The planning discussion can be found here.

In all her years of smuggling, Samantha Koortyn had never actually been arrested.  Captured: yes.  Enslaved: yes.  Shot: yes.  Blaster-whipped: yes.  But never actually brought up on any charges related to her line of work.  Now, after working legitimately for the government for a year, she walked the corridors of the New Republic Headquarters, handcuffed, deprived of her weapon, by that same government.  (Her dignity?  That had been stolen long ago.)

“Can you at least tell us what we’re being charged with?” she asked their escorts.  “You can’t hold us without charging us.”

The sound of their footsteps echoing along the corridor was her only reply.

“We just risked our necks for you guys.  Some didn’t make it back.  We saved a planet.”  The last may not have been entirely true.

Their escorts glanced uneasily at one another.

“That’s it.”  Sam halted in her tracks.  “I’m not going any farther until someone tells me what is going on.”  She locked eyes with the nearest soldier.  “You want to shoot me, shoot me.”  It wouldn’t be the first time she endured a blaster wound.  It wouldn’t even be the first time this year.  Or the second time.  And all for the New Republic…

Quietly, Ranzen moved through the small group.  “Please keep walking,” he urged, and Sam felt a wave of calm wash over her.  “I’ll try to explain on the way.”

Instantly she knew what he was doing.  “Do that again, and you lose an appendage.”  She heard a snort from someone nearby but could not tell who made the sound.  Han or Marcus, probably; Corran was doing everything he could to maintain his own calm but Sam knew he was seething just under the surface.

A hand lay on her shoulder and another soothing wave rolled over her.  Jedi.  They were combining forces.  Sam’s urge to break the wrist of that hand was quelled almost immediately, and that made her even more angry.  Color rose up her neck and began to shadow her face; a blood vessel in her forehead pulsated.

This was not going well.

“Treason,” Ranzen finally spoke, his voice still maddeningly calm.  “You are all being arrested for treason.”  He signaled for the group to resume their journey.  Her companions each registered a level of surprise, but wisely remained silent.

Treason? Sam was so baffled that she allowed herself to be lead down the corridor again.  “Treason?” she repeated, aloud this time.  “I know we didn’t actually catch the bad guy, but–”

“It’s not that,” the Jedi interrupted.  “It’s something else.  I don’t know all the details, so please be patient while we find out together.”


Finding out did not serve to placate the smuggler.  They had each been led into separate interrogation rooms, presumably so that they could not get their stories straight, and now they showed Sam a holo of her alleged crimes.  Realizing that it was her old nemesis, Tarsk Mal’fey, who had engineered the entire ruse, falsifying the information being presented with digital effects, angered Sam further, but then the holo flickered and began to show footage of a fighting match: the Zeltron and herself, when she had been enslaved and trained as a gladiator.

Now the color that had risen in her face drained out, leaving her with a pallid, hollow countenance.  That she had only killed her opponents – for there had been more than a few – so that she herself could survive and continue to ensure Han’s safety and freedom, now seemed a waste.  That the Zeltron and the others would have been killed regardless for losing did not matter.  In this case, the holo didn’t lie.  She had committed cold-blooded murder.

She sat in silence as the rest of the charges were then read out, her mind working furiously.  In the expectant pause that followed, she spoke.  “I want my droid.”

“Your astromech… ah, Frak…” the youngish male human faltered at using the curse word as a name, “is being analyzed–”

“If his memory is wiped I will kill you myself,” Sam leaned forward as she interjected.  The irony of the threat, under the current circumstances, eluded her, and would probably serve to damn her further, if it were used against her later as evidence.  “But he’s not the one I want.  Send me Rattler.”

Rattler, who had been the property of Mal’fey and a reminder of a normal life.  And who, Sam fervently hoped, contained some damning evidence of his own.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

<b>The Jedi Conference Chambers: New Republic Headquarters</b>

The room was just as Master Ranzen Elara remembered it– eclectic. Most people would have described it as a museum rather than a conference chamber. It was a domed room with white walls broken up into pielike segments by deep arches made of dark wood. The high ceilings created the sense of a meditation room as featured back at the Jedi Temple on Yavin IV. There were a few unmatched chairs, each one distinct enough to mark it as an artifact of some sort. The back of one was emblazoned with the emblem of the Old Republic– restored from the buried archives that Emperor Palpatine had once ordered shut. On the walls were old Jedi artifacts found from various worlds, many which were donated by private parties.

Given the past of the Galactic Civil War, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised to see the rarity of each artifact and the effort the Empire attempted to destroy every last item. The Jedi Knights had been through a lot, more than nearly any other group. They had a right to this room, their conference chamber, as a memory to that proud past and to those fallen.

One of the members of the Council of Security and Intelligence, General Carlist Rieekan, came into the room slowly. Rieekan had survived a recent poisoning attempt, which was intended to throw the New Republic into chaos during the Black Fleet Crisis. He had a cough that had gotten worse since the last time Ranzen had visited him. The general wore a white military uniform with a cape, black with a gray lining. Behind him walked Master Luke Skywalker with datapad in hand and lightsaber clipped to his belt. The Jedi Master pulled back his cowl to show his aged face. He was much older, experienced, and wiser, a sudden contrast than he was during Yoda's training back on Dagobah.

Rieekan reach out and shook Ranzen's hand. "It pleases me the mission on Vjun was partially successful, Master Elara. Although I must extend my condolences on the loss of Master Geo Bake and his apprentice, Split Infinity." His voice was deep and did not betray his age. "On behalf of the New Republic, I tell you we are thankful for your service and extend it to Rogue Squadron."

Ranzen bowed his head in respect. "I am honored as well, General. I just hope we eventually find where the Sith have escaped."

"I know there are a few leads, and you reported to Skywalker that you are pursuing one of them," Rieekan replied. "That is why earlier he dispatched two Jedi to meet you at your quarters. I assume you dispatched them to Naboo, already?"

The Jedi Master allowed himself a frown. "Yes, General. They are also the same two Jedi that escorted my friends when they were arrested. I wish to know what is the meaning of such action and why I was thrown in the middle of this fiasco?" He waved his hand to indicate the room but symbolically spoke of everyone present. "All of you know Corran and his companions are innocent. The accusations are most likely some farce."

The general offered a wide smile. "That is why I <I>had</i> to let them be arrested, Ranzen. I know Corran Antilles and his companions wouldn't do such things, but we need to know who is at the bottom of this. That is why I am going to have General Earryk Phaeden of the N.R.I. notified to take charge of this investigation. But until then, we need to hold them in custody for the time being until we know who is behind it." He paused and nodded. "But where are my manners? Would you like something to drink? As I recall, most Jedi prefer tea." He stepped forward to call an aide, but Ranzen waved him off.

"I appreciate the offer, General," he replied. "But as with so many things lately, time is of the essence. To be blunt, I have a suspicion that these arrests may be tied to the Sith, somehow. Since my arrival, I've sensed something… elusive. It may be the dark side clouding something. To add, there is something else disturbing." Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a small holoprojector and activated it on the palm of his hand. The projection came to life as a message began to play.

"This is the reason Master Skywalker and I felt that we needed to dispatch our Jedi to Naboo," Ranzen informed. "Somebody on Naboo secretly transmitted this message requesting our immediate attention. There has been word of a newly appointed senator and apparently there is a separatist faction claiming responsibility for several attacks against the government in response. All attempts at communication have gone unanswered. Given the political figures involved I feel it is something we need to look into."

The message finished and Ranzen withdrew the projector as Master Skywalker intervened. "We're not saying Naboo or the arrests have anything to do with each other. Nor do we know if even the Sith is involved. But we do know we need to investigate both cases."

"This I agree with," Rieekan phrased his words carefully. "If this is the case, then I will say the Jedi need to be involved in both. Naboo will be investigated soon. I will say perhaps Master Elara should be directly involved in looking into Corran's arrest, along with his companions. But I will say the evidence is damning and the charges may stick. Just now, one of Corran's companions has been charged with murder."

He shook his head. "This is not good. Can you contact the N.R.I. to see if I can work alongside them?" Ranzen asked.

"I will ask General Phaeden if it is possible," Rieekan said without hesitation. "We don't have much time. They are already taking statements from everyone and it's only days when the prosecution will gather enough evidence to decide a court date. If we don't have anything to counter it by that time, then your companions may end up mining on Kessel."

Ranzen frowned. <I>This sounds like someone wants them out of the way. Why? An act of revenge? Or something deeper?</I>

The general waved his hand as if to dispel the concern. "I wouldn't worry too much, Master Elara. I am sure the Jedi along with the N.R.I. can figure out what is going on. I just hope the evidence is not the truth to what they have done."

Master Skywalker understood the comment. "I'll assign Ranzen to Corran's case. In the meantime, I have to return to Yavin IV to oversee the pyre funerals to Master Bake and Split."

Ranzen bowed slightly to his mentor. "Master Skywalker, I'm sorry I cannot attend their funerals, but I won't fail you. I need to begin my investigation immediately and await the N.R.I. to contact me."

General Rieekan pulled out a datapad and handed it to the Jedi. "Here is the latest updates on the case. I hope it will give you a few leads. I would probably start with the person who pressed the charges in the first place: Tarsk Mal'fey, head of <I>Mal'fey Shipping & Trade</I>." He continued as Ranzen carefully read through the display. "Be very heedful with Mal'fey. He has ties to many high officials and will probably use you to manipulate his story more."

"I see," the Jedi muttered, placing the datapad into the pocket of his robe. "Then I shall be wary."

"Master Elara, I also advise to be leery as well. I sense the dark side, everywhere," Skywalker said cautiously.

"Of course, Master," Ranzen replied, as if he already anticipated the statement. He turned to Rieekan. "I thank you, General," the Jedi said, bowing his head again. "If you don't mind, I wish to begin my investigation."

"If anything is needed, feel free to contact me. Watch your back," he said discreetly. He extended his hand and they shook again.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

*CLANG* the sound of a steel-toe boot hitting a metal latrine echoed throughout the cell block, followed quickly by the expletive “Frakking Mal’Fey!”

“Sam, calm down” Marcus replied in an even voice from his cell.  “Breaking your foot is not going to help the situation.” he added.

“Maybe not, but it makes me feel better” Sam said softly through gritted teeth as she continued to pace in her cell.  

“Don’t worry Sam, we’ll get out of this.  You’ll see…I mean it’s not true, we’re innocent.  We have nothing to worry about” Han said trying to sound confident.    

Sam just gave Han a look through the clear force field imprisoning them.  It was hallow with an expression that wanted to believe him, but her experiences in life had proven otherwise.  Turning, she said “We’re not all innocent Han…”, and she trailed off as she sat down on the duracrete slab which was her new bed.  

“Sam, stop that, don’t you believe their lies…”, but Sam had turned away and didn’t respond.  Marcus was lying on the slab, his goggled eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.  He knew Sam’s pattern, this was just her way of dealing with stuff.  Being calmed by Jedi and accused of a murder she was forced to commit would have taken a toll on her.  Han’s heart was in the right place, but it wasn’t what Sam needed right now.  Lifting his head up, he whispered to Han “Hey…”

Han turned his head slightly and raised his eyebrows.

“Leave her be, she needs to calm down, or she’s going to just get more pissed and shut us out more.  She needs process time.” Marcus said in a soft whisper.      

Han rolled his eyes and turned back to Sam.  His immediate reaction was to tell Marcus where he could shove it.  Han was able to suppress his emotions for the Vjun mission, but he was still pretty ticked at Marcus for giving Sam a ring, whatever it meant.  Still, he could tell that in this situation, Marcus might just be right.

Han backed away from the force field and half-heartedly punched the wall to trigger his own slab to slide out.  He sat down on the end, and rubbed his face.  He’d been awake far too long without Caf, and it was starting to trigger a headache.  Glancing over to his cell mate who was calmly lying there seemingly without a care in the world Han said softly “How are you so calm?”

“Calm…well I guess that’s a word for it.” Marcus replied in a hushed tone without moving.

Han was starting to get annoyed, “You got another word?”

Marcus thought back to an hour ago when he’d seen the charges and had thrown the datapad across the room in his rage. Yeah, “calm” wasn’t exactly the word he’d use.  Troutman had warned Marcus of a shitstorm brewing, but being charged with Treason was never in the realm of possibility.  As a loyal soldier, one’s mind generally doesn’t go to the unthinkable.  All this went through Marcus’ mind as he sat up slowly until the two men were inches apart.  “Focused…I’m just trying to piece together the puzzle that put us here.”

“Puzzle?”  Han scoffed “I think it’s pretty obvious that they charged us with treason, and we’re awaiting trial, what’s to puzzle about?”

“Well yeah, but think about the way they went about it, I mean that wasn’t odd to you?”

Han thought back and said “We were arrested and brought to Jail, that’s pretty cut and dry.”

“Well yeah, but it was how we were arrested I was referring too.” Marcus said

“When we got off the transport?” Han questioned.

“Exactly!”  Marcus said pointing his finger at Han.  “In broad daylight, within public view…”  Marcus raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point.

“They could have waited till we were in debriefing rooms within 10 minutes!” Han said a little too loudly as he started to get Marcus’ point.  His outburst caused Sam to stir slightly.

 “I mean check out where we are.”  Marcus said returning to a whisper as he gestured around.  “They emptied a high security wing out for just us.  They wrangled up 4 ysalamiri for Corran’s cell over there.”  Marcus pointed his thumb in the direction of the cell next to Sam’s where a faint green glow shone from the nutrient packs sustaining the force-inhibiting creatures.  “Even I know that you don’t find those at your local pet store.  They were just waiting for us to get back.  We know this stinks of something rotten, but it’s probably something public too.  It’s a good bet that the entire planet if not the core knows about this.”

Han stroked his stubble.  “Ok, now I have to lie down…Han said lying back on his slab and putting his hands over his face.  I just hate that there is nothing we can do about it.” Han replied rubbing his hands through his hair.  

“I know…” Marcus admitted with a sigh.  Han had hit on a nerve that had been nagging at Marcus since he’d left the interrogation room.  Give him an objective, he’d complete it.  An enemy, he’d kill it.  A ship, he’d pilot it.  These were his battlegrounds…actual battles and war.  It was the only thing he had ever been good at, but this was a battle he didn’t know how to fight, and if he was being honest…one he didn’t know if he could win.  

After a few moments of silence, Han asked in a normal voice “I wonder what the Rogues will think?”

Marcus lowered and shook his head, he’d been thinking that same question but before he could answer Corran spoke up for the first time since they arrived, “They’ll think we’re innocent until proven guilty, and even Rogue’s stick by each other, in battle and out”.  There was pride in his voice, but Marcus heard just a touch of sadness.  

