The Sandtrooper's Story - Part II (Fan Fiction WIP)

[Tyranus]

Or just sell it to the 501st members only.

I'm not sure how that would work legally. I would be all for it if it were possible. Does anyone know the legal implications of selling a book that uses canon LFL characters to the 501st only? I would also have to have someone render images for it or sketch something up myself, as many of the images were "FOUND" images after scouring the web for just the right fit.

I'm still reading the end of the first part and love it so far.

Thanks so much. I have really enjoyed writing it. It was started in the Fall of 2005 on a whim as a fictional backstory for our small local band of sandtroopers (The 104th Moisture Farm Patrol). Each of us created a personal bio and persona, and I took them and began writing. 5 pages became 10, and that became 30, and it just kept snowballing.

It's a fun spin on the story we all know like the backs of our hands - from a fresh perspective, and one we can all relate to as Sandtroopers. I hope to carry it through the timeline of ROTJ.

[Tyranus]

Here's a bit more:

Carlist Rieekan, unable to sleep, quietly walked the darkened ice halls of the steadily enlarging Rebel Base under his command. He mentally took stock of cargo crates and equipment as he passed by in the dim corridors. Even in the still, quiet of the early morning hour, the energy in the air was palpable. All who had come together here to fight for freedom now had a common, more imminent direction. Survival.

It was his responsibility for their survival that kept sleep elusive. Much of the equipment from Yavin IV had been salvaged and would be put to use here. He nodded silently to the armed guard he passed as he turned and stepped through sliding blast doors into the main ground-level hangar. The pain in his knee was worse here, in all this cold and he stopped to rub the stiffening joint a bit before continuing on.

The battle-worn X-wing fighters of Rogue Squadron lined the left wall; each of them individual, distinctive and unique, like the pilots who flew them. Far too many of both had been lost in the Battle of Yavin. Those ships and pilots that returned either safely and whole or limping and shattered, now led the squadron.

His thoughts drifted back to Yavin as he glanced across to the other side of the hangar. The wall of the right side sported only empty alcoves waiting to hold each of the many Incom T-47 airspeeders on order.

He shook his head in frustration as he crossed through the majestic silence of the cavernous room, heading for the other side, watching the icy ground below through his fogging breath. Even the simplest of purchases seemed to take forever to complete. Many layers of people had to be in place to buffer the manufacturers from their true customer. At this stage of the game they couldn’t be too careful.

He noted the jaggedly cut openings for the turbo lift cluster, and walked over to inspect them. There were two small lifts for personnel, and a much larger one for moving small ships and supplies to what would become the lower levels of the base. Placing a gloved hand on the ice of the rough door frame, he leaned out, taking a look down. Twenty meters below, an ice cutter sat motionless at what was currently the bottom of the shaft. It silently waited for its operator and the task of burrowing ever deeper into the solid ice.

As he pulled his head back out of the shaft and walked out into one of the many hallways snaking through the ice, he thought of the reactor that would soon reside far below. They needed power, not for the base itself. That would require a huge power generator. The reactor that would go below was needed to power one of the two V-150 Anti-Orbital Ion Cannons they had “liberated” from the Empire. The Intelligence had been absolutely accurate, and they had been very, very lucky. A smile crossed his face as he thought of the strike team that hijacked the Imperial transport ship just outside the Kuat Drive Yards.

A second team had been working on the reactor issue. Scoring free Ion Cannons was great, but if you didn’t have a power source, they were all so much durasteel and permacite.

In the wake of Alderaan’s destruction, many ships were destroyed or damaged as a result of the new, uncharted debris field. Shortly after securing the cannons, the intelligence sources located a damaged and abandoned Praetor-class battle cruiser adrift amidst the asteroid field which was unmanned and slated for salvage. With the help of multiple technical teams, the ships’ reactors had been removed for the sole purpose of powering the new Cannons.

He would feel much better once their defenses were up and running. Having Mon Mothma present was a huge boost for the morale of the troops, but a huge security risk at the same time. Keeping the majority of Alliance command constantly moving on the ships of the fleet was the best idea for now. Her being in one place was risky.

The dark corridor he was in finally emptied into a huge natural cave in which several transport ships floated on their repulsors. He made his way to the command ship and entered through a port in its belly. As he did, he saw his aide rushing toward him.

“General, I’ve been looking for you.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Rieekan.

“Nothing immediate, sir, but we received a piece of intelligence from one of our Bothan spies that you need to see.”

The aide produced a datapad. He entered a security code, opened the image and handed the pad over. “Apparently we didn’t get everyone we had hoped at the Battle of Yavin.”

Rieekan looked down at the image of Vader’s damaged ship being guarded and undergoing repairs.

“****.”

* * *

[Sands]

I love SW books so I will be looking forward to every page you write. Thanks for doing this for us.

I'm not sure how that would work legally. I would be all for it if it were possible. Does anyone know the legal implications of selling a book that uses canon LFL characters to the 501st only? I would also have to have someone render images for it or sketch something up myself, as many of the images were "FOUND" images after scouring the web for just the right fit.

Thanks so much. I have really enjoyed writing it. It was started in the Fall of 2005 on a whim as a fictional backstory for our small local band of sandtroopers (The 104th Moisture Farm Patrol). Each of us created a personal bio and persona, and I took them and began writing. 5 pages became 10, and that became 30, and it just kept snowballing.

It's a fun spin on the story we all know like the backs of our hands - from a fresh perspective, and one we can all relate to as Sandtroopers. I hope to carry it through the timeline of ROTJ.

[Tyranus]

You're welcome!

More will come.

[Tyranus]

Through thick fog that saturated the jungle-like vegetation around them as well as any exposed skin, Luke and Leia pushed onward through the darkness. As they passed through a dense twenty foot tall barrier of thick grasses, they found themselves stepping out onto gridded durasteel plates lining the main street of a small collection of buildings.

Luke grabbed Leia around the waist, covered her mouth and shoved her back into the thick grass, a finger to his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. A second later, the dark form of a man wandered past them, staggering a bit. His boot landed unevenly on the edge of the durasteel plate, half on and half off, and he stumbled and fell into the thick mud of the street.

The man, now laughing at himself for falling, wore a heavy jumpsuit. He picked himself up, wiping at the mud a bit before giving up and wandering off into the night.

When he had been gone some time, Luke loosened his grip on the Princess and uncovered her mouth. “That was close.”

She rubbed her mouth and adjusted her clothing. “That guy’s a miner of some sort. Did you see his jumpsuit? Standard issue mining gear.”

Luke glanced over to her. “Spending a lot of time in the mines, Princess?”

She threw a handful of the mud at him, which he managed to duck away from. “My father took me on trips when I was a little girl. He had business dealings with many mining colonies across the galaxy, and those are standard mining jumpsuits.”

Luke looked down the deserted street as he rolled her comment over in his head. “I wonder what they’re mining here, on Mimban?”

With a start, Luke awoke in the cockpit of his fighter.

Through the canopy, he saw the swirling multi-colored vortex of hyperspace streak by. With R2 in control of the hyperspace jump, and the whistling whine of the engines he must have dropped off to sleep.

His little astromech gave a whistle through the comm and sent a message to the screen on the panel before him. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the small display.

On Course - Approaching the Hoth System

The details of his dream were already slipping away, and he had to fight to recall even the smallest of things about it. “Mimban? Why would I dream about Mimban?”

As he pondered the bizarre dream, R2 reverted to sub-light speed. As the ship slowed to normal space, Luke saw a band of asteroids orbiting ahead, with several planets beyond.

R2 dispatched another message:

Asteroid field course plotted.

