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| A Deed Without a Name |
A Deed Without A Name
Near the edge of the galactic disc,in a broad expanse between spiral arms known
as the Cron Drift,three ships huddled together against the soft,pink glow of
ancient star death. The Rebel Command ship and it's two support craft had been
poised there for some time; taking advantage of the nebula's background
radiation to shield them from long-range scanning.
At the bridge of the
Dauntless
, smallest of the Rebel ships, Mered Sorens sat her shift as navigator
uneasily. Twelve years as personal aide to Mon Mothma had changed the
thirty-five year old Eritrian intellectual. Her slim figure had thickened,her
dark hair now showed a few strands of silver; but impatience was still Mered's
biggest fault and four ship-board 'days' waiting for some word on the
Tantive IV's
status was harrowing. Fingers drumming on her console,Mered's hazel eyes darted
toward the bridge chrono before fixing on the
Dauntless'
calm pilot.
Several meters away, Evann Sorens-sensing her anxious gaze upon him- leaned
back in his chair to favor his younger sister with an encouraging smile.
"We'll hear from Massassi or Tierfon soon." He reassured.
"Organa may have headed for a smaller outpost. We have to allow for slow
communication."
"And if he was captured?" Finally Mered just had to say what
everyone had come to think.
"Even if he doesn't talk, you know what happens if the plans never get to
us."
"I think it's a bluff." Evann shrugged, stretching out his long legs
as he turned to face his worried sibling." The name alone-DeathStar!
Classic Imperial propaganda! They don't have to actually build some monstrosity
to intimidate half the galaxy. If they have,with or without the plans it won't
be enough to stop the Rebellion."
"I hope you're right." Mered sighed, glancing out of the viewport
toward the stars that waited for Mothma's signal to start civil war. Now every
Rebel prayed that their cause was not doomed by a 'super weapon' before it
really began. Mothma herself had said it in her last staff confrontation Time
was running out.
Something had to happen soon.
Time was very much on the mind of a young room-servant who guided a repulsor
lift cart down the plush corridors of the Imperial Pavillion Hotel.
It was his fifteenth trip already, and he had only been on duty two hours. He
could not recall when the galactic capital's second best hotel ( the new
"Penumbra" was in a class by itself) was not filled with visiting
bureaucrats and Imperial functionaries of one type or another. At least, the
boy thought as he sidestepped a cleaning droid, they were all human. A
prejudice against aliens was one of the few things he and the Empire agreed on.
Even the worst Imperial guest was better that some of the things he had heard
had once frequented the Pavillion before the Emperor changed things.
Arriving at suite 553, the boy keyed the comm panel as he meticulously
rearranged the covered dishes with practiced ease. Hopefully, these guests
would be mid-level ambassadors impressed with the capital and eager to appear
important by tipping extravagantly.
Wishful thinking.
As severe looking an Imperial officer as the hotel servant had ever seen stood
in the open doorway. Definitely an officer;even though he wore only the uniform
pants and a black undershirt beneath a short robe, the demeanor was
unmistakable. So was the bulge of a hand weapon at his waist.
" Your,your meal, sir. " The boy announced, surprised at his own
nervousness.
There was a slight twitch of thin lips as the Imperial stepped aside to allow
entrance to the suite. Steely eyes followed him as he positioned the cart as
the tall man directed silently. Two other men, partially uniformed as well, sat
a small dining table; as expressionless as their companion.
Following procedure, the waiter lifted each dish cover for approval. Only the
seated men seemed interested; the tall Imperial remained near the door,
glowering.
" Fine." One of the men, a dark, facially scarred sergeant- by the
rank on his shirt- grunted in dismissal.
It was enough. The boy set the table,and headed for the door with his empty
cart.
A large hand shot out,blocking his exit. The cold eyes of the big officer
fixed on him again,this time accompanied by a smile that looked both unnatural
and pained.
" Your gratuity." The man whispered hoarsely, tossing several credit
chips on the empty tray. A generous amount, considering the infamously cheap
military.
Nodding dumbly, the young waiter headed out of the suite , anxious to put
several floors between the intimidating men and himself.
" Poor bastard." The Imperial deadpanned once the door closed, "
That job is going to kill him.."
" Humor!" One of his companions remarked casually around a mouthful
of food as Major joined them at the table. " And he's only been here four
days!"
" Shut up and eat, Jaet." The leader of the Freedoms Sons growled,
heaping his plate with a little of everything they had ordered.
Jaet and Vaulin exchanged looks and did just that. Neither man had worked with
Major before, but they were learning that the galaxy's most elusive anarchist
was every bit as brittle and unapproachable as was legend.
Even if Major had been inclined to relax, conversation between the men was
inane by design. Seventy-two audio surveillance devices had been found in the
four room suite. All but one had been adjusted to garble the receptors; that
one-imbedded in a free-form sculpture near the dining area- was left to
function normally. Complete surveillance failure would be investigated; they
had come too far for that.
The ISD, evidently, had little faith in Imperial personnel.
.
The implied paranoia of the Empire amused the Freedom's Sons. So did the irony
of an Alliance InTel team, drawing Imperial pay and enjoying an officers
expense account while on Radiaa- waiting to assassinate Neiamas Palpatine.
Seventeen years before, Navar Carnathon had allied his infamous terrorist
organization with Aerolone Mothma's moralistic Alliance. The association had
altered the Freedoms Sons drastically, but Major ( the only name anyone knew )
had not.Thirty years spent as a 'zealous, suicidal terrorist' had made the
already vengeful man acrimonious. Morals, he was fond of saying, were something
Mothma could afford; her family had not given the galaxy to Neiamas Palpatine.