“That’s right!” Han exclaimed a little too loudly.  Marcus smiled at Han’s enthusiasm.  It was a bright point in an otherwise dreary day so far.  Marcus’ thoughts turned to Corran.  The force was something he didn’t understand, but he had seen, and felt enough evidence to know it was real.  Losing the force, to a Jedi, was probably akin to being blind.  Marcus knew too well that being cut off from a sense was a disturbing experience.  Before the truth about his eyesight was revealed to him, Marcus had gone two weeks where he thought he was blind.  The betrayal of Ranzen not telling them before he arrested them would have stung Corran more then anyone else.  They had fought together side-by-side; bled together, he could see how Corran would want to be alone with his thoughts.  If his thoughts were leading him to the same place Marcus’ were, he wouldn’t be voicing them much.  Marcus had been nursing the idea that perhaps there was a traitor in the Squadron since before the battle.  There were clues leading up to this, Marcus’ droid being tampered with, Sam’s ship as well, the explosion on the Vindicator.  There seemed to be no connective motive though.  “Sabotage the equipment…to get us arrested” Marcus thought.  It didn’t make any sense.  On top of all this, Marcus was also worried that the intelligence reports he sent back on Rogue Squadron might have played a factor.  He was practically glowing in his reviews of the Corran and Han, so he didn’t see how though.  Still, the thought that his “other mission” played a factor in this gnawed at his mind.

A loud buzzer interrupted his thoughts and stirred Sam.  They all approached the force fields and looked towards the far away door, where 6 guards were approaching. The next few moments were humiliating to put it lightly.  Sam, Marcus, and Han were put in force cuffs and led out of the cell block in separate directions.  Marcus found it slightly amusing though that a guard who was now sporting a black eye brought back an extra guard to ‘help’ escort Sam wherever they were going.  Corran was removed from his cell, and one ysalamiri was picked up and carried along with them.  The creature’s ten meter radius keeping Corran in check as he, Marcus, Han, and Sam were unceremoniously led to a sunlit room with four chairs and a long table in it.  

The four of them were un-cuffed and allowed to roam the room.  The ysalamiri was placed just outside the door they noticed as the door was closed.

“Don’t know why we’re here, but it’s nice to see the outside world” Han said.  Corran walked over and glanced out over the cityscape and the never-ending stream of ships snaking there way across the skyways above and below.  Sam was rubbing her wrists from the force cuffs, and took to putting his feet up on the supplied table.  

“So why do you think we’re here?” Han asked the way too silent for his taste room.  Everyone was very solemn, they all felt betrayed and helpless which for people use to getting things done was one of the worst feelings in the world.

“Probably more interrogation” Sam guessed quietly.

“No, probably legal counsel” Corran send turning back from the window.

“Probably” Marcus added agreeing with his CO.

“Sam, are you alright?” Corran asked approaching her.

“I’m fine” Sam’s programmed response kicked in without looking at her brother.  Marcus knew that Sam was uncomfortable in more then a few ways being here.  Besides the upsetting nature of the charges and situation, she was now in close quarters with the three men who cared most about her in the world.  Sam being who she was, Marcus didn’t know how she’d react in this kind of situation, but denial seemed to route she was choosing at the moment.  Marcus never liked denial, only wastes time.  “Come off it Sam, none of us are “fine” here.” Marcus said trying to see if she’d open up.  The cold as steel look he received in return silenced any further questions, and Corran even took the hint and backed away.   

The awkward moment was broken by the door opening, and standing there in his crisp New Republic uniform was Marcus’ old teacher and friend Colonel Troutman.  Marcus had been expecting a lawyer, and seeing Troutman was a pleasant surprise.  Knowing his old friend though, it wouldn’t be all good news, but they’d get a few answers at the very least.

“Marcus, Marcus, Marcus…we have to stop meeting this way, I’m starting to get a rep.” Troutman said referring to the last time they’d seen each other face to face.

“Eh, an old pencil pusher like you needs as much rep as he can get.” Marcus replied back, not missing a beat

The colonel disconnected the video feed with a click of a remote, and the little light on the camera went off.  

Troutman placed a metal briefcase he’d been carrying, and sat down with a sigh.  Marcus cocked his head and raised his eyebrow quizzically.  Troutman was adjusting his seating position when he caught Marcus’ gaze.  “Oh, don’t look at me like that; you’ll make that same noise when you’re my age.”  The four of them sat across from him, and introduced themselves.  Marcus was glancing at Sam’s reaction when Troutman went to shake her hand.  She shook it, and was cordial.  It had been 15 years or so, but Marcus was wondering if she remembered who she stole that shuttle from when she left the academy, so far it seemed like either she didn’t remember or she didn’t want to let on that she did.  

“Just waiting till a colleague gets here, then I can tell you what we know, but until then how bout some food?” Troutman asked pushing the case towards the group.

“Now we’re talking.” Marcus opened up the container to find prison rations and fizzpops for all.  “Cutting back on the budget Colonel?” Corran asked as Marcus dispersed their concentrated meals.  

“Times are tough, what can I say?” Troutman shrugged with a smirk.  

The four of them un-wrapped the food and started to eat.  Even though they were starving, the grimaces among them said what everyone was thinking, “had the food actually got worse in New Republic prisons since their last visit”, but at least it was something.  The group sat mostly in silence as they ate, but as Sam was drinking the last of her fizzpop, Troutman spoke up.  “I do have a question for you Ms. Koortyn, where did that shuttle eventually end up.  We never found out what you did with it, and it’s always nagged me.”

Marcus nearly choked as he heard the question, but loved Sam’s answer “Sold it for scrap on Nar Shadaa.”

Marcus saw the skin on Troutman’s neck go tense, but only for a moment before he replied “I see, interesting”  with as much calm as he could manage.  It looked as though he was going to continue, but there was a knock on the door.  Troutman got up and opened the door.  Standing outside of it was one of the most striking women Marcus had ever seen.  She was wearing a coral colored women’s business suit, her face was made up discreetly, and her auburn hair fell around her shoulders framing her face.  “Hello, I’m Val’kia Navin” she said extending her hand to Marcus.  Marcus shook it and smiled.  “Mr. Antilles, Ms. Koortyn, it’s good to see you again, though I do wish it were under better circumstances.”

Han smiled at the woman.  Sam’s face however was tensed with anger, apparently she’d met Val’kia sometime before, and from her reactions…they did not get along.  As Marcus observed this, he saw Corran rise and embrace the newcomer, and to his surprise the beautiful woman reciprocated.

“Val, it’s good to see you” Corran said warmly.

Her eyes got slightly wider as she returned the embrace, separating, she replied, “You too Corran, but we can catch up later, we need to go over how to keep you four out of Kessel now don’t we.”

“Here here” Marcus and Han chimed in, but Sam stayed quiet.

Over the next hour they all started to tell their version of events.  Val’kia kept careful notes, and asked concise to the point questions.  Marcus admired her work ethic, she seemed tireless.  Marcus was the last to go, and after he’d finished, Val’kia’s pad went away, and she steepled her hands.  “Thank you for your cooperation with this investigation, I cannot make any promises, but I believe that this is a case that can be won.  Mal’fey has managed to turn public opinion against not only you, but he’s managed to imply the entire NR navy in the process.”

“So, we’re the sacrificial lambs to save the navy’s reputation.” Corran surmised

“Essentially” Val’kia admitted, though no one will come out a say it of course.  Though, now that I know how and why the “crimes” happened now, I can go about trying to piece together proof to contradict Mal’Fey’s claims.  

“This is ridiculous; we’re talking about defending ourselves against the largest crime lord in the galaxy, a person for whom the word treason means NOTHING!” Han said getting even angrier now.  Marcus admitted that the situation was entirely insufferable.  The largest organized crime organization had managed to impose in the court of public opinion that 4 of its heros were traitors and murders.  As angry and frustrated as he was, Marcus found himself dumbstruck by the sheer balls it would take to pull something like that off.

“I know this situation must be hard for all of you, but you have to trust us that we are doing everything possible to…” Val’kia began

“Trust you!?”  Sam blurted out.  “We’re in this mess because of you!  I was only on that mission in the first place was to stay out of this place!”  Sam screamed, letting her anger and frustration out on Val’kia.  Marcus perked up at that statement, and his head snapped to glare at Troutman through his goggles.  The old Colonel had uncrossed his legs, and adjusted himself again; Sam had apparently just hit a nerve of some sort, and he was glancing guiltily at Marcus, whose unwavering glare was unnerving.

“Ms. Koortyn, please calm down, I could see how you might interpret our prior dealings as being at fault, but this would have happened no matter where you were in the Galaxy.  Tarsk Mal’fey would have set you up whether you were on the Vjun mission or not.”  Val’kia said calmly.  There were very few people that Sam could not provoke, and Marcus was becoming more and more impressed by this woman, as he was becoming increasingly suspect of his former commander.

Sam relaxed slightly, and Han got up to pace as he did when he was agitated.  “Now, I have some new information from our meeting today, but there is some information that I unfortunately need to reveal today.  The decision revolves around reports that were made during the Vjun mission by a member of Rogue Squadron who was placed in the squadron solely for the purpose of observing its commanding officer and XO.”  As Val’kia said this, Marcus looked at Troutman through his goggles, his eyebrows raised in panic.  He shook his head slightly, as the remaining three hung on Val’kia’s next sentence.  Troutman closed his eyes and looked away, and Marcus could only sit there and wait for the hammer to fall.

“These reports will be crucial in establishing what is essentially going to be a character defense for you.  The NRI has decided to out the agent now, rather then in court where we will ask him to take the stand.”

“Why would you be telling us this…unless he’s in this room?” Corran said as he thought out loud.

“Agent Arete, would you like to answer your CO’s question?” Marcus’ felt like a lead weight had just been deposited in his stomach.  First Ranzen, now him, “They are going to hate me” Marcus thought as he went to stand up…but he never made it to a standing position.   

Han had charged across the room and slammed Marcus into the mirror that lined that wall of the room.  “TRAITOR!”  He screamed as Marcus felt the first blow land across his face.  Blood rushed into his mouth, the warm slightly metallic taste was unmistakable.  Normally Marcus would fight back, but he couldn’t raise a hand to Han, as if letting Han vent all the pain and frustration of the last few hours into his hide could erase the guilt he felt.  Han hit Marcus three more times before anybody else could react.  Sam, Troutman, and Corran managed to pull Han off of Marcus who leaned against the wall for support as he spat blood on the floor and wiped his mouth.  

“You feel better now?” Marcus asked Han, which was greeted with renewed struggles from him.  Corran put his hand on Han’s chest and said calmly “Han, I’m ordering you to stop”.  The look on Han’s face was one of confusion, with every ounce of his moral fiber telling him to pound Marcus until he was unconscious fighting against the need to listen to his CO ground into him through years of military training.  I think the biggest surprise was that Corran wasn’t right there with him.  Han kinda stood there open mouthed, but relaxed, and the other folks let him go.  

Troutman looked around the room and just shook his head, “This is going to be a lot of paperwork.” He said calmly.  

Marcus spit some more blood, and turned to thank Corran for intervening when…*CRACK* Corran’s fist hit Marcus square in the nose, breaking it on contact.  Blood erupted from Marcus’ nostrils as the back of his head cracked the mirror again, and he fell forward onto the floor limp.  

The sudden sound of a blaster pistol echoed through the room, everyone froze where they were.  “Everyone against the wall NOW!” Troutman shouted.  Corran, Han, and Sam did as they were told.  Troutman checked on Marcus, and signaled Val’kia to come and take the blaster.  She did so, and Troutman picked up Marcus, and carried him out the door.  Troutman told the guards waiting outside the soundproof room that they should return the prisoners to their cells.  They would finish the defense preparations later.  

Marcus, his nose mostly healed but still with a bacta patch on it was brought back to his own cell a few hours later, he was no longer sharing with Han, but was next door to him.  The whole rest of the night none of them send a word to Marcus.  Lights out came, and as only the faint green glow of the Ysalamiri packs, Marcus took off his goggles and looked out with him own eyes.  Taking off his goggles was usually very comforting to Marcus, but not this night.  He had betrayed his friends, and now he had none.  The Rogues would abandon him once they found out.  He was going to be truly alone once this was all over.  Not being able to sleep, Marcus stared at the ceiling most of the night.  He got up once to get a drink from the sink mounted on the wall, when he looked into the hallway and saw Sam standing in her cell looking at him.  Marcus approached the force field, and looked across to her, his eyes glowing in the soft light.

“Sam, I’m sorry, I” Marcus started.

“Why?” Sam interrupted.  It wasn’t an urgent question, but very calm and purposeful.

“Sam, it’s a long…” Marcus started

“Why?” Sam said again not wanting an excuse.

Marcus was tired of lying, so he told her the truth.  “You”.  Sam didn’t seem to have a response for that.  “It’s the same reason that I risked my life on Ithor, and pissed off the biggest crime boss in the galaxy, You.”

Sam still remained silent, so Marcus continued, even if she wasn’t going to respond at least she’d know the truth.  “They told me that if I joined Rogue Squadron as a spy, that you and Han wouldn’t go to prison.  I didn’t want to do it, and I didn’t even find anything except two great leaders and pilots.  I know that you’re mad, and Han and Corran probably will never speak to me again, but I hope you can understand why I did it.”  Marcus put his head down and just stood there for a few minutes, and then said “Kind of ironic I guess…I went to Vjun, lost my droid, my arm, my friend, all to keep you out of prison, and look what happens as soon as we get back.  Figures…”  

Sam didn’t say a word for the rest of the night, and Marcus eventually found sleep.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

The Slag Pit,
Corellian Sector,
Nar Shadda

The cantina was dark, gritty and filled with all manner of beings from all ranges of species. It was rumored that the Pit was one of the best places for Bounty Hunters to reside, preferring to keep to themselves and knowing their business dealings would remain on the down-low. A client willing to pay for services of the illegal kind could find more than a dozen willing beings to conduct their dirty work; and it was widely known that there was no immediate danger of local authorities raiding the place - if only because of the cantinas reputation and sheer amount of returning firepower packed into one place. Another attraction of the Pit was anonymity; many beings could simply arrive, find a dark corner and keep to oneself, not being bothered or approached save by the serving droid…

And it was this particular attribute of the Slag Pit that had brought a man who wished to remain invisible through its doors.

Jate Vors slouched comfortably in one of the worn down bantha-hide seats that made up a booth at the far side of the cantina. In one hand he held a chilled lomin ale, while in the other he held firmly to his 'DeathHammer' blaster pistol. The man was no stranger to angry patrons drinking alcohol and having bad tempers, and he didn't want to end up being caught unawares should a blaster fight go down.