Scanning assigned frequencies for Echo Base signal

A tone sounded in the cockpit and another panel winked on showing a course leading to the sixth planet in the system as well as a scrolling loop of the ground coordinates.

Luke yawned. “R2, get us through the asteroids, and then I’ll take it back on manual for the approach.”

The little ‘droid bleeped several times as the snub fighter raced into the asteroids.

* * *

[Tyranus]

Buried deeply in the bowels of Imperial Center, Emperor Palpatine, his ravaged face obscured by the deep hood of his deathly black robes, slowly moved along a lengthy, secured corridor flanked by his two most trusted Imperial Guards.

As he came to the locked blast door at the end, each of the crimson-armored and robed guards, as they had done many times before, stepped to the side and assumed sentry positions at either side, Force pikes shouldered.

The warped and bent figure of the Emperor entered a private code and straightened up a bit as the heavy doors slid open. Musty air spilled from within as they did.

He stepped through into the darkness beyond, leaving his guards behind as the doors slipped shut. Lights flickered on as he entered the large room; the air here was still, unmoving as the air of a tomb. There was absolute silence.

He slowly made his way across the illuminated frosted-white floor, moving between the suspended Carbonite slabs that made up his garden. He moved silently past the many grotesque metallic faces, frozen in silent screams of anguish, pain, surprise and disbelief and made his way to his throne in the center of the room. It was here that he came to meditate, ruminate and peer into the future. He sat slowly into the low, swiveling chair and took in a breath, closing his eyes.

Everything was proceeding as he had foreseen.

Lord Vader had once been one of the most powerful Jedi that ever lived, but with his defeat on Mustafar, and subsequent surgeries to replace human limbs with cybernetic appendages, his grasp on the Force had been diminished. The short-lived time he spent in those first few hours as Lord Vader were the heady, power-filled moments that Palpatine had envisioned for his apprentice.

He knew now that while Lord Vader was indeed still powerful, there was another that would eventually take his place. One whose existence he had already sensed in his apprentice.

This would take careful manipulation, but if played properly, Lord Vader would believe he had concealed his feelings for his son, and eventually, young Luke would be the powerful apprentice Palpatine had hoped for in Vader. The Dark Lord must not yet be allowed to know that he was aware of Skywalker’s existence. That would come soon enough. For now, Vader must be the one to tirelessly search for his son, sending out probes and tearing the galaxy apart, all the while believing that one day, they might destroy his master and rule the galaxy together.

As the twisted figure of the Emperor opened his eyes, he pressed a small switch in the armrest of his chair. The electric charge in the frost-white electrostatic floor suddenly fell away, and the thick transparisteel panels became clear. Palpatine stood, taking a few steps forward, peering down through to the uneven, rocky floor beneath.

It was littered with hundreds and hundreds of Jedi corpses as far as the eye could see. Every Jedi that had been rounded up and executed by his men and bounty hunters through the years had been brought here. It was an amazing rush for him to peer down at them, literally lying vanquished beneath him.

An evil smile crept into the corners of his mouth, exposing his rotting teeth, as he wandered this way and that, surveying the price they had paid for their lack of vision

* * *

[Dutch Dirty Trooper]

What can i say again bro ?! Just a awesome story ! And again i say...I WANNA HAVE A HARDCOVER !

I can't say it enough..you really have awesome writing skills and keep up the very good work bro !

Grtz RAY

[Tyranus]

Thanks very much.

Old Palpy is an evil son of a gun. I just pictured all the bloodied, sliced, blasted bodies stored below the floor in a vacuum-fresh room to keep them from rotting, but I saw him loving it so much and getting such a twisted sicko thrill, like a serial killer keeping a trophy from his kills, giving him a rush and a dark side surge when he comes to meditate.

More is coming. I just have to wade through mentally how I want and need it to progress to get us to all the cool stuff I have in store.

Thanks for reading!

[Tyranus]

Both Yané and his first mate slept in the two crew bunks as Solo monitored their flight path from the relative comfort of the pilot’s seat. He adjusted the course heading slightly to avoid the wide band of dense asteroids ahead. The muffled roar of the ‘Falcon’s engines was usually a comforting sound for him, but did little to reassure him as they entered the Hoth system. He glanced to the side, out the cockpit window.

There was now enough money now to pay off the Hutt, and he was anxious to do so. He knew Jabba. He wasn’t patient. There would be bounty hunters and lots of them, along with all manner of unpleasant things awaiting him if he didn’t make the payoff soon. His words to Luke echoed in his ears. “What good’s a reward if you ain’t around to use it?”

The one thing that calmed him at all was the fact that he was headed for a rendezvous on a planet that was about as far away from hospitable as he could imagine. Bounty hunters would be looking for him in his familiar haunts along the established trade routes that stretched from one side of the galaxy to the other. Never in a million years would they even think to look on Hoth.

After his involvement at Yavin, and whether or not he believed in their cause or was just intrigued by a beautiful Princess, he was now definitely on the Imperial radar, most likely with a death mark on both his and Chewbacca’s heads. For the moment, it seemed, Jabba was the least of his immediate worries.

They would have to lay low for a while, help out if they could, and stay hidden among the rebels until he could figure out a way to get the money to Jabba without getting himself killed along the way. Maybe he’d be able to get some time with her worshipfulness. He wasn’t positive, but he felt deep down that although she wouldn’t admit it, she liked him, in a perverse, cat and mouse, moth to the flame kind of way.

It was always something.

An amber indicator on the panel winked, showing that they were in the upper fringes of the atmosphere on Hoth 6. He reached up to the overhead control panels and switched on the beacon responder, the repulsors and hull de-ionization as he took the forward and lateral controls in his hands, flying his custom ship down toward the darkened surface rendezvous coordinates. The Hoth star was on the far side of the planet; it was early morning on the ground as they raced through the rocking winds. The metal skin of the ship groaned as the extremely cold air clashed with the heat of their re-entry.

Han leveled off just shy of the ground, skimming along the snowy, frozen landscape beneath. He flew by instruments now, as it was too hard, even with the forward floodlights on, to make out where the ground was. Just ahead on the port side, a small meteor with a crimson tail flashed by, slamming into the icy ground beneath.

Chewbacca wandered into the cockpit with a small growl, settling sleepily in the co-pilot’s chair and pulling on his headset. He tried to raise the base communications officer as he stretched his arms out overhead. He grunted at Solo as the base acknowledged their approach. Yané walked in a moment later, quietly slipping into the seat behind Solo’s and pulling a wrap around her shoulders as she peered out into the darkness and the ice-covered ground below.

From the ground, a rebel scout rider, out on his morning patrol, reined his Tauntaun mount to a stop as he monitored the base-to-ship communications and silently watched the warm glow of the Millennium Falcon’s engines slip slowly by in the darkness.

* * *

[Tyranus]

Everyone in the room was silent for a moment as Holder stared off blankly into space.

“Black Sun?” asked Topolev.

Holder nodded slowly, still staring at the logo. “Yeah.”

Topolev took the datacard from Holder’s hand, examining it as Etz and Danz moved closer to look also. “I’ve heard of them, but what’s the big deal if your squad had dealings with them? They’re into everything, legal and otherwise. Given the smugglers and spacers that hang around here, it’s not all that surprising they would be on Tatooine.”

Holder was in a bit of a daze. Memories were flashing by so quickly he couldn’t seem to get them to gel into a cohesive thought. He closed his eyes. “Yeah, I know. But there’s more to it than just a deal, I just can’t put my finger on what it is yet. Were there any other cards in there marked Black Sun?”

Topolev looked back into the container, reaching a hand down inside, sifting through the few cards at the bottom of the bin. “No. That looks like the only one.”

“Let me see it again?” Holder asked.

Topolev handed it over.

