(previously on 'Road Movie to Naboo'... ) In his meditation chamber aboard the Conqueror, Darth Vader sat motionless. An observer, had any dared to enter the chamber, would have thought him asleep, at least until he took action against them for intruding. Vader was quite awake; he rarely slept and never when something as interesting as this was going on. His awareness was focused well beyond his ravaged physical shell and its metallic surroundings, on the two bright sparks of life down on the planet below. To one as sensitive as Vader, the repercussions of Leonard and Achika's duel still resounded in the Force. They told him much - not who the combatants were, but where they had come from, in a sense. One of them, the Jedi he had felt aboard the small ship they'd shot down, confirmed Vader's assessment of him as a fully-trained, traditional Jedi Knight. The other had a familiar feeling, but touched with a flavor of the exotic - trained, perhaps, in a foreign discipline that had once been the Jedi way in ages past. And, unless Vader missed his guess, a second Jedi had been present, not taking part, but watching and sensing the duel. Vader savored all these revelations, and though doing so was painful, he smiled under his mask. All was proceeding well. It was almost time for him to take action. He felt the surge of anticipation rush through his body, and welcomed it. After all those years entombed, he had been idle far too long. Eyrie Productions, Unlimited presents: UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT -=WARRIORS OF THE OUTER RIM=- Road Movie to Naboo Part 3: Relics Benjamin D. Hutchins Kris Overstreet with the invaluable assistance of the Usual Suspects and thanks to all the sources (c) 2002 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited Two days passed in relative tranquility, as the Sun Queen sped ever onward. The comfortable surroundings, good food, and camaraderie (now that the tension between the Jedi and the Jyuraian seemed to be resolved) made the ship's company begin to feel almost as if their outing was a holiday of a sort. They could never forget that the world they were on was under siege - not that they wanted to - but they nevertheless felt strangely at ease. For Leonard, this tranquility was broken up only by a nightmare on the third night at sea, the details of which, when he awoke in a tangle, he could not remember. He tried for several minutes, but it was no use - whatever it had been, the dream hadn't imprinted itself on his memory. He rearranged his covers and went back to sleep. He wasn't sure how long that block of sleep lasted, for the next thing he knew, he was awake again. He wasn't sure why. It hadn't been a dream this time, he was fairly sure, but something outside - perhaps a sound. He glanced at the porthole: it was still dark outside. Puzzled, he got out of bed and pulled on trousers and boots. As he did so, it happened again, and it -had- been a sound - someone yelling for help. A confusion of noise erupted from somewhere aft - shouts, clattering boots. Fully awake in an instant, Len piled out into the corridor, buckling his equipment belt around his waist, and nearly collided with Emmy, who was emerging from her own cabin turned out for action. Achika was right behind them as they reached the center companionway to see the Queen's Protectors crowded into the corridor at the door to the royal suite. "What's going on?" asked Emmy. "Intruder," Captain Panaka replied tersely, pushing his way past his men. He slotted his passkey into the electronic lock, the door hissed open, and the Protectors charged through, weapons at the ready, shouting challenges. A calm, smooth baritone voice cut through through the clamor of their voices and the whir and hum of their charging weapons, saying soothingly, "Easy, fellas. I'm not armed and have no aggressive intentions. I just came in the wrong window, that's all." Len and Achika glanced at each other, eyebrows raising in twin gestures of surprise, as Emmy gave them both a quizzical look. Then all three of them ran down the stairs (with Captain Olie, blaster in hand, hot on their heels, having just arrived from above) and into the sitting room of the royal suite. As they entered, someone found a light switch, and the beams of the Protectors' flashlights were replaced by a bright white glow from the ceiling. The sitting room was compact and well-appointed like everything else aboard the Sun Queen, with bookshelves, a big window overlooking the yacht's fantail, a lot of dark wood paneling and a large, comfy-looking sofa. Padme, one of the royal handmaidens, was sitting at one end of it with the tail of a blanket drawn up under her chin. Her free hand held her little chrome blaster, which was leveled along with the weapons of everyone else in the place at a man standing in the middle of the rug between the couch and the window. He was a tall and rugged-looking fellow who seemed about Leonard's age, with a rough-hewn, craggily handsome and rather roguish face, a short black beard, and thick, jaggedly unruly black hair with a prominent silver shock in front. It seemed to some of the observers that he resembled the Jedi in a strange way, despite the fact that Len was wiry and calm-faced while the other was broad-shouldered and wore, despite his predicament, a look of faint good humor. The two men had, Padme realized as she looked the stranger over, the same pale blue eyes. His face had tattoo-like blue markings on it, a solid triangle on the point of each cheekbone and a center-dotted circle on his forehead. His dress was nothing to write home about; he looked like a technician or engineer of some kind, dressed in a medium-blue, many-pocketed coverall spotted with the occasional grease stain with a pair of sturdy black boots. At his waist he wore a sturdy leather tool belt fitted with various hand tools, several small pouches and a couple of devices that appeared to be electrotech multitools, as well as one small silver box whose function was not immediately apparent. All in all, it wasn't the sort of kit one expected an intruder, in the dead of night, in the middle of the ocean, to be wearing. Apart from the tools, he was adorned with an engraved silver cuff on his left ear and a ring on his wedding finger, the latter winking in the overhead light as he held up his open hands. Actually, now that Padme looked more closely, there were -two- intruders: On the man's right shoulder was perched what appeared to be a white cat with black forepaws and gold patches on head and chest. Leonard blinked, his face taking on a look of complete surprise, then one of complete delight. He looked different - and well he should, it had been six years since they'd seen each other last - but he was unmistakable all the same: "CORWIN!" the Jedi cried, rounding the couch and (somewhat to the surprise of the Queen's Protectors) seizing the interloper in a bear hug. The door to starboard, which Emmy guessed led into the Queen's bedchamber, opened partway and Rabe, the other handmaiden along for this voyage, put her head out. "Padme," she said, "Her Majesty wishes to know what's going on out here." "(She certainly does,)" Padme muttered under her breath; then she raised her voice to a more public tone and said, "One moment, Rabe - I think we'll find out presently." Len released the intruder and, smiling, turned to Panaka and showed him a palm. "You can relax, Major. This man's a friend." Panaka's patience was at a low ebb after the unnerving events of the past week. He scowled at the Jedi and failed to lower his weapon. "How did your 'friend' -get- here? We're a thousand miles at sea, and this ship is -supposed- to be transporter-shielded," he added with a sharp glance at Captain Olie, who shrugged. "He has, er, many talents," Len replied. