Delta Flyer/.



        Janeway glanced down at the controls, then back to the asteroid
field. "Computer, what is the shield strength on that shuttle?"

        "Fifty-seven percent," the computer replied as cheerfully as it
might announce the brewing of a cup of coffee. With that thought, Janeway
wished that she did have some coffee; she was getting rather tired.

        "Is it weak enough to beam through?"

        "There is a 50% chance of transport success," the computer
responded.

        "Establish a transporter lock on it, and beam me off if there is
significant risk of my destruction." She briefly wondered if Paris was
piloting the pursuing shuttle; whoever it was was a far better pilot than
herself. But she pushed the thoughts aside, and continued to focus on
piloting the shuttle through. Subconsciously, her brain continued to wonder
at the sanity of escaping in a lightly armed shuttlecraft rather than
attempting to negociate.

        She looked up, and her mouth seemed to drop of its own accord. An
asteroid, the size of a small transport, was heading directly toward the
/Delta Flyer/ - and she had no way of turning that would not damage or
destroy the shuttle.

        "Computer, /initiate transport sequence!/"



        Dellen shook his head. "That's crazy," he commented. "Those
asteroids are going to moveyeah, there they go."

        Paris stared at the shuttle in front of them in disbelief. "Are you
sure?"

        "She's not going to get out of that situation in one piece."

        As if he had predicted it, the paths of several other asteroids
formed a sort of tunnel, at the center of which was the /Delta Flyer/ -
which was heading directly toward a large asteroid with nowhere to go.

        "Holy-" Tom Paris cut himself off as he heard the distinctive whine
of a transporter beam from behind. He turned his attention back to the
viewport, however, unable to take his eyes off the shuttle he'd built.
"Shit."

        The /Delta Flyer/ crashed nose-first into the asteroid, splintering
the tough carbonaceous rock into millions of insignificant pieces before the
shuttle's antimatter tanks ruptured. The ensuing explosion blossomed out,
engulfing hundreds of nearby asteroids in gamma rays and superheated plasma.
The Cygnus Spaceworks shuttle bucked slightly as it ran into the shockwave,
and Paris saw, out of the corner of his eye, the shield indicators briefly
flash red again.

        He swore under his breath as he watched the explosion dissipate.
"I'm going to kill whoever did that, if they're not already dead."

        "You were saying?" Chakotay rhetorically asked as he walked up to
the cockpit, holding one of Captain Kathryn Janeway's arms while Seven held
her other arm.

        Paris turned around, and his jaw automatically dropped. "/Kathryn/?"


A Prologue to War
 Chapter Six
 =================

        Ryaspi Fernas, Jedi Master and assigned navigator of the Outbound
Flight Project, strode into a conference room aboard the /Ny'lith Boro/ with
what might have been called an air of slight annoyance. He scanned the room,
noting in his glance the ebony-black conference table and the several
datapads that were resting on its slick surface, the other five Jedi Masters
that were gathered around the table, and several droids that were scattered
about. Ignoring the droids, he pulled a seat from the table and sat down.
        "You're late," Master C'baoth observed as he shooed several MSE
droids out with a wave of his hand. They skittered out of the door,
scattering into the corridor outside in search of dust particles.
        "I know," Fernas answered, glancing at the datapad before him. He
noted absently what the topic of the meeting was before turning his
attention back to the other Jedi. "I got delayed down in the engine room.
The navicomputer is a complete mess."
        C'baoth raised his eyebrow slightly. "I thought you said it was
repairable?"
        "If you didn't fly this ship through a black hole, yes, maybe it
would be," Fernas retorted. "But you did, and here we are in another galaxy,
with a wrecked hyperdrive motivator and no star charts. Brilliant,
absolutely brilliant."
        The other Jedi ignored his sarcasm. "You didn't answer my question.
Can it be fixed or not?"
        He nodded. "Fixed, no problem. Derek and those left of the engine
room crew have already replaced the motivator--at least we had a spare. But
all the presets are lost, as are the star charts. Not to mention that it'll
take forever to run jump calculations from here because of that convenient
black hole."
        "So what would you suggest we do, Master?" Dellen inquired, sitting
across the table from C'baoth. "Have we considered sending a shuttle back
through the wormhole?"
        "That would be pointless," C'baoth responded. "We need to have
everyone stay with the Project until we can find another spacefaring race."
        "We have two shuttles."
        "Exactly my point," he continued. "If we lose even one shuttle, we
will not have a backup. And as I mentioned before, we need everything we can
get."
        "All right," Dellen admitted, somewhat crestfallen. "What will we do
in the meantime, then?"
        Fernas checked his datapad. "We've located a star system
approximately forty light-years away that we can cruise to at sublight
speeds. It'll take a long time, I admit, but it's out best choice of the
bunch."
        "A long time?" Dellen asked somewhat incredulously. "You're talking
about drifting for nearly... what, seventy years?"
        "I did say it would take a long time." Fernas pushed his seat away
from the table slightly and leaned back. "But without a working hyperdrive,
what other choice do we have? At least we know that the system has four
planets, so maybe one of them has life."
        "Seventy years is still a long time," Dellen repeated. "Then there's
always the chance that the system is barren, like so many others."
        "Oh, stop being so pessimistic, Dellen," Ryaspi commented with a
hint of a smile. "The time depends on the speed we can reach with what fuel
we have. If we have enough to accelerate to at least sixty percent of
lightspeed, time will dilate somewhat. It'll seem like maybe two or three
years at most. We might not even have to use the carbon freeze chambers."
        "Enough." C'baoth raised his hand, halting the discussion. "We must
decide what we're going to do. I agree with Master Fernas that we should
travel to that nearby star system. What are the opinions of everyone else?"
        "I'll go along with it," Dellen said after an uncomfortable moment
had passed.
        "Three," C'baoth stated, turning toward the other three Jedi
Masters. "And you?" Eventually, they all agreed. 
        "I have just one question," Dellen finally said. "If we go into
carbon freeze, who will stay behind to monitor the ship?"
        "One of us can do it," Ryaspi answered, "although the slave circuit
system is up to the task."
        "Like the /Katana/ fleet's was?" Dellen asked, alluding to the
strange disappearance of the Dark Force, a fleet composed of two hundred new
Rendili Dreadnaughts. The memory still hung fresh in many of their minds.
        Fernas sighed. "Of course not. That's also why we have several
thousand droids aboard, and they're not slaved to the ship."
        "I'm still not so sure about this," the other Jedi finally
commented, looking at C'baoth. A ripple seemed to go through the room as he
did so, and for a brief instance Fernas thought he could see C'baoth's face
contorting in anger.
        "Enough!" the Jedi Master finally roared, standing up. The air
seemed to crackle around his outstretched fingertips. "None of you will
travel to that system, then!" 
        Fernas hurriedly backed away from the table as C'baoth seemed to
grow in stature, towering over Dellen, who was by far the tallest of the
bunch. By now the air was almost electrified, and Fernas' hair was nearly
standing on end.
        He was about to hit the door controls when it happened. As if a
thunderstorm had suddenly appeared inside the room, crackling bolts of blue
energy suddenly burst from C'baoth's hands, coursing into the table, some
nearby droids, and the five other Jedi. They were unprepared for it, but
instinctively Dellen grabbed his lightsabre and started to draw it.
        C'baoth saw it, of course. There was no doubting that; instantly, a
stunning barrage of energy coursed through the air toward Dellen. It hit his
right hand just as he was about to ignite the blade of his energy sword, and
he dropped it with a howl, clutching his smoking hand.
        Fernas attempted to take advantage of the brief lapse in the bolts
to hit the alarm switch, open the door, and draw his own sabre. He was only
able to accomplish the first task when a new cascade of energy hit his back.
Spots began to form before his eyes--
        The Jedi Master froze, waiting for the final blast that never came.
He opened his eyes, and was somewhat startled not to see the conference room
and an enraged C'baoth, but the navicomputer and the entire crew of the
engine room. They were, in fact, standing in a circle around him and
staring.
        Noticing his confused look, the leading person decided to speak. "Do
you need anything?"
        "Not really," the Jedi eventually said, attempting to figure out
what his strange vision really meant. It was a recollection of the past, he
was certain; but the whole thing at the end was confusing. "I'm fine,
thanks. But I think I'll just head to my quarters for a brief rest, just in
case."


        "Kathryn, just what the hell were you doing taking the /Delta Flyer/
into an asteroid field?" Paris harshly demanded, using her first name
without realizing it, as Dellen continued flying toward the /Ny'lith Boro/. 
        She dropped her head. "I shouldn't have done it," Janeway admitted
with a sigh. "But I wanted to reach the Republic ship and warn you."
        "Warn us?" the lieutenant inquired, his angry expression changing to
one of shock. "Of what?"
        She looked directly at him. "I still fear that we're in danger by
allying ourselves with them, although I have changed my mind several times."
        "In danger?" Paris' eyes bulged so much that Janeway idly wondered
if they might fall out of their sockets. "You're the one who got us in
danger by going into the asteroid field in the first place! These people
have helped us, provided us with a means to get home, fed uswhat more could
you ask of them?"
        "That's the problem," she responded. "It's just like what happened
with the /Dauntless/."
        "With a major difference," Paris retorted sharply. "It's not just
one person."
        "Stop shouting," a voice moaned from the back of the shuttle.
"You're giving me a headache." Janeway turned to see Lieutenant Derek
sitting at the back, holding his head between his hands.
        Chakotay gestured to the Republic lieutenant. "I know we discussed
this before, Captain, but there's your difference. The /Ny'lith Boro/
carries a crew of over two hundredlarger than our ownand several hundred,
if not thousand, more androids like the ones you saw when you first beamed
over. Now think this out, Captain: how difficult would it be to conceal a
conspiracy among that many people?"
        "Too difficult," Janeway finally admitted as she looked around
herself for a place to sit. Failing to find anything, she sat down on the
deck and crossed her arms. "Forgive me, Commander. That was rather stupid of
me." She disentangled her arms and rested her head on one hand, only to feel
a sticky sensation on her chin. Quickly, she pulled her hand off and looked
at it; it was stained with blood. 
        "You're bleeding, Captain."
        She grimaced. "Scratches, really. I must have scraped myself when I
was in Sickbay."
        Chakotay smiled and let out a quiet chuckle. "I never thought I'd
hear someone say that they were injured while in Sickbay."
        They felt the faintest of sensations as the shuttle gently landed on
the hangar deck. Clicking and hissing could be heard as the engines cooled
down, and within a minute Dellen walked back from the cockpit. He glanced
briefly at everyone's faces.
        "Am I interrupting anything?"
        "No," Janeway admitted with a smile. "Not really."
        He glanced around again somewhat uncomfortably, finally noticing the
red stain on her hand. "I think we need to get you to Medical," Dellen
eventually said matter-of-factly. As they stood up to exit the shuttle,
however, his com-link apparently chose that moment to beep. The Jedi looked
down at it as if deciding whether to answer it or not. He finally chose the
former.
        "Dellen here."
        "This is Master Fernas," a voice said loudly enough for everyone in
the shuttle to hear. "I need to talk with you in the mess hall as soon as
possible."
        The Jedi thumbed the com-link to transmit. "Acknowledged. I'll be
there, but I have to take Voyager's captain to Medical first."
        There was a brief moment of silence, which seemed like an eternity,
on the other end. "I copy, Master Dellen."
        For the briefest of instants, Janeway's doubt crossed her face, but
she quickly covered it up as she came to her feet. "All right," she began,
"let's go."

        * * *

        By the time Dellen arrived in the mess hall, Fernas was mostly
finished eating. He didn't bother guessing as to the identity of the food,
although what looked like the remains of sauteed brukalli lay across one
part of the plate.
        As he stood staring at the plate, Fernas motioned for the other Jedi
to take a seat across from him. "You hungry?"
        "Somewhat," he admitted as his stomach growled sharply. "Want to
hear a really strange story?"
        "Go ahead."
        Dellen leaned back in the stiff chair, glanced at the other Jedi's
plate hungrily, and started. "You might recall how I was giving Voyager's
commander a little tour of the ship." When Fernas nodded, he continued.
"Well, we finished ahead of time, and there really was not anything else to
do, so Chakotay wanted to have a look at the framework. I obliged, and we
took a shuttle out."
        "Hardly anything strange about that," the other Jedi observed in a
monotone.
        "There's more. While we were out, I nearly ran into one of Voyager's
shuttles."
        "They only have one left, you know," Fernas pointed out, causing
Dellen to blink in surprise before continuing.
        "That's... nice," he finally said. "After we nearly ran into their
shuttle, for some odd reason it just turned and ran. Lieutenant Paris asked
me to chase it--he said that it wasn't supposed to be flying--so I did,
right into the system's asteroid belt."
        "Sounds like whoever did that was either stupid or insane," the
other Jedi Master observed.
        "Who are you kidding? That's not the end of it, by any means. The
pilot managed to get herself trapped, and the shuttle was destroyed. She..."
He faltered, thinking for the right word. "... beamed off just before
destruction, apparently."
        "Who was the pilot?"
        "This is the unbelievable part."
        "Who?" Fernas repeated.
        "Captain Kathryn Janeway."
        Fernas' jaw dropped by a fraction of an inch in what passed for
shock. "You're right." He shook his head. "Incredible. So what did you do
with her?"
        "She was slightly injured, so I had Lieutenant Derek and a few
security people take her down to Medical."
        "You didn't have her placed in detention for that?"
        Dellen looked at him strangely. "No. I didn't think it was really
necessary, and besides, she didn't harm any of our crew. Remember, she's
from a different ship and a different government. It's up to the Federation
personnel to decide what to do with her."
        Fernas shrugged. "Your call, I suppose. Anyway, this isn't what I
really wanted to talk about."
        "What did you want to talk about?"
        "Are you willing," Fernas moved his face closer to that of the other
Jedi, resting his chin on elevated hands, "to take a shuttle and head back
through the wormhole?"
        He frowned. "Didn't we have a discussion over that when we first
came through?"
        Fernas nodded. "We did. But Master C'baoth never said one thing."
        "Which is?"
        "That the Outbound Flight, no matter how successful it is in finding
and enlightening a civilization, is ultimately a failure if no word goes
back to the Republic."
        He contemplated what the other Jedi had said. "Is this only your
idea?"
        "No. I talked it over with the Captain. He recorded a message for
you to take back." Fernas slid a chip across the table, which the other Jedi
hesitantly took.
        "And what do I do with this?" Dellen asked pointedly, wondering
exactly where Master Fernas was leading him.
        The older Jedi shrugged. "You'll have to figure that out when you
get there. Take it to the Jedi Council if you can; they'll know what to do
with it."
        Dellen nodded slowly, contemplating what Fernas had just said. "All
right, I'll do it. When do I leave?"
        "I suggest you leave in a few hours."
        "What!" Dellen exclaimed with outrage. When he noticed the
expressions on the crew, he lowered his voice. "That hardly gives me time to
pack!"
        "I'm sorry about the brief notice, Dellen, but I was only informed
earlier about our test run."
        "Is there any reason why I can't leave after we run the test?"
        "A very good one." The Jedi leaned back in his chair. "If it fails,
we'll either be trapped in hyperspace or destroyed."
        Dellen swallowed a lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat.
"All right," he finally said. "I'll leave in a few hours, once I pack." He
paused. "Hold on for a moment. The shuttle will need to be checked. I think
it might have been slightly damaged in the asteroid field."
        "I'll see to it," Fernas replied as he extended his hand. "Thank
you, Master Dellen. I knew I could count on you."
        "You're welcome," he acknowledged as he stood up to leave.

        * * *

        "That was quick," Janeway commented as the last of the bacta patches
was applied to her injured arm. The only thing about this form of treatment
was that it apparently itched far in excess of the tingle caused by a dermal
regenerator. As she watched the droid apply the patch, it told her in its
barely-modulated voice that the patch would have to remain on for the next
half hour or until the bacta did its job.
        Which, she concluded, wasn't so bad after all, considering that her
only other option was to return to a Doctor who sincerely believed her
crazy. That was certainly something she was not looking forward to.
        "Your wounds have been dressed. You are free to go," the droid
finally reported as it rolled back from the chair she was sitting in. "Have
a very safe day."
        "Thank you," she absently told the machine, lifting up her arm and
inspecting it. The itching was already subsiding somewhat, and the patches
were roughly the same color as her skin. As Janeway came to her feet, she
caught a glance from Chakotay that made her pause. It was not a glance of
malice, nor one of happiness; it was simply a look that told her as much as
if had he spoken directly to her. 
        /He doesn't trust me/, she thought solemnly.
        When they reached the turbolift, Chakotay finally spoke the question
that she knew was inevitable.
        "Kathryn," he began informally, "how exactly did you get out of
Sickbay in the first place? Those scrapes on your arm suggest that you were
in a fight, but I thought that the Doctor had you under lock and key."
        "He did," she answered after a long and uncomfortable pause. "I
bypassed the security codes in the main computer, and was able to override
the force-fields."
        "I knew it," Chakotay muttered. "Starfleet really needs to secure
their computers better. But I guess what's done is done. What about the
scratches on your arm?"
        "The Doctor became aware of my plans somehow, I suppose. He tried to
sedate me with a hypospray; I grabbed a cart and knocked him over with it,
then tried to deactivate him. It worked the first time, at least; then he
isolated himself from the computer. I tried cutting all power to Sickbay
next, but that only shut the lights and instruments off. He came at me
again, and I tripped over a cart full of medical instruments. That's where
the scratches came from."
        Chakotay grimaced. "If Tuvok were here, he'd insist that you be put
in the Brig. Breach of protocol and all."
        "You're right," Janeway finally said. "And I'd do the same in his
place. Just look at what I did... broke out of Sickbay, stole the Delta
Flyer, and promptly managed to destroy it. It's a wonder I didn't kill
myself in the process."
        "You're lucky that Master Dellen is a good pilot," Chakotay replied.
        "I know," she acknowledged. "I should probably return to Voyager,
though, and see what the Doctor will do about this." Janeway shook her head.
"I don't even know why I did that now."
        "Forget it. There's nothing we can do about it now, unless you want
to take Voyager and slingshot around the local star at Warp 10."
        She smiled. "I'd rather not, given how desperately it tries to shake
itself apart at anything over Warp 9."
        The turbolift doors slid open, showing the Mess Hall. "Well,"
Chakotay finally stated, "one thing is for sure. Voyager needs to have a
full overhaul as soon as we get back to the Alpha Quadrant."
        Janeway knew he wasn't kidding. With the damage wrought on it by the
Borg, Kazon, Krenim, and Species 8472, it was a wonder they'd made it this
far in one piece. "More like a full refitting," she agreed as she hesitantly
stepped into the food line, with Chakotay, Paris, and Derek hanging back at
a slight distance. 
        Chakotay obviously noticed her hesitance in stepping into line.
"Don't worry," he eventually said. "The food here is much better than
Neelix's cooking, even if it is completely alien. If they have nerf, try
it--it's just like that Welsh rarebit you like so much."
        "I will," she said as she took a tray. "Anything sounds good after
you've had leola root stew."

        * * *

        In his compact quarters, Dellen was more or less unconcerned with
the discussion in the mess. Rather, he was concerned with getting his
belongings together. Not that he had many, that is; Jedi Knights usually
packed very little: two or three different outfits, designed for the types
of worlds they visited most frequently; some survival gear, which was always
a necessity; and their lightsabre. 
        Indeed, this is for the most part what Dellen was packing, with the
exception of Captain Avin's message chip and some other assorted souvenirs
from this galaxy, namely one of Starfleet's Universal Translators and a
tricorder. He'd received the former from one of Voyager's communications
officers and the latter had been given to him by their chief engineer; he
hadn't felt like discarding them, for who knew when something like that
might come in handy?
        Satisfied, he grabbed the crate that was packed with his belongings,
checked to make sure that his lightsabre was clipped onto his belt, and
strode out the door. 
        Thus ended his term as chief historian of the Outbound Flight. He'd
been chosen for the position by the Jedi Council, who felt that his
experience as assistant historian in the Temple would be useful in the
destination galaxy. In reality, however, he'd proven to be more or less
superfluous; the Bulk Cruiser had been equipped with a compact database
system, containing much of the major history of the Republic (yet still with
enough room to contain more from whatever they found), and there were data
archival droids to manage the database.
        Not that Dellen did not mind leaving. The crew of the Rendili
/Neutron Star/-class Bulk Cruiser had become almost like an extended family
to him. Then again, his duty still remained with the Jedi Order, and there
it would stay. He had been requested to join the Outbound Flight, and now he
had been requested to return; now, it was his duty to ensure that the
message chip fell into the proper hands.
        /The last thing we need/, he decided, /is for Darth Sidious to get
this chip/.
        It didn't take long for him to reach the hangar, and when he did it
was still bustling with activity, although it was now focused on the shuttle
he would be taking, rather than the one that was being retrofitted earlier.
But that didn't stop Dellen from idly inspecting the other shuttle as he
waited for the droids to load his crate aboard; he stooped down to inspect
the modified outriggers on that shuttle.
        "Anything I can help you with, Master?" one of the engineers asked
as he walked up to the Jedi.
        "Not really," Dellen replied, "unless you can get my shuttle
prepared any faster." Noticing the look on the engineer's face, he
continued. "But don't worry about it. I don't want you guys to work too fast
and forget something, like checking the carbon scrubbers."
        "Yes, sir." He still didn't leave. Dellen finally decided to ask him
a question.
        "Are these grooves here part of the warp system you were
installing?"
        "Yes, Sir. They're the warp coils, the part that creates the warping
of space. Normally, they're extended away from the ship for maximum
efficiency, and the outriggers seemed a natural place to put them."
        "Oh." It didn't seem natural to him to land on a key part of the
propulsion system, but he took the engineer's word on the matter.

        Several minutes later, he climbed back into the other shuttle,
taking his position in the cockpit and checking the instrument panel for any
warning indicators. Finding none, he signalled the hangar crew his readiness
and started the warmup sequence.
        "Outbound Flight Shuttle 1, you are cleared for exit."
        "Acknowledged, Hangar Control," Dellen replied over the comm. He
eased power once again to the repulsorlifts, and the shuttle glided off the
smooth hangar deck. Easing it out was slightly trickier, considering that he
didn't want to scorch the hangar by firing the primary engines. 
        He didn't have to worry about it. The shuttle glided out of the
hangar as if it were nothing, and once in space Dellen brought the throttle
up to full power, accelerating toward the black hole.
        The navicomputer, however, was his biggest delay. Calculating the
jump so close to the black hole took what seemed to be an eternity, although
it finally came up with a course. 
        He pulled back on the actuator, and the stars seemed to elongate as
the shuttle did the impossible, accelerating beyond the speed of light. It
would be a mere twenty minutes before he reached his destination.

        * * *

        Janeway glanced up from her food, listening for a barely perceptible
whine that seemed to come from around them. "What is that?" she finally
asked.
        Derek looked around confusedly. "What?"
        "That high-pitched whine I heard a few seconds ago."
        "Oh, that." He paused as if listening, but apparently didn't hear
anything. "I think we just jumped to hyperspace.
        She nearly dropped her fork. "Already? I thought you're the chief
engineer. Aren't you supposed to be down there?"
        He laughed softly. "No, I'm off duty, and I'm also not the chief
engineer. Besides, the engine room is pretty much automated."
        This time there was a faint shuddering accompanying the whine. Derek
watched his plate rattle and move slightly with the expression of one who
isn't entirely happy with the situation. He placed his fork down, and
quickly swallowed. "I don't think the inertial dampers handled that one as
well as they should have. Nice talking with you, Captain Janeway, but I
think I should go and check."
        "Same to you, Lieutenant." She watched him leave, but as soon as
he'd stepped out the door there was another faint shudder, and his plate
moved slightly.
        "We didn't go to hyperspace again, did we?"
        "I don't think so," Chakotay responded, coming to his feet quickly.
Almost immediately, the klaxons began blaring.
        "Now what?"
        The comm system answered her question for her. "All personnel,
report to your stations. We are under attack. This is not a drill. Repeat,
all personnel, report to your stations."
        The mess hall emptied quite rapidly, and within moments the Voyager
personnel were the only ones left.
        "I don't like this," Chakotay finally said. "We'll go to the Bridge
and see what's going on."
        "Shouldn't we be on Voyager?" Janeway pointed out.
        The ship shuddered again. "Not enough time for that," Chakotay
replied as he broke into a run for the turbolift. "Come on."
        Janeway and the others wasted no time in following him, and within
moments they were inside of a turbolift car. Chakotay slapped the control
panel, inserting a pass card when the computer prompted him. 

        When they arrived at the Bridge, the security guards looked them
over, then waved the group on. 
        "What's going on?" Chakotay asked as soon as he was in earshot of
Captain Avin.
        "I think we already have our answer," Seven said, pointing toward
the viewports. Following her direction, Janeway looked. Her jaw promptly
dropped.
        "How did they know?" she half-whispered as a greenish beam lanced
out from the attacker, striking somewhere on the Bulk Cruiser. When it did,
more alarms erupted in the crew pit.
        Chakotay stopped to look as green fire seemed to light up the
bridge. His jaw also dropped, and he uttered two words that explained it
all. "The Borg."


Chapter Seven
  =============


        Acting solely on habit, Dellen reached forward to the control panel of
the small shuttle and put his hand just next to the manual hyperdrive actuator.
It was mostly a useless gesture, however, since the actual chance of a
navicomputer failure was quite low. Even so, it never hurt (especially
considering that he was traveling so close to a massive hyperspace shadow).
        Precisely on time and without so much as a shudder, the shuttle smoothly
emerged from hyperspace. From as close to the black hole as he was, he was
presented with an unmistakably thrilling, yet alarming, view of the black hole.
A disk of gas molecules, oblivious to their own fate, spun around the gravitic
anomaly at such incredible speeds that Dellen could visually track the general
motion of the accretion disk.
        Dellen shook himself. While the phenomenon was a sight for sore eyes -
especially when one was confined to a ship for some time - it was far too
hypnotizing to focus on. Instead, he looked over at the navigational console and
reviewed the coordinates on the navicomp's display. Before he'd left, Master
Fernas had taken several minutes to pre-enter most of the necessary coordinates,
but the control of the most critical jump-the one through the black hole-had
been left to him.
        He finally turned back to the controls, took a deep breath, and
concentrated. The maze of gravity slowly became clearer as he let the Force
guide him, until finally he knew exactly where the point that he needed to go
through was. To the shuttle's limited sensors, it was just part of the black
hole and impenetrable by conventional means. To the Force, it shone like a
beacon, drawing his attention to it.
        Force or no, were it not for the hyperdrive he'd still be stranded in
this galaxy. Dellen could tell through simple insight that the maze of gravity
was too thickly intertwined to allow him to pass through to his destination.
He'd be drawn off course and crushed. But such was the advantage of the
hyperdrive: traveling at a speed far beyond that of light, and indeed in a
different dimension, he could avoid the pull of gravity just long enough to
reach his destination. That was what C'baoth had done, albeit with detrimental
effects to the hyperdrive. Dellen could only hope that he wouldn't have the same
problem.
        Finally, he made some minute adjustments to the shuttle's trajectory,
and activated the faster-than-light drive. With a burst of speed so intense that
it shoved him back into his seat, despite all that the inertial dampers could
do, the shuttle shot into hyperspace. What followed was not quite as smooth, and
was indeed so sudden that it had passed before he realized what had happened.
The ship seemed to lurch, nearly throwing him through the crash webbing and out
of his chair. Then the ship lurched again, this time so hard that spots began to
form before his eyes. The last thing that Dellen heard before blackness
overwhelmed him was the sound of the cockpit door sealing.

        * * *

        As the alarms blared around him on the bridge, Captain Avin paused for
what might have been an eternity to regard the new arrivals. He certainly knew
who they were-they'd been working with each other for over a month now-but that
wasn't what he found interesting about them. It might have had to do with the
fact that he hadn't seen one of the people standing in front of him for almost
three weeks of that month, but even that wasn't quite close to the real reason.
        "The Borg?" he finally asked with a hint of disbelief, wondering if
their universal translators weren't quite working correctly. "You mean the
collective you described? 
        "The one and the same," Chakotay replied quickly-probably to save time,
Avin mentally noted.
        "So that explains the rather cryptic transmission they sent us a few
minutes ago. We couldn't make out what they said, but it sounds like they're a
rather friendly bunch." As if to punctuate his statement, another greenish beam
slammed into the ship directly in front of the bridge.
        "I guess they sent you their standard welcoming message," Chakotay
replied with the barest hint of a smile. "Along the lines of, 'We are the Borg,
resistance is futile, you will be assimilated.'"
        "How nice," Avin dryly remarked as one of the Bulk Cruiser's turbolaser
batteries opened fire, spitting a rather pathetic display of reddish blasts at
the attackers. "So why didn't you tell us before that we were in their
territory?"
        Chakotay heaved a sigh as a second battery opened fire. It wasn't as if
two batteries could do much against several cubes when an entire fleet of
starships was hard pressed to destroy just one, and barely at that. For him, it
was simply delaying the inevitable. Running, he finally concluded, was probably
the best option. "I didn't think it was necessary," he said after a tense moment
had passed. "All the sensor readings we'd taken showed no Borg activity."
        "I suppose those readings were inaccurate, then," the Captain commented.
        "Not necessarily, Sir. The Borg move rather quickly. It's almost
impossible to tell when they're coming unless you're actively scanning with
long-range sensors."
        "Well, that's wonderful." Avin's expression said exactly the opposite,
however. "Sounds just like it is at home."
        "What do you mean?" Another volley of beams impacted the shields as
Chakotay asked the question. Concerned, Avin looked to the personnel in the crew
pit, but they hurried about their tasks professionally, despite how he knew they
must be feeling.
        "When you're in hyperspace," Avin answered simply, "you can't detect
ships in realspace and vice versa."
        Before Chakotay could acknowledge, he heard a voice from the crew pit
speak up. "Sir?" Belatedly, he turned about to see if he could identify the
speaker.
        "Yes, Lieutenant?" the Captain promptly asked.
        The lieutenant drew in a deep breath before beginning. "Sir, our shields
are being steadily depleted by the hostiles, and we don't have the firepower to
do them significant damage. I recommend we retreat at once, Sir."
        "Recommendation noted, Lieutenant. What is the status of Navigation?"
        He stepped back to confer with another person that Chakotay guessed was
also a lieutenant, trying hard to ignore the increasingly common green flashes.
"The computer is completing the calculations, but it will take some more time to
finish, Sir."
        "I want an exact time, Lieutenant."
        The lieutenant stepped back again. "Unknown, Sir. The local conditions
are interfering with the calculations."
        Avin sighed, looking at the encroaching cubes. "Where are those Jedi
when you need them the most?" he muttered, half to himself.
        "Right here," a voice behind the Captain suddenly said, nearly causing
him to lose his balance and fall into the crew pit. "Seems we have a bit of
trouble, no?"
        "I wish you wouldn't do that," Avin said as he turned about to face
Master Fernas. "Yes, we have quite a serious problem. We're being attacked by
the Borg."
        "Wonderful," Fernas said as if he knew exactly what Borg were, even
though Chakotay didn't remember his being at the first meeting. "I suppose
you've considered retreat?"
        "The idea occurred to me, yes," Avin somewhat sarcastically responded.
"We're already calculating the jump. Maybe you have a helpful suggestion to
make?"
        Ignoring the other captain, Janeway interrupted the conversation. "Is
this ship fast enough to outrun them? I know you said it can cross the galaxy in
weeks, but so can the Borg."
        Fernas regarded her with an inquisitive stare. "This ship can make Point
Five past lightspeed under good conditions, which is enough to outrun almost
anything in our galaxy."
        She said nothing for a very long moment, then finally opened her mouth
and closed it twice before speaking. "You mean to tell me," Janeway began, "that
you lied to us-that this ship can only do one and a half times the speed of
light?"
        The Jedi shook his head disbelievingly, turning toward the crew pit and
speaking in a commanding tone. "Lieutenant, get that jump plotted on the
double." 
        "Yes, Master," a reply came quickly, and it seemed as though the
activity in the crew pit doubled.
        "You didn't answer my question, Mr. Fernas. _What do you mean by point
five?_"
        "Watch and see, Captain." He turned away again, and spent several
moments conversing with Captain Avin before giving some more orders to the crew.
        "Sir?" Chakotay noticed that it was the same lieutenant who had spoken
earlier. "Sir," he repeated to Avin, "the enemy has locked onto us with a
tractor beam. We can't jump to hyperspace."
        Avin nodded, then spoke in the direction of the pit. "Gunnery, target
and destroy that tractor emitter." He didn't even wait for the response before
turning back. "Captain Janeway-"
        This time, a shout cut him off. "Sir!" Before Avin could acknowledge,
the crewman continued. "Ventral shield generator 5A has just failed, switching
to 5B. /Voyager/ has taken a direct hit to the bridge, damage and casualties
unknown. We also have reports of boarders on the lower decks."
        "What?" Janeway half-shouted. "You said-"
        "Captain Janeway," Avin slowly spoke, "if you continue to interfere with
the operations of my crew, I will request that you remove yourself from my
bridge. Is that understood?"

        * * *

        By the time Dellen came back to his senses, he wasn't quite sure how
much time had passed-only that a lot of it must have had elapsed. Well, there
were a few things that had to be done before he could figure out the time.
First, his emergency crash webbing had activated, effectively immobilizing him
with its tendril-like mesh. He spent the next few minutes disentangling himself
and disconnecting the safety harness.
        Once that was done, he leaned forward and looked at the displays. Dellen
was mostly expecting what greeted him: nothing save for the emergency power
status lights. _At least those are on,_ he thankfully noted as he slowly stood
up.
        After nearly bashing his head on the overhead controls, and briefly
wondering if the shuttle's designers had been Sullustans or another short
species, he stepped back and checked the cockpit door. It was sealed, indicating
a possible loss of atmosphere in the aft compartments. Well, that was rather
unsurprising. By all rights, it was a wonder that the small shuttle had survived
thus far; it was even more of a wonder that /he/ had survived. A testament to
the design, he supposed.
        But there wasn't much point in deciding the odds. He'd survived, and
that was one thing that really mattered. The other thing that mattered was that
he had to figure out a way to reach Coruscant. 
        Dellen crossed the cockpit again, being careful not to slam his forehead
into the upper control panel. He quickly glanced over it, finally flicking a few
switches.
        Nothing happened.
        The Jedi flipped the switches back to their previous positions and tried
again. Still, nothing happened. He gritted his teeth, realizing that it meant he
was relying exclusively on backup power, which was only good to keep the
life-support equipment running for several weeks. After that... well, he didn't
want to consider it at the moment.
        He walked back toward the cockpit door, and pressed the activation
button. Dellen was promptly greeted with a warning buzz; so much for that idea.
There wasn't any atmosphere on the other side.
        Briefly, he ran through the possibilities in his mind. He'd seen
firsthand what the failure of the Bulk Cruiser's hyperdrive system had resulted
in; it had killed most of those who were working in the engine room at the time,
by backfeeding the motivator and overloading the hyperdrive cooling system with
catastrophic results. Such an equipment failure could have easily breached the
thin hull of the shuttle, allowing the atmospheric gases to escape. 
        Again, the Jedi strode to the control panel, and glanced at the
navicomputer, noticing immediately that it was not on. Sighing, he depressed the
power button and waited for the computer to come online, which it did after some
time. Quickly, Dellen prompted the computer to display the shuttle's current
coordinates, and was naturally dismayed to see that he was in a degrading orbit
of the black hole.
        _And I don't even have thrusters,_ he thought idly, wondering how in the
galaxy he was supposed to get out of orbit with only emergency power. He threw
himself into the pilot's chair, and exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh. After
staring at the accretion disk for several minutes, he apparently made up his
mind and picked up a headset, then changed some settings on the main control
panel.
        "Attention any nearby ships," Dellen began. "This is Outbound Flight
Shuttle One requesting assistance. Ship is disabled and currently in degrading
orbit of a black hole. Please acknowledge. Message repeats."
        He pulled the headset off, disconnected it and switched to the main
speakers, then got back up and walked aft to see if there was anything he could
do with the door.