Mothma's hatred of the Emperor was nothing beside Majors. It was natural that
they would collaborate toward his destruction, but it would be both ironic and
just when Navar killed the man he knew as Ghairm Carnathon with his own hands.
That singular thought had driven Major from the beginning. It had brought him
to Radiaa with a team of hand-picked men, all of whom were prepared to die if
necessary rather than fail.
Before the seven hour sleep cycle, Major, Jaet and Vaulin had time to relax in
unaccustomed comfort. It hadn't taken them long to discover that their suite
was equipped with the latest in provocative entertainment via the Pavillion's
private holochannel.After less than an hour, the men were bored. Imperial
propaganda experts had no doubt scripted the pornographic holofeature of the
night. The star was an over-sexed Imperial fleet Admiral who charged around the
galaxy crotch first. Any erotic possibilities dissolved in the first few
minutes when it became obvious that strict bias against anything non-human
eliminated aliens from the cast.
Another amusing hour of viewing had gone by when a light tapping came from the
door. Each man reacted according to plan-Jeat out of sight to the left, Vaulin
to the right.Major, one hand on his concealed blaster, answered the door.
He paused, barely breathing. The knock came again. Recognizable this time.
Jaet cued the scrambler for the last 'bug'. As the door slid open, slowly, the
grey of an Imperial sleeve became visible; then the man's face...fleshy, pale
around nervous brown eyes....Doan slipped quickly into the suite.
Major had not seen the man in over four years; it had been that long ago when
the Freedom's Sons last reported in with the news that Doan had been promoted
to officer status in the Imperial army. He had been one of their best 'moles';
rebels placed within the Empire's military whose sole purpose was to position
themselves at optimum advantage to do damage to the Empire. Doan had found his
way to the rank and file of the ISD,then into position as a security chief in
the underground Imperium complex. The job had aged the once handsome man
decades;now his hair was grey and lines creased his sallow face.
" It's no good." Doan blurted unceremoniously, " You have to
get out, now!"
" Why?" Major snarled as Doan paced the room.
" It just came over the security net. The
Devastator
captured the
Tantive
in the Tatooine system. They destroyed the ship,but Senator Organa is being
questioned by Vader himself; the plans-"
" Senator? " Major's eyes narrowed. " Not the Viceroy?"
" No, it was specific. " Doan snapped. Acutely aware of the limited
time he had to report and get back to his post. " Leia Organa has been
caught in treason. Alderaan hasn't been told yet; no one knows, but there's a
lot of commotion at the Complex. Things are tightening up. You've got to get
out while you still can."
" Damn that Eritrian and her finesse." Major swore with a
grimace." She lectures ME about ethics then trusts everything to a
pompous, bored KID!"
" The Deathstar's her problem." Vaulin offered. " Our objective
hasn't changed. "
" Yeah, we can do it now." Jaet echoed.
" Has anyone been compromised?" Major queried. mind working
furiously. " Is everyone still in place? "
Doan stepped back to stare incredulously at the three.
" Major, it's impossible." He insisted." You three aren't coded
to enter until tomorrow. The Empire is regulated from here to hell; you
wouldn't' get past the first security station."
It was Major's decision, and he was weighing his options when Doan's belt
comlink signalled.
" Colonel Doan?" The transmitted voice startled them all.
" Go ahead, Major Arrant." Doan replied expectantly.
" Lord Vader's ship is returning, and we've just received a Supreme
Order-all personnel in the Imperium have been reassigned to combat units.
personnel transferral will be completed in fifteen minutes. We're standing by
for an announcement from the Emperor, Something big.."
" Transmission understood." Doan signed off, replaced the comm on
his belt, and looked to Major.
" Can you get us on a transport?" The rebel leader frowned.
" Arranged before I left the office." Doan explained, handing the
boarding vouchers over. " You go to the Stardestroyer
Marauder, it's first stop is Citate VI, you can connect with a freight hauler and be
clear before they know you're gone."
" Good enough." Major acknowledged as Jaet and Vaulin hastily
packed, " You're a good man, Doan. Bide your time. We'll get another
opportunity."
" Good luck, Major." The Freedom's Son extended his hand to clasp
that of his commander.In moments he was gone to an uncertain fate.
Uncertainty hung heaviest over the Command Cruiser
Dauntless. One hundred shipboard hours had elapsed since confirmation of the long-sought
Deathstar's existence had been provided by Bail Organa.
Alderaan's Princess, narrowly escaping capture by the Dark Lord himself on
Raltiir, had returned from her unsuccessful mission to re-supply that planet's
allied government with medical equipment with an injured rebel. The man died
shortly after reaching Alderaan,but not before he'd passed on information from
field liaisons regarding the theft, and transmission, of the deadly
battlestations' plans by a small rebel outpost on Toprowa. Suddenly,after
months of nothing, everything was happening at once.
Swift, decisive action was necessary, for the lives of the Toprowan rebels-as
well as the stolen data-hung in the balance.
The Viceroy's proposal to employ his own consular ship as 'Skyhook' had been
too logical to dispute. Even though, the Alliance president had regretted
giving her approval almost immediately.
Yet Aerolone Mothma was not a woman to agonize over decisions once they were
made. Bail Organa had been her dearest friend,mentor,and irreplaceable military
advisor for over twenty years.He had been the first to stand with her against
Palpatine's Empire. It was Organa's personal fortune that had financed the
Rebellion's formative years; his contacts, influence and the dedication of his
people that kept it alive. It would not bode well for Alderaan if the
distinctly marked consular vessel were intercepted in it's mission; for the
galaxy it might very well end,forever, any hope for freedom.
Thus, it was with a heavy heart and a worried mind that the former Imperial
Senator allowed her body to rest.
