The Gray and the Unchained: The Cost of Freedom

[Karmack]

Chapter 3: A Taste of Armageddon.

"One minute to emergence.  Pilots, report status and prepare to launch."

Ken hummed a soothing motif, running counter-point to the increasing tempo he felt in the song as they approached their target.  Scrubber had given them only a basic overview in the briefing nine days prior.  It had been Ornil, the CAG, who had filled the pilots in on the details of the overall mission as well as their own part in it.  To his surprise, Ken had not only been chosen for the mission but he'd been assigned to "Hammer 3", one of the Liberator's four TIE Interceptors.

The Hammer group - Liberator and her four fighters - would be tasked with punching a hole through the Hutt defenses around the target.  The hole would be held open by a second corvette, the Emancipator call-sign "Anvil" while the Hammer group continued on to the surface and secured the LZ.  A trio of heavy transport shuttles would follow them in, but the bulk of the ground forces would be deployed from Liberator herself.  A section of 24 troops in what appeared to be highly modified Storm Trooper armor and six electronics experts - Kal'Estp's expert slicers, Jorya among them.

The troops had two missions on the ground: Find and free the slaves running the manufacturing center they were about to assault, and steal their core database.  THe second mission was for Jorya's team.   Jorya was thrilled: they had spoken briefly during a meal break about their training and being included in the raid, and to her mind it showed that the Sons were just what they appeared to be - freedom fighters and liberators.  Ken had smiled but had been unable to feign her enthusiasm.  When she'd asked him what was wrong, he brushed it off as fatigue.  He didn't want to dampen her enthusiasm over a feeling, especially one that might be wrong!

Nor was this the time to be dwelling on it.  Ken shook off the wool-gathering thoughts just as his comm came to life again.  "Hammer 3, state your status."  Ornil's voice was clipped and all business, but there was a very slight edge to it as Ken realized that he was the only pilot that had not yet answered her first call for a status check.

"Hammer Six, Hammer Three is green and good to go.  Ready to launch".

"Good to hear, Hammer three.  Ten seconds.  Stand ready."

Ken closed his eyes and calmed his nerves.  Steady...

 <<< EMERGENCE >>>

"All Hammers, launch NOW NOW NOW!"

Ken pressed himself back into the fighter's cockpit seat and hit the flashing green button on his console.  His fighter dropped away and executed a pre-programmed "break away" maneuver that put him instantly at full acceleration on a set course down and to starboard of the Liberator.  Hammer four was just to his right, his course spreading slightly further right while Hammers one and two broke to the left of the Liberator's base course.

For about three seconds Ken was in gray-out, but he had anticipated the stress and applied a Mak'Tor healing technique to minimize the endurance of the condition.  The other human pilot, a crusty veteran of the Clone Wars named "Ringo", took almost twice as long to recover despite his conditioning.  So far no one had asked him specifically how he was pulling it off...

"Hammer One to Hammer Flight: Form up and prepare for orbital sweep."  The flight leader was a Gran male that would only give the number "twenty-two" as his name.  Most of the crews called him "tu-tu", but only to his back.  Ken had simply fallen into the habit of the other pilots when working with him and called him "Sir".  He was closed-mouthed about his past but from the scars on his body it was pretty clear he'd had a rough time of it before being liberated.  And his skills in the cockpit left even Ken working hard just to keep up.  How Ringo managed to anticipate him and fly his wing left Ken stumped.

A quick glance confirmed that his own wing had formed up.  Hammer four was piloted by a Chiss female named R'Lyak.  Ken had found her gregarious and friendly during training and liked her a lot.  She was also a very competent pilot, nearly as good as he himself.

As the four fighters accelerated to full speed the Tisht system spread out before them...

Tisht was deep in Hutt space, on "The Dead Road" and generally proscribed from being visited by any non-Hutt entities.  Outside of that, the Mak'Tor had no information on the planet.  The Sons, however, had a full run-down on the place.  Tisht IV was a temperate world, covered by hills and forests, no major mountains, no deep seas, but almost 45% of the surface was covered by fresh water lakes fed by deep springs.  There were few natural resources on the planet, but it was easy to live there, easy to grow food there, and easy to get up and down from orbit.

Which was why there was a major manufacturing center built there, churning out everything from personal computers and building materials to heavy weapons and starship hyper drives.  The only thing it lacked was a true orbital yard to build ships, probably because like the planet the entire system was metal poor.  The metal ores used for those things they did make here were shipped in on bulk freighters for processing from mines located elsewhere.

The lack of orbital infrastructure didn't mean they were defenseless, however.  "Hammer Six to Hammer Flight:  We show emissions from orbit consistent with T-22 targeting systems.  Set condition three."

Ken reached down and toggled a switch, obviously added to the design post-manufacture.  The Imperial version of the TIE Interceptor didn't have deflectors, but this one did.  The generators were in an armored housing on the rear of the "eyeball", and reduced the fighter's manueverability slightly.  Nor were they particularly strong shields, but they were FAR better than nothing!

"Set" Ken reported, noting his wing had also set her screens. 

"Hammer One to flight: Attack pattern Delta!  Just like we practiced it.  No fighters yet..."

Ken grinned and hummed his battle song as he set the fighter dodging and weaving, easily avoiding the first ranging shots from the orbital defensive satellites.  The fighters split apart, each taking a different sector and leaving a fifth sector to the guns of the Liberator as well.  There were a few larger, armored satellites with some heavy turbo-lasers but the bulk of the defensive satellites were small, little more than a core with a reactor and sensor suite, control pod, and two heavy laser turrets. 

But there were a lot of them...

The fire outside his cockpit thickened as he closed in on his sector.  Red targeting icons appeared and he started firing, using his force-augmented and song-steadied senses to pick each target off with a single well-placed shot as it entered his sights.  One by one the satellites disappeared...

The angry red energy coursing by his fighter slackened, then winked out as his final green bolt found it's mark.  "Hammer Three, targets neutralized.  Moving against secondaries."

"Four, One: belay that.  Fighters rising from the planet!  Cover us while we finish up!"

Ken looked down at his scope and saw the angry red icons rising from the planet.  "Enaging..." he replied, noting the quickening in the tempo of the song again.  He merged his battle song to the underlying tempo and harmony as his father had taught him and began bobbing and weaving again.  "Just like Begger's Canyon back home..."

Ken opened fire again, noting the rising fighters were M3-A Scyk fighters.  An older design, the space frame was still nimble and capable in the hands of a good pilot.  It was not, however a match for a Jedi in a TIE Interceptor.  One by one Ken picked them off, avoiding their fire while hammering them mercilessly. THe light shield generator on the Scyk was no match for the heavy turbolasers of the Interceptor, though he did have to re-target a couple of fighters that took only glancing blows.

All in all twelve fighters sortied against them.  Not a single one got past Ken to engage the fighters in orbit.

"Hammer Three: Splash twelve." He called.  Moving to rendezvous."

"Hammer One to Hammer Flight.  Reform and prepare for ground attack." Ornil's voice clipped across the channel. 

Ken rolled his fighter and climbed, streaking around to join the rest of his flight.  "Hammer Three rolling in." he called when he spotted them, already diving for the planet.  Rather than waste more time Ken simply rolled over and used a scissor-turn to kill a little velocity before slotting back into formation.  "Shields double-front..."

"Set, Three.  I'm not incompetent y'know." R'Lyak shot back on their element channel. 

"Sorry, Ry, was talking to myself.  Didn't want to go through all that just to fry on re-entry."  Ken replied, letting his grin bleed through.

"No sweat, probie.  Nice shooting by the way.  Next time, save a few for your wing eh?"

"You bet." Ken glanced over at R'Lyak's fighter and his grin changed to a smile.  The TIE was an amazing fighter, and he was riding the song into battle. 

Life was good...

****************

Jorya shook her head and swallowed bile  I hate this!  When will we be down and I can get out of this ... tin can?  She struggled to keep her face impassive as something rattled the ship again, causing it to lurch to the side.  Slowly the vibrations intensified, becoming more and more extreme until it was no longer a vibration but a full-blown buffeting.  She looked around at the impassive faces around her.  Kal'Estp was stone-still.  The troopers were unreadable behind their masks. 

No one looked even remotely skittish or nervous...

Not even you, Jorya... she admitted to herself.  Her own face was locked in exactly the same kind of passive mask she saw around her.  Somehow that thought made her feel better...

"Two minutes to LZ.  Prepare to deploy." 

The compartment was suddenly flooded with red light.  Jorya suddenly felt calm.  Riding in this troop compartment, unable to see or hear anything that was happening was new and unnerving, but prepping for combat was not.  Checking her gear, armor and weapons had a calming and steadying effect on her.  Blaster rifle: Check.  Spare power packs: Check.  Computer and interface: check.  Armor clam-shell: check. 

Brain: check

"One minute..."