"Would you like another, sir?"

Turning his head from the front door, Jate looked to the droid that had approached. He nodded, releasing his glass and fishing for a cred-chip from his jacket pocket. He flipped it onto the table, before resuming his drinking position and reverting his eyes back to the main entrance.

"Oh, and make it a clean glass this time," Jate said, causing the droid to turn its head around on its thin neck servo, as he absently observed the grime that was on one side of the glass lip. "I don't want more than a hang-over tomorrow, ya' know?"

The droid blurted something unrecognizable before continuing back to the bar, weaving with mechanical precision through the crowd and tables.

"You Vance?" Came a voice from the other side of Jate's booth, a deep growling followed.

Jate resisted the reflex to jump and draw his blaster, instead managing to keep his cool and simply turn his head to the arrival. It was the second time he had been caught unawares, and the Corellian didn't like that very fact - maybe he was slipping, losing his touch being away from CorSec?

"Tanner Vance, yeah," Jate said, motioning to the seat opposite him, to which the other being sat. "I assume your F'ussk?"

"Yesss," The Trandosan hissed, giving a pointy-toothed smile, not showing his surprise at the human knowing who he was before introducing himself. "I've come with a job offer, if you're interested…"

Jate feigned a yawn, showing his 'disinterest', despite knowing he needed the credits as much as the next guy. It had taken him a long time to work up his alias as a credible bodyguard and security adviser, and it seemed that renown on Nar Shadda directly influenced the amount of credits you had in your banking accounts.

"That's why I'm here, F'ussk," Jate responded, sitting straighter as the droid returned with his new glass, which was about as clean as the previous one. "I'm guessing you heard word from some of my past clients, and they said I was good for the creds, right?"

It was true enough, given that F'ussk's name had been passed on by one of those same clients, and Jate had been expecting some kind of meet with the Trandoshan.

"They say you offer some of the bessst services they have seen," F'ussk continued, his bulky frame obscuring a portion of Jate's view of the cantina. It made the Corellian narrow his eyes, something not seeming right all of a sudden. "And I need someone who can update my business database security… I want top of the line, slicer-proofing."

Jate scoffed, taking a mouthful of the new lomin ale. "Nothing's slicer-proof, F'ussk, and you're a fool to think otherwise."

The Trandoshan flared, slamming his clawed hands roughly onto the table, causing the near-empty glass to topple. His growl showed he didn't appreciate being made a fool of, but Jate wasn't overly concerned, at least not by the sight of the annoyed lizard in front of him - he could handle the Trandoshan. What really made the Corellian uncomfortable was the two humans who were sitting at the table close by the booth, huddled over fresh glasses of their own…

"As you say, Tanner," F'ussk hissed, his eyes narrowed slits as he chomped his big jaws closed. "But I want it to keep mossst of them out, you understand? I have dealings I don't want to share, and contactsss important to my trade, yes?"

"Understandably," Jate nodded, his instincts telling him something was about to go down. Something involving him. "I guess we have a deal then. I'll update your database security and pass you a bill for man-hours invested… I'll be charging my usual rate, as I'm sure my previous clients have told you about."

The Trandoshan nodded, before standing. "It is agreeable, then," He said in a low tone, before leaning forward and reaching out with one hand, meaning to shake on the deal just made…

And in return, the lizard received the business end of Jate's blaster pistol to the soft, unscaled underside of his jaw joint, before a piercing bolt of sizzling red exploded through the top of his head!

Jate pushed the now-dead Trandoshan away from the table, ducking as a barrage of blaster bolts impacted with the lizard's back and sprayed around the booth walls. Hefting the table forward, the Corellian used the heavy item as a shield, even as he caught a quick view of the two men he had noticed before.

"Take it outside, or I call the guards!" Shouted someone in the background, probably the barman, referring to the local authorities. Either way it was an idle threat, given the cantina itself, and the patrons within - more than likely it was a warning to be done with business quick, or else everyone in the room would end it for them.

Jate leaned around one side of the table, firing a quick few shots in the direction of the two attackers. He noticed other beings rushing out of the immediate line of fire, not wanting to be caught by a stray blaster bolt. In return two blaster rifles spat angrily back at the Corellian, before the thugs pulled back into cover. No doubt they were on the verge of creating a plan, one that would involve getting Jate in a crossfire - something he would do in their position.

The only reason he was breathing right now, was because he had jumped the ambush signal - the handshake - and had caught the other two off-guard. Jate had noticed their side glances and blaster rifles concealed beneath long coats, with the telltale bulges along the thug's sides giving the weaponry away.

Repeating his own attack, Jate leaned out and shot off a series of bolts, before falling back behind cover. And just as he expected, the thugs did the same, leaning over their own table and letting loose with another laser barrage.

When they fell back to cover, Jate moved.

Pushing to his feet and leaping over his table in one fluid motion, the Corellian literally dived toward the nearby up-turned table the thugs were using, impacting with the piece of furniture against his chest, while his arm reached over to fire rapidly into one of the thugs. As a scream of pain drowned out the panic in the cantina, Jate twisted his head and looked over, his blaster pistol aimed squarely at the second thug's forehead… it made the man stop to consider his predicament, and the rest of the patrons knew it was over.

Standing, feeling a sharp pain in his side, Jate walked around the table and came to a stop above the grounded man. He threw his rifle to the side, which Jate promptly kicked away further.

"Talk," Jate stated, his tone indicating he wasn't messing around.

"I ain't tellin' you nothin'–" The thug didn't finish his sentence before two blaster bolts melted through both his kneecaps in quick succession, causing his eyes to bulge and his hands to grip the deep wounds, before he screamed, too.

"I'm going to keep working up your body until I hear what I want to hear," The Corellian said calmly, keeping a weary eye out on the others around who had stopped, watching the scene. Clearly they had expected people to die and for things to be done with, and not a brutal interrogation right in front of them.

The thug, on the other hand, knew Tanner wasn't playing and soon revealed what Jate had expected.

"Paiks sent us," The thug whimpered, trying to ignore the blaster pistol pointed in the general direction of his groin. "He's still annoyed after what you did to him a couple of months ago…"

"Yeah?" Jate sneered, raising an eyebrow. "Well maybe Paiks shouldn't have hired me to rewrite his security encoding for his database, and decide to kill me rather than pay the owed amount… and in future, if you're planning on ambushing someone, don't use the same job for the lure.

"You tell Paiks: If he tries anything like this again, I'll be coming after him."

Putting his blaster into his holster, Jate kicked the thug firmly on the jaw, knocking him unconscious. Stepping over the downed forms, the Corellian made his way to the bar and pulled out a handful of credits, flipping them onto the serving top. "Sorry about the stains…"

"From how I see it, that booth needs more repairs than anything… you only hit the table, kid," The barman retorted, clearly unimpressed but appreciating that Jate at least offered some money for repairs. And true to word, the table the thugs had used was peppered with blaster marks, while the booth was in shambles…

<<"…reaking news! Earlier today members of the New Republic were arrested under claims of treason against the galactic government. Currently the four individuals, who have been revealed as none other than recognized military personnel Han Antilles, Marcus Arete, Samantha Koortyn and Corran Antilles. Most would know these men and women from their service to…">>

Jate looked suddenly at the holo located above the bar, his ears catching a familiar name. On the projection were four faces, including one that was well-known to the young Corellian… he continued to listen.

<<"…currently being held on Coruscant, awaiting trial where they will face a tribunal of judges that will submit a sentence. While immediate details are not fully known, it is believed that more charges will be brought to the courts, possibly including charges of murder. While this network doesn't want to speculate, it is possible that those sentences could include anything from life imprisonment to the death penalty. We repeat, this is breaking news! Earlier today members of the New…">>

Turning from the bar, Jate stalked from the Pit, his left hand clenching into a fist. While the Corellian couldn't talk about the other prisoners, he knew damned well that Corran wouldn't be involved in treason or murder. Something about the news update didn't add up, and unless Jate was seriously mistaken about Antilles, there had to be more to the situation than what was being said.

It needed investigating, especially if Corran faced life on Kessel or even death… and the others being held? Well, they'd just come along for the ride, as Jate unraveled and revealed the truth.

…but, at the same time, Jate only hoped that there was a truth, and that Corran hadn't finally done something to put himself in the Sarlacc.

Besides, I think it's time to get away from Nar Shadda for a while… let things cool down. Without bothering to return to his apartment, knowing it would be watched, he walked straight to the nearest public transport terminal and booked himself a cruiser ticket to Coruscant.


Sometime later, on the public cruiser

Jate hunched over a datapad, ignoring the noise around him in the tight confines of the transport. Beings were packed into the large ship, filling the two rows of seats to near full capacity. It seemed more than a few wanted to leave the moon, and find something better on the gem of the galaxy. Either way, Jate was pouring over any and all information on the arrests, bringing every public announcement to his attention and scouring the information for any inconsistencies, should something be said that wasn't mentioned by others, or embellishments for ratings and the like.

So far it seemed pretty much as he had heard, which meant someone was taking great pains to keep the story straight and factual.

In the time it had taken for the cruiser to go to hyperspace, Jate had thought about his father and Corran, both. The two had worked together in CorSec, with Jate's father being Corran's partner to help the rookie get his feet wet in the field. From what Jate's father had said, Corran had been a trustworthy man, one who was loyal to friends and knew right from wrong. Sure he had a habit of rushing into things, but Jate couldn't believe Corran was a traitor and murderer…

Soon Jate was thinking about Sasha Antilles, Corran's younger sister, and how he had dated her back in their teenage years. The Corellian wondered how Sasha was doing, and what she thought of the arrests.

Closing the datapad down, Jate eased back in his chair and closed his eyes. He had had a long day, and getting some light sleep would help for when he arrived on Coruscant. Though where he was going to go, or how he was going to go about it were a mystery to the man.

He would just have to trust his instincts…

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Hours after the witnessing of their fellow Rogues being arrested– Corran, Han, and Marcus– Flight Officer Mela Roach met with the remaining Rogue Squadron in their conference chamber inside Starfighter Command Headquarters on Coruscant after their transport from the <I>Vindicator</I>. The room was small and plainly furnished– all of its contents were standard military issue, and could have occupied an office on any world where the New Republic had a presence.

Mela felt the oppressive weight of being the next in command on her shoulders and found it generally uncomfortable. She was the next officer to have the most experience of the remaining pilots– now that Marcus, Cal, Cyan, and Saengo were now out of the picture, and with Corran and Han arrested. She let herself relax for a moment, remembering the brief moment when Rogue Squadron was a full and functioning unit with Corran in command before leaving for Vjun. Now, only four pilots stood in front of her– and they were tired, ragged, and worried.

"I guess this means you are now in command, Mela?" Gavin was the first to speak up, as he pulled up the latest news on the holonet of their arrests. "That is if you are next to fall in line."

She nodded her head. "Yes, after Corran, Han, Cal, Cyan, and Marcus, the next chain of command falls on me."

Abiik folded his burly arms and frowned. "That's too bad, <I>alor</I>."

"–you're telling me." She made a note of the thought. Abiik had the look and manner of a warrior, your typical Mandalorian who would consider it bad form to mention that they were mortally wounded and bleeding to death in their boots.

Right now, however, other problems demanded Mela's attention. She opened a file on the desk computer and turned on the holoprojector so that both she and the remaining Rogues could see it.

"I wanted to talk with all of you," she said, "about what has happened to Marcus, Han, Corran, and Commander Samantha Koortyn."

"Wesa all muy muy know whasa happening," Enzo Dan Danga replied. "Wesa all see it."

Mela suppressed a smile hearing from the Gungan. "From what I gathered from Starfighter Command, they all have been charged with treason. Commander Koortyn has been charged with first degree murder."

Abiik's expression didn't change. "That is… not good," he said.

Mela wondered if that masterful piece of understatement meant that he was thinking the same thing that she had thought when she first read the report. If they stood trial, found guilty and were sentenced, it would mark the first time in living memory that any Rogue would serve time in prison. It would destroy the Rogue's reputation forever.

"Not good sums up my reaction as well," she told the group after a moment. "When you read it, you'll see the charges have been brought up by a large company known as Mal'fey Shipping and Trade. The CEO, Tarsk Mal'fey, has submitted a massive amount of evidence that Corran, Han, and Marcus had broken into his corperation and sabotaged their galactic network, which has rendered the company helpless in controlling their daily operations. The sabotage has costed Mal'fey millions of credits in lost revenue and is determined in bringing them to justice. It also shows Commander Koortyn murdering an employee of the same company." She reached over and tapped out the command to transfer a copy of the file to each of the Rogue's personal datapads.

She continued. "I have to tell you, everyone, that I think these charges are absurd and I believe something is brewing that we don't know," she said. "There is no reason why they would commit such an act. I've already submitted a request to conduct an investigation to Starfighter Command; I can do that much on my own, by virtue of my new position as temporary leader of the Rogues."

Mela saw that the remaining Rogues were nodding as she spoke. They were on her side in this, definitely. That was good. She was going to have to push her request through the full chain of command. Under these circumstances, a strong voice on their side would help.

"What about Tyanni?" Gavin asked. "Isn't she royalty or something? Maybe she could have someone high up protest what has happened. A political voice could influence what Mal'fey is doing."

"True," she said, glancing at the only other female pilot. "This would help our cause for sure. For all we know, we have no idea if the NRI is involved in investigating this, or care to. I think it is time Tyanni make contact with her family. They may know powerful friends."

"Yes, ma'am," Tyanni replied.

"I can make contact with Concord Dawn, <I>alor</I>" Abiik spoke up. "They may issue a statement of protest."

"Mesa also speak to the Naboo!" Enzo chimed after the Mandalorian.

"I can contact my mother as well," Gavin stated.

Finally, she gave a slow nod. "Well, its a start. I'll see what I can do, too. I have a couple of people I could put on that job." She paused and added, smiling, "By the way, before we start any of this… take a day or two of your accumulated leave and enjoy what time you have, because once we get this going, I don't think any of us are going to take any time off for quite a while."

"Yes, Captain!" the remaining Rogues saluted. Her new rank felt awkward to hear.

"Dismissed, Rogues."

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

She sat at the farthest corner table of the University of Coruscant Library’s literary reference section.  The large, airy room was quiet thanks to it being the break period between terms.  A much better place to work and gather her thoughts then her office after the wreck of a morning that had begun with the call from Jade Saye, the usually serene and collected woman’s demeanor on the comm was instead tinged with as much confusion and anger as Val herself was feeling as she clicked on the flatscreen of the holonews coverage.  It confirmed what Corran’s companion had just advised her. Full color  livecoverage of the very public arrests of certain members of the Rogues along with Sam Koortyn. It had ended with her meeting with those very same detainees.   