        * * *

        "Captain," Janeway retorted, "I understand that this is your ship, but
/my/ ship has just been damaged and I need to know what is going on!"
        Avin glanced at her for a moment, then turned back to the battle at hand
as if to ignore her. "Captain Janeway, I appreciate your concern for your crew,
but you do not seem to realize that you are endangering both my crew and your
own by your rash actions. Will you please just let us escape alive, and then ask
questions later?"
        Janeway paused for a moment to consider what he said, all while the
rather one-sided battle continued in space. "My apologies, Captain Avin," she
tersely responded in a tone that wasn't quite what one would expect for an
apology.
        "Thank you," Avin quickly said as he spun about to face Chakotay. "You
had something to say, Commander?"
        Chakotay had a hard time collecting his wits; battles could be terribly
confusing when you were aboard another vessel. "Yes. One of your crew mentioned
boarders. If they're Borg, you will need to tell everyone to stay away from the
intruders, and to kill them from a distance if possible. They can adapt to
weapons, though, which makes it difficult."
        Wordlessly, Avin quickly walked over to a communications terminal and
made the announcement. As the Captain was doing so, however, Chakotay heard an
all-too-familiar whine, accompanied by someone in the crew pit shouting that a
dorsal shield generator had been knocked down. He quickly looked about himself,
breathing an ancient Native American curse under his breath once he'd located
the source of the noise.
        "So that's what the Borg look like in person," Master Fernas commented
in a slightly amused tone as the nearest drone began to move forward. In a blur
of motion that was almost too fast to see, he ignited his lightsabre and brought
it up in what Chakotay assumed was an _en garde_ stance. "They need to fire
their fashion designers," he continued jocularly. "That headgear looks rather...
drab."
        Acting on instinct, Chakotay reached down to grab his phaser, only to
realize--belatedly--that he wasn't carrying one. When he looked back up,
however, he realized that he didn't really need one after all. Nearly every crew
member on the bridge had a blaster out and trained on one of the unexpected
arrivals, although due to the fact that the drones didn't pose any imminent
threat, none of the crew had opened fire yet. After looking around again,
Chakotay noticed another possible reason for their lack of fire.
        Indeed, he had to wonder at the courage of these Jedi. Master Fernas was
striding--with an almost curious expression on his face--toward the nearest of
the drones, his emerald energy blade blazing as if possessed of the power of a
star. The Commander wondered for a moment where the blade had come from, until
he noticed the cylindrical device that the Jedi had in his hand. Finally, it
made sense; that was what all the Jedi had been wearing on their belts.
        In one deft stroke, the sabre slashed through the neck of the drone, and
with a thump the head landed on the deck, still sparking and bleeding at the
connection points. Fernas prodded at idly with his boot, and Chakotay nearly
shouted out as he saw another drone (obviously alerted) walking up behind the
Jedi. Almost as if the Jedi had sensed the alarm on his mind, Fernas again spun
about, intercepting the drone's extended arm with the blade of his sabre and
cleanly slicing it off. He then parried (if one could even call it that) another
attempt by the drone to reach his neck, and even Chakotay nearly laughed in
amusement at the armless, virtually helpless drone.
        It became obvious after several seconds that even removing both arms
wasn't going to stop it. Veins on the humanoid drone's forehead began to bulge,
and with a sickening crunch more greyish metallic tubules extended themselves
toward the Jedi. Apparently growing tired of the drone's repeated attempts,
Fernas lifted his lightsabre up and neatly bisected it, whose two
still-twitching halves then crashed to the deck.
        By no means was it the end. Still more drones moved toward their most
obvious threat, and immediately met the same fate as the first two. The Jedi was
now sweeping across the Bridge like an avenging Angel of Death, all while
red-hued blaster bolts flew toward their targets. For Chakotay, it was quite an
awesome experience; the sound of dozens of blasters ringing as they fired,
combined with the loud hum of the Jedi's sabre, was enough to inspire him with
wonder. It was a far cry from the limited combat that Voyager's crew had with
the Borg so far.
        "Dorsal shields back up," someone shouted over the din of battle as
several more cubes appeared. The Borg certainly weren't taking their chances
this time, Chakotay observed with mild apprehension. He saw a yellow-gold phaser
beam lance out from an unseen place and strike the leading Cube, but to no
effect. Well, at least that proved that someone was manning /Voyager's/ battle
bridge.
        As in response to the lone phaser shot, the assembled cubes fired in
unison. Their own greenish beams struck back toward the unseen location where
the phaser beam had come from.
        "More damage to /Voyager/," someone in the crew pit was saying. "Hull
breaches on decks 1 through 5, loss of atmosphere, unknown casualties."
        Avin didn't say anything in response to that unseen crewman. "Helm, roll
us to port so that Voyager won't take any more fire," he quickly barked in the
general direction of the conn, firing on another drone that had somehow come too
close to him for comfort. The drone dropped to the floor with a heavy burn
between its eyes.
        "Yes, Sir," came the prompt reply. Another drone impacted the deck, its
head rolling rather messily into the crew pit (to the astonishment of the
startled crew). For all of the Borg's experience in creating cutting beams,
Chakotay reflected with a slight smile, they still hadn't figured out a way to
defend against them.
        /On second thought/, Chakotay considered as Fernas' blow to another
drone was reflected by a greenish force-field, /maybe they have/. 
        "Getting creative, aren't you?" the Jedi sarcastically commented as be
brought his sabre around in a continuous arc, making use of the blade's
momentum. As he did so, he increased the velocity while still holding it firm.
Bare microseconds later, the glowing blade impacted against the field, causing a
discharge of sparks; then there was a sharp /crack/ as it overwhelmed the
force-field in that place, impaling the hapless drone through the chest.
        /Then again, I guess not/, he finally decided, ducking a thrust by a
drone which had somehow gotten a little too close to him for comfort. A blaster
shot rang out over his head, and the drone dropped to the deck with a smoking
hole in its upper torso. Chakotay silently thanked whomever had fired the shot
as he stood back up and looked around.
        "Tractor beam emitter has been destroyed," another officer in the crew
pit reported after some time. No more drones showed up on the Bridge, which the
Commander found slightly interesting. /Either the Borg haven't found a way to
adapt or their shields are somehow different/, he finally decided.
        What followed next was, to put it simply, unusual. After another flurry
of activity in the crew pit, the ship almost instantly began accelerating at an
incredible pace towards the nearest of the Borg cubes--although, Chakotay noted,
not directly towards the Cube. The view then seemed to stretch and twist, and
vanish altogether into a swirling, bluish maelstrom.
        "Well, that's a sight for sore eyes," the Commander finally commented as
he began to look about for Captain Janeway. Seeing her standing near Avin, he
addressed Master Fernas. "I suppose that we're in hyperspace?"
        "You suppose correctly," Fernas replied, looking over the body of  a
fallen Borg drone with all the interest of a sleep-deprived taxidermist. The
Jedi finally turned away from the corpse and walked back toward the command
crew.
        "How fast are we going?" Janeway asked as he approached. 
        "About Point Five, as I said before," he responded, his voice sounding
exceptionally tired. "Oh, but of course, you don't understand what that means."
        She shook her head. "I might be able to understand if you could give me
a warp factor."
        "Warp factor?" Fernas replied quizzically, the expression on his face
indicating that he hadn't the slightest idea of what she meant. "I suppose it's
my turn to be confused. I'll try to put it simply, though. At Point Five, we're
covering about 130 light-years in an hour."
        Janeway blanched noticeably. The closest /Voyager/ had come to that
speed was when it was using slipstream-and even then, it was less than half of
the speed they were traveling now.  "Well," she finally said, "I hope that's
fast enough. We've never actually been able to measure the speed of Borg
transwarp."
        Fernas gave a slight smile. "In that case, should I head down to the
engine control room and coax the engineers into giving us a little more speed?"
        She shook her head; it wasn't hard to tell that he was saying it in
jest. "No, it's probably fine."
        "Suit yourself," the Jedi replied amiably, turning toward the lift. "I
think we're done here, at any rate; besides, I think your ship needs some
immediate attention. Care to come along, or do you want to bother Captain Avin
some more?"
        Janeway looked at Chakotay and Seven, gesturing to them. She then turned
back to Fernas. "We'll come."


Chapter Eight
  =============


        To say that the air in the main chamber of the ancient Massassi temple
was humid would have been a severe understatement. Think of an old-style sauna,
with a fire heating water and that water being turned into vapor with the scent
of the burning wood. Now replace the wood with two hundred Jedi trainees of
varied species, the wholesome smoky scent of the wood with the odor of two
hundred bodies, and you approached the atmosphere present in the chamber. But in
this case the vapor was invisible, a sticky addition to the air that could not
be seen although it could be felt.
        Jacen Solo, standing two rows from the front of the room, certainly felt
the humidity. He reached up and loosened his robe, fanning himself slightly as
he did so. A half-dozen unpleasant odors assaulted his nostrils, and he quietly
observed that Wookiees didn't always smell very good. It was one of those
observations he couldn't help but make, considering that there was a seven-foot
tall Wookiee standing immediately in front of him.
        On one side of him, he heard a quiet snort, and he turned to look. His
sister Jaina turned her face away from him, attempting to cover her mouth in the
process. Jacen sighed at the distraction; here he was, nineteen years of age,
and being laughed at by his sister as if he were only twelve. If there was
anything he hated the most about having a Jedi-talented twin sister, that was
it: the fact that they always knew what the other was thinking.
        Pushing all thoughts of his sister aside, Jacen leaned back in his seat
and closed his eyes. Immediately, everything that he hadn't noticed while his
eyes were open snapped into focus: the plethora of aromas that wafted about the
Grand Chamber, the sounds caused by several hundred trainees, various
conversations taking place. Most of the conversations, he noted after about a
minute, were merely the usual gossip that floated about the Academy. There were
some people theorizing about what the meeting was going to be about--he listened
to one of those with mild interest--and other conversations concerned the
preceding day's assignments. 
        At that moment, a particular voice caught his attention.
        "Do you think this has something to do with the Chief of State's
resignation?"
        Jacen snapped out of his trance-like state in a heartbeat. "Jaina?" he
whispered.
        "What?"
        "Do you know if Mom resigned?"
        His sister looked at him with a shocked expression. "What makes you
think that?"
        Jacen shrugged. "I heard someone talking about the Chief of State's
resignation. Just wondering if you'd heard anything." It was not terribly
surprising, considering that the Academy students were mostly cut off from the
rest of the galaxy. Although there was a communications center, it was primarily
reserved for emergencies and such.
        "No, I haven't," Jaina admitted. "Although Anakin should know, since
he's coming back from Coruscant today."
        /Of course/, Jacen realized. "I hope he'll be in time for this meeting,"
he whispered back.
        "He will," she commented. "We still have fifteen minutes before the
meeting is supposed to start."
        He sat up and looked toward the exit, wondering if he would see anyone
coming in. A slight clatter from above his head distracted him, and Jacen looked
up to see a woman, clad in a grey suit that seemed to be made of a type of
reptilian hide, descending from one of the temple's skylights. Slowly, she
rapelled down the rope, using only her hands and feet, and finally landed in
front of an empty seat next to Jacen. She quickly snapped the fibercord, which
detached from the rock face a dozen meters above and landed (albeit somewhat
disorganized) in her hand. Several students applauded.
        "You always were one to make a grand entrance, Tenel Ka," Jacen
commented with a smile on his face as the Dathomirian coiled the fibercord.
        "I decided that it would be easier than pushing through a smelly crowd,"
she replied nonchalantly after she'd clipped the cord to her belt. Running her
hands through her red-gold braids to straighten them out, she continued. "I
suppose I haven't missed much?"
        Jacen shook his head. "No, they haven't even started yet. We're still
waiting for Uncle Luke and Corran."
        "Good." She sat down, releasing a heavy sigh. Jacen noticed that streams
of sweat were pouring down her forehead.
        "How hot is it out there?" he casually inquired.
        Tenel Ka took a piece of cloth off her belt and wiped her face with it.
"It's not as hot as it is humid. And it's definately hotter in here."
        "That's what I thought," Jacen replied. "I guess I'll have to ask Anakin
to see about getting some condensers the next time he's off-planet."
        She nodded, but didn't say anything. For a few minutes, the only thing
that Jacen heard from her was heavy breathing as she apparently tried to cool
down.
        "Looks like they've arrived," he finally said, looking toward the
entrance. "You're right, Sis. Anakin's with them."
        "And arguing with Kyp, it would seem," Jaina added. "I wonder why. They
usually haven't had many disagreements."
        Jacen shrugged, coming to his feet along with the rest of the trainees
in the chamber as Master Skywalker confidantly strode in. As Luke looked at the
arrangement of the tables on the dais, however, Jacen thought for a moment that
he could see a slight frown on his uncle's face. The frown quickly disappeared,
leaving the younger trainee wondering what it was all about. He stood on his
toes in an attempt to see over Lowbacca's shoulder, and noticed that the tables
were arranged in a V-formation facing outward, which certainly was unusual. So
maybe that was the problem, he decided.
        Luke remained standing as the other Jedi Knights took their seats, and
Anakin slipped through the rows of trainees to get to his brother and sister.
Finally, when the tumult in the grand chamber had calmed down, he spoke.
        "Jedi Knights and trainees," the Jedi Master began, "I apologize for
keeping all of you in suspense as to the topic of today's meeting. I also
apologize for the suddenness of this meeting, but unfortunately events occur in
the galaxy far faster than I can respond to them."
        There was a slight murmur as he continued. "Since communications are
obviously restricted here at the Academy, most of you likely have not heard the
recent news."
        Luke drew his breath in. "Last week, Chief of State Leia Organa-Solo
resigned from her office over a scandal concerning the Jedi Order. President
Borsk Fey'lya-" At that point, a handful of "boo" cries erupted from the
chamber. Luke raised his hand in an indication to stop, and continued with his
speech. "I'm sure that many of you hold the President in high regard," he
commented with the barest hint of a smile on his face. "Personal preferences
aside, at a Senate Advisory Council meeting, Fey'lya called this Praxeum to
request that a team of Jedi be sent to the Outer Rim world of Bimmiel. However,
on my sister's urging, I had already dispatched Corran Horn and Ganner Rhysode
to the planet." Master Skywalker turned and gestured toward the person sitting
next to him. "Kyp, would you like to explain further, seeing as you're the one
who answered?"
        "I'm afraid that I can't add very much to what Master Skywalker just
said," Kyp said in a somewhat tired tone. Jacen wondered how much sleep he'd
gotten in the past few days. "Fey'lya cut off the data feed before I could hear
any more, but from what I heard it seemed that he was attempting to frame the
Chief of State on a security breach. Apparently, that's where Corran and Ganner
came into this; I think he mentioned the Bimmiel situation having to do with a
New Republic Intelligence report." He paused, looking around. "That's all I
know. Master Skywalker," the Jedi said, putting undue emphasis on master, "do
you wish to continue?"
        "I will, and thank you, Kyp," Luke said calmly as he turned to face the
assembled Jedi. "Are there any comments on what Kyp just said?"
        Someone on the other side of the chamber from Jacen spoke. "What would
archaeology have to do with the NRI?"
        "A good question, Wafra Bealar," Skywalker replied. There was a large
amount of new trainees coming into the Academy, most of whom Jacen hadn't met
yet. Of course, he could have expected his uncle to know most all of their
names. "I believe Corran can answer that question for you when his time comes,
however." He looked out at the trainees again. "Any other questions?"
        When nobody else said anything, Luke gestured to Corran, who came to his
feet. Jacen wondered briefly why he was heavily leaning on his left leg, but put
the thought aside as Corran glanced about himself, looking toward Luke briefly
for approval before proceeding.
        "A week ago, as Master Skywalker mentioned, I left for Bimmiel with my
apprentice, Ganner Rhysode. Now, before I go any further, I would like to
briefly give you some information on the planet itself." He stepped back,
limping slightly, and walked over toward a holoprojector that had been set up in
the center of the dais. Sliding what Jacen assumed to be a datachip into the
machine, he then turned it on.
        "This is Bimmiel," Corran began. "Not much to look at, really. But, as I
discovered in the notes of the scientific team, it has quite an interesting
ecology."
        Jacen perked up at that point. Perhaps this wouldn't be another boring,
pointless meeting after all.
        "The planet follows a highly elliptical orbit, and its rotational tilt
is very pronounced. The result of these factors is that the planet's surface is
somewhat inhospitable, being covered mostly in sand dunes. It has two small
polar ice caps, which the archaeologists theorized were being slowly worn away
by the recent dust storms that have been sweeping across the planet's surface.
The southernmost one is already surrounded by a large ocean."
        Jaina yawned, distracting Jacen momentarily.
        "It has, surprisingly, a large population of native creatures. I'll be
brief on this part, but suffice it to say that they are of two kinds: herbivores
and predators. The predators are primarily slashrats, burrowing creatures that
use their strong tails as weapons. They are more of a threat than their name
sounds; we encountered several of them."
        Corran took the opportunity to switch the image displayed by the
holoprojector. It now showed a small debris cloud that orbited the planet.
        "This was the situation when we arrived in the /Dalliance/. A debris
field, which we identified as belonging to the Obroan Institute's research
vessel /Penga Rift/, was all that was left in orbit."
        He changed the view again, this time to show a wide, sweeping prarie on
Bimmiel. While it seemed to be only grass, after looking at the large holo for
several seconds Jacen thought he could make out some debris scattered across the
plains.
        "This was the site of the research base. Not much to look at, is it? We
searched for over a day, looking for any indications of what might have happened
to the researchers."
        "What did you find?" some overeager trainee inquired from the back of
the chamber.
        "Quite a bit, actually," Corran replied. "That's what I'm about to show
you."
        He reached for the holoprojector controls again. Now the image of a
skull, longer than that of a human and with a low cranial ridge, appeared. As
Jacen looked at it, he wondered about it. In addition to its odd appearance, it
seemed to have many fracture lines and deformities. The cheekbones--if one could
even call them that--had been broken and reset in an odd fashion, resulting in
the skull's face having a slope that went from left to right. The nose bones had
also clearly been shattered, giving the skull an odd, leering appearance.
        "What is that thing?" someone exclaimed.
        Corran shrugged. "We couldn't figure it out. The datachips we found
identified it as 'AR-312,' but didn't give any other information. I'm assuming
that was the scan number. There were also scans of the entire corpse, and also a
computer reproduction of the creature as it might have stood. I'll show that
right now."
        The hologram changed, now to display a full-size view of the humanoid.
Human-style flesh had been added to give it somewhat of a more life-like
appearance, but just from taking one look at it Jacen knew it wasn't even
remotely human. It stood a half-meter taller than the typical human, and its
shoulders were broad and powerfully built. Its face, which seemed to be
painstakingly reconstructed from the skull, posessed the same leering, almost
hideous quality that the skull had.
        "The scans identified this as being over fifty years old," Corran
continued. "It was found in a collapsed cave to the north of the research base
along with weapons and armor, according to the chip."
        "Did you return this information to the Obroan Institute?" yet another
voice asked. Jacen identified it as belonging to that of Raynar Thul, a
marginally-talented student coming from one of the few remaining royal
Alderaanian houses. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't even been apprenticed by any of
the older Jedi yet. Jacen was somewhat glad that he didn't have to see Raynar,
given the rather garish robes, made of interweaved and often clashing colors,
that the man wore.
        Corran shook his head. "Although the Obroan Institute sponsored the
trip, it was organized by the University of Agamar. But to answer your question,
yes, we did stop by Agamar on our way back and return the information that the
scientists had collected before they were killed."
        "Who killed them?" another trainee asked. Jacen sighed; the
interruptions were getting more than a little annoying.
        "That's the interesting part," the Corellian answered. "It seems that
the attackers were of the same race as the corpse that the reserachers
discovered. I know that for sure; we encountered several of them when we were
searching through the remains of the base. That's how I got this," he answered,
placing his right foot on the table and lifting up the leg on his jumpsuit to
reveal a deep scar. An audible gasp went through the chamber.
        /So that's why Corran is limping/, Jacen realized.
        "Where they came from, I don't know, and probably won't know. When we
returned the data to Agamar, the researchers couldn't find anything like it in
the databases."
        Raynar spoke up again. "How could a group that's been in this galaxy for
at least fifty years have escaped our notice for that long?"
        "I really can't answer that," Corran replied with a shrug. "There just
isn't enough information, although I suppose that if the group's small enough,
they could easily evade notice for years. Remember, we still haven't mapped out
the entire galaxy; there are still thousands of unexplored stars in Wild Space."
        The discussion dragged on for several more minutes, but Jacen found his
thoughts drifting off to the figure in the hologram. /Who are they?/ he
wondered. /And what do they want?/
        His thoughts were interrupted as he heard the twittering of an astromech
droid. Jacen quickly looked toward the entrance to the auditorium, just in time
to see several people, all dressed in flight suits, come running in.
        "That's Miko Reglia in the front," Jaina whispered into his ear. "Looks
like Kyp's Dozen just arrived."
        "Wonderful," he replied, still keeping his eyes fixed on the new
arrivals. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the Jedi on the dais
were also looking at the assorted pilots that had just arrived. It was then that
he realized that the chamber had gone silent.
        Jacen watched Miko climb the steps of the dais, give a slight bow toward
Luke, and continue to Kyp. He then watched him hand--/what, a datapad?/-- to the
older Jedi. Kyp's face paled slightly as he read the datapad, which made Jacen
even more curious. The Jedi then walked over towards Skywalker, and spoke with
him for several seconds before stepping up to the podium as Corran sat back
down.
        "My apprentice Miko just told me about some new information that I
decided we should talk about here," Kyp began. "With Master Skywalker's
permission, I will begin."
        He pushed some buttons on the datapad, then walked over to the
holoprojector and did something--Jacen assumed he was uploading the
information--before walking back to the podium. "This information was recorded
by a sensor buoy that my squadron had placed in the outer areas of the Tingel
Arm, perhaps about fifty light-years from Bimmiel." Kyp momentarily closed his
eyes, and the holoprojector switched back on. A long list of coordinates and
numbers were now projected into the air beside the podium. "Along with the usual
activities, the buoy recorded some rather interesting things."
        He again manipulated the projector without even turning away from the
podium. Now, a three-dimensional diagram of a shuttle appeared, rotating around
an unseen axis.
        "Show-off," Jaina muttered under her breath.
        "This is a /Spacecaster/-class shuttle. The last of its production runs
ended over a hundred years ago when the company that produced them went
bankrupt. What's remarkable about this one is that very few are still in
existence, much less flying."
        "So?" a voice exclaimed from the rear of the auditorium. "It's a
shuttle, even if it's an antique. We see plenty every day, so why the bother?"
        Kyp leaned over as Miko whispered something into his ear. "Because," he
began, "of this."
        The projector now displayed a view of a jungle planet. "This is..." the
Jedi glanced down at the datapad, "Belkadan. Home to the scientific research
station ExGal-4. The buoy picked up a weak distress signal from the station
nearly two weeks before the signal from the /Penga Rift/ was received."
        He switched the display back to that of the shuttle. "It also recorded
this /Spacecaster/ leaving Belkadan on the same day it picked up the distress
signal. Although it couldn't track the shuttle's movements, the distress signal
told us where the shuttle was bound for."
        Now, a frozen ball of ice appeared.
        "This is Helska IV, as seen by the Third Galactic Survey over a hundred
years ago. According to the signal, this was where the shuttle was bound for.
        "It's not the only thing that the buoy recorded. A distress signal from
someone named Urias Xhaxin was recorded approximately a week after the departure
of the shuttle. His location was about twenty light-years away from Belkadan.
According to his signal, his frigate was attacked and disabled by what appeared
to be asteroids."
        Kyp stepped down from the podium and shut the holoprojector off, then
stepped back up. "Any questions?"
        Corran chose that moment to speak. "I forgot to mention that Ganner and
I were attacked by what seemed to be asteroids when we left Bimmiel. We didn't
get any sensor readings on them, but someone might have turned some small
asteroids into gun platforms."
        The auditorium erupted in conversation, and Jacen noticed that Kyp had a
somewhat surprised expression on his face when Corran had spoken.
        "Do you think this is connected with Bimmiel?" Jacen asked after almost
half a minute had passed.
        The Jedi contemplated the question. "There's a very good chance that it
is," he finally stated. "Miko thinks we should investigate it further, and I
agree with him."
        Even more discussion erupted in the auditorium. Finally, Raynar raised
his hand. "I don't think that we, as Jedi, should investigate this. I've heard
reports of what your squadron had done, Durron. You've given us a bad reputation
with the Republic government, which is why they haven't been willing to give us
the supplies we need anymore. I don't care what you want to do, because we will
not support you."
        Next to Jacen, Tenel Ka quickly came to her feet. "Raynar Thul," she
began, "you're forgetting that this isn't the typical smuggler conflict.
Innocent people are dying, and we don't even know why. Or did you forget what
Corran Horn said about the scientific team?"
        Someone else a few rows back replied. "We're peacekeepers, as Master
Skywalker keeps reminding us. Why, then, are we so eager to get into conflict?
We should bring this to the attention of the Republic, and let them do the
investigation--and get the blame if they make mistakes."
        "We're peacekeepers," Tenel Ka sharply retorted, "and you would let
people die without raising an eyebrow? What sense of morals do you have? We are
already involved, because of what Corran and Ganner did. We should find out what
this means before informing the Republic."
        "That's not what I was implying," the same voice said. "Considering what
happened when Master Skywalker dispatched Corran without the express permission
of the Republic, I don't think we should become involved in this, on either
side."
        On the dais, Kyp raised his hand to cut the arguing students off. "If we
inform the Republic of this," he pointed out, "nothing will be done until it's
too late. Tenel Ka has a good point."
        "Not the way /you/ do things." Raynar was now on his feet, but Jacen
didn't bother to look at him. "You act as if you're the government, making
decisions best left to those who are /supposed/ to be in charge."
        Kyp's gaze on the Alderaanian was unrelenting. "So what do you propose
doing, then?"
        Raynar was obviously flustered. He opened his mouth several times as if
to speak, but nothing came out the first few times. Finally, he seemed able to
collect his wits. "We bring it to the Republic's attention and let them decide
on the course of action, but no more than that."
        The room now erupted in shouting. Two seats over from Jacen, Anakin
groaned and shook his head.
        "Enough," Luke finally exclaimed in a strong voice that seemed to fill
the chamber as he came to his feet. "This conflict is getting us nowhere. As one
of you pointed out, we are peacemakers, not warlords." His voice softened
somewhat. "We do not dominate the people; instead, we serve them. As such, I
feel that we should investigate the situation, then report our findings to the
Republic if it proves worthwhile.
        "But," he added as he turned toward Kyp, "we should also not take an
offensive stance unless we are given the authority to do so. Our actions will be
in self-defense, and self-defense only; if we are attacked, we will defend
ourselves. Do I make myself clear?"
        Kyp had a somewhat disappointed expression on his face, but he nodded.
"Then we will do so, Master. When should we leave?"
        "I'll leave that up to you, Kyp," Skywalker replied.
        The younger Jedi nodded, turning back toward the assembled Jedi. "Does
anyone here want to come with my group?"
        After a long period of silence had passed, Tenel Ka stood up, much to
Jacen's surprise. "I will come," she offered.
        "Good," Kyp said. "Anyone else?"
        As the rest of the Jedi discussed the matter in hushed tones, Jacen
leaned over toward Tenel Ka with an inquiring expression on his face. "Why?" he
whispered.
        "I have been planning on visiting Dathomir for some time now," Tenel Ka
replied quietly. "It will be on the way, so I do not view it as much of an
inconvenience."
        Jacen considered what she had said for several moments, somewhat
confused about the issues. "Would you mind if I came with you?" he finally
asked. 
        "Not at all." She looked at him as if to say, /Thank you/.
        Jacen immediately stood up, raising his hand. "I'll come."
        "And so will I," Jaina said as she came to her feet.
        Kyp nodded. "That makes three. Anyone else?"
        A low, throaty roar broke the hushed atmosphere. Moments later, a
somewhat tinny voice piped up, sounding absurdly weak in comparison. Jacen
promptly identified the voice as belonging to Em Teedee, a rather smallish
translator droid that the Wookiee standing in front of him kept. "Master
Lowbacca expresses his strong desire to come as well," the droid translated. 
        Lowie growled softly at Em Teedee, which jetted backwards on its
repulsors. "What do you mean, I could have said it more plainly?"
        Jacen shook his head, a wan smile on his face. It was kind of surprising
that Lowie hadn't reprogrammed the little thing yet. See-Threepio had put a lot
of his own personality into the droid when Chewbacca had first built it, and the
results often showed.   
        "I think you're making a mistake," Raynar began to say, before Luke cut
him off as he stepped up to the podium.
        "We are all entitled to our own opinions, and I respect that," Skywalker
began. "But this kind of dissention will not get us anywhere. As some of you may
know, in several days I will be leaving for Coruscant to speak to the government
about re-establishing the Jedi Council to handle just this kind of dispute."
        "Who will be on the Council?" another trainee asked.
        "That wil be decided later," Luke replied. "As for now, this meeting is
dismissed."
        Jacen watched as the people on the dais filed down, some of them--most
notably a Twi'lek, Daeshara'cor--with disappointed looks on their faces. He
started to leave, but a hand held him back; he turned to see Tenel Ka grasping
his shoulder.
        "Not yet," she said, pointing toward the dais, where several of the Jedi
remained. "I need to talk with Kyp first."
        "No problem," he replied with a slight twang of jealousy--but just as
quickly pushed the feeling aside, hoping that Tenel Ka hadn't noticed. There
wasn't any reason, of course--Kyp had his own interests, and probably knew that
Jacen and Tenel Ka had been friends for several years now.
        When the auditorium had all but emptied, the group walked toward Kyp,
who extended his hand toward Jacen. "Thanks for your support," he said, a smile
spread across his face. "I really appreciated it."
        Jacen half-shrugged. "It wasn't really me," he admitted, wondering what
he had gotten himself into. Kyp's checkered past was fairly well-known to most
of the Jedi. Some avoided him because of it; others were constantly asking him
for advice. Jacen wasn't sure which group he fit into.
        "Well, yes." Kyp turned toward Tenel Ka. "Thank you especially. I take
it you're going to be flying your transport?"
        "That's what I was planning on doing," she replied. "Unless you would
like me to fly something else?"
        "No, no, of course not," the older Jedi replied as he ran a hand through
his hair. "In fact, I was hoping you would be taking your ship. We can use its
firepower if we run into trouble."
        Tenel Ka nodded in reply, and Kyp now turned toward Jaina. "And I hear
you've become quite a pilot." 
        Jaina blushed slightly. "Maybe exaggerating a little, but I suppose so."
        Kyp continued without pause. "We have a couple of new X-wings that'll be
arriving from Incom in a few days. They're of the XJ variant... have you ever
heard of them?"
        Jaina nodded, her curiousity piqued. The XJ was a model designed, amid
much publicity, to extend the life of the X-wing series and keep it competitive
with newer starfighters. It sported stronger shields, a slightly larger
munitions payload, external weapons hardpoints, and better maneuverability.
"I've heard a lot about them, actually."
        "I was wondering if you'd like to fly one."
        Excitement flashed across Jaina's face, but she quickly covered it up.
"I..." She paused for a moment to consider what to say. "I haven't had much
experience with X-wings," she finally said.
        "That's not a problem," Kyp replied. "There are a lot of ex-Republic
Navy pilots in the Dozen. I'm sure they'd be glad to help."
        Jaina considered his offer for nearly a minute. "No thanks. I think
Tenel Ka could use my help as a copilot."
        If Kyp was disappointed, his face didn't show it. "Whatever you want is
fine with me. But if you ever want to reconsider, just remember that there'll be
a pilot's seat open for you."
        "Well, I'll keep that in mind," Jaina replied.
        Another throaty bellow interrupted the conversation. "Master Lowbacca
wishes to inquire as to how soon we will be leaving," Em Teedee translated for
the Wookiee.
        Kyp frowned. "Maybe in a few days. I want to make sure that the XJs are
working right before we field-test them."
        "Perhaps we can rendezvous on Dathomir?" Tenel Ka asked. "I would like
to visit my grandmother for a day or two."
        "Sounds good to me." Durron looked up at the towering Wookiee. "And you,
Lowbacca. I take it you'll be going with Tenel Ka as well?"
        Lowie bleated a reply that Jacen took to be a yes.
        "Good," Kyp finally said. "I'll tell my squadron that we'll meet you on
Dathomir." He turned to Tenel Ka again. "Was there any specific place that you
wanted us to meet you?"
        "My grandmother's castle will do," the redheaded warrior replied. "I
will let her know that you're coming."
        "Thanks." The older Jedi stopped to shake everyone's hand--and
paw--before turning to leave. "Dathomir it is. I'll see all of you there in a
few days."
        Jacen watched Kyp leave, a confused expression on his face. /What have I
gotten myself into?/ he wondered.



Chapter Nine
  ============


        JACEN AWOKE to darkness so thick that one could have cut it with a
knife. He opened and closed his eyes several times, but couldn't even tell
whether they were open or shut. Something was humming steadily in the
background, something that sounded almost as if a swarm of Yavin IV's piranha
beetles were nearby.
        That thought made him practically fly out of his bunk, with the result
that he slammed his head into a hard, cold surface above himself. Rubbing his
head, he considered the situation. If there were somehow piranha beetles
nearby, he had a serious problem indeed.
        Then, finally, he let out a nervous laugh. "Room, lights full," he
ordered, and the bunkroom was instantly bathed in light. There were no piranha
beetles--the humming was that of the _Rock Dragon's_ machinery, propelling
them through hyperspace toward Dathomir.
        He quickly swung his feet off the bunk. The entire week before they
had left Yavin IV they had been preparing, and that entailed a lot of work.
First they cleaned up and sealed their quarters, which took a couple of days.
Then they'd had to stock, fuel, and prepare the _Rock Dragon,_ which took
several more days. And the trip to Dathomir from Yavin IV was another day and
a half because of the route that had to be used, which had plenty of obstacles
in the way.
        Once Jacen had finished dresing, he stepped outside the bunkroom and
walked toward the transport's small hold. He found everyone sitting around a
holotable off to the side.
        "Playing Dejarik again, sis? How badly did you get beaten this time?"
        Jaina turned to face him, a triumphant smile on her face. "I didn't."
She stood up and stretched. "I was wondering when you would wake up, anyway.
We're about half an hour from Dathomir now."
        "That close, huh?" he asked, a mildly surprised expression across his
face. As she nodded her agreement, he sat down at the end of the bench and
watched the current game between Lowbacca and Tenel Ka. "I'll play the
winner," Jacen offered after some time.
        "You?" his sister chortled in amusement. "I thought you hated
dejarik."
        He shrugged. "Maybe I do, but it's better than nothing."
        "You won't have enough time," Tenel Ka finally said during one of
Lowie's turns, her eyes focused on the board as the Wookiee made his move.
"Ah. Aha." She tapped the controls briefly, and one of her smallest
holographic characters jumped across the table, knocking down a much larger
character. Lowbacca urfed in surprise as the redhead leaned back contentedly.
        "You were focusing too much on offense," she offered. "Anyway, I
believe we only have about five minutes left. Would anyone care to come to the
cockpit?"

        Five minutes later, the cockpit of the _Rock Dragon_ was at its
maximum rated capacity, with all four seats filled. The cockpit, located at
the very front of the transport, had a viewing arc that was completely
unobstructed--unlike that of the _Millenium Falcon,_ whose loading mandibles
blocked a good portion of the view. Presently, the viewport was displaying one
of the oddities of hyperspace, a swirling maelstrom of blueshifted light that
seemed to defy conventional astrophysics. 
        Not that its occupants were interesteed in the view, of course. They
were no strangers to hyperspace travel, and had seen that 'sky' any number of
times. Of course, they were somewhat concerned about where the undefined lanes
of hyperspace were taking them; Jaina's hand rested above the manual override,
"just in case" as her father had said so many times. Even so, there was really
no danger of navicomp failure.
        "Right on schedule," Jaina reported as the navicomputer pulled them
out of hyperspace. They were instantly greeted by a multicolored orb that
seemed to hang in space--Dathomir. Dominated by browns owing to its mostly
desert-like terrain, the planet had large patches of blue scattered across its
surface. High clouds obscured a third of the visible area, although Tenel Ka
didn't have to see it to know what was there.
        Tenel Ka was silent for the longest time as Jaina began running their
approach vector through the navicomp. It had been almost two years since she
had visited her home; she wondered how much it had changed in the time she had
been away. Probably not by much, she eventually decided. Although there had
been radical thinkers since the planet's incorporation into the New
Republic--the Shadow Academy's ill-fated Nightsisters were among them--none of
them had lasted for very long. Her mother's clan, the Singing Mountain clan,
was indeed the largest and strongest on Dathomir.
        The planet below seemed to spin in place as the transport rolled so as
to be right-side upon entering the atmosphere. The twisted remains of Warlord
Zsinj's orbital shipyards flashed by, seemingly streaked by the speed of their
descent, and after several seconds had passed they were arrowing through
Dathomir's sky. Although none of them could see it yet, their target was a
deep canyon that, because of strong winds, was the safest air approach to the
fortress. 
        Less than a minute later, the _Rock Dragon_ set down on the valley
floor, overshadowed by the sheer wall of the fortress. Tenel Ka noted with
mild interest that there were some modern orbital defense turbolasers
positioned on the turrets overlooking them. The last time she had visited, a
team of Hapan engineers had been working on something, but she never had a
chance to find out what it was. At least she knew now.
        "I take it we're there?" a voice beside her said, interrupting her
thoughts. She turned and saw that it was Jacen, realizing after a moment had
passed that he'd never actually visited Dathomir. 
        "Uh..." Tenel Ka paused to collect herself. "Mostly there." She
pointed out the viewport at the base of a stair that wound up the sheer wall.
"We still have to climb that."
        His jaw dropped. "How many steps is that? A thousand?"
        "Roughly," she replied, smiling slightly as she saw his reaction. "It
was an old protection against invasion, although not always effective."
        "I suppose it keeps your clan in shape," Jacen managed to joke.
"Anyway, if it's that far, shouldn't we be getting started?"


        * * *


        "Tarb!" The voice from the cockpit was almost a shout. "Get up here
and have a look at this!"
        The Twi'lek stumbled into the cockpit moments later, still blinking to
clear his eyes. "What happened?"
        "The navicomputer pulled us out of hyperspace for a course change but
promptly crashed. I've been trying to bring it back up for the past hour."
        "And you called me in here because of that?" Tarb asked, starting to
sound annoyed.
        "No," Cathi, his copilot and navigator, replied as she pointed toward
the sensor displays. "I called you up here because of this." She switched the
cockpit holodisplay on, and instantly the slightly blurry image of an
Imperator-class Star Destroyer appeared.
        Tarb drew in a sharp breath through his pointed teeth. "Imperials?
Here?"
        Cathi paused a moment to consider. It would be unusual for them to
intrude so deeply into Republic territory, especially considering the
nonagression treaty that the Remnant had signed. "I don't think so. They're
not broadcasting any IFF, which is unusual for both the Imperials and the
Republic."
        "Pirates, then?" the Twi'lek smuggler suggested.
        "That's what I'm guessing," Cathi replied, throwing a cursory glance
to the holo. 
        Tarb muttered under his breath in his native language before switching
back to Basic. "And here we are, sitting mostly immobile and with a full load
of ryll. Is there any other good news?"
        The human shrugged. "I told you a few weeks ago that we needed to run
some full diagnostics on the navicomp."
        He glared back at her. "I'll take over from here. Why don't you go
into the hold and get the spice ready to dump if we have to?"
        Cathi shrugged as she stood to leave. "Whatever."