Jorya controlled her breathing and worked her way through a quick meditation, bringing her emotions and feelings into center.  She hummed - not a Mak'Tor song but a simple song her mother had taught her, a Hapan melody that helped to settle her nerves.  I'll do my best, mom...  I'll make you proud, dad...

"CONTACT!  GO GO GO..."

There was a lurch as the Liberator slammed down on the landing pad.  Troopers were storming down the assault ramp even as it deployed, overwhelming the few surprised guards that emerged to oppose them.  Jorya, her computer and interface systems slung over her shoulder in a messenger bag and her blaster rifle carried easily in her hands, followed Kal'Estp down the ramp behind the troopers and entered the gloom of the factory.

************

Ken caught a glimps of Jorya in the technicians that followed the storming troops into the factory.  Already haggard looking workers - slaves - were emerging from the building as the sounds of firing and light explosions of grenades moved deeper into the building.  His fighter was safely docked with the Liberator and he was about to check on its refueling when the CAG ran up.  "Ken, R'Lyak, grab a weapon and follow me."

Ken shared a glance with his red-eyed partner, then ran over to the armory where an officer handed them each a blaster rifle and a bandoleer of power packs.  They ran to catch the Kel Dor, who was marshalling other pilots as well.  "What's going on Commander?"

Ornil turned and fixed Ken with a look.  "The troopers ran into heavy resistance.  They're cut off.  They can hold their own, but the slicing team is separated from them.  I need you to relieve them."  He looked at Ken, then R'Lyak, then back at Ken.  "I know your friend is with them.  Go.  We'll be right behind you."

Ken felt bile rise in his throat.  The song, which had been fluctuating, took a sudden turn, changing from the schertzo he'd experienced in space to a staccato, hammering ostinato, filled with menace and danger.  "On it.  Let's go Ry."  He took off at

a run, trying not to despair as the music morphed into a wail of pain and anguish.

************

Jorya screamed and thrust her blaster forward, firing in near contact with the ugly face of the Gamorrean.  The pig-like snout vanished in a gout of gore, and Jorya scrambled back, dragging Kal'Estp back with her.  "Come on, Kal!  Hang in there..."

The Siniteen grimaced and grabbed her hand.  "No... I cannot continue.  Jorya, the terminal is around the corner.  Go.  Get the data..."  his eyes rolled back in his head and he laid still.

Jorya gulped air.  No!  This cannot be happening!  She pulled the the Siniteen back further into the shadow and then turned and ran.  She had her orders.  She was a soldier. 

I can do this!

She almost tripped over the computer hook-up, but managed to avoid damaging anything.  Her fingers flew across the keys, launching penetration programs and protocols designed to bring down the system's defensive firewalls.  Come on... Yes!

 She was in.  Icons glowed on her screen.  No time to be picky ... she initiated a full data dump to the memory crystal embedded in the interface unit.  The high-speed access systems began transferring data and she turned, gripping her rifle and moving to cover.  For the hundredth time her hand twitched and she wished desperately that she could draw and ignite her light saber. 

The Gamorreans were stopped, communicating in their own gutteral language when they were suddenly attacked from behind.  Yes! 

The cavalry had arrived!  Jorya grinned and looked back at the computer.  87% complete... 

Just a little more and we can get out of here!

**************

Ken went rapid-fire, hammering bolts into the squad of Gamorreans from behind.  He could sense Jorya, she seemed to be fine, but there was only one other living person with her, and that person was wounded... 

And these Gamorreans were responsible.

Ken exploded into their midst.  His rifle over-heated, mis-firing, and he cast it away.  Screaming a battle-cry, he drew a pair of long knives he'd added to his kit before they launched and attacked.  He was a blur of motion, blades flashing, feet slamming into knees and guts and groins.  R'lyak went to cover and tried to cover him as he carved his way through over a dozen of the green aliens.  Only once did he slip up, when one nearly took him from behind.  Ken spun and hammered him with a palm-heel that was also a devestating force push, sending the huge alien into a nearby pilon with a sickening crunch of bone. 

Ry slammed a blaster bolt into his head as he crumpled, but Ken was pretty sure she'd seen the punch and knew it had been far to effective.

And then there was Jorya, kneeling over a barely breathing Kal'Estp.  "Ken!  Can you help him?"

Ken glanced back at R'lyak and knelt next to the fallen Siniteen.  "I'll see what I can do, its been a while since I took first aid."  Ken glanced at R'lyak again, saw she was looking away, back up the corridor, and he laid his hands on the Siniteen's chest and sang a healing motif.  Energy poured through him into Kal'Estp, and Ken suddenly felt light-headed as he rocked back, breaking the contact.  "That's ... that's all I can do for him now.  Let's get him out of here.  Did you get the data?"

Jorya patted her satchel.  "Yup.  Lets get out of here."

Ken stood, wobbled a bit, and felt a strong arm wrap around his waist.  "C'mon flyboy.  Lets get you both out of here.  Enough heroics for one day, I think."

Ken accepted the assistance and smiled, blue eyes meeting red.  "Thanks, Ry.  You're a lifesaver."

Joyra, using the force to assist her clandestinely, hoisted Ral'Estp into a fireman's carry and rolled her eyes.  "Get a room..."

[Taegin Roan]

First space battle we have seen, and it was gorgeous. So well done. I am wondering what Ry will have to say once they get back to the base. It is just so fun to read these stories. Especially the compilations, and seeing how you each treat the characters. Great job, can't wait for more.

[Lord_S_Gray]

As TR said a solid space battle, very much like a Rogue Squadron / Rebel Alliance kind of raid -  hopefully more to come.  It seems Ken and Jorya are very quickly part of the team to be entrusted with such tasks...as if the Sons commander know they are more than capable of such things...

One intriguing thing is  the drive for the data core...yet its never mentioned exactly what data they are after or why...Yet.

Does M'Tzigon really have a Beggars Canyon of its own? Anyway I really liked how you treated Jorya with the little Hapan song she hums to and her determination to make her parents proud shows how invested she is becoming in this...Ken too in the heat of battle but outside of that his eyes seem more open.

[Karmack]

As TR said a solid space battle, very much like a Rogue Squadron / Rebel Alliance kind of raid -  hopefully more to come.  It seems Ken and Jorya are very quickly part of the team to be entrusted with such tasks...as if the Sons commander know they are more than capable of such things...

One intriguing thing is  the drive for the data core...yet its never mentioned exactly what data they are after or why...Yet.

Does M'Tzigon really have a Beggars Canyon of its own? Anyway I really liked how you treated Jorya with the little Hapan song she hums to and her determination to make her parents proud shows how invested she is becoming in this...Ken too in the heat of battle but outside of that his eyes seem more open.

LOL  I couldn't resist the 'beggars canyon' quote.  I probably should have re-named it, but it seemed natural.  :-) 

So, for the record, YES, there is a "Beggar's Canyon" on M'Tzigon.  Its actually in the training range on the Luna II, the smaller of the two moons.  Its a twisted ravine used to teach rapid target acquisition and piloting skills.  It is an "advanced" course, and there have been several casualties over the years during training runs...  Ken is one of the few pilots who is known to have actually flown extra "canyon" missions ... for fun.

[TheDutchman]

This was awesome!  I just went and reread it, I was so caught up with how enjoyable this chapter was!  OK, first that space battle was BADASS! I wish that I could write one THAT good! I loved the disparate threads of Ken and Jorya and how you intertwined them towards the end.  And the details...Ken's mention of "Begger's Canyon" was a great callback (oh, there's one on M'Tzigon's moon?! EVEN better!!) And Jorya's humming a Hapan song...I wish I'd thought of that!  Wonderful!  And the treatment you gave, not only new characters like "tu-tu"  but also Ornil was perfect!  Did I mention the space battle (and banter!) was BADASS?

Hmm, R'lyak makes for interesting prospects...

Karm you've raised the bar...

*cracks knuckles*  Lemme see if I can follow this up and do your chapter justice 

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 4: Close Quarters, Part I

Scrubber stood silent, his left hand absently pulling his remaining lekku, his right thumb rubbing his heavily scarred chin.  He was busy analyzing the datadump that the Sons had secured at the factory, Black Armor a silent presence just behind him like a hulking spectre of death.

“Yes…” He said slowly.  “Yes…this is exactly what we needed.  Kal, Ornil: great job!”  Smiling, he put his hands on both of his lieutenant’s shoulders.  “These three mines are where the slaves are currently…”

As Scrubber spoke, Jorya found Ken in the small crowd that had assembled around the Sons’ leaders.  He was standing next to R’lyak, their heads close as they spoke in whispers.  Jorya whispered to them both, “Hey Ken, Ry.”  Jorya thought she saw Ken’s hand on Ry’s but it wasn’t now.  “Great flying up there; the tekkies are talking all about it.”  She grinned.  “Oh Ken, I was told that this is tradition; sorry.”  With that, she punched him in the shoulder.

