Chapter 14
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN:  The shattered remnants of the once pristine ocean world of Mon Calamari sparkled like jewels through the soft blue light of its distant sun. One of the innermost planets drifted to momentarily obscure its azure glow, casting a dim twilight on the field of rocky debris. Seemingly cold and lifeless, the Calamari asteroid field stood as a tribute to the might and wrath of the Emperor and a warning to those who would ever dare to rise up against him.

            But even in the shadow of death and retribution, the resourceful Calamari who had survived the Empire’s brutal annihilation of their world had persisted in their defiance. Buried deep within one of the hundred million shattered remnants of their homeworld, a hidden base waited silently in the depths of the eclipse.

The silence, however, was soon broken as the fabric of space seemed to warble, a distinct rumbling coursing through the starfield. The almost subsonic din grew louder until it broke into a series of thundering explosions, accompanied by the appearance of a fleet of star cruisers from the horizon. Sonchu Ackbar’s fleet arrived without incident several planetary diameters away from Calamari’s asteroid field, and immediately the ships began their short sojourn toward their hidden base.

Admiral Sonchu Ackbar did his best to smile, blinking tired eyes as he gazed out of the bridge windows of the OSSUS REMEMBERED. The fleet he saw laid before him grew ever larger with each passing week, as the hopes of the New Rebel Alliance seemed to flower before his eyes.

By chance, he spotted in the distance several points of light appear on the far side of the asteroid field, and he turned around expectantly toward his bridge officers. Someone from the navigational pit informed him that the approaching IFF codes identified the ships as Amazon cruisers and Sonchu nodded, turning to Aris to vaguely hint at his relief.

As the vessels drew closer to Calamari Base, signature ripples around the approaching ships became noticeable. What had started as simple points of purple in the distance began to take warbling shape, details emerging from the unfocused haze of distance. Soon, the tapering and beautiful forms of the Amazon starships were clearly visible, evoking emotions of both awe and fear at their steady approach.

            Kithain Tiharr emerged onto the bridge of the rebel star destroyer with a slight smile on his face. Sam Stone was behind him; the pirate did not look happy. Kithain turned to Sage, who had long since retreated to one of the rear stations of the command center and tossed a small electronic device into his lap. "Consider ourselves 8,000 credits richer."

            Sage looked blankly at him. "Where'd you get this from?" he asked.

            "Just make it a point never to play sabacc with me."

Aris, who had been busying herself with listening with a pair of headphones to a computer terminal, looked up from the station she had been standing at and called to Sonchu, “Admiral," she said, her voice very dry and matter-of-fact, "our Empress wishes to speak with you in person."

            Sonchu paused and his large Calamari eyeballs blinked wide. "Empress Vortex is coming here?"

            The Amazon nodded. "Immediately. And she wishes to conference with all the constituent Rebel commanders as well."

Sonchu was dumbstruck for a moment; he hadn't anticipated the leader of the Yuufusion people herself to get directly involved in this, even though he had had extensive contact with her in order to arrange the alliance in the first place. If such word had gotten out, it would doubtlessly put her and her people in a compromising position with their looming neighbor the Empire. After his initial hesitation he nodded slightly, finding no grounds on which he might deny her request. “All right. Where shall we meet?"

            "Onboard this ship," Aris said without missing a beat, "she is already on her way."

            Sage muttered something incomprehensible underneath his breath, turning the small credit chip around between his fingers.

            "I’ll arrange for her to be conducted to the conference chambers." Rieekan volunteered.

“Empress?” Sam blinked, piping up suddenly. "I have to see this . . ."

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"Unsettling events have you here," the riddle-like speech came from the mouth of the Emperor, "significance in the Force this has. Yes, great significance." He tapped his cane, “So this, the disturbance I have felt is. An eye of the Force, you need." he breathed, "Send forth one of my own, I will. Await his arrival.”