        Tarb leaned back into his seat and let out a long breath, staring at
the sensor display, which showed the Star Destroyer getting closer. Almost
from the start, he'd regretted his decision to partner with Cathi in
smuggling. Yes, she was capable, but she was also a smartass and generally a
pain to work with. Plus he also had to split his profits with her, which was
also galling. He could get a droid to do the same job just as well...
        Yes. That was it. He'd get rid of her, right now in fact, and blame it
as a mechanical accident in case anyone asked. She'd probably die anyway when
the pirates attacked.
        Reaching for his keys, he unlocked a hidden compartment beneath his
seat and pulled out one of several blaster pistols, then started toward the
cargo hold...

        As she affixed another remote detonator pack to one of the spice
crates, Cathi heard quiet footsteps coming down the hallway. "Tarb?" she
inquired without looking. "What's the matter?"
        "The Star Destroyer went to hyperspace for some reason," the Twi'lek
lied. "I came back here to tell you that you could stop."
        "Oh." She carefully deactivated the detpack and placed it atop the
spice crate, then turned around--
        --to find herself staring directly into the barrel of Tarb's blaster.
"W-wait, what happened?" she stammered.
        "Your contract's ended," he replied as he tightened his grip on the
pistol.
        "Hold on!" she uselessly tried to protest. "Couldn't you just let me
off on Nar Shadda or something?"
        "No, I'm sorry," Tarb said with a toothy grin. "It wouldn't work. You
know too much about me." He began to pull back on the trigger as her mind
raced...
        ... when the ship suddenly lurched as if from a turbolaser blast,
throwing Tarb off balance and sending his shot wild. Her adrenaline kicking
in, Cathi lunged for him and swatted his blaster arm aside. The Twi'lek was
nobody's fool, though, and as she brushed past his head he used his sharpened
teeth to tear a gash across her arm. She screamed in pain, and promptly
punched him full in the face, breaking his nose.
        Breathing heavily, Tarb threw her off and tried to bring his blaster
to bear again, but she swung out from her prone position, brought her boot
behind his knee, and kicked hard. There was a sharp crack as the bones broke,
sending him sprawling. He still clutched the blaster in his hand, and let off
an accidental shot that brushed past her. 
        Cathi dove for the blaster, but the Twi'lek rolled over and hit her in
the face with its butt. She cried out and redoubled her efforts, landing an
elbow in one of Tarb's sensitive head-tails. In reaction to the pain, his grip
on the blaster relaxed slightly, which she then kicked out of his hand. With
the Twi'lek in hot pursuit, she scrambled over to where the blaster had
landed, picked it up, and fired just as he lunged for her.
        Her shot hit him in his right shoulder instead of his chest, where she
would have preferred to hit. Cathi struggled to her feet, his teeth tearing
through the leg of her pants and into her leg. Gritting her teeth, she quickly
set the blaster on stun and fired down at him. As the stun blast wreaked havoc
on his nervous system, his grip on her leg relaxed and she tore free, bleeding
all over.
        The woman thought for a moment about what to do with him, and finally
started dragging his limp form back to the cockpit, where she shoved him into
the ship's only escape pod. After hitting the release switch and firing the
pod into space, she finally turned around and looked out the forward viewport.
        "Oh, kriff."


        * * *


        By the time the four Jedi reached the top of the stairway, Jacen was
wishing that he'd brought a speeder bike or something. He was already
exhausted from the walk, and beads of sweat dripped down his face. A quick
glance at Tenel Ka told him that although she might have been tired, she
definately wasn't showing it.
        At the door, they were met by two athletic young women, dressed in the
same style as Tenel Ka. When they saw her, they nodded and let the group in. 
        "We should see my great-grandmother first," Tenel Ka said as they
walked through the fortress. "She will likely welcome us."
        Too thirsty to speak, Jacen merely nodded and followed her through the
maze of passages inside the fortress until they came to what he assumed was
the chamber of the Council of Sisters. As they stepped inside, everybody came
to their feet, and a very old woman at the far end came to her feet.
        "You have returned, Tenel Ka Chume Ta' Djo," the old woman, who Jacen
immediately realized was Augwynne Djo, said in a motherly tone. "How are you?"
        "I am fine," Tenel Ka simply replied as Augwynne walked over and
embraced her. 
        The matriarch turned her attention to the rest of the Jedi. "And these
are...?"
        "Jacen, Jaina and Lowbacca," she responded as she pointed them out.
        "Ah, so this is that handsome young man you told me about," Augwynne
Djo said as she looked Jacen over. He was painfully aware of the fact that his
face was turning crimson as the wizened old matriarch spoke, and hurriedly
attempted to run through a relaxation technique. Although it was successful,
he realized that he hadn't been fast enough as she noticed the look on his
face.
        "Don't be ashamed, young man. Tenel Ka has excellent tastes in whom
she chooses. You're the first man she has captured."
        Jacen realized that his face was probably as red as Tenel Ka's hair by
this point. He bowed his head and let out a slight chuckle, then looked back
up in an attempt to regain face. "I am honored," he replied simply.
        "As well you should be. Now, my daughter's granddaughter," she turned
to Tenel Ka, "do you wish to have a marriage ceremony performed while you are
here?"
        Lowie let out what might have been the Wookiee equivalent of a
chuckle, while a look of horror came across Tenel Ka's face. After a long,
awkward pause, she burst out into peals of laughter. "Great-grandmother! I
have no plans to wed Jacen. He is merely an old friend from the Jedi Academy."
        "Ah, pardon my misunderstanding, Tenel Ka," Augwynne replied. "I had
forgotten that you dislike many of the old customs. Still, one could say that
there is more to the two of you than meets the eye."
        The two Jedi exchanged nervous glances as Augwynne cleared her throat.
"What is your full name, young man?"
        "Jacen Solo," he nervously replied.
        A look of puzzlement came across her face. "Are you related, then, to
Han Solo?"
        "He's my father."
        Augwynne chuckled softly. "Then you must know that your mother was
made an honorary member of our clan."
        Jacen's eyebrows shot up. "No, I didn't," he admitted.
        She continued. "And that your mother's brother was actually captured
by my granddaughter--Tenel Ka's mother--for marriage?"
        His jaw dropped slightly, and he shook his head.
        Augwynne smiled again. "It does not matter too much now," she said.
Teneniel, as you know, married Isolder from Hapes. Because of that, we are
now part of the Hapes Consortium, and thankfully supported by them.
        She turned to face Tenel Ka again. So, daughter, what brings you back
here?
        We are going to meet with a fighter squadron led by a Jedi, then
continue on to investigate some strange attacks in the Outer Rim.
        Explain.
        Tenel Ka paused for a moment. "There has been a string of attacks on
planets and ships through the Outer Rim, but nobody knows what's been causing
them. That's what we're going to try and figure out."
        A dangerous task," Augwynne mused. "How long will you be staying here
before you leave?"
        Less than a week," Jaina replied, feeling somewhat left out. "Perhaps
five days."
        "Ah," The matriarch nodded. "In that case, you are most welcome to
stay and rest. I believe you will need it."


        * * *


        So, Cathi realized as a white docking bay loomed ever closer, Tarb had
lied about the Star Destroyer. As if it was very surprising considering
everything else that had happened so far.
        As she watched, the comm suddenly came to life, nearly causing her to
hit her head on a control panel. "Attention unidentified freighter, this is
the Imperial Star Destroyer _Magistrate_. This is your last chance to respond
before you will be forcefully boarded."
        Cathi quickly hit the switch, and did her best to sound intimidated,
even though she wasn't really that scared. "I copy, _Magistrate_." She paused.
The only thing that really worried her was the load of first-grade ryll spice
aboard--enough to get her landed in prison or even executed on most planets.
Although she was now even more afraid, she put on a more normal tone.
"Actually, I'm kind of glad you found me. I was having some serious problems
with my navicomputer."
        The controller on the other end seemed to be taken slightly aback by
her change of attitude. "That will be discussed once you are taken into our
custody. In the meantime, you will drop your shields and prepare for boarding.
If you do not resist, you will not be harmed."
        I copy. Cathi looked about herself nervously. There was still the
blaster pistol in her hand; it wouldn't do for the Imperials to take that. She
knew that Tarb had kept a secret locker beneath his seat, but the key...
        She nearly hit herself in the head. She'd fired him out in the escape
pod, and hadn't bothered to remove that stuff first. Oh well; if and when she
got back to civilization she'd have a new key made. Maybe there was somewhere
else she could store it...
        Naturally, she realized. There were other smuggling compartments that
she had helped to build into the ship. In a flash, she was heading down the
corridor toward one of the shielded compartments, where she deposited the
blaster before returning to the cockpit. 
        Once back in the cockpit, she dropped the shields and extended the
landing gear. There wasn't any sense in antagonizing the Imperials when you
were this much at their mercy. A drawn-out shudder informed her that the ship
had been deposited on the deck of the hangar, and she quickly hit the switch
to drop the loading ramp, then put the ship into standby.
        Come out with your arms up, the amplified voice of a stormtrooper
barked outside. She complied and slowly walked down the ramp, where two of the
troopers immediately put cuffs on her. The rest of the team marched into the
freighter, and her heart sank.
        Several minutes later, the team returned and handed their commanding
officer a datapad. He glanced over its contents, then nodded at the two
troopers restraining Cathi. Place her in Detention for now. I'm sure the
Commodore will be interested in this.


        Cathi was surprised when, less than an hour after she had been given
medical treatment and put in a holding cell, the door slid open. She looked up
and noticed that the stormtroopers who had opened the door were high-ranking
ones, at least judging by the color of their pauldrons. And standing behind
them... a _Chiss_? She blinked in surprise at the person's appearance. He had
to be a Chiss; there was no other way to explain his blue skin and the eyes
that seemed to shine with a brilliant red. Judging by his rank cylinders, he
also had the rather lowly rank of Commodore, which was a far cry from the only
other Chiss officer she'd heard existed in the Imperial Navy. She mentally
shrugged. You saw strange things everyday as a smuggler.
        The Commodore stepped inside of the cell, bowing his head to keep from
banging it on the door. She studied him as he stopped, noting the air that he
kept about himself. 
        He held up the datapad which she'd seen the stormtrooper sergeant take
from his squad, and begin looking at it. My information tells me that you are
Cathi Riclin, standard age 25, and copilot of the light freighter _Headwind_,
he began.
        Correct.
        It also tells me that you were carrying two metric tons of
first-grade ryll spice, packed into six crates.
        She nodded. Also correct.
        He continued. I am also sure that you know the penalty for smuggling
spice in both the Republic and Empire is life in prison or death.
        Yes, she replied with a note of hesitance. Why was he telling her
all this?
        Allow me to introduce myself, the Chiss commodore continued. I am
Commodore Mantrel, and I am commander of a small taskforce of which this Star
Destroyer is the flagship.
        She raised an eyebrow. It was fairly common knowledge that the amount
of Star Destroyers left in the Remnant proper had dropped to below 200. To
still control one was considered nothing short of amazing.
        You may wonder why I am speaking to you instead of attending to other
duties. The reason is this: I am going to let you go free with your ship.
Without the spice, of course.
        She felt her jaw drop slightly in shock. Why? she managed.
        Well, I see you're a resourceful woman. We retrieved the escape pod
that you launched before being boarded, and have the captain of your  vessel
in bacta and awaiting further interrogation. It seems that he tried to kill
you, but you managed to disarm and stun him. Is that correct?
        Yes.
        I will let you draw your own conclusions concerning my motives, then.
But for now, you are free again. I would highly recommend that you leave as
soon as possible. Our engineers have already finished repairing your
navicomputer, so you will not have any problems departing.
        Thank you, she managed.
        It is but a small favor. You will also find a very small gift inside
your ship, one that will hopefully support you for a time. He turned and
stepped outside the cell, then talked to the two stormtroopers. One came in
and promptly escorted her out. Her head was swimming.

        Uneventfully, she boarded her ship and began the warmup, and ran
through the steps that they had given her before she left.
        Finally, she tapped the comm. Star Destroyer _Magistrate_, this is
the freighter _Headwind_ requesting permission to leave.
        A moment later, the reply came. Permission granted, _Headwind_. Do
not stray from appointed flight path.
        Affirmative. She eased back on the controls, and the YT-2400
freighter glided out of the bay and into space. When she was clear, she
increased the throttle and wondered what to do next.
        The realization hit her like a thunderbolt. With the loss of the spice
(not to mention Tarb) the Twi'lek clans would likely put out a large bounty
for her. 
        She quickly came to a decision. Closing her eyes, she started tapping
the coordinate input for the navicomputer at random. When it beeped, she
stopped and reached for the manual hyperdrive activators, then pulled back.
        It was better to be lost forever in hyperspace than to be captured and
forced to work in the Ryloth spice mines, she reflected as pseudomotion caused
the stars to streak as the ship entered hyperspace. At least death this way
was painless.



                              Chapter Ten
                              -----------


        STRETCHING AND YAWNING, Jacen sat up from the crude mattress lying
on the ground and turned to look out the window. The blue-tinted sunlight
was already starting to drift across most of the fortress, as he noticed
through a window. He checked his chronometer; it was earlier than he would
normally wake up on Yavin IV. Oh, well. He'd been awaking at sunrise every
day since they came to Dathomir.
        He looked about himself, and noted that Tenel Ka had already woken
up and left. Briefly, he wondered where she had gone before he got into
his utilitarian jumpsuit and wandered outside. Probably hunting with her
clansisters, he decided. She'd mentioned that it had been years since she
had last done that sort of thing, and they'd be leaving tomorrow... 
        As Jacen wandered outside the room that had been provided for
them, a faint sound caught his ear, and he moved his head to see if he
could identify the source. He frowned at the distance, squinting to try
and see a little better. After a moment, he gave up and instead focused
with the Force.
        "Huh," he muttered after a moment. "They weren't supposed to be
here until tomorrow." Jacen spun around and headed back inside to wake his
sister and Lowbacca.

        Slightly less than an hour later, the four Jedi were assembled in
the landing field below the fortress, where Kyp had landed his
starfighter. Lowbacca was first to greet Kyp with a deafening roar as the
group walked toward him.
        "Kyp!" Jaina said. "You're early. What happened?"
        The older Jedi turned around from his XJ. "We've got to leave as
soon as possible. Some new things came through while we were at base."
        "What?" Jacen's surprise was clearly evident. "I didn't think it
was this serious."
        "Well, you know now," Kyp replied sharply. "Where's your ship?"
        "It's on the landing pad at the top of the fortress," Tenel Ka
answered.
        "Good. Make sure that you can leave as soon as we're done down
here." He caught his breath and continued. "Anyway, we got some more
information on the attacks. One of the first victims was a guy named Urias
Xhaxin, as you might recall." Kyp paused for a moment to tell something to
his astromech, then turned back to the group. "From the information I
found, he's actually a rather notorious pirate in the sector. His base of
operations is a Nebulon-B frigate, which seems to have had a lot of
illegitimate upgrades."
        "He's a _pirate_? Jacen asked incredulously. "Then why send out a
distress signal?"
        "Lure another victim or two in, perhaps," Jaina answered for him.
"It sounds suspicious."
        "Normally, I'd agree," Kyp stated. "But the odd thing is that he
used his real name and identity in the distress call. Unless he suddenly
had a death wish, that doesn't make any sense."
        "We should go in with our shields and weapons powered up, at
least," Jaina persisted.
        "I know," he replied. "We will, trust me. But there were some
other things I need to tell you about. First, I talked with your parents,
who told me that they're sick of Coruscant and are going to be moving out
this way, to some backwater called Sernpidal." He handed Jacen, who was
standing nearest, a datachip. "That has the coordinates for the planet, as
well as the location of their new house."
        "Why would they do that?" Jaina interjected.
        Kyp shrugged. "They didn't give me much in the way of details, but
I gathered that your mother was sick of politics, not to mention all the
media attention following her resignation."
        The flat-domed R6 in the socket of Kyp's starfighter chose that
moment to interrupt the conversation with a loud twitter. Kyp threw the
droid a glare and continued. 
        "I also talked with several Extragalactic Society executives, who
informed me that they still haven't received anything from ExGal 4. So,
after we check out Xhaxin's distress call we'll be traveling to Belkadan.
Sound good?"
        "I... suppose so," Jaina answered after several moments had
passed. "In that case, we'll rendezvous with your squadron up in orbit."
        "Good," Kyp said as his gaze moved across all of them. "Just so
you know, I really appreciate this. May the Force be with you." He leapt
to the top of the starfighter as the four Jedi watched him. With a
high-pitched whine, the X-wing lifted off, accelerated, and vanished into
the sky.
        "I don't know about you," Jacen said quietly to his sister after
Kyp had left, "but I've got a bad feeling about this."

                                 * * *

        Cathi stared blankly at the twisting maelstrom that was the 'sky'
of hyperspace, her mind churning. She'd dozed off in the pilot's chair the
previous day, and when she woke up, she was naturally very surprised to
find out that the freighter hadn't crashed into anything yet. Her hand,
rougher than one might expect for a woman of her age because of all the
mechanical work she'd performed, hovered over the manual hyperdrive
controls as she debated in her mind whether to drop out of hyperspace or
not.
        _No_, she finally decided. She'd just let it take her where it
would, and not worry about it. _But_, another part of her mind said,
_isn't that what you decided yesterday?_ Cathi uncertainly reached for the
hyperdrive controls once again, but stayed her hand before she touched
them. 
        "What am I doing?" she wondered aloud. There was no guarantee,
after all, that a bounty hunter would even find her in the first place.
The galaxy was a big place for a lone smuggler to hide, and she could
always change her name, have reconstructive surgery, or do something else
to disappear. Still, her mind debated the issue for several minutes before
she reached a conclusion.
        "All right," she whispered, and reached for the hyperdrive
controls yet again.
        Her hand was only halfway there when the navicomputer bleeped a
warning and cut in the safeties, dropping the ship out. She quickly moved
her hand and silenced the alarms, looking out the viewport to see exactly
what the heck had happened.
        "Wonderful," she said to no-one in particular. "I ran into a black
hole's mass shadow."
        Cathi spent the next several minutes running diagnostics and
checking things to see how badly her ship was damaged. Much to her
surprise, most of the systems seemed to be intact. She silently thanked
herself for not disabling the hyperdrive safeties.
        As she was looking over the control panels, the sensor panel
caught her eye. Most of the data related to the black hole's emissions,
but one thing stood out: a distress signal that was very close. She
switched to audio and played it.
        "Attention any nearby ships," the recording began. "This is
Outbound Flight Shuttle One requesting assistance. Ship is disabled and
currently in degrading orbit of a black hole. Please acknowledge. Message
repeats."
        Had her jaw not been attached to her head, it would have hit the
deck at that instant. Of course she had heard of the Outbound Flight. Who
hadn't? Like most stories of lost ships, over the years it had garnered a
great deal of mystery. Some people insisted that the Project had
succeeded. Others, who had heard about Grand Admiral Thrawn's involvement
during that time, claimed that it had been destroyed.
        And now she was hearing a distress signal that purported to be
from one of its shuttles. For a moment she wondered if it was a quirk of
the black hole, somehow preserving the subspace message through gravity.
Her mind discarded it a moment later when she double-checked the sensors.
They definitely showed a ship, by the looks of it an earlier Cygnus
Spaceworks design, stranded in the black hole's accretion disk.
        Thumbing the comm to transmit, she picked up a handset and spoke
into it. "Outbound Flight Shuttle One, this is the independent freighter
_Headwind._ I have just received your distress call and may be able to
provide the assistance you require. Please acknowledge."
        The reply came a little over five minutes later, and by its sound,
the speaker was rather relieved. "Freighter _Headwind,_ I copy. My
hyperdrive was blown when I went through the wormhole. What kind of
assistance can you provide?"
        Cathi frowned. What wormhole was he talking about? "I don't happen
to be carrying any spare parts for a hyperdrive of your age, but I might
be able to give you a ride."
        "That'll do," the other person replied. "Can you dock with my
ship?"
        "I should be able to," she said after a moment's pause. "This is a
Corellian YT-2400, and it has a standard docking ring. I take it yours has
one as well?"
        "It does," the man answered.
        "I'll start the docking process immediately, then," Cathi said.
"Make sure your shields are down first."
        "They failed a long time ago," the man said. "At least the hull
blocks most of the radiation."
        Cathi didn't bother to reply, but instead started jockeying her
freighter toward the old shuttle. As she neared it, she nodded. It was
definitely a pre-Clone Wars design, one rarely seen now. 
     Once she was next to the shuttle, she used the YT-2400's maneuvering
jets to line up with the docking port and finally attach. She could hear a
slight clang as the two ships connected, and breathed a sigh of relief.
        "I've finished the docking process," she said into the comm. "You
can come across the docking tube and I'll meet you on my end."
        "Sounds good," the reply came almost immediately. "I'm looking
forward to seeing a familiar face again. Shuttle One out."
        The smuggler hesitated before leaving the cockpit, but managed to
calm her fears and stepped out into the corridor that led to the access
hatch. When she heard knocking from the other side, she drew her blaster
and pointed it at the hatch, then activated the release switch. The hatch
promptly irised open, allowing a surprisingly young-looking blond-haired
head to emerge. 
        Her mind churned in bewilderment as the man took in his
surroundings. It had been over fifty years since the Clone Wars had ended,
and anybody from the Outbound Flight that had survived should have been in
his seventies. Yet this man seemed to be only in his late thirties...
        The unknown man paused when he saw her blaster. "You can put that
away," he said in a calm tone after a moment had passed. "I don't think
you'll find me to be much of a problem."
        As an amazed Cathi watched herself put the blaster back in its
holster, the man easily climbed out of the access hatch. It was then that
she noticed his attire: a flowing brown robe that hung to the floor.
        "Jedi," she whispered before raising her voice. "You're one of the
six Jedi that were aboard the Outbound Flight, aren't you?"
        He nodded. "I'm Master Dellen, historian for the Outbound Flight.
And you are?"
        "Cathi Riclin," she replied. "I'm just a freighter pilot, nothing
special."
        "Pleased to meet you," Dellen replied in a conversational tone.
"So what's a small freighter doing this far away from the major trade
routes?"
        "Long story," Cathi muttered. When he looked at her inquisitively,
she continued. "I got captured by some rogue Star Destroyer a few days
ago. They took all of my cargo as well as the owner of this ship, but for
some reason set me free shortly after." She paused for a long moment.
"Well, after that I didn't know what to do, so I made a random jump into
hyperspace and wound up here."
        He shrugged. "Random jumps are pretty dangerous. You must have
survived because the Force wanted you to." 
        "What's that mean?" she asked, thoroughly confused.
        Dellen took a deep breath. "It means that the Force works in
mysterious ways. What might seem like a random chance may have actually
been made that way by the Force."
        "Really," Cathi managed to say. _So he's saying that the Force
wanted me to be here just so that I could pick him up?_
        "That's about it," Dellen said, shocking her out of her senses.
Seeing her surprise, he smiled. "You should stop thinking so loudly."
        Now she remembered why most smugglers detested Jedi. Well, there
wasn't much she could do now with one aboard her ship. "All right, so
where do you want me to take you?"
        "Coruscant," Dellen replied almost without pause. "But I need to
get my belongings out of the shuttle first. Why don't you run the course
through the navicomputer?"
        "Uh..." She hesitated. "I suppose I can do that. Do you need any
help moving your stuff?"
        "No, but thank you." Dellen disappeared down the tube, leaving her
to mull over her thoughts. The navicomputer was fast enough that she could
wait almost until they were ready to leave before starting the
calculations.
        Less than a minute had passed when Dellen emerged from the tube
carrying a small crate. "Still here?" he asked in mild surprise. "I'm
ready to go. The shuttle's shut down completely and all my belongings are
in here."
        "Already?" Cathi asked. "I thought you were carrying more than
that."
        The Jedi shook his head. "I travel lightly."
        "Well," she took a breath, "then let's go. I need a copilot; do
you mind?"
        "Not at all," Dellen said, holding up the crate. "Where should I
put this?"
        "Oh..." She thought for a moment before coming to a decision.
"Just leave it in the sleeping quarters. They're one door down on the left
side."
        "Thanks. Why don't you uncouple the ships in the meantime? I
sealed mine already." He was gone down the corridor in an instant, leaving
Cathi staring at her hands and wondering if he'd tried using one of his
Jedi tricks on her. She shook her head, sealed the hatch, and decided to
disconnect the ships from the cockpit.

                                 * * *

        In less than a standard hour after they had met with Kyp, the
_Rock Dragon_ was back in space, hurtling through hyperspace toward the
last known location of Urias Xhaxin. 
        "What doesn't make sense about this," Jacen said as he walked down
the short corridor leading to the cockpit, "is why anybody would conduct
this kind of attack." He waved his hands emphatically. "I mean, look at
the targets so far: a scientific research station, a pirate ship, and an
archaeological expedition on some unsettled planet."
        Jaina regarded him with a bemused look. "We don't even know if
Belkadan and Xhaxin are related to Bimmiel. As far as we know, ExGal 4
could have had a communications problem, while Xhaxin's probably just
trying to lure prey in. Maybe the aliens on Bimmiel are just some local
pirate group themselves!"
        He shrugged as they stepped into the transport's hold (or lounge,
depending on what it was functioning as). Neither Tenel Ka nor Lowbacca
were there, but that was to be expected since both were still in the
cockpit. "That's a possibility, but..."
        "We'll find out when we get there, won't we," Jaina cut him off.
        Jacen glared at his sister. "I'd still like to have some idea of
what's going on before we get into the middle of things. So far we're only
going on sketchy information."
        "I know - _We_ know, Jacen." She paused for a moment. "I'm just as
nervous as you are about this. But we don't have any choice now; we're
going to arrive in a few hours." Jaina gave him a friendly pat on the
back. "Try not to worry about it. I'm going to head back to the cockpit
and see if Tenel Ka or Lowbacca need to do anything."
        "That will not be necessary," a voice behind her said. "The
navicomputer will give us fair warning before we exit hyperspace."
        The twins turned about to face Tenel Ka, standing as alert as she
typically did. She inclined a single eyebrow. "Of course, there is always
the danger of pirates, but with the Dozen-and-Two Avengers nearby, I would
hope that any would-be attackers might realize discretion is the better
part of valour."
        "They wouldn't even know what hit them," Jacen jokingly commented.
"At least judging by the attitudes of Kyp's pilots," he hastily added in
response to a slightly confused look from the warrior.
        "Ah," Tenel Ka nodded. "Aha."
        "If they would spend as much time working on their piloting as
massaging their egos, they would rival Rogue Squadron," Jaina added
derisively. "Brand-new XJs or not, I really wouldn't want to fly in a
squadron like that."
        "And I thought you looked almost eager when Kyp asked you if you
wanted to join his squadron."
        Jaina spun about to face her brother, irritation clearly evident
on her face. "Maybe I was, for a moment. You should know that I've always
wanted to fly in a professional squadron... but the Avengers are really
just amateurs with fancy hardware."
        He raised his eyebrows. "Have to admit, they've done a pretty good
job against pirates for a bunch of amateurs."
        "Hah. Pirates," she remarked scornfully. "They're nothing compared
to a professional military force." Her tone changed slightly, gaining a
worried edge. "Although that does have me concerned; if you're right and
this isn't just some third-rate group that's been causing trouble, then we
are going to have serious problems."

        By the time the navicomputer signaled that reversion from
hyperspace was imminent, the four Jedi were in their positions and the
ship was ready, its deflectors and sensors already powered up and waiting.
Jaina had taken over piloting, with Tenel Ka sitting in the copilot's
seat; while she couldn't easily fly with only one arm, running the
navicomputer and various other systems was far from difficult.
        "We're powered up and ready," Jacen reported from the port laser
turret. A Wookiee roar, which needed no translation, echoed him.
        "Standby," Tenel Ka reported, her voice sounding smooth despite
the stress that all of them were facing. She waited for the navicomputer
to count down...
        The _Rock Dragon_ smoothly decelerated, the mottled sky of
hyperspace gradually streaking and then turning into a field of points.
        "Avengers, report in," Tenel Ka said over the comm.
        "We're all accounted for," Kyp's voice responded. "Nothing's
turned up on passive sensors yet."
        A collective sigh of relief came from the four Jedi aboard the
transport. "I'll run a full-power scan," Jaina commented, her hands flying
across the console. "It should show anything that's sensor-stealthed."
        After a short period of time, she spoke up again. "I've got what
looks like a debris cloud, range about ten thousand klicks. No lifesigns
anywhere. Transmitting the vector right now."

        As they neared the debris field, the Jedi aboard the _Rock Dragon_
heard a long, drawn-out whistle come across the com. "Looks like this
pirate won't be making any more raids." 
        A reply came from Kyp almost immediately. "Those Nebulon-B
frigates aren't exactly easy kills," he said. "At least for most ships out
here on the Rim."
        Jacen stared out the forward viewport, wondering about the
dispersed debris field. Whatever was passing through his mind was
interrupted by his sister.
        Keying the com on, Jaina spoke into it. "Avengers, this is Jaina.
I'm going to use the _Rock Dragon_ to try and collect debris to obtain a
serial number." She switched it off, turning to Lowbacca. "Lowie, I need
you to use the tractor beam. Drag in anything that looks promising."    
        The Wookiee urfed a reply as Jaina got up, giving the controls to
her brother. She turned to exit the cockpit. "I'll be in the main hold. If
there's nothing on whatever you bring in, I'll dump it back."
        "Got it," Jacen replied, focusing on the debris through the Force,
trying to see if there was anything that drew his attention. A few minutes
later, he noticed a small piece that seemed mostly intact, and snagged it
with the tractor beam. 
        "Good catch," an excited voice echoed from the hold. "It has some
numbers on it, but I'm not quite sure what it's from." There was silence
for a moment. "Jacen, can you come here and take a look at this?"
        Jacen stood up, leaving Tenel Ka and Lowie  with the task of
flying the ship. Moments later, he reached the hold.
        "Take a look at these," Jaina commented, pointing towards a set of
deep scratches in the plate. "I could almost swear that these are tooth
marks."
        He knelt down, inspecting the plate. 'You're right," Jacen
eventually agreed. "That's kind of odd, though. I don't think there would
be any space slugs this far from an asteroid, and they're about the only
organic I can think of that could do this kind of damage. 

                                 * * *

        The atmosphere was uncomfortably silent aside from the humming of
machinery as Cathi and Dellen secured themselves into the cockpit.
Finally, Dellen broke the silence. "I think we're ready to leave. I'm not
quite sure, though, since this navicomp is a little different from what
I'm used to," he admitted.
        Cathi leaned over and looked at the display. "Yeah, it's correct,"
she affirmed. "Well, then, let's get out of here." She checked the status
displays one last time to make sure that everything was good. Moments
later, the ship jumped to hyperspace.
        Far behind them, the shuttle continued its slow spiral toward the
source of the gravity.

                                 * * *

        "That's kind of an interesting idea," Kyp mused. "Whatever it was,
it was pretty thorough, I'll admit."
        "So what's our next stop going to be?" Jaina asked.
        "I think Belkadan should be next," the reply came. "Our fuel
reserves are still good, but we should probably stop at Sernpidal
afterwards."
        Jaina agreed. "That sounds good. I'll program that into the
computer."

                                 * * *

        A fairly young human lieutenant entered the bridge of the ISD
/Magistrate/, walked up to the Commodore, and snapped off a salute. 
        "Permission to speak, sir?"
        "Granted," the Commodore replied, still facing the windows.
"Sir," the lieutenant started, "we've received a signal from the tracer on
the smuggler's ship."
        "Good." Mantrel turned around to face the lieutenant. "What is its
location?"
        "That seems to be the problem," the lieutenant replied. "The
signal traced to a location near an unstable black hole system. There is
no record of any base being located there." He handed the Commodore a
datapad.
        "Interesting," Mantrel mused. "Captain Ollic?"
        "Yes, Sir?"
        The Commodore passed the datapad to Ollic. "Have the /Magistrate/
prepared for hyperspace. I want to be at these coordinates as soon as
possible."
        "Yes, Sir."






CHAPTER ELEVEN


	A HEAVY silence descended over the conference room on Voyager as
former captain Kathryn Janeway entered, escorted by several security
personnel. Most of the other senior staff of both the Outbound Flight and
Voyager were already assembled and waiting at the conference table.

	"Well," Chakotay sighed, looking the information on his PADD over,
"seeing that we're all here, I call this meeting to order." He waited for
Janeway to take her seat, then continued. "The first topic on the agenda
is what course of action we will take when we reach Federation space."

	He waited for the room to calm down. "As all of you doubtlessly
know, several of our own crew are not from the Federation. Given that two
of those crew members are present now, I am interested in hearing your
opinions on coming to the Federation."

	Neelix was the first to speak. "Sir, as the ship's cook, you might
be aware that..." He paused to wet his lips. "Several of the crew have
suggested that I take I come to Earth to take cooking courses. I've
seriously considered this, and after much thought I have decided that I
would like to attend a culinary arts institute in Paris."

	Some of the Voyager staff gave knowing smiles, and there was a
weak attempt at applause. Chakotay merely nodded. "That takes care of one.
Lieutenant-Commander Seven of Nine, what is your feeling on this matter?"

	"I am amenable to returning to the Federation," Seven answered.
"The Delta Quadrant no longer holds any appeal for me."

	"What? No long speech?" someone jokingly commented.

	She gave the speaker a cold stare. "That would be unnecessary,"
Seven replied.

	Chakotay, ignoring the side conversation, turned his attention
toward the Republic personnel. "So that's settled, then. Now..." He paused
to recall the correct title for the Jedi. "Master C'baoth, what are your
own plans for when we reach Federation space?"

	"As I have stated before, we will open talks with the Federation
on behalf of the Galactic Republic. My hope is that those talks will be
successful in creating mutual amnesty between the two governments."

	"That's all good and well," Chakotay agreed, looking past C'baoth
to one of the other Jedi. "But what will you do if you can't get into
contact with the Republic?"

	The room was silent for several long moments. Then, finally,
Master Fernas spoke. "That is a possibility that we have always been
prepared for. However, as some of you are no doubt aware, two weeks ago I
sent Master Dellen back through the wormhole to contact the Republic. If
all goes well, he will be able to bring the information I gave him to the
Council and the Senate. Then it is our hope that they are able to mount a
resupply mission for us."

	C'baoth cast a thoughtful glance at Fernas. "Providing that the
instabilities in the Republic have not overwhelmed it in the seventy years
we have been absent, of course. You certainly remember the incidents
surrounding the Trade Federation and Naboo."

	"Naturally." Fernas folded his arms on the conference table. "But
what is done is done, and now we may only hope that Master Dellen has
reached Coruscant successfully."

	After Chakotay had determined that further discussion had ended,
he continued, turning to the Doctor. "Now, we need to move on to the next
topic: what we will do about our Captain. Doctor, I believe this is your
area of expertise."

	"Indeed it is," the hologram, who to the Jedi seemed a little too
at home in the conference room, replied. "Given the Captain's earlier
behavior, I am inclined to keep her in Sickbay for further monitoring, but
you did make the point that further confinement may only worsen the
situation, and suggested that we merely keep a security detail around her.
I have considered this, and it is my conclusion that perhaps we should
have one of the Jedi keep watch over her. A lone Jedi should be far less
intrusive than a team of security officers."

	Chakotay was silent for a while, deep in thought. Finally, he
turned toward Master C'baoth. "What do you think of the Doctor's
proposal?"

	"It would be possible, given that the duration is only a week,"
C'baoth said. "However, it would be more appropriate for a woman to watch
her, which leaves only one person. Master Foornil, what is your response?"

	The attention of everyone in the room shifted to the black-haired
Corellian, whose appearance seemed more suited to the exotic fashions of
an entertainment diva rather than the dull robes of a Jedi. "Better than
sitting around another week, I suppose," she nonchalantly commented. "I
can do it."

	The Doctor looked at Janeway. "And what does the patient think of
this?" he asked.

	Janeway sighed. "I can live with it," she said, but there was no
mistaking the doubt and resentment in her voice. "But I still think this
is completely unnecessary."

	"If you had not broken out of Sickbay, hijacked the Delta Flyer,
and then destroyed it in the asteroid field, we might have gone a bit
easier on you," Chakotay said in as calm a tone as he could manage. Paris
was still angry with Janeway for destroying the Flyer, and Chakotay didn't
blame him. "However, given your actions, we have no choice according to
Starfleet regulations."

	"That I understand," she replied. "What I am questioning was the
original decision that you and the rest of the command crew came to when I
ordered that we break contact with the Republic diplomats. My decision was
well-grounded, and as far as I am concerned, sound."

	Chakotay held up his hand. "We discussed this in private before,
Janeway. I would prefer not to have a repeat of that discussion. The fact
is that, thanks to the assistance of the Republic ship and its crew, we
have only a week left before we reach Federation space. If we had followed
your orders unquestioningly, it would still take us over fifty years to
return."

	"That's beside the point and you know it, Chakotay. Our engineers
fitted a warp drive system to one of the Republic shuttles, which is a
clear contradiction of the Prime Directive. Not all of your decisions are
sound."
	He sighed. "Janeway, you may have noticed that the technology
level of the Republic is far in excess of our own technology, at least
where drive systems are concerned. After looking through the historical
databanks aboard the Bulk Cruiser, we found that a form of warp drive was
used in the Republic several thousands of years ago, before the invention
of their hyperdrive. Therefore, we were not violating the Prime Directive
by repairing a shuttle."

	After a long pause, C'baoth spoke. "Captain Janeway," he addressed
her by her formal title, "I understand your concerns about us. However,
your laws bind you as our laws bind us. My crew had nothing to do with the
decision of your command staff, and we cannot change their minds. Please
accept their decision."

	"Very well," Janeway said after a long period of silence. "I
accept the consequences of my actions."

	Chakotay nodded. "Then this meeting is adjourned."




