Chapter 13/THEN CFA New Orleans, orbiting Earth February 19, 2366 The Freespacer Bazaar on the CFA-919 New Orleans boasted various artifacts and knickknacks from a thousand worlds, and today Rianna Santova wanted to see them all. At the moment, something had drawn her over to a toy booth- something more like Mayl than herself, but when the Force called, Rianna listened. She noted, with a smile, the new line of ThunderForce: Glory action figures displayed just behind the older releases.... even after three years, the Wedding-Action Hammer and Eiko figure set remained the hottest toy item in the Galaxy, and this dealer had dozens. Rianna had giggled when she walked past the clearance basket next to the booth's doorway- it was stuffed full o another release from the time of the wedding, "Fleet Admiral" Redneck- Kris Overstreet's third incarnation in the long-running figure series. Like the animated version which appeared on occasion in the ThunderForce animated series, the figure was touted as "the independent, aloof commander of a revolution-for-hire, the Confederate Freespacers Mercenary Fleet." The figure itself bore a strong resemblance to a red-headed Captain Nemo, with a huge captain's hat to go with the CFMF dress uniform. The figure made Rianna smile not because it looked nothing like the real man (it was actually a good likeness, unlike the first one (absurdly muscled) and the second one (black hair)), but because when it first came out she caught an earful from Red himself about how the write-up painted far too broad a portrait to be accurate. Of course, you couldn't explain to kids why for every hour Red spent on the bridge of a starship, or in a starfighter cockpit, he spent a day processing paperwork, or performing boring inspections, or holding long, incredibly dull and occasionally nerve-wracking meetings with various chiefs of state. You couldn't explain in a twenty-two minute animated show how a minor recurring cameo character relied on dozens of people to perform the miracles which were explained away in a sentence or two on-camera. And he of all people ought to know. Rianna giggled even more because, at the time he'd said it, Kris had been wearing his Guinea Pig costume for the -other- runaway hit children's show of the decade, 'Washuu's Lab,' into its seventh season and still fresh. Kris played the dumb bunny- er, rodent- to Washuu's know-it-all teacher, and as a result got blown up, drenched, launched, or clobbered at least once per episode- but always in a scientific way. "It's not a bad likeness, Admiral." Rianna blinked and stepped around a display to see the shopkeeper facing a man in Freespacer uniform, blond-red hair, dark red beard, holding one of the figures from the clearance rack. "You can take one if you like." "Not selling good, are they?" Kris asked the half-Gamilon woman, grinning wryly. "Actually, they sold pretty well," she smiled, "but not as well as I thought they would. Still, I made my money back, and more besides. Go ahead," she gestured, "I've still got plenty in storage." "Well... thanks," Kris said, pocketing the figurine. As Rianna watched, the Redneck fished a pen out of his shirt pocket. With a flourish, he signed the name, "Admiral Redneck," on another figurine and handed it to the vendor. "Maybe you can do something with this," he said. "Maybe I can," the boothkeeper said. "See you around, Admiral!" "Take care," Kris said, and he strolled off out of the booth. Rianna followed a hunch and went after him, calling his name through the crowd. "Red!" Kris stopped, turned around, and smiled at Rianna; at the same time, his fumbling sense of the Force touched her own, and she felt a wave of pleasant surprise wash from him. "Long time no see!" she smiled back. "How are you?" "Not too bad, all things considered," Kris said. "How about yourself? Where's Mayl and Subtracto?" "Mayl's off spending her share of our latest haul," Rianna said. "Subtracto's seeing to some maintenance work on the ship... things got a bit hot near the end, but this latest run brought us enough to kick back for a while and relax." "That's terrific," Kris smiled, looking her over. For once, she was fit to look at; her athletic body filled out the brand-new clothes she'd bought yesterday with the first fruits of her most recent mission. "What kind of run was it?" "Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies," Rianna winked. "You taught me that one." "So I did," Kris shrugged. "Here, why don't we get something to eat while we catch up on each other?" "Sounds good to me," Rianna smiled. "You're buying." "I'm buying?" Kris said. "I thought you were in the money." "I am," Rianna grinned. "and I want to stay that way." "What an incredible sight. It's something I never get tired of seeing, no matter where I go." The plates from a satisfying dinner at Kelly's Starview Bistro lay stacked in the center of Kris and Rianna's portside table. Rianna stared out through the porthole into space, looking beyond the multicolored ships flitting around the New Orleans on one errand or another in the Home Fleet. For once, her normally serious face bore a look of dreaminess, as if she were remembering some old fantasy. "You're lucky," Kris said. "You grew up in a world where aliens were commonplace- heck, where you were an alien yourself. I grew up on Earth before First Contact... I was always afraid of the stars." Rianna shook her head. "Hyeruul wasn't exactly rosy for us aliens. The Santovasku Empire was always trying to flatten Hyeruul back in its heyday. Some of the more tightassed Hyelians are still prejudiced against us because of that. Queen Tz'ldah wasn't one of those, thank the gods. Still, if it wasn't for my Mom's training, I think I would've gone around the bend when I was a teenager. I wanted to get away from all those Hyelians who saw me as a Santovasku and nothing more. "'Course it didn't work out quite like I intended, but I got out." Rianna's smile was a bit more rueful than before. "Things almost never turn out as you intend," Kris nodded. "Look at me. I wanted to help fight a revolution, and I ended up with my own little nation to worry about." "That's right, you're the commander of a revolution for hire or something, aren't you?" Rianna grinned wickedly at Kris, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Or something. What it really is, is me keeping about a million people together in a cohesive nation, keeping them employed somehow, keeping a starfleet running, and every now and then going off and Doing the Right Thing. ... " Kris picked up his glass of water and took a sip from it, then added, "There isn't a day that goes by where I don't wish I could just bag it all and go back to being a dumb fighter jock or something." "Oh hush, I'm trying to look up to you as a role model from my childhood days. Don't ruin it." Rianna winked at Kris as she chided him. Kris just barely managed to swallow the drink of water he had in his mouth without blowing it through his nose. "Role model? Role model?" he gasped. "I... I'm flattered... but really, you could pick a better role model than a total idiot like me. I mean, I voluntarily dress up in a Guinea pig costume and get blown up for thirty shows a year so some kids get fun educational TV. Not the sign of a sane individual!" The mental image of Kris in his Guinea pig costume, after one of the ubiquitous explosions, set Rianna to giggling. "You're right, it isn't. ... but it could be worse." "How?" "You could do a guest spot on 'Little Tiki's Neighborhood'!!" Both of them collapsed laughing at this- Little Tiki was the one show that consistently beat both ThunderForce and Washuu's lab, a mindless bit of pabulum for very young Salusian children which, after thirty saccharine years, showed no signs of going away. Sobering up slightly, Rianna leaned back in her chair and explained, "Despite that, Red, you really are a role model. You always seem to be in control of your own destiny, your own life. It was something I didn't really have when I was a kid, something I really wanted. You had it. That's why I admired you." Kris smiled and leaned on the table, resting his head on one hand. "... In charge. It's a nice illusion to have, and it's hell keeping it up, and getting everyone else to go along with it." He waved an arm around him, first at the people in the restaurant, then at the ships outside the viewport. "Any one of these people here could, at any moment, walk out on me, say no to me. At one point, I came close to having all this taken away and destroyed, because of the greed of a handful of people. It takes everything I have just to keep up appearances, to play the part of Admiral Overstreet, or Redneck... when really, I'd rather just be Kris. I've gotta be an idiot for keeping on like this." His smile became a bitter smirk. "Hell, I don't have a fleet. The fleet has _me._" "I've heard that before," Rianna grinned, then added a few seconds later, "You sound like my Dad. He has that same sense of obligation. ... He stuck with it. I don't think he was an idiot for doing that." Kris shrugged. "I dunno... y'know, sometimes I just get so damn lonely. I mean, I don't have that many people I can talk to like this... you, Washuu, Sparky... " Kris fell silent as he ran through his list of friends and acquaintances. "...actually, these days that's about it. I haven't seen Martin and his wild bunch since the wedding, I ran into Yuri two years ago on Dunwarpin..." Kris fell silent for a bit, and Rianna sensed a deeply buried sense of... loneliness... rise to the surface of his emotions. He seemed distressed as he realized just how out of touch with his old friends he really was... and Rianna wonder just how much time he'd had lately to make new ones, herself excepted. Kris stared at the table, murmuring, "One of these days, I want to find someone I can settle down with, who can help me feel... well, help me not feel so tired so much, someone who can be there for me when I need them, or even when I don't." The moment had come, Rianna sensed. This is why the Force brought them together this day. "Listen," Rianna smiled, placing a friendly hand atop his. "You'll find somebody, or they'll find you. Don't worry about it. Just be true to yourself and see feelings for what they are, and you'll find that special person. Maybe sooner than you think." The Sith teachings had little or nothing to say on soothing pain, but Rianna felt just a little bit better for doing it anyway. It felt right. Kris leaned back, taking his hands away from Rianna's, smiling ruefully. "You're right. Thanks for letting me vent at you for a while. I just get so... " He held up his arms, hands palm-up, and shrugged. "...well, you know how I feel, hell, you know me better than I know me." Leaning back in his chair, he muttered, "I just wish it'd hurry up and happen. I'm getting sick of waiting." "Hang tough, Red," Rianna smiled. "I used to watch my Dad get sick of waiting for stuff all the time. He lived through it. You will too." "Maybe," Kris shrugged, then reached into his pocket and tossed a twenty-Mark note and a few singles onto the check tray. As he stood up, he said, "Let's go see if we can keep Mayl from squandering the rest of your money, hm?" "Now *there's* an adventure." Rianna grinned as she followed him out of the restraunt and back into the anarchy of the Bazaar. Chapter 13/NOW Deep Space off Wilderness Station August 23, 2388 #i... don't... goof... very... often...