Lisard bowed prostrate, “As you will it, holy Emperor.” The transmission faded away and the spider-droid withdrew with a soft metallic clink of its legs.

The Emperor rested his hands atop the small wooden cane and closed his eyes. He concentrated, his mind reaching through the mysterious ether of the Force, calling to his servant: come forth, Korriban.

It only took a few moments for a figure to appear from the darkness beyond the edge of the throne room. The shadow of a man, a ghastly silhouette, approached the Emperor; his face only illuminated by the crimson glow of the torches as he bowed, his amber eyes looking upon the tiny green form of Yoda with cold respect.

His hair was a stark white; contrasting with his patched black fur and solid black jumpsuit which perfectly fitted to his chiseled form. Around his wrists he wore two silver cuffs and around his waist a belt of the same color. His eyes burned like candles and his sharp panther teeth bared themselves as he dropped to a knee and spoke, “what is thy bidding, my master?”

Darth Korriban was immediately recognizable as a member of the Reformed Sith Order, a group of Dark Lords that had abandoned many of the outdated traditions of their forefathers and instead embraced an alchemic mix of technology and the mystic black arts that had made Jedi of ages long past tremble in fear. Although considered heretical by many traditional Dark Lords, the Emperor had found it profitable to enlist their support in his rule of the galaxy, managing to strike a fragile balance between the two factions. As his servant spoke, Yoda allowed himself a dark smile. “Arise,” he motioned with his hand.

Korriban did as his master instructed, standing to his full height and writhing his patched black tail in attentiveness.

"To this place of Sullust you will go," the tyrant commanded, motioning toward him with his wooden staff, "investigate its significance you will and report back to me what it is that you find.”

“Milord Emperor,” the purr of Korriban’s voice echoed lightly through the chamber, “does something concern you?”

Yoda turned from him, “Know you do all that you need. Depart now you will; assist Governor Tarvik and Lisard if need you they do."

The Sith nodded. "As you wish, exalted one."

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Everyone exchanged weary glances in meeting room of the OSSUS REMEMBERED over the cold metal table which had once served as the star destroyer’s war room. The six-pronged Imperial emblem that once adorned the table center had been painted over with the distinctive scarlet icon of the Rebel Alliance; the drab walls stripped down and repainted in a gleaming white which contrasted sharply with the ebony of space outside.

 One half of the table was reserved for the Yuufusion Imperium, the other half for the New Rebel Alliance. Empress Violet Vortex sat at the head of the table and Sonchu Ackbar opposite her. The Amazon Empress wore a billowing white gown that brushed quietly along the floor, gracefully, and yet regally, like her flowing purple hair which was a shade or two darker than the rest of her body. A nearly pure-blooded puglusian, she stood nearly two-and-a-half meters tall, with a pair of deep plum eyes that sparked with youthful fire and a benevolent warmth. Notwithstanding her stature, Violet’s delicate features and soft lines underscored the gentleness that was a trademark of her personality. But even on such a soothing face she wore a stern look; an unmistakable seriousness in her gaze that lent itself to the gravity of the situation.

Aris was beside her, her arms folded across the table with a much darker glint in her eye. She shared the table with her own fellow Amazons, along with General Tiharr, Commander Rieekan, several other leaders of Rebels who had joined Sonchu's cause and an extra visitor who had insisted on attending: Sam Stone. Sonchu had objected to him attending, but Kithain insisted that his friend be allowed to join. The space-pirate had promised to be quiet and to not interfere with the proceedings, so Sonchu had reluctantly agreed to let him sit in.

The Empress stood from her chair and the other six Yuufusion representatives bowed their heads in respect as they murmured a synchronous “sonno joi,” Gendaigo for “revere the empress.”

"Admiral Ackbar," Violet said; her hinting at the anxiety of her attitude. “I thank you for meeting on such short notice.”

Sam blinked wide when he got a full glimpse of how tall the Empress actually was. He leaned over to Kithain and poked him in the shoulder. "I don’t think I've ever seen a pair of legs talk before." he joked.