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you the details, but I can speak for his character - he's my brother." "I can vouch for him, too," Achika chimed in. "He's no danger, he can help us." Rabe, still standing with her head out the door, gave Padme a questioning look. The handmaiden on the couch replied with a shrug and put her blaster down in her lap, still holding the blanket up to her neck with the other hand. Rabe turned and spoke to someone behind her - doubtless the Queen - then turned back and said, "If the Jedi and Princess Achika will vouch for him, it's the Queen's wish that he be welcomed." Len wondered why the relaying, then decided it was probably beneath the Queen's dignity to shout orders to her Protectors through a door. "As Her Majesty wishes," Panaka replied. Resignedly, he holstered his sidearm and dismissed the Protectors back to their bunks. Emmy, who empathized with the guardsman's frustration at the day he was having, had to hand it to Panaka. Having been commanded to welcome the intruder, he was the soul of graciousness as he drew himself to attention and declared, "You are aboard Her Majesty's yacht, the Sun Queen. On behalf of Queen Amidala of the Naboo, welcome aboard." "Thank you," said the man Len had called his brother, nodding. "Sorry about the fuss." He turned a bright, very slightly confidential smile on Padme and added, "It was too dark to see, and anyway I didn't think anybody would be sleeping in the living room... " Padme smiled back and said, "I've been told it's a bad habit, but I like the view out this window. No harm done. But if you all wouldn't mind going upstairs," she added with a glance around, "so I can get dressed and help Her Majesty get ready to receive our guest formally... " Captain Panaka cleared his throat and said, "Er - of course. This way, please." Shortly, the lot of them were installed in the Queen's audience chamber: Captain Panaka, Captain Olie, Len, Emmy, Achika and the newcomer. There they waited for perhaps ten minutes, until the Queen could make her entrance, having taken the time to have her royal makeup applied. There had been little time for her handmaidens to apply one of her characteristic elaborate coiffures, so her hair was concealed in a traveling veil, and her costume was a remarkably simple blue and black embroidered gown. Padme and Rabe were at her elbows, dressed in their traveling costumes. The Queen made her stately way to the tall chair at the head of the room and sat down with her handmaidens at either side. She evinced little surprise, but gave the newcomer a cool, appraising look. "I am Queen Amidala of the Naboo," said the Queen. "Welcome aboard my yacht, the Sun Queen." The newcomer sank to one knee and touched his forehead to his upraised knee - quite courtly, really, for a man in a greasy coverall. "My name is Corwin Ravenhair, of Avalon, Asgard and Cephiro, and I am at Your Majesty's service." "And I'm Nall!" added the cat in a most surprising mellow tenor, making everybody blink and draw back a little. "Please forgive our unexpected arrival," Corwin went on as he straightened. "It was a bit of a rush job, coming here." "How did you come to be here?" asked the Queen as Corwin got back to his feet. "That's... ah... a bit of a complicated question to answer, Your Majesty," said Corwin with a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of his head. "You can take it from me, though, that nobody's going to be using it to follow me. Your antitransport shield is fully operational, I checked it while we were waiting." "You're a Lensman!" Padme blurted, having just caught the telepathic glint of Corwin's wristwatch. Corwin nodded, smiling. "Our father is the First Lensman," he told her, gesturing to Len. "Corwin," Len said, "what are you doing here?" "I came to help out my brother, of course," Corwin replied cheerily. He looked past Len to Achika, then added, "Since you're both here and both alive, I'm guessing you've, er, discussed your issues?" "Everything's fine, Corwin," Achika said, her smile faintly indulgent. "You are the Jedi's brother?" the Queen inquired. Corwin confirmed this. Technically, he was Leonard's half-brother, as their mothers were not the same woman, but they rarely acknowledged the distinction. "I don't want to seem rude, but could somebody mind explaining to me where I am and what I've just dropped into the middle of?" Corwin wondered. "I got a flash that Len was in a tight spot and could use my help, grabbed my gear and headed for the nearest window." Nall glanced at the darkness beyond the porthole and said wryly, "What time it is would be a good start... " Half an hour later, with very brief explanations made and sandwiches rustled up for a grateful Corwin and Nall by Emmy, the Queen retired once more to her suite, leaving Padme, at the handmaiden's request, to attend to the guests. Panaka and Olie retired as well, and the five who remained awake adjourned to the more comfortable chairs of the wardroom. "'Course we knew that's what you were doing, but still - my baby brother a Jedi Knight," Corwin said with cheerful bemusement. "What a beautiful universe." He regarded his sandwich, which was constituted mostly of cold slices of leftover belgad and the last of the doj-r'shol'yk between slabs of white bread, and shook his head in wonder. "This is incredible. What'd you say your name was?" he asked, looking at Emmy. Rather than take one of the room's four chairs, the Hyelian Jedi had seated herself kneeling next to the chair opposite Corwin's, where Len was sitting. "M'yl'ya Kyn'o'bi," she repeated. "I've found that 'Emmy' is easier for humans, if you like." "Well, you make a hell of a sandwich, Emmy." "Thank you." "This is quite a girl, Len," said Nall to Leonard, looking up from his own sandwich to gesture with his snout to its maker. "She's gorgeous, smart, and she can make an incredible sandwich. What more do you need? If Achika won't have you back, I say you should marry her." The women in the room reddened to various degrees, even Achika, who should have been as used to Nall as Len was. It was sometimes impossible to tell when Nall was just fishing for reactions and when he was serious - the little wiseass liked to needle people sometimes just to see which way they would jump. "Er... thank you," Emmy mumbled. "Your opinion," Len observed dryly, "is noted. How are things in the Golden City, Corwin?" "Lovely as usual," Corwin replied. "It -is- Paradise, after all. Mom sends her regards and they all want you to visit. Aunt Urd claims to be very interested in how much you've grown up since you left, but I think she mainly said that to get a tsk out of Aunt Belldandy." Len chuckled. "Good to know some things haven't changed. How about the gang back home?" "Good Lord, give me a chance... six years, I wouldn't know where to begin. I take it, then, that you haven't been back inside yet, to New Avalon and wherever?" "Not yet," Len replied. "We got a little sidetracked here on our way in. I'm looking forward to it, once we help deal with the Federation and can get out again. I haven't even heard from Mom, Dad or anybody else since I left - you're the only one who was ever able to contact me." Corwin's face paled a little, and his head snapped around to look at Achika sitting beside him. "You didn't tell him?!" Nall burst out. Achika returned his horrified stare with one of her own. "I - I didn't realize he didn't know," she said. "It never occurred to me - " "Tell me what?" Len asked. Corwin gaped at Achika for another moment, then swallowed and turned back to his brother. "Uh... oh, hell... Len, I don't know how to tell you this. Your mother... Kei's missing. We don't even know if she's alive." Len stared. "How? When?" he finally asked. "Not long after you left, reports started coming in from the spinward end of the Rim Territories of strange disturbances - attacks on outposts, abductions, agrocolonies falling out of contact, unidentified spacecraft sightings, that kind of thing. The 3WA put together a team to check out a planet way the hell out at the edge of charted space where rumor had it those disturbances might be centered. They asked for an IPO officer to tag along for coordination, and Kei volunteered for old times' sake. They... they never came back. Whatever they found there... they never came back." Corwin looked at his boots. "I'm sorry." "I'm sorry, too," said Achika miserably. "I should have realized that you wouldn't know it had happened... " Len sat regarding the two of them several seconds, his face settling slowly from shocked to thoughtful. Beside him, Emmy reached up and gently touched his arm, just letting him know she was there. Behind the two Jedi, Padme hovered with a troubled look, as if uncertain whether she should leave. She must have