# %...it's very dark out here...quiet...lonely...% #can't... last... much longer...# %...deep space...dad had a dream about this...something like this......maybe i'll tell him about this......if i make it back...% #no... can't... give up... need to... be here...# %i have to make it back... i need to be here...... I need to be _here_.% *ping* "Rianna." Rianna slipped out of the meditative trance and allowed her senses to rise back to the surface. Subtracto had called. "I'm here," she said, not opening her eyes. "We're approaching the vicinity of Wilderness Station," Subtracto reported. "I suggest you wake up and take manual control before we crash into something." Rianna opened her eyes and sat up, peering out of the darkened cockpit at the space beyond. Wilderness was visible in the distance . At long last, they had made it back to civilization... barely. Fields of debris clouded her view of the station, and she stared so long at the foggy outline of Wilderness that she nearly missed seeing the large chunk of metal spinning slowly towards the Centurion. When she -did- notice it, she moved. Rianna ran her hands along the consoles with practiced ease, quickly bringing up all the dormant systems back up to full strength. The ship hummed and whined as the the fusion plant came back to full operating power. Grateful for small favors like a working reactor, Rianna pushed the control stick to the left and the maneuvering jets fired, pushing the ship to port and away from the starfighter-sized piece of metal that would have otherwise impacted with the right wing and made life difficult. As she weaved the Centurion through the growing fields of debris, a corner of Rianna's mind caught new sounds coming from the crew quarters: "huh--whuhWAAAAA!" *THUD* "Oops," Rianna deadpanned. Subtracto withheld comment. "owow..." the noise from the rear continued. "huh? power... *HOME*!" Rianna sighed, preparing herself for the next round of hysterics. Being stranded in deep space without a hyperdrive was bad enough, but being stranded in deep space without a hyperdrive and with an increasingly manic Hyelian copilot, for almost two weeks, had rapidly strained her patience to its limits. Regular meditation was all that had kept her from snapping. Now that they were finally near a starbase, she hoped her patience would hold out long enough to get the ship into dock. Just a little farther. "Rianna!" the elf called out. "Are we there yet?? Did we make it?? Can I have another cupcake now??" "We're in the local space--" Rianna started to say. "*Yes!* Open spaces fresh water hot showers real FOOD!" the raving continued, getting louder as Mayl finally exploded into the cockpit, still trailing a comet-tail of bedding. "I swear I'm gonna kiss the flight deck when I..." she trailed off as she looked at the not-light of the not-hangar they weren't in. Nothing but the same blackness of space and a lot of debris. "...oh." "We're in the local space," Rianna continued evenly. "But first we have to get through this mess..." She banked the Centurion over one of the larger hulks, this one still recognizable for what it had once been: a GENOM Interdictor with its reactor blown out the keel. The once mighty ship drifted with its companions in the sea of wreckage, which dozens of salvage vessels -- some Freespacer, some GENOM, some nonaligned -- crawled through like so many carrion scavengers. "Noy jitat..." Mayl gasped. "What happened to all those ships?" Looking out at the debris field, she picked out bits and pieces of familiar-looking wreckage; a solar panel from a TIE, the utility fin from a Freespacer corvette, the engine compartment of an ancient Zardon-design cruiser. "Ri..." Mayl said slowly, looking around the wreckage, "are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "I'm thinking this was one hell of a fight," Rianna said solemnly. Just ahead she could see the shattered remains of more and more Freespacer vessels. Also the burned out wedges of a few GENOM Interdictors and Ikazuchis. Those Interdictors would have been bad news for the Freespacer craft... and judging by the much higher ratio of Freespacer dead in this graveyard, they *had* been bad news. she thought to herself. She hoped Redneck had survived this madness. "May they all rest in peace," was all she said aloud. "No!" Mayl said, ignoring Rianna's solemn tone. "Look at all that neat stuff out there! Think of it! Top of the line ships, with top of the line parts, all spread across space! Think how much MONEY we could make off just a few pieces..." Rianna stared at the elf, whose eyes had apparently turned into ruupi signs. Definitely been in the ship too long... Mayl's eyes and smile widened, if that was possible, and she literally hopped in place as her fingerless-gloved hand pointed out something she'd just spotted. "Oo! Oo! Looklooklook! That fighter's almost intact, just the cockpit's wrecked! I'll bet its fusion plant still works!!" By this time Mayl had her nose pressed against the glass and Rianna found the sight rather disturbingly similar to a child at the window of a candy store, complete with drool. The image was completed posthaste when the elf whirled and clasped her hands, pleading with glassy eyes: "Can I pull in a couple things, pleaseplease*pleeeease*? I'll only take a couple minutes! I promise!" Rianna weighed her options. Much as she wanted to just get the ship into dock and get out of it as soon as she could, Mayl's salvage suggestion did have merit. They did, after all, need cash to pay for the repairs the Centurion needed if it was ever going to fly again. Sighing mentally, she noted the direction Mayl was drooling in, and edged the Centurion in closer to the derelict ship she saw there, while an overjoyed Mayl quickly hopped into the copilot's seat and armed the tractor beam system. "Come on, Seven!" Mayl muttered, grinning like a maniac as her fingers flew with uncharacteristic grace over the control console. "Mama needs a new hyperdrive!" Watching Mayl work the controls of the tractor beam, Rianna wondered just how long this was really going to take... with the cargo hold empty, Mayl was unlikely to stop at just "a couple things". As the brilliant blue beam lanced out and locked onto the rear quarter of their salvage target, Rianna sighed and sank back into her own chair, resigning herself to a longer wait, letting her eyes and her thoughts wander out into the devastation beyond... %...i need to be here...% Rianna blinked, an odd feeling coming over her. There was something...... or was it someone...? She couldn't tell. She closed her eyes, focusing... %...i need to be here...... %...no, i need to be _there_...% She hadn't consciously realized she'd increased the power to the thrusters until Mayl abruptly whined at her. "Riiiii, what are you doing?? Slow down! I'm trying to get some money here!" "Let it go, Mayl." "What?!" Mayl protested. "But I've almost--" "*DON'T*. Argue. With. Me." Rianna suddenly growled in a Force-tipped voice that promised a world of pain if not obeyed. Mayl gulped and, with a tearful "bye bye money", shut off the beam, her ears drooping. Without another word, Rianna pushed the thrusters to full power, taking the Centurion on an almost straight path through the carnage for a minute or two. When she finally did begin to decelerate, Mayl saw that they were pulling up alongside a Freespacer X-Wing. Or rather, what was left of a Freespacer X-Wing, which is to say, not very much. It was almost broken in two, with a gaping hole where the astromech droid should have been -- Subtracto muttered something unintelligible at the sight -- one engine and two s-foils blown completely away, the other three engines hopelessly ruined, the cockpit canopy shattered into tiny fragments. In short, it was quite dead and, in Mayl's eyes, worthless. It might pay for their docking fee at Wilderness, but that was about it. "This is it," Rianna said, mostly to herself. Mayl had arched an ear and was on the edge of asking what in Ghann'yn's name she was talking about when Rianna spoke again: "Get a lock on the cockpit of that fighter." It was a command, not a request. Mayl obliged, and again the blue beam lanced forth. "Tractors locked... got it." "Let's see, now..." Rianna brought up a display on her MFD, studying it closely. "oh ho! There she is!" "There what is?" "Focus the beam on the cockpit and turn up the pull." "Why?" Mayl asked, perplexedly studying what her own MFD was telling her. "There's nothing there except that grakky old corpse." "That's not a corpse." "What?" "Subtracto, pressurize the cargo bay as soon as she's in!" Rianna rose from her chair and headed back into the body of the ship. Mayl was thoroughly confused by now, but nevertheless did as she'd been asked. Soon enough, the tractor beam had pulled the body out of the wreck and over to the Centurion, and the loud whirring and clanking of machinery announced that the automatic loaders had done their job, followed by a hissing noise and a slight change in the cabin pressure as atmosphere flooded the cargo bays. Not knowing what else to do now, Mayl hurried after Rianna. By the time Mayl negotiated the hatchway leading to the cargo bay, Rianna was leaning over what they'd recovered. Mayl hurried over to take a closer look. Whoever (or whatever) it was, it didn't look very good, even for a corpse. Mayl began removing what remained of the flight suit; when she removed the helmet, a shower of dull red hair fell out; only a few strands still clung to the scalp and eyebrows. The pilot's skin had turned an ugly, morbid gray, tough and cold. The face had withered into a death masque, eyes mercifully closed. Here and there on the body, the wrinkled gray skin was smoother and tender, apparently scarred and healed. Blood flaked off with every minor shift of the body, leaving piles of red flakes on the deck. "Yuck!" Mayl wrinkled her noise and quirked her ears. "Who's the peihaat slime?" Rianna said nothing, just peered more closely at the withered form. The body showed no pulse, no respiration, not the tiniest outward sign of life. And yet... She reached out and touched her fingertips to the forehead... #kris is alive kris cares about me!