More precisely it had ended with her reading Troutman the riot act in front of the wounded Arete for the way he had handled not only the revelation of Marcus’ status with NRI, but for not informing her of this bit of news prior to the meeting.  Not that she should have been surprised in the least.  If there was one thing she had learned over the course of her years it was that rarely could the brass be trusted to handle things properly, especially where individual’s lives were concerned.  For them it was always about the good of the larger government entity and its ideals and she told him as much before turning away.  Maybe she was being unfair lumping him in with the likes of Phaeden and too many others she’d known in the span of her career.  After all she didn’t really know him, but at the moment that didn’t matter to her.  The fate of good people, her best friend among them, was a higher priority than apologizing to sooth some old war horse’s wounded ego.

She’d stopped by her office briefly to pick up some data card files, ignoring the flashing message indicator on her desk comm as well as the strident tone of the incoming call alert that could be heard non-stop even before she had swiped her key card through to unlock the door.  It was still going off when she’d locked the door behind her. Avoiding the same crowd of reporters who’d assailed her on the way in by taking the turbolift to one of the sublevels and using the tunneltube system that had been built by NRI’s old Imp counterpart when they had been in power.  They had been a secret then and as far as she knew remained that way now.

The labyrinth of passages ran in various directions to important structures in the heart of Coruscant City, the one she was taking surfaced in the unused storage sub-level of the Galactic Museum.  From there it had been just a quick ride up the turbolift, out of one of the Museum’s side doors, across the pleasant esplanade alongside a small artificial lake, and into the entrance of the library.  It’s immediate sense of quiet and peace the first bit of calm she’d felt all day and Val allowed herself the luxury of enjoying to for a few moments as she sat at the table, eyes closed and taking in a few deep breaths before opening her datapad and getting to the matters at hand.

She began by compiling a list of witnesses she would need to interview, including the accused. This time individually, alone and undistracted.  The other members of Rogue Squadron who had been on the Vjun mission as well as the Jedi Master, Ranzen Elara would need to have their statements taken as soon as possible.  Gods if only she had gone on the mission herself as had been originally planned before Phaeden’s interference. Things would be easier.  Or would they?  Instead she may have found herself sitting in a cell of her own along with Corran, Sam, Han, and Marcus.  Then who would they have on the outside working to refute these ridiculous charges and the true reasons why they were even being brought against them?  

And she was firmly convinced that there was something going on, far reaching and bigger than she even wanted to fathom at the moment.  Call it intuition, distrust of Mal’fey and his wide and interesting circle of acquaintances among the elite of Coruscant’s politics and industry,  her own knowledge and experience with how your own employing government could use you to their own purposes then hang you out to dry whenever it suited said purpose. Actually all of these things.  Even if it hadn’t been the life of her oldest friend at stake, along with the other good men and the reluctant warrior woman who’d fought along with them, the reputation of a squadron and the military body that governed it she still would work her ass off to get to the truth.

Looking out of the window she could see the detention cell level from where she sat and thought of the three men and one woman.  Regaining their trust after the events that had transpired, after risking their lives on a mission she had as good as talked them into if not de facto ordering them to take part in was going to be one of the hardest tasks ahead of her.  With a resigned sigh she once again checked over the information she had been able to gather so far and dialed up the comm number she had for Ranzen Elara, leaving a message requesting a meeting with the Jedi Master as soon as possible.  Eager to get his advice and side of the events that took place on Vjun.  Anything that would help the investigation, once something she considered punitive and a ridiculous waste of her time, experience and training now becoming one of the most crucial undertakings of her lengthy career.

She only hoped at the end it would be enough.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

The door to Suite 498A slid open quickly with the brisk whisking sound that permeated all of Coruscant. The big city, the capital, where every thing and every one was in a hurry, especially when entering and exiting. Places to be and things to be doing dictated the frantic pace. Tyanni stared at the grooves through which the bottom of the door slid for a moment, noticing things she wouldn't have a few weeks ago: the small bits of cosmetic chrome that had flaked off and the way the dust on the floor caught the light from the hall. It was smooth and undisturbed, an anomaly in this busy place. No one had been in her home since she left.

That pleased Jelt.

She didn't move and the door whisked shut. Much as she didn't want to enter the lonely residence, the hall outside was almost worse. Traffic flew by the window at the end of the passage, but the walls of the Bela Vistal Tower deadened their noise completely. After another moment she clenched her jaw and keyed the door open again, entering this time, if a little more slowly than the designers of the hydraulics probably anticipated. Her bag was dumped on the bed and she moved to the 'fresher, turning on the water and splashing her face and neck with the cool liquid. A shower would have to wait. Heading back into the main room she poured herself a glass of tap water and sat down at the small table to drink it, purposely turning her back to the expansive window and it's hectic view. The Coruscanti sunset held no appeal for her tonight. Neither did the water. She shoved it across the table and let her head drop into her hands.

When had everything gone wrong? She had been placed on the New Republic's elite starfighter squadron, put under the command of it's heroes. The future had looked bright. And then the catastrophic mission, losing over half of her fellow pilots to enemy lasers and a spiteful Bothan. And here she was, stuck in the middle.

Help the family out, Tyanni. Make us proud, Tyanni. Resolve conflict, be our solution, Tyanni.

She had done a bang-up job so far. A journal entry was desperately needed to sort things out, but she didn't want to dig through that duffle to find it. Instead she got up to find a piece of flimsiplast and sat back down at the table to make a list.

Things To Do

Hmmmm.

Review Information

Before she could make any decisions on who (and how) to approach concerning the plight of her senior officers, she needed to be well informed. Possibly more well informed than just what Captain Roch had given her. She rested her chin in one hand and looked around the room aimlessly…until her eyes found the the computer terminal and it's flashing blue light. Glancing back down at her list, she wrote Check Mail above her first line. Do that, then look over the information. Next…

Speak to the NRI Agent In Charge

That one should be easy. The agent probably wanted to talk to her.

Speak to Grandfather

He would know which of her family's connections would be useful.

Speak to Tarsk Mal'fey

She paused. That would be a risky move. It could make her a target and cause her to end up like the other Rogues, family connections or not. She would have to be very careful what she said, and very careful to not go alone. And even if nothing happened, the remaining Rogues would possibly become suspicious of her. Then she would be of no help. Pursing her lips, she started to cross out the line, then paused. She really did want to speak with the CEO, get his story firsthand…perhaps a social setting would work better. Then she could speak to him almost by happenstance and there would be no mistake on any one's side as to her intentions. Instead of the slash through the words she made a note beneath them to find out what she could about the Bothan's social schedule, and as she did a small smile crept over her lips.

The Bothan may have thought that he was dealing only with fighter pilots and a military bureocracy, who dealt primarily with rules and regulations, but she knew how to play a different game. One did not survive in the world of aristocracy without learning a few word tricks and mind games.

Now more determined, she continued her list. However, when it was done, it did not include contacting Sythis and getting into Corran Antilles' penthouse. And yet those, Jelt thought, were actually the top priority. Sweet little Tyanni, doing everything she could to help her friends…poor girl had no idea what she was up against.

A tone sounded at the door and the mask of the heiress dropped back down over her eyes as she looked up at it. Turning the flimsiplast over, she went quickly to the entry and glanced at the screen that served as a peep hole, then palmed the door open. Agent Hian Nethiiel stood at attention just outside.

"Agent Nethiiel."

"Flight Officer Ventyra. Welcome back to Coruscant."

She nodded as she moved to the side to allow him entrance. "I'm afraid my return has been nothing like I expected." Shutting the door and making sure the privacy field was still on, she turned back around to face him. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

"I and my team have been detailed for your security, Officer Ventyra. I was not far away when I received your call. You said you want the penthouse swept?"

"Yes, for hidden microphones, video feeds, anything. I'm afraid my ease and confidence with this place has been somewhat shaken by the recent events."

He nodded. "I understand. This shouldn't take too long."

"Thank you, Agent." As he opened the bag he was carrying and began his search of the apartment, she sat down at the computer console and began sorting through the fresh mail. Three hours later she had finally updated herself on everything. Most of the messages had been from concerned family and friends, and many had also come from concerned politicians. Her time had been eaten away by carefully composing as many letters as she could explaining the situation, leaving out some things for some people and including them for others, and delicately asking for the help of the more influential. She didn't want some of the senators' involvement to be the spark that rekindled the other debate that had landed her here in the first place. It was more than enough to have this to deal with without that too. Still, she felt that she had accomplished much and at least some pressure from the political and the wealthy would begin to push against the investigation for some truthful answers, especially any that had grudges against Mal'fey Shipping and Trade. Her own family's company had rarely even acknowledged the organization, as Ventyra Industries usually shipped their own products in their own vessels. Tyruis Ventyra's opinion was that if we built ships, why should we pay to use someone else's? So there was little Mal'fey could do against her family's company as far as economics went. Judging from his previous actions, however, the Bothan could not be trusted to play above board. She had warned her grandfather to be extra careful and to be sure to carefully document every move he made.

The tone at her door sounded again and she went quickly to open it. Agent Nethiiel had found the apartment clean of surveillance and spy ware and had left with her list; now he was back.

"Tarsk Mal'fey's social calendar, Officer Ventyra."

"Thank you Agent." She took the datacard he gave her and slid it into her 'pad, glancing over the events carefully. A charity event scheduled for only a few days away caught her eye and she keyed in for more information. The whole thing smelt of a scheme to raise the Bothan's reputation with the upper echelons of society by promoting his good will towards all people, but the important part was that much of Coruscant's upper crust would be there. She pointed it out to Nethiiel.

"Arrange for my inclusion in this event and mark it on my calendar. You will accompany me as a bodyguard."

"Very good, Miss Ventyra." The man was excellent at switching her roles around in his head; she hadn't even needed to remind him that at this event she would be the heiress of the Ventyra industrial empire and not a naval officer of the New Republic. He took the datacard back from her and slid it into a pocket. "Will that be all?"

"Yes…no." Her voice changed subtly and she moved closer to him. "The way things are moving, I'd prefer to have my ship here."

He nodded. "I'll leave it with Rancor." Jelt nodded in return at his referral to their fellow Agent assigned to Coruscant's underworld. The Graystar would be at his main base on one of the planet's sublevels as soon as Nethiiel could get someone to bring it from Metellos. "Also, there was a reply very soon after I sent your message."

"That was fast. Thank you, Agent, that is all." He exited and she turned back to the datapad, keying for the information she had downloaded off the card before handing it back to him. The message was from Sythis, in reply to her update on the situation upon their arrival on Coruscant and the arrests. He had used the encrypt that would alert whoever was watching the transmissions–Nethiiel–that it was for her. If he had missed it it would have continued on into the bottomless pit that all other forgotten messages eventually dropped into. She scanned it quickly. The first part simply acknowledged the receipt of the information and informed her that Sythis himself would soon be arriving on Coruscant as the newly elected senator from Naboo. The rest contained instructions for her to contact Tarsk Mal'fey and inform him that the Sith were aware of all that had transpired and, sharing his goal, wished to assist him in his endeavors. A frown went over her face at this. Of course it would make perfect sense to join forces with Mal'fey; the only issue was how she would get this message to him. Not even Sythis was aware that Tyanni Ventyra and Jelt were the same person, and she would keep it that way as long as possible. The fewer people who knew exactly who was who, the less chance there was of her cover being blown. For now, if Sythis asked, she had delegated some of her responsibility to another hired agent who was on staff with Rogue Squadron. Her cover depended on convincing Tarsk Mal'fey that Tyanni Ventrya was a dedicated member of Rogue Squadron, completely loyal to the New Republic. But if she was to speak to him as an agent of Sythis, she would need her mask, and that was on the Graystar. Her frown deepened. It would have to be a message then. A message she would somehow slip to the Bothan sometime during the charity event without him knowing.

That decided, she moved on to the rest of the information that had come off Nethiiel's datacard: blueprints and schematics of Corran Antilles' penthouse, two floors above her head. This was what she had really been waiting for. After studying the information, she changed into a dark gray bodysuit and pulled what equipment she needed out it it's hiding place, then pulled one of the vents off the airway into her bedchamber. Sliding in, she carefully wormed her way inside and began making her way up two levels. According to Nethiiel, the penthouse was empty at the moment, but Jade Seye could return at any moment. She would have to be careful, not only of that, but the four astromech droids as well. Of course, if everything went as planned, she wouldn't need to even exit these air ducts.

Reaching the top of the shaft, she pulled herself into another duct and made her way to a junction. Knowing that the remaining resident of the penthouse was also force sensitive deterred her from utilizing her greatest asset, but she had fortunately planned for that. Carefully pulling out the small remote drone she had carried up, she made sure all of the probes were in place and then activated it. A feed from it's vid appeared on the screen of her datapad and she quickly guided it down the different  ducts, attaching the probes just inside the vents on the top side of the airways. She would only have an actual video feed in the living room and the office, but most of the rest was at least wired for sound. Guiding the drone back to the junction, she quickly refilled the slots with audio pick-ups and moved up yet another level to the roof. The garden there provided many hiding spots and she moved the grate on one of the rooftop vents enough to allow the drone through. She had wanted to do this inside the penthouse itself, but one of her video feeds had shown two astromech droids in the living room, as if standing guard, and she knew from her information that there were at least two more. Entering there was too risky, but the garden above was empty.

With the last of the spyware safely placed, Jelt shut down the drone and slipped back into her own apartment, concealing the machine and slipping straight out of the dark jumpsuit and into the shower, glad to finally wash off what a shipboard shower couldn't. Both Jelt and Tyanni were tired and needed a good sleep in a comfortable bed, and then tomorrow work could continue. All of the transmissions and messages had been sent, and the surveillance feed from Antilles' penthouse would work it's way through several different scramble points before finally dumping itself in an encrypted file on her personal computer. Everything was well on it's way. She had done all she could do for the present. Tyanni fell asleep quickly.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Jedi Headquarters.  Built by Luke Skywalker as a base of operations for his fledgling New Order, the structure was no match for the earlier, much larger and more elaborate Jedi Temple, which had been razed to the ground during the Galactic Civil War and its aftermath.  The newer, domed structure mimicked the style of the Jedi Academy on Yavin IV.

Jade knew she would find Ranzen Elara here.

After a few polite inquiries inside the headquarters were met with indifference and a distinct unwillingness to help, Jade resorted to expanding her mind, reaching out through the Force, seeking here and there for the presence and location of her target.  Jade knew full well she’d be sensed by every Jedi in the vicinity, including Elara himself, but she didn’t care.  Her link with Corran had been severed, the recent arrests were still without rational explanation as far as she was concerned, and Jade wanted answers.