He took the small card between his thumb and index finger and walked over to the holo card viewer were Felth had been sitting. He inserted it in the reader slot and waited for the automatic index scan to finish. A moment passed and the Black Sun logo finally flashed up on the small screen. As it faded away, the first page of what looked like a business invoice began to appear on the screen, and then froze, pixelating into cubes; the image jumping and stuttering.

Topolev had dumped the last of the items in the container out on the shelf and picked through them, and was now glancing over to Holder. “Is there anything interesting on it? Anything that jogs your memory?”

Holder grabbed the protruding edge of the card and wiggled it a bit in the slot to make sure it was properly seated, “Looks like it’s either corrupted or damaged. I can’t see much.” He stared at the flickering screen, trying to make out something, anything. He pulled the card out of the slot, rubbed the strip of metallic contacts, looked them over closely, and slid the card back into the reader.

Blade and I walked over to stand beside him, watching the screen. The others in the room followed, hoping to perhaps be able to make out anything intelligible.

The index scan ran a second time and the Black Sun logo appeared again. Once again, as the page appeared, it froze; pixelating into distorted cubes.

Blade leaned forward, touching the lower portion of the screen with his gloved hand, “It looks like this part says something about a project bid of some kind.”

The lift out in the hallway began its’ descent down to where we were as Etz noted, “This area at the top shows the recipients.” He leaned even closer. “That first name looks like Masall or Matall, but the rest of it is garbled.”

“Matalla the Hutt.” said Holder, calmly and quite matter-of-factly.

“Matalla the Hutt?” asked 1265.

Holder nodded slowly. “Yup. I have no recollection of who that is yet, or why I remember it, but it’s significant. I can feel it.” The rest of us exchanged silent glances as Holder continued staring at the flickering name on the screen.

Just then, Felth stepped through the door, “Hey. We’ve got to get moving. Rogue’s message said he needs us all out at Darklighter Water. There’s been an incident near one of their perimeter condensers; Tuskens most likely.”

Etz rolled his eyes, “Why does he need all of us?”

Ddraig appeared in the doorway and stepped up beside Felth, “There’s a body, and it’s not one of their workers.”

I shot a glance to Topolev, who was already climbing down off the racks, “Can you get the transport fired up?”

He nodded, “Already on my way.”

Blade pushed past me heading for the lift, “OK, let’s get our gear. Topolev, we’ll meet you out back. Etz, comm over to 4120 and Falker at the Dowager Queen working that domestic call. Let them know where we're going”

“I’m on it” replied Etz.

Danz slapped a hand on Holder’s shoulder as the others filed out to the lift, “You coming?”

Holder looked up at him, then away at the dingy stone wall. “Yeah. It’s been a while, but it’ll just take a second to gear up.”

*

[Dutch Dirty Trooper]

Again...just superwork and writing bro !! Can we make a pre-order for the hardcover version ?!!

I know i've said it many times but you really have awesome writing skills....SUPER !!!

Thanks bro.

Grtz RAY

[Tyranus]

Thank you very much.

When I have a sign up for a hardcover version, you'll be first on the list!

[Dutch Dirty Trooper]

Thank you very much.

When I have a sign up for a hardcover version, you'll be first on the list!

Wooohoo..now that would be very awesome bro !

Many thanks for this,

RAY

[Tyranus]

Just outside the entrance to the ice hangar, in the darkest, still hour of the pre-dawn, Luke Skywalker sat cross-legged on the deck of one of the snow-covered ice diggers. He was one of only a handful awake at this hour. Security guards monitored every entrance to the base and several mounted riders patrolled the perimeter.

Despite the bite of the cold, beads of perspiration formed across his brow as he concentrated intensely with eyes closed, listening to the calm voice emanating from the small holocron in his lap, “Feel the shape, texture and energy of each object. Now feel the energy in every particle of the air and the ground, as well as that of your own body. Remember to breathe, young one.” The image of a young Obi-Wan flickered above the small cube.

The boy took in a small breath, eyes clenched shut.

The crisp morning air became unnaturally still as the flurry of falling and blowing snowflakes swirling around him halted suddenly in midair, hanging on all sides. They sparkled and glistened in the brilliant moonlight of the morning, hanging in the clear air as Luke opened his eyes slightly. He closed them again as he reached out with the Force, seeing each flake with his mind.

A solid roof of snow was now collecting above him, as the still-falling snow began piling up on top of the small space he had rendered stationary. The weight of the collecting flakes began to increase. It pressed against his fledgling Force energy, increasing with intensity, like a weight testing the strength of a tiring muscle. He took another breath as the hovering flakes began to tremble in the air. Clenching his teeth, he pressed outward and upward with all of his Force energy. The Midichlorians in his veins burned as he reached out through them to feel and manipulate this tiny portion of the Force.

It was at that moment that the Corellian stock light freighter appeared out of the darkness, passing by on its way to rendezvous with the other ships of the fleet.

The suspended snowflakes and the collected layer of snow above suddenly came falling down over him as Luke lost concentration. He brushed the loose snow off his head and out from around his collar as his eyes followed the bluish white light of the engines on Han Solo’s Millennium Falcon.

“That’s another one I owe you” he muttered.

* * *

[Tyranus]

There was a crowd of shabbily dressed, weather-worn men and women pushing and shoving around the base of a lone ‘vaporator out by the garage as we drew closer to the main building at the Darklighter place.

Topolev slowed the transport to a smooth stop, and we all jumped down from the open tailboard. Holder jumped down behind me, looking over at the small group as he adjusted his dated and ill-fitting commando armor on his now-smaller frame. I stopped a condenser mechanic walking by to ask about the crowd. “What’s their story?”

He looked over to them, then back to me. “Them? They’re outcasts, vagrants. They live in the caves over there beyond the ridge” he said, squinting and pointing. “in Beggar’s Canyon. They need water and have no money, so old man Darklighter lets them work small day jobs in exchange for it.”

Some movement behind me caught his eye, and he looked away from me for just a moment, then back to me. “Sorry, I have to get to work.” And he walked away, throwing a heavy tool belt over his shoulder.

As he did, Holder and I turned to see what his distraction had been. Darklighter and a small entourage were descending a steep set of stairs from the main house. It was a sprawling, bleached-white complex of buildings in sharp contrast against the dark blue sky.

Rogue stepped out in front of us as Huff Darklighter waved off his followers and closed the distance between the bottom step and us. “Thank you for coming so quickly. One of my workers discovered the body when he went out to reset an alarm on one of the condensers.”

“You said it’s not one of your men?” He nodded his helmet slightly as the tiny speakers issued a slight burst of static.

Now it was Huff’s turn to nod, “That’s right.”

“One of them?” asked Rogue, turning and dipping his head in the direction of the crowd collecting water.

Huff shook his head, and turned to move away from the main building with Rogue following. “No, it’s not one of them. Not one I’ve ever seen anyway.”

The rest of us followed a few steps behind, keeping an eye on the vagrants and Darklighter’s men.

“We’ll need to see the body.”

Huff nodded. “Of course. It’s been undisturbed, and is being watched where it was found at the condenser out near the perimeter of our collection fields.”

“We have plenty of room in our transport, if you’ll just have one of your men help with the navigation.”

Topolev turned and double-timed it back to the transport. The rest of us followed, with two of Darklighter’s men joining us.

*

[Tyranus]

The main buildings of Darklighter water had long since disappeared beyond the rippling waves of heat along the horizon as Topolev finally let up on the thrust and steered us toward the next condenser.

With the afternoon now rapidly fading, we all jumped from the tailboard of the slowing transport.

Huff Darklighter and his men stepped down once it had come to a full stop. As he approached Rogue he spoke. “Vehuji, Hessio. Show them.”