# Rianna almost jumped back, her suspicion finally confirmed. "....it's Washuu." "Washuu? Can't be! What'd Washuu be doing in a starfighter?" "Living." "Ri, these ears aren't just to make me look cute," Mayl quipped in her best attempt at a get-in-touch-with-reality voice. "If there was anything working in that husk, I'd know!" *Thup...thump.* A heartbeat. From the body. It stopped Mayl dead in her tracks, both physical and mental, and she just stared. "By the two moons..." she breathed at length. "She's alive." Rianna had become deadly serious. "Get the medkit, then contact the station and--" *WHOOM!* "What was that?!" Mayl shrieked as the ship rocked violently, nearly throwing them off their feet. "Ladies," Subtracto's voice came over the speakers, with more than a little urgency. "Could I direct your attention to the five heavily armed ships surrounding us?" Rianna came charging back up to the cockpit, having taken only a moment to tell Mayl to stay put and keep Washuu from getting thrown around, and jumped into her seat, immediately finding herself facing two large salvage freighters, both heavily armed and armored and, according to the targeting display, well-shielded as well. The radar also reported two more hostile ships to either side, and one more to the rear, and longer range scans indicated that more vessels were converging on this position. Rianna was about to open a channel to one of the freighters and demand to know what was going on, when the vessel to their portside beat her to it: her MFD resolved into a communications screen and the image of a poorly dressed and poorly groomed human male presented itself. "Afternoon," the pirate leader said with a wry grin. "Me and my buddies here, we couldn't help noticing how you dropped that nice expensive fusion plant back there, and came running over here to get something out of this old fighter." "So why don't you go pick up the fusion plant," Rianna replied, not smiling at all. "And mind your own business? What I salvage is my business." "Sorry, babe," the pirate sneered. "I dunno what you pulled outta that fighter -- my people couldn't get a good look. But whatever it is, it must be pretty valuable if you dropped a high-end fusion plant to get it. Just hand it over and we can forget about this, huh?" Rianna glared back at the cretin, feeling the power of the Dark Side quietly welling up inside her. These fuckers had no intention of letting her get away, that was clear. "And supposing I don't want to hand it over?" "Then you're gonna be sorry you messed with us, sweetheart," another pirate voice said, prompting a couple chuckles in the background. "Uh-huh," Rianna quipped, arming both her missile launchers and priming her Steltek guns (special plasma weapons based on Santovasku technology, built for her by a good friend and fellow civ-hunter). In an instant she had trained both weapons on the freighter directly in front of her. "Well I've got news for you assholes: you picked the wrong privateer to mess with." With that she squeezed the triggers. Two Spiculum IR missiles shot from the front launchers, as the Steltek guns spat several fast-moving blasts of green fire at the bridge of the freighter. The blasts tore into the forward deflector shields, knocking them down to a meager 20% in a matter of seconds, and before the startled bridge crew even had time to react to that, the missiles struck. The first one killed the shields completely, and the second one passed unhindered through the bridge viewports, detonating inside. There was a substantial explosion, and the freighter drifted away, lifeless, as the Centurion kicked in the afterburners and rocketed forward, narrowly avoiding a huge hail of laser and particle fire from the other vessels. "WHAT THE--?!?" the pirate leader hollered, forgetting for a moment that he was still on the open frequency. "HOW THE FUCK DID SHE DO THAT?!" Not one to pass up an invitation, Rianna activated her comm. "Simple. I have a better ship, and better guns, than all of your sorry asses put together. And I'm also smarter than you, asshole." "NAIL HER ASS!!" he screeched in response. That bitch was gonna pay for what she'd done. Rianna kept her finger on the afterburner switch, trying to put as much distance between her and the pirates as possible. Her bloodlust, encouraged by her tapping of the Dark Side, cried out for combat, to teach these losers a lesson they'd never forget. The rest of her, however, was mindful of the fact that she how had a very fragile passenger in the hold, which made combat maneuvering a hazardous proposition. More importantly, good fusion plant and working guns aside, the ship was liable to fold at any time, given sufficient provocation. Better to run like hell and get into port. She channeled her anger by focusing her will in front of the ship, willing all the myriad pieces of debris to *get out of the way*. And they did just that, leaping out of the flight path just in time for the gunboat to rocket past. "Centurion 295-CH to Wilderness Station," Rianna called. "I could use a little help out here!" The freighters and corvettes behind her were in pursuit, making surprisingly good speed, while a new trio of corvettes, these if anything better armed than her pursuers, formed ranks and turned to face her. The missile lock warning on her radar pinged, and then warned of an incoming projectile from the rear. No, make that several incoming projectiles. The scanners identified them as concussion missiles, fast enough to overtake her even with full afterburner. And again, maneuvers which would normally shake them were not an option. "Damn," she growled. "Subtracto, take the rear turret and intercept those missiles!" "Acknowledged," Subtracto replied. Thus temporarily relieved of that problem, Rianna was left free to concentrate on the one which might be ahead- the corvettes between her and Wilderness. If they were hostiles as well, there was going to be a bit of a problem... "295-CH," a communication came through. "This is corvette group Crimson, Wilderness Station Defense; we have you under our guns. We'll get these sharks off your tail." The three corvettes of Crimson group accelerated, and belatedly the Centurion's IFF systems tagged them as friendlies. "Thanks, Crimson," Rianna replied. "But I need some anti-missile action and I need it fast!" Subtracto had managed to down the closest missiles with the rear tachyon guns, but the corvettes had launched several more in the meantime. "We're on it, 295-CH." Rianna shot through the corvette group, which opened up with its own weapons as soon as she was clear. A moment later, the missile lock warning on the radar went out, and Subtracto reported several detonations of anti-missile rockets behind them. Finally relaxing, Rianna released the afterburner key and throttled back to a safer speed for navigating the debris field, the immediate danger past. Calling up a rear view on her MFD, she watched as the two battle groups engaged, and saw several more ships from all sides joining in the melee as well. In another time and place she might have stopped to watch the show, but she had more immediate concerns at the moment. "Wilderness, I have a medical situation," Rianna keyed her comm. "Need priority clearance, please." "Clearance granted, 295-CH," came the reply. "Medical crew will be, y'know, on station at landing bay 2, slip 15. Anything else you need?" "Yes, I need you to deliver a message to Redneck, priority one subetheric, yesterday if not sooner." "Who?" the comm officer asked, a bit perplexed. "Admiral Kris Overstreet, the _Freespacer_fleet_commander_??" Rianna fought back a wave of anxious fury, suddenly reminded that Redneck was not one of the better known citizens of the galaxy, despite his exploits over the past centuries. (Not unlike her own father, she noted wryly.) "Oh, uh...isn't that this guy they had, y'know, on Friday's rerun of ThunderForce Gold?" The controller obviously had no semblance of a clue, or reality. "Never mind, control," Rianna grumbled, knowing the message would never get there in time at this rate. "I'll take care of that myself. Just have that medical team ready." "Roger that, 295-CH. Wilderness out." Rianna muttered a few choice obscenities under her breath as soon as the connection was cut. "Subtracto," she ordered. "Go to autopilot and get the ship into dock. I'll be in the rear." "Acknowledged, Rianna," Subtracto replied. "Going to autopilot." With that taken care of, Rianna got up and hurried back toward the cargo bay, weighing her options. *Thup...thump.