Hyruu'lia, Planet Hyruul Apil 19, 2355 Mid-afternoon In the modern galactic society, few will dispute that powerful energies exist in the universe which the average sentient being cannot comprehend. The exact nature of those energies, on the other hand, is intensely debated, especially by those groups who attempt to understand, decipher, and manipulate them. Some hold that the energy field is dualistic or pluralistic in form, with aspects of Light and Dark, Order and Chaos. Others hold that the field simply is, and that the paths of good or evil are determined only by the individual who taps the power. No one knows which belief is more accurate. Throughout the galaxy the power has many names, many applications. One person, a twenty-year-old young woman named Rianna Santova, knew it as the Force, or more specifically, the Dark Side of the Force. On this particular day, she was touching the Dark Side through a basic meditation exercise, using it to expand her senses beyond the seen world, pushing her awareness outward from the Quiet Room and into the world beyond.. Several people shuddered as they fell under the scrutiny of her mind's eye, without knowing or understanding why.. In ancient days, while Alexander the Great had his brief spark of glory on Earth and the Salusians took their first, tenative steps into the orbits of their homeworld, the mighty Santovasku Empire had ruled over most of the worlds of the Outer Rim and beyond for thousands of years. This was the Golden Age of the Jedi, and likewise the Golden Age of their counterparts, the Sith. The Empire finally collapsed when its Princess rebelled against her father, bringing the ruling planet of Coruscant to ruin, dropping the Galaxy into a dark age. That Princess had survived, however, and in recent times Kahm Santova had borne a child, who today sought to refine the skills her mother had taught since her infancy, as she had been taught by the infamous Darth Vader himself. The Dark Side gave her the power to see the unseen, to sense feelings incomprehensible to those who did not touch the Force. It gave her knowledge for defense, strength for attack, fear in the enemy's heart... the decisive edge which meant the difference between victory and defeat. Theoretically, anyway. Although Kahm had taught her all she knew, all she could, Rianna knew her own control over the Dark Side, even over herself, was still uncertain. That was one of the reasons she spent most of her afternoons here, in the Royal Palace's Quiet Room, meditating through the Dark Side, seeking the balance she needed... a balance without which she might succumb to the devouring, chaotic nature of the Dark Side. It also gave her an excuse to daydream, to plan for the future, when she would walk free among the stars... like her father... Around her seat in the Quiet Room, Rianna sensed several Hyelians passing by, each on their own errands, most in no particular rush; today, a typically bright and gentle spring morning, was a day to be savored and appreciated. One, however, brushed through her gaze without the tiniest twinge. Rianna sensed the urgency in this one, the anticipation, a touch of fear, a greater measure of mischief than seemed healthy. Most of all, she sensed this one's inner sense of Purpose- a purpose which, she felt, rather specifically involved her. She eased herself out of her trance, opening her eyes as the door opened to admit a young-looking woman with long, flowing red hair, cheerful blue eyes, long, expressive elven ears, and a totally inane grin. "Mayl," she said softly, nodding in greeting. "Rianna!" the elf half-whispered, not quite running running across the room to her friend. She lifted her gaze as the dark-haired, horned woman stood to her full height; Mayl Popp'fl stood nearly a full head taller than most other females of her race, but Rianna stood half a head and more taller than that.. "Rianna, c'mon!" she urged, pulling on the Santovasku woman's sleeve. "We're outta here!" "Calm down, Mayl," Rianna replied, smiling in spite of herself and holding her ground as the Hyelian tugged at her arm. "I was just doing some of my Sith control exercises, I should only be another few minutes in here before I can--" "No, nonononono," the other grinned, waving her hands in an incoherent effort to explain. "I don't mean outta -here-... I mean, -outta- here!" she finished, swooping her hands upward with a flourish. Rianna's smile faded, and she fixed Mayl with a suspicious stare as she asked in measured tones, "What do you mean... 'outta here?' " "I mean -gone!-" Mayl seemed about to burst with excitement- a telltale sign of Yet Another Mayl scheme, ill-considered and poorly-planned... and this one, Rianna suspected, would likely top them all. "Away! Zing! History! Just like-- ...um, that old Earth movie, can't remember, starts with a 'G' ... never mind." Mayl grabbed her by the arms, looking directly into her skeptical brown eyes. "Ri ... tonight, we are -off- this little chunk of rock! We'll show 'em -- we'll show 'em all!" I have, Rianna quietly decided as Mayl pulled her out into the corridor, a -very- bad feeling about this. VARIOUS LUNATICS PRESENT A tale of Undocumented Features PRIVATEER: ONE FINE MESS starring Rianna Santova Mayl Popp'fl Kris 'Redneck' Overstreet screenplay by J. Conrad Spade, Martin Rose, and Lawrence Mann Benign neglect by Benjamin Hutchins and MegaZone with enormous thanks to Jojii Manabe, the creators of The Legend of Zelda, Wing Commander: Privateer, George Lucas, H. Beam Piper, JMS, and Lois McMaster Bujold * * * * * Hyeruul Royal Spaceport Not that much later "C'mon! Not much farther!" "Uh... Mayl," Rianna said, as the cold sensation in her guts grew more intense with each step, "tell me something: how did you manage to pay for this without alerting your parents?" Mayl stopped for a moment, suddenly unable to look Rianna in the eyes. "Well, I did have some money saved up..." Rianna stared coolly at Mayl. "I know very well you can't have had more than a tiny little bit saved up." Mayl, for all her virtues, simply could not resist an impulse to buy something she liked. "Where's you get the money?" "Well... you know that little trust fund your dad sent you?" The churning in Rianna's stomach abruptly contracted into a cold, tight knot. She'd given Mayl the passwords to access her accounts, but they were only to be used in a dire emergency... "If you say what I think you're about to say..." "I kinda spent it." Mayl grew nervous as she watched Rianna's face slowly darken; when the taller woman's voice returned, it came low and full of tightly controlled menace. "...This had better be a good ship, Mayl... for your sake." "You'll like it! I swear!" Mayl reassured her angry friend, smiling with slightly less confidence than before. "Here we go! Right over here!" Rianna followed the elf into the hangar and watched as she skipped over to one of the