Her dreamless sleep lasted a mere four hours.
The sharp tones of her bedside comm woke Aerolone instantly. She turned on her
pillow,keying the board without opening her eyes. The soft voice of the
Dauntless' comm officer greeted her.
"Bail?" Mothma asked, after a breathless moment.
" No, ma'am. It's the
Revenant
,Captain Yates." Came the reply.
" Go ahead." Aerolone responded as she sat up.
The
Revenant
was on the Coreward side of the Tion Hegemony, near Bestine; too near Imperial
territory to make casual contact permissible... A man's voice crackled in the
cool darkness.
" Eidolon?" Her codename, caution was the rule.
" Go ahead, Captain. " She replied crisply.
" The InTel team has reached safety at Base T," Yate's clear
baritone was, as always, calm. " And they have reported the 'packet'
transmitted and received by D'Cera."
" Not Bail? " Aerolone took the news silently. She was somewhat
relieved to know that the Viceroy was still safe on Alderaan, and could find no
fault with his logic in trusting the Toprowan mission to his diplomatically
immune daughter. Leia was well known for her missions of mercy and she
capitalized often on the Imperial tendency to underestimate women as a threat.
It was the fact that the lives of billions rested,literally, in the hands of an
audacious nineteen year old that chilled Mothma.
" The last monitored transmission from our intercept craft indicated she fled the system, pursued by the Devastator. It has not arrived at,nor contacted, any facility. Passive Ops has further information. Stand by..." Yates signed off.
A slight crackle was followed by a series of tones and the electronically
translated voice of the Intelligence Division's Commander replaced that of the
Freedom's Son.
" Bad news, my friend?" Mothma prepared herself.
" It is so, Kursun-Cesaret. The Chigetai's reply was slow and measured;
partially due to the translation delay,but also attributable to the
deliberative thought processes of his race's distant relationship to Wookiees.
" I have failed in my duty. Solar Flare's objective escaped unharmed. We
have, however, taken a Calamarian who claims to have been his aide. The
prisoner has resisted extensive questioning, yet insists he has valuable
information that he will give only to you.
The President's mind whirred. The aide could, should, be considered an
unwitting diversionary tactic at best; at the worst a skillful agent and a
personal threat, but...he was a Calamarian, as incorruptible a race as the
galaxy had ever produced. Beings of honor. If he was who he claimed to be; if
there was information so important he dared not trust it to anyone less than
the Alliance President...
"Recommendation?" Mothma asked softly. It was her practice to
solicit advice,whenever possible, before critical decisions were made.
" Were I you, I would speak with him." The Chigetai's words were all
she needed.
" I am enroute to your location now. " Mothma replied decisively.
" Shift all level Three and Four personnel to Fleet InTel, effective
immediately." She keyed the appropriate code into her console,notifying
all elements of her military of a shift in objective." The operational
countdown is halted. Prepare to recall all teams should the prisoner's data
prove important enough to warrant re-deployment.We can't afford a margin for
error now. I'll expect hard data on positioning when I arrive."
" Done." Pontianak signed off.
On the Dauntless' bridge, Evann Sorens had already taken the ship into hyperspace.
Jari Dinnean, ten seasons old the day before and as inquisitive as three
Alderaanian children her age, halted her dance practice in mid-spin to peer out
of the dining room's low window. Twisting her long, dark curls absently, Jari
looked to her mother.
" Why is Ekinna Antilles outside all alone?"
Milla Dinnean, still a handsome woman despite the new wrinkles and greying
hair, sighed so softly her little girl could not have heard as she prepared
breakfast for her family. Pausing momentarily, Milla looked to see their guest
sitting a dozen meters or so from the back of the ranch house. Beyond, the
blue-green water of the Romdive river curled across wide pasture land. After
thirty one years on Sirsalis, raising five children, Milla could well
understand why the troubled Corellian would seek peace of mind by simply
sitting.
" I'm sure she misses Uncle Einar." Milla explained, trying to keep
her voice light and steady. " She's probably a little sad too, thinking
about Wedge; leaving Alderaan is hard enough."
Milla let the words trail off, hoping Jari hadn't heard; but the little girl
was at her mother's skirt instantly, a plaintive frown on her small face.
" But Mama," Jari whined, all thoughts of dance practice
vanished." I don't want to go! The Viceroy said we don't have to."
" Don't start." Milla scolded gently while setting a large pitcher
and an array of colorful mugs. " We'll leave when it's time,and return
when his Majesty say's it's safe. We won't be on Watrous XII very long, Jari;
just until the fighting is over."
Like all Alderaanian mothers, Milla had explained the imminent evacuation to
her children thoroughly. All the political, common-sense reasons had been
offered, and she knew the children understood them, but Milla did not know how
to stop the pain and fear the thought of leaving their home caused. No
Alderaanian parents expected their children to stoically face what they, too,
dreaded so silently.
" Hush, now and eat." Milla urged the snuffling child toward the
table.
"I don't want to go!" Jari whined, fresh tears in her eyes as she
took her seat." I don't want to!"
" Well, I can't wait!" A squeaky voice interrupted.
Jari's fourteen year old brother, Phalen, skidded to an awkward stop in time
to filch a warm muffin from the tray his mother carried. The look of supreme
disgust on Jari's face started his day off perfectly.
"Once Uncle Einar get's those plans to the Rebels, Dad, Ladis and me'll
help the Viceroy kick the Empire off Alderaan for good! Cheer up, Jari- maybe
Watrous XII isn't so bad. Mom won't be able to complain about too much
holo-vid, 'cause there wont' be any!"
" Mamaaaa!" Jari whined.