* Mayl's ears twitched at the sound; otherwise, Rianna might not have known what Mayl was talking about when she entered the cargo bay. "Five _minutes_?" Mayl said, looking down at the body. "Why is her heartbeat so slow?" "Mayl," Rianna replied, clearly low on patience. "If I shot you five or six times with a starship-grade laser and left you in hard vacuum for over a week, how fast would _your_ heart be beating?" "...um. Okay, yyyeah," the Hyelian answered, a trickle of sweat running down the side of her face. Rianna looked Washuu over and weighed the options. From what little she knew of Washuu, there was very little any doctor on Wilderness could do for her. At 20,000 years of age, nobody really knew what her physiology was really like except perhaps for Washuu herself. Rianna's Force talents didn't include healing, and all the Force sensitivity in the world wouldn't do Rianna a bit of good, for Washuu was Force-blind, making Rianna's mental skills useless. No, from what Rianna knew of Washuu, there was only one person who might possibly be in a position to understand, and deal with, this situation. "Mayl," she said as she sat down, cross-legged, in front of Washuu. "Do me a favor. If I pass out, make sure I don't fall on top of her, okay?" "Uh... right, sure," Mayl said, ears quirked in confusion. Rianna took in and let out a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to focus. She knew he was alive; somehow, at least that much was certain. Now, wherever he was, she had to find him. Tapping once more into the power of the Force, feeling the Dark Side reach out to her once more and grant her the power she needed to realize her aims, she sent her awareness outward, searching... calling... * * * "Red, please, let me in." "Lieutenant, I'm sorry, but Commodore Overstreet has left specific instructions not to be disturbed." "Kris, please, let me talk to you, let someone talk to you!" "Lieutenant Curtiss, please, I -must- ask you to leave this office immediately." "Kris, for God's sake, let me IN!!" Kris sat in his office on the CFA Washington, staring listlessly at the reports from the Quartermaster office, paying little attention to the commotion outside. He didn't care about how expensive raw materials for shipbuilding had suddenly become, or how the new trainees would be short of equipment, or any of a number of other problems the bureaucrats were shoving back at him. He didn't even notice Terri's shrieks stop, totally missed her boots stamping away down the corridor. Duty had sustained him after Wilderness, duty and an indistinct urge for revenge. With the war over, his sense of duty had collapsed, replaced by a deep depression which had only lifted slightly that night two days before with Rayna, when he'd managed to get stinking drunk... and which came rushing back when he read that message... Looking out the window into the Home Fleet, Kris thought of the losses they'd incurred. Twenty thousand dead at Wilderness. Another thirty dead in the big battle, and three more with the starfighter combat over Zeta Cygni and the AT&T. Each time, as he considered each death, his mind returned to one name. Washuu. For so long, he'd taken the little mad scientist for granted, the stable anchor he held on to as all the others around him changed, grew older, and more often than not, died. The person who understood him better than anyone- than Sparky, than Rianna, than Terri, anyone. And he'd totally missed the fact, somehow, that he loved her. Goddamn pride, he thought, holding a grudge for four hundred years, ignoring your feelings, then not seeing them for what they were. And now it's too late... Another crying fit took him deeper into depression. Had anyone been there to see, the hint of a red aura might have caught their eye, as Kris let the wave of despair and regret wash over him. He almost missed the sudden jab of cold fear in his gut- it resonated so well with his current emotion- but the voiceless, wordless message which followed caught his attention. %Red.% An image of a man in a windbreaker, tall, unafraid, and perpetually cheerful, popped into Kris' mind... an idealized image, he noted, of himself. *I am here,* he responded, and he reached back along the link, securing it with his own meager skills. His mind formed another image, which fluttered down the link before he could recall it; a dark woman, armored and caped and yet also wearing a dingy flight suit; *Rianna.* %Come here.% Another image, a debris field, a large station- Wilderness. *Why?* he asked, confusion and pain bleeding into the sending. Why should he do anything, anymore? %She needs you now.% And a third image appeared. *Washuu...* Kris gulped, shaking violently. *I come,* he sent, and the link collapsed. Kris fell back into his seat, sweating, cold tremors seizing his body. God help me, he thought, I have to get to Wilderness. Right this fucking minute. Steadying himself as much as he could, he leaped up and ran through the office door, scattering loose papers and datapadds behind him. Mayl caught Rianna as she fell forward, gasping for air, exhausted. "He... he is coming," Rianna gasped, eyes still closed, voice barely audible. "Who? Ri, who's coming, what are you talking about?" Mayl asked. "He is coming," Rianna repeated, and then she sagged limply in Mayl's hands. Her breathing smoothed and deepened, and before Mayl realized it, Rianna was fast asleep. "Ri?" Mayl asked, shaking Rianna slightly. When this produced no response, she shook harder, shouting, "Rianna, wake _up!_" Rianna didn't even flinch. Ears drooping, Mayl laid Rianna beside Washuu's body. Just great, she thought to herself, first we lose a great chance to clean up on salvage, then we have to fight off a bunch of pirates to save someone who may or may not be alive, and now I've got _two_ bodies to hand over to the medics when we land. Why couldn't privateering ever be easy? Ch. 14/THEN CFA Washington May 22, 2300 ".. and therefore, by two-thirds majority vote on two-thirds of all ships in the Tactical Fleet, the Confederate Freespacers Mercenary Fleet issues Vice Admiral Robert Hemphill, a vote of No Confidence, and hereby demands that he resign from his position as Commander in Chief of all CFMF forces, effective immediately. Refusal to comply will result in a courts martial as per the guidelines set down in Article XVI of the CFMF Book of Regulations." Kris nodded with satisfaction as he slid the index cards into his dress tunic's breast pocket. As of 2032 hours Fleet time the previous night, the words had the weight of law; rather than call for a fleet-wide election, which Hemphill would have denied or stalled, Kris had organized individual elections on each ship, one at a time, apparently as a spontaneous reaction to Hemphill's ultratimid leadership. Of course, it fooled nobody. It wasn't meant to. But the individual elections were out of Hemphill's hands to control, leaving him helpless before the law of the fleet. Of course, the vote claimed a couple of casualties. JJ #15 had been the first, court-martialed and dismissed, taking the fall for leading the renegade CFMF forces' defection. As with any Vote of Confidence, a number of captains and first officers also fell by the wayside: some of them Hemphill's political cronies, others just unpopular. Kris took notes on each officer removed; some of them were worth keeping around for future commands, if the openings came around. Hemphill, of course, was not. Kris looked at the reflection in the mirror- not all that different, really, from the Condorcets, only with dark eyes and blonde-red hair instead of the straw-yellow hair and blue-grey eyes the many JJs had sported down the years. His new uniform fit excellently, the grey fabric and gold trim actually complimenting his body instead of hanging on him like a pillowcase. The door chimed, drawing Kris out of his self-examination. "C'min!" he called, giving his tunic a last brush before turning to face whoever was coming through the door. Lieutenant Azland stepped through the door, her posture rigid and military- robotic? Kris smirked to himself, remembering her origins. "What can I do for your, Lieutenant?" It didn't quite register with Kris that May's eyes had turned bright, glowing red. May's arm jerked upwards, a BlasTech BL-22 holdout blaster pistol dropping into her palm as it came up, shots firing as soon as her hand wrapped around the grip. Kris grunted as the first couple of bolts caught him by surprise, slamming into his heart, burning a hole in his chest... Kris fell to his knees, forced himself to concentrate, relax, open himself to the Force... he reached out mentally, sensed the power pack in the blaster's magazine, quietly drained it, letting the last few shots get absorbed by his system. As he stood up and ignited his beamstaff, his chest finished healing itself, the skin growing back beneath his scorched, bloodied tunic. "Why?" Kris said quietly, unconsciously shifting into a defensive posture with his staff. "Why are you trying to kill me?" May made no sound, dropped the gun, then slid beneath and to the right of Kris' staff, rising up just beside his right shoulder. With her right hand, she gripped his shoulder, while her left hand rose to deliver a killer blow to the back of his neck. Kris leaned backward, spun his hands around, brought his beamstaff up across May's upper right arm, severing it in a spray of sparks and Buma nutrient fluid. With May's lower arm hanging limp from his shoulder, fingers still closed in a crushing grip, Kris pivoted on his right foot, stepping away from May's blow. As May's arm came down, Kris twirled his staff around his body, cutting the arm off at the shoulder, watching dispassionately as the flesh and metal fell to the ground, leaving torn skin and titanium gears sticking out of the Buma. "You can't win, May," Kris said quietly. "Talk to me. You don't have to die like this. Why did you attack me?" <-----------------------------> <-----------------------------> May collapsed to the floor, her eyes returning to their normal purple color, her shoulder and arm stump leaking traces of nutrient fluid into the carpeting. She looked up at Kris, blinked, and said quietly, "I appear to have lost both my arms, Admiral. Can you tell me what has happened?" Kris let the beamsaber wink out of existence and knelt beside the wounded Buma. "Status report, Lieutenant," he said quietly. "My memory has... holes... in it, Admiral," May said at last. Her eyes shifted in and out of focus, her voice slurred slightly as she added, "My data banks seem to be partially corrupted... I am receiving multiple errors... " Her eyes focused on Kris again, and a single tear crept down her cheek. "The corruption appears to be growing.... Admiral, I'm scared." Kris lifted May's torso off the floor, looked into the dark, darker eyes, whispered, "Can't you do anything to stop the corruption?" May tried to nod; the motion degenerated into a few stiff jerks down and up. "Iii... I think so, Admiral. Emergency