slips. When she saw the hulk awaiting inside, her heart plummeted lower than the deepest Underworld cavern. The ship sitting in front of them was a Taurus light freighter, a product of an Earth-based manufacturer, ostensibly named for its strength and power. However, most experienced spacers knew it by another name: Tarsus, or Big Toe, as in 'handles like one.' The ship had one, and only one advantage- it was extremely cheap... but you got what you paid for, and usually less. Any pilot or independent captain with an ounce of self-respect avoided the monstrosity like the Denebian Plague. This ship in particular was a truly miserable example of the species, with minimal-strength, cracked and pitted grey armor plate, equally understated shield emitters, and a lonely single-barrel laser turret towards the aft. The ship practically had a sign reading PLEASE HIJACK. Mayl had just demonstrated her complete lack of knowledge in the area of starships. "You. Bought. A *Tarsus*." was all Rianna could think to say to the clueless redhead. "You spent all our money... on a TARSUS..." "Um... not exactly..." Mayl murmured. "What do you *mean*, 'not exactly?" Rianna growled. "Well... our money wasn't enough for more than a down payment..." Mayl said. "I kinda hadda take out a loan..." "A... loan..." Rianna glowered at the redhead. Rianna had been taught since the first time she'd held money in her hand to avoid borrowing whenever possible, and pay off debts in full. The very idea of being in debt disturbed her. "You... took out a loan... for THIS??" she hissed, waving an angry hand towards the Tarsus. Mayl's ears twitched nervously. "Um, Ri... are you gonna hurt me now?" Before Rianna could tell Mayl in no uncertain terms just what she intended to do to her, a short, overweight human approached them. The slimy air he seemed to exude was only accentuated by his greasy black hair and pencil-thin mustache. Rianna's guard went up at first sight. "Ah, hello," he said with a grin that failed completely to hide his deceit. "You must be this young lady's partner." "Um, for the moment," Rianna answered. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said, bowing deeply. "I am known in certain circles as Ploovo Two-For-One. I am renowned for aiding enterprising young businesspeople gain their first start in the dangerous world of interstellar commerce. Your friend was kind enough to show me a picture of the two of you and I couldn't help but feel compelled to be of assistance." Rianna knew blackmailing slime when she saw it. "Mayl, please tell me you didn't sign anything." "Um... well, yeah... and I kinda signed your name too." For a moment, Rianna's screech of outrage lodged in her throat, unable to escape. When it did, it was only slightly moderated. "YOU *WHAT*?!?" "I didn't think you'd want to worry about it!" "YOU... COMPLETE... AND... *TOTAL*..." "Ahem, excuse me, ladies-" "*WHAT?!?*" Rianna roared at him, giving Mayl a brief respite from the lashing she so richly deserved. "Well, you might have noticed the clause in Subparagraph 17, line four... failure to make the first payment on the loan results in a state of indentured servitude by contract for a period of seven years." Mayl went pale. "Um... isn't that illegal?" "Not in Hutt space, which is where you ladies would be headed." Rianna's already grim expression now became truly horrible. "Just try it, little man," she growled, and her hand came to rest on her lightsaber. The threat rolled right past Ploovo. "Ah ah ah," he said, wagging his finger in warning at them, "Subparagraph 19 specifically calls for a death-mark on your head should I die by your hand!" ".....NNGRRRRRRRAAAHHHH!!" Rianna screamed, frustration welling up in her with no place to go. She was trapped. Things could not get more fucked up if they tried. "Um, looks like I by'phed it again, Ri," Mayl said timidly. Rianna whirled on her and growled. "To say you'd biffed it would not begin to describe what you just did, you *stupid* *bitch*." "But... but... aw, Rianna, all I wanted was for us to have our dream... get off this backwater and see the galaxy... just you and me, aw RIIIIII....." Mayl's tearing eyes met a glare that might have melted lead. Mayl imagined she saw a dark aura encircling the Sith woman... or maybe it was the tears... "Ah, well, ladies," Ploovo said, deciding to vacate the area. "It's wonderful doing business with you. Remember, first payment is due in two weeks- and remember the late penalty!" "...HOW MUCH is the first payment?" Rianna snarled. "Um... CR20,000 Salusian," Ploovo said, "with four monthly payments of the same thereafter." Enough to have bought a brand-new YT-1700 Corellian stock freighter... three times as much as any Tarsus was worth. When neither woman said anything in response, Ploovo decided to depart while he could.Rianna just stared after him, beside herself with helpless rage. Somewhere in the core of her being, a crying and helpless child screamed out for POWER. And the Dark Side answered. Suddenly, the terrible rage on Rianna's face was replaced by an equally terrible calm. Rianna looked directly into Mayl's eyes, and the elf shrank from the gaze, which if anything seemed angrier than before. "Get your things. We're leaving immediately," Rianna barked. Glee at the prospect of adventure overwhelmed Mayl's fear. "YAAA-urk!" she almost cheered, but was cut off by the painful, invisible chokehold which suddenly enclosed her throat. Rianna's voice whispered in her ear like a cold midnight breeze; "And while we're in transit you will not speak to me unless we are in mortal danger, understand?" Frightened, Mayl remained silent. Fenris was not exactly what one might call a vacation spot, unless of course your idea of a vacation included associating with a hostile environment (the planet had a 70-day rotation, with scorching and freezing temperatures attained at the peaks of day and night), hostile indigenous life (notably the sea dragons known as "Jormungand's Brood"), and people who'd just as soon shoot you as talk to you. And even then, you would probably get more for your money's worth by going someplace like Tatooine. The colony on Fenris had been founded on a dilithium mine, during the advent of the Cochrane warp drive, one of dozens of boom towns on improbable worlds during the great dilithium rush. The quick exhaustion of the main dilithium vein, plus the discovery of how to manufacture synthetic dilithium, ended the short boom, and now the only attraction this world held to entrepeneurs was the meager profit to be had from the sale of the blubber of the sea dragons, which could be refined very cheaply into various grades of oil. The combination of a small port, a populace desperate for money, and virtual anonymity throughout the rest of the disintegrating United Galactica made Fenris an ideal candidate for a Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy, and