A slight wind kicked up, blowing a light haze of sand across the ground as the two men walked ahead toward the ‘vaporator. Both wore coverall jumpsuits bearing the Darklighter Water company logo. One had black hair, the other brown. Rogue, 0600 and 4120 followed as Topolev stepped down to the sand, joining us the rest of us.

Vehuji and Hessio, now a good ten meters ahead of the group, reached the draped body first. The man standing guard stepped back a few paces as Darklighter, Rogue and 4120 approached. Vehuji and Hessio were both now kneeling in the sand in the long shadow of the condenser. They gently pulled back the covering, exposing the victim.

The sprawled body was face down, and that of a simple man wearing loose-fitting desert clothing common to the region. He wore a hood and face drape in an attempt to block exposure to the damaging suns rays.

Darklighter nodded, "Vehuji?”

The black-haired man beside the body reached down under and rolled the corpse over onto its back, then pulled aside the face drape. Although closed, the victim’s eyes were noticeably deep-set and recessed. He had a leathery, weather-worn face full of pronounced creases, and a full, snow-white beard. His wrists had each been tied with leather straps and his arms crisscrossed over his belly. The straps continued from each wrist around behind him and were tied tightly in back to the strap from the other wrist.

4120 dropped to one knee in the sand to get a closer look. He pulled back the face wraps a bit more, revealing an old, healed scar that ran from the man’s ear down across his neck to the collarbone on the opposite side. It was a horrible looking thing, from what must have been an equally horrible injury.

Vehuji had been looking at the pouches on the man’s belt. “All of his belt pouches are open and empty. Whoever did this removed any identification.”

Rogue leaned down, “**** that’s a mean scar.”

The rest of us were standing behind, gathered in a group looking down at the unfortunate victim. Holder was beside me still working on adjusting a stubborn strap when he glanced over and caught sight of the old man’s face. “Let me see that scar?”

Rogue turned his head to Holder and moved to one side.

Holder bent down, and dropped to one knee, his eyes staring intently. He reached out with his finger and traced the path of the scar from the ear to the collarbone across the wrinkled old skin. “Can you untie him? I need to see his left hand.”

Vehuji nodded as he went to work on the knot of leather.

Holder was perspiring a bit more than the rest of us as he leaned a little closer, and cut his eyes to 4120. “If I’m right about this, he’s missing the index finger from his left hand.”

The knot finally came loose, and Vehuji unwrapped the bindings from both hands. “There’s a scar on his left hand across the base of the left index finger, but it’s still intact.”

Holder reached out and touched the finger, then grabbed the skin of the digit tight and yanked hard away from the hand. In a flurry of movement, 4120 grabbed holder’s wrist and Rogue grabbed his shoulder struggling with him. “What the **** are you doing?”

There was a horrible ripping sound as the skin tore at the scar and slipped off the finger. In the fiery glow of the late Tatooine afternoon, the removed skin revealed a gleaming mechanical prosthetic finger.

Rogue and 4120 let go of the Commando and stared at the hand.

Holder’s eyes grew wide.

“Watcher!”

* * *

[Dutch Dirty Trooper]

Thanks again bro ! Just awesome !

Grtz RAY

[Tyranus]

The crowd in the darkened square erupted in a frenzy of screaming people running in all directions, dropping their lanterns and signs. All were trying to avoid the flurry of uncoiling blue-ringed stun rays and tear gas fired by several squads of Stormtroopers that poured out of an adjacent alley in full riot gear. Toryn Farr was one of those people running, in the middle of everything, hoping to find someone to connect her with the Rebellion.

She had wandered aimlessly through the city here on Talasea for some time trying to find a likely rebel contact and having no luck. It was mid afternoon earlier today in a moment of doubt, just as she began to fear she would never make the contacts needed, that the flyer for the protest had blown across her path on the street. COME PROTEST ALDERAAN!! was printed in bold across the top of the flimsy.

Coming tonight had been a long shot, but she hoped to perhaps find a contact, a beginning, a stepping off point to begin her journey. She vehemently protested Alderaan’s destruction and figured kindred spirits, if not rebels, would be present tonight.

Crimson blaster fire exploded out of the crowd now, firing back at the troopers, dropping several of them to the ground. Those that were running away from them panicked even more now, as the stakes had just been raised. One of the Stormtroopers fired up his backpack in the middle of the crowd, lifted several meters into the night air and began firing indiscriminately into the crowd. Those who were hit fell and were trampled by the stampeding crowd.

In the violent pushing and shoving of the bodies in the crowd, Toryn felt someone grab her wrist, pulling her out of the way just as a volley of blaster fire took out several people where she had been standing. She pushed a woman out of her way as she fought to see who had grabbed her only to see . . . no one. Looking quickly down to her hand and saw a young boy pleading with his frightened face and eyes for her to continue following him out of the square.

A blaster bolt sizzled past, and the man running behind her was hit in the shoulder, falling with all his weight into her, grabbing her shoulders and clothing, trying to keep himself on his feet. She was terrified as she looked back at him and the smoking blaster in his hand. Her terror quickly shifted to resolve as several more blasts burned by. Toryn reached down, grabbed the wounded man’s good arm, threw it around her neck and lifted him up, grabbed his blaster and ran with her added burden as best she could, following the running boy.

Suddenly, from out of the sky, a trooper with a backpack landed in front of the running boy, his weapon drawn. The boy skidded to a stop, falling down and backpedaling on the ground, looking up in terror at the stormtrooper. Without thinking, Toryn raised the blaster in her free hand and squeezed the trigger several times, blasting the trooper dead center in the chest, throwing him off his feet to the ground. Smoke curled from his chest as she moved forward to help the boy up.

They quickly made a sharp turn into a darkened side street just as a bolt crashed into the corner of the building, shattering it and spewing dust and debris across their backs. They ran, making their way down the winding street, until the boy beckoned for them to follow him into a bar. He opened the door and disappeared inside as the injured man finally lost consciousness, his weight now pulling harder on her, threatening to pull them both down to the street.

She fought to drag him closer to the door as two men appeared in the opening and hurried over to help. They lifted his weight from her, and rushed Toryn inside, quickly closing the door behind. It was a small place, with only one patron quietly sitting at a table with his drink. As he saw them burst through the door, he jumped to his feet and hurried ahead of them, opening the door to the back room.

The boy raced to the door, locking it as the bartender shut off the lights, “SHHHH! Don’t make a sound.”

Toryn, the wounded man and the others slipped into the back room followed by the boy. The bartender stood at the door, his ear pressed to it listening. He heard the clammering footsteps of others fleeing the square as they raced down the street. He heard the ZING of several blaster bolts sizzling past. Then, there were a few moments of silence followed by the clattering of the troopers boots, running after them.

“They went that way. Move it!"

A short burst of blaster fire cut the silence of the street outside.

"They’re getting away. Squad two, move in. We’re going to corner them two blocks over, in the alley. Roger that. Coordinate efforts to . . . . ”

The sounds began to fade, and finally silence returned on the dark street outside.

The bartender stepped cautiously away from the door and walked behind the bar through the door to the back room. The young boy sat watching the three men as they worked in flickering candlelight on the injury. Toryn sat in the corner, shaking and looking down at the blaster now cradled in her lap. “When will this kind of thing stop?”

The boy looked to the bartender, who moved next to her, sat down and put an arm around her. “Not soon enough for any of us, that’s for sure. Are you fed up too?”

Toryn looked over at him, nodding shakily. “I lost my entire family on Alderaan.”

He thought for a moment, watching his friend being worked on. “Are you prepared to sacrifice and do your part to make a change?”

Again she nodded, still catching her breath. “That’s why I was there tonight.” Still trying to be vague about her intentions.