protection mode-" May's body went stiff and cold, her eyes darkening almost to total blackness. "May?" Kris gave May a quick shake. "Lieutenant Azland, respond." May didn't make a move. Kris gripped May's maimed, motionless body to his chest and shouted, "WASHUU!!!" The sound echoed through the corridors of the still awakening ship. "WASHUUUUUU!!!!!" Ch. 14/NOW Washuu's Lab August 23, 2388 "ZATHRAS!" The voice which roared through the Lab bounced off the walls, conduits, tanks and landscaping with the wild energy of a desperate man. The sound carried far beyond the range of intelligibility, echoing miles away from the main 'foyer' region into dark corners where even the Lab's rightful mistress seldom went anymore. It was hardly the most efficient method of summoning someone- after all, the Lab spread out among the surfaces of five M-class planets- but it was none the less impressive. The object of the summons shambled down one of the corridors into the 'foyer' of the Lab. "Zathras is coming," he mumbled. "Zathras was in the middle of packing his favorite socks, but that is not important, no. Socks knit in the Atlantean Empire, no, those are not important. Great Professor Washuu's experiment, that-" Kris grabbed Zathras' vest and stared down into his lumpy, hairy face. "I need to move the Lab door," he snarled, "show me how it's done. NOW." "Zathras does not know." Zathras smiled reassuringly as Kris lifted him off the floor. "Knowing, Zathras would show. Not knowing, Zathras cannot show. Zathras would love to show, but Zathras does not have," click-click-click, "have the knack." Kris dropped Zathras back to the floor, mouthing silent obscenities as he looked around in frustration. Finally, his eyes rested on the lonely holoterm still active in the foyer. Pointing to the terminal, he asked, "Do you know how to use that?" Zathras shrugs. "Zathras thinks he does. Of course, Zathras has been wrong before, but Zathras will try his best." "Good," Kris nodded. "I need to make an interdimensional call. You've got five minutes to show me how." The paramedic crew scrambled up the Centurion's main gangplank almost as soon as it dropped onto the deck of Wilderness Station's Hangar Two. The leader of the group paid little attention to the mess, or the fact that the elf piloting the ship was still in her nightgown, and asked, "Where's the medical emergency?" "Cargo hold," she replied immediately, favoring the team with a glance before marching ahead of them. "This way. I've done everything I can to keep things stable." The medics followed the elf through the narrow passageway through the crew compartments and into the cargo bay. Once inside, the medics looked at the two figures lying flat on the deck- one a withered, scarred mummy, the other an unconscious young woman with jet-black hair and golden horns- for all of a second before bringing up a stretcher and loading Rianna onto it. "Don't worry," the medics' leader said, "she should be all right now." Mayl gave the leader a blank stare as he watched his crew start to wheel Rianna's limp form back the way they'd come. "Um, hey!" she barked at last, grabbing him by the arm as he was about to follow them. "What, what -- where are you doing?" The medic rolled his eyes and said, "Where we are going is sickbay. What we are doing is taking this young lady there. You -did- call us for a medical emergency, remember?" "Yeah, I did, and you left her _lying_ there!" she huffed, putting her fists on her hips. "Rianna'll get better if she has time to sleep it off, but Professor Hakubi needs help _now_!" "You mean -that?-" the medic asked, jerking a thumb at the other body on the deck. "Miss, I hate to break this to you, but the only help that'll do -that- any good will be a mortician." "Look," Mayl snapped, now becoming visibly impatient, "I know she looks bad -- first I saw of her, I thought the same thing -- but I heard her heart beat! She _is_ alive in there, just _barely_, and she needs help!" "All right, all right," the medic groaned, pulling out a tricorder and holding it over the body. "What species is she?" Mayl opened her mouth to reply, paused, looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "I'm not exactly sure ... some sort of prolonged human, I'd guess. She's looked about twelve for as long as I've known her." "Hm." The medic looked at the scanner's readout for several moments before closing it up again. "Miss, I'm sorry, but what you heard must have been some random spasm. I'm only reading a trace of brain activity, her blood pressure is nonexistent, and there's no sign of movement or chemical activity at the cellular level." The tricorder beeped as Mayl's ears picked up another of those slow thup-thumps. "There's another one now," the medic said, not bothering to reopen the tricorder. "There it was!" Mayl chirped frantically, gesturing at the withered body. "Another heartbeat! That one was ... almost six minutes! Tch'unnk'luongo, she's getting worse! Please, get a gurney up here quick!" "Now, look, miss," the medic said firmly, "we're already stuffed full of refugees and casualties from the past week. Thanks to those scavengers fighting each other, we're getting more in every hour. We're operating with volunteers and conscripts and half the equipment and supplies we should have. We don't have time or facilities to waste on a dead woman. I'm sorry." "She's _not_ _dead_, you j'ttatten--!" Mayl cut off her next line of curses, and instead emphasized her point by hoisting the hapless physician up off his feet by his lapels and roaring, "Get that gurney up here or they're going to have to send one FOR YOU!" The medic stared down at the furious elf and, rather than argue, waved to one of the other medics. "Do what she says," he said shakily. "THANK you," Mayl sighed, dropping him to his feet. She stood and watched while the medics loaded the body onto another gurney and wheeled both down the loading ramp. She followed in their steps as they wheeled them down the concourse, through an elevator, and into a triage room in the station's main sickbay, along with dozens of other forms, all quiet. Left alone with Rianna and the mummy, Mayl turned her attention to the withered figure on the gurney. What did you want to fly into that battle for? she thought. You never went into a battle before. You hated fighting. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen you leave your lab... Mayl's thoughts were interrupted by a quiet exchange just beyond the sickbay doors. The first voice she recognized as one of the orderlies: "Sir, you aren't permitted in there." The second voice, which Mayl really hadn't expected, at least not so soon, said in that funny way Rianna used when she really wanted something badly, >>I have a perfect right to see my patient.<< "You have a perfect right to see your patient," the orderly echoed. >>There is nothing wrong with me going in,<< Redneck's voice continued. "There is nothing wrong with you going in," the orderly replied. (>>Have a nice day, sir,<<) Redneck's voice muttered. "Have a nice day, sir," the orderly replied. A moment later, a wild-haired, anxious-looking Kris Overstreet strode into the room, followed closely by Gina Shannon. Both wore lab coats, although Red looked like he'd slept in his. When he saw Mayl, his scowl turned into a wild, anxious stare. "Mayl!" he gasped. "Thank God! Where's Washuu?" Mayl's fearful eyes regarded him for a moment before her hand dutifully pointed to a stretcher, where the small, frail form of Washuu Hakubi lay in alarming stillness. Red's jaw dropped visibly at the sight of the shriveled body on the stretcher. "Oh, my God..." he gasped. Holding a hand out, he barked, "Scanner." Gina dropped a tricorder into the waiting hand, and with rapid, fumbling movements, Kris opened the case, pulled out the remote sensor and ran it across the body, muttering incomprehensibly as he did so. "Her..." Mayl's voice caught in her throat. She swallowed and continued, "Her last heartbeat was ... about three minutes ago. They're ... about six-and-a-half minutes apart now ... I hope you have an idea..." "...so do I," Red muttered. "She's in hibernation, must have been for days and days..." He slapped the tricorder's case shut, then tried to replace the sensor, reopened the tricorder, dropped the sensor into place, and slung the still-open scanner over his shoulder. "Help me with the stretcher, for God's sake, we gotta get her to the Lab, come on, Christ this is all my fault..." Mayl moved quickly, taking the foot of the gurney with both hands and guiding it in the Admiral's wake. "We wouldn't've even found her without Rianna's help ... I think she heard her calling for help or something. She collapsed after calling for you; she's a couple stretchers over that way." She waved momentarily with one arm. "Bring her too," Kris ordered, not looking up. Under his voice he began muttering, as his hand guided the gurney forward, "christWashuulivedammitcomeonstaywithus..." Gina stepped aside to allow Redneck to pass, then walked back to help Mayl with the second gurney. Mayl already had Rianna's stretcher pointed in Red's direction when Gina grabbed the opposite edge and pulled it forward. "So," Mayl asked quietly, "d'you think'll pull through?" "I honestly don't know," Gina said. "If she doesn't, though, it'll kill Kris." "I -meant- him," Mayl whispered, giving a long, worried look to the back of Redneck's head before returning her concentration to the task at hand. "I don't know about you," Gina answered, "but if it weren't for the fact that he knows Washuu's system as well as anyone, if not better, I wouldn't let him near anything sharp." The three proceeded in silence (except for Kris' mumbling) to a pair of sliding doors with a stylized GD emblem printed in gold on them. The G and D parted, and the trio stepped through them into Gina's personal lab complex, and through a second set of doors into the foyer of Washuu's lab. Once Gina's Lab Door closed behind them, Kris brought the procession to a halt, unpacked his tricorder, and waved its sensor over Rianna. Nodding at the result, he waved towards a distant doorway. "Gina, take Ri over to the bunk and get her bedded in. She'll be fine with some sleep." Turning to Mayl, he asked, "How did you find Washuu, anyway? I thought she was blasted to bits." "That's not too far from the truth," she replied quietly. "We were about to pick up some prime parts for salvage when Rianna had me dump what I was after and flew us to what was left of a Dragonfly. It was completely demolished -- even the service droid was gone -- but she was still in one piece, in the cockpit." "My God," Kris gasped. Turning away from Mayl and the gurney, he bellowed, "ZATHRAS!!!" Mayl's ears rang from the sheer volume of the shout. and even as she dipped her ears to muffle the echo he shouted even louder, "**ZATH-RAAAAAS!!!!!