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Part Twenty-Seven

Posted on Monday, 10 January 2000

Sharl pulled Gianna through the rapidly closing blast doors then helped her younger sister through. Suddenly over the blaster fire she heard a scream and she looked back to see Lizzi on the ground clutching her leg. Wills also heard this, and Sharl saw an expression of fear flicker on his face that was replaced by one of determination, before he turned back.

That was all she could see, because the doors had closed.

"Oh no," Sharl whispered.

"Where's Wills and Lizzi?" cried Gianna frantically. "We've got to go back for them!"

The smuggler glanced around and took in the situation. The Cozino was a hundred meters away. Nearer to them and getting closer by the second were two stormtroopers. Sharl knew that the number of stormtroopers was going to increase and their chances of escape decrease if they were to stay much longer.

"We can't do anything for them," said Myra, her voice harsh though her eyes expressed something totally different. "We've got one chance to get off this rock and we have to take it."

"What?! We're going to leave them?"

"We have no choice Gianna, if you want to live," said Sharl sharply, drawing her blaster. "Or do you want to be an idealistic Rebel idiot and die right here and not accomplish anything?"

Sharl pulled Gianna roughly towards the ship. The younger girl squeaked as she realised Sharl was getting closer to the stormtroopers guarding the Cozino, and showed no signs of slowing. At the last moment before the stormtroopers opened fire, Sharl, dragging Gianna, and Myra swerved to the side. The stormtroopers were caught off-guard, perhaps having delusions of grandeur and expecting their targets to run away from them rather than the opposite. They stopped shooting and hesitated for one fatal second, giving Sharl the chance to dispassionately dispatch the two Imperials to the afterlife. Gianna, having never witnessed death in all of her life, was frozen with shock at this action.

"You - you shot them! They're dead!" she screamed. She continued screaming at the top of her lungs until Sharl slapped her across the face.

"Get a grip, kid!" yelled Sharl, grabbing Gianna's hand and running towards her ship. Myra followed behind, taking potshots at the group of stormtroopers that boiled out of the doors towards them. The three of them scrambled up the ramp and Myra whacked the close and lock controls. A few stray blaster bolts hit the wall inside the ship until the ramp cut them off.

"Don't worry - blaster bolts can't pierce the hull," Sharl reassured Gianna who was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. The girl didn't hear her and as soon as Sharl let go of her wrist, slid down to the deck where she stood. Sharl restrained herself from swearing at Gianna and dashed to the cockpit.

"Don't start worrying until they get a blaster cannon up here," said Myra as she brushed past Gianna and into the co-pilot's chair. "Or they dispatch a squadron of TIE's."

"Don't even think about that," muttered Sharl as she keyed for startup. "Lucky we left the ship on standby. We'll be out of her in a sec. How's Gianna?"

Myra turned in her seat to look at the girl curled up in a fetal position on the floor. "Unhurt, but she may be in shock or something. Gianna!" yelled Myra. The Omwat girl didn't respond but kept crying.

"It's shock," said Sharl. "Myra, strap Gianna in and keep an eye on her. I'll be okay up here."

"You sure?" Myra asked her elder sister.

"Of course, have you ever known me to be otherwise? Get moving!"

Myra got out of her chair and bent down to take one of Gianna's arms and literally carry her to the cabin. Sharl ignored them and pulled on the levers. The Cozino gracefully lifted off the platform, causing stormtroopers to scramble away to avoid being caught in the ship's fiery exhaust, and was soon screaming for open space.

"Looks like we made a clean escape," Sharl said to herself, but she immediately regretted tempting fate with that remark as six ships appeared on her screen. Very small and very fast ships, and Sharl didn't need the Cozino to get an identification of them to prove that it was two squadrons of TIE's.

"Great, this just gets better and better. Myra, we have six TIE's on our butts, get to the quads!" Sharl yelled into the intercom.