Tiharr told him to shut up and pushed him back into his chair. Empress Vortex looked aside a moment and blinked at them. The pirate shrunk back in his chair a little.

"While en-route to this base—" The Empress continued, "—one of our ships managed to intercept part of a transmission being sent from the vicinity of Sullust. It took us nearly two days to decode it, but I think you should see what we've found," she turned aside to one of her assistants, a blonde-haired and hazel-eyed vulpine. "Lais," she snapped, "play back the recording."

The Amazon nodded and pushed a small flat device out to the center of the table. After a moment, the device hummed and produced a hologram of Ysanne Lisard. The image crackled and shifted slightly a few times before animating. " . . . the Outer Rim that could have drastic repercu-cu-cu-ssions on the balance of power throug—your galaxy . . ." The image distorted and turned fuzzy, ". . .rs shut down the hypermatter reactor on—DEATH STAR . . . almost defenseless . . ." More interference, ". . . rmhole of some sort. Governor Tarvik is preparing a diplomatic convoy . . ."

"That was all we were able to capture." Lais said, "But from what we can gather—"

Kithain’s eyes widened and he did his best to keep his jaw from hitting the ground.

Sonchu looked over at him. "Something wrong, General Tiharr?"

All eyes at the table turned to Kithain. "This has something to do with our research at Sullust," he huffed. "Shortly before we were forced to evacuate, there was an accident in one of our labs. I'm willing to bet that this is the result of Professor Sunrider’s dimensional gate—"

Sonchu rolled his eyes. "Honestly, general." he waved his hand dismissively, "This nonsense about—"

"No." Violet held out her hand in Sonchu's direction, "Let him speak."

Kithain suddenly felt justified and allowed a slight smile to cross his face. He sat up in his chair and leaned forward, taking a breath. He glanced at the admiral, who folded his arms and grudgingly agreed to be silent. Tiharr nodded and turned his attention to the Empress, beginning to explain at last exactly what had happened since the failed bacta retrieval mission of the BOREALIS . . .

————————————

The durasteel door to the holding cell where Lanna Tigris, Deano Fuhrer and Jamarr Moore were being held slid up and open with a mechanical hiss. The prison, although not as run-down and as dismal as the one Captain Xavier had been put in, was little more comfortable; none of the trio had been fed or looked after in any way for the indeterminate amount of time they had been in custody. Stripped of their equipment and clothed only in the undergarments they had worn below their mock Imperial uniforms, they had neither been able to devise a means of escape nor had a way to slip out undetected if they had.

After a moment Governor Tarvik stepped into the cell, glaring about the room with contempt in his eyes. His polished black boots clicked against the metal floor until he came to stand in the middle of the chamber, his hands folded behind his back.

He was followed by another figure, somewhat taller than him, his face obscured by the hood of black cloak that he wore. His steps were more minatory, the motion of his feet silent, somehow hinting at his darker nature.

A trio of storm troopers appeared after them, holding blaster rifles across their armored chests and glaring ambiguously through their insect-like eye ports.

“That one,” Tarvik said, pointing down at Lanna, who was propped up against the far wall and staring at the floor between her knees. She did not seem to notice the arrival of the governor and his entourage, partially because she wished to ignore them, partially because her mind was still trying to ascertain how and when Weiss would send another team from the FELIX to secure their rescue. She had come to the conclusion, albeit reluctantly, that perhaps the FELIX would no longer be able to mount a recovery effort, in which case she would have to start making plans for escape. Lanna had cursed herself silently a thousand times for allowing her team to be captured, but had kept herself from condemning Khajja for abandoning them. Despite the rocks the two engineers had in their professional relationship, she knew that VonKlatt wouldn’t have done what he had done unless it was absolutely necessary.

One of the troopers stepped forward and trained his blaster on Lieutenant Tigris. Deano and Jamarr sat up defensively, but the other two troopers quickly responded by raising their weapons at them as well.