**" "owie." A bent-looking man, with strange sideburns framing a misshapen-looking face, shambled over to them. "Zathras is coming!" he called. "What can Zathras do to help? Zathras is always glad to help." Pausing, the strange man looked up thoughtfully and said, "Wait. This is not strictly true. Sometimes Zathras is very miserable to help. Other times Zathras is indifferent. But mostly, Zathras accepts his fate. Zathras must help, therefore-" "Can it," Red barked. "Get me pencil, paper, something for Mayl to eat, something for Mayl to wear, and then help me transfer Washuu to the examination table." Zathras nodded. "Please to follow Zathras, young miss," he rasped. "You are in good hands with Zathras." Mayl nodded, but paused a moment to give Kris's arm a reassuring squeeze. She wanted to tell him things would work out, but the words refused to come out; probably because she wasn't sure she believed them herself. Instead, she nodded, and then followed Zathras in silence. Mayl returned wearing a red and green wrap and a confused expression. The reason for the confusion, or for a great part of it, shambled along with a tray piled high with sandwiches, maintaining a steady monologue. "Zathras is too old, far too old to be looking for work. But Zathras' retirement plan went -phfft- with Atlantis, so Zathras must work to eat. It is a hard life, but Zathras does not complain." Mayl almost choked at that last; Zathras' speech seemed to be nothing but complaints. The two walked slowly to the examination area, where Red stood staring over Washuu's body. In the time Mayl had spent with Mr. Sunshine, Kris had found an IV stand and a bottle of some clear liquid and had begun drip-feeding Washuu. His uniform tunic and lab coat lay draped over one of the nearby chairs, leaving him in his duty-uniform shirt and slacks. He scribbled now and again on a small scratchpad, now slowly and thoughtfully, now crossing out something angrily. He paid no attention to the newcomers, save to reach out with his writing hand and take the top sandwich from Zathras' tray. Mayl nodded absently at the latest missive from her guide, almost grateful for the distraction provided by the Admiral's contagious intensity. She started to say something to him, but immediately swallowed it; the answer to her asinine question was plain in sight. Washuu wasn't doing okay, and neither was he. Carefully taking the next sandwich from Zathras' plate and letting the latest turn of his diatribe go unnoticed, she craned her neck to try to make sense of the notepad, but she was too far back to read the scattered and panicked handwriting. Sighing, she shrank back and contented herself with just watching for the time being, hardly noticing as she put the sandwich repeatedly to her mouth, or even when her hand reached over to pick up another one. Five sandwiches later, she realized that her presence was accomplishing nothing. Clearing her throat, she offered a small "Excuse me..." Kris looked up from his scribbling and grunted, "What's up?" "I, um," Mayl stammered, "I'd better get back to the ship. I just remembered that we left Subtracto all alone to deal with the docking fees, and I need to get out there while there's still enough salvage to pay for the hyperdrive repairs we need." Kris nodded at this, then reached into his hip pocket and withdrew a checkbook. He began making out a check and stopped when he noticed he was doing it in pencil. Grumbling to himself, he withdrew his wallet and took out an credit card. "Here," he muttered, handing it to Mayl. "Um, that's really not, um, necessary, Admiral," Mayl protested weakly. "I mean, I just, um..." "There ain't no fuckin' way your ship is fit for that feeding frenzy they call a salvage operation," Red growled. "TAKE it." Mayl paused, then accepted the card. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I'll ... I'll see to it you're paid back for everything we use." Kris grunted and turned his attention back to Washuu's body. Slowly at first, then with increasing confidence, he wrote out a list. "Zathras," he said, "I want you to find these for me..." He barely noticed as Mayl showed herself out. Ch. 15/THEN CFA Washington May 24, 2300 Sparky watched as Kris paced back and forth across his office floor, letting his head rotate slightly every now and again to follow Kris' frequent glances at the lab door. Two days had passed since Washuu had taken Lieutenant Azland's body into the lab, two days of investigation, additional security, and everything else important on hold while everyone waited for the medical report.. or autopsy. Kris had been persuaded to put on a new shirt and tunic, but that was it for grooming or rest during the past two days. He'd crammed sandwiches down his throat while he studied May's service record and background end to end, called up every officer who'd served with May for testimony (some at 0200 in the morning), flown down to Saenar to get the report from the spooks at Imperial Salusian Intelligence, even bar-crawled every single dive in the bad parts of the CFA New Orleans to catch any hint of a rumor concerning May Azland or GENOM's prototype testing facilities on Niogi. May had come up clean. Spotlessly clean. Impeccably clean. "How long has it been, Sparky," Kris mumbled, droping into one of his office's guest chairs. "Hm... from the time I came in after Washuu arrived, fifty-one hours, seven minutes, fifty-eight seconds mark," Sparky replied. "Boss, she'll be done when she's done." "I know, I know," Kris nodded. Washuu had thrown Kris out of her Lab after twenty minutes of his hovering over her, pacing around her work area, generally distracting her from her work. Ever since then, no one and nothing had gone in or out of the little wooden door which had appeared just beside Kris' desk. "Maybe you'd like me to go in and see if Washuu's busy, boss?" Sparky trundled over towards the doorway, his twin photoreceptors aimed directly at Kris. "No, no," Kris shook his head, folded his hands and slumped down into his chair. "You know what really, really drives me crazy about all this. The not knowing. I've learned everything there is to know that's on paper, in witness, or even in rumor about May Azland. There is simply no reason I can think of, barring a mole personality, for her to attack -anyone,- much less me. But she must have had SOME reason..." Sparky thought it over for a long moment. "Maybe she wanted the reward on your head?" Kris shook his head. "Sparky, according to her record, May has neither training nor programming for anything more than the most basic CFMF self-defense course. But she pulled a near-perfect blindside move on me in there." Sparky considered this, then added, "Then how come she didn't kill you, boss?" Kris shrugged. "My guess is, she seriously underestimated my ability. I went so far as to have Asrial pull the file ISI has on me- I'm a Knight Fucking Defender and they won't let me see my own file- and according to the information they have, I should probably be dead." Kris smiled just a little, grimly. "I've grown quite a bit in ninety-eight years." "If you say so, boss," Sparky said, wishing he could shrug. "Anyway, given that ISI has more information on me than any other security bureau in existence- including CFMF Intel, by the way- I got lucky. May seriously underestimated me and my ability to recover... and I'm pretty sure she had no idea I could do this," he added, calling a red ball of light into existence over his chest and letting it flit around the room a couple of times before dissipating it in a flash. Silence fell with a thud. Time slipped slowly, painfully by, interrupted now and then by the occasional messenger or curious officer. A few grumbled words from the Redneck sent them away, confused and whispering of an angry admiral plotting revenge. The clatter of the crab-shaped chime over Washuu's Lab Door roused Kris from his apparent fugue. Sparky turned his head to see Washuu, looking worn and frustrated, stepped into the office. "Kris?" the redheaded mad scientist asked softly. "I've done all I can for her. Could you step in here, please?" Kris stood up, walked slowly to the Lab Door. Sparky trundled along behind, his sensors going haywire for a split second in the darkness between the door and the brightly lit expanses of the Lab. Off to one side, in a chair surrounded by dozens of scanners and readout panels, sat May Azland, naked save for a dropcloth, her arms replaced, her eyes still as dark as they had been when she said, "Emergency protection mode." "What happened to her, Washuu?" Kris asked, looking into those blank, dim, pupils, hoping for some spark, some hint of life. "She was a mole," Washuu said. "Some great intellect at GENOM-" she spat out the name with a bitter smile, "decided to use their most advanced AI engine for a -cosmetic personality- while patching a primitive hunter-killer override over it. The two programs were mutually antagonistic; the more often she switched between the two, the more damage was done, until finally... her neural net went into a gradual crash." "You mean she's...." Kris didn't want to say it. "I don't know," Washuu shrugged. "Programming AI's isn't one of my specialties. It's hardly as simple as designing new life forms. I've done the best I can though... I managed to save most of her memories and a good deal of her basic knowledge database... I wasn't able to remove the hunter-killer program, not without risking a total neural failure, but I've managed to remove her hardwired orders and make the two programs compatible... what's left of them...." "What aren't you telling me, Washuu?" Kris' voice came soft, deep, throaty with anxiety... and guilt. "... there was a great deal lost, Kris," Washuu