	Several hours after the meeting, Captain Avin found himself
wandering toward the turbolift, the recent issues pressing in his mind.
"Level 17, Computer Operations," he instructed the turbolift in a rather
uninterested tone.

	Moments later, the door slid open into the computer operations
center. Dozens of droids of various sorts were moving about the room,
while a couple of technicians sat at consoles working on various
projects... or playing games, Avin decided after watching one of them for
a few seconds. He walked across the room, avoiding the whirring and
whizzing droids, and entered a low hallway slung with data cables of
various sizes and lengths. Finally, he came to a metal door with a rather
prominent "DO NOT DISTURB" sign affixed to the outside of it. Ignoring the
sign, he knocked.

	"Go away," a muffled voice within said.

	"This is Captain Avin," Avin addressed the person inside, "and
you'd better open that door unless you want a courtmartial effective now."

	The door immediately slid open, and Avin stepped into a rather
badly lit room-or, as he ducked some more cables, perhaps closet would fit
it better. The air smelled of burned circuits, and a thin haze of smoke
seemed to cover the place. Packs of datachips were scattered around the
room, along with various other bits of equipment that Avin could only
guess as to the origins of.

	"Sorry, Sir." Moments later, a black-haired head emerged from
behind an equipment rack. "I thought it was one of the junior techs.
They've been bugging me all day." The person, a rather short and
light-skinned human, stepped out and brushed his hands off. "What brings
you here?" he asked informally.

	"Just business," Avin ambiguously answered. "By the way,
Lieutenant Reco, what is that smell?"

	"Oh, that." Ph'ngu Reco tried to laugh, but only wound up
coughing. "One of the droids blew its motivator. Running for around sixty
years without any maintenance did wonders for its circuitry. Anyway, I've
ordered the rest of those droids to be checked."

	"Good call," the Captain agreed. "You ought to get some better
atmosphere circulation in here, though."

	"It doesn't bother me too much, Sir," Ph'ngu replied with another
cough as he stuck a fan in the doorway and turned it on. "I might as well
save the air recirculators for the more populated parts of the ship."

	"I see." Avin looked down at his feet, which had accidentally
become tangled in a coil of wires. He shook the wires off and stepped into
a clearer area. "And you might want to see about tidying this place up,
too."

	"Yes, Sir. But I don't believe that tidyness is what you came here
to talk about."

	"No, it's just something I noticed," Avin replied in a
less-than-happy tone. "There are no taps here, right?"

	"As far as I can tell, no," Ph'ngu replied. "Why do you ask?"
	The Captain walked back to the door, moved the fan inside, and
closed the door. Turning back to the tech, he spoke. "I want you to slice
Voyager's main computer. I'm only interested in information on their
former captain. And do nothing that might alert the attention of their
officers."

	"I can probably do that," the slicer answered in a tone that
suggested that cracking alien computer systems was something he did every
day. "How soon do you want the information?"

	"As soon as possible," Avin responded. "We drop out of hyperspace
about a week from now, so you'll have to at least finish it by then."

	Ph'ngu nodded. "That should be possible, but don't take my word
for it. I've got a bunch of other jobs to finish first. For sure, I'll
have it by the deadline."

	The Captain turned around to exit. "I appreciate your efforts. And
for the record, we never had this conversation."

	The slicer smiled wanly. "I'm used to not having conversations.
Don't worry about me."


                                * * *


	Leading the taskforce was a spacecraft that had perhaps started
off life as a Rendili bulk freighter, although it showed little
resemblance to its roots now. Warship-grade armor plating had been welded
on in many critical places, lending the hull a patchy appearance. A large
hangar bay had been built into the ventral hull where the cargo retainers
had once been, and extra turbolaser cannons dotted the hull at seemingly
random intervals.

	Most of the other ships in the group looked no better; if
anything, many of them looked worse. Four appeared to have once been
corvettes or perhaps gunships of Corellian origin, although of hopelessly
outmoded design. They, too, had been extensively modified with almost
current galactic technology, armor and weapons. Rounding out the taskforce
were ships no larger than a typical medium freighter, ships that may have
been mistaken as belonging to smugglers were it not for the strange
insiginia appearing on all of the ships.

	In stark contrast to this motley group, the force that they were
approaching was much cleaner and newer. In a tight formation around a
comet, it consisted of a recent-manufacture Rendili Star Dreadnaught, a
couple Loronar frigates and eleven corvettes, all anodized the same matte
gray. The anodization was reminiscent of the recently vanished Dark Force,
and it was entirely possible that the Dreadnaught at the core was from
that ill-fated fleet.

	The first force, while ragged in appearance, was anything but
ragged when it came to coordination and thus drew inexorably nearer to the
second force. Whether this was the comet or the other taskforce remained
unknown... for the time being.

	Once the attackers had closed to a range that could be measured in
the hundreds of thousands of kilometers, they suddenly did something that
at least seemed unexpected by the other force: they jumped to hyperspace.
Mere microseconds later, chaos broke out in the formerly composed black
taskforce, as the bulk freighter and its escorts re-emerged from
hyperspace around the comet and inside the other force's formation at
point blank range, guns blazing and starfighters launching. Not all of the
attackers were lucky or coordinated enough to escape damage, however; one
Loronar was surrounded in a blossoming fireball as a medium freighter came
out of hyperspace on top of it. With its bridge and upper hull plating
shorn off by the violent collision, the frigate somewhat ponderously went
into a collision course with the comet's nucleus.

	By now the battle was in full swing. With only a token starfighter
defense, the defenders found themselves hard-pressed to ward off the
strange attackers. Although they managed to destroy several of their
adversaries, it soon became apparent which side the battle was tipping in
favor of. Finally, with the hull of his command ship breached and the rest
of his force devestated, the commander surrendered.

	This surrender came as a surprise to many in the attacking group,
but there was one person who was never surprised by anything. This person
was now standing on the bridge of the Dreadnaught, having boarded it a few
minutes before with many escorts.

	This person was known in his native tongue as Syndic
Mitth'raw'nurodo.

	Mantrel followed Thrawn down a corridor, accompanied by a squad of
charric-wielding troops. They eventually reached the bridge of the
Dreadnaught, which had already been secured by the Chiss soldiers. In a
show of courtesy, Thrawn inclined his head slightly toward the defeated
commander. "Your crews put up a worthy fight, and I commend you on that,"
Thrawn said in almost imperceptibly accented Basic. "As my name is very
difficult to pronounce in your language, you may know me simply as
Thrawn."

	The other commander blinked, his face clearly displaying shock.
Eventually he gathered enough nerve to speak. "And I am Kinman Doriana of
the Galactic Republic."

	Thrawn immediately got down to business, as Mantrel was used to
him doing. "In that case, what brings a commander of the Republic Navy so
far away from Coruscant?"

	Doriana nervously licked his lips as he prepared to speak.
Mantrel, inexperienced as he was, could tell when somebody was relying on
their last gambit. "We have been tracking several wanted fugitives of the
Republic," the commander went on to say, "and with some advance knowledge
we had set up an ambush at this location."

	"Thus explaining the comet," Thrawn concluded. "Although it seems
to have backfired on you."

	The Republic commander gritted his teeth. "Indeed it did. Our
quarry is still two weeks away from here. If you are planning on giving
them refuge in your territory, I'm afraid that you've succeeded."

	"Far from it," Thrawn replied, noticing the commander's eyes widen
slightly. "We are part of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force, and are
tasked with destroying any unauthorized intruders into our space, no
matter where their allegiances lay."

	Hope began to dawn on Doriana's face. "Then you will also destroy
these fugitives?"

	"Since you were so kind as to mention it, that will likely be our
next priority," Thrawn answered. "Tell me more about these fugitives."

	"They are wanted by the Republic for various war crimes, and are
highly dangerous. They commandeered a recent model Bulk Cruiser from the
Sluis Van shipyards, and the ship has a fair amount of weaponry so it
would be advisable to be wary. They are also highly unpredictable."

	"Thank you," Thrawn said, his face remaining unreadable. In a cool
and professional tone, he continued: "Do you have any last requests?"

	Doriana's hope suddenly turned into panic. "I must verify that
these fugitives are destroyed and report back to the Supreme
Chancellor..." he said in a rush.

	Thrawn smiled wanly. "I'm afraid that won't be possible." He then
spun about and began to walk away from Doriana, who stood, eyes flickering
wildly as he attempted to find something to save himself.

	"Wait!" Doriana exclaimed in desperation. "You're missing
something. I'm the Supreme Chancellor's aide. I can get you anything you
want in the Republic. Ships, men, a position in the Navy... anything you
want."

	The Chiss commander stopped and turned to regard Doriana. "Ah," he
said. "An interesting offer. However, if I let you go, how do I know you
will keep your side of the bargain?"

	Doriana stuttered something, but Thrawn cut him off. "If it
humours you, I have no objection to allowing you to watch the demise of
the fugitives." He motioned to several of the troops, who then proceeded
to bind the former commander and take him away.



	Mantrel was shaken from his recollection by a door chime. He
already knew who it was, and activated the door switch.

	"Commodore," Captain Ollic began, "we have arrived..."

	"Yes, Captain," Mantrel replied somewhat impatiently. "I am aware
of it. Our smuggler friend has already left the system."

	Ollic hesitated, slightly uncertain. "What will we do next?"

	To answer the Captain's question, Mantrel tapped the comm on his
desk. "Lieutenant Opgard, have an active sensor sweep run on the system.
Leave nothing unreported."

	"Yes, Sir," the brisk reply came.

	Meanwhile, the Commodore came to his feet and strode over to
Ollic. "Are you aware of the significance of this system?" he inquired.

	"No, Commodore," Ollic replied. "There was no mention of it in any
Imperial databases."

	"No mention in any public Imperial databases, perhaps," Mantrel
said, "but there is an entry in the database on Nirauan."

	Ollic looked up, slight surprise on his face. "Nirauan? The
location of the Hand of Thrawn?"

	Mantrel responded with a nod. "Indeed. But that is unimportant at
the moment. What is significant about this system is that this marks the
location where Thrawn ambushed the Outbound Flight Project." He paused. "I
was there. The sensor sweep should turn up, at most, some battle debris
but nothing more. Thrawn recovered several of the hulks for salvage and
vaporized the rest." The Chiss turned around and walked back to his desk,
activating a holographic display of the system. "As a result, I find it
rather interesting that the smuggler ended up here. There are no planets
of note, no large asteroids that you could build a base on."

	Captain Ollic scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps she was
looking for the battle debris?" he asked.

	"Doubtful, but nonetheless possible," Mantrel replied. "Only the
Supreme Chancellor and Thrawn's force knew about what happened in this
system, and neither Thrawn nor Palpatine were known to have loose lips."
Turning, he sat back down at his desk and awaited the scan results...



	"Lieutenant Mantrel," Thrawn commanded in his native tongue,
"concentrate all fire on the bulk cruiser's engines."

	"Yes, Sir," the young (in Chiss terms) lieutenant acknowledged,
relaying the order to the soldiers who had replaced the human crew. The
Dreadnaught and the remaining ships of the Chiss taskforce re-orinted
themselves so as to present the most guns to the weak Bulk Cruiser. Under
the suddenly refocused bombardment, the aft shields quickly fell, and the
turbolasers began ripping into the hull. There was a slight explosion, a
mere gout of plasma really; then the ship seemed to elongate in a flicker
of pseudomotion as it vanished into hyperspace.

	Doriana, bound and standing off to one side of the bridge, sighed
audibly. "I warned you that they were not fools."

	"And what did you expect me to do?" Thrawn snapped. "Move the
comet's mass shadow to a more... convenient location?" He turned to
Mantrel again. "Run a trace on their vector immediately."

	"The computer reports that they were on a collision course with
the singularity," the Lieutenant replied after a silent moment. "Scanning
the area surrounding the black hole right now."



	Commodore Mantrel leaned back in his chair aboard the
Imperator-class Star Destroyer and sighed. The scan of the black hole, so
many years ago, had only turned up some heavily ionized hull plating,
which they had recovered and scanned. The plating had come from their
quarry, which satisfied Doriana. Then Thrawn had ordered the Republic
commander to be executed. From what he recalled, only a single hypercomm
message made it back to Coruscant, and that had been a panicked message
from Doriana to the Supreme Chancellor.

	So what then, he pondered as the holodisplay flickered on to show
a Cygnus Spaceworks shuttle from the Clone Wars era, could this mean? He
was well aware of the strange phenomena that surrounded black holes, but
what seemed to be a shuttle from the seemingly destroyed Outbound
Flight...

	"We are now in tractor beam range, Sir," a Lieutenant informed him
over the comlink.

	"Excellent," he responded as he came to his feet. "Captain, come
with me to the hangar bay."





CHAPTER TWELVE


	JAINA NEARLY put her fist through the comm panel, but thought
better of it. "It's the third time," she complained, "and I still haven't
heard anything from ExGal 4."

	"What about the scan?" Jacen asked from the rear of the cockpit.

	"One humanoid lifesign, and not much of anything else." Jaina
turned around in her chair, frustration obvious on her face. "So, what do
we do now?"

	As he put his boots up on a side console and leaned back, Jacen
shrugged. "Knock harder?"

	"I guess that could work." Jaina spun back around, immediately
reaching for the controls. Then, as if something had stung her, she pulled
back. "Hang on. Is the atmosphere even breathable?"

	The cockpit was silent, save for the hum of computers, for a long
moment. "Yes," Tenel Ka eventually said. "Marginally. There's a lot of
carbon dioxide, methane, and sulfur dioxide floating around. There are
also intense storms raging across the planet, although none are near the
station so far. The situation seems to be calming down, however, and
according to the computer the atmosphere should be back at normal levels
in another month or so."

	"So you're saying that it smells like a cesspool. Wonderful."

	She looked at Jacen with an incredulous expression. "What are you
talking about?"

	"Nevermind. Just page Kyp and tell him that we're going in. He'll
probably want to come as well."

	Jaina checked some settings on the panel. "Sounds good to me," she
said as she reached overhead and turned on the comm. "Rock Dragon to
Avenger Leader. Kyp, there hasn't been any response, so we're going to
land and take a look. What are your plans?"

	The comm was silent for a moment as Kyp talked to his squadron
mates. "I'll come with you. Miko and the rest of the squadron will stay in
orbit and keep us informed of anything."

	"Will do," she acknowledged, switching the comm to standby and
grabbing the yoke. The Hapan transport responded immediately, diving into
into Belkadan's atmosphere at a shallow attitude. Less than a minute
later, they were skimming over the treetops-or rather, what was left of
them.

	There was a slight stir as Jacen stood up in the back of the
cockpit and walked forward so as to get a better view. "Blaster bolts!" he
exclaimed as soon as he saw the jungle. "I knew the 3GS data was out of
date, but I had no idea it was this bad..."

	"There's ExGal 4," Tenel Ka stated, her arm pointing to a rapidly
growing speck on the horizon. "We'll worry about the jungle after we land.
Lowie, anything on the short-range scanners yet?"

	By the time the Wookiee barked a negative and waited for Em Tedee
to translate it, the Rock Dragon was already circling over the science
station as Jaina attempted to find a suitable landing zone. The search
didn't take very long, and soon thereafter both ships had touched down on
what passed for a landing pad.

	As the landing ramp unfolded, Jacen was the first one down,
holding his lightsaber in one hand just in case there was any wildlife
looking for a quick snack. However, it wasn't wildlife that assaulted him.
It was the smell.

	"Phew. It's like rotten vegetables," Jaina remarked for him as she
came right behind him on the ramp.

	"No kidding." He stepped onto the stresscrete pad, looking down
when he heard his boots crunching on something. The ground was covered
evenly with small, rounded, two-centimeter brown objects that looked, for
all extents and purposes, dead. He picked one up and turned it over in his
gloved hands. "Hey, take a look..."

	Jacen was interrupted by a loud bellow from Lowie, which was
promptly followed up by a remark from Em Tedee. "A pity that you can't
shut off your olfactory sensors."

	The Wookiee snorted and chuffed something in response.

	"What? No, you wouldn't do that. Would you?"

	Lowie grabbed the small translator with a meaty paw and held it up
to his face, then bared his fangs in a slight grin.

	"I see your point," Em Tedee said in a rather humiliated tone.
"Can you put me back now?"

	The Wookiee did so, then strode across the pad to where Kyp was
lowering his R6 astromech. The other Jedi were already gathered there and
talking.

	"I wonder what happened to this jungle," Jacen was saying. "I
mean, we've got these dead beetles strewn all over the place, and
everything else seems pretty dead to me."

	"The person inside ExGal 4 might be able to answer that," Kyp
said, turning as Lowie approached. "Good, we're all here. Lowie, would you
mind taking R6 here back to your transport and staying there to alert us
in case Miko finds something?"

	Lowie bellowed a 'yes,' then walked back to the ship with R6 in
tow as the other Jedi went for the nearest entrance to ExGal 4.

	"Well, this would explain why they couldn't hear us," Jaina
observed as they stopped in front of a fallen communications tower.
"Completely sm... wait, there's someone trapped under it! Help me get it
off."

	Several lightsaber strokes later, they rolled the top of the tower
off the body, which was wearing a badly torn envirosuit. Jacen gingerly
reached down and pulled the hood off the body, revealing a crushed skull
that was covered in more of the dead beetles.

	"I wonder how long he's been there for," Jacen said, grimacing.
"And whoever's inside didn't even come out and check... some teamwork."

	"Maybe he couldn't get the tower off," Tenel Ka remarked,
fingering her rancor-tooth lightsaber. "Or else whatever hit this planet
made him stay inside."

	By now the group had reached the door, and Kyp pressed the control
panel to no avail. "Security lockout," he remarked, distaste obvious on
his face.

	Then the heavy door slid open. Standing behind it was a
black-haired human male, who looked to be in his middle 30s.

	"Welcome to ExGal 4," the man said in passable Basic. "I take it
you're the rescue party? We've been expecting you for over a month."

	Confusion momentarily flashed across Kyp's face, although he
quickly recovered. "Yes, we were sent by the Extragalactic Society when
they received your distress call. It seems we came too late, however."

	"Too late for Tomri or the rest of the station crew, perhaps," the
man said as he gestured to the body lying next to the tower. "But I am
still alive."

	'He didn't even seem to care about Tomri,' Jacen thought.

	"True," Kyp said, extending his hand. "But I don't believe we've
been introduced yet. I'm Kyp Durron, and these are my assistants."

	"Yomin Carr," the man said as he somewhat hesitantly took Kyp's
outstreched hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

	Kyp immediately took charge of the situation. "Can you show us
around the facility so we can assess the damage?"

	"Certainly," Yomin Carr replied. "Follow me." He began walking
down the hallway, stopping at the first door he came to and unlocking it.
"This is, or was, our hydroponics facility," he said as they stepped
inside. "After the storm, one of the trees overhanging the facility fell
over and smashed the upper windows. Fortunately none of the plants were
attacked by those beetles."

	Jacen looked around the room, which was, just as Carr had said,
now open to the sky. The plants scattered around the hydroponics room were
all relatively standard food-producing plants, and he didn't notice
anything really abnormal about them... "The beetles, can you tell me
anything about them?"

	Yomin Carr shook his head. "Not much. It's possible that they
mutated on this planet and then spread, doing enough damage to the
environment to produce the storm that damaged this facility."

	"Do you have any genetic testing equipment here?"

	"No." Carr frowned. "This is an astronomical station, remember?
All the scientific equipment we had was for charting extragalactic
objects."

	Kyp laughed. "Don't worry about Jacen too much. He's our
biologist, and isn't very much into technology."

	"I see," Carr replied as he noticed that Jaina was entering some
information into her datapad. "As soon as you've finished the damage
assessment for this room, shall we move on?"

	"Sure," Jaina said, flipping the datapad shut and sliding it back
into a pocket on her flight suit. "What's the next damaged room?"

	"The observation lounge," Carr replied as he stepped back into the
hallway and continued walking.

	Meanwhile, in the Rock Dragon, Lowbacca paced back and forth in
the cargo bay. He stopped to pick up the scratched piece of durasteel, and
looked over it thoughtfully before setting it back down. It had already
been fifteen minutes since the rest had left...

	Lowie finally made up his mind. Attaching a comlink extender to
the Rock Dragon's comm panel, so he'd know if Miko tried to contact him,
he stuck a comlink on his belt, gestured to Kyp's R6 to follow him, and
headed down the ramp.

	"Are you sure this is a wise decision?" Em Tedee warbled from his
belt. Lowbacca ignored the miniature translator for the time being, going
so far as to slap his paw over its grille as he approached the door. He
then tried the door panel, but to no avail, and growled something.

	"Lowbacca requests that you override the door's security code," Em
Tedee told the R6 in a muted tone. The barrel-headed astromech trundled
up, extended its data port, and plugged into the control panel. A tense
moment later the door slid open.

	The Wookiee grunted an inquiry under its breath, which Em Tedee
then translated. A quiet reply promptly came from the R6.

	"R6 says that the computer center is approximately thirty meters
into the base. The other group is about fifty meters away from the
computer center."

	Lowie bared his fangs slightly in a feral smile and quickly strode
into ExGal 4, R6 in close pursuit.

	"What can you tell us about the storm?" Tenel Ka asked Yomin Carr
as they left the wrecked observation lounge.

	Carr shook his head. "As much as I told... ah... Jacen about the
beetles. The storm started a little over a month ago on the far side of
the planet. It spread rapidly, and several days after it started, several
of the other scientists left in the base's airspeeder to check on its
progress. When they returned, we hastily began preparing the base for the
storm, but we were not fast enough. As the rest of the team took our
shuttle into orbit to map out the global damage from the storm, the main
comm tower was damaged. Bensin Tomri, who stayed behind with me, decided
to climb up and fix it. I warned him against it, but he ignored me. The
tower collapsed and I was unable to free him."

	"And the shuttle?" Jaina interjected.

	The scientist glared at her. "I was getting to that. I think the
shuttle was damaged by the storm when it took off, because when they came
back down it went out of control and burned up in the atmosphere. None of
them made it as far as I could tell."

	"So you basically holed up and waited for help to arrive."

	"Yes," Carr replied, stopping in front of another door and
unlocking it. "Now this was the communications room," he stated as they
stepped inside. "All the equipment has serious acid damage, and will need
to be replaced."

	"Acid damage?" Jacen frowned, then sighed in realization. "Sulfur
mixed with the water in the atmosphere. Of course."

	"Correct," Carr replied. "But the equipment was rather old. I hope
that the Extragalactic Society can bring some newer equipment."

	"We'll mention it when we return," Kyp replied. "But they are on a
short budget."

	As Carr closed up the comm room, he continued talking. "The
astronomical facilities were damaged the worst of all. The main optical
telescope was completely ruined, along with the hyperspacial sensor
array..."



	Lowbacca warily scanned the room as R6 whirred away at the
computer terminal, downloading as many of the base's records as possible.
The droid paused momentarily, and an audio recording began to play.

	"It's the fourth day of the storm," a woman's voice began, "and
there's no sign of letting up. When we checked on the storm's progress
earlier today, we got caught in it and Tee-Ubo was wounded. She sacrificed
herself by giving us her oxygen pack so that we could get back to base."
The woman on the recording took a breath, and Lowbacca could tell that she
was in pain. "However, the sensor contact has already entered the Helska
system and is approaching the fourth planet, decelerating all the time.
Despite the storm, in a few minutes we're going to leave in the old
shuttle and investigate. Bensin and Yomin are staying behind to watch the
base, and I hope they survive the storm. Danni Quee out."

	The Wookiee pondered the message as R6 continued downloading. By
the time the droid finished, he had made up his mind, and left in the
direction that R6 told him the rest of the Jedi were.



	Yomin Carr stopped in his tracks as he saw Lowbacca and R6
approaching. "I was not informed that you had androids with you," he
calmly stated.

	The Jedi turned to see Lowie, who bellowed something.

	"Wait a second. Why are droids a problem?" Kyp looked back at
Yomin Carr.

	"It was an agreement with the Extragalactic Society that this base
would not have any droids, as they are an offense to my religion. So I
would recommend that you immediately remove your droid from the premises."

	Kyp rolled his eyes, but decided that a confrontation was not
worth it. "Lowie, take R6 back to the ship, will you?"

	The Wookiee barked an objection, but Kyp put up his hand. "You can
tell us later. Just go."

	"Thank you," Carr curtly stated as soon as Lowbacca and the droids
had left.

	"You're welcome," Kyp replied, not meaning it at all. "Is there
any other damage that we need to know about?"

	Yomin Carr shook his head. "There's minor damage all through the
base, of course, but that's to be expected."

	"Well, then, I guess we're done here." Kyp looked straight at
Carr. "Should we take you back to ExGal headquarters or do you want to
take your chances and stay here until aid arrives?"

	"I will stay here. There is still some data that can be gathered,
despite most of the main instruments being down. Thank you for the offer,
but it is unnecessary."

	"In that case, we'll be on our way."



	Yomin Carr allowed himself a slight smile as he watched the group
return to their ships and leave. He wasn't entirely happy about the fact
that they brought a droid into the station-he hadn't made up the part
about droids being against his religion, but that was not what worried
him. He thought he had disconnected the station's main computer, but
astromechs were repair droids and known to be good at slicing.

	Carr sealed the door again and walked back to his quarters, lost
deep in thought. These people seemed to accept everything that he had fed
them, but he still found something a little unsettling about them. Perhaps
they were the Jedi that Nom Anor had warned him about?

	With that thought, he reached his quarters and slid the metal door
open. As soon as he'd shut the door again, he began to undress, pulling
off the suffocating artificial fabric uniform that had been issued to all
the ExGal scientists. He balled the uniform up and, sneering, roughly
tossed it into the room's closet. Then he reached up and pressed an area
to the side of his nose. For a moment, nothing happened; then there was a
slight, moist, ripping sound, and his "skin" began to peel along his
spine. It continued to peel off, tiny hooks unbinding themselves from his
pores in a wave of excruciating pain that ran from head to toe.

	He savored the pain, drank it in as if it were alchohol. Now the
creature-it couldn't have been anything else-was halfway off. It continued
to peel off him, now revealing his true face. Finally finished, the
ooglith masquer undulated along the floor until it found its typical
resting place.

	Yomin Carr straightened and looked at himself in the room's
mirror. Scars ran along his body, long since healed, evidence of the
tortures that he had put himself through while on the Praetorite Vong
worldship. 

	He tore his mind off his appearance, and put on a utilitarian
loincloth before reaching into the closet and withdrawing a roughly
head-sized pulsating creature, a villip. Setting it on his bed, Carr
stroked the ridge on the front of the villip. A seam appeared in the
center of the villip, which continued to invert itself until it was almost
a perfect ball again. The oblong ball of the villip then took on the shape
of a well-scarred face.

	"Executor," Carr addressed the person who possessed the villip's
twin.

	"What do you have to report, Attendant?"

	"A small group of humans, as well as a large alien-I believe it's
called a Wookiee-visited the station today. They said they were an
inspection team from the Extragalactic Society."

	Nom Anor's eyes, or more correctly, the villip's rendition of his
eyes, narrowed. "How many people?"

	"I counted five, Executor."

	Anor drew in a sharp breath. "Four humans and a Wookiee? What were
the appearances of the humans? Was one a red-haired woman with only one
arm?"

	"Yes," Carr replied, unsure of what the Executor was thinking.

	"Then we must speed up our plans dramatically. Those were Jedi,
attendant."

	"Jeedai?" the Praetorite Vong infiltrator inquired, slightly
slurring the word. "They did not seem suspicious..."

	"Jedi can mask their feelings quite well; I have dealt with them
before. Are they still on the planet?"

	"No, Executor. They left the landing pad several minutes ago."

	"Be watchful, attendant. They may return at any time. I will
contact Prefect Da'Gara and inform him of this news. He may send a
coralskipper to retrieve you, or he may not."

	"Understood," Carr replied before closing the villip.



	"Did anyone else find anything strange about that guy?" Jacen
asked as he took a seat at the rear of the cockpit. "It was... I don't
know how to put it... like trying to probe a Hutt but worse."

	Tenel Ka nodded. "Almost like he didn't exist as far as the Force
was concerned."

	"Almost," Jacen agreed. "But that gets me wondering, if the Force
is in everything as Uncle Luke has said, then how can a person not exist
in the Force?"

	Jaina rolled her eyes. "We've discussed that before, well, sort
of. How can a ysalamir live if it pushes the Force back?"

	He shrugged. "Got me there."

	A Wookiee roar from the rear of the ship broke through any
semblance of discussion. Sighing, Jacen came to his feet and walked into
the hold. "What's the matter?" he asked.

	Lowbacca arfed softly, gesturing at the screen of the ship's
computer, which was displaying some techincal data.

	"Kriff," Jacen muttered to himself as he broke out in a run back
to the cockpit. "Turn around," he insisted to the surprise of his sister
and Tenel Ka. "We need to go back. Now."

	"Why?" the two pilots asked almost in unison.

	"Because Yomin Carr lied to us."

	"What?"

	Jacen paused to brace himself against the doorway. "The base's
shuttle didn't burn up in Belkadan's atmosphere," he explained. "Logs
showed a signal from sector L-30, about eighteen parsecs Rimward. Most of
the personnel left in a shuttle to investigate that, not the storm. So as
far as we know they're still alive."

	Tenel Ka reached for the comm, leaving Jaina to do the flying.
"Avenger Leader, this is Tenel Ka on the Rock Dragon. We just receieved
some new data from Lowbacca concerning ExGal 4."

	"-copy," Kyp acknowledged, partially cut off by a burst of static.
"R6 already told me. We'll discuss it with the rest of the squadron."



	Predictably, the Avengers couldn't form a solid conclusion. Miko
and about half of the squadron wanted to investigate. The rest, excluding
Kyp (who had decided to wait before he took a side) were in favor of
staying.

	"Jacen," his sister began, "if you think they might still be
alive, we should go to Helska immediately. Not back down there."

	"But it could also be a front. We know he's alive, and we can
still get information from him."

	Tenel Ka nodded her approval. "And what does Lowbacca have to
say?"

	An excited Wookiee bellow answered the question; there was no
mistaking whose side Lowbacca was on. Jacen merely smiled, to his sister's
discomfort.

	"Squadron's split fifty-fifty," Kyp reported over the comm. "How
about you guys?"

	They told him.

	"Then it's settled," he remarked. "Good point, Jacen; we don't
need to waste time chasing wild Gundarks."

	With that conclusion the two ships, transport and starfighter,
plowed back through the atmosphere at a much faster rate. This time the
Jedi wasted no time on pleasantries, leaving Tenel Ka to watch the ships
as they charged for the front door.

	"Fused shut this time," Jacen remarked as he drew his lightsaber.
He quickly sliced through the sealed door, only to find the corridor
beyond crushed in rubble. "Kriff."

	"Master Lowbacca suggests that we find a back door," Em Tedee
translated from his position on the Wookiee's utility belt. 

	"What a novel idea," Jacen dryly remarked as he shut down his
lightsaber and clipped it back on his belt, running to catch up with the
rest of the group. They were almost halfway around the station by the time
he did.

	The sight that greeted the group as they neared the back door was,
to put it mildly, gruesome. An astromech droid leaned against the back
wall, its dome crudely removed and a human skull-Jacen recognized it
fleetingly as Tomri's, whose body they hadn't bothered to check-in the
dome's place.

	"My goodness," a tinny voice erupted after it could see the
destroyed astromech.

	"What kind of maniac does that?" Jaina inquired, thoroughly
revolted. 

	"Same kind of maniac that I suspect we'll find inside," Kyp
answered. "So much for his claims of the ExGal society agreeing to not
have droids in the station."

	This time Jaina stepped up to the door and tried the controls.
"Locked as well."

	Lowbacca arfed something, which Em Tedee reluctantly translated.
"Master Lowbacca suggests interfacing me to the door controls."

	"Alright, then, get up here."

	Em Tedee floated off Lowbacca's belt on his repulsorlift cushion.
"I must protest being used in this manner," the small droid complained
despite knowing the uselessness of the complaint as Jaina hooked him up.
Moments later the door slid open.

	"Sithspit!" Jaina exclaimed as she involuntarily took a step away
from the door. In her startled state, she forgot about the stairs leading
to the door and lost her balance, landing in Kyp's arms.

	Standing just beyond the door frame was a roughly humanoid
creature, almost exactly two meters tall-'the same height as Yomin Carr',
Jacen thought. In the alien's hand was a snakelike staff, and tatoos
covered its body from head to toe. Upon seeing Jaina's discomfiture, it
gave what might have been the equivalent of a snort, alhtough Jacen
wondered how that was possible given the lack of a normal nose on the
alien.

	"I did not know that you jeedai were so characteristically
clumsy," the alien remarked in Yomin Carr's voice. Then it leapt into
action, snakelike staff stiffening and swinging as if it were a
lightsaber.

	Four humming lightsabers, each a different color, greeted the
hissing staff. Jacen, now the nearest to Yomin Carr, swung his saber into
the path of the hissing serpent-and was surprised when the living creature
deflected his saber as if it were another lightsaber.

	"What the..." was all he had time to say before he ducked into a
roll, and the creature's staff bit into the wall behind where he had been
standing. Now he was inside ExGal 4, but so was Carr. There was an
electronic screech, and the wires that connected Em Tedee were broken by
the staff while Jacen was distracted; the droid went flying back into the
clearing before it could regain control with its repulsors.

	The door slammed shut, leaving Jacen standing opposite Yomin Carr.
As the tip of a lightsaber poked through one corner of the blast door,
Carr sprung into action again, hammering at Jacen with a flurry of blows
that put the Jedi firmly on the defensive. The Jedi found himself hard
pressed to keep up, feeling rather disoriented around the alien, and after
perhaps two minutes had passed his guard faltered; he felt something
strike his left heel, and he fell backwards.

	Before he could react, Carr was standing over him, armored foot
standing on his lightsaber arm, strange staff pointing at his throat. "Too
easy," the alien gloated, and drew his staff back for a killing blow--

	Which was stopped by a glowing bronze blade. Lowbacca bared his
fangs at the alien warrior before applying more force to his blade,
driving Carra back. Jaina ran over to help her brother while Kyp joined in
the attack with Lowie.

	"Are you all right?" she asked, helping Jacen to his feet.

	He winced as a starburst of pain seemed to spread from his heel.
Whatever the staff was had torn through his thick boot as if it didn't
exist. "I think it might have been poisoned."

	"Then get back to the ship," she warned him.

	"I'll try." He leaned back against a wall, trying to recover
enough strength in that leg to limp back to the ship while Jaina charged
into battle. As the battle raged on, Jacen focused on halting the flow of
the poison before it did any more damage. He already couldn't feel
anything below his knee, and as he shifted weight in preparation to walk
out the door, his ankle folded and he collapsed with a groan. So much for
that idea, he thought as he started crawling.

	Now outnumbered, it was only a matter of minutes before the three
Jedi brought Yomin Carr down. Bring him down they did; he croaked and fell
as a lightsaber punched through his shoulder armor.

	"Who are you really?" Kyp demanded, his lightsaber pointed at the
alien's face.

	Yomin Carr managed to contort his broken and bleeding face into
something that resembled a grin. "The beginning of your end," he managed
as his hand twitched imperceptibly toward the staff, which was lying only
a few centimeters away. The staff instantly responded, softening and
becoming more snake-like. Its head coiled upward, and before Jaina or any
of the other Jedi could react, it spat a blob of venom toward her face.
She started to dodge to the side, but with no warning from the Force her
reaction time wasn't fast enough.

	The venom splashed across her right eye and cheek, burning like
acid. She instantly recoiled, using a gloved hand to wipe most of the
venom off her face.

	Before it could cause any more damage, Lowbacca rapidly stepped
over and in one smooth swing beheaded the now soft staff. At the same
time, Kyp moved his lightsaber closer to Carr's exposed face.

	"You will tell us who you employed you," he said in a very serious
tone, "now."

	Yomin Carr managed to choke out a laugh. "I know enough to tell
you that your vaunted Jeedai powers are useless against me."

	Kyp didn't flinch. "Tell us."

	The alien said no more. Sighing, Kyp turned to Lowbacca. "Lowie,
bind him while I make sure he doesn't try anything. We'll have to bring
him with us."

	As the Wookiee reached for the binders that hung on his belt, Kyp
spotted Carr's other arm moving toward a bandolier on his chest. He  swung
the lightsaber to intercept it, cutting off the hand. The arm thumped down
on top of the bandolier weakly as dark blood spurted out.

	Kyp's eyes widened. "Stand back!" he warned as he took a leap
backwards. Moments later, the bandolier exploded like a weak thermal
detonator, scattering Yomin Carr's remains all over the room. Kyp wiped
some dark blood off his face. "So much for interrogation," he sighed.

	"Was that the same person who gave us the tour?" Jaina asked in a
tone that suggested she'd seen better days. Already she had torn off part
of her jumpsuit and used it to wipe the venom off her face.

	"Apparently so," Kyp replied as he turned toward her. He noticed
that her right eye was tearing; a stream of clear fluid escaped and
trickled down Jaina's cheek. "How badly did it hurt you?"

	She shrugged. "It burned pretty bad, and I'm having some trouble
seeing out of one eye."

	Kyp nodded. "All right, let's get back to our ships and patch you
guys up. Then we can tear this station apart to see what really happened."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN


	"THAT WAS Coruscant space control," Cathi explained as she pulled
off her headset and turned to Dellen. "We can land, but nowhere near
Republic Center, and they're going to send out a team of customs
inspectors because of this ship's profile."

	Master Dellen sighed. He'd accidentally discovered the small
amount of ryll spice that had been left aboard the freighter by the
Imperials; it was enough for Cathi to survive for a time and maybe upgrade
her ship, but it could also just as easily land her in a prison. "I'll see
what I can do about them," he explained. Normally Jedi would not help
smugglers, but in this case he was indebted to her for rescuing him;
besides, she didn't even have enough money otherwise to pay the berthing
fees on Coruscant.