" Force preserve us, this again?"
Seventeen year old Vala yawned after a mumbled 'morning' to her family, green
eyes still fighting sleep. She sipped at her juice as she shifted her chair to
make room for her older sister.
Bethe, the eldest of the Dinnean's daughters, swollen and ill-tempered in her
last weeks of pregnancy, rolled her eyes heavenward at the prospect of another
day of her youngest sister's complaints. Even with her mouth full of cereal,
the petulant child repeated the same words endlessly.
" Will you hush Jari?" The young matron snapped. " I don't want
to go either,nor do any of us! Do you think Princess Leia want's to leave
Alderaan?"
" Bethe, please..." Milla pleaded wearily," ...and Jari, you're
upsetting your sister."
" She complains more than a nayaur after unsuccessful mating." Vala
observed drily.
"VALA!" Milla sputtered, nearly spilling her broma. " I've told
you about such language!"
" What unsuccessful mating?" A male voice interrupted.
Brye Dinnean, tall and angular, tanned from sun and wind, wavy black hair gone
grey, stomped mud from his boots before entering the sunny dining room. As one
of Alderaan's largest breeders of the galaxy's prized meat animal, Brye took
talk of unproductive mating seasons very seriously.
A withering look from Milla, an understanding nod toward her sniffling
daughter, clarified things for Brye.
With stern features softening as he studied her watery eyes and trembling
lips,the rancher dropped to one knee beside Jari to smooth her long hair.
" What did I tell you about being a good little rebel for Alderaan?"
He whispered. " We all have a job to do if we want to live free again.
Some Alderaanians have to stay here to protect our home, but others,like you
your mother and brother and sisters have to go to build a colony world for all
the people the Empire has hurt. You want to help those people,don't you
sweetheart?"
Jari nodded vigorously, rewarding her father with a winsome smile as he stood.
Phalen, however, did not like being included in the list of evacuees.
" Ladis told me I could stay." He mumbled around a mouthful of
kasha. " I can shoot as good as he can! Don't want to go to no colony
world."
" You'll do as I say, young man." Brye corrected his brooding son
evenly. The tension was getting to all of them after a matter of only
days....what if the operation was halted indefinitely? " Where is Ladis
anyway?"
Brye poured himself a mug of hot kafa; slipping at last into the composed
manner that served Alderaanian's so well in times of stress.
" He should have arranged for the airspeeder by now. The flight pattern
to Scirelicet will be filled early. Isn't Renata awake yet?"
Bethe winced as she massaged her abdomen,then pointed toward the window.
" She's been out there since before sunrise, Father. I feel so sorry for
her, it's so much harder... I know how much I miss Martil, and he's right on
Ilmanin..." Her words trailed off wistfully as she thought of her young
husband in his Strike Unit, and her unborn child. War, she knew, was inevitable
and for all their faith and determination there were no guarantees that her
unborn daughter would ever know Alderaan ,or her father.
Brye glanced around the table at his subdued family,finished his kafa then
ruffled Bethe's hair playfully.
" I'll be right back." He announced going out of the door.
Cool breeze tugged at his loose work clothes as Brye approached the small
Corellian woman who sat on a stone bench gazing toward the distant Ardalis
plateau.
" He'll be home soon, Renata." The rancher stated simply.
" I know." The woman answered without turning around. " I would
feel better if the Viceroy had gone, but,Einar won't take any unnecessary
chances." She turned then to squint up at her husband's friend; but Brye;s
gaze was riveted on his land, the bright sky, the common glory of an
Alderaanian morning.
" I was just thinking," Renata observed." Of how very fortunate
we've been, how fortunate I've been, to call this home. After the war, it'll
never be the same."
" You're right," Brye responded gruffly. " There won't be a
thing left standing. We know that. But when the dust clears, it's going to be
OURS again. Not theirs."
The Corellian woman winced at the words. Her own father had spoken thus,so many
years before; when Corell's people had rebelled against a much less powerful
Empire. Graylin Bithniya, and thousands of his people,had been brutally
executed as an example to those who would emulate him. All the courage,
determination and fighting rage for which Corellian's were renowned had earned
them only death and subjugation. It didn't seem to Renata,despite all the
discussions she and Einar had about it, that the taciturn,forbearing
Alderaanians really understood what freedom-if it could be won-would really
cost.
But it was Renata who did not understand,even after seventeen years among
them, the profound change that had come over the placid, tolerant Alderaanians.
Priorities had been reversed, and it was simply not their nature to deny the
inevitable or to reject the truth however bitter.
" This," Brye announced simply, waving on calloused hand toward his
aqua-green pastures, all that was his; " Is just scenery."
Renata knew how those words must have hurt, for Dinnean's love for his world
was so fierce, so deeply rooted in rock,soil and soul that it had taken a
generation for them to be thought-much less spoken.
" We don't love it more than our principles,or our freedom, though many
think so." The rancher attempted to sound positive. " The galaxy
learned a lot from your people, Renata; now it's watching Alderaan. If we win,
if the Rebellion succeeds, we will start again."
Einar Antilles' wife nodded silently, understanding. It was the philosophy of
the desperate-all or nothing, the very precepts by which a fugitive Imperial
Senator had fashioned an army of beings like Brye Dinnean.
Rancher and noblewoman studied the horizon together for a long moment before
Renata spoke.
" Do you think Wedge and John are together?" Suddenly she was
worried about her handsome, twenty-five year old son. Neither of their children
had been heard from in almost a year.
" 'magine so." The big Alderaanian answered thoughtfully. Hands
clasped behind his back, Brye shuffled one boot lazily at the dirt. " And
they'll take care of that battlestation,too. I believe that. Well..." He
cleared his throat loudly." I came out here to persuade you to have
morning meal with us before you leave."