said. "I couldn't reconstruct most of her personality. I saved what I could...." Her voice trailed off as she came as close as Kris had ever heard her come to admitting helplessness. Kris looked the Buma- such a young face, a young body, too young to die, Kris thought. "Can you reactivate her?" he asked. "I should be able to," Washuu nodded. "I don't know what she'll be when she comes to, though..." She waved a hand over empty air, bent over the terminal that appeared before her. "Do you see the monitor with the line marked in red crayon across the screen?" she asked. Kris looked up, saw the screen above May's head and to his right. The line ran slightly higher than midway up, horizontally, across the display. "I see it." "That's the Spengler readout," Washuu said. "At her last checkup, Lieutenant Azland registered .84 Spenglers. That one readout will tell us how well I did my work..." "What's a Spengler?" Sparky asked. Washuu didn't bother to look at the droid. "Spenglers are units of measurement of soulforce, named after the Earth scientist who proved that force's existence in the 2020s," she lectured. "The unit is based on the spiritual energy generated by an average adult Terran. You register at .67 Spenglers, and Kris varies between 1.18 and 1.32 Spenglers depending on conditions." "What about you?" Sparky asked. "What about me?" Washuu tapped a few more keys on her terminal, paying no more attention to the astromech. Footsteps echoed from across the vast foyer of the Lab. Kris looked up to see Gina, dressed somewhat more conservatively than usual, in a sweatshirt and jeans, holding a large pistol in one hand. "I found my EMP gun, Washuu," she said, trotting across the surreal landscape as she saw Kris standing over May's body. "Oh, hello, Redneck! Are you here to watch?" "Gina," Washuu said, looking solemnly at her apprentice, "please stand where you are and be quiet. Kris, please move aside so Gina has a clear shot in case something happens..." Kris nodded, stepping a few paces away from the displays, keeping his eyes locked on the Spengler display. Sparky watched, lights flashing on his chassis with anxious speed, as Washuu typed in a quick series of commands and turned to watch the displays flicker to life. Sparky's circuits surged with excitement as the Spengler meter leaped to life, then grew chill as the leap became a grudging, slow creep up the monitor. On the chair, the dim purple eyes lit up slightly, just slightly, blinked a few times as they came into focus. One hand rose up to pull the dropcloth up over her breasts. The Spengler count crept one last, agonizing bit higher, and froze. The white bar reached only halfway, maybe a bit more, to the red line. May's mouth opened slowly, closed again, then opened; words, slow, cold, toneless, came out. "Testing. One. Two. Five. Eight. Sixteen. Ninety. May Azland, Lieutenant, fully operational." Kris knelt beside the chair and looked directly into May's eyes. "May," he said quietly, "do you remember what happened?" May nodded, once, slowly. "I was taken over by a mole program planted in my subconscious. It blocked my memory of committing several acts of sabotage, leading up to and including a direct attempt on your life." No emotion, no regret, no anger, no joy, nothing. A moment later, she added, "I should be destroyed for my actions. I was malfunctioning. I may malfunction again." Kris shook his head. "No," he whispered. "You couldn't help what you did." "I understand," May said. "Then I must request a transfer." "A transfer?" Kris said. "Don't you want to be my aide?" He tried to smile warmly, to show May that everything was all right again. "My proximity to you could only impair your performance, Admiral," May droned. "Furthermore, it makes no sense to have someone with my training assigned to a noncombatant position. I suggest my abilities would best be utilized in the Freespacer Marines." Kris nodded. "I'll... take it under advisement..." He stood up slowly, reluctantly, looking down sadly, his eyes clouded as he said, "May... I'm so very sorry..." "You have no reason to apologize, Admiral," May said in the cold, mechanical voice that stabbed Kris in the heart with every syllable. "I am in full operational condition." Kris nodded, turned away, whispered, "I'd like to be alone now," and walked as quickly as he could to the Lab Door. Sparky pivoted on his wheels, stopped when he sensed Washuu's hand on his head. "Leave him alone, Sparky," she said. "He doesn't like to have company when he cries." The next day, in the corridor just outside the boardroom for RebelTech Industries, Ltd., Kris met a face he'd wanted to avoid, forever if possible. Nalga Varosajic Tiure, like most of his species, was a giant bloated slug with tiny arms, huge eyes, and a slit of a mouth nearly as wide as his entire body. Nalga understood English, and Kris understood Huttese, like most inhabitants of the Corellian and Rigel Sectors or Hutt Space, but Hutt custom was never to allow inferior races (like humans) to speak directly to a Hutt, so Nalga had an Industrial Automaton V-series diplomat droid. Despite his metal chassis, V1N-E seemed to exude more slime than his master. The robot's humanoid form slumped into an arrogant, street-wise pose, his metal-carved friendly smile bowed to appear as a superior smirk. Even the accent added to the fake 'wiseguy' image: "Da great an' powerful Nalga da Hutt is pleased ta make yer acquaintance, an' expresses 'is sorrow atcher recent tragetiy." Kris glared at Nalga, not sparing more than the briefest glance for the droid. "Tell your master that if I had proof, I mean the least hint of proof, that he was in any way involved with May Azland, he would be dead right this very minute." The Hutt barely moved as he listened to Kris' threat, then nodded once, the bulk of his upper body moving back and forth once, solemnly. In a deep, belching rumble, he replied in a long string of Huttese, including some words Kris wasn't quite sure of; he hadn't used the language in over a century, and some slang might have changed, he reasoned. "Da great an' powerful Nalga da Hutt wishes yas ta understan' dat he had nuttin' ta do wit' dat particular t're't," V1N-E translated. "'E's willin' ta admit dat he's made some minor efforts ta inconvenience yas, but dat was strictly business. Dis... " The droid looked at the Hutt and spat out a quick string of Huttese: Nalga shook his head, then faced Kris directly. he said. Kris nodded. Nalga said. he added with an especially deep, long grunt to punctuate the point. "Is that all you have to say?" Kris snapped. Nalga said. "How generous of you," Kris said sarcastically. "Now you listen to me. I took it for granted that GENOM was bad news. When I returned and read about all the changes recently, I had even more cause to treat GENOM as the enemy. "But now GENOM has created, and then destroyed, a person, a living, thinking being, for the sole purpose of preventing me from interfering with their plans. Any company that cares so little for its own, much less for its enemies, is my enemy. Personal. Forever. To the death. Do you understand me?" Nalga shook his blubbery head slowly. "Da great an' powerful Nalga da Hutt has spoken," V1N-E said, opening the boardroom doors so Nalga could slither in. Behind them, Kris stood and glared, struggling to bring his emotions under control. Just business, is it? This isn't business, slimeball. This is the beginning of a long, long war... Ch. 15/NOW A room in Washuu's lab August 25, 2388 The universe seemed a little cooler, and a lot softer, than she remembered last. Smelled cleaner, too. She was in a bed of some sort... didn't feel like her bunk, it was too soft. And the surrounding space felt too large to be the Centurion's crew quarters. Time for visual input. No, Rianna confirmed as her eyes opened and took in the large room around her. This was definitely not the Centurion. In fact it looked like one of the rooms from the Lab. The carefully cleaned white cabinets, the bright light filtering in from the overhead skylight, the smell of carefully filtered and ionized air- any one of these was totally alien to the Mayl- contaminated world Ri had spent the last several weeks in, but as a whole the room seemed to scream MAD SCIENTIST AT WORK. Either that, Rianna smirked, or HELP, I'M BEING HELD CAPTIVE IN A SHOPPING MALL. Rianna lay still in the soft bed, trying to piece together what had happened since the trance. She remembered finding Red's mind, and the series of images they had exchanged. She'd been flattered by the image she's received of herself from Red; the warrior princess, and also a simple privateer, each image part of the other. And then, when she'd told him to come to Wilderness... Rianna repressed a shiver at the glimpse of guilt, self-pity and despair which had leaked through the link in response. Whatever had happened, Red felt personally responsible. The final image she had received had been even more chaotic... hope, light, determination... Redemption. *I come.