In the cabin, Myra had her hands full. No matter what she did, she was unable to get Gianna to calm down. The girl looked pitiful with tears streaming down her face which was contorted in an expression of unimaginable pain that was not physical. However, Myra could feel her sympathy dripping away as Gianna screamed and struggled, and when she heard Sharl's order to man the guns she was almost ready to pull out her blaster and stun the girl. In the end, she forcefully put Gianna in the cabin's bunk to sleep, then ran out, locked the door and dashed for the dorsal quad laser battery.

She arrived not a moment too soon, for as soon as she strapped in and activated the guns the ship was already rocked by a laser blast from the nearest TIE fighter. The characteristic screaming of the Imperial starfighters set Myra's teeth on edge, and she wanted to blast all the TIE's into oblivion, if just to stop the noise.

"Myra, what the hell are you doing?" yelled Sharl as she pulled hard to starboard to avoid another shot.

"Killing Imps," snapped Myra as she pulled the trigger. The TIE's however were built for speed and maneuverability and dodged the shot easily. Myra's second shot was just as wasted, but her third, more through luck than skill, gave the lead TIE a glancing blow on the left solar panel. Though the TIE's had the advantage in speed and agility, these were only gained through sacrificing the capacity to generate shields and so the TIE exploded in a satisfactorily huge ball of fire.

"Good shot, Myra," complimented Sharl."

"Yeah, just five more to go, maybe more if the commander down there decides to launch another squad."

"Don't be so pessimistic, please," whined Sharl, all of her attention being on flying the ship away from the TIE's and away from the Nicira and its gravitational field to make the jump to hyperspace.

Suddenly a red light flashed and an alarm was heard. "Now what?" growled Sharl through gritted teeth. She glanced at the diagnostics and groaned. "As if things weren't bad enough. Of all times to have a problem in the nav computer!" Sharl gingerly took her eyes away from the window and one hand from the controls to check the navicomp. After typing a few commands she swore.

"Error? What the hell?! Myra, get down here!"

"You have got to be joking!" retorted Myra as another TIE burst into flames. "Woo hoo!"

"I mean it, Myra, get down here! I can control the guns from the cockpit."

"You can't hit a Hutt at ten meters from the cockpit!"

"We have a problem here! I need you to fix it!"

Sharl quickly turned the volume down on the ship's intercom as Myra burst out into a flood of various profanities. It didn't help as Myra was swearing her head off all the way to the cockpit.

"What is the kriffing problem?" Myra shouted.

"It's the navicomp," answered Sharl, wincing as another blast hit near the cockpit. "Looks like a programming error."

Myra muttered under her breath and sat down in front of the navigational computer and ran a diagnostic. After several tense seconds Myra bit out a particularly vicious Huttese insult at the computer and said, "I can't fix it. I don't know what to do with sensitive stuff like a navicomp. If I make a mistake we could end up flying through a star, or taking the Final Leap."

With a sinking feeling Sharl realised that unless the programming error could be fixed, they couldn't escape from Nicira.

"Try Myra!"

Myra threw up her hands and more to make it look like she was doing something than out of any real hope of accomplishing anything, ran to the belly of the ship with a box of tools. "Try to hold those TIE's off as long as possible!"

"Yeah, no problem. Why not ask me to fly through an asteroid belt at full speed while you're at it, huh?" muttered Sharl to herself. She winced again as the shields took the full impact of a blast.

Myra clambered through the innards of the Cozino to the section that was part of the navigational system. When she arrived, she lay on her belly and looked around with a hydrospanner in her hand for something to fix.

She found something to fix. A small scaly rodent was sitting comfortably in a nest it had made for itself out of various tangled wires and circuit boards and had just begun to make a meal of a particularly brightly coloured cable. It looked very much like the critter that had attacked Myra on her walk through the Niciran jungle.

"Oh no you don't," whispered Myra and she quietly crept forward, only to be rocked by a hit from one of the four remaining TIE's.