made a soft noise, for Len turned in his seat to look up at her, and to her surprise, the look on his face was one of concern for -her-! Then he smiled gently, silently thanking her for her concern, sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, plunging deep into the reserves of quietude within him and expanding his perceptions. He imagined himself as the center of an ever-expanding pattern of waves, like ripples on the sea of the Force, and stretched out his mind, searching the Force for others of his blood. Corwin, shining with the intermingled whiteness of of his Asgardian genes and the deep emerald glow of the Pillar of Cephiro, shone most brightly where the waves lapped over him, so nearby as to be practically in the center himself. Further out, Len saw the reflected gleams of his father, brother and sisters, scattered around the Inner Galaxy. There was nothing else. This was probably futile. Kei Morgan, like almost everyone at the highest echelon of the Experts of Justice, was a Lensman; if the others, even her own husband, couldn't raise her with those instruments' fantastic powers of communication, then what hope had he, without one? No. He mustn't think that way; if he had such doubt, then his effort -was- futile. He didn't -need- a Lens. He had the Force. He gathered his strength and pushed out further, sending the ripples of his consciousness so far afield that he felt a sort of cosmic vertigo on contemplating the scale of the area he was scanning. He had encompassed the whole galaxy by now, and still he pushed the waves outward, refusing to believe that this was all there was for him to find. Then, just as he was about to give up and let the pattern collapse, he saw it - a faint red pinpoint, impossibly far away. He abandoned the rest of the search and threw all his will at improving his view of that one light. The distance was astonishing; if this was who he was seeking, she must be in another galaxy! He strained to see more clearly, and succeeded in bridging the incredible gulf that separated them with a tenuous contact. [Leonard?] (Surprise.) [I'm not sure.] (Calm, centered, despite the sudden, powerful impression that she was in absolutely desperate circumstances.) [Very far from everyone I love, I know that much. But they can't break me, and they can't hold me forever.] (Proud defiance, and it swelled his heart to feel it; whoever 'they' were, they had indeed not damped the fire at her heart.) [I'll be back someday.] (Growing faint, the effort required to make contact at such an astounding distance overwhelming him.) [You couldn't reach me.] [Our home needs all its protectors, Len. This enemy is unlike anything we've ever faced. Tell your father. Tell them all.] [I love you, too, son. Tell your father and the others I love them. I'll be back.] Leonard could not sustain the contact any longer. With a wrenching gasp, he slumped in the chair, panting, his eyes opening and staring around for a moment before regaining their focus. "Len? Are you all right?" asked Achika. "I'm fine," he replied, catching his breath. "Just tired. She's alive," he said with a contented smile. "She'll be back." He turned to Padme, who was looking at him with an odd mix of awe, anxiety and weariness, and said, "You don't need to stay up and wait on us any longer, Padme. Why don't you go back to bed?" "If you're sure you don't need anything... " she hedged. "No, no, we're fine," Emmy assured her. "Matter of fact, I think I'll turn in too. Nice to meet you, Corwin." "You too," said Corwin. "Sorry again for tripping over you, Miss Naberrie." With a shy smile, she told him he could call her Padme like everybody else, then excused herself and left the room. "Smoothie," said Nall dismissively. Then he sprang from Corwin's shoulder to Emmy's. "What do you say we go get to know each other a little better? I speak fluent Elvish." She gave him a skeptical sidelong look. "I'm going to bed," she informed him. "That's OK," Nall replied breezily as they left the room, and just before the door closed behind them, he could be heard to continue, "I don't take up much space... " Corwin shook his head. "One of these days," he said with a resigned little smile, "Umi's going to skin him for a hat." Achika got up as well, stifing a most unroyal yawn. "Well, the wings will be stylish," she mused. "Good night, Corwin, Len." "'Night, Achika," said both men, and then she left them alone. Corwin and Leonard talked long into the night, catching up on what had happened to them in the six years since Len had vanished to the Outer Rim. By the time dawn arrived, they were both extremely sleepy, but well pleased by the changes and added maturity they saw in each other. The next afternoon, they were awakened after not quite as much sleep as they'd have liked by the news that the Sun Queen had arrived at the Forbidden Island. Captain Roman Tsonis was not a happy man, and when he was unhappy he tended to share his unhappiness with everyone around him. First he had been deprived of the honor of leading the assault on Theed - although the failure of General Konstantin to secure the Queen had cost him his rank and privileges, beginning with the privilege of breathing. Then he had been assigned to find the Queen, only to stew impatiently as USS Conqueror and her task force of Earth Alliance ships scanned the oceans of Naboo fruitlessly. As a consequence, the atmosphere on the bridge was wound so tight that crewmen left at shift-change swaying on their feet, shaking with nervous exhaustion. Two hours into the day watch, the soft beep from the science officer's station sent everyone on the bridge, including Tsonis, spinning to face the lieutenant at the console. Jumping to his controls, he said, "Sir, sensors pick up an unidentified vehicle - a very large skimmer of some kind - beached on an island near the center of the Great Eastern Ocean." "Which island?" Tsonis asked. "Any life signs present?" "Cartography doesn't list a name, sir," the lieutenant replied. "The native maps just list it as 'Forbidden.' And I read several life signs, perhaps as many as two dozen, moving away from the vessel. The interference from the local vegetation makes it difficult to isolate them." "Forbidden." Tsonis frowned, contemplating. "Get me a visual." The main screen flickered away from a view of the planet below to a closer overhead shot of a group of people - fewer than two dozen, but close enough for government work - walking off a rocky beach and up a cliffside onto an island filled with low tropical vegetation. Here and there an isolated tree rose above man-height, but for the most part the greenery stood between waist and shoulder level. "Sir, I do pick up one near-human life form, possibly Hyelian, among the group," the science officer added. "It matches one of the life signs in that scout ship we forced down to within point-five percent." "Very interesting," Tsonis murmured. "I want that island secured. Contact Colonel Nuatu. Tell him I want three regiments of Marines to hit that island at once. Full armor and air support. Orders are to shoot to kill. Take prisoners only when all resistance has been subdued." As his officers relayed orders and prepared for the assault, Tsonis smiled to himself. So, he thought, the so-called Lord Vader's pets have proven themselves both resourceful and dangerous. It is such a pity that they must be destroyed... after all, not only are they likely protecting the Queen, but they now pose a danger to the fleet and the Federation. And if Vader's actions endanger this fleet, not even the Acting President can save him... "What are we looking for again?" Corwin grumbled, pushing aside a clump of bushes. "Legends say that, before the colonization of Naboo, a great and terrible weapon was left here by the planet's previous inhabitants," Panaka replied. "According to the story, its makers were overwhelmed by a greater power before the weapon could be completed. One of the first settlers witnessed its power firsthand and barely escaped with his life. Ever since then, this island has been forbidden to all settlement and visitors." "Yeah, not that it would get many in the first place," Nall grumbled. "No harbor, no real beach, cliffs surrounding the entire island?" "What are -you- grumbling for?" Corwin said. "You could have