He nodded, watching her. “You saved my friend. For that I’m grateful, and it’s clear you have no love for the Empire.” He dipped his head, indicating the blaster.

He looked in her eyes, sizing her up as he stroked his beard. “I have a friend that might be able to help you. He’ll need to talk with you more to make the final decision, but if you’re looking for a way to make a difference with the resistance, tonight missy is your lucky night.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

Holder rocked back off his knee and sat in the sand. He lowered the commando helmet in his left hand to the ground beside him as he stared into Watcher’s face, flashes and bits of memories racing before his eyes. He blinked twice and shook his head to clear them away.

“Who the **** is Watcher?” asked Rogue.

All eyes turned to Holder, whose eyes had now rolled back in his shaking head with a frothy foam forming on his lips.

“****” yelled 4120. “He’s convulsing!”

Hessio tore off his leather belt and quickly forced a section of it between Holder’s clenching teeth as Rogue and 4120 fought to hold his arms down.

“Grab his legs” said 0600. He and I each grabbed one, struggling against his flailing limbs, but holding them down firmly.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Huff.

Felth replied, turning to him, “Extended carbonite containment. Whoever Watcher is, seeing him must have triggered memories or something that was disconnected along the way.”

Suddenly, the clenched jaws relaxed and Holder began babbling something. Hessio pulled the leather strap out of his mouth and we tried to listen.

His eyes were now looking up at the sky, over as he spewed his nonsense.

“08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. 08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. Into the belly of the beast we go, only to be revealed by the sands of time. Eroding sands of time. Belly of the beast. Belly of the Beast.”

Holder’s eyes were wider now as he continued his incoherent rant. “08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. No mistakes.”

Rogue turned to Etz, “Get the med kit from the transport and sedate him now that the seizure is over. We need to get him back to the doctor in Bestine.”

Etz nodded, turning and racing toward the transport.

“I have a staff physician back at my home. I would be more than happy for him to see your man” offered Huff.

“Thanks, but the doc in Bestine is the one who treated him when he came out of carbon freeze. He knows the history and has the medical records. We need to get him back there for evaluation” said Falker.

As Etz returned and began preparing the sedative injection gun, Rogue turned to Topolev, “Bag that other guy. We’ll need to look him over closer and see if the doc can use him to trigger more memories and try and make sense of these ramblings.”

Topolev nodded, motioning to Danz and Ddraig for help. “Come on, let’s get this guy loaded.”

The man who had been standing guard over the body moved out of their way, as did Hessio and Vehuji. Hessio was busy staring at the bite marks that almost went completely through his thick belt.

Topolev went back to the transport and circled it around between our ‘vaporator and the neighboring one, backing the tailboard in closer to where the body lay. Ddraig and Danz lifted the body and placed it gently on the floor in the speeder.

When they turned back to the group, Etz was re-capping the sedative injection gun, putting it back in the med kit. A moment later, Holder’s eyes slowly closed and his body went limp.

Rogue looked up to the rest of us. “OK, let’s get him loaded. Easy!”

We all helped lift him into the back of the transport, lowering him to one of the bench seats.

Darklighter, Hessio, Vehuji and the guard all boarded as well. Once they were settled, Topolev throttled up and headed back to the Darklighter estate.

A wisping wind kicked up as our transport headed for the horizon. Sand was sprayed lightly in small gusts against the base of the ‘vaporator where Watcher’s body had been.

As our speeder disappeared from sight, a small mound of sand near the adjacent condenser shifted slightly, moving and draining away revealing something hidden beneath. It peered out through twin lenses, watching us go.

When it felt we were far enough away, it lowered the macrobinoculars. An old man rose up from his belly where he had been lying, appearing from beneath a sand-covered fabric wrap.

He eyed the ground near the ‘vaporator where we had been, and then turned his head in our direction as he sipped a bit of water through a tube from a small, collapsible bladder. One ice blue eye squinted in the afternoon’s last blinding rays of sunslight as he stared in the direction we had gone.

“Into the belly of the beast we go.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

The words of the last reply still hung in the frigid air of the hangar between them. Mon Mothma thought carefully, selecting the words for her response. “While that may be true, these two things must occur simultaneously. First, mock reconn flights over densely vegetative planets similar to Yavin must begin immediately to divert attention away from our true location. Second, real reconn flights must also be under way to locate the next rendezvous point and base location.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but in the immediate future we have a number of trials to overcome before we can even finish this base. We don’t have the resources” stressed the Alderaanean Princess.

“Leia, so often when we speak, I see your father in your actions, and hear him in your words. Believe me, I know and understand your concerns. They are the same concerns he would have raised with me. This course of action will absolutely take resources we do not have to spare, and yet it must be done.”

The leader of the Alliance paced away a few steps, passing her quiet attendant, Alia before speaking again. “The bitter truth is that no matter how secretive or how careful we are, sooner or later the Empire will find us. When that happens is not the time to be scrambling looking for an escape route. It will be precisely at that moment that we need an emergency evacuation and rendezvous scenario in place that all personnel understand intimately and are ready to activate.”

She stopped a moment, looking over the plans for the ice base, her fingertip scanning across the page, coming to stop at a remote cavern removed from the base. “How are the permanent power generators coming along?”

Alia stepped aside as Leia moved closer. “Commander Skywalker is overseeing their installation. All components have finally been purchased and all but the final pieces have been transported here. I’m told if all goes well, and the shipments are on time, they should be online and functional within several days.”

Mon Mothma closed her eyes a moment, and smiled slightly, turning her head to Leia as she opened them. “Ahh yes, Commander Skywalker. We were certainly lucky to have him at Yavin; and a Force-sensitive as well.”

A surprised Leia turned to look her in the eye. “You know? We made a point not to tell anyone. If he is to be the first of the new Order . . . . ”

“Yes, I know, and no one told me anything. His secret is safe with me. Truthfully though, if what I’ve felt is accurate, he’s far more than a sensitive. Trust me, Leia, I’m no Jedi and my interests and undeveloped dabblings are far from mastery, but Force sensitivity has run in my family for generations. I feel Commander Skywalker has a great potential to lead us out of the darkness shrouding the glory that was the Republic. I feel he can lead us back to what we once were.”

Leia sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

As she spoke, the forward-mounted floodlights of the Millennium Falcon appeared out of the darkness as the YT-1300 freighter slipped past under the curving, natural ice arch into the enormous cavern and set down on her landing gear alongside several transport ships

Mon Mothma drew a shallow breath. “I have faith that he will.”

But even as she had faith in his naïve purity, Mon Mothma was terribly troubled and concerned as well. If her memory of his family name, and her intuition regarding the worn lightsaber hanging on the young Commander’s belt, and the dark history and lineage behind it was correct, Commander Skywalker was someone to watch closely.

*

[Tyranus]

“No.”

The Wook growled a throaty response.

“I know they need the work, but not right now.”

Chewbacca quietly grunted his disagreement from the co-pilot’s chair as he watched his captain shut down the Falcon’s various systems and leave the cockpit rubbing the bandage on his forehead.

The warm leather seat beneath the Wookiee’s furry body squeaked a bit as he shifted his weight. The hydraulic lines to the landing gear needed work badly. Even if the others didn’t need the repairs, the central landing claw was losing compression on a regular basis. He would have to steal the time to do the work when Solo was otherwise preoccupied.

He stood up as he saw Yané pass by. He fell in behind her and they silently followed Solo to the open main hatch and lowering boarding ramp. Han stepped out on it as it lowered, holding on to the framing, riding it down to the icy ground outside with a bump.

His frosty exhale floated in the crisp air as he noticed the chill and how underdressed they all were for the cold.