"Myra, I'm going to lose a deflector shield! Hurry it up!" screamed Sharl.

The younger Lukas sister clenched her teeth and reached for the rodent. Too intent on its meal to see her or able to hear her over the sounds of battle outside, the little beast made no attempt at escape until Myra had it in her hand.

"How the hell did you get in here - ow!" said Myra as the thing sank its teeth into her fingers. Angered by this action, Myra threw the animal onto the deck and slammed her hydrospanner into its head. Wiping the blood off her fingers she turned her attention to fixing the mess. It didn't take too long to untangle the wires and put them back where they had been pulled out of their sockets, and the wire the little pest had started to eat had been protected by its sheath and so was still functioning. As soon as this was finished Myra crawled out of the hatch backwards, then ran for the cockpit.

"Better now?" asked Sharl, guiding the ship through a dizzying corkscrew move.

Myra activated the navicomp.

ERROR.

Myra whacked the screen and yelled.

"I guess not," said Sharl. Outside, another TIE finally blew up. "Hey, I hit him."

Her sister didn't congratulate her, but rather dashed back into the ship in search of Lizzi and Wills' droids. She found them right where they had been ordered to stay, by the ship's entrance to the cargo hold.

"You - Modal, or whatever Wills calls you," snapped Myra to the closest droid. "Come with me to the cockpit."

The little droid dutifully obeyed, trundling along as fast as his three wheels could carry him. When they got to the cockpit, Myra plugged him into the navicomputer. "I want you to talk to the navicomp. Find out what's wrong and fix it. I'll get back to the quads," she said to Sharl.

"We don't have much time left. I can't dodge them forever."

Myra didn't bother to answer but went back to the gun well. With a human mind back in control of the ship's firepower, and thus able to target more accurately than the cockpit's computer, the TIE's soon found themselves dodging as well as shooting. A third TIE exploded and the Imperial pilots became more wary of their target.

Thinking she was now alone in the cockpit, Sharl gave over all of her attention to the situation at hand, oblivious to everything else.

"There's a program error, Miss Lukas," said a flat voice.

Sharl jumped, then turned to look at the R2 droid. R2 units couldn't speak Basic, but she soon found the reason for Modal's ability - the voice scrambler Wills had attached to allow Modal to masquerade as the droid GT-4DO was still attached.

"Well, fix it!" she told the droid.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I can't program a navigational computer, though if you give me time I can learn to do so."

"We don't have the time!" shouted Sharl. Sweat was dripping down her forehead. Not many people - except fellow pilots who had experienced combat piloting - realised just how tiring a prolonged spacefight could be. Adrenaline did help, but it was still exhausting.

Suddenly an idea hit Sharl. She slammed the ship's intercom. "Myra! Get Gianna up here!"

"What?"

"Modal can't fix the program error. Gianna might be able to."

"Gianna's incapacitated at the moment. She's not able to think of the two times table, let alone programming."

"We don't have any options left! Get her!"

Myra's feet and mouth were getting very tired as she ran swearing all the way to Gianna's cabin. She found Gianna lying listlessly on the bunk, violet eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Get up, we need your help," called Myra, shaking Gianna's arm.

The violet eyes didn't see her.

"Please get up," begged Myra. Muffled booms could be heard and every now and again the whole ship shook as the TIE's improved their accuracy.

"Rear deflectors gone," reported Sharl over the ship's speaker.

At this announcement, Myra began to get desperate. "Get up! Get up! Please, Gianna, I'm begging you!" She tugged helplessly on Gianna's dirty white sleeve.

Gianna didn't move.

"Get up now or we're all going to die!" screamed Myra.

A particularly big blast shook the ship violently and Myra stumbled and fell across Gianna.

"Please," whispered Myra. "We can't do anything. You're the only one who can help us."

Perhaps it was this last plea finally jolted Gianna's mind back to reality. Gianna blinked slowly, tears beginning to form again. "Myra?"