He offered his hand, and the tiny Corellian matron took it; rising on stiff
knees to take a deep breath that tasted of new marran grass, meadow flowers and
the sharp tank of the Romdive.
" I think about it too." Dinnean admitted as they turned back toward
the house. He kept his eyes away from her keen grey ones." We all do. But
we trust the Viceroy and he trusts Mon Mothma so...we follow the plan. You
know, you don't have to return to S'Jova, Renata."
" I want to." She smiled; despite their hospitality and the restful
surroundings, Renata missed the bustle of the city. There was less time to
think there. " It's home."
Brye smiled knowingly as he allowed the tiny woman to precede him indoors;
then he paused to glance once more at the perfect beauty of his home, seeing it
as it would be...barren, burning,scarred.
" Damn." He muttered softly. "Damn."
To understand the bitter determination, the agonizing contrast of impatience
and dread Brye Dinnean shared with every other citizen, one would first have to
realize that Alderaanians no longer saw themselves as they had for generations.
Twenty years as the subjects of Neiamas Palpatine, spent watching as every
facet of their lives were tainted by Imperial policy- years spent compromising,
rationalizing,had left Alderaanians with a self-image of cowardice.
It had happened gradually, but generations of restraint had been finally
overcome by the same innate defiance that had founded Alderaan four hundred
generations before.
The first humans to set foot on the planet had been refugees, outcasts from
Adasi-a world whose culture had declined into superstition and paranoia even
before beings who called themselves 'Jedi' brought their religion to it's
troubled people. Some believed, and for daring to follow 'sorcerers' and
encourage belief in a controlling energy field, they were persecuted and
banished from Adasi.
Led by their King, several thousand Adasian's landed on a wide plateau
overlooking a blue-green ocean and called their new home,Alderaan-'toward the
light'. And when the Jedi arrived to teach and advise they were welcomed by a
people who based their culture on a religion that would eventually cost them
more than even the Jedi could foresee.
Bail Organa's abdication of the throne, in favor of a democracy, altered the
lives of his brother and sister as well as his own.
Landwerlin Organa had never really forgiven her eldest brother for ending the
monarchy and thus the right of secession for herself and her children. Years
passed without a civil word between them.
Her husband and children did not share Landwerlin's bitterness over the loss of
a title. The Ellare name was enough to be proud of, and legends of Alderaan's
last,great, monarchs-Thouars and Cayleteyne Organa - meant little to them.
Vanaernum Organa's memory of his parents was far different from that of his
older siblings. Where Bail and Landwerlin had been restricted by a sense of
history and duty to their planet, Vanaernum-from an early age- was free to
dream. And dream he did.
Even after the winsome, lisping boy had grown into a towering muscular man,
whose deep-set blue eyes and thinning brown hair added to his already
remarkable resemblance to Alderaan's first King, Vanaernum held to his dream to
become the first Organa Jedi.
He wanted nothing more.
Life took the young Prince another way. He became an industrialist, owner of Alderaan's largest erbium mine, and an acknowledged expert in his field. It had taken a violent, soul wrenching argument with his brother to get Vanaernum to plan-in minute detail- what he considered the ultimate act of blasphemy.
The destruction of the Trisialon Plateau, and the three ceremonial buildings upon it, from which the first and the last Jedi to visit Alderaan had taught; would, at a pre-arranged signal from the Viceroy, disappear into the waters of the Barisal Deeps forever. Vanaernum's expertise as a geological engineer would ensure that it looked like a natural seismic disaster. The news would be enthusiastically broadcast across the Imperial holo-net ( anything that discredited the old Republic was) and Mothma's far--flung rebels would have their signal.
Eight men huddled in the small sub-tunnel that angled upward thirty degrees
toward the cliff face. Nearly a kilometer deep, the ancient tunnels were
cold,clammy and stygian black. Two hand-held fusion lamps barely illuminated
the data-pad diagram the men studied, casting their shadows large against the
stratified walls. Each man had been hand picked by Vanaernum Organa for his expertise in
explosives; each had his own thoughts about their task and were prudent enough
to keep them private.
Vanaernum was even less likely to discuss anything but the technical matters
at hand. He emerged from the dark access tunnel accompanied by a small scanner
droid,his face grim in the wavering light.
" Caisses team is disarming now." He informed his men. " No
follow up sweep this time. Take your time with the re-route,but there have been
some slight changes. Two new fault scarps have appeared, twelve degrees below
the south escape tunnel. Set the even charges to arc downward at forty five
degrees, the odd, same setting three minutes later. Arendall..." Organa
looked to the pale,grey eyed man at his left. " The base charges have to
go off precisely fifty two minutes after the mains; recalibrate for minimum
sensitivity."
Keegan nodded, grimacing, looked at his friends faces then began an awkward
speech.
"There's something we'd all like you to know,before we split up,
Van." Arendall braved. " We don't share your memories of this
place;to us it's ancient history. A lot of good happened up there,but the Jedi
aren't ever coming back...I mean, by using it this way we can destroy what
destroyed them."
Vanaernum's expression was unreadable as he clapped Keegan on the shoulder. If
he had a reply, he reconsidered as Caisse and his team appeared in the
passageway,
The Alderaanian demolition team disappeared into the access tunnels without
further discussion.
Mothma is gathering support,credits and materiels are flowing from Alderaan,as
well as other planets.We are not helpless. Let our enemies think us
harmless,our time will come.
Alderaanians lived with such thoughts daily. Patience and cunning were the only
weapons left them; so the proud people watched, patiently, as Alderaan became
Imperialized by degrees. For twenty long years Alderaanian eyes were on the
future. They were patient.