just flown to the top by yourself." "And leave you guys behind? You'd be lost without me!" "I think we're lost anyway," Len sighed, looking around the rolling plateau of the island. Miles and miles of featureless green stared back at him, with no sign that any civilization had ever lived there. "Was this weapon stored in a building anywhere? A cave? Anything?" "The legend mentions an ancient stone fortress, weathered by the centuries," Panaka said. "In the center of the island, resting against a ridge." He pointed to a hilltop about a mile head of them. "I think that is the ridge the legend refers to, but I'm not certain." Len looked behind them and judged the distance back to the beach. "It's in the right direction, at least, but it'll take us at least another hour to get there at this rate." Looking over at the elaborately-adorned Queen Amidala, he added, "Do you wish to wait here, Your Majesty? We don't know what we'll find." Amidala stared back impassively and said, "We shall press on together. My people are no doubt suffering under Palpatine's occupation; I will not permit it to continue a moment longer than necessary." Len nodded acceptance. "What about your handmaidens?" "We can take care of ourselves," Padme muttered with a smile. "Lead on, Master Jedi." "As you wish," Len said. He took a few steps towards the head of the group, then stopped and stood for a moment. "I feel something... " Emmy stared at Len for a moment, then looked up as her ears twitched at a sound too faint for the others to hear. "Company," she said. "Transporter beams, I think - lots of them." Nall launched himself from Corwin's shoulders and, with a beat of his wings, rose high over the heads of the group. After a moment's hovering, he dove back to ground level and resumed his customary place, saying, "Federation assault shuttles coming in from the ocean at high speed. They'll be here any minute." "So much for going back to the ship," Padme said. "They're deploying behind us," Emmy continued. "I wonder why they haven't just dropped around us, or beamed us up?" "Ground clutter," Achika replied from the front of the group. "Dense tropical vegetation obscures animal life signs during daylight hours, even short stuff like this. If they wanted to beam us out of this with Federation pattern sensors, they'd have to send somebody to tag us with transponders." Her blade slashed away another stubborn clump of grass as she added, "Which might well be what they're up to... " "More importantly," Corwin said, "they don't know what defenses we have waiting for them. They won't want to beam people into an ambush, especially when they can only beam so many people at a time." "Agreed," Panaka said. "They're doing it by the book: assembling forces and then scouring the island from one end to the other." "Have we any defenses prepared?" Amidala asked. Panaka and Len looked at each other in a mutual why-didn't-you-think-of-this glance before saying, "No." Nall grinned. "Sure you do," he replied. "You guys go on ahead. I'll handle these clowns." Panaka blinked. "-You-?" he inquired incredulously. "Me," Nall replied, hopping from Corwin's shoulder to a reasonably thick branch of a nearby tree. "Go on, get moving." "Need any help?" Corwin asked the cat conversationally. "Are you kidding? They're just grunts," said Nall. "G'wan. I've got your back." "Well, OK," said Corwin, ruffling the cat's head. "Be careful. Holler if you need anything." Then he turned to Panaka, who still stood looking somewhere between baffled and annoyed. "Well, Captain? Shall we?" "Are you serious?" Panaka inquired. "Absolutely. Nall says he can take these guys, he can take 'em - and if they bring up something he can't handle, I'll come back and back him up." Panaka sighed and looked to his queen for orders. "Your Majesty?" Amidala glanced at her retainers for a moment, sizing up their grim expressions before saying, "We shall heed the words of the Jedi's brother. Even if," and here she looked directly at Len and Emmy, "we do not understand their meaning. Order your men out, Captain; we have a great distance yet to cover." Achika pressed on in the lead, slicing away a path through the brush and grass, followed by Panaka and his guardsmen. Len and Emmy flanked the queen and her retainers, crouched down so their heads remained below the level of the brush. Occasionally they glanced backwards towards Corwin, who trailed behind, looking wary but not terribly concerned. "Are you sure he'll be all right?" Emmy asked. "Positive," Corwin said. Several decks below the bridge, in his meditation chamber, Darth Vader stirred for the first time in hours. Something was wrong, or soon to be wrong; the Force whispered to him of danger, not immediate but close at hand. Scowling under his mask, he rose from his seat and swept from the chamber. He arrived on the bridge to find the atmosphere charged with tension. Captain Tsonis stood in front of his command chair, watching the progress of a group of blips on the main viewscreen, blips moving over section of a map of the planet below. A ground assault force? "Who ordered a ground assault?" Vader demanded, storming toward the center seat. Tsonis was calm, happy, positively smug, having completely regained his composure after his last clash with Vader. "I did," Tsonis replied, not looking away from the viewer. "For what reason?" "Those 'observational subjects' of yours have managed to reach the Forbidden Island. They're obviously looking for something they might be able to use to turn back our invasion. My orders are quite clear: they have proven to be a threat to our forces, they must be destroyed." "Not acceptable," Vader declared flatly. "Recall the attack force at once." "No," replied Tsonis, looking at Vader for the first time. His black eyes glittered as he glared at the Dark Lord. "As I have said, my orders are quite clear. You cannot supercede them this time. You are not in command of this fleet, Lord Vader." "My authority comes directly from Acting President Palpatine," said Vader calmly. "Recall your attack force, immediately." "I refuse!" Tsonis snarled. "My orders come from above Palpatine." "Oh?" replied Vader in a mocking tone. "I was not aware there -was- a greater authority in all the vast holdings of the glorious United Federation of Planets." Tsonis's face flushed. "Listen to me, you pompous fool!" he hissed. "Palpatine may believe you to be some kind of great dark prophet from another age, but to me you're just a crazed relic. Go back to your hiding place and - and - accckkk!!!" Tsonis staggered back, clutching at his throat, and fell to one knee. The uniformed Starfleet personnel all shrank away, eyes wide with terror. "Guards!" Tsonis choked. "Seize... him!" The two Psi Cops who flanked the door were already moving, drawing their sidearms and commanding Vader to cease and remain where he was. He ignored their telepathic attempts to halt him and whirled, his cloak billowing behind him. As they raised their weapons, the Dark Lord produced his lightsaber, and with two quick flashes of the scarlet blade he cut the guards down before they could get off a shot. Now, he knew, the die was cast. The death cries of those two telepaths would carry the news of his renegade status to all the Psi Corps operatives in the fleet, and it was a pretty good bet their coordinating officer would have a good idea where Vader would head. Nothing for it, then, but to proceed. Returning his lightsaber to his belt, Vader strode from the bridge without another word. Behind him, Tsonis got unsteadily to his feet, coughing spasmodically. Darth Vader marched briskly through the corridors of the Federation flagship, mostly unopposed until he reached the vast gallery doors leading from the broad central corridor to the main vehicle bay at the rear of the engineering hull. There, as he had expected, most of the security force awaited him. He stopped in the center of the corridor and remained motionless for several seconds as the security officers tried to decide whether to shoot him, attempt to arrest him, or what. In those seconds, they were already lost. Beyond the gallery doors, in the control station, a safety interlock console smoked, then sparked and fizzled, and two switches which were never supposed to move together moved. There was a