"Oh, thank the Force!" sighed Myra. "C'mon, we need you to program the navicomp so we can get out of here. Can you program?"

"We're going to leave Wills and Lizzi?"

Myra forced herself to calm down. "We have no choice. At least if we escape, we'll be able to come back and rescue them."

Gianna didn't look convinced.

"But we won't be able to come back if we're in a million pieces!" exploded Myra, finally losing her patience. "Now get moving!"

Myra hauled Gianna to her feet and dragged her to the cockpit. Just as they got there, something in the back of the ship exploded.

"We are in very serious trouble," said Sharl seriously as the two stumbled inside. "Rear deflector shields gone, other shields losing power fast and now one of the hyperdrive engines shot."

"Does that mean we can't make the jump to hyperspace?" squeaked Gianna. Fear had brought her back to her senses.

"We can still jump, but not very far," said Sharl as she swerved to avoid a green laser. "And without the navicomp working we can't jump at all. To cut it short, we're dead if you can't fix the computer."

This ultimatum brought Gianna up short. "I think I can," she said hesitantly.

"You'd better be able to otherwise we might as well turn around and fly back to Nicira and save the Imps the trouble. Get back up to the guns Myra."

For the fourth time Myra ran out of the cockpit. Gianna sat down in front of the computer, and was soon absorbed in her task.

"Oh, so that's what's wrong," exclaimed Gianna about two seconds later.

"Glad you found out so quickly. Fix it!" yelled Sharl. Her sweaty hands slipped and the Askme Cozino careened into a TIE fighter. Being much smaller and without shields, the TIE exploded. The Cozino emerged whole, but without any shields left. Sharl's heart raced and she began to pray to whatever beings existed for salvation.

Gianna's fingers flew over the keys and gigabytes of data scrolled over the screen.

"Where shall I set the course?" asked Gianna.

"You choose! Just get us out of here!"

"We don't have much choice since the hyperdrive isn't working properly."

"I don't care! Anywhere!"

Gianna began to shiver, the effects of shock coming back to her despite the buffering effects of adrenaline and fear. Her vision wavered and she squinted at the screen.

"N-nearest exit point cal-calculated. Coordinates r-r-ready in about thirt-t-ty seconds-s-s-s."

Sharl moved one hand to the hyperdrive controls, and waited.

The thirty seconds were the longest of her life.

Sharl pulled back the hyperdrive levers.

The stars flared into starlines and then merged into a coruscating whirlpool as the Cozino finally went to lightspeed and left Nicira - and two dear friends - behind.

Sharl sighed with relief. She could hear her sister crowing with glee in the gun well.

"Finally," said Sharl. "Thanks Gianna."

There was no answer.

"Gianna?"

Sharl turned around.

Gianna lay on the cold floor in a dead faint.

Part Twenty-Eight

Posted on Wednesday, 12 January 2000

Lady Katrin looked suspiciously at M'Ann and the man beside her as they entered her office. She was in a rather dark mood after having her domain invaded by Rebel saboteurs and rescuers. The two TIE squadrons she had launched after the escaping freighter had failed to shoot it down and the whole incident had shown Lady Ktrin just how green her troops were.

The Imperial commander thought that the man M'Ann was bringing to see her was one of the two captured Rebels. However M'Ann treated him not like a prisoner, but rather as an equal - or even an old acquaintance.

"I trust you have an explanation for this, M'Ann?" asked Lady Katrin, sitting behind her desk, hands folded beneath her face. "Why isn't this man locked up with one of our interrogation droids?"

"It turns out not everything was what it seemed, mother," replied M'Ann, she and Wills coming to attention a meter from the Fijisi wood desk. Lady Katrin was slightly surprised when the young man executed a perfect Imperial salute. "Mother, I'd like you to meet Wills Darcy, former Imperial TIE fighter commander on Corellia, now member of Imperial Intelligence."