“Sith-spit!”  Even cursing, Ken whispered.  Ry quietly laughed, obviously enjoying the unexpected event.

“Hey, I thought tekkies were supposed to be weak and uncoordinated.” Ry’s blue lips twisted up in a grin.  “Or is Ken just that unused to physical altercations?”  Despite her words, Ry’s hand gently rubbed Ken’s shoulder.

“Oh no Ry, Ken’s a top-notch fighter.” Jorya said seriously.  “I’m just tougher than him.”  She winked conspicuously to the Chiss female who broke out in quiet laughter.

Suppressing a sigh, Ken asked, “How’s Kal’Estp?”  His mood was still buoyed by the battle, tales of his dog-fighting prowess already spreading.  But he was serious now.

Jorya sobered.  “He’s going to make it, thanks to you Ken.  Your…triage worked.”  Jorya barely hesitated but she noticed that Ry had a shrewd look about her face.  She quickly changed the subject.  “The datadump that we got was significant; it’ll take us days to fully decipher all of the encrypted parts.”

“Do you know what’s in it?” Ken asked.  His hand strayed close to Ry’s, delicately touching her fingers almost unconsciously.

Jorya was about to speak when Scrubber’s voice drown out everything.  “Sons.  We have the necessary intel for our objectives.  Find your group leader and kit up.”  His smile took on a predatory look.  “We’re going to give the Hutts something to consider next time they think about using ‘slave labor.’”

Jorya smiled, her excitement showing as she turned to leave.  “Good; after everything that I’ve heard about Myzm, I’d like to help give him a ‘black eye.’  I need to go ask Scrubber…”  Her smile turned downward as she trailed off.  “Ken, be careful.  Ry, watch his back.”  Jorya suddenly smiled again.  “I mean ‘keep him safe.’  I already know that you’re watching his…back.”  Ry’s grin turned into a full-blown smile; she certainly understood the Togruta.

“Come on, pretty boy.  I’m sure that Ziac’ch has orders for us…” Ken allowed himself to be led by the Chiss, his pulse quickening, both from the anticipation of battle as well as Ry’s touch…

            <<<<< >>>>>

The intel gleaned from the datadump had been fortuitous: what the Sons had deciphered identified the exact locations of the mines that the Hutts had their slave labor currently “working.”  Additionally, the datadump included the exact reason as to the “why” that the Hutts had so much invested—interest as well as slaves—in the mines at Tisht: thorilide.  The substance was crucial in the manufacture of ships and, more importantly, it was used as a necessary shock absorber for turbolaser cannons.  This prized commodity also accounted for a sizable portion of Hutt profits, the same profits that allowed them to buy “legitimate” political clout and help to suppress dissenting opinions among the more conservative populaces of “swing” planets.

As the three assault teams set up positions, Scrubber was in his bivouac, studying the live feeds from the individual squads.  Jorya had spoken to the Sons’ leader, pleading her case to be included in one of the squads.  Relenting, Scrubber allowed her to go conditionally: she was assigned to the most heavily armored squad and as an “observer.”

“Jorya, your skills as a slicer are of utmost importance…but I will not prohibit someone their desire to free our sires and siras from those Hutt pfassks.”  Scrubber laid a consoling hand upon her shoulder.  “But you will not breach the mines or head in the same as a front-line operator.”  His yellow eyes glowed a raptor gaze at her.  “I would not like to put a slicer to advance within a theatre of war.”  Slowly, Jorya nodded, uncertain on how to exactly take Scrubber’s statement.  He watched her as she ran out of the bivouac to join Cresh Squad.

Witnessing the interchange, Ken thought it an unusual incident but was soon preoccupied with his own squad’s orders.  “We’ve been giv’n the duty ‘f th’ vanguard.” The large Besalisk squad commander, Ziac’ch Durren, practically boasted.  The four-armed alien was extremely gregarious, congenial, and—at least to his enemies—lethal.  “Time t’ go ahuntin’ some piggies.”  As if to punctuate his decree, he held up his lower arm and, removing his hand, he extended a surgically implanted stiletto vibroblade.  “Let’s go, sires.”  Even as he ducked, the top of his helmet brushed the top of the metallic frame of the mobile bivouac, his accumulated armor an amalgam of two separate troopers armor suits.

He’s even wider than Maenowan Zearic Ken thought.  He felt a hand on his pauldron, pulling him back slightly.  Looking down, he saw R’lyak giving him a grin.  “You’re with me, probie.”  Ken grinned back, hoisting his light-repeater.  Moving one of the bandoliers hanging from his shoulder, he fell in beside the Chiss.

“You know, technically I’m no longer a ‘probie.’” Ken’s casualness was tempered by his adrenaline.  He was also preparing a battle-Song, again sub-vocally so as not to be conspicuous.

R’lyak playfully ruffled his brown hair.  “Wrong, probie.  This is still your first ‘action.’”  She lightly hammered his chestplate, the dark armor making a dull thud.  “Still: this ‘trooper armor looks good on you.”  She gave him an appreciative glance, taking in his tall, lithe frame.

Ken had never worn armor quite like this before.  It was an Imperial stormtrooper variant, colored black and with lighter plates than, say, Maenowan Zearic’s Jedi power armor but it allowed for excellent movement and agility.  And it mirrored every other member of Aurek Squad, though their armaments differed radically.  Most members had a standard medium blaster but a few—like himself—had light repeaters for suppression/assistance.  R’lyak was armed with a modified DXR-6 disruptor sniper rifle for “target acquisitions.”  Aurek’s commander, Ziac’ch, was the heavy weapons specialist.  Before the Sons, he’d been a member of the Ivax Syndicate Uprising, fighting against Voras the Hutt.  Taken prisoner during one of the battles, he’d been tortured by Voras himself, losing two of his four hands.  And both legs.  And part of his face.

But he had lived, left for dead on a no-name moon of a backwater planet…that happened to also have been the destination of the crash site of Scrubber’s first ship.  The Togruta had found the severely injured Besalisk and—slowly, very slowly—nursed him from sure death to health.  As soon as Scrubber was able to fix his ship, he limped back to a habited planet with his new passenger and contacted the Sons.  Ziac’ch, not only grateful but determined, was further helped by the Sons who provided cybernetic replacements and a venue to hone his hatred for Voras specifically and all slavers in general.  He joined the Sons immediately, reciprocating by also training recruits.  Shortly thereafter he became the Sons’ Logistics Officer.

Mentally shaking his head, Ken focused on the business at hand, slightly changing his battle-Song motif, vivace in anticipation of the fighting ahead.  Making dual lines, Aurek Squad was ready to assault the mine entrance and breach.  Only two Gamorreans were on guard duty, clearly lulled into placidity with the expectation of “more of nothing” happening today.

Violently, Aurek Squad disabused them of that notion.  Having acquired solid target lock on the guards, R’lyak’s eyes were both open, waiting for Ziac’ch’s quiet signal.

Just above a whisper, the Besalisk intoned, “Fire, Fire, Fire.  Execute.”

Two bolts shot in such quick succession so as to appear as one burned through the air, striking their targets, the Gamorrean’s heads flash-boiled in an instant from the hydrostatic reaction, causing them to explode.  Even before their bodies hit the ground, Aurek Squad was in motion, circumventing the technical “check” station to enter into the mines proper.

Inside the mines, the tunnels had been crudely cut with no thought of ergonomic considerations much less general safety.  Intermitted electrical torches were the only sources of light; having expected this, each squad member had a pair of low-light vision opticals allowing them to see as if in standard daylight.  As Ken strode through the tunnel in position, a thought flitted across his mind: I wonder where the Sons got equipment like that?  He pushed it down, intent on analyzing the puzzle for later.

“Break off in teams of four, Aureks-2 through -5 with me.” Ziac’ch’s quiet voice came over the comms as they came to a multiple fork.  Ken, Ry, and two other’s broke off towards the left while the rest of the squad did likewise through the middle and right tunnels…

            <<<<< >>>>>

Another one of her squad fell, his chest blown out from the heavy blaster fire. …What the hell…? Jorya echoed a curse she’d heard Father use many times before.  While she was reasonable sure that her squad companion was dead, she still reached out with the Force.  Damn… She thought, saying a private litany for the fallen.  Grabbing the blaster rifle that the body still clutched, she did a check of the power pack before hoisting both of her weapons at the ready, the tunnel wall to her back. I hope that Ken is having an easier time…

As per planning, Cresh Squad had penetrated the mines, probing further and deeper into the earthworks where they’d found their objective: the slave cells for the work force.  Packed four or five beings to a cell purposed to hold only two, the slaves’ conditions were beyond miserable.  Intending to liberate the slaves first who would then join Cresh Squad against the guards, something had gone wrong.  For one: there were a lot more guards than the intel had indicated.  And secondly, the guards were heavily armored and entrenched…almost as if expecting an attack.  Before the first wave was able to react—or free the slaves—the Gamorreans had them targeted and burned down, killing over half of the squad before they could regroup.