	"Thanks," Cathi said with a hint of uncertainty. Dellen sighed
again. From what she had told him, the Jedi were now perceived as a mere
vigilante group by most smugglers, with reports of a Jedi-led squadron
running rampant throughout the Outer Rim... How the mighty have fallen, he
reflected. The Jedi Council would never have tolerated such an insult.

	The comm chose that moment to squawk, making the pilot
involuntarily jump a little. "Freighter Headwind, you have deviated from
the appointed flight path. Return to it at once."

	"Understood, Control," Cathi replied as she nudged the control
yoke in the correct direction.

	The landing, several minutes later, was as unremarkable as any
landing Dellen had seen. After making sure his lightsaber was still
attached to his belt, he walked with the smuggler down the landing ramp
and saw Coruscant from the ground, or as close as you could get to ground,
for the first time in fifty years.

	"Some things just never change," he said, more to himself than to
Cathi as he eyed the docking pit that the Headwind was berthed in. The
well-scored walls, blackened from many years' worth of takeoffs and
landings, could have easily predated the Outbound Flight. The Jedi took a
deep breath of the air, smelling it carefully. "Just as polluted as ever."

	Cathi nudged him with her elbow. "Here comes the circus."

	He was already looking in the direction that she had pointed, so
it came as no great surprise when the inspection team arrived.

	"If you two would be so kind as to wait for us here," the lead
inspector, a somewhat overweight human in an expensive-looking uniform,
began, "we'll begin our inspections. Are there any hazards we should know
about first?"

	The smuggler shook her head. She'd secured the small package of
ryll inside a scanner-shielded compartment, but authorities were always
expecting such tricks so she was slightly nervous about it.

	The inspectors disappeared inside the freighter, and came out
several minutes later. Needless to say, both Jedi and smuggler were
relieved to see them empty-handed.

	"Your ship is clean, Miss Riclin," the lead inspector began,
motioning to one of the other inspectors, "except for this."

	She took in a sharp breath and frowned as the inspector produced a
small vial from an accompanying droid.

	"You recognize it?" the inspector remarked, smirking. "We will be
taking both of you into custody until the judge determines your sentence."
He leaned closer to Cathi, who wrinkled her nose in disgust at his breath.
"I hear he isn't usually very friendly toward smugglers."

	"I'll bet," Cathi sardonically remarked as several other
inspectors began to approach, carrying binders. Then, oddly enough, they
found better things to do and scattered. Startled, she looked over at
Dellen, who was staring at the inspector with a piercing gaze.

	"You will not take us into custody," Dellen said in a calm,
controlled voice.

	"I... will not take you into custody," he hesitatingly repeated.

	"You will turn yourself in to port authorities for fraudulently
arresting innocent people and possession of illicit substances," Dellen
continued.

	"Yes," the man mumbled. "I will turn myself in for fraudulently
arresting innocent people and possession of illicit substances."

	"But before you do," the Jedi added quietly, "you will sign the
papers saying that this ship is clean."

	"Right." The inspector, still looking slightly confused, did as he
was told before leaving and taking the rest of his team with him. 

	Dellen shook his head as he watched the group leave. "Haven't done
that in a while. Always some corruption somewhere in a bureaucracy."

	"You know," Cathi said in amazement, "you'd make a great
smuggler."

	"Which is precisely why the Jedi Code forbids us from using our
abilities for profit," Dellen replied, looking back at the ship. "In the
meantime, I think we should get out of here before he gets suspicious and
decides not to go to the port authorities."

	As they walked toward the pad's exit, Cathi looked up at the
serene Jedi. "I thought it was impossible to go against something like
that?"

	"Not impossible," he corrected. "Just very difficult, and it
requires a strong mind. He wasn't the strongest person I've met, but he
could have been weaker."

	Cathi had to admit, there was something about the tall Jedi Master
that she found somewhat attractive. But as she opened her mouth to speak,
he stopped her.

	"I know what you're thinking," he remarked. "I suppose I should
have also mentioned that the Jedi Code forbids attachment."

	"But how is that possible if Luke Skywalker is married?"

	Dellen stopped in shock, more at the name than the idea that a
Jedi was married. "Skywalker?" he asked.

	"Luke Skywalker. He's the leader of the Jedi. I thought everyone's
heard of him?"

	Dellen shook his head. "I've been out of galactic matters for the
past seventy or so years." So a Skywalker leads the Jedi now? he wondered.
"Whose son is he?"

	It was Cathi's turn to shrug. "I could be wrong, but I've heard
that he was Darth Vader's son."

	The Jedi Master abruptly turned to face her. "The son of a Sith?"

	"What's a Sith?"

	Dellen ignored the question. If this Luke Skywalker was the son of
a Darth Vader, that meant that Vader was also a Skywalker... and the only
Skywalker he knew of who would have been old enough to be a father was
Anakin Skywalker. He shuddered. The Chosen One... or at least the person
that Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi had insisted was the  Chosen
One.

	Which led to an interesting revelation: a Sith had brought balance
to the Force?

	He left the question hanging in the back of his mind as they
stepped into a hovercar rental shop. They quickly selected a model and
paid the deposit to use the car; Cathi would have to pay the full fee when
they returned it, but that wasn't a problem since he would pay her for her
inconveniences as soon as they reached the Jedi Temple.

	They shot out into the crowded Coruscant skylanes, Cathi doing the
steering as Dellen attempted to locate the Temple.

	"No mention of Jedi Temple found in city maps," the hovercar's
navigational computer reported. The Jedi Master scratched his head and
tried a different tactic. "Locate Jedi."

	"One entry found for Jedi Praxeum," the computer reported after a
moment.

	"Location?"

	Dellen nodded when the map appeared and had the computer calculate
a flight path to this Praxeum. Maybe they'd be able to tell him a little
more about what had happened.



	Unlike the imposing Jedi Temple, Dellen noted, this Praxeum was
anything but imposing. Nestled in between several skyscrapers, it occupied
part of a rooftop and was a modest four stories in all, not even a
fraction of the size of the Jedi Temple. It had no hangars as far as
Dellen could tell, and the architectural style was radically different
from that of the Temple.

	Master Dellen took a breath and stepped out of the hovercar onto
the duracrete pad, Cathi following him at a few paces' distance. He
stepped into the main entrance of the Praxeum, looking around at the few
Jedi scattered around the room. "I'm looking for Master Skywalker," he
announced.

	Eight pairs of eyes turned to meet him, all with inquiring gazes.
"He's not here at the moment," one vaguely green-skinned Jedi said as he
walked over. "I'm Dorsk 82. How can I help you?"

	"I'm Master Dellen," he replied. "Can you tell me where Skywalker
is?"

	"He's in the middle of a Senate hearing at the moment." Dorsk 82
frowned slightly. "And you said you were... Master Dellen?"

	"Yes."

	Dorsk looked down. "Pardon my suspicions, but Master Skywalker is
the only Jedi Master that I know of at the moment."

	Dellen laughed. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to him
about, but I suppose I'll have to wait." He looked around the room. "Would
you mind showing me around here while we're waiting?"

	"Ah... I suppose," Dorsk replied, stepping forward. "You see, the
last person who simply announced himself as a Jedi Master was Joruus
C'baoth."

	"Joruus?" Dellen inquired, noting the mispronounciation of the
name.

	"An insane clone of the Jedi Master who died on the Outbound
Flight," the other Jedi replied.

	Dellen screwed his face up in incredulity. Talk about being a
stranger in a strange land!

	"What's so funny?"

	"Well..." The Jedi Master took the time to choose his words
carefully. "That's the other reason why I'm here."

	"C'baoth?"

	"Sort of."

	Dorsk 82 shook his head in amazement, or perhaps confusion. "All
right, I'll let you wait for Skywalker," he said as he started leading the
Jedi Master through the Praxeum.

	The first room they stopped at was apparently a sparring room of
some sort, the otherwise flawless walls marked with the occasional
lightsaber burn. "The Praxeum," Dorsk 82 explained, "isn't supposed to be
the main training center for the Jedi, but we do have limited facilities."

	Dellen nodded. "So is the Order smaller than it was under the
Republic?"

	"We are under the Republic," Dorsk 82 replied with a little
confusion evident on his face.

	"Ah, pardon my choice of words. I was referring to the Jedi Order
as it was sixty to seventy years ago."

	"Under the Old Republic, you mean?" Dorsk shook his head. "We
don't have enough records to compare the old Jedi Order with the current
one."

	"Another thing I'll have to remedy," Dellen muttered, more to
himself than to Dorsk.

	"Pardon?"

	Dellen ignored the question. "Where is the main training facility
located? Here on Coruscant?"

	A light laugh excaped Dorsk 82's lips. "Hardly, with land prices
so high. The Academy is located on Yavin Four."

	"Surprising," Dellen murmured. "Once the headquarters of a great
Sith Lord, and now a training academy for Jedi." He looked directly at
Dorsk. "Were there problems with the Academy in its early days?"

	Dorsk 82 paused as he opened the door to what appeared to be a
meditation chamber. "You know of Exar Kun?"

	Dellen lifted his hands. "How could I not? I'm a historian, after
all. I am surprised that Exar Kun himself created trouble, since the Jedi
order had destroyed him. I was thinking more along the lines of devices he
may have left."

	As they left the meditation chamber, Dorsk 82 licked his lips
nervously. "Exar Kun found a way to trap his spirit within the Massassi
temples," he finally said. "He destroyed several promising trainees,  and
nearly destroyed Luke Skywalker before he was vanquished."

	Dellen shook his head in a mix of disbelief and amazement. "Even
dangerous after death."

	The next part of the Praxeum that the two Jedi entered was the
residential area, where any Jedi who happened to be at the Praxeum stayed.
Dellen glanced inside the open door of an unoccupied room. The small room,
more like a closet in fact, was sparsely furnished with only the minimum
necessities. The bed didn't look terribly comfortable, but it was probably
better than a freighter's berth.

	"That's about all there is here," Dorsk explained, motioning for
the Jedi Master to return downstairs. Dellen followed without any further
questions. By the time they had reached the entry of the Praxeum, Dellen
noticed a sandy-haired man, dressed in black, standing and talking to one
of the other Jedi.

	"Oh, there's Master Skywalker," Dorsk exclaimed before hurrying
over. In the meantime, Dellen took a hard look at the sandy-haired man,
noticing a distinct resemblance to Anakin Skywalker.

	By now Dorsk 82 had gained the Jedi Master's attention and brought
him over to Dellen. "Master Skywalker?" he began. "This is Master Dellen."

	Luke gave Dellen a puzzled glance after they had exchanged polite
bows.

	"A pleasure to meet you. I understand that you're the last Jedi
Master remaining," Dellen said after the formalities had been exchanged.

	"We've been trying to change that," Skywalker said with a slight
laugh, "but if you are what you claim to be then I am no longer the only
Jedi Master." A more serious look came into his face. "What brings you to
the Praxeum?"

	Dellen extracted a datachip from a pocket in his robe and handed
it to Skywalker. "The message on that should explain the situation better
than I could. Do you have a conference room we can use?"

	Luke eyed the old datachip somewhat suspiciously. "I suppose, but
we need to keep it brief since I need to return to Yavin Four soon. Follow
me."

	As they walked toward the meeting room, Luke turned to the other
Jedi. "You aren't the same Master Dellen who was assigned to the Outbound
Flight, were you?"

	"Actually, I am," Dellen replied as they rounded a corner and
entered the conference room. Seeing Luke's inquisitive stare, he
continued. "I'm not a clone, though."

	"In that case," Luke paused but momentarily, "how did you survive
Thrawn's ambush? And why do you look to be only my age?"

	Dellen sighed as Luke inserted the datachip into a tabletop
reader. "I was sleeping when the ambush happened, so the message on the
datachip can probably tell you more about the attack than I could. But as
for my age, we entered a roughly sixty-year hibernation after the attack."

	Both Jedi remained silent as the hologram of a middle-aged captain
appeared.

	"I am Captain Avin of the Bulk Cruiser Ny'lith Boro, attached to
the Outbound Flight. This message was intended to be delivered by Master
Dellen, one of the six Jedi Masters assigned to the Project.

	"I have recorded this message because, sixty years ago, our ship
was attacked and nearly destroyed by unknown marauders. We survived the
ambush because our navigator, Master Fernas, executed a hyperspace jump
through a nearby black hole. However, that jump catapulted us eighty-five
million years into the future into a galaxy that I have learned is called
the Milky Way.

	"Our hyperdrive was rendered inoperable by the jump, and we
entered hibernation for the next sixty years as we cruised toward a nearby
starsystem at sublight. Our arrival in that system caught the attention of
a passing ship, whose human crew awakened us and helped us to repair our
hyperdrive. In return for their assistance, we have arranged to tow their
ship back to their home planet, which is on the other side of this galaxy.

	"We have included on this datachip the necessary information to
execute a hyperspace jump through the black hole, as well as the
coordinates of the human government we will be traveling to. As we will be
attempting to bring this government into the Republic, I request that the
Republic Senate consider sending a resupply mission, with additional
diplomats, to the provided coordinates."

	Finally, the recording ended, and Luke spoke cautiously. "So
Master Fernas blew the hyperdrive, yet you managed to escape, through a
black hole nonetheless. No wonder everyone thought you were dead."

	Dellen shrugged. There wasn't much more he could say.

	Luke took a deep breath. "Well, that explains the vision I had
several weeks ago," he said. "A brief battle between two fleets, centered
around a comet, then a ship that got pulled out of hyperspace..." He shook
his head. "Now it makes sense. I wish I had realized earlier."

	"It should," Dellen replied amiably. "Sixty years after we entered
hibernation, in reality only a few weeks ago, a passing ship noticed us
and accidentally awakened the crew. With their help we were able to
jury-rig the hyperdrive using parts from one of the shuttles. I went back
to the wormhole using the other shuttle, while everyone else headed across
the galaxy to meet with the home government of the other ship."

	"So you duplicated Master Fernas's trick and wound up back here,"
Luke finished for him, "except that your hyperdrive was also blown?"

	Dellen nodded, leaning back in his chair. "That's where Cathi,
that person you saw sitting by the door, came in. She stumbled across my
ship and brought me back here." He sighed. "More had changed here than I
had expected."

	"The rise of the Empire, its fall, and then the New Republic?"

	"More than that," Dellen said. "What happened to the Jedi Order?
It used to number in the tens of thousands, and now it seems there's only
about a couple hundred Jedi?"

	Luke bowed his head. "The Clone Wars took its toll on the Jedi,
and then the Emperor and his minions wiped the survivors out. Only a
handful survived the purges."

	"I see. The Clone Wars?"

	"A series of wars that broke out between the Republic and several
groups that were pushing for secession," Luke answered. "Led by the Trade
Federation and several other corporations if I recall. Unfortunately for
us, the Clone Wars also resulted in the destruction of many libraries, so
we only have sketchy records of what happened. Almost all records related
to the Jedi were destroyed, purposefully or by accident, and we've been
working from scratch since."

	"So that explains why so many of the traditions of the Jedi have
been lost," Dellen replied. "Although I'm not terribly surprised that the
Trade Federation was behind it. They were a pain the Republic's side for
years, and it seemed that we could never get rid of them."

	"We've been attempting to recover as many traditions as we can,"
Luke said. "About four years after the death of the Emperor, we discovered
the remains of the Chu'unthor, which helped immensely."

	Dellen nodded. "On Dathomir. Master Yoda used to tell us about the
natives of that planet, back when I was a mere padawan." The two shared
some laughter.

	"We defeated the Nightsisters as well," Luke said after they'd
finished. "Dathomir is now a part of the Hapes Cluster and is by extension
a part of the New Republic." He looked up at the chronometer. "Well, I
need to leave for the Academy now. Would you like to join Mara and
myself?"

	Dellen shrugged. "I'd actually be interested to see this Jedi
Academy," he said as he came to his feet. "But first I need to pay Cathi
for bringing me here."

	"We'll pay for you," Luke replied, and making sure to retrieve the
unused chip, exited the room. "What was your position with the Outbound
Flight?"

	"Historian," Dellen replied. "I was Master Jocasta Nu's assistant
in the Jedi Archives for several years."

	"Oh?" Luke seemed surprised. "In that case, I'm sure that Tionne
will be very eager to meet you. She's been studying everything we could
find on the Old Republic Jedi."



	Several minutes later, Dellen collected his crate of belongings
from the Headwind and went to the docking bay where the Skywalkers' ship
was berthed.

	"So that's your ship?" Dellen asked Luke, who nodded.

	"The Jade Sabre," Luke answered. "Mara and I designed her, and I
did a lot of the work on her."

	"Impressive ship." The transport's lines were smooth and vaguely
organic, with sweeping vertical tailfins running along both sides. The
large cockpit was at the front and in the center, a bubble on the nose of
the sleek ship. All in all, it was a rather large craft, perhaps sixty
meters in length...

	"She's like a cross between a shuttle and a light freighter," Luke
continued, pointing at a seam in the aft part of the ship, below and just
forward of the twin ion drives. "One thing that we built into it was a
docking port for either my X-wing or Mara's Headhunter." He smiled
knowingly. "I took a hint from my brother-in-law, a former smuggler, and
included a milspec shield generator as well."

	A prudent measure; the Jedi were never short of enemies, Dellen
reflected. "What about weapons?"

	"Besides the X-wing?" Both shared a laugh as they boarded the
transport. "It has a couple of quad turrets and a concussion missile
launcher."

	"Sounds like it would be useful in a fight," Dellen remarked.

	Luke agreed. "It's seen it's share of fights since we finished it
three years ago." The two entered the expansive, almost bridge-like
cockpit, where a red-headed woman was checking instruments. "Mara, this is
Master Dellen." He then turned to the other Jedi Master. "Master Dellen,
this is Mara, my wife."

	Dellen wanted to ask Luke about his having a wife, but he was
interrupted as Mara tried to grasp the notion that he was indeed a
survivor of the Outbound Flight. He rolled his eyes and went through the
expected battery of questions until Mara was satisfied.

	Finally, she looked down at her wrist chrono. "Well, our launch
window will be closing, so can we stop talking and finish prepping the
ship for takeoff?"

	The Jedi Master took a seat in the cockpit, somewhat ill at ease,
while Luke and Mara made their way around the ship to check things. After
a few minutes, they returned to the cockpit and sat down, bringing all the
systems online and contacting Coruscant traffic control. After another
minute, the Jade Sabre had left Coruscant orbit and jumped into
hyperspace; the two Jedi piloting the ship finally relaxed in their seats.

	"I'm rather curious," Dellen began, leaning forward toward Luke.
"How much do you know of the Jedi Code?"

	Luke mulled the question over for several moments. "We've
recovered bits and pieces of the Code," he replied. "Why do you ask?"

	"I had meant to bring this up when you introduced me to Mara,"
Dellen replied. "You see, the Jedi Code forbids marriage or emotional
attachment of any sort."

	Luke and Mara exchanged puzzled glances. "That wasn't in any of
the fragments we recovered, and Yoda never mentioned that." Luke finally
said. "Why would the Jedi Order forbid such attachments?"

	"I'm not sure of the precise reasons why, but from what I've
studied, the reasoning behind this rule was because emotional attachment
creates a certain fear for that other person's safety. That fear can
interfere with a Jedi's judgment."

	Luke nodded. "That makes sense, unfortunately." Sighing, he looked
straight at the other Jedi Master. "The Jedi have existed without that
rule for over twenty years now, and I feel that may be hard to change at
this point."

	"How many other Jedi are married?" Dellen inquired.

	"Out of about two hundred Jedi, perhaps a dozen are married," Luke
answered.

	"I see," Dellen observed with a sigh. "It seems that much work
will be required to bring the Jedi Order back to its former standing."

	"What do you mean by that?" Mara asked as a puzzled look crossed
her face.

	"Before the fall of the Republic," Dellen replied, hoping he got
the newer information correct, "the Jedi Order numbered in the tens of
thousands. We operated under the official sanction of the Republic Senate,
which funded us. The Jedi Council, which led the Order, answered directly
to the Supreme Chancellor."

	"So there was a Council," Luke mused. "Who comprised the Council?"

	"It varied," Dellen replied, "although Master Yoda and Master
Windu were almost permanent fixtures on it. The criteria for choosing new
Council members was very complicated."

	Luke nodded. "How were new Jedi trained?"

	Dellen sighed, almost imperceptibly. "It was a lifelong process.
The Jedi Knights would find Force-sensitive beings as soon as was
possible, and with the permission of the parents these children would be
taken to Coruscant. They would train as groups up until about the age of
12, when a Jedi Knight or Jedi Master would take a trainee as his or her
apprentice. After that, it would be up to the master to determine when a
padawan was ready to become a Jedi Knight."

	"So that's why Master Yoda said I was too old to train," Luke
murmured, looking out the wide cockpit window at the infinite swirls of
hyperspace.

	Dellen inclined his head. "You trained under Master Yoda?"

	He nodded. "Before that, old Ben Kenobi trained me."

	"How old were you?"

	"About sixteen when I found Ben. I started training under Yoda
after Ben's death... I was around nineteen then."

	The older Jedi Master leaned back in his chair and stretched his
somewhat stiff shoulder muscles. There was much that had happened in the
galaxy during his absence that he needed to catch up on, and he suspected
that he still wouldn't have much of it down by the time the Jade Sabre
arrived at Yavin IV.



* * *



	The Rock Dragon had much better medical facilities than the
Millennium Falcon, one being a smuggler's freighter and the other a
modified Hapan transport, Jacen reflected, but they were both equally
cramped.

	He sighed and turned his head to the side, noticing Tenel Ka and
Lowbacca attending to his sister's eye. His own wound didn't need much, as
some bacta and a simple synthflesh patch worked, but the poison had been a
little more difficult. Even so, after running through some Jedi
purification techniques he'd been taught, the numbness was finally leaving
his leg.

	It was still going to take a while to heal, he realized as he
rolled over. The leg still hung limply, and it was painfully obvious that
he'd be of no use in a melee. Not in his present condition, at least.

	Across the room, Jaina finally sat up on another fold-out medical
bed. For the time being, she wore a crude patch over her right eye. Then
she came to her feet and strode over to her brother, sitting down next to
him. "How's the leg feel?"

	"Not like much at all," Jacen admitted. He didn't have to answer,
given that as twins the two Jedi shared a sort of bond, but it was better
than listening to the computers hum while the other three Jedi were off
searching for anything at all in ExGal 4. "How about your eye?"

	"I think I pushed out most of the venom, but there was so much of
it..."

	He nodded. There wasn't much that they could do for her eye with
the limited facilities aboard the Hapan transport, and it would be a while
before they got back to anything that remotely resembled civilization.
With no person among them really trained in Jedi healing techniques, and
no field medics handy, nobody was even really sure how badly Jaina's eye
had been damaged by the staff's venom. "Think you'll still be able to
fly?" he asked.

	She snorted. "Doesn't look like I have much choice, for now at
least. I'm hoping that I won't have to get a bionic eye, but..." Jaina
shrugged, then stood up. Moments later she returned with a dejarik board.
"I'll play you."



	The other three Jedi returned around a half-hour later. Each
carried a crate of material except for Tenel Ka, who couldn't carry a
crate and hold a lightsaber at the same time; as a result, she was
bringing up the rear.

	"Here," Kyp said as he tossed a couple of medpacks at the twins.
"I think these ought to be useful."

	Jaina frowned. "You looted the base?"

	"Just putting some abandoned supplies to better use," Kyp said
with a laugh. "It's not like Yomin Carr could find any use for those in
his current state."

	Shaking her head at Kyp, Jaina tore open one medpack and pulled a
bacta patch out of it. After making sure that it was still fresh, she
flipped up her eyepatch and took off the old bacta patch, then applied the
fresh one.

	In the meantime, the others were busy unpacking the crates. Tenel
Ka handed Jacen a simple glass jar containing one of the brown beetles.
"We found this in the station commander's room," she explained.

	"Looks like they did know about the beetles after all," Jacen
remarked, giving the jar back. 

	"Yeah," Kyp agreed. "Then we found these."

	Jacen craned his neck to get a better view of the stuff that had
just been put on the dejarik table. In the middle were two roughly ovoid,
purplish blob creatures. "What the kriff are those?"

	"Communications devices, or rather creatures, of some sort. They
were in Yomin Carr's room. One was already dead when we found them."

	"And the other?"

	Kyp frowned. "It came alive when we touched its front ridge.
That's how we found out it was for communication. Some other alien of the
same species as Yomin Carr answered, and laughed when he saw me. He warned
me that I'm going to be, ah, dead if I keep sticking my nose in where it
doesn't belong." The Jedi chuckled at that. "Then he broke the link or
whatever. We haven't managed to get this thing to respond since then."

	Jacen grabbed a makeshift crutch and hopped off the medical bed,
making sure not to put weight on his left leg. Then he ambled over to
where the strange, blob-shaped creatures were and put a hand on the one
Kyp had indicated was alive.

	He normally had a talent with any kind of alien life, in that he
could easily communicate with it, but in this case his talent didn't help
him; the creature was obviously dead. He shrugged. "I guess we could stick
them in a stasis chamber to keep them from decomposing... further." He
wrinkled his nose slightly. They were already beginning to smell bad, or
maybe that was how they normally smelled. He decided not to push the
thought further.

	"Yeah," Kyp agreed as Lowbacca took both dead creatures into the
cargo hold. "Well, there's nothing more to find down here. How about we
head off for Helska now?"

	Jacen looked down at his leg. Injuries or no injuries, they
couldn't forget about the scientists who had gone to Helska. "Maybe we
should have gone there first."

	"I think Lowbacca and Jaina can pilot this ship," Tenel Ka finally
said. "Jacen and I should be able to handle the turrets."

	"Then that's settled," Kyp said, turning and heading for the ramp.
"Meet you guys in orbit."

	A few minutes later the Rock Dragon broke orbit and vanished into
hyperspace.



	So this is Helska, Jacen reflected from his upside-down position
in the ventral gun turret as the Rock Dragon dropped out of hyperspace
along with the Avengers. It had seven planets in all, including a couple
of gas giants in the outer system. Looks like any other system.

	He found himself somewhat dizzied by all the movement; so as to
hopefully avoid detection, all of Kyp's squadron was looping and rolling
as they moved, seemingly on the edge of disaster but in reality highly
coordinated. He whistled softly. They were good pilots.

	"We've got a lot of activity around the fourth planet," Jaina
called from the cockpit.

	Tenel Ka broke into the comm. "I thought it was supposed to be
uninhabited?"

	"It's not now."

	"Any hostiles yet?" Kyp asked when there was a lull in chatter.
Jacen had almost forgotten that the Rock Dragon had the best sensor kit of
any of the ships flying with Kyp...

	"I'm reading what looks like an asteroid field in orbit around the
fourth planet," Jaina replied, "along with a large moon. All have
lifesigns."

	"Don't tell me we came all the way out here to find a mining
operation," Miko said, his voice dripping with so much sarcasm that Jacen
imagined he could catch the excess in a bucket.

	"Cut the chatter," Kyp called. "We've got incomings. Rock Dragon,
do you have readings on them? Identification?"

	"Negative," Jaina replied. "Bunch of asteroids, came from the
fifth planet."

	"Let me get this straight, a bunch of asteroids just broke orbit
and decided to come over here?"

	"I said cut the chatter, Miko."

	There was an audible sigh. "Roger that."

	"Rock Dragon," Kyp continued, "do you have any sign of the
scientists yet?"

	"Negative." There was a pause. "Those asteroids are accelerating."

	"Then they aren't asteroids," Kyp replied. "Shields up, weapons
ready. Mark them as potentially hostile and scan all frequencies for comm
traffic."

	Suddenly, Jacen's targeting screen was awash with yellow dots.
"Blaster bolts," he muttered to himself. There must be around a hundred of
them.

	"No comm traffic," Jaina reported. "They seem to be
well-coordinated."

	"Strange," Kyp remarked. "Hang on, we've got something inbound."

	"Rocks."

	"What?"

	They're firing rocks at us? Jacen wondered.

	"Slight correction," Jaina dryly said, "they're molten rocks.
Re-designating incoming group as hostile."

	There was a snort. "Rocks? What are they going to do next, start
throwing sticks at us?"

	"Miko," Kyp warned, obviously getting annoyed at his wingmate.
"Avengers, break formation on my mark." He waited until the two sides had
almost closed to visual range. "Mark."

	Shortly after the squadron split into pairs, they found themselves
in the middle of what would best be described as a swarm. Jacen opened
fire along with everyone else, and space was suddenly awash with the
streaks of tracers and the strange molten missiles of the enemy.

	He paused for a moment, in between bursts, to take a look at one
of the enemy ships that was flying low below him, and noticed its roughly
aerodynamic shape, transparent canopy, and even stranger-looking pilot. So
they're starfighters, he thought before nailing the fighter with a burst
from his twin laser cannons.

	The first shot... vanished? he wondered, but the second powerful
shot caught the fighter squarely in the center and blew it into a cloud of
molten debris. As he looked around, he noticed that the rest of the
Avengers were faring just as well against these crazy fighters.

	"Jacen, stay sharp," Tenel Ka pointed out from the other turret.
Jolted, he noticed a few of the fighters had strayed close to his
position, so he resumed firing. The first blew up immediately, but he
found that he had to put several bursts into the second before it was also
destroyed.

	"They seem to be diverting our fire," he finally remarked. "And
they're getting better at it."

	"Won't help them," Miko replied. "We've already killed over half
of them."

	"I'm picking up a lot of small gravity cones," Jaina reported from
the cockpit. "They're driving the navicomp nuts, just like an Interdictor
would."

	Jacen stole another glance at one of the alien fighters. No
engines...

	"They must be using that for propulsion," Kyp remarked for him.
"I'm not reading any conventional shields, either."

	The Hapan transport abruptly changed course, throwing Jacen's aim
off. Then he noticed a heavy barrage of molten rock sail below him. The
numbers were finally getting balanced, with roughly two alien fighters for
every member of the Dozen-and-Two Avengers. To be fair, however, the
Avengers hadn't suffered a single loss yet.

	"Shields down!" someone shouted.

	Of course, there is such a thing as speaking too soon, Jacen
reflected as all hell broke loose.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN



    "Computer, seal the doors to this room. No entry without my authorization."
    Ph'ngu Reco sighed as he compared the two voice graphs, one from the actual 
recording he'd found in an obscure log in Voyager's computer and the other one 
produced by a partially disassembled 3PO protocol droid that was sitting beside 
him. The voice graphs still differed too much for him to risk testing the 
authorization codes live.
    Frustrated, he kicked a loose bundle of wires, sending them halfway across the 
computer room. It certainly didn't help that he didn't have the handy Universal 
Translators that the Voyager crew posessed. What was worse was that the Federation 
kept several obscure languages in use, rather than standardizing on one language 
like the Republic had done in time immemorial. No wonder the protocol droids were 
going nuts trying to tell the different variants apart.
    He waited for the 3PO unit's vocal processor to make the changes before he 
tried comparing them again. This time, the graphs were almost identical, but 
still...
    "Kriff it," he muttered as he pulled some wires out of the 3PO's interface box 
and plugged them directly into a terminal. He then switched to another terminal and 
tapped in some commands before going back to the first terminal.

    PERMISSION GRANTED

    The slicer breathed a sigh of relief. He found the Federation's insistence on 
relying on such keyphrase/voiceprint combinations to be almost comical, given the 
ease with which such combinations could usually be cracked. Then again, this 
Federation's technology was rather lacking in certain areas, so maybe that was to 
be expected.
    He paused as his display gave him a list of choices, roughly translated into 
Basic. None of the choices presented were exactly what he wanted...
    The slicer stood up and walked across the room to a cabinet that was full of 
datachips. He sifted through the datachips until he found one he wanted, then 
walked back and plugged it into his terminal. It was a rather simplistic system 
worm that he'd designed when he was on Coruscant for the purpose of compromising a 
transit system database.
    He smiled at the memory. Those were the days when he was still a street urchin 
on Coruscant, before he'd managed to give himself a nicely paid position in the 
Jedi Temple. While he'd found it to be an exciting challenge to defeat the security 
systems of the Temple, getting past the Jedi had been impossible... and that had 
been how he'd wound up on this ship.
    Blinking, he looked at the chrono mounted haphazardly on one of the equipment 
racks, and decided to hold off on rewriting the worm for the alien system until he 
had some food in his stomach.

    Roughly three days later, Reco idly scrolled through the results that the worm 
had sent back across the flimsy ship-to-ship data couplings. For one ship, it had 
quite a treasure trove of information on this entire Federation...
    He was interrupted by a knock at the door, and quickly looked over at the 
holocam monitor. He quickly exhaled a sigh of relief and stood up. "Come in, 
Captain."
    Captain Avin carefully stepped over the bundles of wires as he entered. "Do you 
have the data I requested?"
    "Most of it, Sir," Reco replied nonchalantly. "I'm about ninety percent done 
with their database."
    Avin frowned. "What took so long? We're pulling out of hyperspace today and 
this needs to be finished."
    Ph'ngu sighed and sat back down. "Whatever this Federation might have in the 
way of sophisticated electronics, they certainly don't know how to use them."
    "What makes you say that?" the Captain asked, his curiousity piqued.
    "Permission to speak freely?"
    "Go ahead."
    Reco glanced at a terminal before leaning back and looking directly at the 
Captain. "Well, let me just put it this way: Whatever the people who designed the 
LCARS system were smoking, I want some of it. They have some of the worst 
algorithms I've ever seen. Their built-in search routines are sequential, so it 
takes practically forever to search for anything, and on top of that the search 
routines display all the data being searched through on the console. The closest 
thing to that I've ever seen was in a civilization that was barely entering the 
spacefaring stage."
    "You're a slicer. You know how to get around that sort of thing," Avin replied, 
obviously not understanding.
    "It's not that simple," Reco replied with a look of annoyance. "I coded a worm 
to insert into their system to get around the inefficiencies, but it took a full 
day to get it working properly. They have a massive, rather redundant database as 
well, and the worm has been sifting through it for the past couple days." He pulled 
a datachip off a nearby stack and inserted it into his console. After a few 
moments, he extracted the chip and handed it to the Captain. "Here's a copy of the 
results so far."
    Avin nodded as he took the chip. "I expect you to be finished in two hours 
exactly, because that's when we drop out of hyperspace."
    "I will, Sir." Reco blinked as the Captain left the room. Two hours? He knew it 
was close, but not that close...
    He turned back to the terminal and quickly sent some commands to the worm, 
which promptly dumped the data it had collected so far. 91%. Not enough. Reco 
switched to a command list and looked for any other programs on Voyager that he 
could kill without arousing too much attention...


    "Acting Captain Chakotay to the Bridge," a voice buzzed over the comm.  Still 
in a groggy state, Chakotay slipped out of his bed and hurried over to the sonic 
shower, managing to stub his toes on a piece of furniture that he didn't recall 
putting there. What a way to start the day, he mused.
    "Shower on," he commanded. Nothing happened.
    "Computer, shower on," he commanded, more forcefully this time. After several 
more unsuccessful tries, he gave up and went back into his quarters and grabbed a 
comb. He ran it through his hair several times in front of a mirror until he was 
mostly satisfied with it, then half walked, half stumbled to a dresser and grabbed 
a clean uniform from it. Chakotay quickly put it on, cursing in an ancient American 
language as he realized that he'd put his shirt on backwards. After correcting his 
mistake, he rapidly clipped his rank pips to the collar and left for the nearest 
turbolift. On the way out, he managed to bash his head on the door, which elicited 
a few more choice responses.
    When he finally reached the Bridge, still rubbing his head, he was immediately 
informed that they were about to drop out of hyperspace in several minutes. 
Wearily, he took his seat in the captain's chair, and then activated the comm. 
"Bridge to Engineering. B'Elanna, do you know of any problems with the sonic 
showers?"
    "No. Why do you ask?"
    "The sonic shower in my quarters wasn't responding to voice commands," he 
replied.
    "We'll look into it," B'Elanna replied.
    Chakotay forced a bemused smile. Here they were, only a minute away from a home 
that none of the crew had seen for several years, and he was worried about the 
sonic showers.


    Deep in the data center, Ph'ngu anxiously glanced at the timer that he'd set up 
to tell him when they were coming out of hyperspace. The worm was telling him that 
it had processed about 99% of the records, but there were only 30 seconds left, and 
he needed to disconnect and clean up before they separated the ships...
    Come on, he silently urged the program as the seconds counted down.
    The progress indicator finally changed to 100%, and Reco let out a sigh before 
switching to another terminal and starting to clean his tracks.


    "We have reverted from hyperspace," Seven observed from behind Chakotay as 
Voyager's inertial compensators struggled with a sharp change in velocity. For a 
moment he wondered if he'd get thrown from his seat, but it stabilized after a 
moment.
    "Main viewer on," he instructed. The viewscreen snapped on, showing a 
breathtaking view of Earth. Moments later, Chakotay drew in a sharp breath. "We're 
inside the Mars Defense Perimeter," he muttered. "Lieutenant Kim, contact Starfleet 
Command and tell them that we are not hostile."
    Just as the lieutenant reached for the comm controls, the bridge lights 
suddenly dimmed and then went out altogether, along with every other system on the 
bridge. Chakotay found that he had problems seeing anything at all, considering 
that the emergency lights had refused to come on as they were supposed to.
    "What the hell just happened?"
    "Unknown," Tuvok replied from his position at the security station. There was 
some tapping sounds as if he was ineffectually trying to access an LCARS terminal. 
"It appears to be a complete power failure."
    Chakotay hit his commbadge. "Bridge to Engineering. We've suffered a power 
failure, can you give us any information?"
    There was a long pause before the reply came. "Torres here. I'm not sure what 
happened, we had just brought the warp core back online and everything failed. As 
far as we know, it's ship-wide."
    Chakotay came to his feet, wishing that the emergency lights were working, and 
tried to make his way to the bridge ready room without tripping on anyone or 
anything. "Fuck it, does anyone have a light?" he finally asked after ramming his 
foot into the steps. After several tries, he found the ready room door and felt 
around the wall for the emergency release. Once he'd tripped the release, he then 
went back to the doors and pried them apart, letting some reflected sunlight onto 
the Bridge.
    His commbadge chirped again. "Chakotay here."
    "Commander, we think we've found the problem. The main computer and the backup 
both went down, and they somehow brought all the other systems with them. We're 
restarting the main computer right now, but it will take about five minutes."