Several minutes later, the Force Adept found herself in front of a meditation chamber.  Declining to bother with the door chime, she simply opened the door.

Within the chamber, several candles of varying sizes and colors glowed warmly, providing the only illumination.  In their center, a male figure sat cross-legged on a large round cushion, his eyes closed.  He wore Jedi robes, his cowl pulled back to reveal his hair tied in a black topknot.  Statues, presumably of past Jedi heroes, were stationed in alcoves along the walls, which were decorated with woven tapestries of abstract design.

“Ranzen,” she said, breaking the silence, and stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind her.

“Jade.”  The figure did not move.

The woman folded her arms.  This was not going to be easy.  She was tired, and the ups and downs of the last several days were beginning to wear on her.  “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“For what?” Ranzen asked, finally opening his eyes and gazing up at her impassively.

“Everything!  The arrests, the charges, the fact that you knew what was going to happen when we got back from Vjun and didn’t tell anyone.  And you know very well that none of it is true.”

“That remains to be seen,” replied the Jedi.  “The evidence must be weighed, the facts analyzed…”

“Facts?” Jade interrupted, her voice rising.  “What facts?  Corran is innocent.  I can corroborate his side of the story!  Put me in a room with Mal’fey and I’ll tell you whether he’s lying.”

Ranzen’s expression grew terse.  “Your… relationship with the Balancer is inappropriate, and neither of you can be fully trusted, due to your pasts.”

“What do you know of my past?” Jade countered.

“I know from your actions on Vjun and Korriban that the Dark Side lurks within you, just as it does within Corran.  You have never had proper training and that makes you dangerous.”

Jade’s green eyes flashed.  “You have no idea what I’ve been through.  Your ‘Light versus Dark’ ethics are as antiquated as your cultist religion.”  Very subtly, the temperature in the chamber began to rise.  The candles fluttered, remained lit.

“You have no understanding of the ways of the Jedi,” Ranzen replied, rising to his feet in one fluid motion and stepping off the cushion.

Jade’s fists clenched, her knuckles whitening as the nails dug into the flesh of her palms.  “I know all I need to know about it, if you are the end result.”

Ranzen folded his hands into the sleeves of his Jedi robe.  “You do not belong here.  This conversation is over.”

A gust of wind blew through the room seemingly from nowhere, extinguishing every candle at once, causing the tapestries to billow and Jade’s hair to whip about her face as she fought to keep her temper under control in the now dark chamber.  The statues rattled in their bases, threatening to topple.  

Ranzen maintained his equanimity.  “You have proven my point,” he commented drily.

Abruptly, the wind stilled and room became calm again, as if nothing had happened; only the darkness remained.  The door slid open behind Jade, the light from the corridor silhouetting her figure.

“This isn’t over,” she said, and left the chamber.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

As a Jedi Master, he must learn to control emotions and sensations, and better sooner than later. Dealing with Jade was a tasking chore for him as she once again challenged his authority.

It was time to re-create again the ancient Jedi art of self-meditation. Ranzen shut his eyes and tried to remember where he left off. He sensed Jade's feet pounding rapidly down the corridor, her emotions flaring like a open candle.

Already focused deep into the Force, he felt an alarmed presence hurry up the same corridor. As carefully as he listened, he couldn't recognize the individual. Master Skywalker had said fine discernment– even of strangers– would come in time, as he learned the deep silence of self that let a Jedi distinguish others' ripples in the Force.

Ranzen wanted to dismiss it, wanting to meditate some more. He needed to meditate after everything that happened.

And yet, he was still a Jedi, and he had to know what had alarmed that trooper. Cautiously he made his way toward the entrance of his chambers and opened the door. He poked his head out into the long corridor and greeted the trooper. "May I help you?"

The NR trooper came to a halt, surprised. "Master Jedi, I was just about to–"

"Nevermind that, trooper," Ranzen nodded. "You have something for me?"

"Master Elara," insisted the trooper, "Major Val'ka Navin has requested your presence in the main conference chambers. There is a briefing commencing in a few minutes."

"Val'kia Navin?" he inquired. He suddenly recalled the dinner party Corran had hosted before the Vjun mission. "Ah, yes. I do remember now. We've met."

"Well, she is now assigned with you to investigate the Rogue scandal. It was General Phaeden's request after Rieeken contacted him."

The Jedi Master nodded again. "Very well. Advise Agent Navin that I will be there as soon as possible."

***

Large enough to hold a hundred, the New Republic's main conference chamber was almost empty. A service droid slid along the curve of an inner bench, passing by a glowrod and white stone walls. Down near the circular projection table that dominated the chamber's center, near a single aide on duty, Val'kia Navin– the NRI agent who was now assigned to lead the Rogue investigation– stood with General Phaeden and Rieekan. Navin's presence gleamed visibly in her uniform and invisibly through the Force.

They both looked in Ranzen's direction as he entered and smiled. The Jedi smiled halfheartedly as he greeted each of them.

"Master Jedi," General Phaeden spoke up and nodded to Val'kia. "This is Agent Val'kia Navin of the NRI. She will conduct the Rogue investigation with you. Any NRI affairs will be handled through her."

Ranzen's cheek twitched. "Thank you, General. Major Navin and I have met before." He then noted, "I must also add this is a Jedi affair as well. Corran Antilles was once a student of Master Skywalker."

Phaeden nodded, reprimanding the Jedi with his placid stare. "It may be as well, but you well know the Jedi answer to the New Republic." He dismissed the comment with a gesture of his hand. "But that is not the concern here. With help from Major Navin, we secured an invitation from Tarsk Mal'fey to some charity event he is hosting. Once inside, the both of you can investigate more thoroughly about our little Bothan friend. He is online waiting on me right now."

A side console lit, this one a smaller light projection table. Above it appeared a miniature hologram of Tarsk Mal'fey, adorned in the finest robes that a Bothan could afford. "Ah, General Phaeden, a pleasure to meet anyone of the New Republic ranks," he greeted. The fur behind his long ears rippled. "I am glad you have responded to my invitation to our charity event. It will make the event more successful with a representative of the New Republic."

General Phaeden smirked behind his half-shaven beard. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Mal'fey. But unfortunately, I won't be able to attend the occasion due to unforseen events. Instead–" he gestured to Val'kia and Ranzen "– Major Val'kia Navin, who is on my staff, and the Jedi, Master Ranzen Elara, will be attending in my presence. I hope this does not disappoint you."

"Val'kia Navin and a Jedi?" the Bothan murmured, clearly concerned. Ranzen could sense it through the Force. "But of course not. It would make the event more popular with the Jedi attending."

Val'kia stepped in and leaned toward the screen. "Excellent to hear, Mr. Mal'fey. I look forward to meeting you in person, finally."

"And I as well." Ranzen touched the Major's shoulder. "The Jedi Academy is most honored to be invited to your event."

"As am I," Mal'fey's voice projected clearly. Crossing his arms over his chest, he grinned nervously. "Now if you excuse me, I have many affairs to attend to. I will see the both of you soon enough." The image faded.

"Evidently Mal'fey didn't anticipate this course of action, especially with a Jedi attending his party," Ranzen's voice sounded disdainful. "I sensed a fresh rush of uneasiness through him and especially something elusive."

"Then that is why we need to attend that charity event of his," Val'kia added in a brighter tone. "I already dug up as much as I can on him for now. That is why I need you to pry some more, Master Elara."

The Jedi Master planted his hands in the vicinity of his lower torso. "By all means, Major Navin. He should be easy to sense through the Force, although Bothans are quite deceitful in their manner."

General Phaeden studied the Jedi's expression. "Just make sure you are subtle. I don't want Mal'fey becoming too suspicious that we're onto him," he said quietly, "but I will make sure Major Navin understands the severity of this case."

"I already do know, General," Val'kia pointed out.

General Rieekan crossed his arms over the front of his gray uniform. "If that is the case, then this meeting is adjourned. There is much to do," he squared his shoulders. "Major Navin, you are dismissed. Master Elara, may the Force be with you."

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

If Yara Hawke knew anything, she knew this: Tarsk Mal'fey was a cunning Vigo but a lousy drunk. A fearless leader, too, because the Bothan commanded Black Sun with a mixture of bribery, threats and– at times– downright brilliance.

"Blast that General Phaeden!" Tarsk threw back another goblet of nectar wine, burped loudly, then waited, snorting like a ronto through his large nostrils, as his servant, a blue-skinned Twil'ek, refilled his glass from a tall, cut-glass decanter. Satisfied, Tarsk gave the blue alien a backhanded wave that sent the female scuttling. Tarsk took another huge swallow. "He dare sends Navin and a Jedi to my party? Does he think this is a game?!"

Yara didn't reply. Anyway, the Bothan was just talking. She was used to Mal'fey's moods, which became particularly foul when he was cooped up in a situation the way he was now.

"I'll tell you when this is a game," Tarsk said, florid from too much nectar wine and festering rage. "And this is not the time!"

"I'm sure the general has his reasons," she said diplomatically.

"Pfah!" Tarsk inhaled wine, rippled his fur at the sweet taste, swallowed. "The worst of it is I know Navin will drill me with questions while that Jedi tries to sense me if I am lying! Bah! I'm a CEO of my own galactic trade company!" he said, thumping his furry chest with his bunched left fist. "And the Vigo of Black Sun, not some old, toothless rancor!"

"Of course you're not," said Yara. "But until the New Republic…"

"Kark the New Republic!" Tarsk bellowed. Wine sloshed over the rim, drizzling across his furred fingers in watery blue. "Kark them <I>all!</i>"

"If anyone has more right to act on the New Republic's little NRI agent, it's you. After all, how far could she pry?"

Tarsk sucked nectar wine from his clawed thumb. "She couldn't if she was <I>dead</I>."

"That may be true, my Vigo, but you know that would just incite the New Republic to pry even further. Besides"– Yara took up a napkin from the table, folded it into a neat square and offered it to the Vigo to clean himself– "didn't you just mention you had a conversation with a fellow business tycoon whose love betrayed him until you disclosed she is quite alive and well."

At that, the Bothan suddenly remained silent. The air became quite still and, for a moment, all Yara heard was the <I>beep-beep-blap</I> of various control circuits on Mal'fey's conference table. Tarsk's glass had been halfway to his mouth, but now he lowered it and his eyes narrowed to dark, glittery slits. "Of course… Daiman Sirana."

Yara squared her shoulders. "Perhaps you need to show Val'kia Navin the error of her ways when she deserted him, my Vigo."

Tarsk's head swiveled, his eyes lingering long enough to make her wonder about her words, and then back at his desk at the far corner of the room. "I think you are onto something, my dear Yara. I think I have a plan. This may work."

She nodded. "It is the only way to get Val'kia Navin out of the picture without your name being brought up."

"Yes, Navin out of the picture indeed!" repeated Tarsk, his tone thoughtful. "We need to get Sirana and Navin together." Then, his lips lifted from his canine teeth in a slow, sly smlie. His fur rippled. "We need to plan this perfectly, Yara." The Bothan threw his head back in a loud cackle. "Perfect indeed! Sirana will be grateful and she will be out of my fur!"

The Bothan suddenly hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then let out a little grunt. "But still leaves that karking Jedi, Ranzen Elara."

"No matter!" Tarsk threw back nectar wine and brought the goblet down on the table. "<I>Here</I> is what we will do, my dearest Yara! Let them attend my charity event. You will be in disguise to attend the same event as another guest and… You're getting this?"

Yara was already scribbling madly on her small datapad she kept tucked in her breast pocket for just such an occasion. "Absolutely."

"You will carry a small holocam and take as many pictures of Val'kia Navin and that Jedi as you can." Tarsk rose from his table, put his furry hands on his hips, nodded once. "You will then store them on a holovid disc and rendezvous with Daiman Sirana. Have him look at the evidence and explain our situation with him. Knowing his obession with this woman, he will help us plan out a trap for Navin which should clear us from any suspicion. Yes, Yara. That should do it."

She cleared her throat. "And again, what of the Jedi? He might be a threat to our plans."

That was as far as she got. In the blink of an eye, Tarsk's face soured and his fur rippled again in the opposite direction. "<I>I</I> will worry about the Jedi and how we get rid of him. Are we <I>clear</I> on this?"

"Yes, we are, my Vigo. I was just concerned."

Tarsk made an impatient gesture, then walked to his desk. "I have other resources. If I recall, I think a certain Sith Lord owes me a favor for delivering Corran Antilles to him. Remember Darth Sivan arrived to take him off my hands?"

Okay, Yara was impressed. "So you plan to contact the Sith?"

Tarsk pulled out a drawer, from which he extracted a holovid disc. He then offered it to Yara to take. "I will take care of that problem. You will go ahead and do your part. Here is the disc to record the evidence."

"As your wish, my Vigo." The Bothan watched as the woman tucked the disc into her sleeve, bowed and hurried out.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Coruscant,
Public Landing Bay 277

The transport had pulled into the considerably sized docking bay at a slow pace, the hulking ship being piloted by some pretty decent men or women, what with near a thousand souls on board; Jate could well imagine the pressure of not crashing into the docking platform, resulting in a fiery, explosion-filled death of many. Yet, it seemed the pilots were used to their jobs, and there wasn't even the faintest hint of collision against the docking pads as the transport came to a stop. The transport crew began giving orders, organizing the passengers into line by sending them to various exits and ramps that would take them out onto the planet proper.

Jate carried his one travel bag over a shoulder, standing behind a rather tall Wookiee that seemed to have reached the limits of its patience with the slow docking process. The hairy alien grumbled and growled, before finally pushing the creature in front of it with a big paw - this resulted in several aliens and beings stumbling forward with cries of alarm and surprise.

"Hey, knock it off," Jate said, narrowing his eyes as he looked up at the Wook. "Everyone's going to get out as soon as they can."

The larger being turned, snarling at the human who thought best to tell it what to do, but the attention from the crew giving directions made the hairy oaf think twice about taking things further. The security on the transport was pretty good, and they generally had means of restraining mostly any passenger should the need arise - and who wanted to be caught even longer on the ship, especially when the landing platform was a banther throw away?

After what seemed a small lifetime, it was finally Jate's turn to pass through the boarding gate of the transport. He stepped out into the (relatively) fresh air, taking a brief moment to savor the feeling of being unconstrained, before he joined the masses shuffling toward the check-in port. The Wookiee even seemed to be in better spirits, now that it was free, but it still looked over at Jate every so often, scowling… or at least that's what Jate assumed from its annoyed expression.

It didn't matter.