“I suggest you take a seat, gentlemen.” The governor suggested condescendingly, “I would like to conduct this interview with as little trouble as possible.”

Lanna turned to look at her comrades, “Don’t,” she shook her head and stood, allowing the two soldiers to take her by the arms. She snarled at the two and for a moment they hesitated before dragging her out of the cell. She glared at Tarvik with daggers in her eyes, cursing him in Klingon under her breath.

Tarvik did not need to hear the words nor know the language to understand her meaning. He smiled and shook his head, "Temper temper . . ." he waved a finger at her tauntingly.

They stepped out into the main hall of the detention block and the door slid shut behind them. She felt humiliated; even though the undergarments she wore were much more modest than fashionable clothes, designed more for functionality rather than sensuality, it was still underwear. Humiliation in a Klingon usually breeds anger and resentment, but it wasn’t until she noticed the two troopers behind her saying something over their radio communicators and moving their heads in their polished white helmets as if laughing did she turn around and confront them. “Say it to my face, loDHom!” She snarled.

The two troopers paused out of shock, and then third one, who had been in front of her, turned around and raised his weapon. Lanna turned around and knocked the third storm trooper across the jaw with her hands clenched together, sending him sprawling backwards. She darted for his gun and spun on her heel, finding the trigger and putting two blaster bolts in the other two soldiers before they could recover from their surprise and fumble their guns into their hands.

Her angry gaze then came to rest upon Governor Tarvik and his cloaked companion beside him. The two turned around slowly and Lanna steadied the gun in her hands, panting through clenched teeth. For an impassioned moment she wanted, more than anything, to put a blaster bolt through the man’s forehead, but that would solve nothing. Hostages would be more valuable in negotiating an escape. She raised the barrel of the weapon a bit, “get your hands up.”

Tarvik shook his head, “I do suggest you put that down before you hurt someone, my dear.”

“I said get your hands up.”

Tarvik and the cloaked figure reluctantly obeyed, their hands reaching away from their sides and rising into the air. The shrouded man’s hands went toward the head of his cloak, however, pulling back the sheath to reveal his haunting amber eyes, patched black fur and bleached white hair. A grim smile crossed his face and his pointed feline ears folded themselves back. “Good evening, milady,” he bowed slightly and took a step forward.

She raised an eyebrow at his strangely polite greeting, but tightened her grip on the rifle as he took a step, “Back up.”

The Sith Lord responded with another step toward her.

The fur on the back of Lanna’s neck bristled, but she stood her ground.

Korriban’s tail swished slightly and he lunged at her, his hand reaching forward for the gun. Lanna’s finger squeezed down on the trigger and a red bolt exploded from the barrel—one w which should have blasted through the man’s hand and into his face. She could smell the scent of something burning and expected her assailant to drop to the floor. Instead, he froze, and after a moment withdrew his hand, closing it into a fist. He glanced at her, the shadows of his grim smile returning and he opened his hand, allowing a small waft of smoke to rise from his palm. He blew at it, the waft quickly retreating and fading into the air.

Lanna jumped back and immediately looked over the weapon, trying to figure out how to put it on a higher setting. She spotted something which she suspected might let her turn up the gun’s power, but a sudden turning of her stomach made her lose her concentration. She gasped and managed to look up at Korriban standing over her, his hand held out in a strange gesture.

Governor Tarvik stepped up and stood behind his shoulder, “Now, if you’re quite finished, we will have a few questions to ask of you."

Lanna gulped in a breath, "You wont get anything out of me you spineless son of a petáq."

"We shall see about that." Korriban said, waving his other hand at a nearby door to open it. It obeyed with a metallic roar and the Sith Lord took Lanna by the hand in an almost cordial fashion, leading her inside. “Do not worry, my dear,” he assured her, “you will be back with your friends soon enough . . .”

Chapter 14
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