Leia Organa walked over from across the hangar. She was dressed in thermal gear, her hair in braids woven across the top of her head, her arms crossing as she stopped in front of him. “Security must be asleep. They’re letting anybody in here.”

A cocky, sarcastic Han wrinkled his brow up faking pain from the impact of her comment and locking eyes with her. “Whoa, your worshipfulness! Nice to see you too, princess.” He noticed the wisps of hair at each of her temples; her dark brown eyes.

Chewbacca howled a greeting and slipped past, grabbing the princess in a furry hug, lifting her off the ground slightly. Leia released the Wook as she noticed the woman stepping off the boarding ramp behind Han.

Yané stepped up beside the Corellian, dipping her head slightly. “I am Yané, retired royal handmaiden from Naboo.”

Leia’s eyes cut from Yané to Solo, then to Chewbacca and back to Yané as she dipped her head slightly in response. “Welcome.”

Han rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

“I bet. Why are you here? I thought you were off to take care of an old debt?” Her eyes questioned his presence here as much as her voice did.

He grinned a moment, then it faded. “So did I.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

As the tissue on the slide plate gradually came into focus, the frosty, rigid skin of the desert corpse finally began to give up its secrets. Doctor Shurte’s strong, thick fingers gently adjusted the knobs on the magnifier back and forth a bit as he peered in through the eyepiece, bushy eyebrows hanging wildly over the top. His nose whistled slightly as he breathed in and out.

To look at him out of this setting, one might have thought him to be a hermit or recluse. His nails were long, however well maintained; his beard was thick and bushy; his graying hair was long and pulled back in a braid running down between his shoulder blades.

Absently, he looked up from the eyepiece, scribbling a brief note on the sheet of flimsy beside him before returning to his scrutiny of the flesh sample, half whispering to himself. “Mirroring of cell structure, intact genetic code sequence, but with extra components, additional markers . . . .” He looked up from the sample, staring off across the room at nothing in particular, his mind rolling thoughts over slowly, carefully. More notes were hastily scrawled out before he stood from his stool and walked into the next room where the patient was.

More than a week had passed since Holder’s seizure at the condenser, and although he had briefly been lucid in the desert after spewing what seemed to be nonsense, he had unfortunately lost consciousness prior to his arrival here. He lay motionless on the bed, monitors silently supervising his vital signs.

Blade walked through the doorway from the front room, removing his helmet. “Doctor Shurte, how’s he doing?”

There was no response as the doctor scraped a small tissue sample from Holder’s arm.

“Doc?”

The physician looked up this time, glancing over to Blade as he emptied the collected tissue on a slide tray. “Hello.”

He looked back to Holder as he spoke. “Oh, him? He’s been through a lot, but I really expected him to be awake by now.”

He walked past Blade to the magnifier, exchanging the corpse’ slide with that displaying tissue gathered from Holder. Once again, his thick fingers moved over the adjustment knobs as he peered through the eyepiece, bushy eyebrows hanging wildly over the top.

Blade stepped closer. “So doc, got any idea why the corpse was so important to Holder, or what might have caused the convulsions?”

The physician stood up straight, looked him briefly in the eye and without a word, crossed to the far side of the room, to the morgue trays set into the wall. He passed four of the shiny metallic doors, opened the fifth and slid out a narrow metal tray with a draped body on top.

He pulled back the drape to reveal the body of the man Holder had identified only as Watcher. He looked down at the frozen body of the ragged, scarred old man as he spoke.

“I’m at a loss for the cause of the seizure. Given his history with the unusually long carbon freeze, it could be just about anything. There’s just no research on carbonite restraint of that length.”

At that moment a group of young men and women entered the room through a back door carrying small bags of equipment and supplies, shaking sand from their feet, unwrapping their heads and removing goggles and drapes from their faces. One of the woman was arguing with one of the men.

“All the evidence in the artifacts we have found so far points to a civilization going back several thousand years. If we have any hope of finding the graveyard, we need to move on it now. The Harvest is almost here, and then it’ll be Winter. If there was in fact a meteorite involved in the great Death we should be able to . . .”

All conversation stopped as they suddenly realized they weren’t alone. Doc Shurte stepped away from Blade to speak to them.

“I know you’ve not been here, but please use the front door from now on. I have a patient in here now.”

They nodded, quickly slipping through the door to the front part of the building. The doctor moved back to where Blade was.

“My apologies, they’re part of an archeological expedition from Balmorra that I’m hosting. Now, where was I.”

Blade watched as the doors swung shut behind them. “You were talking about his containment duration.”

He wagged his index finger in the air. “YES, of course, his containment! The seizure could truly have been from a number of things, but . . . what I do know is . . .”

He paused momentarily, making sure they were alone. He held a hand out, motioning at the corpse. “This man is a genetic duplicate of Holder. Watcher was a cloned Commando just like Holder, and from what I can tell, was from the same generation and incubation vat.”

*

[Tyranus]

Wedge Antilles briskly marched through the dimly-lit ice hallway toward the hangar bay. His pilot’s helmet was tucked firmly under one arm. His left boot was slightly tighter than his right; a little too tight for his liking, and he could feel the pulsing of his heartbeat in the leg where it cut into his skin. The day had just begun wrong, as it seemed to most every year on this date.

Distracted by his own thoughts, he quietly slipped through the crowd of technicians and pilots. The loud whirring and hum of ice cutters filled the massive room, mingling with the sound of voices and droids, all echoing off the frozen ice walls, but didn’t seem to penetrate Wedge’s ears. He was listening to the sounds of his memories.

His brow was furrowed in a thoughtful scowl as he walked across the grid plate pathway lying atop the ice floor, his mind racing with thoughts of his parents. He could vividly see the tanker pulling away from their starship depot with the fueling lines still attached. He felt the rocking blast concussion of the resulting explosion and saw the look of terror on their faces; their screams silenced by the blast door that separated them. He saw them burning . . .

Suddenly he resurfaced from the images projected in his minds’ eye as he reached his ship, stopping momentarily beneath the wide wings of the X-wing fighter, steadying himself against the extended landing gear.

He turned his attention to his ship, running a gloved hand over the durasteel skin of the wing overhead. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, exhaling forcefully as he opened them again, as if he could blow the memories and pain out with his expelled breath.

As he looked up, he caught sight of Luke and Captain Solo just entering from a corridor on the far side of the hangar, walking his way. He couldn’t make out who it was, but someone followed closely behind them.

He watched them as they threaded their way through the busy crowd, crossing the wide hangar, busily discussing something as they walked. Luke was dressed out in his pilot’s gear. Captain Solo wore the familiar, relaxed look Wedge had come to expect from him with the addition of a long-tailed thermal coat. The man who walked behind them also wore a flight suit and followed several steps behind Luke, careful to match the speed and gait of other man’s walk.

As they drew closer, he caught the tail end of their conversation.

“ . . . online as of this morning. The power distribution grid two levels down should go live within several days.”

Han nodded. “That’s great, kid. So as soon as the grid is hot, we can power the shield doors and seal off this place, right?”

Luke nodded, then looked over to Antilles. “Wedge, I have a new recruit for the Reconn flights. He’s been assigned to Rogue Squadron – Biggs’ slot.”

Wedge rolled this over in his mind as he rolled his left foot around, trying to loosen his boot some. “I hear you two have been paired up for this one too, huh?”

Luke grinned and Han rolled his eyes as he replied. “Yeah. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on this kid.”

Luke stepped out of the way, moving over beside Wedge. “Here’s your new recruit.”

The young pilot behind him quickly stepped forward, putting his hand out to enthusiastically shake Wedge’s. “Dack. Dack Ralter. I heard you’re going to be running some Reconn missions and don’t have enough pilots to cover everything. I just want a chance to prove myself to you.”