Taking out his identification card, which was labeled as one Tanner Vance, the ex-CorSec agent began the next wait, as the passengers all took position in long lines to be allowed entry into the city planet beyond. For a fleeting moment, Jate wondered if it was even worth coming to rescue Corran, given the amount of time he spent in lines; he wouldn't be surprised if his old acquaintance had already served his sentence by the time Jate got there… yet, with a smirk to himself, Jate took another step forward, before stopping.

It was going to be a long morning.

***

Some two hours later, Jate walked purposefully through a series of alleyways and dark corridors. He had organized for a contact to meet him at a nearby safe-house that he kept, just in case he had to hide; given his status as being wanted, though unofficially by parties unknown, Jate had set up more than one dingy apartment to serve his purposes - this was just another one that could be dropped at a moments notice, should his contact prove to be untrustworthy.

Coming to a pause, Jate looked up at the address and nodded to himself. He cast a glance to either side, keeping his head from moving in an attempt to look less suspicious than he already was, he pushed through the dirt-covered door and began walking up the stairs. This building, being in what could be considered the edge of the 'slums', had very little in terms of luxuries. Residents had to use stairs, had a limited supply of water to the premises, and most assumed that any stranger was a potential thief scoping the place out. So Jate wasn't surprised when multiple doorways opened slightly, eyes peered out at his passing, and then slammed behind him. He even guessed there were more than half a dozen blasters prepared to fire at him, too.

Reaching his room, which he had gained through helping the landlord with a pesky gang problem in the area, Jate unlocked the door with an old keycard and stepped into the darkness as silently as possible. He paused a moment, letting his eyes adjust, before he reached up to the ventilation duct on the left-side wall and pried it open - within was a blaster and single ammunition pack. Slapping the pack into place, Jate began searching through the rooms, taking each one with a flurry of quick movement as he ducked into each doorway in turn.

It often paid to be too careful, rather than be caught short.

When he was satisfied he was alone, and following a quick sweep for listening devices or holo-monitoring equipment, Jate eased back in one of the two couches in the living room. The window was clean, and allowed the young man a good view of the street, which had been half the reason he had picked the rooms location, and with a sigh he prepared for the wait…

With any luck, Jate thought to himself, still holding the blaster firmly in hand, with it resting on his thigh. This contact won't be too long, and then I can look at helping Corran…

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

Schenk watched the human male as he entered the dilapidated building complex. Through the pair of compact but powerful macro-binoculars he held the Weequay mercenary had a clear view of the man. He was young for a human, no more than perhaps 30 standard years. He dressed in nondescript spacer clothing that made him almost invisible in this part of coruscant and moved with a casual alertness that marked him out as a professional. Schenk glanced at his wrist chrono then he settled in. Stretching out on the cold ferrocrete roof of the abandoned building that was his perch. He silently observed the area surrounding the building for the next thirty minutes.

Satisfied that the human was alone, Schenk got up. His muscles stiff from lying still on the cold surface. He made his way down the the exit and moved across several glide walks to the same level as the building. The area was rough and run down, populated by a diverse mix of species. Poorly paid workers and petty crooks rubbed shoulders in the evening gloom. Schenk wore a long poncho over his typical spacer garb and kept his hand resting on the heavy blaster pistol it concealed.

Since his dismissal from Black Sun several months ago Schenk had taken steps to protect himself. Schenk had been a loose end and he had known too much, in his time with the organisation he had access to the highest levels of intelligence and gained knowledge of several of their operations. Mal'fey was a cold and devious son of a Sith, but he was thorough and he did not forget. They had come for him a month ago, three of them, in the night. Men he had fought with and lead. Schenk still bore the scar on his face.

He did not know who this barve was. All he knew was that the man had made contact with one of the local fixers who Schenk under his new alias 'Brek' was acquainted with and had asked to be put in contact with someone who knew the local 'landscape'. Schenk might not have the resources he had enjoyed during his time with Black Sun but he still knew which stones the snakes hid under. This job seemed easy enough and the money on offer was good. He needed the creds. The new I.Ds and fingerprint and retinal reconfiguration surgery as well as the facial reconfiguration had cleaned him out. Soon though he would have enough and then he would be gone.

He had reached the building now. He had'nt seen anything untoward on his walk in to the target. If anything had made him suspicious he would have just kept on walking past, took the maintenance elevator down two levels, crossed the glidewalk, walked through the mall, out a side door and dropped down another level to the place where he had stashed his speeder. This could be a trap, there could be a Black Sun hit squad waiting inside. A sniper could be counting his wrinkles right now. But everything appeared fine and he had no choice. Schenk took the stairs up to the apartment and knocked twice on the door.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

The guards didn’t bother to take off the binders as they pushed Corran into his cell. They had cuffed him, acting on Troutman’s orders obviously, as they brought Sam, Han and him from the interrogation room back to the detention area. Maybe the Colonel thought that Corran would attack all guards now, because of what he had done to Arete’s nose. But Corran had no intention to worsen his situation. After all the guards were just doing their job. Even when the applied methods with the binders started to remind him of the Empire. Maybe it was just a question of time, or maybe of too much power, before a government started to act like that. Or perhaps it was a specialty of the intelligence apparatus. Corran would to have asking Val about it. But the guards weren’t to blame.

But Marcus Arete on the other hand… Corran couldn’t remember a betrayal of such dimension.  If he had known about it, had sensed the treason, Corran wouldn’t have carried the wounded Marcus, rescuing him from Vjun. <i>Ah, Frak!</i> he throught. <i>I still would have. </i> Everything else would have been against his own nature.

Corran shifted on his bunk bed, trying to sit more comfortable. His shoulder joints started to ache from the position the binders were forcing him to sit. Corran tried to move his hands a little to stimulate the blood circulation.  It just hurt more. Corran winced his face. With the Force it would be that easy to suppress the pain. But there were his four little <i>new friends</i>, just in front of his cell, preventing it. One Ysalamiri alone was able to create a Force bubble with a radius of ten meters. A group of the critters could extend the size.  Corran hoped that the range was large enough to have an effect on Ranzen too, if he was in the building.  The thought was only a small satisfaction. Not as big as the sound of Marcus’ nose breaking.

They had brought the traitor to his cell as well some hours later. Around the same time as the guards finally removed Corran’s binders as they gave out some food for dinner. Corran rubbed his shoulders, staring at the bowl with Likryt stew. He was wondering if Arete had been in the ward all the time. Or maybe he had been in another briefing with Troutman and Ranzen.

The Jedi Master had never liked Corran from the beginning. Since the very first moment they met at the academy on Yavin. Ranzen just had worked with Corran because of Master Skywalker, who was certain that the Corellian was no Sith. So maybe Ranzen just pretended to follow the orders of the Jedi Grand Master. Corran wasn’t really surprised by Ranzen’s behaviour.  More disappointed about himself, that he didn’t sense the true plans of the Jedi.

The same applied for Marcus. Corran felt the anger rising again. Why didn’t he see that something had been wrong with that guy? He had trusted the words of Cal and Cyan about Arete. And yes, he had been a good soldier… until he showed his true face. It was almost ridiculous that Corran had thought the biggest problem with Arete would have been that he was trying to woo Sam, which pissed off Han.

Corran could hear Sam and Marcus from their cells as they spoke in low voices. He couldn’t understand what they were talking about. Just as little as he was able to sense anybody of them in the Force. Corran took a deep breath, trying not to hate the Ysalamiris for their ability. But he realised how much he had relied on his Force skills over the years. Now it was time to recall on his <i>normal</i> Human senses. Who knew how long he had to stay here, if Val and Jade wouldn’t find evidence for the truth.

Laying down on the bunk, Corran stared at the grey ceiling of his cell. The sleep didn’t come easy.

***  

“Captain Antilles, wake up.”

The voice of the guard startled Corran almost. Not sensing people before hearing them was still an issue. He rubbed his face, feeling the stubbles at his chin as he got up from the bunk slowly. The deficit of sleep made him feel leaden. “What’s the problem?” he asked, wondering if they would allow him to shower and shave. Or even change his clothes.

“You have a visitor. Please step closer, then turn around, hands behind you.” The guard took some binders off his belt. Corran sighed. “Is that necessary, Corporal?” The younger officer nodded. “I’m sorry, Sir. Order from Colonel Troutman.” With an annoyed look on his face Corran turned around, hearing the clicking sound of the binders.

They didn’t tell him, who was waiting for him, as the guards led them through the hallways. The ever-present Ysalamiri carried by one of them, made it impossible for Corran to find out anything. He knew that he didn’t need to ask. If they wanted to answer, they would have told him already.

So he had to wait until they led him into the visitation area. Corran had expected Val, but it was Jade who stood behind the force field, that was separating the room. “Jade!” Corran moved quickly to the energy barrier. He smiled the first time since they landed on Coruscant.  “It’s so good to see you.”

Jade gasped as the Ysalamiri were near enough to affect her as well. She looked a little dizzy for a moment as the animals blocked her Force senses. Taking some deep breaths she managed to speak. “Now that explains why I couldn’t sense you anymore.” Her smile was weak. Corran could tell that she had gotten as less sleep as himself. He wished to embrace her. Even without their bonding Corran knew that she thought the same.

She looked appalled as she saw that he was cuffed. “Is that how the Republic treats their prisoners?” Corran shook his head, then shrugged. “I couldn’t control myself yesterday and broke Marcus’ nose.” Jade’s green eyes widened. “Corran! But he’s your friend.” Corran’s own face darkened. “Not any longer. He spied on us. The NRI sent him to observe if we are the bad guys.”

Without the Ysalamiri Jade’s anger would have been tangible in the room. “What is wrong with them? Don’t they have real enemies to fight?” She embraced herself with her arms. “I also tried to talk to Ranzen. He is not co-operative.” Corran rolled his eyes. “I didn’t expect him to be.”

Jade sighed, locking her eyes with Corran’s. “But what can we do now to get you out of here?”  She hesitated a small moment. “I miss you.” Her words made him smile again. “I miss you too, Jade. Terribly. And our biggest chance of getting us out of here is Val. If she doesn’t find out, that the so-called evidence is forged, nobody will.” He moved as close as possible to the energy barrier whispering.

“Jade, I need you to do me a favour. Call my grandparents on Corellia. Whistler will tell you their com-number. My grandfather knows the best lawyers on the planet. Maybe we’ll need one.”

Update from Yavin IV...

Yavin IV

Jedi Temple


A duet of humming blades, and blaster bolts echoed through out the vast chamber on the very top floor of the Jedi Temple as various training remotes zoomed around the heads of the students there. Each were wearing helmets with blacked out visors to block their sense of sight. This was a class with two goals: Learning to trust the Force, and perfecting the art of blaster deflection with a light saber. Like it was for the past six years or so the class was full of students with different skills levels in the Force. Some had been there years while others had come only months ago. The teacher had arranged the students in the class a little differently than in years past, and put the pupils all in the center of the room. Since they were lucky enough to have a space large enough where an almost ‘theatre in the round’ was possible the instructor thought it best to use it to her advantage. This way, with students evenly placed out in the space, she could circle around watching everyone’s progress much easier than if they had been in rows front to back. And, of course the young woman was not only watching with her eyes…

Pulling the sides of her dark brown robes together the woman watched and listened to the movements of her students. Some were easily progressing while others clearly struggled with the techniques. A sentiment began to seep back into her mind as she watched and searched them out with the Force, for only a little over a year ago she had been there in their boots. It was odd to be a teacher in the Academy so soon after her Knighthood, but it was only temporary. She was one of the 'fill-ins' for Jedi Masters Skywalker, and Elara, which of course was no easy task. Though there was no room to doubt ones self in such a position she knew she could not fully replace all of the experience, or knowledge of the two. No matter, the Masters had to have seen some level of understanding and knowledge in the twenty-one year old, and that gave her the confidence she needed. Ralana was never one to back down from a task given to her, nor did she do things half-heartedly. In fact she had been making an attempt to play the part of teacher more and more by wearing the more traditional garbs of the Jedi Order, a slight deviation of her typical mission garments. It was an outside sign of her dedication while at the same time meant to remind herself that now she was going to be an example to those around her. Alone, Ralana wasn’t sure she could be much of one, but with the Force at her side the woman could do anything it asked.

Her blue eyes flashed back to the students as she felt a ripple in the Force coming from the opposite side of the group. Turning around on her heels the woman’s brown leather boots tapped against the floor of the audience chamber as she moved towards the source of the disturbance. One of the students was becoming very frustrated with his remote. She had noticed it earlier, but decided to observe a little longer knowing that some lessons ought to be learned on ones own. But the boy’s anger was rising, and it was causing him to act out. Reaching the fourteen-year old, Ralana had noticed the students around him already shifting further away as they could sense his irregular movements, and his overly large swings. The remote spun around him while firing a quick series of blasts that hit the bottoms of his feet. As the boy ‘danced’ a series of very creative curses erupted from his mouth before he attempted to swing his training saber at the remote itself.

“Abel…you must control your emotions.”

The boy only half listened to Ralana’s comment as he tightened the grip on his blade, and raising it high into the air. The move left him completely open to the floating balls mercy as it blasted twice more, sending out two bolts that landed square in his chest. Yelping out in pain from the stunning sting Abel stumbled backwards.

“Abel, stop.” Ralana saw now from the movements of the remote he had put the settings at a much higher level than he should be attempting for. His anger was rising and this time he went to swing wildly at the remote fully intent on slicing it in half. Stretching out her right hand, Ralana called upon the Force turning the attack mode off on the remote before calling the machine to her. Even as the metal object floated to the woman Abel did not stop his attack as he tried to get in one last shot. But, when he sensed that his professor had the remote in her hand the boy stopped, disengaging the saber in his hand. She could easily tell the teenager was still fuming as ripples of hatred towards the training device echoed out from his form. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’m challenging myself.”

“You’re being foolish.”

Abel was silent for a moment before ripping off his helmet. The Jedi’s last words made him even more upset, and he toyed with the thought of chucking the helmet across the room. Instead he stood there panting heavily, “I can do better.”

“Yes, but that takes time, practice, and lots of patience.” Ralana motioned for him to step away from the group as most of them stopped with their practice sensing the commotion that was going on. Really the woman didn’t want to make him more embarrassed, or use him as an example, but this was a lesson they all needed to learn. “You have to pace yourself, I know some of the steps may seem tedious but they are necessary. A light saber is a very elegant weapon-“

“Mistress Ralana I know.”