    "Why do we always get general alerts in Spacedock?" Captain Gail Hancock of the 
Excelsior-class starship USS Hercules complained, throwing an angry glare at the 
bridge dome. Naturally, she reflected, whenever some potentially hostile alien 
vessel showed up by Earth there were almost no Starfleet vessels around to 
investigate. She sometimes wondered if the universe was out to get the Federation.
    Still, a general alert meant that any nearby starship had to respond 
immediately. This meant that she had no choice—even if her aging Excelsior was only 
halfway through its long-overdue refitting process.
    She turned to the helm officer. "Get us out of here, maximum thrusters."
    "Aye, Captain," the officer replied.
    Gail glanced up at the viewscreen, noticing one other starship, a four-nacelled 
Cheyenne, begin to slide out of its berth as well. As if two ships would make much 
difference if the Borg had returned.
    Soon they had passed Spacedock's doors, and both ships were approaching the 
intruder at full impulse.
    "Lieutenant Gordon, can you get me a better view of the intruder?" Gail asked 
after a moment. The comm officer did as requested, and soon the viewscreen 
displayed what could possibly have been the bastard child of an Intrepid and a Borg 
Cube.
    Several people on the bridge swore under their breaths, while Captain Hancock 
merely frowned. "Lieutenant, see if you can read the markings on that Intrepid 
primary hull."
    Again, Lieutenant Gordon manipulated the viewscreen, and after a moment the 
badly-scorched primary hull came into view. Despite all the burn marks in the hull, 
the numbers remained clearly visible: NCC 74656.
    Gail's jaw dropped slightly. "My God," she muttered. "It's Voyager."
    "Should I power down the phasers?" came the inquiry from Tactical.
    "No!" Gail half-snapped, causing the officer at Tactical to recoil slightly. 
"Keep them up. We still don't know if they're hostile or not."
    "Yes, ma'am."
    Gail turned toward Lieutenant Gordon. "Comm, open hailing frequencies to 
Voyager."
    "Hailing frequencies open, no response yet."
    The captain frowned. Surely Voyager's captain knew Starfleet protocols? "Scan 
all frequencies, they might be transmitting on a non-standard one."
    After several seconds had passed, Lieutenant Gordon looked up. "I have a signal 
from the ship, audio only."
    "Put it on."
    The voice was garbled slightly, but remained intelligible. "-is Captain Avin of 
the Republic ship-" The transmission cut off at that point.
    Gail looked at Lieutenant Gordon before replying. "This is Captain Gail Hancock 
of the Federation starship USS Hercules. Be warned that although you are docked 
with a Federation starship, you are within the Mars defense perimeter and 
precautions will be taken if you show any signs of hostility."
    Lieutenant Gordon mouthed "Video" at the Captain, who nodded as the image of 
the strange captain appeared on the viewscreen. Her eyes widened slightly as the 
image stabilized; the captain appeared to be, for all extents and purposes, human.
    "I apologize for the transmission problems earlier," he began. "We had arranged 
with the crew of Voyager to tow their starship here to Earth, but just after we 
reverted to realspace their ship's systems went dead. I have been informed that 
they are currently bringing their systems back up."
    Gail glanced over at Tactical. "Scans?"
    "He seems to be telling the truth, Captain."
    She nodded. "We appreciate your hospitality, but Starfleet Command requests 
that you move your ship away from Earth orbit."
    "Captain?" Tactical interrupted.
    "What is it?"
    "I'm picking up a power surge aboard Voyager, indicative of a core breach in 
progress." The officer frowned. "Their core ejection hatch is pointed at the other 
ship's midsection."
    Gail turned back toward the viewscreen. "My tactical officer informs me that 
Voyager has a warp core breach in progress, and that your ship is blocking the core 
ejection hatch."
    Captain Avin's face paled noticeably. "Understood." He turned away slightly and 
began to give orders. Gail watched as the frameworks connecting the two ships 
together were suddenly jettisoned, and free from its burden, the Republic ship 
began to pull away from Voyager.
    "Voyager's main power seems to be back up," Lieutenant Gordon reported.
    "Hail them," Gail said, wasting no time.
    Another man appeared on the viewscreen, his face partly covered by a tattoo. 
Gail vaguely recognized him as a... wanted Maquis leader? She blinked in surprise 
but spoke anyway. "Captain, I cannot waste time on formalities. You have a warp 
core breach in progress."


    "Lieutenant Torres, what the hell is going on down there?" Chakotay's voice 
carried overbarelythe din of alarms and general panic in Engineering.
    "I'm not sure," B'Elanna temporized as she directed several crewmen around. 
"All we know is that the computer reboot wreaked havoc with the warp core."
    "Yes, I know," Chakotay's irritated reply came back. "Another ship informed me. 
Can you get it under control?"
    "We're trying, but the containment systems are all screwed up." The engineer 
tried one of the consoles, which promptly displayed some garbage and then died. "I 
think we'll have to eject it. Are we clear?"
    "The Republic ship has already undocked and should be clear now."
    "Good," Torres replied, running over to the ladder and climbing up to the 
second level. She reached another LCARS console and quickly began entering 
commands.
    "Core breach in 50 seconds and counting," the computer announced in the same 
tone it might use to announce the brewing of a cup of tea. Torres wished she could 
give the computer a good whack but refrained from doing so, instead continuing to 
enter commands into the console.
    "Ejection sequence started."
    "Damnit," the half-Klingon engineer swore as an error message flashed up on the 
console. The ejection doors would have to jam up!
    "Core breach in 40 seconds and counting. Ejection sequence aborted."
    B'Elanna gritted her teeth and tried again, closing the ejection hatch.
    "Ejection sequence started. Core breach in 30 seconds and counting."
    This time the doors opened smoothly, and the long warp core began to slide out. 
Containment fields appeared around it to prevent the air from being blown out of 
Engineering, and B'Elanna watched in relief as it disappeared through the floor.
    "Core breach in 20 seconds and counting. Warp core ejected."
    A ragged cheer went up from the assembled engineers as Voyager surged to full 
impulse to get clear of the unstable warp core.


    "Starfleet Command isn't going to be very happy about having a hot core in 
Earth orbit," Gail half-muttered as she watched the whole process unfold.
    "It's starting to stabilize," Lieutenant Gordon remarked. "Reactants are 
venting."
    Good, she thought. "Open the channel to Voyager again."
    "Channel open."
    Gail nodded. "Voyager, this is Captain Hancock of the USS Hercules." She paused 
for a moment. "May I inquire as to what happened to Captain Janeway?"
    "I am Commander Chakotay, Voyager's acting captain," the other replied. 
"Captain Janeway was temporarily removed by the orders of the Chief Medical Officer 
and is confined to her quarters with an escort."
    "Understood," Gail acknowledged, with a slight smile on her face despite 
herself. "Welcome back, Voyager. I believe you'll find a homecoming party waiting 
for you at Spacedock."
    Chakotay grinned, if briefly. "I wouldn't expect anything else." He grew more 
serious after a moment, however. "The Republic ship that brought us here is hoping 
to open diplomatic talks with the Federation. I trust you can relay that message to 
Starfleet Command?"
    Gail nodded.


    On Voyager, Chakotay leaned back wearily in the command chair as they continued 
toward Spacedock at half impulse. Voyager would certainly need an extended 
refitting; four years' worth of damage couldn't be repaired overnight...
    "Earth," he sighed, looking around the bridge. For the first time in as long as 
he could remember, the entire bridge crew was smiling, and he could just make out 
tears on many crew members' faces. So they were homebut how much had home changed?


* * *


    Ph'ngu swallowed nervously as Captain Avin knocked at the door. "Come in."
    "What exactly did you do to Voyager? You nearly killed us all," Avin said in a 
no-nonsense tone.
    "The worm malfunctioned," Reco answered, pulling a datachip off the ever-
growing stack. "I did get all of the data you requested, however."
    Avin took the chip and pocketed it without looking. "Exactly how did it 
malfunction, and can it be traced back to us?"
    Reco shrugged. "From what I could tell, the worm activated a bug or something 
like one in their system, causing the whole thing to shut down. I made sure to wipe 
my tracks before that, so aside from really bad timing, there's no real way they 
can trace us."
    "Good." Avin turned to exit. "Since this never happened, I can't do anything to 
you, but I'm just going to warn you that if I ever need your services again, I 
don't want any screw-ups."
    "Understood, Captain."
    Reco waited for the Captain to exit before he returned to his terminal. 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN


    "You let them escape?"
    Commander Skravi Krel considered the question that the Prefect had posed. He 
was standing in a moderate-sized cavern that had been hollowed out of Helska IV's 
icy crust by the gigantic boring creatures that the Praetorite Vong employed. 
Already icy stalagmites had formed on the ceiling, their sharp points aimed 
downward like a yammosk's teeth. The floor, although ice, was fortunately covered 
in debris.
    "I do not believe they escaped," Skravi eventually replied. "Although two ships 
managed to flee, several grutchins had attached themselves to those ships."
    Prefect Da'Gara narrowed his lidless eyes, his red robes folding about him as 
he moved closer toward the commander. "But how can you be so sure? The one that we 
captured at great expense told us that the two metal-craft that escaped were 
piloted by other jeedai." The Prefect straightened and began to circle about the 
commander. "While you may be correct, there is no way I can know for sure."
    Skravi Krel wanted to say something insulting, but knew that such a move would 
be pointless and ultimately fatal. In the meantime, the Prefect continued stalking 
around him in a circle.
    "It is becoming apparent to me that you are ill-suited to commanding the 
defense of this foothold. The Executor has informed me of a region in this galaxy 
that no scouts or spies have returned from for the past fifty years. I am assigning 
you a Miid Ro'ik and several escorts. You will go into that region, find out who it 
is that is hindering our progress, and destroy them. You will only return if you 
are successful."
    Skravi bowed, wincing at the very idea as he did so. Although the Miid Ro'ik 
was roughly equal in size to the infidels' rather presumptuously-named Star 
Destroyer, it was horribly outmatched in terms of firepower. Yet Prefect Da'Gara 
expected him to single-handedly conquer the one region of space that Yuuzhan Vong 
scouts had encountered the most trouble in? /No,/ his mind answered itself. The 
Prefect expected to get rid of him.
    Commander Krel resolved at that moment to prove Da'Gara wrong. "Belek Tiu," he 
said, snapping his fists against his shoulders. The phrase loosely translated to "I 
do as you command" in Basic.


* * *


    Luke Skywalker danced back a step to avoid being scored with the azure 
lightsaber blade that his opponent wielded. Out of the corner of his eye, he could 
see his wife, Mara Jade, observing the lightsaber duel in the Jade Sabre's sparring 
room with a bemused expression.
    He rapidly blocked a flurry of blows from his opponent before shifting to the 
offensive again, his strokes seeming like a blur to the naked eye. Yet his opponent 
countered every stroke and finished with a blow so hard that it knocked the 
lightsaber free from Luke's hand.
    The emerald lightsaber arced through the air for a moment before the automatic 
cutoff extinguished the emerald blade. Luke's lightsaber clattered to the deck of 
the Jade Sabre as Master Dellen shut his azure blue lightsaber off.
    "Your style is interesting," Dellen remarked as Luke called his lightsaber back 
and clipped it to his belt. "It appears to be mainly Form Six with a very strong 
Form Five influence, so it's far more intense than Form Six by itself."
    Luke nodded. "Neither Obi-Wan nor Yoda mentioned lightsaber forms to me. They 
just trained me as quickly as they could."
    "Obi-Wan Kenobi was a Form Three user, as I recall," Dellen said after thinking 
for a moment. "Master Yoda was Form Four. And the sixth form is a combination of 
many, so you probably developed your own variation of it since you studied under so 
many Masters."
    Across the room, Luke sat down alongside Mara. "What form do you use?"
    Dellen shrugged, looking out the large viewports of the sparring room at the 
mottled tunnel-like sky of hyperspace. "I've studied all the forms," he finally 
said. "However, as a historian, I came to appreciate Form Two the most."
    "What is Form Two?" Mara asked, her curiosity finally getting the better of 
her.
    "It's one of the most ancient forms," Dellen explained as he stepped away from 
the viewport. "It was rarely used when we left, since it's optimized for saber 
combat and blasters were, and apparently still are, the most common weapon in use."
    "Hokey religions are no match for a blaster at your side," Luke said with a wry 
grin on his face after a moment, echoing Han's words from so many years before. 
When Dellen looked at him curiously, he explained. "My brother-in-law told me that 
well over twenty years ago, when Obi-Wan was just starting to train me."
    "An all too common attitude," Dellen agreed.

    Several minutes later, the Jade Sabre was gliding through Yavin IV's atmosphere 
in much the same way that a rock doesn't. Mara expertly brought it to a hover over 
the time and battle-worn landing pad before slipping it into the expanded hangar 
bay below the Great Temple.
    "Welcome to the Jedi Academy," Luke remarked as the trio walked down the 
Sabre's landing ramp. "I'm afraid it's not quite up to the standards of the Jedi 
Temple as you've described it, but it suffices."
    Dellen glanced with curiosity at a small and almost oily-skinned ship nearby in 
the hangar. "That's an interesting-looking ship."
    "The Shadow Chaser." Luke nodded as the three Jedi continued toward the hangar 
turbolift. "We relieved a Dark Jedi training facility of it several years ago. It's 
rarely used, but it is nice to have for emergencies."
    The turbolift doors slid open, and they stepped inside. "What is its hull made 
of?" Dellen finally asked. "I've never seen any hull material with that particular 
sheen."
    Luke frowned briefly. "It's an experimental armor that was designed by an 
Imperial research center in the Maw Cluster," he explained. "Extremely tough, 
although not invincible."
    "I can see why it would be useful," Dellen agreed as the turbolift shot upward 
to the residential levels of the pyramid. He shifted his crate of belongings and 
waited for the doors to open.
    The doors opened out on yet another stone corridor, its floor polished by 
either droids or years of use—Dellen couldn't decide which, but figured it was 
probably the latter. They walked a short distance down the hallway before Luke 
stopped at a door and punched a code into its control box. The door slid open 
noiselessly, and Luke looked expectantly at Dellen. "You can use this room as your 
quarters for now," he explained.
    The older Jedi Master stepped inside and looked around the simple room, nodding 
to himself as he did so. Despite having lost so many of the old traditions, the new 
Jedi at least realized the virtue of humility. The quarters were rather spartan, 
with the walls and floor of the same unadorned stone as the rest of the temple. A 
single transparisteel window let light, and also air into the room; there was an 
equally spartan bed in one corner as well as a chair and desk at the other end of 
the room.
    Dellen put his crate down on the desk and began to unpack it, shaking his head 
as he pulled the tricorder out of it. What use is this thing? He set the tricorder 
down on the desk and hung his spare garments up in an alcove that served as the 
room's closet.
    Luke was still waiting outside by the time Dellen emerged, but Mara was nowhere 
to be seen. "You mentioned on the way here that you've been having difficulties 
keeping the Jedi together," Dellen remarked as the two set off through the Great 
Temple's cool corridors.
    Skywalker nodded. "A number of Jedi have taken it upon themselves to be the 
police of the galaxy, and the Senate isn't very happy about it."
    "In other words, vigilantes," Dellen observed. "How are the Jedi governed right 
now?"
    "Right now... badly, I would say." As they walked through a suspended 
transparisteel walkway over one of the lightsaber training rooms, Luke idly watched 
a sparring match between a couple of trainees. "It's mostly democratic at this 
point, and I periodically call all the Jedi together to discuss matters. We learned 
a little about the Jedi Council from some of the few records that hadn't been 
destroyed, but unfortunately I'm not sure how we could go about setting it back 
up."
    Dellen raised his eyebrows slightly. "That, at least, should be easy to 
remedy."

    After they had toured most of the Temple, the two Jedi walked to the Academy's 
cafeteria and ordered some food. As they sat down to eat, Dellen looked up. "This 
Academy is fairly impressive, I must admit," he said.
    Luke smiled wanly. "I'm glad you find it that way. It's been hard getting it to 
this point, however."
    "The attacks you mentioned while we were on the Jade Sabre?"
    Skywalker nodded, taking a bite of the bruallki on his plate. He chewed it for 
a while before speaking again. "At least five times now."
    Before Dellen could say anything more, a blue-domed astromech trundled up to 
the table. It beeped and warbled rapidly before Luke raised a hand. "I get it, 
Artoo. We'll be down there in a moment."
    Dellen inclined his head in mild surprise. "You can understand astromechs?"
    Luke shrugged as he quickly cleaned his plate. "Just the gist of what they're 
beeping about. I was an X-wing pilot for the Rebellion for several years, so I 
couldn't always rely on translators." His plate now empty, he stood up. "There's 
apparently a couple of damaged ships coming in for a landing. Feel free to come 
with me."

    "Not a very pretty sight," Dellen remarked as they stepped out of the turbolift 
and began to stride toward the outside landing pad. A heavily damaged X-wing, its 
cockpit canopy missing and its landing gear retracted, was sitting alongside a 
transport that Dellen vaguely recognized as having Hapan styling. The X-wing had 
some sort of creature trapped between one set of foils, while the transport's hull 
was covered in carbon scoring.
    Luke frowned as they reached the two ships. "Only two... and they left with a 
dozen." They walked around to the side of the transport where the ramp was located, 
and waited for it to extend. The first person down the ramp wore an orange flight 
suit. "Kyp Durron," Luke muttered, although he kept whatever thoughts he had on the 
matter to himself.
    Kyp wore a haggard expression on his face, and it was fairly apparent that he 
had not slept much in the past several days. "We were attacked by an unknown force 
over Helska Four," he offered. "Miko went down on the planet, but we weren't able 
to rescue him."
    "What happened to the rest of your squadron?" Skywalker inquired.
    Kyp hung his head, looking down at the pavement. "They're dead," he finally 
replied in a serious tone. "We were outnumbered, but things were going well for us 
until these aliens found a way to bring down our shields."
    Dellen walked over to the X-wing and peered at the strange creature that was 
trapped between its S-foils. The creature, surprisingly, was still alive and he 
could hear its teeth grinding. "What is this thing?" he found himself asking.
    Kyp turned away from Skywalker for a moment to see what the other Jedi Master 
was talking about. "That? I have no idea. Some sort of silicon-based lifeform. One 
of them chewed through my astromech and then started on my cockpit canopy. That one 
disabled one of my engines and my hyperdrive."
    Further conversation stopped as several more people came down the transport's 
ramp. Dellen blinked in surprise; the only one who didn't seem to be hurt was a 
Wookiee with mottled golden fur. The first person down the ramp, a red-haired woman 
in a flightsuit, was missing one arm. The man that followed her didn't seem to be 
in much better shape, making his way down on makeshift crutches. Alongside him, a 
woman who bore strong resemblance to him wore a patch over one eye...
    Luke shook his head. "I haven't seen you guys in this bad shape for a long 
time, but at least you're alive."
    "Barely," the man with the crutches muttered.
    "Cilghal's in the Great Temple, Jacen. I think you and Jaina should see her 
first, and then we can talk about what happened."
    While the two wounded Jedi walked—or rather limped--off to the Temple, the 
Wookiee and the red-haired woman stayed behind. "Why isn't she going with them?" 
Dellen asked. "She lost her arm..."
    "It was a training accident several years ago," Luke explained as they walked 
up the boarding ramp with the other three Jedi. He turned to Kyp. "How much do we 
need to unload?"
    Kyp motioned to several crates. "That's evidence from ExGal 4," he explained. 
"There was some sort of alien warrior in the base, but he blew himself up rather 
than risk letting us capture him. None of the base personnel seemed to be alive."
    "Anything else?" Skywalker asked, looking around the transport's cargo hold.
    The redhead spoke up. "We recovered some hull plating from Urias Xhaxin's 
frigate, and then..." She pointed at a makeshift stasis chamber with two purple 
blob-like creatures inside. "Then there were those."
    "Alright." Luke looked straight at the redhead. "Tenel Ka, see what you can 
take. Kyp and I will take the crates, and Lowbacca can bring the stasis chambers. 
We'll store all of this in one of the old control rooms for now."
    While they were walking back to the Massassi pyramid, Kyp filled Luke in on 
what had happened on Belkadan.
    "You say that Yomin Carr looked like the attackers Corran described?"
    Kyp nodded, setting the crate he carried down in a corner of the former Rebel 
Alliance control room. "Before we left, I made a brief trip to Obroa-Skai to try 
and find any information on the aliens Corran ran into. Nothing came up."
    "If anything would have that information, it would be Obroa-Skai," Luke agreed. 
"So we have either a previously unknown race native to this galaxy, or we have an 
invasion."
    "If Helska is any indication," Kyp said as he straightened up, "it's the 
latter."
    Luke raised his eyebrows. "Do you have anything more than coincidence linking 
Helska to Belkadan and Bimmiel? The Senate does not like working off hunches, and 
if we expect them to investigate, and perhaps act against Helska, we need to give 
them a good reason to."
    Kyp almost snorted. "Investigate Helska? I would wish them luck. We received no 
comm traffic from these aliens, so I think diplomacy is out the window here."
    "I understand." Luke sighed softly as the group turned and started walking back 
to the landing pad. "Still, this is the Senate we're dealing with. Was there 
anything else that might link them?"
    Kyp pondered the question as they walked in silence. "I couldn't really sense 
Yomin Carr with the Force," he finally said. "He was more like a shadow. It was the 
same way with the fighters that attacked us, and they didn't look like droid 
fighters to me."
    "That won't help," Luke said as he took a closer look at the creature between 
the X-wing's foils. The creature regarded him with a cluster of beady eyes and 
struggled to free itself again, jaws clacking wildly. "Many in the Senate think the 
Force plays to our whims. What are we going to do with this, anyway?"
    "I don't know how well restraining it would work." Kyp shrugged. "It can chew 
through durasteel, so particle shields or forcefields might not help either."
    Luke eyed the creature for a while. “Force fields should hold it, but then we 
have the question of transporting it. A large stasis chamber might work.” He looked 
up to see if there was anything else on the X-wing, and his gaze caught another 
creature, this one obviously dead, but still attached to one engine. He walked 
around the starfighter and carefully lifted the dead insectoid off using the Force. 
Together, they carried the heavy thing around to the front, where the live one was 
still eying them hungrily.
    After they had carried the heavy creature back to the former control room, on a 
flash of inspiration Tenel Ka dragged the twisted piece of hull plating from 
Xhaxin's frigate over to the creature, and inserted it into the dead insect-like 
creature's mouth. The other four Jedi watched her silently.
    "They match." The Dathomirian warrior and sometime Hapan princess stood up, 
pointing at the plate. "The teeth of this thing match the score marks on the plate. 
We have the connection right here."
    Luke nodded, his face grim. "Then we have it. I'll call a meeting of all the 
Jedi."
    "What about the thing that's still stuck in my S-foils?" Kyp interrupted. "I 
don't want it getting loose and eating half the Academy while we sit and talk."
    All four Jedi exchanged bemused glances. "That could be a problem," Luke 
agreed.


    Some time later, Jacen leaned back in his seat, ignoring the pain that shot 
through his left heel as he did so. Just three days after they had returned from 
Helska, Luke had already called every Jedi in the galaxy back to Yavin IV for yet 
another meeting. He just hoped this one would produce better results than the last 
one.
    He didn't need to use his eyes to tell where Kyp was. The older Jedi Knight 
seemed more disturbed than Jacen had ever seen him before, but that was probably 
because he'd lost his entire squadron, as well as the Jedi that he had decided to 
mentor. Jacen shuddered to think of what might had happened if Tenel Ka had not 
volunteered to help.
    Jacen looked down at his ankle, then sighed and focused on the dais. What was a 
deep cut in the heel compared to a dozen deaths? From what he'd seen, it seemed 
pretty obvious that thing weren't going to get any better. He shuddered despite 
himself as his uncle called the assembled Jedi to order.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN


	Captain Kathryn Janeway paced across the synthetic wood floor of the
meager apartment she had been assigned to in San Francisco. As she did
so, she reflected on Voyager's state; inspection teams were crawling all
over it in Spacedock, preparing it for its complete and long-overdue
refitting. Her lack of ease with the situation was due to the fact that,
in the five days that had passed since the official homecoming party for
Voyager ended, she had all but been confined to her apartment. Every
time she left to walk around the city, she had the uneasy feeling that
she was being followed - even though she could see no sign of it.
Janeway was, in fact, beginning to long for the confinement that she had
been in on Voyager - Raven Fornil, her Jedi guard, had at least ben a
good source of interesting conversations. Those same conversations had
allowed her to get a broader picture of the Republic that these Jedi had
come from.
	However, the thing that galled Janeway the most was the fact that at
the welcoming party, Chakotay had earned more recognition than she had
for bringing Voyager home. It was almost as though Starfleet Command had
ignored the fact that she had been at the helm of her ship for nearly
all of the five years since they had been flung into the Delta Quadrant.
As if they had ignored the fact that she had kept her ship and crew
mostly intact despite being in a technologically backwards region,
surrounded by enemies such as the Borg and Kazon.
	Janeway stopped in front of a window and looked out at the city beyond,
her face a wistful puzzle. What had Chakotay done? she wondered, before
concluding that he had not, actually, done much. He had simply taken
advantage of circumstances to give himself control over her ship and
then negociated an agreement with the Republic ship's crew. She was
somewhat reminded of the conflict she had with him a little over a year
previously, when they had found the so-called "Northwest Passage"
through Borg space. Then, Chakotay had disagreed that they should
negociate with the Borg.
	"The end does not justify the means," she whispered, repeating an old
Earth saying that had probably been around longer than the rock of the
planet. It was strange, she thought, because when she had opened
negociations with the Borg she thought that the end result of getting
through the passage would justify allowing the assimilation of another
warlike species. In the end, Chakotay had been right: the Borg tried to
double-cross her. Had Torres not been able to sever Seven of Nine's link
with the Collective, they would have succeeded. And yet now the roles
had been reversed--Chakotay had re-opened negociations with the Republic
ship, all while ignoring the threat that they posed. She had recognized
that threat, and had acted accordingly... and then Chakotay had the
nerve to say that she had acted irrationally!
	She gave a heavy sigh and sat down. This sort of thinking, she
reflected, would get her nowhere, and began to consider taking a walk in
the nearby Golden Gate Park. Before she could do anything, however, the
door chime rang.
	"Who is it?" she asked, her voice betraying her fatigue.
	"Starfleet Security, ma'am."
	Kathryn came to her feet with another sigh and checked the door camera.
Sure enough, it was two men dressed in the special black and
gold-highlighted uniform that Starfleet Security used. She pressed the
door open button, and the door slid aside with a quiet hiss.
	"Starfleet Command has requested your presence for the debriefing of
Voyager's mission. Please follow us," one man said as he gestured for
her to step outside.
	The light clicked on in Janeway's head; so that was why she had
effectively been under house arrest since her arrival. She started to
walk for the bedroom to retrieve some belongings, but the security
officer held up a hand. "You won't be needing anything other than
yourself. The meeting begins shortly."
	She followed them down the steep flight of steps in front of the
apartment building, nearly tripping on a crack in the old concrete.
Steep hills and twisting, winding roads and paths had been a trademark
of San Francisco since before it had been founded by Franciscan
missionaries nearly seven hundred years prior, and unless the Federation
wanted to completely raze the hills it was going to stay that way,
Janeway reflected as she reached the bottom. A simple, unmarked car was
waiting for them on the street; the NDs motioned for her to climb into
the back seat, which she did without further ado. Then with a quiet,
barely perceptible electric whir the car sped off into the streets of
San Francisco.



	When they arrived at Starfleet Headquarters less than fifteen minutes
later, Janeway was ushered out of the car and towards the sprawling
building complex that made up Starfleet HQ. As they entered the complex,
she found herself being taken through a twisting labyrinth of hallways
until they finally arrived at their destination, a dimly lit interview
room that Janeway could only guess was located somewhere either in the
middle of the building or underground, given the lack of windows.
	As she stepped into the room, the Starfleet Security detail remaining
just outside, its lights came on to reveal a single chair in front of a
long table - the usual setup for a panel debriefing. The only person at
the table that she recognized immediately was Admiral Drazman.
	If Droner's here, it's going to be a long debriefing, Janeway thought
to herself. Drazman carried a reputation across Starfleet for being dry
and dull overall, perhaps having to do with the way his voice had a
tendency to drone on unceasingly.
	"Please, take your seat," a soothing voice trilled from one end of the
room. Janeway turned to see who the voice belonged to, and spotted a
pale-skinned woman with surprisingly long red hair sitting at one end of
the table. Her appearance was neat and trim, and she held herself with a
dignified posture implying an aristocrat - an altogether uncommon thing
to see in the Federation. Janeway blinked in surprise when she saw the
other woman's face.
	"Captain O'Leary? We... I thought you'd been killed by the Dominion..."
	"Hardly," she replied with a voice that seemed as though it could
pronounce all the punctuation. "But that is none of your concern now; We
can catch up on our past later. As for your first remark, I am no longer
a Captain, having been promoted to Commodore."
	Drazman cast a sidelong glance at O'Leary as she finished her
explanation. "Now that we have been introduced, it is my duty as the
senior Starfleet officer present to explain how the debriefing process
will proceed." He paused to have a sip of something, probably water, out
of a glass on the table before continuing. 
	"We will be reviewing your command history in chronological order, from
the time that Voyager left Utopia Planitia under your command to the
point at which your Chief Medical Officer had you suspended from duty."
He paused to read from a PADD in front of him. "Of particular interest
to Starfleet are firstly, the many Prime Directive situations you
encountered while in the Delta Quadrant, and secondly, the chain of
events that led up to your suspension of command by Voyager's Chief
Medical Officer." Drazman placed the sheet down on the table, steepled
his fingers, and looked directly at Janeway. "The debriefing process
will take upwards of a week, so if you had any other plans I suggest you
cancel them now. We will be taking ten-minute breaks every hour on the
hour, with half-hour breaks alloted for lunch and dinner. You are not to
leave the debriefing complex and will be escorted by Starfleet Security
at all times."
	"Thank you, Admiral Drazman," O'Leary said with the barest hint of
sarcasm in her voice. "Now that we have covered the procedure in
exhausting detail," at this remark Drazman flinched, "I feel it is time
to begin the actual debriefing." She glanced at the stack of PADDs on
the table in front of her, took a breath, and began.
	"On stardate 48315.6, the starship Voyager entered a nebula known as
the Badlands under your command. The mission was to find, and retrieve,
a missing Maquis ship with Lieutenant Commander Tuvok aboard. Shortly
after entering the Badlands, Voyager's records state that you were
displaced halfway across the galaxy to the Delta Quadrant, where you
found the missing Maquis ship. Is that correct?"
	Janeway nodded. "Yes."
	"Records also state that shortly after arriving in the Delta Quadrant,
a number of your crew were transported to an alien 'array.' Is this also
correct, and if so, would you please elaborate?"
	"Yes, it is correct." Janeway paused for a moment to remember the
events of that day. "Several of my bridge crew and I were transported
into a holographic chamber on the Caretaker's array. After about thirty
hours had passed on the ship, we were transported back. We had not been
harmed, but one of our crew had gone missing."
	"I see. And what did you do about that crewman?"
	"We armed ourselves and returned to the array, where we met the being
responsible for moving both my ship and the Maquis ship into the Delta
Quadrant."
	"Did you recover the crewman?"
	"Not immediately," Janeway replied. "We did, however, discover that
this 'Caretaker', as he called himself, did not want to send us back,
and I refused to leave the system without Ensign Kim."
	Commodore O'Leary jotted something down on her PADD as Janeway spoke.
"A prudent move," she remarked. "Now, Voyager's logs indicate that the
alien array was still functional when it was destroyed, and could have
been used to return to the Alpha Quadrant. What prevented this?"
	"We came under attack by a local spacefaring race known as the Kazon,
as I'm sure the records show. The Caretaker had a self-destruct
mechanism in place, but with the Kazon attack the mechanism was damaged
and I had to make a decision to destroy the array before they gained
access to it."
	O'Leary tilted her head to one side to the barest degree. "However, the
tricobalt warheads that you used to destroy the station had, as per
Starfleet standards, time-delay fuses built into them. If those had been
used, you would have been afforded with enough time to use the array one
last time to return to the Federation and accomplish your primary
mission objective, as well as prevent advanced technology from falling
into the hands of a less-advanced species. You did not. Why is this?"
	"I..." Janeway looked down at the table. This was her worst fear come
to life, that the single most important decision she had made as
Voyager's captain would be called into question by higher authorities.
She scrambled to think of an adequate answer. "It was in the heat of
battle, and my first priority was to destroy the array before the Kazon
could use it against us. I understand that in hindsight, it is easy to
see the other options, but I did not see them then."
	"Noted." This time it was Admiral Drazman speaking. "There was another
aspect of your mission that raised some eyebrows in Starfleet. That is,
at a time when the relations between your crew and the Maquis were still
in question, you invited a member of the Maquis crew onto your away team
and even went so far as to arm him, thereby putting yourself and your
crew into danger. It is Starfleet Command's opinion that this was an
exceedingly reckless decision on your part. Do you have any
justification for your action?"
	"I had studied the profiles on Commander Chakotay, and I observed that
he was a rational man. Furthermore, we had agreed to a truce in light of
our missing crew." She swallowed as she recalled the events of that
fateful day. 
	Drazman shook his head. "Profiles have been known to be inaccurate, and
a truce means little. Nevertheless, we recognize that your intuition
served you well, given how admirably Chakotay performed when you
reinstated his Starfleet contract."
	Captain Janeway remained silent while the two officers looked over
their PADDs. Finally, Drazman resumed where O'Leary had left off. "On
Stardate 48439.7, despite constantly decreasing energy reserves, you
chose to respond to the distress signal of a vessel trapped inside the
event horizon of a quantum singularity. In doing so, not only did you
endanger the crew and deviate from your primary mission of returning to
Federation space, but you displayed a lack of familiarity with the very
nature of quantum singularities. . ."

	Five days and twenty-two coffee breaks later, Janeway felt as though
her head were going to explode. So far, they had covered the past four
years of Voyager's trip in the Delta Quadrant in minute detail. Every
decision had been questioned, every Prime Directive situation brought
under scrutiny. In some cases Starfleet Command had agreed with her
solutions and in most other cases they had not. They had placed
considerable attention on her nearly disastrous alliance with the Borg,
particularly when it came to offering them the modified nanoprobes.
	As Captain Janeway looked across the panel table, where five more
Admirals had joined Admiral Drazman and Commodore O'Leary since the
first day of the debriefing, she considered that if Starfleet Command
had wanted to torture her they couldn't possibly do a better job than
this. Perhaps it was just the sense of independence she'd gained in the
Delta Quadrant. She had been the highest ranking representative of the
Federation for the past four and a half years, and as a result she
wasn't used to having superior officers question her decisions like
this.
	"Now," Admiral Drazman stated, "the last thing we wish to discuss is
the series of events that led up to first contact with the Republic
vessel. As this was a major decision for Voyager, we have summoned a
number of your bridge crew here for the final day of debriefing." He
tapped some controls on a console built into the desk in front of him,
and the door slid open with a well-maintained hiss. "Lieutenant
Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, Lieutenant Torres,
Lieutenant Kim, Lieutenant Munro, Ms. Hansen." Drazman waved his hand at
several seats beside Janeway. "Please take a seat."
	One of the other admirals looked over his PADDs before clearing his
voice and looking directly at Janeway. "During initial negociations with
the Republic vessel, logs entered by Lieutenant Commander Tuvok showed
that you were apparently offended by an unsolicited telepathic
communication from the leader of the Republic vessel. Consequently, you
broke off negociations and ordered Voyager to continue on its previous
course. This would not have been remarkable if it were not for the fact
that the captain of the Republic vessel had made a standing offer to
return Voyager to Federation space. Their only condition was that your
crew assist them in repairing their ship, and they did not request any
technology from you." The admiral turned to Tuvok. "Lieutenant
Commander, is this log accurate?"
	"That is correct."
	"In that case, why did you refuse their offer, Captain?" This time it
was O'Leary speaking. "You would not have violated the Prime Directive
for two reasons; first, they did not want any Federation technology, and
second, even if they had, their own technology is far in advance of ours
on many fronts."
	Janeway looked down at the table while she thought about the question.
"I felt that if I accepted their offer, I would be putting my ship and
crew in danger. We had encountered a number of telepathic species in the
Delta Quadrant already, and none of them had proven to be benevolent."
	"That may be the case," O'Leary replied, "but what proof did you have
of this suspicion? If your Lieutenant-Commander's log is to be believed,
you were the only one among the away team to experience this telepathic
'intrusion'. Additionally, from the logs of your ship's doctor, the
intrusion was harmless and did not involve any manipulation."
	"I made a tactical decision from what I knew at the time. I had no way
of knowing whether the rest of my team was being influenced, or whether
the humans aboard the other ship were capable of further influence. As a
result, I decided to err on the side of caution."
	"That is understandable. What Starfleet Command finds hard to
understand is the fact that after the Chief Medical Officer had you
removed from command and Commander Chakotay resumed negociations, you
escaped confinement in Sickbay, took Voyager's only remaining
shuttlecraft, and nearly collided with a shuttlecraft from the Republic
vessel while attempting to escape. You then proceeded to fly into a
nearby asteroid field. This strikes us as highly incautious."
	The captain slowly exhaled. "My purpose in taking the Delta Flyer was
to use it to find Commander Chakotay so I could warn him. When I
encountered the Republic shuttle, it began chasing me and I went into
the asteroid belt in an attempt to shake them off. I now realize that
this was a grave error on my part, and endangered both my life and the
lives of my crewman aboard the Republic shuttle. However, I had no way
of telling who was aboard that shuttle at the time."
	Admiral Drazman glanced over at the other admirals, who returned the
favor. "We have no further questions for now. You will have a fifteen
minute break before we reconvene to tell you our decision."