true to form it had become such, a place for the desperate, the amoral, and the greedy. In a few places, signs of upstanding civilization could be found... but not often. Possibly the most uncivilized place in the colony lay just off the main concourse of the spaceport- a nameless half-lit bar, chill or warm with the surrounding bedrock (Fenris City being entirely underground). Here avarice and fear ran side by side; only the desperate, the foolish, or the completely lost wandered into this place, and fewer left it than entered. The place was steeped in centuries of the Dark Side. It made Rianna Santova feel at home, despite never having set foot in a place like this until just recently. She sat against the wall in her booth, drink in hand, glowering at nothing in particular, just feeling the black energy of the Force flowing around her, blending with her, giving her the mental armor she desperately needed. A quiet but insistent voice deep within her protested her being in a place like this. It was summarily told by the rest of her- the angry, hurt part of her- to shut the fuck up. This was her future, whether she liked it or not. An offensive sound invaded her ears, renewing her anger and lending it strength. The elf was speaking.. "C'mon, Ri, we spent a whole week in hyper just getting here, don't tell me you're still--" "Didn't I tell you not to talk to me?" Rianna growled, not even looking at the redheaded fool sitting next to her. She briefly entertained the thought of killing the bitch- for the fifty-second time that morning- and rejected it; it would only make an already fucked-up situation even more complicated.. The stupid woman couldn't even pay her own way- she'd put all her ruupis, and most of Rianna's, into buying that accursed ship, and if it hadn't been for the small amount left in Rianna's accounts, neither of them would have gotten as far as low orbit over Hyeruul. "But we only have one more week," the whining airhead protested. "And then we'll get taken to Nal Hutta and sold as dancing girls or something! Oh, I can just see myself chained to one of those slimy beasts, forced to wear almost nothing, leered at by--" "Mayl, if you do not shut up, right now," Rianna's eyes swiveled and directed a few thousand icy daggers at the redhead. "I am going to cut your tongue out, and send it to your family. Are we clear?" Her hand closed loosely around the lightsaber strapped to her belt; she meant every word of it right now. The Hyelian recognized this, and shrank back into silence. Rianna released her grip on her lightsaber and returned to her brooding. Damn the stupid little bitch. Damn her into all the Hells to burn for a thousand eternities. If it weren't for her total stupidity, none of this would have happened. The quiet, insistent part of her mentioned that Mayl was not completely to blame for the troubles, and that she was trying her best to help. Rianna promptly told that part of her to shut the fuck up. From another angle, movement. Rianna adjusted her attention to see who was drifting toward them... a human male, on the short side, graying hair and a look in his eyes which Rianna might have distrusted elsewhere. "Pardon me," the man remarked. "I couldn't help overhearing your companion's discussion of your... difficulties, young lady." Rianna didn't particularly like his tone. "What makes you think we're having any problems, Mister, uh..." "Sandoval," the man replied. "Ernesto Sandoval. And problems or no, you look like a girl who's hungry for work." "I suppose I might be looking for work," Rianna remarked. The man's voice reminded her of a weasel. In another time and place Rianna might have told the slime to buzz off, but now... now she didn't really give a shit. "I'm listening." "I'm in need of a courier," Sandoval began, sitting down across from the two women. "One of my clients on the CFA New Orleans requires delivery of an oils shipment. Strictly legit." "I've heard that song before," Rianna still had the presence of mind to say, her intellect having not abandoned her totally. "What's the catch?" Sandoval's mouth seemed to quirk upward ever so slightly. "You're very quick. I admire that. My client is also expecting a rather special delivery, an artifact I recovered from a dig recently. I'd like you to deliver it to him as well." Reaching into a satchel, he produced a metal box about the size of a standard tissue holder, and opened the lid. Inside, protected by a thick shell of padding, lay a large ovoid object, apparently made out of obsidian or onyx, with silvery trim. Giving them only a brief look (and noting the way the redhead's eyes lit up), Sandoval closed the box lid. "Once delivered, my client plans to sell it for a considerable sum. You would receive a commission on the sale for delivering it safely to him- say, five percent," he finished with a grin. "If this is as valuable as you say it is," Rianna asked, folding her arms, "why are you asking a stranger in a bar to ship it?" "I have every reason to believe," Sandoval said after a moment, "that you are a more trustworthy pilot than those I know here. And there are some who would like to get this artifact; it would be better if they didn't know where it was." "So in other words, this thing is hot and you need to distance yourselves from it." "Perhaps, but you would be well compensated for your time and trouble. And I couldn't help but notice that lightsaber of yours; I'm sure you can handle any trouble that might come up. The run itself pays twenty thousand SalCred," Sandoval again noted the Hyelian's sparkling eyes. "And as I said, you can expect a percentage from the sale of the artifact. At the very least, you could expect Cr250,000." "Oo! That's enough to pay off Mr. Ploovo..." Mayl trailed off as she felt Rianna's glare boring into her again. Damn bubblehead talks too much, Rianna thought to herself. "The way I see it," Sandoval went on, not missing that exchange at all. "We could all be quite helpful to each other. You'd be helping my client obtain something which is very valuable to him, and my client would be helping you with whatever your own problems might be. I assure you, miss, you have nothing to lose. How about it?" Last week, and a lifetime ago, Rianna might have told this piece of slime to buzz off. This deal sounded way too good to be true, or at least trouble-free. That was then; this was now. Rianna had nothing to lose, or so she figured... and any chance at avoiding a life on the run, or in slavery on Nal Hutta, was better than none at all. "I *could* use the money. ... All right, I suppose you have yourself a pilot, Mr. Sandoval." "Excellent," Sandoval replied, looking ever so slightly relieved. "I'll arrange for the oil shipment to be delivered to your ship. My client will be waiting for you at the New Orleans spacedock. Don't worry, he'll know who to look for." "All right," Rianna said, "though I get