“Then you should also know that we don’t chop wood with it.” Perhaps the scolding on his form was little harsh, but his movements were rash. “You have a powerful wield of the weapon, but you still have to find its grace. Reach out with the Force, and not your emotions. It will center you and you’ll tap into its flow.” The woman paused watching the boy just turn his gaze to the floor. “You’re already on your way to doing it Abel, it just takes time. No one learns this overnight.” Switching the levels on the training remote to a more suitable range Ralana turned it on again as the ball zoomed back into the air. “Do you want to try again?”

Abel looked up at her and then the remote before nodding, “Yes…I’m sorry.”

She gave him a small smile before nodding, “Good, then you can continue.”

Just as Ralana was about to observe the boy again another one of the Jedi Knights, Cindi entered the room. She was in fact of the girls that Ralana had studied with at the temple though she was usually followed closely by another. The blonde haired human woman approached the other before bowing low, “Mistress Ralana, you are needed immediately in the communications tower.”

The raven haired woman blinked slightly surprised, but then nodded, “I see.” She turned to the students again, “I’m afraid I’ll have to end class early today…”

One the way to the communications tower Cindi explained that Master Elara had called the temple asking to speak with Ralana. Now, the woman wished she had more time to gather her thoughts. She was Master Elara’s main contact right now at the temple, and so the main point of his call would be clear: he wanted a report of the goings on at the Temple. But this didn’t mean she was disappointed he called when in fact it was quite the opposite. It had been a while since they heard from the Jedi Master, and after all the news reports following the events at Vjun everyone was curious as to what really went on there, and now the current events on Coruscant. GNN reported that three members of Rogue Squadron, and an associate were charged with treason. If that wasn’t disturbing enough the fact that one of them was Corran, a former member of the academy, along with the death of two other Jedi’s deepened the blow. Then of course there were more personal reasons for Ralana wanting to make sure both Elara and her friend Corran were alright.

Ralana let her own concerns and worries seep back into the depths of her mind as they entered the main communications room. After running a quick hand through her hair the woman stepped into the holocamera's range of vision, so that her image would be transported to Master Elara. Bowing low she greeted the blue outline of the Jedi, “Master Elara, it is good to see you. Welcome back from the mission.”

“Thank you Ralana, I am sorry I was unable to contact you sooner, but there has been much going on since I’ve arrived back on Coruscant.”

She rose, “I’ve heard. So, the news reports are true then?”

“Some of them, yes. Corran, Han Antilles, Marcus Arete, and Samantha Koortyn have all been arrested for treason against the New Republic. I am working with the NRI on the investigation into the charges.”

Ralana found it a bit odd that the Jedi wasn’t being more open about how there was clearly something behind these charges, or how the whole situation was a set up, and she hoped that the expression wasn’t too clear on the holo cam. But, apparently it was…

“Something wrong?”

The woman sighed, “You don’t actually think there is any validity to any of this do you?”

“I hope there isn’t, but a Jedi must consider all options. You know this.”

“Yes, Master…but I still-“ She paused. “I really hope that none of it is true.” She really just couldn’t believe it. Corran was not only a former classmate of hers, but an old friend. Believing some of the heroes of the republic could commit such an act was saddening.

“As do I.” He took a moments pause to collect his thoughts before continuing, “I would like you to inform Master Anaro that I will be soon sending the Jedi Temple a full report, and that I will be attending a charity ball being held by Tarsk Mal’ Fey.”

“The CEO?” Ralana had only head the name mentioned in passing, but knew little about the Bothan himself.

Master Elara nodded, “Yes, of Mal’ Fey shipping.” He paused noting the raised brow on the young woman’s face. A small smile appeared on his lips, “My attendance has to do with the investigation it’s not for personal leisure. I will explain the situation more clearly in my report.”

 “I wouldn’t think any different Master…” As she spoke a subtle smirk toyed on the edges of her lips, but it left just as fast it came.

“I’d hope not.” The man paused again as the next part of his update was of a more solemn nature. “Also, Master Skywalker is preparing to leave for the academy. He is escorting the bodies of Geo Bak’e, and Split Infinity…”

Ralana took a breath nodding, “We all felt their deaths…” Her voice trailed saddened again by the thought of losing two members of the Jedi Order when they needed them most. “I will consult with Master Anaro and then start preparing for the funeral ceremonies.”

“That sounds good.” Master Elara paused thinking over the oddity of his words, “How are things at the academy?”

“Very good, we have received five new students who are all doing very well. And two apprentices have started their trials. To be honest, Master Elara, the majority of us were more concerned about the Jedi away from the temple including Skywalker, and yourself. The darkside seems to be echoing across the galaxy.”

“Master Skywalker, and I have sensed it too. We must all be wary, but never fearful.”

“Yes, Master.” Ralana took a breath before studying the projected image of Ranzen before posing another question herself. “How are you doing? After all this…have you gotten rest?” The man did seem a bit distraught, or maybe he was more saddened, Ralana couldn’t tell. Prying into Master Elara’s feelings even through the Force was not an easy task. The man kept them in check, and was well guarded.

A weak smile appeared across his lips, “As well as I can be, thank you.” He avoided the question about him getting rest and instead moved on, “And you? None of the students have driven you mad have they?”

She smirked, “No Master, they’ve been well behaved…for the most part. Though I must admit I will be relieved when Master Luke, and then you return.”

“Oh?”

She bit her lip, “I worry-“

Master Elara held up a hand to stop her, “Don’t…from what I hear you, and Master Anaro are doing a wonderful job.”

A wider smile appeared across her lips before giving the man a slight bow, “Thank you, Master.”

“It’s the truth there is no need to thank me. Now, if there is nothing else I should get going. You will hear from me again soon.”

“I look forward to it. May the Force be with you Master Elara.”

“And with you Ralana…”

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

There were two distinct knocks on the door, which was a good sign - it meant the being at the entrance was following the established protocol. But that didn't mean anything, not until Jate could meet the contact and ask some questions. Blaster in hand, the ex-agent walked silently to the door of the apartment, before stepping to one side, unlocking it and then opening it. Jate's blaster was also placed firmly against the wood, around chest height for a standard being's height, at full power - if anything happened, he would start firing.

At the moment, he still had the protection of the wall against his body, which was far more reliable than the carved door.

"You're late," Jate said, keeping to the script he had organized with his contact's agent. "Come in and keep your hands in plain sight. If you've been followed, now's a good time to mention it, before I pull any triggers."

Stepping back, keeping his body out of direct line of the door, Jate allowed room for the being to pass. He caught sight of a Weequay, which was also a good sign, since he had been informed of his contact's species. That meant if anyone wanted to double-cross him, they had taken the first step toward going to a lot of effort.

"Living room is through the hallway, straight to the end," Jate said, keeping his blaster by his side as he closed the door and locked it again. He began following his guest, wondering if the Weequay would know Jate's alias, Tanner Vance.

"Hope the city wasn't too hard to navigate," Jate said simply, smiling as he motioned to one of the two chairs available for sitting. He took the one closest to the wall, away from the window. "I heard it can be a nightmare at this time of day…"

Now, the Weequay would reply with his answer, and depending on what he said determined if Jate opened fire. The ex-agent's blaster rested easily on his thigh, as he waited patiently, prepared for the worse case scenario - he already had several ideas of his potential escape route, but didn't want to jump the proverbial blaster…

Not just yet.

If he doesn't say 'Not at all, just busy traffic lanes today. Can't control that, no matter how advanced the city is', then he's a dead being…

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

<B>The Mal'fey Citadel
Galactic City, Coruscant</b>

The CEO of Mal'fey Shipping and Trade, Tarsk Mal'fey, arrived to the level the charity ball was to take event in his private turbolift. As he exited and approached the main entrance of the ballroom, he could not help but feel a certain amount of pride in a job well done. In the short time available, the Rogues were now disbanded and their leaders would soon no longer be a threat to Black Sun. To add, the prying eyes of that NRI agent would soon be out of the way, along with her pesky Jedi companion. Then, with all his enemies swept away, he would make a pact with the new senator of Naboo to divide the galaxy among them.

A steady stream of shuttles and vehicles came and went at the landing pads, dropping off prominent politicians, high-ranking New Republic officers, prominent off-worlders resident on Coruscant, and representatives of the planet's most prominent families and most important business interests. Security would be unobtrusive but omnipresent. The dress-uniformed agents standing guard at the entrance would not be so crass as to demand identification of the arriving guests, but no one who lacked an invitation would be admitted to the festivities. Those invitations were as individualized and personal as an ID card and a great deal harder to forge.

Tarsk made his way to the grand reception hall, accompanied by his bodyguard Rawn, the Barabel. At one end of the high-ceilinged room, a chamber orchestra played pieces of music from various worlds. Behind a long table at the other end of the hall, and at smaller tables placed at intervals along both sides, caterers in formal dress stood ready to serve the guests with food and drink.

Yara Hawke stood in vibrant contrast to the somber Bothan. She'd chosen to wear formal garb tonight, a long, full-skirted gown of rich black silkskin and a sash pinned at her shoulder with an amber brooch– which hid a tiny holocam inside it. She had done something to her blond hair– Tarsk couldn't tell what– that emphasized the elegant lines of her neck. Dressed so, she looked very much like a countess from some other world, and very little like a battle-tested assassin for Black Sun. Her gown's long sleeves and full skirts would be hiding not soft flesh but firm muscle, and her grace of movement was a fighter's grace. She made small talk with a throng of guests, who were waiting their turn for a minute or two of talk with the event's guest of honor.

When Yara saw her employer, she gave him a smile of genuine recognition and not mere praticed politeness, then turned, still smiling, to their guests.

"Dear guests, you really must meet the Bothan who helped plan so much of this evening," she announced. "May I present Tarsk Mal'fey, CEO of Mal'fey Shipping and Trade."

The guests exchanged handshakes and salutes and Tarsk nodded. "Thank you kindly for attending," he looked to Yara, "but please forgive me. I need to speak to my assistant in private." The guests nodded and quietly dispersed.

"I assume everything is ready?" Tarsk said. His voice was low-pitched so that no one could listen at a distance.

"All is ready, my Vigo," Yara replied. "As soon as I see her, I will get to work. Which will be soon… I see her now in the distance entering." She gave him another smile.

Tarsk looked around the vast reception hall and added, "Do not underestimate the Jedi that is going to be with her. He will sense any kind of disturbance or any heightened emotion. Keep yourself in control at all times."

"Of course, Vigo," Yara said. "Just keep in mind to have her distracted at all times." The blond woman quietly stepped away and subtly blended with another throng of guests.

Tarsk wasn't certain what he'd expected, as far as meeting her for the second time from his last fundraiser. He remembered her fondness for wearing civilian clothing of plain color and conservative cut on those rare occasions when she wasn't in uniform, but they did nothing to convey her undeniable presence. He wondered if she would be sharply dressed once again.

Val'kia Navin had chose to wear an evening gown that night– making it the first time that many of the guests at the ballroom had seen her out of uniform. The plain robes the Jedi Master wore next to her made an effective contrast to the richness of her outfit. Of course, the Bothan could see the bulk of his lightsaber tucked under his garments.

The Bothan murmured to himself, "Showtime, my lady…"

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

"The Mal'fey Citadel, miss."

Tyanni looked up at the voice that had come over the comm. "Thank you driver." A quick glance out the transparisteel confirmed this; the lights of the enormous building filled the window. Still, it would be some time before they could land. She turned her attention back to the screen in front of her. Columns of information scrolled by slowly, but none pleased her. The odds of being allowed to post bail on her superiors seemed completely non-existent. She keyed the display off and settled back in her seat with a frown as the shuttle began to slowly descend. It was a good thing, she mused, that she had been brought up attending gatherings such as this, for otherwise she would not have been conditioned to bring a smile to her face. There really wasn't much to smile about this evening at all.

As she exited the shuttle she glanced over at Flight Officer Roch, managing to cover up her resentment at the last moment. The least the pilot could have done was offer some semblance of conversation on the way over, but no. She had sat stiff and straight in her seat and not said a word for the entire trip. Not only did I loan her one of my gowns, I gave up the possibility of a handsome escort to get her into this party! Nethiiel had been smart enough to inquire to her grandfather first about invitations to the party and found that he had been given two. Unfortunately he had been unable to attend, and therefore had been eager that his granddaughter go in his place as representing Ventyra Industries. Of course, even if I had the option of bringing an escort, I don't know anyone suitable on this planet. The thought did nothing to comfort her or slow her resentment. Still, she was careful to let none of this show on her face or in her voice.

They moved down the expansive red carpet that led from the landing platform to the grand entrance, and she noticed with satisfaction that while many of the platforms were permanent balconies, a few were like her own platform, temporarily attached and built by Ventyra Industries. Then they were through the doors and into the glittering assemblage. A raised hand beckoned Nethiiel from his unobtrusive watchfulness to her side. "Locate Agent Navin for me. I wish to speak with her before we leave tonight." Nethiiel nodded and stepped back to his post, just one more formally dressed bodyguard amid the many moving among the elite. Now she scanned the crowd for the host, but failed to see him. At any rate, etiquette would require that she were brought to him by a third party, or vice versus. And of course walking up and demanding your friend's release from charges was simply out of the question. She turned to the woman beside her. "I'm going to the refresher for a moment. Feel free to mingle. Nethiiel, please stay with Officer Roch." And keep her from starting any fist fights.

The agent bowed and she left them, moving slowly through the crowd in the general direction of the 'freshers until she was out of their sight, then angled toward a corridor that she had previously selected when examining the plans to the building. The crowd was far thinner here, as these rooms were set aside for those needing some fresh air and space from people, and possibly some privacy to readjust pesky formal wear. As such, security feeds did not cover every inch of space, and Jelt slipped into a previously selected room with ease. This room led through two atriums to a more private refresher than those directly off the ballroom, and she utilized it quickly, slipping out of the light colored evening gown and reversing it to the black side before putting it back on. Then she let down her hair and reshaped the hairpiece she had been wearing before clipping it back on. That would be good enough. Moving back out to the doorway, she waited until one of the security detail walked by and stopped him, putting that hauty command in her voice that characterized attendees of this event.

"Deliver this to Tarsk Mal'fey. No one else, it goes directly to him, understand?" The man looked from the datacard she held out in one hand to the credit chit she held in the other and finally took both. "This is very important, Mr. Gyan," she said, glancing at his small name badge. "If this does not reach the Vigo, I shall know." The guard stood a little straighter at this. "Of course, Miss…" She smiled. "He will know who this is from. Go." He went. She watched him for a moment, then slipped back to the 'fresher and became Tyanni again. Sythis' message was delivered, and the rest of her night could be devoted to playing the heiress.

She had barely rejoined her party when Nethiiel signaled her that the Bothan was approaching them. He was easy enough to spot, moving through the crowd with a regality that befitted the host, accompanied by an elegant woman. His aid, most likely. "Miss Yara Hawke," Nethiiel whispered in her ear. "One of your station should not know about her activities." She nodded and turned to greet them with a smile. Miss Hawke spoke first.