deep-seated, loud metallic clunk from somewhere below the deck, and the gallery doors began to open. As they did, the outer doors of the great hangar deck began to open as well. This was absolutely not supposed to happen, ever. It had the effect of exposing the central corridor, and any room opening off it which happened to be open, directly to vacuum. Unconcerned, Darth Vader stood his ground in the center of the corridor, his cloak whipping around him in the shrieking wind, as around a tenth of the flagship's atmosphere and most of its security force were catapulted into space. Presently the wind died down, replaced by the eerie silence of space. Not bothered by the vacuum outside his breather mask, Vader strode unhurriedly into the vehicle bay. He ignored the Federation shuttlecraft lined up along the walls and went directly to the ship that, parked in the center of the hangar bay, dominated the room. It was too large for the hangar deck and looked out of place among the white, squared-off Federation craft. It had a spherical body segment with parenthesis-like wings flanking it, and forward from the sphere-body jutted a long, thin tongue of dark-gray metal, like the blade of a gigantic screwdriver. A ramp deployed from the rear of the sphere, just below the two oblong thrust vents, as Vader approached. Without breaking stride, he went up it and into the red-lit interior of the ship. This, the lower of the sphere-body's two decks, contained ingeniously compacted living quarters for, in a pinch, three. Vader ignored it and went straight to the tiny one-man lift that carried him up to the control deck, a round room dominated by narrow forward slit windows, a control station centered on the front wall, and a round holotank-style navicomputer console in the room's center. Four passenger seats, almost never used, were arrayed along the after bulkhead. Vader strapped himself into the command seat and flicked switches, bringing systems from powered stand-by to fully on-line. The ship's immediate and smooth reactions pleased him. The Atlantean Driveworks Dorat-class gunboat had held up well in storage in his vault on Santov, and he had been pleased to find it in perfect working order when he found himself reawakened. Crown Prince Anakyn shar Atrados had been quite the pilot in his time, even before he had been a Jedi Knight. In the Royal Atlantean Star Forces, his fellow pilots had called him "Skywalker" as a tribute to the effortless, natural way in which he flew. His instructors called him the greatest instinctive pilot of his age. When he had turned against his old homeworld and become the dark warlord of the Santovasku Emperor's forces, he had taken his loyal Dorat with him, renaming it from Sunstorm to Shadowstorm but brazenly leaving intact the decorations marking him as an ace with sixteen Santovasku warship kills to his credit. The pilots, and many of the officers, of the Santovasku forces had damned him as a snob for refusing to pilot their revolting biocraft, but not to his face; never to his face. Vader lifted off smoothly, and the gunboat glided out of the hangar deck with the eerie grace that had made its type famous in another age. Around him, the fleet was in some disarray; apparently the signals coming from the Conqueror about the situation were rather jumbled. Vader keyed on his communications gear and scanned the command frequency. Tsonis was bellowing orders so furiously as to be almost incomprehensible, ordering some of his ships to abandon blockade positions temporarily and screen the approaches to the Interdictor. He must have believed Vader intended to leave the system. The Dark Lord shook his head at the telepath's consistent inability to judge him, aimed the Shadowstorm at the biggest Earthforce ship, and powered up his weapons systems. Before the Earthers, who had not been notified as to the reason for their flagship's sudden, bizarre behavior, could realize what was happening, he had strafed and destroyed the command transmission tower. That should set the ground offensive back a bit. Repair techs would get it back in commission sooner or later, but for now, the attack group on the surface was on its own. Vader winged the sleek and shining craft over and felt only the faintest of shivers in the control yoke as the wings shifted and bit into the atmosphere of Naboo. Below, unaware that he was coming, the Earthforce formation closed in on its target. Nall watched with amusement as a nearly solid wave of Earthforce Marines came into view, a row of rustling grass, bushes and trees moving steadily closer. Then he sighed, stretched, yawned, and said, "Well, I guess it's about time to go to work." Bunching his muscles, he leaped from the tree, his wings carrying him straight up into the sky. One of the troopers near the front of the formation spotted him, just for a moment, and fired into the sky, missing him by a mile. That man's attempt to explain to his platoon sergeant what the hell he was doing was drowned out by a bone-rattling roar. Out of the sun dove a monster, an immense flying creature covered in white and gold, its vaguely catlike features set in a terrifying snarl. Before the trooper, his sergeant, or anyone else in his platoon could bring their weapons to bear, a blizzard of razor-sharp ice had howled from the monster's mouth, freezing some of them solid where they stood and cutting the rest down in a spray of blood and screams. The other platoons scattered and regrouped as Nall swooped back up to altitude, smiling in grim satisfaction as he picked out his next target. The main body of the group pressed onward, and as the sounds of battle began echoing behind them, they came to a crumbling fortification of a type none of them recognized. "This must be the place," mused Padme. "I'll check it out," Achika said. "Len, Emmy, you stay here with the Queen." "I'll come with you," said Corwin. "Your Majesty, with your permission, I'll accompany them," said Padme eagerly. Amidala looked like she wanted to protest, but after a moment she nodded, and the three of them went into the building. The interior was just as dilapidated as the exterior; several times they had to double back through broken passageways and find ways around destroyed staircases as they delved into the building. Most of the doors didn't open. Stationed at various places were items which Achika at first took for sculptures, until she eventually realized they must be old, deactivated droids - strange, insectoid things with wicked-looking weapon arms and multiple pointy legs. She was just as glad none of them were working. The ninth door they tried, two levels down, creaked eerily as it opened, and Achika stepped out into the corridor beyond with the others crowding behind her - To see the glowing red photoreceptors of another of those arachnoform droids. This one, unlike those on the upper level, appeared still to be operational; it turned, swinging its weapons toward her with a whining servo noise. "Down!" she cried, dropping to the floor and hoping like hell the others would follow suit. The robot finished turning and raising its arms, and Achika braced herself for the first bellowing volley of fire... but it never came. The red glow of its eyes flickered and died, and with a low, slow humming decline, it seemed to settle somehow, remaining in its position but becoming subtly and unmistakably inert. Tentatively, Achika got to her feet, walked toward it, waved her hand in front of its dark eyes. It was definitely not responsive; in fact, it made no sound at all now. "What happened to it?" Padme wondered aloud. "Dunno," Corwin admitted, stepping past Achika to examine the robot. "Looks like it just ran out of power." "Good timing," Achika commented. "Yep," replied Corwin. "But hey, good luck is my specialty." "I thought machines were your specialty." "They are," replied Corwin with a wink, and Achika rolled her eyes. "Man!" Corwin continued, ignoring her. "This thing is -ancient-." "It's in a lot better shape than the ones topside, though," Achika noted. "Hasn't been exposed to the elements all these years," Corwin replied, nodding. "I think... I think it's Mandalorian." He ran a hand across its dully gleaming dorsal armor, feeling the slope and thickness of the smooth armor plate. "Yeah," said Corwin. "It