	As Janeway walked to the break room, escorted by the ever-present
Starfleet Security, her mind was lost deep in thought. She seemed not to
notice the presence of her bridge staff surrounding her as she walked up
to the replicator.
	"Computer, one coffee..." Her voice trailed off as she considered.
"Computer, belay that." She had already drunk seven cups of coffee
today, and it wasn't even noon yet. Her stomach was starting to revolt
at the thought of more coffee. "Tea, black, iced. Slice of lemon."
	A glass of black tea, its rim frosted with ice, materialized in the
replicator's food slot. She took a sip of the tea and grimaced briefly,
wondering what had gotten into her. Then she shrugged and took a gulp of
the ice-cold liquid.
	"I know things change, Captain, but I've never known you to drink
anything other than coffee." She nearly choked as Commander Chakotay
abruptly spoke, then managed to regain her composure as she turned to
face him.
	"Maybe I'm getting a little too old for black coffee," she remarked
partly in jest, holding her stomach. Then her composure became more
serious. "Has your debriefing been as... strenuous as mine?"
	"I wouldn't know," Chakotay replied. "I've only heard the past half
hour of your debriefing, but it appears that Starfleet Command is coming
down pretty hard on you."
	Janeway turned away from Chakotay and walked toward a nearby window,
looking out on the expansive San Francisco Bay. "That doesn't even begin
to describe it, Commander." She spun about and looked him hard in the
eye. "They've criticised every decision I've made for the past four
years. Do you realize just how difficult that is for me?"
	"They spent the first two days just talking about the Maquis with me,"
Chakotay replied. "I suppose they were trying to determine if I still
felt I had ties to them. I'm not sure if they're convinced yet that I'm
through with the Maquis."
	"So we're in the same boat, then," Janeway said, turning back to the
window and leaning on the sill. "Commander, I'm just a little curious. I
know that you were partly responsible for having me removed from
command. Did you have anything to do with Starfleet Command reviewing my
command history like this?"
	Chakotay was silent for nearly a minute as he considered the question.
"Captain, I know we've had our disagreements on many occasions, most
recently on the subject of the Republic ship. But..." He trailed off
momentarily. "I've never wanted to be your enemy, Kathryn. I have, and I
will, continue to defend you."
	As the clock chimed, signaling that it was time to return to the
debriefing room, Captain Janeway looked back at Chakotay, her eyes
moistened by tears. "Thank you. You don't know how much that means to
me," she said before following the Starfleet Security guards.

	As the Voyager crew took their seats, Admiral Drazman came to his feet,
squared his shoulders, and spoke. "Starfleet Command has made their
decision concerning you and your crew. After reviewing all currently
available information, Captain Kathryn Janeway is to have her command of
the USS Voyager suspended. She will continue to receive off-duty pay as
a Starfleet officer, and will continue to receive all other benefits
that Starfleet provides." His part done, Drazman sat back down and
mopped his forehead with a handkerchief.
	"In recognition of their exemplary service to the Federation," O'Leary
continued in Drazman's place, "Lieutenant Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant
B'Elanna Torres, and all other former Maquis members of Voyager will
have their Starfleet commissions formally reinstated at this time, on
stardate 52757.1. Lieutenant Commander Chakotay is hereby promoted to
Captain and assigned command of USS Voyager."
	Chakotay looked up. "With all due respect, Commodore--"
	"Captain Chakotay, please hold your opinion for now." O'Leary said. "We
will discuss any questions after we have finished reading Starfleet
Command's decision."
	"I understand." Chakotay leaned back, sighing.
	"Ms. Hansen," O'Leary continued, "has the option of accepting a
Starfleet comission or joining any research facility in the Federation.
In the event that she accepts a Starfleet comission, she will have to
attend selected courses at the Academy. Ms. Hansen, what is your
choice?"
	"I prefer to be called Seven," Seven of Nine remarked. "As for your
question, a research position would perhaps be most efficient."
	O'Leary nodded, handing the former Borg a PADD. "This contains basic
information on the various research facilities the Federation operates.
You have as long as you like to choose which one you would like to join.
Now, does anyone have questions?"
	The room was so silent that Captain Janeway thought that she could
probably hear a pin hit the floor. She noticed now-Captain Chakotay look
up as if to say something before looking back down, and she bit her lip.
So this is the end? she wondered. Five years of hard, bloody work. Five
years of trying to get her crew home, all for nothing.
	She had always imagined that when they arrived back at Earth, she would
be praised for the safe return of her crew and ship, praised for the
wealth of scientific data they had collected, praised for all the new
technologies. And yet in reality she was stripped of her command. Not
recognized for her achievements. Indeed, she had been treated as if she
was the biggest obstacle to Voyager's safe return.
	Captain Kathryn Janeway, formerly of the U.S.S. Voyager, fell back in
her seat in shock at the judgment Drazman had pronounced and wondered if
it wouldn't be a bad time to cry.




CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


"I think you'd better have a look at this," the voice of an ensign echoed
across U.S.S. Voyager's strangely quiet engineering room, absent the usual
hum of the warp core.

"What is it, Walper?" Foreman Matt Huang, one of the supervising engineers
from the Daystrom Institute, sighed as he walked over to Walper's
position. In her five-year absence, he reflected, Voyager had racked up so
much battle damage that it was going to be quite a chore of straightening
her systems out. They'd already determined that over half of the
bio-neural gelpacks on the ship would have to be replaced, and only a week
had passed so far.

"There are some anomalous readings in this computer log, which was taken
just before Voyager arrived." Walper pointed to a log that was displayed
on one of Engineering's LCARS terminals.

Huang peered at the data on the terminal. "I don't see what's so wrong
about it," he remarked after looking for a minute. "It just seems to be
normal computer subroutine information."

"At first, I thought so too." Walper pressed some brightly colored buttons
and the logs rearranged themselves by time. "But look at this point. Ten
minutes prior to arrival, many computer subroutines started dying all over
the ship. Other subroutines were reassigned to the lowest priority level
for some reason, which caused a massive, cascading resonance failure in
the computer core approximately five seconds after Voyager arrived as the
demand on the system was increased by diagnostic procedures. The running
subroutines were unable to handle the increased load with their low
priority level, and the system slowed to a crawl before shutting down
entirely."

"Sounds like a typical computer glitch, probably insufficient memory or
something stupid like that," Huang snapped. "Look, Walper, I'm trying to
finish the orders for the bio-neural gelpack upgrade so that we can get
around to troubleshooting the rest of the ship's computer network. I don't
need you to stand here and tell me the obvious."

Walper had a dejected look on his face. "But, Mr. Huang, just let me
explain. The logs show a pattern. It's not obvious at first, but you
mentioned that the computer probably had insufficient memory. It had
plenty of memory, but there was something preventing those other
subroutines from using most of it." Walper quickly tapped some more
buttons on the LCARS display, and a different screen came up. "It's like a
negative picture. You don't see the pattern by the information that's in
the logs, but by the information that isn't."

Huang finally perked up. "So you're suggesting that somebody erased data
from the logs?"

"Yes. Or no. I can't really say for sure since the information is missing,
but given the circumstances it seems pretty convincing that someone ran a
program that was highly intensive and used most of the computer's
resources. According to the logs, there were two, sometimes three
subroutines doing that, but they were subroutines that should never have
consumed that amount of resources."

"Such as?"

"Lavatory flow control and waste management, fuel level monitoring..."
Walper looked at his PADD. "And the sonic shower control subroutine."

Huang frowned. "You're right, I've never heard of those subroutines using
up so much computing power. So what do you think they were doing?"

"It's possible that they weren't actually what the logs said they were.
I've checked the quantum signatures of the modules, and while the
preliminary check determined they were good, the Heisenberg uncertainty
principle suggests that there's a fifty percent probability that the data
in those subroutines was modified. In any case, with these subroutines
consuming as much of the main computer's capacity as they were, the system
suffered a catastrophic resonance failure in the main core, which included
the fuel metering subroutine that was responsible for controlling the warp
core reaction, and as a result the warp core became highly unstable and
needed to be ejected."

Matthew Huang sighed and shook his head. "Walper, while I think you may be
on to something, I somehow doubt that Starfleet is going to buy that load
of technical jargon you just told me. You could probably knock an admiral
out with it. So just make a note of it in your daily log for now, and
we'll include your hypothesis in our official report to Starfleet. Now,
could you please get back to the work I assigned you? We have to get the
gelpack upgrade finished by this evening."



* * *



Jaina Solo sighed as she watched the "sky" of hyperspace flash past the
cockpit in a disorienting, tangled blur with her one good eye. Cighal
hadn't been able to save her poisoned eye, but at least she had prevented
the poison from spreading throughout her body.

What good is a pilot with only one eye? she wondered. So much for her
dreams of entering Rogue Squadron, and even though she wouldn't admit it,
she was too proud to go to her mother and ask for money to pay for a
prosthetic eye. Asking her uncle, of course, was even more out of the
question; the Jedi Academy was operating on a shoestring budget since
Fey'lya managed to ax their support in the Senate.

"We will be arriving at Sernpidal in ten minutes," Tenel Ka announced,
precisely as usual, from her position in the pilot's seat of the Rock
Dragon.

Jaina looked down and checked the harness that held her to her seat. After
the mess at Belkadan and Helska, she didn't feel like taking any more
chances out here in the Rim.

"How long until we see how mom and dad are doing?" Jacen asked from the
seat beside her.

"Not long," Tenel Ka admitted as she prepared for emergence. "Jaina, as
soon as we arrive, I need you to run a sensor sweep of the system. Look
for gravity wells like the ones you noticed at Helska."

Jaina acknowledged the request, turning to the sensor panel. Over several
years of flying errands around the galaxy with her brother and Tenel Ka,
she'd grown quite used to the Hapan controls in the Rock Dragon. Her
brother had joked that she could run them in her sleep... which was
probably true.

"I'll get on the upper turret," Jacen said as he stood up in the cramped
cockpit, studiously avoiding hitting his head on the ceiling. "Tenel Ka,
could you slave the lower turret to my panel?"

"Done." The redheaded warrior turned to look as Jacen left and smiled at
him. "Hopefully there will not be anything, but if there is, happy
hunting."

"Thanks." He returned the smile and left the cockpit, bashing his head on
the door frame as he did so. Jaina suppressed a smirk.


As they approached Sernpidal, Jaina settled back in her seat and let her
thoughts drift. She found herself wondering about Kyp's Avengers. Her
uncle Luke had approved of Kyp's operation given the valuable data they'd
returned on Belkadan and Helska, but even so he had told her afterwards
that he still had reservations about the brash Jedi's methods. Still, he
had admitted, they seemed to be working.

However, Jaina still wondered where he'd replenish his ranks. He had lost
all of his pilots and all of his fighters, save a couple that he had back
at his base. Kyp was also highly distraught since Helska, but Jaina
understood fully why that was the case. Losing pilots was hard on any
commander, especially for the commander of a paramilitary group.

What puzzled her more was the way that Kyp was dealing with the loss of
his wingmate. She had seen Miko go down over the fourth planet, his
battle-damaged X-wing plummeting into the thin atmosphere in a rough
tumble, his comm totally silent. Kyp continued to insist that his wingmate
was alive and was planning on running a rescue mission. She had no idea
how he planned on getting through that deathtrap again, or staying alive
when he did so, but eventually conceded that he was probably the best one
to figure out how.

The panel flashed a warning in front of her, interrupting her thoughts. At
the same time, Tenel Ka announced that they were about to revert from
hyperspace, and Jaina braced herself... only to feel a flawlessly smooth
transition.

"Running sensor sweep," she remarked as she watched the displays with a
critical eye for nearly a minute. "No gravitic wells in the system."

"Good," Jacen's relieved voice came across the intra-ship comm. Sernpidal
had been his idea, and he had asked their uncle Luke about it. Since
Sernpidal was fairly far out in the Tingel arm and only about three
hundred light-years from Helska, Luke had agreed and assigned them to
monitoring that planet plus several others in the immediate area.

Jaina swiveled her chair around to face forward, so she could get a good
look at the planet. It was an unassuming ball of mixed browns, blues and
greens, sheathed in white clouds. Quite a contrast from her "home" of
Coruscant, which had no oceans or clouds to speak of. She could see why
her parents had decided to retire out here.

As Tenel Ka brought the Hapan transport into the atmosphere, skimming
through it with the repulsors slowing them down, Jaina continued to watch.
The view of the planet's disc from space was replaced with a horizon as
they lost altitude. She picked out snow-capped mountain ranges, tiny lakes
and meandering rivers as they shot past them, finally coming up on a
downright tiny city near the edge of a large, grassy plain. It was
unassuming, with no buildings over three stories, but nevertheless still
had an air of bustle about it. Jaina noted with amusement that there was
no spaceport proper, only a number of duracrete pads scattered around the
city with ships parked on them.

"You parents live about seven kilometers to the northeast, correct?" Tenel
Ka asked.

"Yeah."

Less than a minute later the Rock Dragon arrived at the Solos' house. As
they settled down on a cleared field beside the familiar disc shape of the
Millennium Falcon, Jaina unbuckled her restraints, jumped up, and ran out
of the cockpit -- only to crash headfirst into her brother, who probably
had the same idea.

"Are you two combatants knocked out yet, or do I have to bash your heads
together?" Tenel Ka approached the twins as they were lying on the floor,
her voice revealing no small degree of mirth. She offered Jacen her hand
as Jaina climbed to her feet. "And must I keep looking out for you, Jedi
Knight Jacen Solo?"

Jacen's face reddened at the remark, and Jaina chuckled at her brother's
predicament. "Alright, you two, break it up. You know the routine, no
kissing while Mom and Dad are present."

"Hey!"

Jaina winked at him as she turned to walk down the ramp. She had always
enjoyed ribbing her brother for what she considered the crush (albeit an
unusually long one) he had on Tenel Ka. While she had flirted with a
number of the other students at the Jedi Academy, and had for a time a
crush on her old friend Zekk, she had never really felt at home with any
of them. Yet that whole time Jacen was seemingly oblivious to the other
girls around him except Tenel Ka. Funny thing was she'd never seen them
kiss or display any sign of serious affection. Maybe he really did need to
finish growing up...

She derailed that train of thought. Her mother had just come out of the
house, and Jaina broke out into a run toward her, stopping in Leia's
waiting arms.

"Luke told me briefly about what happened at Helska," Leia said as she
looked up at her daughter's face. "I'm glad you're still alive, but..."
Her gaze drifted over Jaina's eyepatch. "What happened to your eye?"

Jaina explained what happened on Belkadan, how they had returned to
interrogate Yomin Carr after Lowbacca had discovered the missing sensor
data, and he had used his staff to spit venom into her eye.

"We could get you--"

She cut her mother off. "No, that's all right. I can earn enough to get
myself a bionic eye."

"By piloting?" This time it was her father speaking. "A one-eyed pilot's
no good, kid, unless you're from some species that only comes with one
eye. They're not very good either."

"But they're so expensive!" Jaina protested. "You're retired now and Mom's
not in office anymore. I don't want to put that burden on you..."

Han shrugged. "Not much of a burden. A good eye's worth about one month's
rent of our old apartment on Coruscant. This house cost us a fraction of
that, and we own it too."

Leia put her hand on Jaina's shoulder and looked at her with a matronly
gaze. "Han's right, you know. We'll get you one, just let us know when
you're--"

The conversation was interrupted by a pair of Wookiee roars. Everyone
turned to look as Chewbacca and Lowbacca greeted each other in typical
Wookiee fashion, which if they were human would look like an arm-wrestling
match or the tail end of a street fight. Of course, Wookiees are anything
but human.

"Ready," Leia finished with a smile. "Han, how long has it been since
Chewie's seen his nephew?"

"In standard years or Wookiee years?"

The Solos shared a hearty laugh together at Han's impromptu joke.




CHAPTER EIGHTEEN



The following morning found the Solo family, Tenel Ka, and the two
Wookiees sitting around a table for breakfast.

"So," Han remarked with a mouthful of gukked egg, "what's brought all of
you out here? I'm sure that Tenel Ka didn't spend all that fuel just so
Jacen could drop in to say 'Hello' to his folks."

Jaina swallowed, put her fork down, and cleared her throat. "I didn't want
to tell you yesterday," she began as Chewie stretched his long arms high
and let out a contented wuffing noise, "but Uncle Luke seems to think that
what we saw on Helska and Belkadan is the tip of an invasion. That means
that--"

"Sernpidal is right in the way of it," Han finished for her. "That
no-good, lying cheat--"

"Han!" Leia admonished. "How was Lando supposed to know about this? He has
an investment in Dubrillion anyway, which is practically next door. If we
get any sort of invasion here, he's going to be in the way as well."

Han looked at his wife with mock horror. "Who said I was talking about
Lando? He's an respectable businessman after all," he said, winking at
Leia. "I was talking about the estate broker who stiffed us on this
house."

Leia smiled. "Now that you mention it, he was a bit of a scoundrel."

"But not as much of a scoundrel as I am, hmm?" He gave his wife a lopsided
grin and took another bite of food. After chewing silently for several
seconds, he looked back at Jaina. "So this invasion, what do you guys know
about it?"

Jaina glanced out the window at the hills beyond. "Well, we're still
collecting data on it. Uncle Luke doesn't want to notify the Senate
without having very concrete information, since they've already killed all
funding for the Academy and he doesn't want to give Fey'lya any more
reason to ostracize us."

"Borsk Fey'lya," Han remarked as if the name were a deadly insult. "He's
been an obstruction to the Republic as long as I can remember. It's a
wonder he's still in office. So go on."

Tenel Ka looked up and took a breath. "Corran Horn and Ganner Rhysode
discovered evidence of what they believed to be an advance scout force on
Bimmiel. An analysis of the remains done by Dr. Pell of the University of
Agamar confirmed it was approximately fifty-five years old. Nothing they
know of in this galaxy matched it."

"So we have advance scouts, that sounds sensible."

"Yeah." Jaina sighed and gave a wistful glance out the window again. "Then
reports came that the Extragalactic Society had lost contact with a
station they had on Belkadan. We volunteered to go along with Kyp Durron
and investigate it."

"And as I heard, came back with only Durron and some samples." Han shook
his head. "Kid's always been reckless. You're lucky you survived that. As
for the ExGal... they've always been a bunch of kooks. Everybody knows
there's not much outside the galaxy, unless you want to spend about fifty
years in hyperspace that is."

"Well..." Jaina drew the word out as she thought carefully. "That's just
the problem. Helska is at the very edge of Wild Space, Belkadan somewhat
further in. If the data we got at Helska, and the data we collected from
ExGal 4 is correct, then what we saw was some very large ships from
outside the galaxy."

"How big?"

Jaina frowned slightly and shrugged. "The ones we saw at Helska were about
fifty kilometers or so in diameter, roughly spherical."

There was a very audible clink as Han's fork slipped from his now-shaking
hand and hit the table in the sudden silence following Jaina's statement.
All eyes were on her now.

"Are you sure of that?" Leia asked, stunned.

Jaina nodded.

Han's lips moved noiselessly several times before he was able to manage a
coherent sentence. "That's almost half the diameter of the first Death
Star," he breathed.

"Uncle Luke thinks they're generation ships," Jaina said softly. "They'd
have to be if these people had scouts on Bimmiel fifty years ago."

"Generation ships," Han repeated. "You don't just build generation ships
for nothing, which says that these people, whoever they are, are planning
on staying."

"Yeah."

Leia's gaze wavered over the table. "Let's change the subject," she
managed. "The last time I talked to Luke, he mentioned another Jedi
Master, some guy by the name of Dellen Coureran. Has he promoted someone
to Jedi Master lately, because I thought he was the only one?"

"After the bombshell Jaina dropped," Jacen remarked offhandedly, "I don't
think this news is going to make much of an impact."

"Just get on with it," Han said in a grumpy tone.

"He's one of the Jedi Masters from the Outbound Flight."

"Another one?" Han exclaimed. "I thought Luke learned from the time he got
suckered in by Joruus C'baoth."

Jacen looked uncertain. "Apparently this one is the real thing," he
finally said. "He arrived on Coruscant with a smuggler that he said
rescued him after his shuttle broke down in the Unknown Regions. He was
carrying a message from the Outbound Flight's captain, a Jonas Avin, who
said that they managed to survive an assault some sixty years ago and were
now in a very distant galaxy."

"And you said that all in one breath," Han remarked with a shrug. "I'm
impressed. So what does this mean for the rest of us?"

"Well," Jacen paused for a time as he tried to figure out what to say
next, "Uncle Luke's been studying the ways of the old Jedi and has wanted
to establish a Jedi Council to govern us like they had in the Old
Republic. But he didn't know how to go about it, plus he'd be the only one
deciding who would be a Jedi Master and he was somewhat uncertain about
that. Dellen is a Jedi historian, and told us how the Jedi Council
operated. It had twelve seats, and there are six Jedi Masters on the
Outbound Flight, so if we can recover it all Luke needs to do is appoint
five other Jedi Masters. With the Council re-established, he hopes the
Jedi will regain their credibility in the Senate."

"Fat chance of that with the likes of Fey'lya in power," Han muttered.

"Yeah," Jacen agreed in a downtrodden tone. "But at least having the Jedi
Council again will allow us to re-establish order. Uncle Luke has had to
call several meetings of all the Jedi recently because there's been a lot
of dissent over whether we should be vigilantes or obey the New Republic's
wishes."

"I get it," Han snapped. "The galaxy is a mess, most of the Jedi can't
find their own asses, we're probably being invaded, and I'm sitting right
in the way." The old smuggler glared at nobody in particular. "So do you
guys need my help or what? I'm itching for a little activity besides
gardening, and the Falcon's getting tired of just sitting out there in the
field. Right, Chewie?" He looked over at his Wookiee companion, who
chuffed in agreement.

"We will be monitoring the nearby systems for activity," Tenel Ka stated.
"Perhaps you could watch Sernpidal and let us know if you see anything
unusual. Asteroids moving in ways they should not, unidentified ships, or
creatures that don't belong here."

"I was hoping for something a little more exciting, actually," Han said
under his breath. "But that'll work," he said a little louder.

Leia reached over and touched her husband on the shoulder. "Han, if we're
in the way of an invasion, I think you'll be seeing plenty of action
soon."

He gave her a wistful smile. "The galaxy never rests, and it seems it
doesn't want us to rest either." He turned to where the Wookiees were
sitting. "Chewie, tell the labor droids to start packing up some of our
stuff. I want to be ready to go if anything happens."

The Wookiee barked an acknowledgment and stood up, his hairy bulk looming
over the table.

"And I guess you guys are done here," Han finished as he came to his feet
as well.

"Yeah, we should be leaving," Jaina said. "We have about a dozen other
systems to go through, then we'll come back here and see how you're
doing."

"Just don't forget about us out there. Okay, kid?" Han threw his daughter
a lopsided smile before giving her a hug. "And take care of yourself.
You're a good pilot and mechanic. I don't want you losing your other eye."

Jaina made an effort to return the grin. "I won't, Dad."



Leia watched without saying anything as the four Jedi came to their feet
and left the room. Then she turned to her husband. "I'm worried, Han. I
sometimes feel like I might never see them again..."

He put his hand on her back and rubbed it. "They're grown now, you know.
They can take care of themselves."

She looked into his eyes. "What about you? You're not the hotshot you used
to be."

"But this old dog still has a few tricks up his sleeve," Han replied with
a wan smile. Outside, the roar of ion engines warming up filled the air.



* * *



Dr. John Clark, a psychology graduate of the University of Arizona and
more importantly a Federation diplomat, was hardly looking forward to
another day of talks in San Francisco. To put it mildly, he regretted
becoming a diplomat in the first place. However, the Federation left
little leeway for psychology degrees. You could either enlist in Starfleet
and become a ship's counselor, and basically play nursemaid to the crew,
or you could join the Federation's medical wing and play nursemaid to a
bunch of nutcases, or you could become a diplomat. Clark didn't like crazy
people and didn't like Starfleet, so that had left being a diplomat.

He had learned after that point that the Federation's State Department was
filled with crazy people, too. He sometimes speculated that the Federation
was totally crazy and he was the only sane person in it. Logic kicked in
at that point and said that it was baseless to assume that every single
being in the Federation was crazy without empirical evidence, but he had
given logic the boot years ago, never mind how much the Vulcans revered
it. They were crazy too.

At the moment, Clark was enjoying the early morning sunlight that streamed
in through a set of Venetian blinds on the east-facing wall of his
underground house in what had once been the state of Arizona, long ago. At
least that was before the third world war, which in Clark's mind was what
had driven humanity totally insane.

He shuffled over to his home's refrigerator, opened it, and pulled out
some eggs and potatoes. There were no provisions against farming in the
Federation, provided that you did not try to sell your goods for profit.
That suited Clark just fine. He hated the tripe that replicators produced
(the fact that the one in his house had been malfunctioning for the past
five years was the other reason) and secretly suspected that the
Federation used replicators to administer psychoactive drugs to the
population at large. That would at least explain why they started losing
wars when replicators became common.

Clark grabbed a cast-iron frying pan and stuck it on his stove. After
waiting a few seconds he poured some vegetable oil into it and dumped the
already-chopped potatoes in, letting them fry for a while before stirring.
After several minutes he dumped the eggs in and shortly afterward put the
whole mess onto a plate and coated it liberally with jalape?o sauce.

Taking his plate, he then proceeded to sit down at his desk, which had an
LCARS terminal built into the flat surface and checked the day's messages.

"Huh," Clark grunted in consternation, putting his fork down as he read
something in detail. His face went ashen, and he finished eating his
breakfast in a hurry, ignoring the burning sensation of the jalape?o sauce
in his throat. "Dr. Clark to Federation State Department," he said as he
tapped the comm unit, "requesting an immediate point-to-point transfer."

"Acknowledged," a woman's voice rang across the comm. "Destination?"

"My office," Clark replied.

Moments later, he rematerialized in his somewhat cluttered office in the
Federation State Department's main building, adjacent to the buildings
housing the Assembly, High Council, and Starfleet headquarters. After
looking about his office for a PADD, he rushed out the door and down a
long, circular hallway.

"Mr. Davies," he exclaimed as he barged in the door to his superior's
office, holding the PADD. "You really need to take a look at this."

Davies spun his chair around and threw Clark a rather irritated glance as
though he were intruding on a personal matter. That could have been the
case; Clark was never sure what Davies did in private. "What is it now?"

He set the PADD down on Davies' spartan desk. It also mystified the
diplomat how such an unkempt man managed to maintain such a neat office.
"Sir, I stumbled across some information this morning, suggesting that
Section 31 is planning on doing something to do with the Republic ship.
I'm not sure why."

"Let me see that." Davies reached over with a pudgy limb and grabbed the
PADD, turning it so its display faced him. After looking at it for nearly
a minute, he began to guffaw, his heavy frame shaking with laughter.
"Clark, Clark. How is it that you manage to infer a plot concerning
Section 31 from a thumbnail gallery of Orion porn?"

"What?" Clark's total disbelief at his superior's remark showed in his
face. "That can't be... it was showing the information only a minute
ago..."

Davies held up the PADD and Clark could clearly see the green-hued skin of
leather-clad Orion slave girls for a brief moment before Davies shut it
off. "Alright, maybe you had something. Thing is, I don't know. All I know
is that you had Orion porn on your PADD, which according to Federation
State Employee Code section 4958.44 is a punishable offense, subject to
one year at the New Zealand penal colony."

Clark swallowed. "Sir, I don't know how that got there! I had been
performing a search of the latest headlines related to the Republic ship
and ran into a document containing a list of timetables related to crew
leaves from the Republic ship."

"And that had to do with Section 31, an organization that you aren't even
cleared to know about, exactly how? Or do I have to write you up for
unauthorized access into Federation databanks?"

"It was publicly available!" Clark objected.

"And no doubt so is the Orion porn," Davies smiled, his double chin
becoming quite accented as he did so.

His point was made; Clark was stuck in a corner. "All right, fine. What do
you want me to do?"

"Stop trying to find out about Section 31. I'm getting sick and tired of
having Federation Security coming in to talk about you. You don't want to
know about Thirty-One, I don't want to know about Thirty-One." Davies held
the PADD in the replicator slot. "And I'll dispose of this for you."

"Fine," Clark grumbled, his eyes still on the PADD. Under his breath, he
added "You fucking idiot."

Davies looked at the replicator. "Computer, recycle replicator." The PADD
vanished moments later.

Dr. Clark walked back to his office several minutes later and grabbed a
bottle of (contraband) Romulan Ale out of his cooler. He downed half the
bottle in one long gulp and collapsed on his desk in blissful
unconsciousness.




CHAPTER NINETEEN



	By the time the Jade Sabre reached Coruscant, Anakin Solo was glad to be
off the ship. Even though the Sabre was a fairly large shuttle at sixty
meters, it was still a cramped ship with not that much room to exercise
save the training deck. Anakin had, of course, spent quite a lot of time
on the training deck in the past three days, sparring against the other
three Jedi on board. Master Coureran had been the most helpful, teaching
him a number of Old Republic saber fighting techniques.

	Anakin stood up from the acceleration couch and put his belt back on,
lightsaber dangling from it. Then he walked over to the Jade Sabre's
landing ramp and followed his uncle Luke, his aunt Mara, and Master
Coureran out to the surface of the landing platform.

	"Where are we going first?" he asked. Luke had been forced to close the
Praxeum on Coruscant since its rent was too high to be sustained without
support from the Senate. Rooftop space had always been at a premium on
Coruscant since time immemorial. It remained at a premium even after
Coruscant bore the scars of both the Clone Wars and the Galactic Civil
War.

	"Directly to the Senate building," Luke answered without pause as he
flagged a hovertaxi.

	Mercifully, the ride to the Senate was short, Anakin reflected. As they
debarked the taxi, they were met by a number of New Republic guards, who
indicated for them to leave their lightsabers behind. Anakin gave one of
the guards a puzzled look and wondered if it would be permissible to
suggest to the trooper that there would be no harm in a Jedi carrying his
lightsaber.

	Luke noticed his frown and turned to face him. "Anakin, we're not in an
enemy state. Do as the guards say."

	"Okay." Anakin shrugged and put his lightsaber into the locker provided.
He eventually decided that the new restrictions must have been because of
Fey'lya's manipulations.

	Several minutes and umpteen security checks later, the four Jedi walked
into the Senate rotunda proper.

	"I was actually expecting it to be larger," Master Coureran remarked in a
slightly surprised tone as they exited a turbolift. "How many seats does
the Senate have now?"

	Anakin watched his uncle think for several seconds while they walked to
their assigned booth. "About seven hundred and fifty," Luke replied. "One
for each sector. The sectors themselves are always changing with each new
representative." Anakin had been told that in the early days of the New
Republic, the Senate had been composed of representatives from every
planet. That had soon proved quite impractical however, as there were
millions of planets in the galaxy, and the Republic had gone back to the
sector representatives.

	At the moment, the Senate was busy deliberating on what Anakin guessed to
be an agricultural matter somewhere in the Mid Rim. Apparently there was a
dispute over the food distribution rights from a multi-world farming
consortium... He sighed and leaned back into the seat as he waited for the
discussions to end.

	Mercifully, it only took the Senate another half-hour to finish. "The
Senate will now recognize Jedi Master Dellen Coureran," Borsk Fey'lya
announced from the central podium with a slight hint of distaste. There
were scattered cries of 'Boo' and some attempts at applause.

	Dellen came to his feet and walked to the front of the booth, checking
the mic briefly before speaking. "Representatives of the New Republic." He
looked around the chamber as his voice echoed from the cavernous walls.
"As some of you may no doubt know already, exactly sixty years ago this
month a ship commissioned by the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic left
the shipyards of Yaga Minor on a historic voyage."

	The chamber was filled with murmurs as some delegations tried to figure
out what the Jedi Master was talking about.

	"This ship was the Ny'lith Boro, the core vessel of the Outbound Flight
Project. In addition to carrying six Jedi Masters, it had a crew of over
two hundred Republic Navy personnel, scientists, and diplomats."

	The murmuring grew louder as Dellen continued. "As the Senate's history
databanks no doubt tell you, the Outbound Flight was ambushed one week
after leaving Yaga Minor on its maiden flight into the Unknown Regions.
For sixty years it has been thought to be destroyed. However," Dellen
reached down and activated the holorecording. A gigantic holographic
representation of the Milky Way galaxy appeared, floating in the center of
the chamber as it slowly spun about its axis. "I bring news that the
Outbound Flight survived that ambush. It escaped through a cosmic
disruption, a wormhole, and as I speak is in negotiations with a human
government located in the galaxy you see before you."

	Dellen looked about the chamber again, which had exploded into
discussion. He raised his voice just enough to be heard over the Senate.
"But I have not come before you to give you a history lesson, even if I am
a historian. The fact is that the Outbound Flight is trapped in that
galaxy with a jury-rigged hyperdrive. Without your help, Senators, that
crew of two hundred Republic citizens will be trapped there forever. I
have come before you to ask the Republic to send a ship with supplies and
replacement parts so the Ny'lith Boro can be repaired and return to our
galaxy."

	Across the chamber, the representative of the Sluis Van sector came to
his feet. "It is my understanding that humans originated in this galaxy.
How, then, can there be a human government in another galaxy so far away?"

	"Actually," Dellen said calmly, "there is no proof that humans evolved in
this galaxy. The early history of the Republic indicates that humans
spread throughout the galaxy from the Core. Corellia was one system with a
long history of human occupation, but the Corellian system is artificial
and has no indications of human evolution on any of its planets. The same
goes for all the other planets of the early Republic."

	The Sluis Van senator snorted. "You speak of the 'Alien Origin' theory.
There is no more indication that we came from some other galaxy than there
is that we came from this galaxy, Jedi."

	"I am willing to leave this discussion to the biologists," Dellen
replied. "The fact is that the Outbound Flight discovered human
civilization in another galaxy, and is now negotiating with that
government as per its mandate. If the negotiations are successful, the
Republic will have a foothold in their galaxy and we can, perhaps, settle
the debate over the origins of humanity once and for all."

	"And under whose authority is the Outbound Flight negotiating this
agreement?" the Sluis Van senator retorted. "The Old Republic that it left
is no more. This Republic is a different republic. The Outbound Flight has
no more authority to negotiate a binding agreement between their
government and ours than the Imperial remnant has to negotiate an
agreement between some power in the Unknown Regions and the New Republic."

	Dellen nodded slowly. "In that event, I will amend my request and ask
that in addition to the supply ship, the New Republic send a team of
negotiators to officially open talks with the other government."

	Shouting erupted in the Senate, and the communications system was shut
off for several minutes until the atmosphere in the chamber cooled down.
"Senators," Fey'lya's voice echoed, "we have a request standing. Who will
make a motion to send the supply ship that the Jedi have requested?"

	A Senator from a planet that Anakin had never seen before made the
motion, and it was seconded by yet another senator he'd never seen. The
issue was then voted on, and Anakin watched the results interestedly.

	"The nays have it, I am afraid," Fey'lya announced with what Anakin
thought was just the barest hint of a smile. "We will not provide a supply
ship to bring the Jedi of the Outbound Flight back. However, if the Jedi
wish to supply their own ship, I am willing to make a motion to send
negotiators to this other galaxy. Who will second the motion?"

	The senator from the Hapes Cluster seconded the motion, which was then
promptly voted on.

	"The ayes have it," Fey'lya announced, turning his attention to the Jedi.
"Masters Coureran and Skywalker, we will provide diplomats if necessary
but finding a ship is left up to you. We thank you for your time."

	"How does he expect us to supply a ship?" Anakin said with youthful
outrage as they walked from the booth. "First he cuts our support, then he
wants us to provide our own supply ship?"

	Mara sighed and patted Anakin on the shoulder. "I was actually expecting
it to be worse," she said.

	As they continued walking through the halls of the Senate building,
approaching the entrance they'd come in from, Anakin heard the sound of
running feet behind them and turned around.

	"Sir?" It was a young Senatorial aide, not much older than he was. "Which
one of you is Master Dellen?"

	"I am," Dellen said as he stopped. "What seems to be the matter?"

	The young man collected himself, but he was still breathing hard from
running. "I'm Senator Sal-Solo's assistant. The Senator would like to
speak to you regarding your request. If you could follow me...?"

	"Senator Sal-Solo?" Anakin asked in confusion. "Thrackan Sal-Solo?"

	"Yes," Mara whispered into Anakin's ear. "He was released from prison two
years ago on the provision that he help the Republic understand how
Centerpoint works. After doing that, he went and ran for the Corellian
sector's Senate representative."

	They continued following the aide until they reached the Corellian Senate
office. The aide disappeared inside momentarily, then re-emerged. "He'll
see you now."

	As Anakin stepped into Sal-Solo's office, his cousin came to his feet.
"Master Coureran, Master Skywalker. Welcome to my office. I'm afraid it's
not that spacious, but room is rather short here." Thrackan turned to Mara
and Anakin and nodded. "Miss Jade, a pleasure meeting you once again."

	"It's Mrs. Skywalker now," Mara replied coldly.

	Thrackan looked between Mara and Luke in surprise. "Well, congratulations
then. I'm afraid I was out of the loop for a few years, as you probably
know."

	"I'm aware of it."

	Sal-Solo ignored the tone of Mara's reply and instead walked over to
Anakin. "The last time I saw you, cousin, you were only... what, seven?" 