the feeling I'll wind up regretting this." "Go with God, my suspicious friends," Sandoval smiled a weasel's smile. He pushed the box across the table, along with a shipping disk containing the manifest data, shook hands, then departed. Deep down, that insistent small voice suspected that this might have been an error. Yet again the rest of her ignored it. What other choice was there, she thought? After all, she kept repeating to herself, it can't possibly get any fucking worse. Sandoval walked out of the Monster Hunters' Union office, having made all the arrangements for the cover on the artifact's transport. Fifty tons of monster blubber, unrefined, in containers for transport to agents at the Confederate Freespacer Alliance branch office on the CFA New Orleans, payment on delivery. And, unmentioned on the official manifest, one artifact from the mines beneath the city. Mr. Lynch's men had been chipping away at the last remnants of the dilithium mines beneath Fenris City, using their gem-quality dilithium mining company as a cover for Lynch's less legal affairs, when the workers had uncovered a secret chamber of some sort within the living rock. Inside, the men found a handful of artifacts from some ancient civilization or other- Sandoval didn't know or care about the details- including The Egg, which according to the scientist Lynch had bought off was an incredibly powerful and valuable item, in the right hands. Unfortunately, the scientist had leaked the find, and Lynch had been forced to liquidate him... and shortly thereafter, the chamber had been collapsed. With the workers inside. Anyone who uncovered the site again would find a bunch of ambitious grave-robbers who'd gotten unlucky, plus a few crushed artifacts of minimal importance. They would find no hint that the respected businessman Roman Lynch had had anything to do with it. Now, between Lynch and his rivals, Sandoval was the only member of the Lynch family still alive on the planet. This wasn't reason to be lonely so much as it was reason to be deathly terrified. He'd have to justify his continued employment to Mr. Lynch, while keeping one step ahead of the other families' goons, until things cooled off on Fenris long enough to recruit new hands and resume Lynch's normal trade, drug-running. The hair on the back of Sandoval's neck stood up as he passed a dark alleyway. Pausing, he looked down the alley and saw a cloaked woman, brilliant blonde hair pouring into the lowered hood of her robes. Her eyes met his, and she smiled a cool, arrogant smile. <> she husked, and Sandoval found his feet carrying him towards her. Why shouldn't he go near her? She was very pretty, and God knew he hadn't had any in a while. <> she said, and he stared blankly into her grey eyes, seeing nothing aside from their haunting loveliness. <> she asked. "A couple of dumb girls," Sandoval admitted cheerily. "They needed a wad of money bad enough that they didn't ask questions. They're flying the Tarsus berthed in Bay 14." The woman smiled, saying, "Thank you. Let me show you my gratitude." Sandoval smiled gleefully, awaiting the surprise. Sandoval felt a pressure around his throat. His larynx seemed to be crushing itself; his feet no longer touched the ground, but nothing held him up. The alley began to spin around him, and the light dimmed even further. His last coherent thought was; sure enough, he'd been surprised. The last thing he heard, though, was the woman's cold, chuckling voice, saying, "How like a man, simple minded and weak to the core." Finally, Sandoval's neck snapped, and his lifeless body fell dead to the streets of Fenris. The woman touched a finger to her lips and laid it upon his forehead, and then she faded into the shadows, laughing as she vanished from sight. Rod Silverton checked his tactical display for the fifteenth time, grateful that this time the Godforsaken R-41 Starchaser was in 100% working order. On too many missions, something would die on startup and he'd have to fly half-blind, mute, or with half his weaponry disabled. Behind him, eleven more Starchasers flew in a loose and sloppy formation. Rod grimaced at the totally unprofessional laziness in the fighters he led; if his employers would only give him free reign to train and cull as he wished, the fighter squadron might be able to take on something besides the totally helpless prey it pursued at the moment. Ahead of him, the old Tarsus freighter his superiors had ordered disabled chugged slowly away from the night side of Fenris, slowly aligning its trajectory for a hyperspace jump to Salusia. His employers knew the destination, knew the pilots, and had ordered Rod to take the ship intact, without a fight if at all possible. And then, once the small freighter well behind them docked and relieved the occupants of one little item, they were ordered to blow the ship to Kingdom Come. "Top to Coral Flight," Rod said into his headset, "move into attack position. Lock lasers onto target and await my signal." Switching to hailing channels, he said, "Tarsus number R18-NAL, this is Coral Flight. Cut engines and prepare to be boarded. If you do not cut engines you will be disabled and boarded. You have ten seconds to comply." A very irritated feminine voice replied, "May I ask _why?_" "No. Five seconds," Rod replied, fixing his HUD on the Tarsus' engine compartment. A second later, the Tarsus charged its shields and armed its lone laser turret. The hell with a countdown, Rod thought, and he switched back to the command channel. "Coral Flight, fire by wings. Target engines -only.- If that ship gets blown up before I say so, I'll take it out of your asses." In four groups of three, the Starchasers surged forward, easily overtaking the crawling Tarsus and throwing round after round of laser fire into its stern. The Tarsus' gun fired frantically, trying to find one of the ancient fighters. The flights wheeled, evading collision at the last second, gained distance, and repeated the attack run, driving bolt after bolt into the old freighter. As Rod dove down onto the Tarsus, blasting away, one of his wingmen's ships burst into a fireball; the Tarsus' gunner had apparently found his or her aim. A second Starchaser reported total weapons systems failure, and with a groan Rod ordered him back to base. Dammit, he thought as he wheeled away for a third pass, how do the bosses expect us to perform to expectations with such crappy equipment? As Rod pulled into his third attack run, he saw the aft shields on the Tarsus finally flicker, and one Starchaser got three shots in on the hull directly above the main thrust vents. The Tarsus slowed, but still plodded on, and Rod adjusted his aim and fired again. The Tarsus rocked violently as the last salvo of lasers slammed into the rear quarter. Mayl shrieked as a power box on the starboard wall exploded, spraying sparks and burned wires across the consoles. As the