"Miss Ventyra, may I present Tarsk Mal'fey. Mr. Mal'fey, this is Tyanni Ventyra, granddaughter of Tyruis Ventyra of Ventyra Industries." She made no mention of Tyanni's position in Rogue squadron, though she no doubt knew about it.

"Miss Ventyra, a pleasure." The Bothan's voice was gravelly and she was certain that he knew all about her position as well. Still, there was nothing to do but play her part. She brought her fingers to her jaw and nodded in proper high-class Teyri fashion.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Mal'fey. And may I present Flight Officer Mela Roch of the New Republic Navy's Rogue Squadron."

The Bothan turned to the pilot beside her and for the first time Tyanni felt a twinge of uncertainty in her decision to invite the woman along. She did not have the training of the socialites in the room and emotion showed plainly on her face. Annoyance at Tyanni, anger at Mal'fey. But then, to her credit and Tyanni's surprise, she nodded stiffly at the Bothan's greeting. "Mr. Mal'fey."

Mal'fey regarded her for a moment, then turned back to Tyanni and began to say something when Miss Hawke quietly cleared her throat. He turned to her and took the data card she held out, concealing it quickly, but Jelt saw enough to know that her message had made it to its destination. Tyanni correctly ignored the interruption.

"Mr. Mal'fey, I was hoping I could speak to you about the recent events that have led to the unjust imprisonment of mine and Officer Roch's superiors."

The Bothan's fur rippled ever so slightly. "Ah, yes, Miss Ventyra, that is to be expected. However, you see I have many guests to attend to tonight. Perhaps I shall find my way back around to you later this evening."

"Of course sir. We would not think of intruding upon your time." She nodded to him again. "And I wish to thank you for your generous invitation on behalf of my grandfather. He sends his regrets and wishes for a excellent event."

Tyanni could practically feel Roch seething beside her as the Bothan moved on to his other guests. "So that's it? That's all we do, after we went to all this trouble of coming?"

The heiress smiled. "No, that is not all we do. That is all I expected from Mal'fey, of course, though I may speak to him again later. But our main agenda here is to rally more to our cause."

"And how do we do that?"

"We mingle. Tell our story. With luck, a few of these business men will sympathize. Think you can handle that?"

Roch shot her a look that was pure scorn. Tyanni smiled back beatifically. All in all, this evening was off to a wonderful start.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

He could handle the fact that he had been unjustly imprisoned for 5 years. He could handle the fact that everyone he knew and trusted now wanted him dead. He could handle the copious amounts of bounties on his head, the pain in his right shoulder, the thousands upon thousands of stolen credits in his account… hell, he could even handle the fact that his ship had been impounded and undoubtedly reduced to a pile of scrap. What Sison could not handle, however, was having to resort to public transportation. It was like being eight years old again. Ever since his escape from prison, he had travelled across five different planets searching over two dozen impounds and junkyards looking for his ship, the Lucky Pazaak. By now, he had probably spent enough credits searching for the damned ship to just have gone out and bought another one, but him and the Pazaak had gone through too much together. Buying another ship was never an option.
   
Sison was currently sandwiched between a large trandoshan and a disturbingly odorous bothan. He felt fortunate to have other problems to worry about, the least of which being that the bothan, who had fallen asleep several hours earlier, had now begun to drool on himself. Sison silently promised himself a deep bath and spa treatment upon arrival on Coruscant.

   ‘If I ever get there…’ he mused to himself.

Suddenly, something stung Sison in the pit of his stomach. He recalled his last trip to Coruscant by public shuttle: a crash that killed 1,317 people, along with his own two parents. Sison hadn’t ridden by any kind of galactic transit since then. The grating voice of the ship’s AI attendant chimed in over the general chatter and obnoxious snoring to Sison’s side. The sudden noise roused the bothan and he adjusted himself, wiping the mess from his chin with the back of his hand. Sison couldn’t help but gag slightly.

   “Attention Passengers: Estimated arrival on the surface of Coruscant in 11 minutes. Please take this moment to take care of all luggage and baggage. File towards the nearest exits and await descent. We thank you for choosing Galactic Airways and wish you a prosperous stay in the Coruscant districts.”

   'Blah, blah, blah…'

The automated messages here were worse than the ones back home. At least on Nar Shaddaa the voice recordings were all done by beautiful women with angelic voices. This particular ship’s attendant was a high-pitched calamari with a pour East Moenian accent. The surrounding passengers rose from their seats and began scrambling around the cabin, gathering their luggage and belongings. The two passengers on either side of Sison were now gone, and he decided to take the opportunity to stretch out his limbs and wait for the crowd to dissipate before he left. He did so and sat back down in his chair, taking out a small red ball from the bag below his chair. He had wasted enough hours bouncing it against things to know to utilize its talents now. The back of the seats seemed to serve as a perfect surface as he thudded the ball back and forth against the backrest. Suddenly, the figure seated in the chair suddenly spun around to face him.

   “Stop it.” He growled, clearly past his point of patience. Sison cracked a grin at the miffed zabrak in front of him, catching the red ball squarely in the palm of his hand.

   “It’s a free galaxy, chief.” Sison replied, resuming the bounce of his ball. The zabrak’s eyes grew fierce and he slowly rose over his chair.

   “Don’t make me ask you twice, human.” Oh, great.  A racist. Just what he needed. Some of the surrounding passengers suddenly grew aware of the spectacle in front of them and stopped to observe.

   “Or what?” Sison stared directly into the zabrak’s eyes, not faltering in the bouncing of his ball against his seat. The zabrak lashed out violently smacking the ball to the side of the cabin. Sison chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Pick it up.” The zabrak folded his arms, his face full of absolute hatred. Sison let out a great sigh, as if the zabrak was the biggest inconvenience in the world. At the time being, this wasn’t so far off from the truth. With great patience, Sison rose from his seat and leaned in closer to the zabrak. “I asked you kindly. Pick. It. Up.”

   “Or what?” The zabrak queried mockingly. He was really working to get under Sison’s skin. An easy feat, but dangerous none the less. Especially considering all of the pent up frustration from enduring his trandoshan and bothan neighbors on the flight over. If it was a fight the zabrak wanted, it was a fight he would get. Sison’s new vantage point from a standing position gave him absolute reign to analyze his opponent from close-up.

   Sison went over the mental assessment quickly in his head: ‘Easily 227 lbs, 6 feet 2 inches, athletically built, repeating blaster pistol tucked on his right hip, slight hump on his right forearm signaling a hidden blade. Stance? Weight is on the left foot, tension in the shoulders. Threat: Minimal. Action: Encouragable.’

   The zabrak made the first move, using his grip on the top of the seat to launch his horned head forwards towards Sison’s chest. This was to be expected, however, given his stance and general posture. Sison sidestepped to the left, raising his right knee towards where he hoped the zabrak’s face would be. He quickly found that his assumption was correct. His knee connected with the target’s nose causing him to lose his grip on the chair. Sison moved out of the way as his body slumped limply over the back of the seat. A human seated next to the zabrak had begun to get involved at this point. He tried to clamor over his chair into Sison’s aisle but was cut short by the massive bout of turbulence that overtook the shuttle in that moment. It felt as though the ship was jerked onto its side. Several of the unbuckled passengers, including Sison and his opponents were thrown violently towards the side of the cabin.

Sheer panic and calamity erupted throughout the ship as the passengers shouted for their lives and tried to hold on to something. Sison was thrown across the floor of the ship, the back of his hand colliding with the steel bar of one of the benches as he slid by. He winced in pain and swung out his other hand, desperately hoping to find something to stop his momentum. In the same few seconds, Sison caught onto the framed edge of one of the seats and the lights went out. They were slowly replaced by red auxiliary lights throughout the entirety of the cabin. Sison grabbed the seat with his injured hand, trying to hold on as tight as he could despite the pain. He could hardly believe this was happening again.

‘Was once not enough…?’

Almost as fast as it started, it was over. The shuttle leveled out and the lights returned to their normal state. The passengers were all clearly shocked and bewildered, but they all regained themselves and began gathering their things once more. Sison breathed a huge sigh of relief. With the lights on, he could finally see the back of his hand.He found an inch-wide red bar stamped on the back of it signaling the beginning of a large bruise. The unwelcomed voice of the ship’s AI resounded throughout the cabin like before.

“Attention Passengers: We apologize for this inconvenience. The captain is unclear of the cause of the turbulence, but medical personnel will be welcoming you at the station to address any and all injuries. Please continue to proceed to the exits as we continue to dock.” Sison couldn’t help but laugh at the programmed calmness of the automated attendant.

He hadn’t even touched down on Coruscant and he already wanted to leave.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

'Not at all, just busy traffic lanes today. Can't control that, no matter how advanced the city is' Schenk replied, giving the agreed upon response to the humans security question. The human seemed to relax just a little after that, a small bit of tension went out of his shoulders and his finger eased off the trigger of the blaster pistol he had resting on his thigh but he made no move to put it away.

'So what do I call you?' He asked.

'Brek', Schenk replied, Staring back at him until he obliged and offered up his name.

'Vance, Tanner Vance.' It was undoubtedly an aliase but Schenk nodded in acknowledgement.

'What exactly is it you want mister Vance? Our mutual friend was none to specific.'

'I have some people I'm interested in. I need someone with contacts here who can help me find out more about them.'

'I have a few connections I might able to use. Who are these people?' Schenk asked. Finding people was'nt his usual line of work but then it should'nt be to hard. If they were smugglers, merc, Bounty Hunters or crims of any kind then Schenk could probably get a line on them. The underworld was one big gossip factory. There was no honour amongst thieves and no disgression either. Money talked and people talked back.

'They are New Republic Naval personnel being held for treason.'

Schenk frowned.'Thats a little bit above my pay grade I don't do politics.'

'They're innocent and being set up.' Vance replied, his voice level and his eyes smouldering. 'Someone dirty is trying to frame them and I need to know who and why.' Schenk thought for a moment. He knew about the Rogue squadron arrests. It was big news the whole planet knew about it, probably half the galaxy. There was alot of media attention and that meant alot of heat. Republic intelligence would be involved, the military and even the Jedi. This was a big deal and a recipe for big trouble he did'nt need. But what he did need was creds. He looked up and Vance was watching him closely.

'This is'nt exactly my usual line of work, but I think I know some people who can help. I can take you to them if you want.'

'Now.' Vance replied. He stood up and motioned to the door with his blaster pistol. Schenk glanced at Vance then the pistol, shrugged and got to his feet. This human did'nt trust him an inch and Schenk did'nt blame him. The Weequay mercenary made it a point never to trust anyone. But he hoped that Mr Vance was'nt going to insist on pointing a blaster at him for the entire length of their association. Each had as much to lose as the other and it was just bad manners and Schenk did'nt like bad manners. But for now he would play ball. He headed to the door with the human keeping two steps behind him, carefully out of striking distance of any surprise attack or attempt to swipe his weapon.

Time for a drink. Schenk thought with a smirk.

Re: Treason: A Rogue Squadron Tale

The presence of the ysalamiri around Corran had proven to Jade that she relied more on the Force than she’d imagined over the years, even before she had met him – or rather, encountered him again.  She pondered whether or not he remembered their first meeting, when he’d been much younger, but realized that he certainly would now, due to their bond.  She wondered what he thought about her not aging since that time.  She also wondered about the increasing surety she felt, that she was finally aging now.

When she entered Corran’s apartment, Jade was assailed by three droids chattering at her, in that distinct astromech language she didn’t understand.  The third one – Sam’s light blue one – had been less vocal, but had extended a rather dangerous looking circular saw and activated it.  “Calm down, please,” she said, resisting the urge to push them back.  They worried about their masters after all.  “I’m sure you’ve all jacked in and read the news.  If any of you has evidence to convince the authorities that the accusations are baseless, I will be happy to take you back with me.”  

That said, Jade wasn’t sure a droid’s testimony was allowed in cases like this.  She’d been out of the loop for a while, making it a point to avoid altercations with law enforcement.  But all three droids seemed to respond positively, backing up and allowing her access into the living room, and Frak retracted his saw.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling.  “Whistler,” she addressed the shinier green and white astromech, “Corran wants me to contact his grandparents, and said you could help me?”

The droid responded positively, and Jade realized he had a display on his dome that was translating his beeps and whistles.  “Good,” she replied, and followed Whistler as he turned around and rolled toward Corran’s office.

Once there, the droid displayed the information needed to contact Ronan and Chiara Antilles.  Jade took a deep breath and entered the information into the comm unit.  She hadn’t met or even spoken to them before; she hoped this would go well.

The connection was accepted immediately and an elderly woman appeared on the screen.  Without warning, she launched into a tirade.  “Corran!  We’ve been trying to reach you.  What in hell have you gotten yourself into?  And your sister!  We saw–”  At this point she realized she wasn’t speaking to Corran.  “Who are you?” she demanded.  “Where is my grandson?”

Jade could see that the woman was very strong willed despite her age.  She smiled as though she had not just been hit with a wall of sound and kept her composure.  “My name is Jade Seye,” she replied.  “I’m a friend of Corran.  Are you Chiara Antilles?”

At the word friend the woman’s eyes narrowed perceptibly.  “I am Mrs. Antilles.”

To her credit, Jade’s expression never faltered.  She knew the woman was understandably concerned for Corran, and cautious of strange people contacting her from his apartment.  “I want you to know, first, that he and his sister, along with the others involved, are innocent of treason.”  She left out the part about Sam’s apparent cold blooded murder.  “Corran asked me to contact you to see if you or Mr. Antilles could find someone to represent them and prove they are not guilty.”

Chiara pondered this, then turned her gaze to Jade again.  “And Samantha?  She is innocent too?”

Jade did pause then.  “I am not sure, Mrs. Antilles.  But I know there must be an explanation for what she did.”

Another figure joined the woman on the screen.  “Woman, lay off the poor child,” the other half of the couple said as he sat down.  Jade couldn’t help but grin at this; she was older than both of them combined.  But Chiara Antilles was quite formidable nevertheless.

“Call me Ronan,” he said with a wink.  “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can get the best Corellia has to offer, Jade.”

“Of course we can,” his wife retorted to him.  “There was no question about that.”  She turned her attention to Jade again.  “We will be in touch.  I assume we can reach you at your current location?” she drawled, her right eyebrow climbing.

“Yes, Mrs. Antilles.”

“Call her Chiara,” Ronan replied and was rewarded with a sharp look from his wife.  He grinned at Jade, winked again, and disconnected.