Ultimately, it had cost them their freedom.
It had been a slower process,but life on Alderaan had taken on the same
standardized feeling of other subjugated worlds.Imperial policy controlled
every facet of daily life. Citizens could not congregate in groups larger than
ten, art, science and commerce were subject to COMPNOR guidelines. Finally,
Alderaans educational system was revamped according to Imperial standards and a
generation of Alderaanian children were taught that the clone wars had been an
unavoidable,necessary evil-instigated by sorcerers-and prolonged by corrupt
fanatics of the Old Republic.
Order had been restored to a chaotic galaxy when Palpatine ended the
madness.Alderaanians bowed to the lies,and kept the truth alive in their homes;
they accepted-even befriended-the thousands of Imperial troops stationed in
their largest cities and hid rebel agents and weapons in the countryside.
They were model Imperial citizens.
Markris Siod, Ablegate/Overseer of Alderaan walked a fine line between severity
and leniency in fulfilling his duty to the Emperor. He had never been a strict
militarist before his appointment,but seventeen years on the galaxy's
supernally peaceful show-world had mellowed him further. Then too, compared to
it's first Ablegate, Ursel Feltan, Siod considered himself well-liked and
accepted by the populace and the Viceroy. Feltan had been a sadist.
Markris' primary objective in life was to serve the remainder of his career-a
mere six months-on meek,docile Alderaan; enjoying the good life. Praying that
Alderaanian backbone would not regenerate.Still, Siod took his command
seriously. He was responsible for the enforcement of Imperial law and subject
to the discipline of his superiors if he disregarded the periodic sensor sweep
ordered by the sector governor. The Ablegate considered the scans a waste of
Imperial funds and his time;nothing remotely suspicious had been detected in
all his years in charge. Nothing would be found now. Organa was an old man,
long past reckless bravado,and his genteel people comported themselves as
dutiful Imperial subjects.
So, it wasn't suspicion or worry that prompted the second scan of the year. It
was routine. Just as routinely,Siod hoped that Alderaan would behave
itself,making his job-and their lives-that much easier.
" Well, Lieutanant? Has the data been analyzed yet?"
The ten officers manning the Analysis Station looked up in surprise. It wasn't
often that the Ablegate personally collected the report. The plump, dark haired
Radiaan had a stern look on his usually amiable face.
" We're just finishing now, sir." The young officer he had addressed
tapped instructions on his keyboard that transferred the incoming diagram onto
the viewscreen. Three red spots jolted Siod. He paled noticeably.
" We have three S.E.R.'s. " The black analyst cited professionally.
" One here on Sirsalis, near the Gissar spaceport; the others on
Ilmanin-here, and here."
" Are any of our T..V.O's in those areas?" Siod frowned
" No sir, everyone is where they usually are, Except the Viceroy. He left
his sisters home on Mistassin an hour and a half ago, and is just landing at
the Niassus islands. Should a recon team go to Ridaught?"
" I should say not, Lieutenant." The Ablegate snatched the small
data pad attached to the console, logged his authorization, then tossed it back
impatiently. " But go ahead and dispatch the Confirmation Team. Like as
not, they'll find the same thing we always do. Nothing."
Vanaernum advanced through the escape tunnels that had been carved generations
before, the same ones that had served as the escape route for the last Abishai
fleeing from Imperial 'interrogation'.
After several minutes,Vanaernum emerged from the tunnels to find himself in the
largest of the Sialon's buildings. In the very room that had served as the
private quarters of visiting Jedi.
How long had it been since the last Jedi meditated in the hush of these rooms,
Organa wondered. Or taught beneath the soaring iolite columns? Thirty-five
years?
At least that long.
To a man who had treasured the memory, bitter tho it was, of that last visit.
He had been a young man of twenty-one, who had wanted nothing more than to
dedicate his life to his religion;to be the first Organa to be called Jedi.
Now, in the cold, still sanctuary, Vanaernum could hear the voice of the old
Jedi master Daryoush. As kind, sympathetic,and devastating as it had sounded
then.
His faith had been put to the test that day. Just as it was being tested now.
Daryoush had counseled a devastated young Prince by promising that, tho he had
no Force talent, his strong belief would be needed one day by the Jedi. A
'different path' the master had foreseen.
Now,a Prince no more, Vanaernum stood ready to destroy the last physical
symbol of the Jedi left on Alderaan. And he wondered if Daryoush had foreseen
this day.
Vanaernum touched the laser-gouged remnant of the stone benches that had been
arranged in a circle around a raised platform. Even the simple dais the Jedi
had stood upon had been shattered by rampaging Imperials after the war's end.
Their first Ablegate had enjoyed defiling everything.
Nothing was left.
If he had hoped for some insight, some spiritual validation for - or against - his
decision, Vanaernum was denied it. The Sialons served no purpose now; as Bail had insisted, it belonged to the
past. It's only value was as a instrument to shape the future.
The stalwart Alderaanian surveyed the landmark for the last time, bending to
lift a small chunk of violet stone from the shattered dais before striding back
to the subterranean passageway.......
Somewhere in the sunless tunnels, the souvenir slipped from his fingers into a
rubble-filled crevice.
The sensor sweep of Alderaan ended without Siod any the wiser as to Bail Organa's whereabouts.Bail's official aircar had, indeed, proceeded to Niassus; but the ever-cautious Viceroy had not been on it. Arranging beforehand to be unobtrusively piloted back to Barisal by a member of his sister's staff, the Viceroy was within a kilometer of the Imperial Sector Command office while the Ablegate thought him to be at the home of his Minister of Defense.