lights flickered and dimmed, the surviving instruments reported the rather bad situation: rear shields down, rear armor compromised, sublight engines damaged. One more good hit... Mayl kept firing the laser cannon, trying to gain a fix on another of the nasty fighters. The problem was, the stupid fighters kept avoiding her shots! As she adjusted her aim yet again, the gun suddenly quit firing, and another red light joined the horde on the panels. "Ri, the gun's out!!" she cried, searching frantically for an override switch or something which would give her fire control again. There wasn't one. "crap... fucking port maneuver jet's gone!" Rianna growled, mostly to herself, fighting the controls to make this infernal ship -- anything which could be outclassed by a frigging R-41 Starchaser qualified as infernal -- actually do something useful. The ship refused to obey, and another round of laser blasts struck the engines, shaking Rianna in her chair. The damage display on the engines went to red. one more hit... "No," Rianna growled, and Mayl suddenly wanted to put distance between herself and the horned woman with the angry- were they glowing?- eyes. <> Rod watched with satisfaction as yet another stream of laser fire flew towards the freighter. His smug attitude crumbled as his shots, rather than striking home, bounced off into empty space- as if the ship had reflective shields. That was ridiculous- reflective shields required multiples of the power simple absorption shields took- but for whatever reason, the shots were bouncing off. Off of NOTHING. Right, Rod grumbled to himself, pulling out of his attack run. Switching to missiles and hoping his launcher wouldn't jam like it had the last two times he'd tried this, he armed both concussion missiles. I don't care if I do blow the bitch up, Rod thought, I am taking that damn freighter out! Swinging around for another pass, he targeted the freighter and waited for the lock to take hold. The HUD blinked yellow, scanning the ship ahead for perfect lock... And the Tarsus' sublight engines died, then surged, and the ship streaked away, vanishing into nothingness. Crap, Rod thought, the bosses are not gonna be happy with me. Switching to a secured channel, he said, "Top to Black Queen. Target has escaped, repeat target has escaped, mission scrub. Orders?" "Return to base," a thin voice on the other end hissed. "We suspected something of this sort might happen, but it was worth the effort. We shall simply have to rely on our agents currently within the Freespacer Home Fleet." "Roger that, Black Queen, Top out." Switching back to the command channel, he grumbled, "Coral Flight, mission scrubbed, form up and return to base." Damn, he thought ashamedly, we lost a man for nothing. And after this, the odds of getting any new equipment are nil. What's a pro supposed to do? "Are we away?" The ragged voice matched its owner, face bloodlessly pale, sweat glistening. Mayl had no reply, still too rattled to speak. "...are we away..." Rianna echoed, even weaker than before. Her leaden eyes met the smeared blue-white unreality of hyperspace with a vacant glaze; the hyperdrive's annoying vibration, one of her outspoken pet peeves since the day they'd left Hyeruul, no longer seemed to disturb her in the least. "Y-yeah..." Mayl finally found her voice. "Yeah, Ri... we're... we're away." "Good," Rianna mumbled. Her eyes slowly rolled back in her head, and suddenly she fell forward onto the console, sliding down to hit the deck with a thud. "RIANNA!" Mayl cried, bounding out of her own chair to kneel over her friend. She was still alive, thank Tz'ldah, but out cold. Mayl thought. She shivered as she remembered the dark power crawling around her, protecting the ship from harm. She knelt silently for a long time, wondering what to do next. Finally it occurred to her that maybe she should try to make Rianna more comfortable. She picked Rianna up and, with some difficulty, carried her back into the living quarters and tucked her in in the lower bunk. With Rianna sound asleep in bed, Mayl went back to the cockpit and surveyed the mess. Burned-out control panels outnumbered working ones, thanks in part to the blown-out power junction. Checking the damage control readouts, Mayl learned that not only was the sublight drive half-fried, so were the maneuvering jets, the aft shield generatiors, and just about everything else in the aft quarter of the ship.. That would cost a pretty ruupi to fix... a ruupi they might not have... Unable to think of anything else to do, Mayl sagged back down into her chair and stared listlessly out at hyperspace, elbows resting on the charred edge of the console, ears drooping disconsolately. Bh'ots, she thought, this was supposed to be easy...... Mayl paused as she reached the deck of Hangar Bay 4, CFA New Orleans CFA-919, looking around her new environs. Taking a deep breath, she stretched her long limbs, pushing up onto her tiptoes, knitting her fingers and grunting with a stifled yawn as many of the joints in her body made noises that would have been unwelcome back home. With that done, she let her arms drop back to her sides while her breath escaped in a long sigh, expressing her satisfaction far more succinctly than any words. "Hey, Ri--" she began, turning around to see if her companion was leaving the ship yet. A nearly tangible memory of the unseen hand of the Dark Side strangling the breath from her silenced her almost immediately. "Oh, yeah," she muttered, "I forgot. You're not talking to me." She heaved another, far less satisfied sigh as she paced away from the Tarsus, trying to brush the wrinkles out of her flight suit as she made her way toward the bow and the exit corridor beyond. The remainder of the flight, once Rianna had recovered, had been dominated by an alternately depressing and oppressive silence, as the two women worked almost wordlessly to clean up the interior of the cabin and get some of the consoles operational. That, at least, had kept them too busy to mope about their situation en route. Now, without the constant tension of keeping the ship intact, Mayl was certain she'd end up subjected to another of her friend's seemingly endless supply of angry glares. "Noyyj'tat," Mayl hissed to herself, her frustration turning from depression to anger as she bent down to give a pull at the legs of her loose-fitting coveralls. "If it isn't one thing, it's everything," she continued, straightening up to give a tug at the tails of her bright blue headband. No further epithets escaped her as she pulled at her cuffs, finally getting a few annoying folds out of her sleeves. A shake of her head sent a brief wave through her long hair, and, reasonably satisfied that her appearance wouldn't send any passersby screaming in terror, she turned the corner and started her way up to the main deck. Her pace slowed, and then she stopped entirely, finally taking in