Lady Katrin looked at Wills. "Most interesting," said she. Her suspicions weren't alleviated though. "Would you care to explain today's incident to us, Mr. Darcy?"

"My lady," said Wills, nodding his head slightly, as he gathered his thoughts and wits to relate the story he had created. "For several months now I have been stationed to monitor the Rebels stationed in Shibric. I managed to work my way into their trust and they accepted me as one of their own. This particular group of Rebel scum was working in a small weapons factory producing munitions for the Rebellion. One of the scientists, Gianna Drax was kidnapped. Rebel sources tracked her here and a team was formed to perform a rescue operation. The primary target was to retrieve the scientist - you know how Rebels get so sentimental over worthless alien slime. The secondary target was to destroy any vital facilities in the area.

"I alerted my commanding officer on Coruscant and I received orders from Ysanne Isard herself to insinuate myself into the operation and prevent their success at all costs. I managed to do so, but while I succeed in preventing any sabotage, I was not able to prevent the rescue of the Omwati alien."

Lady Katrin's eyes narrowed, still not completely convinced of Wills' proclaimed allegiance to the Empire. She looked over the brief report M'Ann had sent to her just a few moments ago, then asked. "Why did you run back to help the injured Rebel, then carry her away from the stormtroopers? You had nothing to fear from them. Why did you not concern yourself with stopping the Rebel's ship?"

Wills frowned. "I thought that your stormtroopers could handle the Rebel freighter. I went back to pick up the fallen Rebel because I know stromtrooper training. Your soldiers would have shot her, and then we would have no one to question."

"Yet you insisted on running away."

The Imperial/Rebel coughed. "It's rather difficult to explain something to trigger-happy troops running after you. I didn't exactly want to get shot. Besides, I have managed to keep the other three Rebels convinced that I am really a Rebel. Benyt, however, knows the truth now, but it doesn't matter - cause she won't be leaving here in a hurry."

"Does this mean you'll be leaving?" asked M'Ann with a slightly pained look.

Wills looked coldly at her. "Not yet. If I return too soon, the Rebels will get suspicious. I'll stay here a month at the most. It will be refreshing to live again in a proper Imperial environment."

Lady Katrin put away the report - and most of her suspicions. "I would not concern yourself over your failure to keep Drax here. She has completed the task I set for her. As for the captured Rebel whom you stunned, she will be kept here - alive - until she has no more use. Perhaps another rescue operation will be made."

Wills nodded in acknowledgement, silently grateful that Lizzi was going to be kept alive.

"M'Ann, see to it that our guest is comfortable for his period of stay here," Lady Katrin told her daughter.

M'Ann and Wills knew a dismissal when they heard one. They saluted in perfect time with Imperial precision, turned, and left the room.

Once they were outside, the atmosphere became a lot less formal, but not much more friendly.

"Wills, it's been absolute ages since we last saw each other!" exclaimed M'Ann. "How have you been?"

Wills Darcy had been striding along the corridor without looking at M'Ann but then he suddenly turned and faced her, and stared once again into those gray eyes that he had once looked into lovingly. Now, all that remained was anger, and they were starting off from where they had left off, that night long ago.

"Do you think that you can just say 'hello' like this and pretend that it never happened? As far as I am concerned there is nothing between us any more. Sorry for being blunt, but as M'Ann, you mean nothing to me. As Captain Bourg of the Emperor's New Order, you are a colleague, a fellow Imperial. That is all the relationship that is now possible between us."

M'Ann looked sadly up at him.

"I think I still might love you."

Wills glared at her. "You're wasting your time," he snarled, then turned away again with a dark expression and began to walk away.

M'Ann stared despairingly at his back, then murmured,

"I'm sorry, Wills."

Wills turned to face her again. "We went through this that night. I understand your reasons for your actions - you did it to protect the New Order that we serve - but I can never forgive you. Are we clear, Captain?"

M'Ann's face fell in resignation. "Clear, Commander."