	Anakin nodded without smiling. Sal-Solo's appearance had not changed much
since the Centerpoint Station crisis, save for his hair becoming almost
all gray. By the same token, Anakin's opinion of his cousin had also not
changed much. He still remembered all too well being trapped inside the
Drall planetary repulsor and having Sal-Solo trying to kill them when they
escaped in the Millennium Falcon.

	"To think that was ten years ago already..."

	"Spare me," Anakin snapped. "You didn't call us in here just to get all
mushy and reminiscent."

	Thrackan jerked back as if he'd burned his hand, but regained his
composure moments later. "No, I didn't." he said slowly. "But in the eight
years I spent in the Dorthus Tal prison on Saccoria, I came to realize my
errors. Revenge means nothing to me now, even if it motivated me to do
what I did all those years ago. Don't you see? I'm a changed man."

	"I'm sure you are," Anakin said with just enough sarcasm to imply he was
thinking "Can we get on with it?"

	"Well, you're right. On to business..." Thrackan turned back to face
Dellen. "Master Coureran, I understand you're a Corellian."

	"Saccoria, actually."

	"Ah. Close. The Corellian Engineering representative guessed from your
name that you were Corellian. He told me to let you know that he was
offering to sponsor a supply mission. It'll be completely private. CEC
will provide you with several freighters, supplies, and an escort, and
CorSec will provide the crews. Are you interested?"

	"What's the catch?" Dellen said, his face plain.

	"There is none," Sal-Solo replied. "We're always willing to help fellow
Corellians. Additionally, CEC has been waiting on the Republic forever for
a real trial of their new Vigorous-class Star Cruiser. The CEC
representative thought this would be a good chance to highlight the new
ship's features and perhaps convince the Republic that it's a worthwhile
design."

	Dellen allowed a wan smile to cross his face. "And at the same time,
Corellia has a chance to gain more influence. Thank you, Senator."

	"That's quite true, influence does have much to do with politics,"
Thrackan admitted with a sigh. "Regardless, we are willing to provide you
with this at no cost. Since the rest of the Senate was fairly hostile to
your proposal, I would suggest you take it."

	"Where is the CEC representative? I would like to meet him personally,"
Dellen replied.

	"I can arrange that," Thrackan said. "If you would follow me, please."


* * *


	The chamber that the Republic-Federation negotiations were held in was an
unassuming room aboard Earth Spacedock, contained deep within the station
to preclude the possibility of any meetings being interrupted by an
attack. They had chosen Spacedock specifically for its neutral location as
a midway point between the Republic ship and Earth, and the fact that
being a space station it was by definition immobile.

	Currently, only half of the seats at the conference table in the center
of the chamber were filled. The other half were empty, awaiting the return
of the diplomats they had been assigned to. In keeping with the fact that
the talks were bilateral, the table's seating had been split down the
middle. One side was for the Republic diplomats and the other side was
occupied by the Federation diplomats.

	Jorus C'baoth sighed as he waited for the Federation diplomats to talk
amongst themselves. It had been a long week, with the fleshing out of
minutiae on both sides as they strove to reach a comfortable middle
ground. In another week or so the negotiations could begin in earnest, but
at the moment it appeared that the Federation still wasn't quite sure what
to make of the news of a human civilization from another galaxy.

	Add to the fuss the fact that one of the Federation diplomats had been
discovered dead at his home the previous week, and C'baoth had resigned
himself to a very long and maybe not so boring summit. He knew from
experience that not all Jedi were suited to being diplomats. Some were
young and brash, not quite having grasped the nuances and meaning of the
Jedi Code. Others were inelegant with words. 

	C'baoth considered diplomacy a fine art that one got better at with time,
akin to how a fine liquor ages. In his own galaxy he had assisted in the
mediation of the Duinuogwuin-Gotal conflict in addition to numerous others
several years before the departure of the Outbound Flight. These were
perhaps his most ambitious diplomatic talks yet, but comparatively easy to
what he had done before.

	"We've come to a decision regarding foodstocks," one of the Federation
diplomats said after some time. "I have been informed to tell you that the
Federation will provide, as a favor, shipments of food for your ship's
crew until the conclusion of negotiations."

	"I would like to express my crew's gratitude," C'baoth said quite
truthfully. While the food rations aboard the Bulk Cruiser had been
designed to last for hundreds of years, they had only been scheduled to
run on a short flight through the Unknown Regions when they had been
intercepted. As a result, the ship had not been fully stocked and in the
past week they had begun to run critically short of rations. "If there is
anything reasonable we can provide in turn--"

	Loud beeping from the commlink in a pocket of C'baoth's robes interrupted
him. Looking nonplussed, he reached down and picked it up. "Yes?"

	"Helsani here." C'baoth had appointed Master Jostein Helsani as the Jedi
adviser to Outbound Flight Security, so whatever this was it had to do
with the ship. "We've arrested a crewman who was snooping around Computer
Operations. I need to talk to you in person about him."

	"I'll be right over," he said before switching the commlink off and
stuffing it back in his pocket. "If you'll excuse me," C'baoth said to the
Federation diplomats, "there seems to be a pressing matter on my ship I
need to attend to."



	After a short shuttle flight to the Bulk Cruiser and a quick walk to the
brig, C'baoth found himself looking at a fairly typical young man with
straight brown hair, who obstinately refused to say anything.

	"He tried to commit suicide earlier," Helsani explained. "There was a
small implant under his tongue that would have released poison through his
system. We barely managed to prevent him from using it."

	"Good work," C'baoth said absently. "What's the crewman's name?"

	Helsani looked down at the datapad he was carrying. "Well, according to
the ship's roster his name is Kelras Dargont. However, we took a blood
sample earlier and it doesn't match the sample in the crew roster."

	C'baoth said nothing for a time, instead lost deep in thought. "Someone
had to have a way of tracking us," he said. "Either that, or they knew our
flight plan, which outside the Jedi Order only Chancellor Palpatine knew.
So perhaps this man was their informant." C'baoth turned toward the
prisoner and keyed the intercom. "How long have you been aboard this
ship?"

	Dargont answered him with a glare but no words.

	"As I said," Helsani remarked, "he hasn't said anything. We've attempted
to persuade him, but he seems to be very well-trained."

	C'baoth studied the man for several more minutes. He couldn't see
anything wrong with his appearance. "Have you thought about looking into
his mind?"

	"The possibility has come up, but I'd prefer not to unless there is no
other option."

	He nodded. The Jedi Order frowned on using the Force to intrude into
another being's mind unless it was absolutely necessary. There had been
cases in the distant past of particularly sensitive beings who had been
interrogated by Jedi and went insane, or lost memories, as a result. The
Jedi had refined their techniques since then but the risk always loomed
over them.

	"I must return to the conference," C'baoth finally said. "Keep me
informed."



CHAPTER TWENTY



	"We've picked up a transmission, Sir."
	Captain Benjamin Ollic of the Imperator-class Star Destroyer Magistrate
regarded the reporting ensign with a tired eye. "It might help if you
elucidated," he said with a sigh. Not all of the Magistrate's crew was
well-trained. Many of the lower ranks were filled with young men and women
from backwater planets who were all too eager to see the galaxy from a
warship. Their planets had been neglected by the Old Republic, the Empire,
and the New Republic that followed. Tired of being raided by pirates and
the like, the planets in question had gladly accepted Commodore Mantrel's
offer of defense in exchange for much-needed food stocks and material
supplies for the fleet. Additionally, the Commodore recognized the crewing
problem his fleet had -- for several years Ollic couldn't remember a time
when the ships were above fifty percent staffed -- and had extended the
offer of positions aboard the fleet to aspiring students.

	The ensign, a young man from one of the said planets, swallowed hard at
the chastening. "I'm afraid I don't know much about it, Sir. The signal
was encrypted with a very old code and is encoded in a fashion the
computer doesn't recognize. I don't believe it's Basic. Sir."

	"I'll have a look at it then," Ollic said and followed the crewman down
into the communications pit. He peered at the screen for several seconds,
squinting as a garbled message flashed across it. Finally he shook his
head. "I don't recognize it either. Ensign, I want you to copy the entire
transmission to a datachip for me."

	The crewman did as he was told, and handed Ollic a datachip several
seconds later. Wordlessly, the Captain took the chip and ascended out of
the communications pit, then in several long strides crossed over to the
turbolift. One minute later found him walking down the corridor that led
to Commodore Mantrel's private quarters.

	"Enter," he heard the Commodore's voice say when he buzzed the door
chime. He stepped into darkness, and after a moment of shock remembered
that the Chiss eye structure allowed them to see better in the dark than
most humanoids. Of course, it was also why their eyes appeared to glow
red. "What seems to be the matter, Captain?"

	Ollic, trying not to stumble in the dim light, made his way to the
Commodore's spartan desk. Unlike Grand Admiral Thrawn, Mantrel had very
little in his quarters. While some artwork was displayed on the wall, the
selection in the holographic database was not anywhere near as large as
the late Grand Admiral's.

	"We intercepted a transmission several minutes ago," Ollic explained
briefly. "The crewman at the comm station determined that the message was
encoded in an old Imperial code, but was not able to determine the
character encoding to read the message."

	Mantrel wordlessly took the datachip and inserted it into a reader on his
desk. He silently studied the message for several minutes before Ollic
interrupted.

	"Do you know what it means?" he asked softly.

	The Commodore came to his feet, his face plain. "I do not know exactly at
this time," he said, "but I fully intend to find out. Have the fleet
prepared for immediate departure. I will be on the bridge shortly with the
destination."

	"Yes, Commodore." Ollic turned and left the quarters. As soon as he
reached the bridge, he went over to the comm station. "Attention. This is
the captain speaking. All hands, prepare for immediate departure," he
announced with slight bewilderment at the Commodore's sudden orders.

	Mantrel arrived at the bridge several scant minutes later, and delivered
another datachip to the crew in the navigation pit. Ollic stepped over to
where the Commodore stood and snapped to attention. "The fleet is prepared
as per your orders, Commodore."

	"Good." Mantrel looked toward the navigation pit. "Helm, execute a
hyperspace jump to the provided coordinates on my mark, full flank speed."

	Ollic frowned. Full flank speed? They had not pushed the fleet to full
flank in several months. He wondered what the urgency was. "Sir, if I may
ask, what is our destination?"

	The Commodore regarded him silently as the fleet jumped to hyperspace.
"Csilla," he said in a quiet tone. "The message was a distress signal from
the Ruling Families. The homeworlds are under attack by an unknown alien
force, and their defenses are being overrun. They are requesting the
assistance of the Syndic House Phalanx." Mantrel exhaled quietly before
continuing. "The Syndic House Phalanx, unfortunately, has not existed for
a number of years. You likely know of it as the Hand of Thrawn, but I
learned that the main base on Nirauan was infiltrated by New Republic
agents and subsequently destroyed. As far as I have been able to
determine, we are the only surviving group left by Grand Admiral Thrawn."

	So that explained the sense of urgency, Ollic concluded. "Did the message
mention how strong the attacking force is?"

	Mantrel shook his head. "That is one thing we will have to find out when
we arrive. 


	A little bit over a half-hour later, the Magistrate and its accompanying
fleet reverted from hyperspace over the Chiss capital world of Csilla. The
icy planet, which normally was decorated with a small amount of greenery
at the equator, was covered in hazy clouds of water vapor from melted
glaciers. Wreckage from a fierce naval battle was scattered in orbit,
mainly from hopelessly outdated warships of questionable origin.
Interspersed among it were jagged chunks of rock, floating freely in the
microgravity of orbit. Here and there, a piece of wreckage would begin to
plunge to the planet below, trailing plasma behind it as it encountered
the atmosphere.

	"Status?" Ollic asked in the general direction of the sensor pit.

	"No ships of any type detected in the system, Sir," the crewman at the
sensor station reported. "There's wreckage but no survivors and many
rocks. All cities on the planetary surface have been largely destroyed.
Life readings are concentrated in underground tunnels below the glaciers."

	"Ensign," Commodore Mantrel stepped over to stand beside Ollic, "what is
the composition of the rocky debris in orbit?"

	There was a pause as the sensor operator tapped away at his station.
"Primarily calcium, Sir, with traces of ferrous and non-ferrous metals. No
traces of technology."

	Mantrel studied the debris that could be seen floating outside the bridge
viewports for several seconds. "Cross-reference the results with known
silicon life-forms."

	Ollic blinked. A space slug couldn't have caused this level of
destruction, and it would be odd to find one living outside an asteroid
belt anyway.

	"Results show a positive similarity with 56 percent probability, Sir."

	The Commodore chose to keep his thoughts to himself, whatever they may
have been. "Instruct Colonel Marsh to deploy forces near the city
entrances and secure the area for aid drops. Then instruct Captain Witt to
begin deploying landing craft with supplies."

	Captain Witt commanded the largest freighter in Mantrel's small fleet.
His ship, ironically enough, had been considered a battleship in the Clone
Wars, being one of the few Trade Federation armed freighters that had
survived the conflict. Now it was the main supply carrier for the fleet,
using its massive three kilometer bulk to the fullest extent.

	Far below, Ollic watched the Imperial Army dropships begin their descent
to the frozen surface of Csilla. They were of the smaller sort, not like
the massive barges used to carry the AT-AT walkers. The Magistrate only
had one AT-AT left at any rate, and while they maintained it in working
condition, Colonel Marsh rarely ordered it deployed.

	"Colonel Marsh reports the LZ as secure, Sir," the crewman at comm
relayed several minutes later. "Captain Witt is now launching transports."

	Mantrel walked away from the crew pits and stopped in front of the bridge
viewports. Mystified, Ollic followed him.

	"This was going to happen sooner or later," Mantrel said in a quiet
voice, nodding at the devastation below. "The Ruling Families, still angry
at what they perceived as Thrawn's betrayal, did not want our protection.
We operated from the shadows, keeping the worst threats away from them.
They grew complacent, thinking that their weak defenses were protecting
them. Then the Grand Admiral appointed me to oversee part of his campaign
twenty years ago." He shook his head. "I had not returned here since."

	Ollic spun around as he heard rushed footsteps approaching, and came to
face the ensign who'd intercepted the distress signal. The ensign stopped
and snapped off a salute, perhaps a bit too sharply. "Sir. We're being
hailed by a Star Destroyer that just appeared in the system."

	The Commodore walked back to the comm station and put on a headset. After
talking quietly for several minutes, he put down the headset and turned to
Ollic. "Have the hangar bay prepared for a visitor immediately and meet me
there." With that, he turned and exited the bridge.

	"Yes, Commodore," Ollic acknowledged in bewilderment, turning to a
crewman and relaying the orders before following Mantrel off the bridge.
The day had been strange so far, and he idly wondered how much more
strange it could get.


	Captain Ollic arrived at the hangar bay just in time to see a heavily
modified Lambda shuttle land on the deck, escorted by two fighters whose
cockpits bore a passing resemblance to the Magistrate's TIE fighters.
However, they did not sport the typical radiator panels of the Sienar
fighters, instead having four flat arms that curved outward diagonally
much like claws and terminated in laser cannons. The rear of the cockpit
similarly was not equipped with the standard twin ion engines, but rather
was elongated and sported far larger engines at the end.

	As he walked up to the Commodore, the shuttle's landing ramp descended
and an older man of a medium wiry build, whose close-cut hair was a solid
white and who wore a black patch over one eye, walked from the shuttle.
Ollic recognized him from somewhere, but the name escaped him.

	At the same time, the cockpits of the modified TIE fighters opened up,
and their pilots scrambled out. One of them was about the same height as
the old man, and as he took his helmet off, Ollic saw that he shared the
same facial features. His hair was jet black and likewise cropped short
save for a short ponytail in the back; a large scar ran vertically over
his right eye.

	"Tholic Mikral'man'trelan," the old man said as he approached Mantrel.
"You are the last person I expected to see here." He took the Commodore's
hand and shook it. "I was under the impression you had died, since I had
not heard from you for so long."

	"General Baron Soontir Fel," Mantrel acknowledged formally. "I thought
the same of you."

	Something finally clicked in Ollic's mind, and he realized that the man
he saw was none other than the legendary Baron Soontir Fel, former
commander of the 181st Interceptor Squadron. Fel walked over to him next.

	"Captain Benjamin Ollic, commander of the Magistrate," Ollic provided. "A
pleasure to meet you, Baron Fel."

	Fel nodded and shook his hand. "The pleasure is mine. Thrawn mentioned
you long ago. He told me that you were one of his rising stars." The old
man sighed and stepped back. "But we must attend to the matter at hand.
You arrived before I did. What did you find?"

	"There was no sign of the attackers," Ollic replied. "It was apparently a
hit and fade operation."

	"As I feared," Fel said. "I had been noticing a string of similar hit and
fade strikes across the region. Each time they struck fast and hard, then
vanished without a trace."

	Mantrel looked at Fel with a serious expression on his face. "I believe
they may be using ships of organic origin from the debris they left."

	Baron Fel frowned. "Organic ships? I would have expected them to be
weaker in that case."

	"Nevertheless, they struck at Csilla, overwhelmed the defenses, and wiped
out several cities. I would not underestimate them."

	"We have not," Fel replied. He gestured for the young black-haired pilot
to join the group. "I would like to introduce my son, Colonel Jagged Fel."

	After they briefly exchanged greetings, the elder Fel returned to
business. "Jag here commands Spike Squadron, part of the Syndic House
phalanx. His squadron has been shadowing the invaders for several months
now. Perhaps he can tell you more about them than I can. In the meantime,
I would like to take a closer look at the damage they caused this time."

	"We can discuss matters en route to the surface then," Mantrel replied as
he gestured toward the shuttle. "After you, gentlemen."


	Inside the shuttle, Jag punched some data into the holoprojector and a
map of the Unknown Regions appeared. After tapping some more buttons,
points of red light appeared across the map, where bright red was the
newest and dark red was the oldest. Together they formed a strange web
with no clear beginning or end.

	"This is a composite of all the points the intruders have been sighted
at," Jag explained. "And of the planets they have struck so far. I have
not been able to determine a clear pattern to it save that the intruders
are attempting to scout this region completely."

	Mantrel studied the hologram for some time. "They move randomly," he
finally said. "Their commander is unsure if he can fulfill his objective,
so he chooses his moves slowly to ensure his survival."

	The elder Fel nodded in agreement. "We had already concluded that their
commander was confused about what he was doing and unfamiliar with the
region. But what do you believe is his objective?"

	"Hit and fade strikes are only useful for demoralizing an enemy and
temporarily damaging infrastructure," Mantrel replied. "Based on the
strikes the commander has made so far, that is exactly what he is trying
to do in this area. Perhaps he is an advance force, attempting to soften
the region up for an actual incursion."

	Fel bit his lip. "That's as good a hypothesis as any of us have," he
said. "It leaves me wondering where he will strike next, however."

	Mantrel studied the map some more as the shuttle came to rest on the
frozen surface of Csilla. He finally shook his head. "I cannot predict
anything with a reasonable probability, but if the commander is competent
he will expect important targets to be more alert after this strike and so
I would expect him to strike at a less important target or merely scout
the area further."

	"Which is what I was afraid of," Baron Fel said. "We will have to step up
our search efforts. This commander cannot be allowed to continue raiding
indiscriminately."

	Jag Fel, meanwhile, produced a number of heavily insulated suits that the
four officers donned before walking down the landing ramp of the shuttle.
They were met at the bottom by Colonel Marsh, who was wearing a
snowtrooper suit.

	"No enemy forces found so far," he said as they walked toward the
entrance of an underground city. "It appears to have been purely an
orbital bombardment. We estimate the casualties in this region of the
planet alone to be in the millions."

	"What about food prodution facilities?" Baron Fel asked.

	"The surface has been devastated," Colonel Marsh replied. "Some
greenhouses survived, but the vast majority have been destroyed."

	"We'll have to increase shipments from the colonies," Fel said, more to
himself than anyone present. "Commodore, how much food can you spare from
your fleet?"

	"We cannot feed the entire planet, if that is what you are asking,"
Mantrel replied. "Csilla had a population numbering in the billions. We
have enough supplies to feed a million for perhaps a month."

	"That won't do," Fel replied as he surveyed the destruction surrounding
them. In the distance, steam continued to boil from a large ice crater
where a building had once stood; small rivulets of water radiated from the
crater like crystal-clear veins. Fragments of boiled rock surrounded the
impact site, and Ollic reached down and picked a small fragment at his
feet up. It resembled volcanic rock, filled with holes left by expanding
gas. Half of it was covered in durasteel alloy that had melted around it,
while the other half was a charred black color.

	Yet Csilla was not a highly active volcanic planet, meaning that the
molten rock must have come from another source. Its proximity to the blast
crater suggested that it was a byproduct of the attack. But the crater was
on top of a glacier, and the nearest solid rock was about two hundred feet
below them.

	"I've never heard of molten rock being used as a weapon before," he
muttered under his breath.

	As they mounted a steep staircase that wound down into the rock between
two glaciers, Ollic pondered the situation. Organic ships, molten rock
weaponry... these invaders truly were inept if that was all they had. But
they had somehow managed to overwhelm Csilla's defenses all the same. That
was what worried him.

	They walked into a large underground chamber and as Ollic swept his gaze
across hundreds if not thousands of wounded Chiss citizens scattered
around and being treated for injuries, the magnitude of the situation
struck him.

	Beside him, Baron Fel's features hardened into a steely gaze. "They will
pay for this," he proclaimed. "They will certainly pay."



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE



	At over two kilometers in length, the Vigorous was the largest warship Anakin
had ever been on in his seventeen years, that is if he didn't count the warlord
Hethrir's worldcraft as a warship. Even so he couldn't even remember being on
the ship, which wasn't that surprising since he was only one year old at the
time.
	The Vigorous followed the very practical wedge design that Kuat had introduced
with their Acclamator and continued in the other Star Destroyer designs.
However, the ship was the Corellian take on the design and as such wasn't a
true Star Destroyer. Also, unlike the classic Kuat tower atop the
superstructure, the Vigorous had the typical squat cylinder of a bridge common
to Corellian warships. 
	Arms-wise, the ship was equal to or better than any other Star Cruiser in its
class. Eighteen massive turbolaser turrets adorned both sides of the ship's
hull, staggered along the length of the ship to allow better firing arcs.
Hundreds of smaller turbolasers covered every possible attack vector on the
ship. Topping it off were nearly three dozen ion cannon and well over a dozen
missile launcher batteries.
	Anakin sighed, almost inaudibly, as he turned away from the bridge viewports.
He could rattle off the technical specifications of the major Star Destroyer
classes without even really thinking about it. His brother had always poked fun
at the way he had memorized all that seemingly useless information, along with
sundry other technical data. What Jacen wouldn't admit was that Anakin's
seemingly useless knowledge had come in handy more than once. But then again,
Jacen didn't really care for technology. He preferred biology, a subject that
Anakin professed no knowledge of and made him shiver sometimes. Neither brother
really understood why the other liked what they did, but they did complement
each other when Luke had given them assignments together.
	Back to the issues at hand, Anakin thought to himself. It had been two weeks
since Master Dellen had accepted Senator Sal-Solo's offer. Two weeks of frantic
preparations in the Corellian shipyards before they were ready to leave. Now,
the Vigorous and its three charges were hurtling through hyperspace into the
Unknown Regions of the galaxy, toward a wormhole that Anakin wasn't even sure
existed. He shrugged. They'd find out soon enough.
	"Hyperspace reversion in T minus 20 minutes and counting," the intercom
announced. "All hands, report to stations."
	Anakin crossed the bridge in a few quick strides and walked down a short
flight of stairs to the navigator's station. The navigator was a senior
lieutenant in CorSec who had been traveling hyperspace since before Anakin was
born. At Master Dellen's insistence, Anakin had been officially made "Assistant
Navigator" of the Vigorous. This essentially entailed guiding the ship through
the wormhole and helping plot hyperspace courses once they were in the other
galaxy. He didn't mind, since the senior lieutenant had been "showing him the
ropes" over the past two weeks and he'd learned quite a bit already.
	The navigator glanced over as Anakin took his seat next to him. "Ready?" That
one word conveyed everything the navigator was thinking. This was it, and any
mistake made could kill them all.
	"Ready," Anakin responded, but he wasn't sure if he meant it.

	The black hole – which, Anakin reflected, looked anything but black when
viewed from a close distance – was exactly where it was supposed to be.
Remembering what his father had told him about the Maw Cluster, he suppressed a
shudder. But then again, his father did tell him about how Kyp Durron had
managed, without any Jedi training, to navigate through the cluster.
	But this was different. He wasn't just running past a black hole at a high
fraction of lightspeed. He was going to override the hyperdrive's failsafe
circuits and hit the gravity well at somewhere in excess of a million times
lightspeed. Most navigators had a term for that: suicide.
	The only comforting fact was that the Outbound Flight and Master Dellen's
shuttle had managed this feat on two occasions.
	Not quite as reassuringly, the Corellian engineers had explained their
"improvements" to the hyperdrives of the four ships. They had taken a simple
brute-force approach, adding in an absurd amount of capacitors and
surge-absorbing circuitry that, in theory, would absorb any damaging back-fed
power and blow up before the hyperdrive's control circuitry did. They had rated
it at somewhere around five times what the hyperdrive was theoretically capable
of handling.
	If the circuits worked, then all they'd have to do is replace the damaged
circuits. If the circuits didn't work, well, that's why the freighters were
carrying a number of replacement hyperdrive cores.
	Anakin put his mind back to the task at hand. He was acutely aware that all
eyes on the bridge were focused on him now, but pushed the feeling aside. He
took a deep breath, and reached out.
	Suddenly, he was aware of all four ships, insignificant bubbles that glowed
brightly in the Force. Almost sixteen thousand crewmen, he realized abruptly.
Sixteen thousand people that were counting on him. Sixteen thousand people with
families to return to. Fourteen thousand were on the Vigorous, with the
remaining 2,000 spread across the three freighters--
	He dropped that train of thought as abruptly as it had started, and reached
out further. The system had a number of lifeless rocks, cooked by the heat of
the star that had once sustained them millennia ago. Some were planets, now
barren. Others were the remains of comets and asteroids.
	Anakin reached further. Now he could feel the incredible gravitational forces
in the system's center. Some rocks unlucky enough were caught in a never-ending
downward spiral, their orbits having been too close to the black hole to escape
it. Those even closer had been pulverized into fine dust by the tidal forces,
forming a massive disc around the collapsed star that funneled material into
it. Radiation caused the disc to glow brightly, but Anakin couldn't see any of
it. He simply knew it was there.
	Still deeper he reached, past the event horizon, the point at which light
could not escape. If he was there physically, his body would already have been
ripped apart.
	Then Anakin saw it. It wasn't an object, it was a simple mathematical radius.
Similar to the event horizon but not quite, he realized that if they hit that
point exactly while in hyperspace, the gravity would steal a considerable
amount of energy from the ships, and thanks to the bizarre nature of tachyons,
the loss would catapult them through space-time. He reached down and started
entering in the numbers that came to him unbidden.
	"Coordinates set," he finally said as he sat back up straight, rubbing his
eyes even though they'd been closed the entire time. Looking down at his
chronometer, he realized that the whole thing had taken under an hour – and it
had seemed like five minutes to him. His aunt Mara was standing directly behind
him, and she nodded with approval.
	"Are you sure they're correct?" Anakin turned to see the captain of the
Vigorous looking down at him from his position on the bridge. Justis Sicuro was
a Colonel in CorSec, and a fairly young one at that, perhaps in his early
thirties. His slightly longer-than-regulation black hair was combed straight to
the sides, accenting his elongated cheekbones. Even though he was of average
height, his elevated position made him look like a giant at the moment.
	"I'm sure," Anakin replied.
	Sicuro turned to the other side of the bridge, where Anakin knew that
Comm-Scan was located. "Slave the freighters to our navicomp," he barked.
"We'll make the jump in T minus 2 minutes."
	"Freighters slaved, Sir," an ensign called from Comm-Scan. "They report they
are ready for the jump."
	"Shields?"
	"Shields up, generators at 99% efficiency."
	"Weapons?"
	"All weapons charged and ready."
	Captain Sicuro nodded and turned back to Anakin. "Make the jump. May the Force
be with us."




	It was, Anakin later recalled, like slamming into a duracrete wall at full
speed. The inertial compensators had nearly blown out from the effort, and
would have to be replaced. Other than that, the Vigorous suffered little
damage. The surge-absorption circuitry had done what it was designed to do and
blown up, sparing the control circuits and the rest of the systems. There had
been a number of minor injuries, mostly from unaware crew getting thrown across
rooms when the inertial compensators had overloaded. One crewman had managed to
break his neck and the medical droids were now working him over.
	The freighters hadn't been so lucky. One of them had completely blown the
hyperdrive. Not just the control circuits, the whole thing, core and all.
Another freighter had managed to overload the surge suppressors and blew its
motivator up. Fortunately, they had replaced that part fairly 	quickly. The
third one was in much the same condition as the Vigorous, except that some of
its cargo had come loose, making cleanup in the cargo hold interesting
considering that it was carrying mostly food.
	He was jolted out of his reflection by the sharp report of a crewman at
Comm-Scan.
	"Captain, we've picked up an inbound on the scopes," the crewman exclaimed.
"Unknown type, appears to be..." He paused momentarily. "It appears to be in a
subspace bubble. Estimated size is 27 cubic kilometers. ETA in five minutes."
	"Subspace warp," Sicuro muttered, walking over to Anakin. "Master Dellen
mentioned that's widely used over here. Do you have any idea who it might be?"
	Anakin shook his head. Master Dellen had told him as much as he knew, but had
conceded that there was much about the new galaxy that he didn't know. "It's a
big ship, let's hope it's friendly," he offered. Several crewmen snorted in
amusement at the remark.
	"We don't know that," Sicuro remarked as he sighed and grabbed a comlink. "All
hands, battlestations. Freighters, lock down and prepare for battle."
	At once the crew began rushing about. Orders were barked and carried out. In
the middle of it all, Anakin merely watched, feeling somewhat useless. Of
course, he knew that there really was nothing he could do that the bridge crew
couldn't do better, but that didn't stop the feeling.
	"Subspace reversion at 317 by 110 mark 228, range 510,000 klicks," Comm-Scan
announced. "Inbound on an intercept course with Freighter 3, ETA in three
minute."
	"Hail them, all frequencies," Sicuro ordered.
	Several uncomfortable seconds passed as the entire bridge crew watched he
inbound – which could now clearly be seen as a cube – approach on the
holographic tactical map. As it neared, more and more detail was revealed on
its surface, which by this point best approximated a schizophrenic plumber's
worst nightmares. Whatever it was, Anakin thought, it wasn't a warship.
	"Incoming transmission, audio only," a crewman reported.
	Sicuro nodded. "Let's hear it."
	As the transmission began to play, half the crew on the bridge shuddered at
the sound of the voice, or rather, voices. "We are the Borg. Your biological
and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is
futile."
	"So much for friendly," someone muttered as Sicuro grabbed a mic and keyed it
on.
	"This is Captain Justis Sicuro of the Corellian Sector Defense Force warship
Vigorous. The freighter you are approaching is under our protection. You will
divert your course away from the freighters within ten seconds or we will open
fire."
	Their reply was swift. "We are Borg. Protection is irrelevant. Resistance is
futile."
	Anakin watched as the chronometers on the bridge ticked the thirty seconds
away, while the cube showed no signs of changing its course. He knew that
Sicuro had seen it, too.
	"Gunnery, fire one light battery as a warning shot," Sicuro ordered, his face
grim. Anakin stepped over to the bridge windows and watched as a forward
battery spat four green blasts that vanished into the distance almost
immediately.
	"Confirmation of hit, no effect. They just locked a tractor beam on Freighter
3."
	The general atmosphere grew tense as Sicuro gritted his teeth. "Captain
Arkala, turn your ship around and try to break their lock. Gunnery, all
batteries fire on my mark."
	He waited for a long, tense moment before calling  "Mark." 
	Eighteen huge pairs of emerald bolts and hundreds of smaller bolts lanced out
toward the cube. Even from the extreme distance, Anakin could see the brilliant
glow as the turbolasers found their mark.
	"Damage estimate..." The Comm-Scan operator trailed off as he read whatever
figures the computer was presenting him with. "Fifty-one percent of the enemy
ship destroyed. They are maintaining tractor beam lock."
	"After taking that much damage?" Sicuro's voice was incredulous. "Maintain
fire."
	After several more volleys, all that remained of the Borg ship was half-melted
wreckage and scattered atoms.
	Sicuro sighed and leaned on the tactical map display. "Damage report?"
	"Freighter 3 lost their primary reverse power coupling when they went to full
thrust. They are working to repair it as we speak."
	He nodded. "Comm-Scan, maintain long range scans, I want to know if something
sneezes twenty light-years from here." Of course it was an exaggeration, but
that hardly mattered. At least they would know if something was coming again.
	"Yes, Sir."



	* * *



	Borsk Fey'lya considered the ever-growing mountain of flimsiplast sheets and
datapads on his heavy wooden desk and frowned. Since Leia Organa-Solo had
resigned as Chief of State, the burden on him had increased by a ludicrous
amount. Well, there was one way to fix that, he reasoned; he'd have to find and
groom someone to replace her. The Senate was already considering replacements,
but he couldn't say that he liked any of them. Most of them were nobodies,
people from obscure sectors with no real political aspirations of their own, no
clearly defined motives that he could exploit and manipulate. Almost all of
them had only been mentioned because they knew someone who was a somebody in
the Senate. Puppets, that's what they were. That in itself wasn't bad. As a
matter of fact, Fey'lya rather liked puppets. He just didn't like people who
weren't *his* puppets.
	"Mr. President?" An aide, human and rather scared by the looks of it, had just
stuck his head inside the office door. "I have an update for you on the
Rhommamool situation."
	Fey'lya, as if to dismiss the aide's statement, swept his hand across the
desk. "Leave it on the top of the pile, I'll get to it."
	The aide took several steps forward and then hesitated. "But Mr. President
sir, it's marked Urgent."
	"Just leave it and get out," Fey'lya barked irritably.
	"Yes Sir, Mr. President sir," he stammered before dropping the datapad on the
desk and doing his best to quickly get out the door without actually running.
	Fey'lya picked up the datapad and glanced over its summary. So the
anti-technology uprisings on Rhommamool had led to them declaring war on
Osarian. Interplanetary missiles had been fired, and the major cities on both
worlds now had casualties in the millions. So what, he thought. It was all over
the news anyway, and there was not much more he could do about the two
troublesome backwater worlds. Good riddance.
	He was about to drop the datapad back on his desk when the next line caught
his eye. "Sympathetic uprisings spreading like wildfire through the Middle
Rim," he read aloud. "One hundred twenty six worlds declare independence from
technology, Republic."
	Fey'lya threw the datapad at his desk; the resilient piece of equipment
bounced off the dark inlaid wood surface, skidded across the slick black floor,
and finally came to a rest on a richly textured Bothan tapestry.	
	"Artensia?" he called into the comm. "Would you page Senator Shesh? I need to
speak to her at once. We have a situation."	
	"Certainly," the secretary replied.

	By the time Viqi Shesh's visage appeared on the holocom, Fey'lya had already
crossed the room and retrieved the datapad. He tapped the answer button and
settled back in his chair.
	"You wished to speak to me?"
	The Bothan cleared his throat. "Since you were recently appointed chair of the
diplomacy committee, I'm sending you the files on the Rhommamool situation. The
Navy was not terribly effective at defusing the conflict between Rhommamool and
Osarian, and now everything's blown up around it. We have planets revolting,
it's basically a free-for-all. I need you to get your diplomatic corps together
and put an end to this nonsense."
	"We've been watching it," Shesh replied as she scanned something offscreen.
"One hundred twenty six planets? That's old already. Holonet estimates have it
at close to five hundred now."
	"I don't have time to watch the Holonet, much less find information of
relevance," Fey'lya retorted. "That's why I have my aides write summaries.
Anyway, I don't care if it takes a thousand diplomats. You have the resources
on hand to deal with this before it gets completely out of hand. Just do it."
	Shesh hesitated. "We'll have to put a hold on some of the trade renegotiations
we've been conducting with various independent sectors."
	"Who cares about the trade agreements? The Middle Rim is coming unglued. Don't
you think that's more important?"
	"It's important," she admitted, "but if we don't keep the trade agreements up
to date we're going to have very serious problems with supply, particularly
here."
	"Look." Fey'lya lowered his already low voice. "There's a very good chance
that you'll be nominated for Chief of State if you can pull this one off. I
don't particularly care if you put the trade agreements on hold for a few days.
They'll still be there when we get back. These planets won't, and we have to
act quickly."
	He could tell that Shesh was considering what he had said. "Very well. I'll
have the diplomatic corps mobilize. I suppose I can conduct the trade
renegotiations myself."
	Fey'lya smiled, his typical toothy grin seeming slightly eerie. "I knew I
could depend on you." He cut the connection and leaned back in his chair once
more, trying to force his mind to settle.



	Halfway around the Senate office building, Viqi Shesh was also settled back in
her chair, considering her options now. She had been hoping that Fey'lya's
first response would be to send in the New Republic Navy, further spreading it
out in its already weakened state. Instead he had called her, which was both a
blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because it meant that she had an even
better chance of getting the vacant Chief of State position. Not that she
didn't have a fighting chance already; Fey'lya quietly supported her because
they shared many of the same ideals, and she had a strong drive of her own. It
was a curse because if she succeeded too well in this latest task, then her
master plan would be set back for a time.
	Ah well. It was almost always best to strike a balance in a situation like
this. And she could always stretch out the conflict a little bit, or perhaps
just have the Navy become a clause in the fine print on the negotiations they
would work out with the prodigal planets. Say, one warship assigned to each
planet to ensure that the terms of the contract would be followed... Such a
clause would be trivial to insert, given that she had the best legal advisors
in the galaxy. It would delay her plan until they could finish negotiations,
but at the same time allow her to take all the credit for defusing the
situation. Perfect.
	Yes, she decided, Fey'lya had played right into her hands yet again, and she
hadn't had to lift a finger to do it.