the sight. She was aware that the CFA New Orleans was a truly immense ship, somewhere on the order of the late WDF Wayward Son. As such, she was expecting to be greeted with a large and busy corridor, almost large enough to give the illusion of being out-of-doors, teeming hoardes of people milling here and there, and, further inside, a busy commerce center. What she wasn't expecting was to find herself almost directly next to a boothload of brand-new clothing, complete with a pushy salesman doing his best to convince four or five browsers that his wares were exactly what they needed, and a tremendous bargain to boot. Her head turned a slow arc as a smile spread across her face. The sterile deckways she'd anticipated had turned out instead to be an enormous bazaar, stretching as far as this adjoining corridor would reach. Every piece of open wall was covered in some way by a merchant, either outside in a ramshackle hand-constructed booth, or a bright, colorful doorway with big lettering and a bell that jingled happily to announce you. In its own way, it reminded her of home. She remembered sneaking out of the palace complex numerous times in a special non-regal outfit she'd assembled just for that purpose, taking a small sack of ruupis with her just in case something special caught her eye. One such outing gave her the rumor and half-made map that eventually led her to one of her world's great lost treasures, the legendary 'Master' Sword of the first Lyn'k ... and yet another was how she first met Rianna, only a small child at the time... Mayl shook her head to push the reminiscence from her mind, just in time to hear the telltale clank of Rianna's boots on the gangway of their Tarsus. She ventured out into the thinning crowd and made her way up the corridor, hoping to lose her worries in a quick bout of browsing before she had to face her friend again, if only to deliver their cargo and get on with the task of paying off Mr. Ploovo. She was only a few steps onto the lower deck proper when she noticed a group of six rough-looking men, each wearing light blast armor, each carrying a blaster pistol in his hand, each scanning idly through the crowd as it moved clear of them. She stopped, watching as one of them noticed her, looked down at a slip of paper in his hand -- probably a photograph, she reasoned -- and then barked something at the other five, pointing at her. They all turned to look straight at her, and fanned out to form a wall, advancing in her direction. Only the group's leader (she guessed) had his weapon aimed at her, and his unshaven face bore a smile she didn't find pleasant at all. Swallowing, she started backing away, and far too soon found herself leaning against someone's booth. "Now, girlie," the lead goon said in a thin, menacing voice, "you're gonna come with us, an' you're gonna come real quiet-like, ya get me?" Mayl wondered why she hadn't bothered to put on her sword before leaving the ship, and then remembered she'd've had to go past Rianna to get it. "Um," she stalled, wishing she didn't sound so scared as her hands groped around on the table behind her, "wh-where would you, um, I mean, where are we--" "Don't ask questions, girlie," he replied in that same voice. "You'll find out when we get there. Now do ya come nice, or do we hafta make it tough for ya?" "Well ... I suppose you can take ... THIS!" With a quick swing, Mayl threw the second-heaviest object she could find and grasp on the table -- the hardcover, full-length novelization of _Butcher_, the film drama based on one director's version of the events leading to, including and following the infamous Musashi incident, complete with liner notes, director's commentary and a large "50% OFF" sticker. The lead goon quickly identified himself as an apt literary critic as he fired on the incoming tome, his well-placed shot reducing it to leaflets and confetti. He coughed as the litter smattered over his face, and then staggered backward with a yelp as an author's-uncut edition of _The Stand_ slammed hard into his chest, nearly knocking him off his feet. "YOWP!" Mayl shrieked as she dove to the side, avoiding the fire of the rest of the goon squad as they brought their blasters to bear on the unfortunate bookseller's wares, filling the air with tufts of paper. "HEEEEELLLLLP!" she elaborated as she broke into a full run, and within moments all seven of them were dashing down the corridor, making no small mess and an equal amount of noise. Rianna's head snapped up at the first sound of blaster fire. "Oh, hell," she mumbled, knocking away the change the hangar chief was trying to hand her from the landing fees and refueling deposit. Lightsaber in hand, she ran from the hangar, plunging into the crowds in Mayl's wake. Stupid, stupid bitch, she thought, can't she go five minutes by herself without getting into trouble? Redneck sat in one of the several cafe booths in the galaxy's largest flea market, the CFA New Orleans, hiding from the masses of paperwork lurking on his desk. Today, instead of either the CFMF duty uniform or the dress uniform he used as Vice Admiral commanding, or the bomber jacket he wore when taking command of a starfighter squadron, he wore the blue windbreaker, light shirt and jeans he preferred when about to go on a smuggling run or on a commando operation. Sitting across from him at the table were two Centauri smugglers, who like him were smuggling RebelTech and ExoSalusia weapons to Narn, where the natives were rebelling against the colonial rule of the Centauri Empire. The younger-looking of the two, Londo Mollari, was the owner of their ship, whereas the somewhat older, stockier Centauri, whose name Kris had already forgotten, had hired on as a pilot in exchange for transportation. It was this other man who attracted Kris' attention. Even across the table, Kris smelled a mixture of sweat and hair starch. He watched as a tiny bit of the headdress came loose and fell limp to his shoulders. The face beneath the bad hairstyle looked somewhat familiar, and mentally Kris added wire-frame spectacles to it. The result was a face instantly recognizable on hundreds of worlds, provided one had a history book or a wanted poster to compare it to. Kris ignored the resemblance. If he decided to recognize the "Centauri" sweating in front of him, he'd have to make some choices he really didn't want to make. He turned his attention back to Mollari, a wanted criminal back on Centauri Prime and any number of other places. "I still don't see why you won't join, Londo. The advantages of Freespacer citizenship are obvious. Protection, freedom, allies..." "I am sorry, Admiral," Londo smiled, "but I look at your proposal, and all I see is a prison. A very comfortable prison, with few rules and no guard, but a prison nontheless." "I'm sorry you see it that way," Kris replied. "We could certainly use you, and you could do a lot worse than