* Rianna struggled to push memory forward beyond that point. When the link collapsed, the strain had hit hard; she remembered trying to tell Mayl that Red was on his way, but she had no way of knowing if Mayl had heard; she didn't remember sensing Mayl at all, much less any response from her. Things got decidedly surreal at that point, images blurring through her mind in a stream of subconscious thought. A few had been dreams, without a doubt; a couple of them had been about to become X-rated when the scene had subtly shifted to something else. So I _did_ pass out, she thought, and someone brought me here. She sat up slowly, working a knot out of the muscles in her neck. What had happened? The background hum of some heavy machinery somewhere caught Rianna's attention, and something inside her seemed to be attracted to the sound. Reaching out to the Force, she allowed her instincts to guide her, and her senses told her an answer was through the door from which the sound was coming. Getting to her feet, and allowing herself one good stretch, popping several vertebrae back into alignment, she walked through. The room outside looked more like a park than a building: overhead, a series of tanks and conduits stretched from beyond the room on all sides, obscuring the distant ceiling overhead. Here and there, waterfalls from the overhead tanks burbled into small canals in the ground, watering the small trees arranged in a parklike fashion around several walkways. Near the center of the immense space, a small wooden door stood by itself, and beside it a small overstuffed cushion floated in midair. The air thrummed with the background noise of enormous engines running in the distance. It was the Lab, all right. Again, Rianna stretched out into the Force, searching for some clue as to what had happened. Her senses were drawn to the sound of crackling static electricity, not far away... and to the noticeable disturbance in the Force she felt there. Trusting to her instincts, she began walking towards the disturbance, trusting more to her Sith training than to any outward sense. Rianna found herself facing Washuu's favorite examination bed, in a rear corner of the immense front room surrounded by miscellaneous diagnostic equipment, scanners, and supply lockers and cabinets. Today, however, the arrangement was a little different; this time the scientist lay on the bed- or what there was of her. The morbid form, naked except for a sheet pulled up to the waist, did not look much better- any better- than when Rianna had found her, still gray and shriveled up like a frostbitten leaf. An intravenous needle and feeder tube extended from Washuu's left arm, leading up to a half-full bottle of clear fluid hanging from a metal stand. For one sick moment Rianna was reminded of a cadaver, sitting on a table awaiting autopsy; she threw that thought away almost as soon as she'd thought it. Rianna wondered again how long she'd been unconscious. The man sitting beside the bed, occasionally flinching as a tendril of electricity flickered from the static electricity field to touch him, paid no mind to Rianna. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands were shaking slightly, and every now and again the dull red glow surrounding him flared into either a large red or brilliant white aura, then died back down. A gray uniform tunic lay draped over the back of his chair, his undershirt matted with sweat and wrinkled from long wear. In short, Kris was a wreck. As Rianna took a step closer, her eyes fell on a slightly mangled notepad near the table. Picking it up, she arched an eyebrow at the panicked scrawling she saw: ----------------------------------------------------- Regeneration tank useless shock potential high Jyurai NO! Shock GUARANTEED TOO RISKY!! Surgery and do what? restore energy encourage regeneration Van de Graaff field? Divine intervention ...yarite, HOW?? nutrient solution 1% saline 3%dextrose 0.5% protein mix self-warming blanket _ retain heat energy_ static field unit-- /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ The notes stopped at that point because the paper below had been ripped off. Rianna couldn't help noticing how the writing style meshed almost perfectly with the rollercoaster of emotions she was picking up from Redneck. As she continued to watch, Kris began muttering in a low, raspy voice, sentence fragments with no apparent meaning...: "...didn't mean to ... such an idiot... you'll be alright, I'll see to it... please, please..." Good goddess, Rianna thought. How long has he been at this? One thing was for sure: she needed to get his attention. "Red?" Slowly, Kris looked upwards, saw the dark-haired woman standing beside him, and croaked, "Hello, Ri'. Sleep well?" A weak smile twisted his face, never touching his eyes. "How long?" she asked without preamble. Kris sat back in the chair, running his hand through his hair, and sighed. "Um... I think today is Thursday... I got to Wilderness about a half-hour after... well, Washuu's been in treatment for about thirty-six hours. No response yet." Sighing again, he slumped forward and said, "Not a fucking thing." Rianna looked over at Washuu's small, fragile form. No improvement in 36 hours... damn. "So... what all have you done for her?" Kris laughed two nervous, near-hysterical barks, then slumped even further over and said, "Not much. I'm paramedic trained- I'm not a doctor. I can't do anything radical without the risk of shocking her into total collapse. I've been giving her a steady IV drip of nutrients, and I've set up this static field--" He waved a hand through the air over Washuu's bed, sending mild sparks along his arm. "...in the hopes she'll absorb some of it. Either she'll accept the new energy sources and regenerate... or it's too late..." Kris sobbed loudly, sniffed, and choked out, "She's got to regenerate on her own." Rianna took all this in. She found herself grappling with a brief wave of helplessness, caused in part by her own knowledge that all her Force skills were useless here, but also because of what she was sensing from Kris, who was most decidedly _not_ Force-blind. He was running an emotional sine wave between hopeful and maniacally grief-stricken, so fast Rianna felt she would need some kind of oscilloscope to see it clearly. Perhaps there was something she could do, after all. "So..." she began, weighing her words very carefully. "There's nothing else that can be done, correct?" "Well..." Kris sighed, "Little Joe's keeping the fleet running. Gina's outside the lab door, screening visitors. Zathras is around somewhere, he brings me coffee and a sandwich every so often--" (Rianna wondered to herself, Red _hates_ coffee.) "... but someone has to be here to watch... so here I am." He chuckled, this time wryly. "Seems that's all I'm good for these days." Rianna arched an eyebrow. "Red... how long has it been since you slept last?" Kris leaned back again and stared at the ceiling, silently mouthing words; Rianna felt a wave of confusion from him as he struggled to concentrate. Finally, he said, "Saturday night. When I got drunk with Rayna... um, General Tangril." "*Saturday*?" Rianna replied, shocked. "We found Washuu on Tuesday, and today's Thursday... and you are still *sitting here*, Red?" More and more she didn't like the disturbance she felt. "Before..." Kris gasped, smothering a wave of mixed hope and despair, and continued, "Before you found Washuu, I couldn't sleep from the memories, the guilt... and now..." He looked up at her, hitting her with every ounce of love, pain, despair, guilt, and hope in his soul, "I _have_ to be here for her. I HAVE to." Looking back to Washuu, he murmured, "I never knew just how much a part of me she was. She's my balance, Ri, my other half..." Again his mouth moved voicelessly, and a complex wave of emotions flickered past too quickly for Rianna to sift. "I have to be here," he said again, and fell silent. "Red..." Rianna sighed quietly. "Right now, where you have to be -- no, where you _need_ to be -- is in bed. You just told me you've done everything you can for her. And I understand how much you want to be here. But right now, in your condition? I don't care if Washuu _is_ Force-blind. Your emotional and mental state is fluctuating so badly that you just might be doing more harm than good by staying here now. You might do something wrong. Did you think of that?" For a long moment, Kris sat quiet; apparently, he hadn't thought about it, but he was thinking about it now. Then, perceptibly, his resolve strengthened. The red aura which had flickered and flared around him ceased, and in a calm and very carefully controlled voice, he answered, "No. No, I don't think it is harming her. If she is getting anything from me, it's my love for her, my worry for her, and the knowledge that I am _HERE_ waiting for her..." The control flickered, then firmed, and he finished, "I have to be here, Rianna. No matter what." "Kristan, I admire your dedication," Rianna answered, her voice becoming equally calm. "And I don't dispute the power of your love for her. But I still believe you would do her a greater service by getting some sleep now. There's nothing more to be done. And no one else will come in here--" At the mention of someone invading the lab, Kris' aura returned, red and flaming, for a brief moment; then it vanished, and in a low and unusually dark voice, Kris growled, "DAMN STRAIGHT nobody's comin' in here." Rianna almost took a step back. She did not like what she had just felt, and her foresight warned of several possible troubles if something wasn't done and soon. "All right, Red," Rianna said, the Force welling up in her throat. She didn't want to do this to him -- she knew how he hated it -- but there were no options left to her. "That will be quite enough. >>You need to sleep now.<<" At the first hint of the Voice, Kris sat up straight, tensing, and suddenly, his emotions -vanished- from Rianna's perception. For a long second, he stared directly into Rianna's eyes, calm and collected; Jedi battle calm. Then, the moment passed, Kris' control flickered, and he yawned, loudly and widely. "*You need to sleep NOW*," Rianna repeated, taking full advantage of the opening, her eyes narrowing to slits. Kris struggled to suppress another yawn, then released it, and then, he murmured: "I... need... to stay... to sleep..." Then, slowly but fluidly, he leaned forward in the chair, electricity dancing around him as he fell, and he lay his head and shoulders onto the bed beside Washuu's body. After a moment, his arms curled up beneath his head; his breathing deepened, and Rianna felt the last remnant of his will fade into a sound, dreamless sleep. Rianna let out a long sigh and relaxed. With that horrendous emotional rollercoaster finally shut down, the tension in the room faded. Rianna took a few steps closer, and silently regarded the still form of Washuu for a few long moments. "Washuu," she spoke quietly at length. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I think he's finally made his choice." Then she turned to the sleeping Redneck and regarded him in much the same way, thinking about what she had felt from him, about the way the power had resonated... Sooner or later, Kristan, Rianna thought. You are going to know the power of the Dark Side. And I hope to the heavens you will be prepared when that happens. That said, she scanned her surroundings for a chair, so that she could begin her own vigil over Washuu. Yawning slightly, she thought to herself, I hope I don't keel over myself before this is over...