As heavy blaster bolts kept grinding away at Jorya’s cover, she gave a deep breath, slowly releasing it as she wrapped herself in the Force.  Reaching out, she could sense the grouping of guards that had her pinned down. Five…six of them, separated for crossfire… Moving only her eyes, she could tell that none of her squad were looking directly at her; they were busy repulsing the guards on three differing fronts.  Good.

Before moving from her cover, she reached out all along the tunnels, readying herself.  Then, thinking of her time with Master Chillum, she shot a flurry of stone missiles from behind the guards, many of them hitting them all along their backs, necks, and head.  Five of the six turned as expected, the sixth was too composed to fall for the ruse.  …Well sometimes you have to roll a hard twelve… She thought, again using one of Father’s phrases.

Using the Force, she sent a potent, focused Push against the rifle of the one guard that had not been distracted.  He was good, very good; even as the rifle responded to Jorya’s Force Push, he pulled the trigger, bolts burning through the air, splashing the area that she had just occupied.  But Jorya was better; she was already moving, her eyes tracking where she wanted her blaster fire to target.  Squeezing off several groupings, she went down to a knee to reacquire her targets.  She need not have worried; all six had two or more blaster holes testament to her sharpshooting.  With these guards dead, she could now access the slaves’ cell doors via the mainframe.  Shouldering both of her rifles, she ran to the datanode, inserting the datapad interface and downloaded the files.  As soon as the coding took effect, the intercoms sounded, blaring the Sons’ prerecorded message, one that every single slave that the Sons liberated had heard:

“The Sons have come!  Throw off your shackles! Come sires!  Siras!  LET US BE FREE!” was broadcast across audio frequencies and in numerous languages.

The nearest cells to Jorya opened, divulging a flood of slaves.  While many ran out attacking the remaining guards, many approached looking her up and down in her dark colored light armor plate, standing amongst the dead Gamorreans.  Those nearest began tentatively advancing.  The groups of slaves were mostly Twi’Lek although there were many disparate aliens among them.  Holding out their hands, they gently touched Jorya’s face, gratitude in their teary eyes.  And as the nearest Twi’Lek collapsed, Jorya caught him in her arms, holding him close while gently singing to the crying Twi’Lek, tears escaping from her own blue eyes.  Unashamedly, she cried for the slaves, she cried for her fallen compatriots as she sang.

It was a Hapan lullaby that her Mother had taught her as a child, a beautiful, sorrowful song that D’Aylanna would sing whenever she would comfort Jorya…

Jorya sang it now to the slaves.

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 4: Close Quarters, Part II

“Aurek-1, come back.  Over.”  R’lyak kept trying to raise the squad commander but all to no avail.  Shaking her head, she looked from the wounded Lorridian Son and into Ken’s light brown eyes.  “Nothing, Ken.  You?”  She unconsciously wiped the blood from her own cheek, oblivious to the fact that she only managed to further smear it, darkening her blue skin.

His hands upon her armor, Ken was sub-vocally Singing a Healing motif, hoping to have some affect to Aurek-12.  …Please, Maker… PLEASE! But even as he looked from Ry’s glowing red eyes and into Aurek-12’s violet…he saw that they were dull and unseeing.  His head sinking in defeat, he closed her eyes in respect.  “Dammit.”  He punctuated his curse with punching the earthen wall, causing dust, dirt, and pebbles to cascade to the floor, next to the prostrate body of Aurek-13, a male Duros.  His chest still rose and fell, if raggedly.  Ken had already tried to Heal him but with no luck.

“I’m…I’m so sorry Aurek-13.” Ken said, his voice quiet, constrained.  He held the Duros’ hand in both of his as if doing so would staunch the life leeching from the mortally wounded squad member.  Bowing his head, Ken said a litany for the fallen.

“…N’t your…fault…Belanger…we…help…th’ slaves…worth it…t’ die…free…” His voice was punctuated by coughs accompanied by blood, his eyes closed in pain and exertion.  He was silent for so long that Ken thought that he’d passed but was surprised when the Duros opened his eyes, staring straight at him.  “…Kruk…Treboh…”

Ken paused.  “…Sorry?”  He lowered his head close to the Duros, cradling his head in his arms.  Ry looked sympathetic but kept a watch out for any Gamorreans.

The Duros…smiled.  “My…name.  Kruk…Treboh.”  Suddenly he spasmed, his face contorting in agony.  Shuddering, the Duros went still, a breath escaping him.  “…remember…me…”  And with that, he was gone.

Ken closed his eyes, fighting back pure, unadulterated anger.  No, not just anger…hate.  He opened his eyes, looking from underneath his brow.  His breathing was controlled, rhythmic.  The Song had become…furioso, risoluto hammering in time with his heart.  He knew what he had to do…

Gently closing the Duros’ eyes—Kruk, Kruk Treboh he fiercely corrected himself—Ken stood, grabbing his repeater.  “Ry…cover me.”  Slapping a fresh powerpack into the feed, he made sure that his other ammo mags were in easy reach.  Opening himself to the Force, Ken flooded the tunnels with his Song, powerful, colossale… He was One; One with the stone in the mines, One with the oxygen in the air, One with the people, slave and freedmen.

He was One with the Force, One with the Song.

Ken could see ever outward.  …There… he thought, seeing that a group of Gamorreans were beginning to regroup.  Accordingly, Ken…moved.

Enhanced by the Song, Ken’s movements became almost preternatural, avoiding the blaster fire that seemed to be comically slow, his own repeater returning fire.  The guards were completely surprised, Ken’s blaster fire drilling into each of their exposed heads, their bodies falling, headless.  With barely any hesitation, he ran forward, barely clearing the tight bends of the tunnels, his armor catching some of the out-hanging rocks.  …Dammit!... he thought.  In response, Ken furiously hit the release button, shrugging out of his armor.  Behind him, R’lyak stared in wonder as she fought to keep up, targeting any guards that were on Ken’s periphery, thinking of the sniper credo: “One shot, one kill.”

As Ken ran, he continued to rack up kills, changing power packs on the move with barely any hesitation, Ry a lethal angel of death assisting him whenever she could.  Soon, Ken came to a large cavern full of slaves, each one shackled at the ankle and wearing an explosive collar.  Ken and Ry had finally come across the thorilide processing stations within the mine, taking the raw material and packaging it for shipping.  As such, it was the veritable nerve center of the mines and the most heavily guarded room.  But Ken was unstoppable, the Song prestissimo.

Slapping in another power pack, Ken’s repeater was in danger of overheating.  Ducking behind cover, he drew the guards’ collective fire as he readied his next offensive.  But his actions were not just a defensive measure; Ken had deliberately drawn attention to himself so that Ry had time to get into position.  Feeling her determination with the Force, he steadied himself, waiting for Ry’s signal.

“Go.”  Her voice was quiet, dispassionate.  Her feelings were not; her influence on the Song was…slancio.  It reinforced his anger, his hate.  Trusting R’lyak, he ran from his cover, again the incoming fire amusingly slow.  Instead of returning fire he continued to play the bait, drawing the attention of the Gamorreans.  One by one, Ry’s shots felled the guards, most still distracted by Ken.

By this time, the slaves had begun to react, some of them doing what they could to take down the guards around them.  It was at this time that Ken’s repeater was spent, all power packs having been consumed.  Grabbing his sidearm, he continued targeting the Gamorreans as Ry rained death down from her own position.  But there were simply too many of them…

The guards had retreated, regrouping in one of the adjacent caverns…where they had housed a cache of heavy weaponry in the event of a slave uprising.  Even from his vantage, Ken could see that the Gamorreans were assembling a heavy blaster cannon and he knew that they would be indiscriminate with their targeting.  Slaves throughout the cavern had begun to crowd to the opposite side in the hope of escaping.  But there were simply too many of them…

Again, Ken knew what he had to do, his anger still raging hot within.  Scanning the cavern, he saw no one paying attention to him…well who also wasn’t trying to shoot him.  Wrapped in the Force, Ken began to Sing, the flows writhing across and then through the strata of the rock within the guards’ cave.  He focused using his rage to empower him while noticeable vibrations began to oscillate throughout the mines, dust and dirt falling from the ceiling.  From what Ken could see, the Gamorreans were not altogether sure with what was happening, their attention completely on the small quake trembling through the earthen walls.

Thinking of everything that he’d seen of the guards and their deprivations towards the slaves—the violence, the wickedness, the injustice—and using every iota within him, Ken narrowed his focus to a razor-thin intent, his Singing reaching a crescendo.  

And with righteous resolve, he collapsed the roof of the cavern housing the guards.