Wedge looked him over, then over to Luke, then back to Dack. “What kind of experience do you have, Ralter?”

“I trained with the pilot corps on Tierfon and I’m new to the Rogue Squad.”

Wedge nodded. “OK. You and I will be flying together until I feel more comfortable with your abilities.”

He looked back to Luke as a small cargo ship entered through the main hangar door, floating in on her repulsor field, settling to the ground behind Dack.

“Missions are set to begin tomorrow. Briefing is at daybreak, right here. Dack, your ship is that one there, next to mine. Make sure you’re assigned an astromech from the labor pool.”

“Thank you, sir” replied Dack.

Wedge, Luke and Solo walked off discussing the upcoming flights as Dack stepped away, walking over to his ship; HIS ship! He could hardly contain his excitement as he grabbed the rail of the ladder mounted on its side and climbed up to the cockpit.

He was getting the feel of the instruments when a soft voice called out from down below, a voice he hadn’t heard before.

“Hello?”

He leaned over the rim of the cockpit, peering down. A beautiful young girl stood at the base of his ladder looking up at him.

“Hello. I’m sorry to bother you, but I just arrived on that ship and have no idea where I’m going or who to talk to. I’m a communications expert recruited on Talasea. My name’s Toryn Farr.”

Dack stared at her for a moment too long before he realized it. “I’m Dack. Dack Ralter. If you’re in communications you probably need to go to what will be the Command Center.”

He stood up, throwing a leg over the side of the ship and descended the ladder twice as fast as he had climbed it, jumping over the last few rungs to the ground.

“I’ll make sure you find it.” He said, smiling at her.

She smiled back at him. “Thank you, Dack”

His smile widened as he walked with her across the busy hangar. His day was definitely looking up.

*

[Tyranus]

As Han and Wedge split away from Luke heading toward the command center, Carlist Rieekan calmly approached the young rebel. “Commander Skywalker, a moment?”

“Of course.” Luke followed him into a dark, unfinished branch passageway off the main corridor.

As he activated the datapad in his hands, the glow from the small screen revealed the troubled mask Rieekan’s face wore. He spoke to the young Commander, not taking his eyes off the device as he worked. “I want you to see something.” He tapped a few commands into the screen, opening the sensitive information he wanted to share. “I want you to understand the importance of your upcoming missions. I think this may help.”

Luke took the datapad, turning it around so he could see the screen. It was the transcript from what looked like a field intelligence report. His eyes scanned the screen, reading every aurabesh word as Rieekan watched for a reaction. He saw Luke’s eyes widen a bit as he read.

The frigid temperature of the hallway felt absolutely balmy in comparison to the chills running up Luke’s spine as he continued to scan the scrolling screen. “Vader is dispatching . . . thousands of probe droids to look for us?” He looked up.

Rieekan nodded gravely. “I received that information from an embedded source that had been feeding information to codename ‘BASE ONE’.

Luke looked up. “Dodonna?”

Rieekan nodded. “That’s right. The information says the scale of probe ‘droid deployment is unprecedented in the history of the Empire. Vader wants us found. I’m betting the Emperor is leaning on him to deliver something after the failure of the Death Star. Whoever is on the other end of these reports didn’t realize Dodonna was dead. I have assumed the ‘BASE ONE’ codename so that we might keep receiving the intelligence, but I have no way of validating it. Whoever this person is, they’re in a very sensitive spot and from what I can make out, and he’s just a grunt, a Desert Stormtrooper in a unit somewhere in the Outer Rim most likely.”

Luke looked up and over to the General. “Just before the Empire invaded Yavin IV, Dodonna gave me a datacard filled with information from an embedded informant. It must be the same source, and if it is, I can vouch for the information, it’s very real. I’m also pretty sure they’re stationed on or near Tatooine.”

“Tatooine?” asked Rieekan. “That’s pretty far off the beaten path. What makes you think the Empire would even bother having troopers out there?”

Luke looked back down to the datapad. “Well, sir, I grew up on Tatooine, and the information given to me spelled out very specific landmarks leading to a place that Ben, uh, General Kenobi, constructed while in exile there. I spent my fair share of time racing skyhoppers all around the wastes and canyons near most of the inhabited parts, and I recognize the areas mentioned, just from his words.”

Rieekan nodded as Luke continued.

“I was able to return to General Kenobi’s home, but ran out of time and was unable to visit the site mentioned. With your permission, General, I’d like to return there while conducting our first round of reconn flights.”

Luke cleared his throat and stood up a bit taller, straighter. “And while I’m there, I need to inform Biggs Darklighter’s father of his death. He and I grew up together. He was my best friend. I owe him and his father that.”

Rieekan exhaled as he weighed the request. “How much time are we talking about, Commander?”

Luke thought about it for a moment. “I only need a day or two, three at the most on-planet, but it could be beneficial, and who knows, I might possibly be able to make contact with our source. Can you reply to him, let him know I’m coming?”

Gentle creases deepened at the corners of his eyes as the General smiled slightly at the younger man’s impulsive, naive nature. He looked at the datapad, thinking about his question. “I believe so. If you can meet him, you might be able to relay some of our specific informational needs, and see if he can help us. Just remember Commander . . .”

He dropped his eyes and pursed his lips as the possible darkness beneath the surface was exposed. “This could be a wonderful break for us. But it could also be an elaborate setup designed to lower our guard and draw us out.”

* * *

[Tyranus]

Im telling you thats what he said, a genetic duplicate. Blade waited for a reaction.

Rogue sat down in one of the lobby chairs, thinking. He noticed the female Rodian seated behind the sign-in desk, busily noting charts as he began digesting the information. He looked up to Blade after the brief silence. Have you mentioned this to anyone else yet?

Blade shook his head. No.

Rogue nodded slowly. Good. Lets keep it that way until after I can speak with Holder about it.

There was another, shorter silence before Rogue spoke up again. Did the doctor say how long we were going to have to wait out here before we can go back to see Holder?

Blade shrugged. Not really. He said Holder was awake, but that he had to finish his examination and run a few more tests before he would let us back to see him, and even then only for a short time.

It was at that moment that I came through the front door, spilling into the lobby with Etz, Danz and Felth.

Pulling the hot bucket from my head, I wiped a hand across my sweaty face. Any word yet?

Blade shook his head. Were still waiting to get in.

I nodded. I want to get another look at the old mans body. Theres something really familiar about him.

Felth and the others collapsed into adjacent chairs, pulling off their helmets as Blade grinned. Well, Deck, he is basically Holder, just aged a bit more. Theyre identical, genetically speaking

I threw my gloves at him. I know that, but I remember seeing those tattoos he has on his arms before. I just want to get a better look at them to see if itll jog my memory as to where I saw them.

I didnt even realize he had tattoos said Blade, glancing over to Rogue as he handed my gloves back.

Yeah, I saw them when Topolev, Danz and Ddraig loaded the body in the transport. One of his arms fell back when they lifted him up over the tailboard. I didnt see all of them, but what I could see, I recognized.

The door to the back room opened slightly and doc Shurte stuck his head through, twisting it our way. You can come back now. And he disappeared back through the swinging door.

We all filed through the door, walking past a table filled with various instruments and containers holding body parts adjacent to a medical droid that was performing an autopsy. We kept moving and circled around Holders bed. Various monitoring tools on stands flanked him on both sides. His eyes opened as we drew near, and he tried to speak, though his voice was quite hoarse. What the **** happened? How long have I been here?