is! It's an old, old, OLD Mandalorian war droid. This installation was Mandalorian? I wonder what they were doing here? Not too important right now, I suppose," he continued. "Let's see what was so important Mr. Roboto here was ready to blow us to little bits to protect it." He edged around the robot to the door beyond, grabbed the rusty iron ring, and pulled. Nothing happened. Irked, Corwin set himself and pulled again, harder this time. Again, nothing happened. Achika was about to step up and offer to cut it open when Corwin set himself again and HEAVED at the ring. CRACK! He rebounded as the ring came away in his hands, slamming his back into the back of the robot and unbalancing it. The robot crashed heavily to the floor, face down, but striking it had bled off enough of Corwin's momentum that he was able to stop without falling; he teetered for a moment, then steadied, and, tossing the ring aside, gestured at the door. "Well, that wasn't so hard." The door was standing open an inch or so, its passage leaving a scraped trail in the eons of dust on the floor. Heedless of possible danger, Corwin shoved it the rest of the way open and stepped through; figuring if anything really vile happened he'd get it first, the rest followed. "Huh," said Padme, sounding disappointed as she stopped next to Corwin in the middle of the large, mainly empty chamber beyond. "Nothing in here but this big metal box." And, indeed, except for a great deal of dust and some thoroughly entrenched-looking cobwebs in the corners, the only thing in the room, a circular stone chamber about thirty feet across with a high, vaulted dome ceiling, was a one-step dais on which sat a large box made of some dull silver metal, a couple of feet wide and deep by about seven feet long. On the top, under the dust, could be seen some faded writing - at least, they assumed it was writing - in some curious, crabbed-looking, stilted script. The box wasn't quite rectangular - it was wider at the far end than the near, its long shape an elongated hexagon rather than a rectangle. It reminded Achika uncomfortably of a coffin. The walls of the chamber, under their caked ages of dust, were covered with once-colorful paintings, their details obscured by the dust. At the apex of the domed ceiling, right above the metal box, there was a massive stone disk which capped the vault. On it was painted what appeared to a stylized eyelid, a closed eye. Ignoring the dusty art, Corwin circled the box, brushing the encrusted dust away from its corners and edges. "Hmm. Dunno what the metal is... no latches I can see, though. Looks like this side is hinged." Putting aside his staff, he pounded experimentally on the sides and top of the box, finally locating a small depression along the side where his fingers would fit. "Uh, Corwin, what are you doing?" Padme inquired. "What does it - urgh! - look like I'm doing? I'm opening - guh! - the box!" Corwin replied, heaving at the top of the container. "Sloppy, Corwin," said Achika with a sardonic grin. "You didn't even #untrap it first." "Ha ha ha. You wanna give me a - gurf! - hand with this?" "Not especially," replied Achika, her grin widening. "Especially since you're trying to open the side with the hinges on it," Padme added. "Huh?" Corwin looked down at his dust-grimed hands and realized that she was right - the depression he had been tugging on was a hinge point. Going to the other side of the box he realized that what he had taken for a hinge was really a long pin-overlap latch. "Ahh, phrack." It took him only a moment to pull the rod out of the latch and lay it aside, and then the cover opened smoothly and quietly, letting out a puff of curiously fragrant air and revealing the box's contents. Corwin, observing what lay within, produced the most incisive and definitive comment he could muster: "Oo." /* W.A. Mozart "Introitus" _Requiem, K. 626_ */ The others gathered around as Corwin let the lid of the box fold over the hinged side, completely out of the way. Inside the metal box, cushioned on a formed bed of some satiny material like an old-fashioned dueling pistol, lay a woman, trim, elaborately dressed, and quite beautiful, with long, pale blue hair and skin that came very close to being actually white. Her face was perfectly composed as if in peaceful sleep, her features somewhat sharp and angular but finely formed and quite lovely. Her hands were not folded over her chest in the classic attitude of the coffin, but were rather arranged naturally at her sides. She did not look dead. All in the room had seen enough of death to know its attitude. "Hul-lo," said Corwin, regaining his wits and reaching into the box to pick up the object which was nestled into the padding next to the woman's body. "What's this?" At first sight it appeared to be a large pole arm, some sort of halberd or battle axe. Then Corwin noticed that what he had taken for an axe head was far from sharp; rather, it was a large, solid piece of metal, formed into an elaborate shape rather -like- a battle axe head, and covered with elaborate engraving. It was too light to be a melee weapon, anyway. Further, the two blue globes were transparent; touching his fingertips to one, he found it was cool and unyielding, and didn't feel quite like glass, as he had expected. He knocked on one experimentally; it rang clearly, but didn't feel fragile. Touching but not yet grasping it, Corwin paused, not knowing quite what to make of it; then, noting the flat place between the two spheres which was obviously meant as a handhold, he gripped it firmly there with his right hand. The lights in the room dimmed a trifle, and a low mechanical thrum filled the air. The two globes glowed softly, crackling internally like old-fashioned plasma globe ornaments. "Whoa," Corwin murmured, standing up and turning the staff over in his hands. "I suppose it's futile to tell him this is a bad idea," Padme muttered to Achika. "He wouldn't hear us if we told him," replied Achika. A curiously energized feeling filled the musty air of the chamber, and the low thrum increased. Everyone - except Corwin, who was much too fascinated to be taken aback by anything - drew back a step as, silently, the coffined woman started to glow, then rose to her feet as if moved by a lever. She did not flex or make any effort; she did not move at all, other than to rise. Her hair moved a bit in a faint circular breeze that had begun inexplicably to blow in the room, but that was the only motion to be seen. Corwin remained puzzled for a minute or two, circling the woman slowly, his keen blue eyes roaming over her with an engineer's fascination rather than a man's lechery. For Corwin had become convinced, at about the moment when the residual energy in the room had stood the short hairs on the back of his neck on end, that what he was looking at here was a mechanism, the most amazingly sophisticated mechanism he had ever seen in his life. His entire consciousness was occupied by a single, burning, driving question: How does this work? It was then, as he completed his slow orbit, that he saw the small gap in the woman's black, silken raiments at the small of her back, and the gleam of something metallic beyond. Reaching out a reverent hand and ignoring as irrelevant the small jolts as tiny tongues of blue lightning licked at his fingers, he uncovered a small round socket, lined with a metal that might have been brass but was not. "What the... ?" he murmured, his curiosity raging within his breast. The mark on his forehead began to glow as he threw all his mental horsepower at the puzzle, and a slow look of comprehension spread across his face, pacing exactly the smile that spread with it. He looked down at the axe-staff in his hand and knew it for what it was. "It's not an axe at all," he declared, holding it up axe-fashion and then abruptly turning it sideways in his hands. "It's a KEY!" Padme looked at Achika, who shrugged. /* W.A. Mozart "Kyrie" _Requiem, K.626_ */ Corwin turned the giant key in his hands, lined up the brass bit at the end with the socket on the back of the woman, and gave a tentative push. Click. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," said Achika. Corwin took the broad end in his hands, and, trusting that most powerful instinct within him which never led him seriously astray, gave it a gentle half-turn clockwise. There came a ratcheting sound; as he applied pressure, the woman stiffened, still unconscious, her arms flexing and fingers clawing at nothing; when he ceased, she slackened again. Little spurts of lightning played over the key and Corwin's hands. Letting out an almost involuntary laugh of pleasure and triumph, Corwin half-turned it again, and got the same reaction. Then, knowing he was going the right way, he got seriously underway, and as he did, he began to laugh, deeply, roundly, uncontrollably, raising his voice in triumph as he gave the machine-woman what he hoped would be at least a semblance of life. As he wound, the lightning display built to a fever pitch, covering the key, the woman, Corwin himself, and spurting off to scratch against the walls, burning clear trails in the dust and setting the room ablaze with flickering blue light. The crackling sound of the lightning rose to a blistering roar, drowning out the ratcheting sound of the winding itself and Corwin's exultant laughter. Padme looked at Achika, who shrugged. Corwin felt more than heard the click that told him he'd reached the end, wound the mechanism as far as it would go. As he felt it, the woman's eyes snapped open. He couldn't see it, but he could tell from Padme and Achika's reactions that it must have happened; they drew back a half-step, their own eyes full of wonder and apprehension combined. The lightning flared in a final grand spurt, and on the ceiling, the great engraved eye opened, glowing down upon them with a baleful red glow. Then the lightning died away, flickering and ebbing until, as Corwin withdrew the key from its socket, only a few fitful sparks remained, leaping from key-tip to socket-edge. For a long moment, there was silence. The woman stepped out of the end of her "coffin" with a breathtaking spare grace, a perfect economy of movement which wasted no energy, every motion exactly as long and as forceful as it needed to be - no more, no less. Once outside, she turned smoothly and brought her bottomless blue eyes to bear on Corwin, regarding him coldly, as one might regard an end table with a particularly unimpressive lamp on it. When she spoke, her voice had the same ruthless efficiency as her movements, but in the medium of sound it did not carry the same bare grace - no inflection, median volume, understandable but somewhat harsh. "My name is Ifurita," she said. "Nice to meet you," replied Corwin, somewhat hoarsely. "I'm Corwin Ravenhair." "You are the holder of the power-key staff," Ifurita observed. "Well, yes, I am," Corwin replied. "I have - " "That is all that is important," said Ifurita flatly. She turned away, regarding Achika and Padme. "Your allies?" "Yes," said Corwin. Ifurita made no reply save to nod stiffly. Then, taking the staff from Corwin's slack hands, she turned to him. "Your instructions?" "Pardon?" "Your instructions?" Ifurita repeated in exactly the same tone. Corwin smiled. Inside his head, his mind was racing; being in the firestorm, turning the key, he had been linked to Ifurita on levels he was only beginning to sort out, and he had a fairly good idea of her capabilities. Much more than a pretty face, indeed. "On the surface, there are a group of men and women and a large white creature doing battle against many enemies in strange, angular aircraft and armored vehicles. Assist them. You know the way to the surface?" Without a trace of humor, Ifurita replied, "Up." Then she turned the power staff so that the key end pointed up, and discharged a bolt of blue energy which bored a hole to the surface. Without another word, up she went. For a long moment, there was silence. "Hmph," said Corwin. "Somebody spent about five minutes writing that social interaction program." He folded his arms and scowled at the hole in the ceiling. "So much for craftsmanship." Padme looked at Achika, who shrugged. Vader pulled the Shadowstorm out of its steep entry dive and settled into a shrieking nap-of-the-earth (or, well, ocean) approach vector for the island, locking the targeting system for his fighter's paired proton torpedo launchers on the hovering dropships. The ship's twin, parenthesis-like wings shifted again, opening a bit wider around the ship's spherical fuselage. By the time the transports noticed he was there, he'd knocked them out of the sky, his ship cruising serenely through the fireballs of their destruction and angling over the water for the nearest of the fighter groups. Ifurita rose through the shattered remains of the ancient fortress and into the sky, freed for the first time since her masters had abandoned her. (The early colonist who had begun the legend of the Forbidden Island had never come close to actually seeing her; he'd encountered one of the guardian robots in the days when most of them were still operating, panicked, and fled.) Once the ruins were behind her, everything seemed as it had during the brief window between her arrival here and her deactivation, ages ago: a scrubby island on the planetary equator in the middle of an immense, frequently stormy ocean. She scarcely noticed that the ocean was calm today and the weather sunny; her attention was focused, to the exclusion of all else, on the group of Naboo royal guardsmen and the immense white creature attempting to hold off a sizeable army of ground troops and air forces. A rapid analysis of the situation led Ifurita to deduce that the larger force, both ground and air, was her designated target. She noted four basic varieties of ground troops: standard unarmored infantry, anti-armor infantry, heavy weapons infantry and power-armor infantry. A quick analysis of the various equipment revealed it to be significantly inferior to the weapons available during the period of her construction. No threat. It took Ifurita only an instant to page mentally through a thousand pre-programmed attacks and select an initial strike. "Seismic Wave," she murmured, aiming the key at the ground just in front of the presumed-allied giant monster. A wave of energy lunged out from the tip, slamming into the ground and stretching left and right before vanishing. Two seconds later, the ground erupted in a long rolling wave of motion, knocking the Earthforce Marines from their feet, rocks and debris pummeling them as the semicircular earthquake dissipated itself. The defenders of the fortress were untouched. Noting her actions, a couple of the slow, inefficient flying craft turned to confront her. A couple of them fired their phasers at her, knocking her back briefly. She quickly stopped her momentum and paused while her systems analyzed the attack and made repairs. "Attack: highly phased electroplasmic energy. Analyzed and assimilated." She brought up the key again and fired, the beam emerging the more familiar color of phaser fire... only ten times as potent as those mounted on the assault shuttles. The shields on both craft parted like onion paper under the blasts, and both shuttles disintegrated in balls of flame. With immediate threats dispatched, Ifurita paused to further examine the tactical situation. As she analyzed the force deployments and movements, she noted a large black spacecraft soaring down from orbit, leading edges still glowing with reentry heat. As it flew past her and strafed two other assault shuttles, she filed it as neutral-presumed-friendly and otherwise ignored it. In fact, she thought, the entire airborne force could be ignored; the true threat was on the ground. Corwin led the group out of the depths of the catacombs, leaving the others blinking in the sunlight of the old castle bailey as he rushed forward to where Nall was holding back about a battalion of armored Earthforce troopers. A couple of stray blasts from Federation phaser rifles shrieked around his head, and the dragon responded by showering the jungle whence the blasts had come with jagged lances of frost. They'd brought down reinforcements, Corwin saw. That was expected, though he could have hoped they'd take longer at it. Overhead, dozens of assault shuttles, slow and bulky, swept the skies, circling the royal party like vultures. Corwin waved up to them, smiling cheerfully into the face of dozens of phaser emitters and torpedo launchers. As he did so, Corwin completed his analysis of the