give us a shot." "That is what it comes down to in the end, isn't it?" Londo said. "People using each other to get what they want? I left Centauri Prime to get away from that sort of thinking." "That's a cynic's view of life," Kris said. "But all too accurate," Londo said. "I have much enjoyed this conversation, Admiral, but I do have a cargo to deliver, and time is a fleeting thing... for most of us, anyway," he said, quirking an eye at the effectively-immortal Redneck. "For all of us," Kris replied. "Good luck, Londo. Don't catch any bugs," he added, shaking the Centauri's hand warmly as he uttered the old Klingon smuggler's good-luck phrase. As the other "Centauri" stood to leave, he added, "Oh, and by the way..." The stocky man stood absolutely still. "Your friend here has a remarkable face," Kris smiled. "Reminds me... of absolutely nobody at all." The man relaxed and said, smiling, "Enjoy your lemon twist, Admiral." For two seconds, Kris scrambled for the reference. When he found it, he chuckled, then giggled, and struggled not to go into convulsions. Londo looked at him in obvious confusion. "What is this about a 'lemon twist?'" he asked his companion as they paid their bill. "I do not understand." "When you're older, Londo," Benjamin Hutchins replied, still smiling. Behind them, Kris finally recovered his composure, still chuckling a bit to himself. All things considered, he thought as he sipped his cola, it looks to be a nice, peaceful day. Nothing to worry about except some angry patrols trying to shoot me down. No bureaucrats, no Condorcets, no angry politicians... ...no red-headed elves running down the corridor screaming for help... Redneck ran that back through his mind and checked it. Red-headed elf?? "HEEEEELP! HEEELLP! Beautiful young woman in danger! HELP!" Yep. Really tall redheaded elf, running past the booth, screaming for help. ZARK ZARK ZARK ZARK! Blaster bolts sped past the booths, as customers and tourists dodged for cover beneath the racks of Bantha throw rugs, CDs, and Harlequin Romance novels (used). Five or six men in blast armor ran past the cafe, blaster rifles firing ahead of them. Redneck sighed to himself. So much for that relaxing day. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a decal and stuck it on the lapel of his windbreaker, the twin wreathed stars for Vice Admiral. Then he slapped a five- mark note on the table and ran into the corridor- WHAM! Kris found himself entangled with a youngish woman, maybe an inch or two taller than him, long black hair tickling his face. A magnificent set of horns poked out from her head, and large brown eyes glared at the clodhopper who had so carelessly gotten into her way. Kris brushed the hair from his eyes and looked back- BBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR..... Bad-vibes out the yang-yang, Kris thought. Whoever this woman is, she's playing with gas. Calming himself, he reached out to the Force- one of the few tricks he'd learned during his years of wandering, before his Jedi Master had refused to teach him any more- he felt a noble spirit, surrounded by a solid aura of darkness. Anger, pain, and a controlled blood lust radiated from the woman, bleeding into Kris and triggering his defenses. Yyyyokay. The woman picked herself off the floor (and Kris) and checked herself. Over on the deck a few paces away lay a lightsaber, deactivated. Kris felt the Force flicker, and the lightsaber leaped into the woman's waiting hand. Kris thought of what might have happened if it had been activated... OUCH. I don't like regrowing limbs, nope nope nope. The young woman growled, "Excuse me," and ran off down the corridor, which was refilling with curious bystanders. Kris stood up and dusted himself off. Terrific, he thought. A redheaded elf being chased by armed thugs and a possible Dark Jedi. On the most populated ship in the entire Confederate Freespacers Alliance Home Fleet. Yessir, he thought as he ran after them, it's going to be a _fun_ day... Rianna rounded the corner into a half-deserted residential block, searching for the slimeballs chasing Mayl. The corridor appeared empty, at least to someone not resonating with the Dark Side. Her instincts led her down the corridor, past several apartments, to a small single apartment, door locked. Inside, she could hear Mayl whimpering and the goons muttering some demand or other. Extending her senses to the limit, she heard... "...just give us the egg, girlie, and we'll be on our way." "Riii-annnnn-aaaa....." Rianna's anger flared to new heights, fueling the darkness. Her lightsaber flashed to life, slicing the door to the apartment open easily. Beyond, the five goons pivoted and swung their blaster rifles towards the hole, firing wildly. Rianna leaped through the bolts untouched, saber flashing and deflecting shots here and there. Somersaulting over the heads of the goons, she placed her body in front of Mayl's. "All right, assholes," she growled, "who wants to be first?" One goon stepped forward, swinging his rifle back on its shoulder strap. From his belt, he produced a beamsaber of his own, a storebought weapon rather than the delicately handcrafted item Rianna used. Igniting his blade, he twirled it gracefully around his body, over and under shoulders, under the leg, behind the back and over the head. Finally, he snapped it into a guard-ready position, smirking at Rianna. Rianna reached through the Force, drawing her shoulder-holstered Bryar holdout blaster into her hand, and before the goon could react she shot him between the eyes. The fancy swordsman fell wordlessly to the carpet. The other gunmen aimed carefully at Rianna and prepared to fire. "STOP!" a voice called from the doorway. The goons all swiveled and fired at the new target- the man Rianna had clobbered by accident in the corridor. The blaster bolts met a red wall of energy and bounced away, as a staff of light about seven feet long appeared in the man's hands. The anticipation Rianna felt from the man vanished, replaced by a careful, controlled calmness; Rianna glimpsed for a moment a Force aura around the man as he advanced on the gunmen. All of which she assimilated as she decapitated the closest goon to her, reminding the surviving goons of their original opponent. As they tried to decide on a target, the man with the beamstaff sliced away one goon's arm while Rianna knocked out another with a left cross to the chin. The lone remaining gunman looked at the Sith Adept, then at the staff-wielding man, and he finally settled on the woman, swinging the rifle towards her. Too late. Two red beams, one from the lightsaber, one from the beamstaff, lanced through his body, and withdrew. The man staggered, turned to run, took one step and fell dead. Relative silence crept back in, filling the jagged spaces left by the fighting, but it was only a moment before the horned woman had deactivated her lightsaber