Gerer Ridaught and Bail Organa met in Capital offices of the Minister of State
for their final war conference.
Nea Juroc had come to know both men well in her twenty seven years as a public
official; first as Ambassador to Raltiir, then Sullust. The past eleven had
been spent coordinating every political aspect of Alderaan's defense off-world,
it's corporate and diplomatic offices, against Imperial retribution. The task
had required constant, intense supervision and had left it's harsh imprint in
the deep lines on a once lovely face..
Nea looked far older than her fifty seven years, but the green eyes that darted
from Organa to Ridaught were as sharp and aware as they always had been.
She concluded her report on the notification of Alderaan's Ambassadors in the
same dry, clipped tone she always used.
" Ambassador Marrix on Corell, is holding at Readiness Level Two. As is
Obrafta on Yaguarund and Peytral on Eritria. No further contact with Raltiir
has been made since her Highness' return. Blackmarr is still unaccounted for;
along with all negotiable and sensitive materials from our Embassy there.
"Uncle Charly 'reported that the ion cannon on Thon was about ten minutes
from operational status, approximately eighteen minutes ago. Minister of
Transportation, Vuncanan says evacuation can begin within twenty five minutes
of the ground strike and....Gerer, there's a problem with Ribu. Turrens hasn't
received the power packs for the Meer-Sonn cannon."
" Taken care of. ETA three minutes. All others are at readiness Level
One."
"Any word from Vanaernum? " The Viceroy asked anxiously.
"Caisse reported in from Ariton. Everything is ready to go on your
order." Ridaught reported grimly.
" I still don't know how you managed to convince Vanaernum to destroy
Trisialon when it means so much to him."
" My brother made the only logical decision he could,based on the
information I gave him. All he needed to know at the time. Afterward, he will
understand; as will my daughter."
" Her Highness doesn't know of Trisialon?" Ridaught asked
skeptically.& quot; How do you think you can keep it from her? When she
returns..."
" Leia is not coming back to Alderaan." The Viceroy announced
firmly. " At least not until this is over. Antilles carried orders from
me,to the commander of whichever base they report to,to detain our headstrong
Princess/Senator by force if necessary."
" I pity the unfortunate Commander. Your daughter was quite determined to
remain at your side during the uprising." Nea said.
" So she said. But I prefer she remain safely in a detention cell when
the Alliance and the Empire clash. Her work is done, and even as we speak,
Obi-Wan Kenobi and a very special young man are on their way to us."
" General Kenobi?" Ridaught leapt to his feet, astounded.
" Alive all these years? Where?"
" On Tatooine." Organa sighed as though a great weight had been
lifted from him. " Waiting."
" Who is this 'young man', Bail?" Jurac interrupted. There was
something about the Viceroy's expression that sent a shiver up her spine.
" Anakin Skywalker's son."
The smile on the Viceroy's face was the first either of his friends had seen
in months.
" A Jedi?" Ridaught was positively thunderstruck. This was more good
fortune than he had ever dreamed of.
" If things have gone as Kenobi planned." Organa explained
soberly,reaching into a tunic pocket. " And if things do not go as we
have planned?"
Reaching across the desk, he placed a small packet before the Minister of
State. She recognized the silvery capsules it contained.
" Strophanthin."
" Enhanced." Bail informed her. "Fifteen seconds, there will be
no pain. Should you, and your personnel decide to stay, it is an option."
" My staff." Nea let the words trail off with a shrug. " My
place is here."
" Then, you will be assigned a military guard. No arguments."
The Viceroy and Ridaught stood to leave..
" Bail,wait." Jurac couldn't let her dearest friend's husband leave
like this. In a rare display of affection, she grasped Bails's hands.
" Thank you for all you've done. I should have said it before now."
He simply smiled, hugged her, and was gone.
Minutes later, a frantic Anizar contacted the Ministerial office searching for
the Viceroy. An Imperial shuttle had, without warning,landed directly on the palace grounds.
As his ground limo approached the palace and the gleaming white Carrack class
shuttle could be seen poised on the greensward, Bail Organa was thankful that
such an occurrence had been anticipated and planned for months ago.
Even if Anizar had had more than a few minutes notice of the Imperial's
arrival-and by the looks of it, he'd had less than that- the palace guard would
be unobtrusively armed and all personnel had been cautioned against unnecessary
contact with the unexpected 'visitors',
If their luck held,this would be another of Palpatine's minor functionaries
exercising newly-granted authority by touring Alderaan's celebrated
museums,universities and market places. Many had come before, and they had
departed after bullying everyone became tiresome and their ships hold's were
filled with appropriated goods
This particular bureaucrat had chosen the wrong time to inflict himself on
Alderaan, Bail thought coldly. He would die with...
The thought ended abruptly as the limo passed the shuttle's armed guard. On
their uniform sleeves was the circular insignia of IntSec, that, and the sight
of Anizar pale and shaken beside Ablegate Siod and more security
personnel,waiting at the palace entrance changed determination into dread.
All Bail could think, as Siod explained that the director of the Imperial
Safeguards Division visit was 'official', was that Aerolone had been captured
and his involvement with the Rebellion had been uncovered.
A lifetime of military discipline was the only thing that prevented the
churning fear in his stomach from becoming mad panic.
Siod stopped at the entrance to the throneroom; two guards took up position
beside it, the remaining pair accompanied the Viceroy into the vaulted chamber.
Late-day sunlight pooled on the inlaid floor, falling in brilliant shafts from
the transparent dome overhead. The throne itself was backlit by a single beam,
making it impossible to see the man who occupied it. He was but a moving shadow
as he spoke.