battle situation. The biggest problem they faced was that they didn't have much air cover to counter all the Feddie aerospacecraft that had congregated. Nall had to stay on the ground to protect the royal entourage's flank, which wasn't the most effective use of his powers; he'd be much better as an air unit, if a heavy hitter could be found to replace him on the ground. Fortunately, Corwin knew just where to find one. As the enemy noticed him standing alone and more blaster fire began to fly his way, he nodded to himself, raised his wristwatch to his lips and shouted, "BIG O! It's SHOWTIME!" The ground rumbled beneath his feet as he spoke, and the blaster fire tapered off as tremors rang back to the Earthforce troops. With the sound of cracking rock and rustling foilage, a huge, spike-knuckled iron fist burst from the ground beneath Corwin. The young man didn't seem at all perturbed by that; he rode it up into the sky, arms folded, as an arm followed the fist, as a gigantic body followed the arm. A great copper-helmeted head looked upward, staring impassively at the tiny figure standing atop the knuckles of his mighty fist, as Big O stepped out of the crater left by his emergence. Bits of rock and dirt showered down from the ridges and crags of his armor as he moved. Padme Naberrie (still recovering from the shock of realizing that the giant monster helping them must be Nall) blinked in astonishment, grabbed Queen Amidala's sleeve, and yanked it. The monarch turned and blinked right along with her handmaiden, momentarily dumbstruck by the spectacle. Corwin rode the hand as it lowered him down to the Rune God of Iron's chestplate, which opened to allow him into the cockpit. As the Iron Knight settled within the familiar control ring, the usual activation message scrolled across the center display: CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD YE NOT GUILTY "All right, Big O," said Corwin with a grin. He grasped the joysticks and guided the Rune God forward. "Let's go to work." Early on in its history, the United Federation of Planets Starfleet had made the strategic determination that the combination of impulse engines and phaser arrays on starships made starfighters obsolete, and therefore that it did not pay to retain fighter carriers as part of their force. Despite the fact that this determination had never quite come true, and that starfighters were still proving speedy, versatile and potent enough to be effective, Starfleet kept to this doctrine until the 2400s, when it commissioned a handful of the new Nebula-class cruisers as carriers for Earthforce's fighter of choice, the Lockheed F-71J Starfury. Since the Starfury was next to useless in an atmosphere, this left the job of ground cover for Starfleet or Earthforce troops to the boxy assault shuttles and runabouts, underpowered transports with minimal weaponry and limited speed and maneuverability. Of course, these drawbacks hardly mattered when the enemy had no significant fighter presence or antiaircraft weaponry to resist attack. The pilot of one assault shuttle had recovered from the shock of seeing the biggest God-damn Destroid he'd ever heard of - bastard had to be super-assault-class, two hundred tons at least - spring out of the ground and begin attacking the ground troops below, swatting away armored suits and knocking back teams of regular infantry with blow after blow. With a grim smile he brought his shuttle around behind the slow-moving robot, arming concussion missiles for a literal back-stab maneuver. A moment later, he ceased to exist, himself and his craft reduced to vapor by a blast from Ifurita's keystaff. Len and Emmy ran to catch up to Corwin, leaving Queen Amidala, Captain Panaka, and the handmaidens and protectors to form a sort of skirmish line behind them. Ifurita dropped from the sky to land on Big O's shoulder, directing blasts of various kinds into the squads of marines below Corwin's line of fire. Above, two shadows soared around the slow-moving shuttles and troop transports, blasting one after another into scrap. One of the shadows (Len explained) was Nall, changed to his full size and pounding hell out of the enemy air cover, but the other... Emmy paused in her running, looking up the other shadow, a large dark wedge of some sort with wings that contained the after section of the ship like parentheses. It looked a bit like a GENOM TIE fighter, one of the later models with the bent wings - but only vaguely. As she watched, it banked around for another attack run... and as Emmy stared, she could feel something staring back, a deeply malevolent presence regarding her with detached interest. As she stared, Emmy thought she felt a compulsion through the Force. Another will was holding her in place while it looked her over. She struggled to free herself from its influence, making one step back and then another, unable to look away from the rapidly approaching starfighter. The black craft accelerated towards her, dropping in altitude, and the polarized viewpoints atop the bulge of the main body gazed at her like baleful dark eyes. Emitters on the chin of the craft flickered to life, and blaster fire flashed out - - over Emmy's head and into a trio of Earthforce armored troopers, who had flanked the group unnoticed by anyone. Smoke rose from the inert armored bodies as the dark fighter pulled up and way, banking hard to port and soaring away over the open ocean. With it went the unseen watcher, and Emmy's heart slowed down to a more normal pace as she felt the presence vanish. Emmy turned around to face her friends, only to see them a considerable way ahead of her: Big O himself was almost back to the top of the ridge overlooking the fortress, and the others were barely distinguishable around his feet. Beyond them, Emmy could sense a large number of panicking minds; the Earthforce and Federation troops were breaking under the combined assault of dragon, Destroid, android, and Queen's Protectors. Emmy took a moment to find the calm and focus of the Jedi battle trance, and then with the Force boosting her speed she ran to catch up, twin lightsabers parting the smoldering brush in her path. Tsonis slumped in his command chair and scowled at the bridge viewscreen. The ship's sensors were turned up to maximum magnification, which was just enough to make out plumes of smoke across the Forbidden Island, and hints of motion which might be troopers or the enemy. Of course, the giant white flying creature and the even more immense robot were easily visible on the screen, but that only made things worse. The audio track matched the images almost disaster for disaster. Tsonis had ordered the marines' command channels put on bridge speakers so he could track the mission, and now the bridge was filled with panicky voices making garbled status reports... and now, almost to a man, begging for extraction. "Is anybody -listening- up there?" one voice shouted into the clear. "This is Colonel D'arcy! We have taken thirty percent casualties! Two-thirds of our shuttles are down! None of our weapons can so much as scratch their Destroid! They are counterattacking with weapons we can't even identify! Scrub this mission and get my men the hell OUT!" "Turn it off," Tsonis snapped disgustedly. "Lieutenant Caspar, align weapons for surface bombardment." "Sir?" Caspar asked in shock. As accurate and potent as phaser fire was, it degraded badly in orbital bombardment. Firing on the island would, beyond all doubt, take out a large number of the Marines as well... and photon torpedoes were strictly prohibited for surface fire, period. "In the American Revolution, on Earth, there was a battle in which the armies of the two sides we so closely engaged that neither side's generals could exercise any control over the troops," Tsonis informed him. "The British won the day by firing their cannon into the mass of intermingled soldiers to force them apart. The victory justified the deaths of friendly troops." He pointed to the now-silent viewscreen and said, "Our ship's guns can take out that Destroid. No armor can withstand a sustained phaser bombardment. We may lose some of our troops in the blasts... but all of -theirs- will be killed. Now prepare to fire," Tsonis hissed, "or prepare to be part of the collateral damage." TO BE CONTINUED...