Before we could answer, doc Shurte stepped up beside Holder, checking the monitors as he spoke. Youve been here a little over a weeks time, my boy. As for what happened; well, carbon freezing, especially extended entombments such as yours, can do strange things to our neural paths. From time to time, routes used to recall certain memories get crossed or destroyed altogether. When the brain cant make sense of what is happening, confusion and frustration usually ensues, and on occasion can trigger an obstruction-based seizure. The brain basically gets stuck in a loop trying to find the right path, and accidentally heads down the wrong one.

Holder raised an eyebrow. Seizure, huh? He rubbed his head a bit and rolled his head to the side, staring up at the doctor. Well whatever happened out there in the sand, and in the time between, I remember a lot more now. Its like I opened a door to a room full of memories I didnt even know were missing. Some of the pieces are still falling into place, but I feel a lot more complete now.

The doctor furrowed his brow as he thought. It sounds as if somewhere along the line, and alternate course to your memories was discovered. Perhaps when it happened, out in the dunes, it was too much for your brain to manage all at once, and you fell into the seizure. Very interesting.

The doctor opened a flimsy journal and began scratching a few notes. Feel free to stay a few minutes more, but he will need time to rest soon. He turned away and headed over to the table where the droid was finishing up on the corpse.

I stepped away from Holders bed as the others moved in to talk briefly with him. Doc?

He turned back to me momentarily, as he pulled on a pair of gloves. Yes?

Doc, will you pull Watchers body out? I need to check something.

He eyed me a second, sizing me up. Of course.

He turned away, walking over to the wall-mounted drawers, pulling one open. He slid the durasteel lid back. Nope. Wrong one.

He closed it up quickly and pulled the one next to it out. This is it. He pulled the drawer all the way out and slid the durasteel cover back in, exposing the body.

I reached out, slipping the loose sleeves of the desert wraps up, exposing his forearms. Both were littered with intertwining images of starships, asteroids and a number of attractive females from multiple species in various poses.

The medical droid whirred away behind me, working to close up the incised body it had finished with.

I know Ive seen these tattoos before. Where was it? I squeezed my eyes shut, concentrating, trying to remember where it was.

I smelled the smoke rising up from the droids cauterizing tool as it worked behind me. As soon as I smelled it, a flash of memories gelled in my head. I saw smoking, skeletal remains lying in the sand. It was the morning we had questioned Owen and Beru Lars. The very same distinct smell of burnt flesh had lingered in my helmet all that morning and well into the next day. As we walked that morning from the Sentinel at the spaceport back to our barracks, I remembered seeing a haggard old man with a white beard begging on the side of the road. He had tattoos of women and starships that disappeared up under his sleeves. He had these very tattoos.

Remember anything? asked the doctor.

I pulled the sleeves down again. Yeah. Yeah, I remember it now. Thanks doc.

Whatd you remember, Deck? asked Rogue, walking over.

I pulled the sleeves back up, revealing the markings. I saw him on the roadside in Mos Eisley the day we questioned Owen and Beru Lars. I remembered seeing them, but cant make any other connection. It just seems off that he would be begging in town, only to be found murdered and displayed all the way out there in the dunes.

Rogue nodded. It does seem a little strange that this guy would find his way out that far.

He walked back over to Holders bed as he pulled out a small datapad, and lay a hand on the Commandos shoulder.

Holder, does this mean anything to you, now that you remember a bit more? He looked at the pads screen to make sure he had it right. Out by the condenser, after you recognized Watcher and were seizing, you kept repeating 08-02A1138 to 08-02A1450. Get rid of it all, no mistakes. No mistakes. Any idea what that means?

Holders face went white as bone as the memories associated with that phrase fell into place.

Yeah. I know what that means. He said, swallowing as he looked around at each of us.

It means we have a new search ahead of us.

* * *

A tight formation of four fighters skimmed across the barren wastelands and violent, volcanic surface of Sullust. Han and Luke led the way, closely followed by Wedge and Dack.

As they raced past a huge SoroSuub mining compound, Solo keyed the comm and glanced through the canopy of his Y-wing, across to Luke. “I don’t get it. We’re not setting down anywhere or even really looking for anything. Why are we doing this?”

Luke turned to look back at him. “We’re running fake reconnaissance missions to throw off the Empire. If they think we’re still looking for a base, they’ll assume we haven’t settled anywhere yet. SoroSuub Corporation had control of Sullust for a long time, and was loyal to the Empire until the Sullustans recently took it back.”

Wedge chimed in as he pulled his ship in a bit closer. “There are bound to be some left here still loyal to the Empire. Our flight through definitely won’t go unnoticed or unreported.”

Luke’s voice crackled in their headsets as he looked around. “I think that’s probably enough of a show, but you know as rough as this place is, it might actually have some future potential.”

“You think?” laughed Solo.

“So we’re done?” asked Dack.

“You heard the Commander” said Wedge. “Let’s head out. All ships break right and climb, on my mark. And . . . Mark.”

The formation broke right and streaked up through dense banks of toxic clouds and storms of intense electrical discharges. As they passed out of the atmosphere into the cold of space, a sensor on one of the nearby orbital platforms activated, its’ guns swiveling to lock on to the passing ships.

From out of nowhere a hailstorm of blaster fire erupted from the platform, spitting through the black void. They sliced between the ships until they found a mark, piercing the fuselage of Wedge’s X-wing. Alarms rang out in his cockpit as another round of fire stabbed at them from the platform. The four ships rolled apart. Wedge limped away in his damaged ship, flanked by Luke, as Han and Dack turned sharply toward the source. They lock onto the platform as yet more blasts streaked at them from out of the darkness. Solo rolled over sharply and fell away to avoid them. Dack rolled and climbed in the opposite direction to engage.

As they did, a second platform sensed their presence and activated its gun turrets swiveling to lock on.

Dack lined up his shot on the first platform, locked on and fired as Solo came around to face the second. The coordinated blasts from Dack’s four wing-mounted cannons tracked across the darkness, shredding the guns of the first platform. He released the trigger as his target erupted in a momentary fireball. “Wahoo!”

Sensing the destruction of the first platform, the second immediately deployed a shield, which encircled it completely. Han fired at the gun array as they spewed blaster fire in his direction, but his blasts glanced off and were redirected as he rolled away.

“That thing’s got shields up, Han. Let’s get out of here before any others lock on” yelled Luke. “Follow me.”

With blaster fire burning past their ships, the others fell in behind him, heading away from the planet and its moon. As soon as the platform sensed their withdrawal it ceased firing.

“****.” Wedge keyed his comm. “My sensors are fried and my targeting array is gone. I’m not going to be able to make it with you to Malastare.”

Luke brought his X-wing in alongside Wedge, eyeing the damage. “Han, I’ll take him back to base. You and Dack go on ahead to Malastare.”

“You sure, kid?” asked Solo. “We could all turn back.”

Luke shook his head. “No. You go on and complete the flight, just keep Dack close to you. We’ll see you back at base.”

The crippled fighter and its escort peeled off from the group as the astromechs in both plotted their hyperspace jump. With a flash they were gone.

*

Both X-wing fighters reverted from hyperspace in synch, reappearing in normal space just short of Hoth VI.

“Wedge, can you make it to base from here?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why? Do you have an appointment to keep?”

“Actually . . . I do” said Luke. “Rieeken knows I’ll be gone, but will you let Leia know I should only be a few days.”

“Yes, sir Rogue Leader. Rogue Two out.”

Luke watched Wedge enter the upper atmosphere and dive for the frozen surface below before rolling away.

“R2?”

The ‘droid squawked back his brief reply.

“Set a course for Tatooine.”

Calculations were run, and the little ‘droid adjusted the course heading slightly as Luke settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. As he did, R2 engaged the hyperdrive engines, catapulting them on their way toward his master’s home world.

*