" Viceroy Organa," The faceless voice was raspy, nasal. " I must
inform you that this exchange is being recorded, by order of his Majesty the
Emperor."
Face set, the former monarch of Alderaan stopped before his own throne as the
Imperial rose to greet him.
The I.S.D. Director, once out of the glare, proved to be a sharp-faced, thin
lipped man wearing the black dress uniform of an Imperial officer. Obviously
the Empire's dreaded secret police,since it did not officially exist,had no
distinctive uniform.
" Bail Organa." The man continued,with a malevolent gleam in his
heavily lidded eyes," I am Sinilau,and it is with the condolences of our
Emperor that I must inform you of the death of your daughter-the
Princess-Senator Leia Organa, as well as all those aboard your consular ship,
Tantive IV which was hulled, and tragically destroyed by a freak meteor swarm in the
Tatooine system. A comprehensive investigation is underway."
" No..." Bail mumbled in shock and disbelief. " NO!"
" Pardon me?" Sinilau hissed. " If there is some doubt on your
part, I can arrange for you to view the remains. Visual identification may
prove difficult,however; entire corpses have not yet been reassembled."
" MY GOD, MAN !" Siod finally found his voice. " Have some
compassion!"
" God?" Sinilau sneered. " PALPATINE is your 'god', and he says
she is DEAD! To question him is treason, punishable by death!"
" I demand proof." Bail managed through clenched teeth.
" As any father would." Sinilau seemed pleased by his defiance;a
malicious smile tugged at his lips as he withdrew something from a belt
compartment and held it up to the light.
"This subcutaneous identi-chip is damaged, but you will find that it is
recognizably the Senators."
The official Senatorial ID had been implanted above Leia's collarbone,it was
irrefutable proof of her identity and status as a governmental official; it
could only have been removed against her will-or after her death.
" I am so sorry, Bail." The Ablegate's sympathy was genuine, and he
expressed it despite the baleful glare from his superior.
Organa said nothing-felt nothing save for a consuming despair that ripped
through his soul. Shock-numbed,he stood staring at the glistening wafer in his
hand.
His beautiful, brave Leia was dead.
" Let it be noted that the Viceroy has acknowledged the notification and
has accepted the physical proof offered." Sinilau announced for the
holo-recorder. " There will be the traditional rites, of course? I shall
remain as his Majesty's representative, until they are concluded. Then, we
shall determine the nature of your daughters business in the Tatooine
system."
With a nod and a smirk, Sinilau motioned for Siod to follow and strode from the
throneroom with his guard.
Anizar and the palace guard,waiting in the corridor, hurried to the Viceroy
after the Imperial's departure.
Sinilau took his time walking toward his shuttle. There was one last thing he
anticipated. Ah, yes! There it was!
Organa screamed his daughter's name, just once, and the howl disappeared into
the perfumed air.
It was....enough. Sinilau smiled.
It had taken Jurac and Ridaught only minutes, both had remained at the
government complex awaiting word on the Imperial visit.
Neither was surprised to hear the worst from Tarrik, the court attendant.
Imperials never brought good news, and disaster of some kind had always been a
real possibility given the nature of Alliance covert activity.
As Minister of State, it would be Nea Jurac's job to break the news of the
Tantivie's loss to the rest of the High Court. As well as the Viceroy's brother and
sister when they arrived.
Ridaught proceeded immediately to his duty-confirmation of the data chip
provided by Sinilau ( despite the fact that the Viceroy accepted it as the
Princess') and establishing contact with Aerolone Mothma. Direct communication with the Alliance fleet was always dangerous, and Ridaught knew that with Sinilau on planet Imperial detection was even more likely than usual. But the Alliance President HAD to be informed.
Ridaught activated the FDHD/L comm unit, a rebel designed system that allowed
contact between Alliance ships while in hyperspace. Only Alderaan, and the main
rebel base, had fixed units. Operating the complex device expertly, Ridaught transmitted all data relating
to the Tantive, and Alderaan's status in a single microburst.
His second line of communication involved a complicated relay system,
utilizing dozens of secure contacts throughout the galaxy. It was slow, but
reliable, succeeding in two hours as a rule.
What Ridaught had no way of knowing was that all transmissions from Alderaan
were being jammed by the already approaching Deathstar.
Neither did the Imperials stationed there.
After the scream the throneroom was eerily silent.
The Alderaanians froze, unsure of how to react at the sight of the
Viceroy-hands covering his face - weeping.
" Get the court physician." The aide murmured to the nearest guard
before attempting to help the distraught Viceroy to a chair.
" No." Organa blurted, sliding his hands from his tear-stained face.
" Summon my family,Anizar; and assemble the Court. The Tantive has been
destroyed, there were no survivors."
" God." Anizar's eyes went wide; gasps and muttered curses rose from
the palace staff that had gathered at the doorway. Bail Organa moved slowly to
a low couch.
"Ekinna Antilles must be notified before the official announcement; go
with the Guardsmens Amtenant, Anizar. Now, leave me, please."
Dabbing at his own brimming eyes, Anizar brushed quickly past a lone droid who
remained after the humans began to drift off.
" Your Majesty?" The Princess personal attache hesitated, reluctant
to intrude, but driven by anxiety that overwhelmed every other directive. She
stepped several paces forward. "If Ara no longer exists, I do not wish to
continue."
" I understand Vi," The Viceroy responded softly. The gentle voice
of the manumitted droid only amplified his pain.
" As much as one of my kind can,I loved her." The mechanical
finished softly.
" She knew, Vi." Bail's voice trembled as he turned his face away.
" I only wish I had told her more often that I did."
Anizar was enroute to the Antilles home at Sjova when the ministers began
arriving at the palace.
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