Metric tons of rock, dirt, and earth crushed down upon the Gamorreans, undiscerning of their armaments, equipment, or persons.  Nothing of the Gamorreans remained that was not underneath the cave-in.  The slaves who had crowded the opposite end of the chamber gawked in awe at the destruction at first.  Then, they began to cheer.  And one and all, they were focused on Ken.

But Ken wasn’t listening.  What have I done…? he thought, his hatred evaporating, replaced by disappointment…and fear.  His father had always warned him about hatred and its possible influence on the Song.  …I must not give in to hate… he admonished himself, thinking that his father would never have done so.

“Incredible…” a quiet, astounded voice came from right behind Ken, startling him.  Turning quickly, he came face-to-face with R’lyak.  She was staring intently at him, her face openly incredulous…and amazed.  “You…you’re one of…them.  A…an I’mept’U vos’.”  Ken had never heard a language like the one that Ry had just spoken to him.  His confusion must have been written on his face because Ry sighed, a look of consternation on her face.  Tentatively, she spoke again.  “You…you are…jhed-hyai…”  She masticated the word, clearly unfamiliar with its enunciation.

Ken felt poleaxed.  While he hadn’t used any gesticulations in manipulating the Force, the Chiss must have seen his focus.  And while that in and of itself wasn’t enough…he did not want to lie to her.  But even as he considered what his next course of action should be, Ry took full advantage of his hesitation, rushing towards him.

And giving Ken a fierce, full kiss.  The Mak’Tor had never proselytized chastity or anything denigrating attachments; one of the core tenets of the Mak’Tor was the importance of such.  Indeed the entire Order considered its members as family, adoptive and literal.  But Ken’s experiences with intimate relations were infrequent at best.  Still, like any young man, he reciprocated in kind.

Breathless, Ry pulled away from Ken, resting her head upon his chest.  Holding each other as if they were the only two beings around, they were surprised when the slaves began to cheer at them.  Embarrassed, Ken cleared his throat, speaking somewhat uneasily, “I…that is, we should probably get their restraints off of them.”  He went to walk away but was pulled back, Ry having a firm hold upon his wrist.  Smiling, the Chiss’ face had an odd balance of coyness and confidence.

“Ken…you don’t have to worry; your secret is safe with me.” She practically whispered.  Then, louder, “Come on, pretty boy.  Let’s help them out…”

Nodding his head, Ken walked towards the slaves while thoughts raged in his head, first and foremost a promise: …I will not fail my father…I will not fail mother…I will not fail myself…I will not give in to hate…

            <<<<< >>>>>

Hundreds of slaves were gathered ‘round the transport vehicles where sickbays gave triage, medical attention, and nutrient supplements.  As they were half-starved, no food was being issued; the slaves would require a diet of fortified broths and other liquids, solid food only to follow as their bodies allowed.  However, blankets and water were freely distributed among the slaves.

Jorya had been very careful to appear to be too strong, too fast.  But word among the slaves were beginning to take on a life of its own, full enough of embellishments that she didn’t think that she needed to worry.  However, one story that was absolutely true: she had been able to save Aurek Squad’s commander, Ziac’ch.

After freeing the slaves from their cells, she was able to reconnoiter deeper in the mines.  While she came across a few guards, she was able to dispatch them fairly silently, using the stiletto vibroblades that Ken had given her while aboard the Wayfarer.  As such, Jorya’s blaster rifle had a full charge; fortuitous as she soon came upon an over-strength unit that had pinned down Ziac’ch’s squad, killing all but Ziac’ch himself.

Flanking the Gamorreans, she caught them unawares and, gritting her teeth, she mowed them down.  Seeing that Ziac’ch was badly wounded, she fortified herself with the Force, carrying the Besalisk through the tunnels almost to the entrance.  Once there, she pinged the comms of Dorn Squad.  With their numbers, they were able to carry Ziac’ch to sickbay as well as assist in the liberation of the slaves, many of which would touch Jorya reverently as they thanked her.  Jorya, for her part, kept a brave face knowing that she could have the luxury of crying later.

And so it was the Ken came upon her: she was resting outside of the sickbay determined to stay until she had word of Ziac’ch.  “Jorya!” Ken’s voice was joyful but she thought that she could detect something else underneath it…regret?  Standing—exhausted yet grateful at seeing her friend alive and well—she gave Ken a tight hug, happy to see him.

“Ken… Thank the Maker…” Her voice was subdued, so different from the day before.  “Are you…how are you?”  She released him, looking at R’lyak as she came up behind Ken.  “Ry!”  She clasped the Chiss’s wrist, patting her shoulder.  Jorya noticed that the two of them looked worse for the wear: Ken’s armor was gone (!), his clothes covered in dust and dirt, Ry looking somewhat more presentable, if just.

Offering the two of them to sit beside her, the three young people collapsed upon the ground, fatigue finally catching up to them.  There they sat in silence for a time, enjoying the relative peace and quiet around them.

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 4: Close Quarters, Part III

“I am proud of you all.” Scrubber smiled at them, handing them some water which they graciously drank.  “Thanks to you, we have saved hundreds of our sires and siras, no longer bound by the tyranny of the Hutts.”  Scrubber grabbed his remaining lekku, pulling it absentmindedly.  “Oh, Jorya, I just received word: Ziac’ch is going to live.”  He placed a hand upon her shoulder.  “I am endebted; not only for saving our Logistics Office but rather for saving a friend…and brother.”  Jorya nodded her head, all of her emotions seeming to hit her at once.  She turned to leave but Scrubber gently stopped her.  “I understand.  They were my friends as well, one and all of them.  Please do not feel regret or responsibility.  They were—and are—proud to have given their lives to free those oppressed under the bonds of slavery.  Honor them.  Remember them.  But do not diminish their sacrifice by feeling guilt.  They are free.”  Staring into his yellow eyes, Jorya’s red lips tightened in resolve, giving a small nod to Scrubber.  He squeezed her shoulder and turned his attention to Ken and R’lyak.  

All about them freed slaves were being directed to various facilities, the few captured guards sitting on the ground in a small group.  Walking around as a Son guarding a captured Gamorrean marched past, Scrubber smiled at Ken and Ry.

“And you two… The Sons have won great victory today because of you.  The slaves have been freed, the Gamorreans annihilated, and the thorilide will allow us to replenish our coffers to obtain more supplies, to help free more slaves.”  Scrubber clapped both Ken and Ry on their backs.  As he moved to head to sickbay, Ken stopped the Togruta.  

“Scrubber.  I have a question: those prefabricated structures within the mines and at the entrance…they don’t look like any Hutt constructs I’ve ever seen.”  Ken’s light brown eyes were intent.  Scrubber sighed.

“You’re right.  Those date back from the Clone Wars.”  The way that the Togruta spoke, Ken could tell that there was something…personal about that information, about this place.

Ken’s face twisted in disgust.  “Figures; the Separatists would have the gall to endorse slavery…”  He crossed his arms across his chest, noticing that Scrubber was looking at him in a most peculiar fashion.  “What?”

His yellow eyes took on a raptor-like quality.  “No Ken.  The Separatists had by that time cut out large swaths of the galaxy and either had recruited or annexed the local systems under their control but the Tisht System was never a Separatist territory.”  The Togruta’s voice was quiet but his demeanor intense.

Jorya looked confused.  “…So this was Hutt Space even then?”

Scrubber looked at her, again his gaze looking predatory.  “No; as Ken observed: those constructs are not of Hutt origin.”  He took a slow breath, his eyes never blinking.  “Those are of Republic manufacture.”

He left the statement hanging in the air, Ken and Jorya both looking first stunned and then incredulous.  They protested, their voices merging.  “That can’t be!”  “Surely that’s not right!”  Scrubber closed his eyes, again sighing.

“The Republic was desperate, especially towards the end.  It was not the ‘Great Victory’ that the Imperial Educational Institutes parrot about now.  No, the Republic was loosing, and badly.”  Scrubber shook his head, laughing sardonically.  When next he spoke, it was almost as if to himself, “…Sooner or later everyone reverts back to a disposable workforce…”

Ken and Jorya couldn’t believe what they were hearing…

“…That…no, that can’t be…” Even to Ken’s ears, his protests sounded…hollow.  “But…but surely the Jedi would not have allowed this?  They would have put a stop to this…”

Scrubber stared directly into both of their eyes, all signs of his previous intensity gone...as if speaking about it had drained even him.  “They were too busy fighting droids to look—to even consider—what their own side was up to…”  Scrubber gently shook his head.  He looked as if he was going to say something else when a commotion broke out amongst the Garmorrean prisoners.

Looking in unison, Ken and Jorya saw that the porcine-like beings were arguing, one of them gesticulating wildly.  And, just as Ken noticed that the “chaos” of the moment looked too…contrived, most of the prisoners attacked.