and stalked toward the thug she'd felled with her fist. Said goon happened to be lying next to the whimpering elf, who looked like she was in a bit of pain. "You all right?" the Dark Jedi asked the elf testily. Not giving her time to answer, she reached down and lifted the thug up by his collar, smacking him in the face with her other hand. "Come on, wake up," she growled. "I didn't hit you that hard." The speed and strength of her slaps increased. "Come on, asshole! Who are you and why are you after us?!" "Put him down." The horned woman stopped and fixed a flinty glare on Redneck. "Who the hells are you?" "Kristan Overstreet, Jedi Knight. You can call me Admiral Overstreet." The woman scanned him up and down and didn't look particularly impressed. The power might be there, but definitely not the training, nor even the right skills. "Jedi Knight? Bullshit." "Maybe," Redneck said levelly, beamstaff still shining in his hands, still in battle mode. " Put him down anyway... or else." "This does not concern you, Admiral," she growled. "Leave now." "I said put him down!" She looked at Redneck, then at the thug she was still holding up, seemingly indecisive about who she should throttle first. Glaring at Redneck, she growled "Do you intend to make me?" "RI! LOOK OUT!" the elf cried out, a bit too late as the thug suddenly brought one knee violently upward, catching the brunette in the gut. She staggered backward, her concentration broken for one critical second as the dropped thug regained his balance and whipped out a combat knife, preparing to strike, but before he could act, the beam staff flashed again, and the thug's arm fell to the floor as the rest of him collapsed in a screaming heap which was quickly silenced by a good swift kick to the head by the elf. "...rgh... fuck!" Rianna swore as she shook her head, trying to clear her senses. Glancing around at the fallen bodies, it became obvious that none of them would be able to answer questions anytime soon- and most of them, never again. "Oh hell," she grumbled. "Now how're we gonna find out who they were working for?" "Ever consider maybe handing him over to the authorities?" Overstreet said. "Oh, yeah, sure," Rianna whirled to face him. "And how am I supposed to trust the cops?" "See these stars?" Overstreet pointed to a decal on his jacket. "I -am- the authorities." "Ooo, I am *so* impressed," Rianna quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, I can *see* just how far I can trust you!" "Well, EXCUSE ME FOR BEING ME!" he roared, patience gone. "Owww...." At the sound of Mayl's groan, both Rianna and Redneck turned toward her and asked in stereo: "Are you all right?" "I think I twisted my ankle..." Mayl winced, trying to stand up straight and failing miserably. "owie... this is embarrassing..." "C'mon, Mayl," Rianna said, hooking Mayl's left arm around her shoulders. They had to get out of here before anything *else* happened. "Let's get back to the ship." "Wait," Redneck interjected. "Let me take her to the Lab, it's closer." Rianna glared at him, her eyes narrowing to slits, and the Force welled up from her throat in an angry growl. <> Instead of agreeing with her, as he was supposed to, Overstreet suddenly bristled, glared right back at her and growled, <> A faint red aura danced around him as his eyes bored directly into Rianna's. Rianna pulled back, shocked. This was impossible! How could he resist? "Wow, he can do that funny voice too!" Mayl remarked. "Uh, whuh," Rianna stammered. Her control vanished; she clutched at the remaining shreds of her concentration and tried to pull herself together. "Now listen," Redneck said in a more normal voice. "I don't know who you are, what your business is, or why the hell you had to run into my life. But I think it's blatantly obvious that you could use some help, so if you'll take care of your friend, I'll take a couple of these toughs, and we'll see what Washuu can make of things." Rianna struggled to think. Her resolve had fractured for a critical moment, and now all the little doubts, the quiet little voices, that had plagued her since Fenris echoed in her ears. Her clarity of thought was gone, replaced by a cacaphony of doubt. "uhh... all right, all right," she said at last. Anything if this man would just go away. "-THANK you.-" Overstreet said, relaxing as he bent down and picked up an unconscious tough under each arm. "Follow me. Let me know if I'm walking too fast for your friend." "I'll let you know, believe me," Ri answered, glaring at her companion, who felt about two centimeters tall. *clatterclatterclatter* The crab chime made its usual noise as Redneck stepped through the main door of the Lab, calling out: "Hey, Washuu?" "Kris! Hi! How's it hangin'? I thought you had a gun-run to make..." The small, red-headed mad scientist had not immediately turned to greet Red, but as soon as she did, and saw who was with him, her smile abruptly vanished. "Um... who are your friends?" Redneck blinked. "Actually, I never got their names." Dropping the two goons he'd been toting, he said, "And these two don't appear to be talking to anyone, ever again, it seems." "Rianna," the raven-haired horned woman answered, sounding tired. "Rianna Santova. And this," she glared at her companion, "is Mayl Popp'fl." "hi," Mayl said sheepishly, edging slightly away from Rianna. "Charmed, Ms. Popp'fl," Washuu answered, now totally serious. "And you, Lady Santova. It's been a while since I've had a Dark Jedi walk into my parlor." Her light-hearted voice failed to match the icy stare she gave Rianna. "EXCUSE ME?!?" Kris shouted, looking at Rianna and missing Washuu's glare. "Uh... right," Rianna said. "Though I'd rather be somewhere else right now." "Um..." Red's brain revved in neutral. Rianna's eyes narrowed at the wave of pity she felt from the blonde man.. "And quit feeling sorry for me. I'm perfectly *fine*, thank you." "Um... sorry, but I'm not buying that." "Excuse me," Washuu interjected. Looking up from her examination of Mayl's injured ankle, she continued, "But this young lady has a strained tendon, can one of you help me with her?" "Where?" Rianna asked bluntly. Washuu gestured in the direction of her main examination table. Without ceremony, Rianna picked up Mayl and hauled her across the foyer, finally seating the elf firmly on the examination table. "Thank you," Washuu said politely. "If you like, there's a lounge through that doorway on the right where you may wait." "Fine, whatever," Rianna growled. "I don't want to see her for a while." Glaring one final time at Mayl, she strode through the door, slamming it behind her.. Kris watched the door settle in its frame, sensing Rianna's turmoil fade slightly as she walked away., "Washuu, can you see to Ms. Popp'fl? I need to talk to that young woman." Without waiting for a reply, he followed Rianna into the lounge, leaving Mayl and Washuu staring after them.