Overwhelming the few guards that were watching them, the Gamorreans grabbed any weapons available: blasters, sticks, rocks, fists.  They were heading into a line of slaves before anyone could react, save Scrubber, Ken, Jorya and Ry.  As the four of them intercepted the escaped Gamorreans, some other Sons arrived to cover the few prisoners that had not joined the insurrection.

Without a clear field, shooting them was out of the question; too many slaves were interspersed between the Gamorreans.  They had to engage them hand-to-hand.  Unsurprisingly, Ken and Jorya were able to hold their own without any trouble, as did Ry.  But it was Scrubber’s abilities that were remarkable.

The Togruta waded through the prisoners like a lightsaber, striking nerve plexuses, pressure points, breaking bones, tearing muscle from tendons.  Still, he was outnumbered and skill can only carry one so far against such numerical superiority.  The Gamorreans turned upon Scrubber as one.  But then, appearing suddenly like the shadow that most mistook him for, was Black Armor.  If Scrubber had been violence, Black Armor was death.  The Gamorreans' assault was completely stopped, Black Armor effortlessly crushing them.  

Ken kicked outward, feeling his opponent’s hip bone break and—because of his vantage—he glanced out of the corner of his eye to see that the Sons guarding the other prisoners (those that had not taken any part in the attack) had leveled their blasters.  But Jorya’s voice made him turn his head before he could see anything else.  

Following the sound of his friend’s cry, he saw that two of the Gamorreans had blindsided her, one holding her neck in a vise-like grip while the other pummeled her thorax.

Reacting by instinct, Ken grabbed his sidearm, leveling it in a firm, unshakable grip.  Sighting along the barrel, he let off two, tight blasts.  The Gamorreans fell, dead.  Ken ran up to Jorya as she rubbed her throat, both of them going down to a knee.  “Are you ok?”  Before she had even responded, Ken quietly Sang a Healing motif towards Jorya.

Briefly coughing, she nodded.  “Thanks.” She croaked.  Once he was sure that she could stand, he helped the Togruta to her feet.  Looking around, he noticed that the other prisoners had been dealt with.  ...The prisoners… he thought.  Ken turned, trying to see the spot where the other prisoners had been sitting.

They were all dead, killed by blaster fire.  “By the Maker…” he said disbelievingly.

“What Ken?” Jorya’s voice sounded stronger, clearer.  “What’s wrong?”  She stood behind him, a hand still upon his shoulder for support.

“I…I think that those prisoners were…executed.”  Ken couldn’t be sure.  Were they?  He’d turned so… He shook his head.

“Ken, those prisoners attacked innocent freedmen, attacked us.” Jorya’s blue eyes looked angry.  “I have no sympathy for them.”  She still messaged her throat softly.

“No Jorya, I mean the prisoners that had not attacked us.” He pointed to illustrate his words.  But…even as he looked at the bodies, he couldn’t tell if they’d fallen from a standing or seated position.

Clearly Jorya had the same thought.  “Look Ken, I didn’t see anything like that.  Did you?”  When he shook his head, she continued.  “Again: they attacked innocent, helpless people.  They deserve what they got.”  She inhaled as if to say something else, but then shook her head.  “…Look Ken, I am going to see if Scrubber is alright.”  And with that, she left him by himself among a throng of freedmen.

But Ken was almost certain that he was right.  And thought…perhaps Jorya was wrong, or at least being obdurate.  But before he could ponder more on the subject, Ry was there.  The Chiss took one look at him and rushed to him, throwing her arms around his waist where they comforted one another from the horrors of the day.

But Ken still could not shake the one horror that he was afraid of being true.  And Jorya’s apparent indifference…

[Lord_S_Gray]

 Lots to love in this one!
As always great detail and side characters, Scrubber a solid guiding presence you want to see succeed.

 One common maxim is how true brotherhood's are forged with those you fight beside, you're fighting for the man to your left and right not some country or cause. Ken going off after Kruk died I think perfectly captures this kind of feel - he can't hold back when he knows he can do more. Jorya as well - i suppose both are unused to the more conventional warfare of the Sons, Jedi v Sith battles they have been part of losses are smaller on both sides 2-3 knights or masters and a gaggle of cronies. Seeing the losses the Sons suffer must be challenging for them in that regard, to not go all out just to preserve their cover story would be morally galling.

Also seems the heat of battle is stirring a different kind of heat in...

Also for Ken...a fine line between hate and righteous anger he needs to navigate...Jorya very clearly getting drawn into the emotion of what she's seeing...but who can blame her - anyway very well crafted experiences for both characters!

[Karmack]

Wow, Dutchman!  Nicely written!

I will echo LSG on this one: The characterizations are great!  The side-characters are real, and vibrant, not just throw-away cut-outs.  The death of Kruk Treboh and Ken's reaction was exactly what you expect to see happen with the young man.  And as LSG said, the line he has to walk between righteous anger and fury vs hate and selfish anger and fury is a narrow road.  Anger and hate fill the force and song with power to hurt and harm, but the cost needs to be counted.  The Mak'Tor use a different "control mechanism" than the Jedi do to prevent crossing that line, but they still hold the line.  Ken is finding that the line is harder to hold in the face of dead comrades and the adrenaline fueled reaction of combat. 

And yes, there are sparks.  That will be ... interesting.    I know I kicked that one off, but you shaped it masterfully!

And Black Armor...  He's just scary...  I think he's likely Aethan, and if he is then he knows all about Ken and Jorya's abilities.  Probably the song as well.  Which means that Scrubber also likely knows.  Which may explain why he allowed Jorya to go in with the assault.  But maybe not.  I find myself liking Scrubber more and more.  I want him to succeed, to win.  I trust him.  Even when I don't agree with him.  :-)

More to come.  *takes the baton*  As always, you're a tough act to follow!  :-)

[TheDutchman]

Thanks guys!  This collaboration has been a BLAST!  The level of feedback, storyboarding, and ideas integral to the storytelling... Well, it's because of you all that we're able to really flesh out this universe.  Personally, I NEVER would have considered MANY of the details that we're able to bring collaboratively together.  So: *vigorous clapping*

I'd LOVE to hear more about the Mak'Tor "control mechanisms" if they aren't secret, of course 

Tag Karm, your turn 

[Karmack]

Chapter 5: Divergence
(Part 1)

Ken looked up from his meal when someone suddenly plopped down at the table across from him.  "Penny for your thoughts?"

Ken smiled as he looked up at Jorya.  "Hi Jorya!"  He glanced left and right to make sure they weren't under direct observation, reaching out with the force to do the same.  Satisfied, his face turned more serious, his eyes colored with concern.  "How are you holding up?"

Jorya smiled but there was a darkness in her eyes, a sense of carrying a great burden about her that weighed down her normally cheerful demeanor.  "OK.  You?"

Ken did his best to put up a brave front, but there was sadness in his own eyes as well.  In the week since the raid on the mines of Tisht Jorya had spent 18 hours a day decrypting and then data-mining the various files and records they had taken in liberating first the manufacturing site and then the mines themselves.  The information was not pretty, and it was taking a toll on her, but he was really starting to become concerned about the ... well, the scale of the Son's operations.  "Well.  The new pilots are shaping well, several have great instincts.  The Son's have a top knotch skills assessment and placement system.  Which is part of the problem."  Ken leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially.  "Doesn't it bother you just how well the Sons of Kessel are equipped?  Where is all of this equipment and support coming from?"

Jorya's eyes hardened.  "Well, they're not coming from the Mak'Tor or Vhal'Dan!  Ken, the horror and injustice..."She hissed.  Blinking, she caught her breath, her eyes bright with unshed tears.  "We just decoded part of the logistics logs.  Ken, there are discussions about trimming the cost of food and removing all medical support!  They let the sick die from even minor illnesses!  Slaves were forced to work even as they wasted away from malnutrition and dehydration, all while overseen by overweight pigs!  The only slaves who were well fed and given medical attention were young women who had ... caught the eye of someone in charge."  Jorya shuddered.  "There was even a swap board..."

Ken gripped her hand in his own.  "Enough.  I knew you were sifting through horrible things but that's... "  Ken swallowed hard, driving down his gorge.  He glacned down at his half-eaten plate and realized he would not be finishing it.  "I feel bad for these people, too, Jorya, but we have a job to do..."

Jorya's pain suddenly flared into white-hot fury.  "A JOB!  We have a JOB to do?!?"

Ken tightened his grip on her hand, his own anger rising.  His voice was a raspy hiss now as well.  "Quietly!  You'll blow our cover."

Jorya yanked her hand away, her eyes still blazing. When she spoke, her voice was again pitched so only they could hear but it dripped with contempt.  "Blown cover.  Job.  Worried about support.  You have no idea what these people have been through!  Who cares how much equipment they have or where they get it?  Anyone who gives the Sons support is a saint!  We should be applauding them, not questioning their motives!  We should be helping them!  The Vhal'Dan and the Mak'Tor should be actively supporting Scrubber!  How can you even think anything else?"

Ken pushed his anger down, struggling for balance and control of his emotions.  "Are you so sure?  What about Black Armor?  What about the ship that was out in the bay when we arrived?  Where did it go?  What is it doing now?  And yes, we need to be concerned.  What if the Sons decide that the Vhal'Dan or Mak'Tor are a threat to them?"

"Then don't be one!" Jorya let her voice rise again.  "I have work to do.  I'll leave you two alone." Jorya thrust herself up abruptly and spun away, stomping off into the hall.  

"Jorya..." Ken started to call her back, but then sensed the presence at his back.

"Let her go, Ken.  She's obviously peeved with you." R'Lyak said, laying her hands on Ken's shoulders as she bent down to plant a kiss on the top of his head.  Her fingers started to massage the knots out of his shoulders.  "So tense...  She really got under your skin, probie."

Ken groaned but relaxed despite himself under her touch.  "Maybe a little.  I thought we were in full agreement when we came here.  Apparently our ... ideology isn't as close together as I thought."

R'Lyak hugged him and then sat on the bench next to him, legs out, facing him.  Her face displayed a frown.  "Jorya is one of the most dedicated slicer recruits in the unit.  Everyone talks about her great compassion and how hard she works to help, especially the newly liberated sirs and sirras that we take in after a raid.  She seems to share some of your skills at ... triage..." the delight at sharing the secret with him twinkled in her eyes and make Ken's stomach flip-flop.  "...though she mainly spends time helping with the difficult PTSD cases.  Something I know you do as well.  More triage, I assume?"

Ken blushed.  "Yes..."  Both of them had found that they're ability to touch the minds of others allowed them to find and sooth the worst hurts in the worst cases of post-traumatic stress among the liberated slaves.  The doctors, overworked as they were, accepted the thin explanation that they had been studying advanced psychological techniques and let them work.  For most of the Sons of Kessel results were all that mattered.

Which was, ironically, the heart of the problem.

"Yes, we help.  But Ry, some of the things that go on here ... bother me."  He looked into the eyes of the woman who was rapidly becoming more to him than a friend and realized he was about to take another huge risk.  "Doesn't it bother you?  Where does all of this come from?" He gestured, indicating the room they were in as well as the greater bulk of Eurydicen Base and all it contained.  "And more importantly: what do they want?"

Ry's eyes were troubled as she rolled that over in her head.  "I ... don't know.  I never even thought to ask.  It was enough that others were willing to help.  Some of it we purchase outright using funds we've captured or gotten from ransom or sale of the goods we, um, liberate along with our fellows.  But you're right, there's a lot more that comes to us and I doubt most of us know or care about the source.  Except, maybe to say 'Thank you'."

Ken's eyes fell.  "'Liberate our fellows' you said.  Maybe that's the problem.  I've never been a slave.  Jorya has."

Ry reached out and gently lifted Ken's chin until their eyes met. "Ken, you care.  I know you do.  Your compassion for those in bondage is clear to all.  That's one of the things I..."  She halted, a strange look on her face, but before Ken could ask her for a clarification she leaned in and kissed him.  After a moment of shocked paralysis, Ken wrapped his arms around the Chiss and kissed her back.

The contact was intense but necessarily brief. When they separated R'lyak was flushed and flustered. "Well...why did I come down here?"

Ken chuckled.  "You mean it wasn't just to lay one on me?"

Ry laughed.  "No, silly...  I actually came to fetch you.  Ziac'ch has some new toys for us to play with.  Come on..." she stood and pulled him up off the bench after her.  "...maybe you can ferret out some of those puzzling details you're so worried about while we check out our new rides."

*************

The hanger was, as always, a hub of activity and Ken was again struck by the similarities to similar installations used by the Rebel Alliance in it's struggle against the Empire.  There were fighters parked in clusters around repair stations, technicians and astromech droids everywhere, and small cargo vehicles carrying supplies of all kinds to and from ships.  

But not everything in the hangers had to do with the growing Sons' aerospace assets.

As Ken and R'Lyak jogged across the cavernous space Ken could see no less than three groups of newly inducted recruits drilling in formation.  One was working on basic drill, but the other two were conducting what was obviously battle drill exercises, using weapons that mimicked blasters but only caused a nasty sting when they hit while hand-to-hand weapons used low-power electro-staffs set to shock but not kill.  All three groups were in armor similar to the trooper armor Ken had been issued, though the choice of personal weapons appeared to remain highly individualized.  

Ken hummed a memory motif, 'recording' what he was seeing for later detailed analysis, but more than anything else this made him feel ... uneasy.  The Sons had lost nearly thirty troops in the attack on Tisht.  They'd been forced to call on the pilots to reinforce the ground combat element ... but if he was counting correctly there were nearly two hundred new recruits training in this hanger alone, and that was only a fraction of the rescued slaves who had signed on with the Sons.

This was no longer a simple activist group or terrorist cell.  It was well and truly becoming an army.  

Ken's own instructor had been a former Imperial pilot.  Word was that the training cadre was almost 90% ex-Imperials, generally storm troopers and pilots who had left Empire service due to ... idiological differences.  Ken applauded their choice to leave the Empire, but he was curious why they had joined the Sons.  Maybe, after this meeting, he would wander over and strike up a conversation with one of them...

He nearly bumped into R'Lyak when she slowed suddenly.  Ken drew his attention back and then let out a low whistle of his own.  "Wow..."

The hanger area dedicated to Hammer Group was dominated by their "mother" ship, the Liberator, and the ground-side fighter racks that held her complement of TIE/in "Interceptor" fighters.  But the area was more crowded than usual now with an additional eight fighters.  Arranged in two rows, the new fighters were sleek and deadly TIE/ad "Avenger" fighters.  They were faster and more maneuverable even than the simple but deadly "Interceptors" and unlike the lighter fighters these ships had shields, missiles, and hyper-drives.  They were the Empire's answer to the Republic's X-Wings, and they were superior to virtually every other fighter in space.

And the Sons of Kessel had eight of them.  That I know about...

Standing below the nearest fighter were Zaic'ch and Ornil along with Tutu and Ringo, inspecting the new fighter.  Two wookies, both on the smaller side for their race, were also with them.  Ornil noticed them first.  "Blue, Dagger, join us please!"

Ken grinned as they headed over, nudging R'Lyak in the ribs.  "See?  'Dagger', not 'probie'..."

Ry grinned back. "Don't worry, you'll always be 'probie' to me..."

They stopped as they joined the small group and came to attention, saluting in the Son's way by folding the right arm - the weapon arm - across their chests and dipping their heads slightly.  "Pilots R'Lyak and Belanger reporting as ordered, sir." Ry said for both of them.

"Ken, Ry, glad you're here."  Zaic'ch replied.  "Ken,  congratulations on the promotion.  Ornil says you're doing wonders training new pilots and have settled into the roll of Flight Leader very well.  Ry, let me be the first to congratulate you as well."

Ken saw Ry blush, her cheeks turning a slight shade of purple against the rich blue of her skin.  "Sir?"  She looked at Ornil, who grinned at her.

"Ry, you're also now Flight Leader.  Hammer Squadron has been brought to full strength.  We will retain our four Interceptors, with Two-Two as flight leader and overall squadron commander.  Ken, you are now Flight Leader of Mallot Flight, call sign Mallot One.  Your flight will consist of four of these new
TIE Avengers.  R'Lyak, you are the new flight leader of Sledge Flight, call sign Sledge One.  Your flight will consist of the other four "Avengers".  You will be tasked with operating with Hammer, under my overall command from the Liberator.  Questions?"

Ken was speechless.  He'd spent the days since their return from Tisht training a new crop of pilots.  All of his students had prior flight training, some had even been fighter pilots at some point, and the TIE fighters were simple craft and easy to fly.  He'd been able to spend most of his time teaching cooperative combat tactics and dog-fighting, but only five or six of his trainees were ready to be deployed, and only two were really what he would call 'combat ready'.  But the Sons were growing and needed pilots.  Like everyone else, the pilots would have to undergo a rigorous slate of "on the job" training.  After a few missions they would be grizzled combat veterans - if they survived.

Ry found her voice first. "Thank you, sir!  If I may ask ... who will populate our flights?"

Ornil nodded at Ken.  "We've selected three of Ken's pilots for promotion to flight status, as well as three others from the primary training group.  Meanwhile Loftharr and Shorykam here will fill out Hammer flight, though we're going to have to make some small modifications to the fighter cockpits to accomodate them."

Ken turned to the two Wookies and bowed slightly.  He'd met a small group of Wookies during his training and had a passing familiarity with their language and culture.  Kashyyyk had suffered greatly during the Empire, with the Wookies used as slave labor and their home planet pillaged and destroyed by the Empire. He raised his hands, palms out, in the greeting of equals he'd learned years before. "Greetings Loftharr, clever flyer of the Kashyyyk.  Greetings Shorykam, lethal dancer of the Kashyyyk.  I welcome you."  Ken bowed again.

Loftharr, slightly taller than his companion, stepped forward and returned Ken's gesture.  He spoke in Shyriiwook, the common trade language of the Wookiee, which sounded mainly like a series of barks, growls and howling.  <<Greetings, Ken Cloud Dancer.  We are welcomed.>> The two Wookiee returned Ken's bow and Ken saw a speculative look cross Zaic'ch's face.  Yes, I am just full of surprises...

Ken grinned and stepped forward, clasping hands with the Wookiees and introducing R'Lyak to them.  "From your names I gather you're experienced pilots?"

<<We are.  Both Dancer and I flew Auzituck gunships on anti-slavery patrols. We killed many slavers and freed many of the People.  Unfortunately we were taken by a Hutt patrol and thrown into the mines three years ago.>> Loftharr replied.  <<Many of our fellows were also killed or enslaved in this way.  With the Sons we hope to be more effective.>>

Ken nodded.  "Well, welcome aboard.  We're glad to have you."

Zaic'ch stepped up.  "So then, lets get started.  Scrubber wants these birds in the air and combat ready as soon as possible, so lets go over the basics and figure out a training schedule to get the entire squadron online..."

Ken fell in with the group, listening intently even as his mind churned.  Wookiees joining the Sons because they're more effective at freeing Wookiees than even the Wookiee resistance groups themselves...  Ken felt a spurt of shame and regret course through him.  He knew that the Mak'Tor had mounted several missions with the Wookiees over the last decade, freeing many slaves, but had they done enough?  These Wookiees hadn't gone to M'Tzigon after all.  They'd stayed here...

Stayed here to help the man who'd freed them.

Yes, Scrubber was building and army.  And a navy.  But how big would it become?  The Avenger fighters were impressive, but they could have just as easily been T-65 X-wings or ARC-170's and performed the same mission.  This was still a raiding force.

Sure it is.  That's why this queeziness in your gut just keeps growing and growing, Ken.

Ken suppressed a sigh.  Zaic'ch was going over the specs of the fighters.  He would have to recall the details later.  For now, he pondered the firepower around him and wondered how much bigger Scrubber intended to build the Sons.  The Sons of Kessel hadn't been this powerful since the Black Sun suppression almost six hundred years earlier.  At some point the Sons of that era had attacked a prominent Black Sun slave owner and released a video of the slave owner being stabbed to death by his own harem slaves.  It was released as a message of hope for slaves and an attempt to intimidate slave
owners.  Instead it sparked a massive reprisal that had nearly destroyed the Sons of Kessel, reducing them to a few scattered refugees that wouldn't be truely effective as an anti-slave operation for centuries.  Now they were in ascendance again, and while he really did sympathize with their cause and want to help them he was concerned.  Black Armor was an unknown.  How did he fit in?  What were the motives of whoever was supplying them with weapons?  The Avenger was a front-line fighter.  You didn't just order up a dozen from Sienar Fleet Systems.  For that matter, the Raider class ships were top-of-the-line as well.  Most of the 'sirs and sirras' of the Sons of Kessel assumed that the ships had come over with defecting Imperial crews, sick of the slavery their government had wrought and now fighting to correct the wrong of their own political masters.  This was aided by the very public face of the ex-Imperial cadre officers that were everywhere.  But Ken had seen the ship's manifests and logs.  These were new construction, either built for the Sons or diverted here from other orders.  By who remained a mystery.

Still... These were raiding forces, perfect for the hit-and-run tactics Scrubber seemed to prefer.  The Avengers were also part of that scheme, designed to work with the Raider-class corvettes in the same way the Men-At-Arms of M'Tzigon trained to fight their ARC-170's with the Corellian "Blockade Runner" Corvettes in the M'Tzigon Navy.  Without something heavier, they couldn't really project power, only raid.  So unless Scrubber went after something bigger...

Ken set the speculation aside.  They were getting into technical issues now.  Better to pay attention.  

No doubt they'd be flying missions in them within the next few days.

[Karmack]

Chapter 5: Divergence
(Part 2)

Scrubber leaned over the table scattered with data pads and hard-copy. He was pulling absentmindedly at his lekku, Black Armor lurking behind him in his usual place. "So ... the Justicar?  There's no way to pull this off yet?"

Kal'Estp glanced at Zaic'ch and Ornil then shook his head sadly.  "Not yet.  We're working on it, but we just don't have the combat power. I've got my best people mining the data, looking for an opening, but..."

The door suddenly swished open, revealing an excited Jorya in the hallway.  "Excuse me Kal, but..."  She suddenly pulled up two steps into the room, her data pad extended half-way to Kal'Estp before she realized who Kal was in fact meeting with.  "Oh.  Excuse me, sir..."

Scrubber laughed and shook his head.  "No, please my sirra!  Come in and share with us what you've found."

Jorya swallowed the lump that formed in her throat and stepped forward, handing the pad to Kal'Estp.  "Sir, we finally cracked the seal logistic logs.  As you know we were tracking down where the slaves that the mining operation sold or traded away actually went."  Jorya's excitement was starting to reassert itself and she practically vibrated with excitement and bottled energy.  "what we found is the ISD Imperius.  She's an "Imperial" class Star Destroyer that defected and went pirate getting hammered at Hoth.  Shorty thereafter loyal elements of the crew tried to take the ship and return to Imperial service but the Captain put the mutiny down.  According to the records from Tisht, he's been escorting Hutt shipment convoys and taking prizes on the side.  He's been selling slaves to the Tisht mines on a regular basis, trading them for supplies and foodstuffs for his ship.  Based on the amount of consumables, we estimate that he's running a skeleton crew.  Barely enough to run the ship.  But even better: We know where he'll be in two weeks and he's expecting a supply ship from Tisht to meet him there with supplies and to take off more slaves.  And we have all of the transponder and recognition codes for the rendezvous."

Jorya's eyes gleamed as she ended her report.  Scrubber's face was totally blank for about twenty seconds as he digested her report, then a wide grin split his face.  "Yes!  Yes, this is the break!"  He turned to the table.  "Gentlemen, break this down.  I want to know for sure if this is feasible.  I am primarily concerned with her possible fighter complement."

One of the CAGs from one of the Raider groups spoke up.  "Sir, we can do that, but with our new augmented strength we should still be able to overpower a single Star Destroyer."  He leaned forward, grinning.  "I mean, if the Rebel Alliance can do it with a couple of squadrons of x-wings and two CR-90 corvettes we can certainly do it with four Raider-class corvettes and four dozen TIE fighters!"

"Agreed." Zaic'ch chimed in.  "Our pilots have the will and the heart, and a few have great skill, but do not forget many of them are still green as grass.  We can do it ... but it may be costly."

Scrubber nodded soberly, his eyes still bright but his mind was now fully engaged.  "We have much to discuss.  Justicar will need to wait for a bit.  This is too good an opportunity to pass up."  He looked at Jorya and his eyes spoke volumes.  "Jorya, my deepest gratitude to you for bringing this to us without delay.  Many of our sirs and sirras will be liberated because of your diligence and courage.  Thank you."

Jorya felt her eyes brighten with unshed tears.  "No, Scrubber.  We thank you."  She said. 

Scrubber stepped over to her and surprised her with a hug.  "You are amazing, my dear sirra.  Go and prepare, you will be a part of this.  I promise."

Jorya left, humming.  No, not just a job, Ken.  This is a calling!  And by the Maker, we will free all of our sirs and sirras!

She was still humming when she fell, exhausted, into her bunk.  She never noticed the dark shadow that followed her all the way back to her quarters.

[Lord_S_Gray]

Cliff hanger much!!  Only bad thing about this chapter was it ended, felt very smooth in terms of how it was written like it should just keep going, like a movie you don’t want to finish!

This makes Dutchmans interlude really click, Ken is in a tough place, he supports the Sons goals, is getting closer to Ry and can see Jorya has gone all in…everything seems to push him to commit more…but he just keeps seeing things that he can’t fit together.

It’s a sign of his maturity (and great character development across this chapter and the interlude combined brilliant collaboration) he knows he actually needs outside help with this situation, and probably instinctually know his parents would likely only side with him – he needs independent eyes.

[Karmack]

Thanks LSG!  That's high praise, and I am humbled.  :-) 

I like Ken in this.  He's going to be tested much more than anyone (including the author!) realized.  I hope and pray I'm up to the challenge of making this work!

And thank you Dutchman for the AWESOME interlude!  It plays with this chapter perfectly!  Looking forward to the next chapter!  :-)