It was late at night. Wills lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The layout of the room was too familiar - the standard Imperial layout he had lived with for several tears during his training. Now when he looked at it, the orderly, bare gray, black and white room seemed lifeless with no personality. He remembered the various rooms he had had in the Rebellion. Each one had over time been tailored to reflect the inhabitant's tastes. Even his rooms on Hoth had seemed more homely, cold as they were, for they had been cut out of the living ice.

Wills wanted nothing more at the moment than to kill M'Ann. But he knew he couldn't do it. He still had some form of feelings for her - not much, but enough not to wish her death, though she had hurt him.

Besides, she was a blind as he had been about the Empire.

And Lizzi - what had been done with her?

What had he done? He just admitted that he was an Imperial, and that he had nearly betrayed them all. To Lizzi, of all people!

What the hell have I got myself into? After all the trouble I went to get on Lizzi's good side, to win her over, I go and blow it.

But he had to do it. They had to escape, that was for certain, and an escape was much easier to accomplish if only one of them was locked up, instead of both of them.

Now all he had to do was convince Lizzi of that.

That's going to be harder than pushing my X-wing into hyperspace with my own muscles, he thought despairingly. She'll never believe that there is nothing between M'Ann and me.

For some reason, convincing Lizzi that he had no feelings for M'Ann seemed more important than escape.

Perhaps it's time I told her...everything.

Wills' heart fell. Did he have to swallow his pride and reveal to Lizzi what hurt him so much? What if she used it to hurt him?

I would deserve it. I did shoot her.

It would be painful, to relive those memories - but it had to be done, if he wanted Lizzi to trust him.

Having made up his mind, Wills Darcy got out of bed, grabbed a datapad and a datadisc, and began to type.

He was still typing several hours later.

Part Twenty-Nine

Posted on Tuesday, 18 January 2000

Lizzi was not in a good mood.

Of course, being in an Imperial detention cell would induce that sort of feeling, but this particular bad mood was enhanced by the fact that her head was still fuzzy after shaking off the effects of being drugged, and before that, stunned and shot in the leg.

However, added to all that was the knowledge that her so-called 'friend' had turned out to be an Imperial agent. It was this fact that compounded the bad mood more than anything else.

Lizzi rubbed her eyes and squinted, rubbing her limbs to restore the blood circulation. The first thing begging attention was the examination of her wounded leg. Abandoning modesty, as she was alone in the cell, Lizzi removed the Imperial uniform pants and looked at her blaster burn.

To her surprise, it wasn't as bad as she remembered it to be. Instead of a nasty raw blast, it was instead half healed in the manner that implied some medication of some sort had been applied. Lizzi couldn't reconcile the idea of considerate Imperials with the people who had destroyed her home planet.

The next thing she did was to take a look at her surroundings. A small cell, only a few meters square that had nothing but a bed and a basic refresher unit. The walls and floor were a shiny black and illuminated by a harsh white light, while the door had no markings of any kind and was too thick to allow Lizzi to hear anything on the other side.

Lizzi hated being caged. And she hated being betrayed. She hated Wills. She hated the fact that she hated Wills. And she hated the Empire who had destroyed her home and family and she hated herself for believing Wills because she liked him and she hated the way her mind was running around in circles.

"I want out," she whispered, curling up in a ball in the corner of the cell.

She rocked back and forth for some minutes, burying her head between her knees. She was trapped, and she hated being confined. What made this even worse was that she was imprisoned inside an Imperial detention cell, her only allies were lightyears away and surrounded by enemies. She had no hope of escape, and from what she had heard about Imperials, she expected a painful death in the very near future.

She was about to weep with fear and frustration. And she wanted to cry because Wills Darcy was an Imperial. She was a Rebel. Any relationship between them was impossible.

Bah, what m I thinking? It's not as if I liked that space-slug anyway.

The last thing she remembered before the darkness was that Wills had revealed himself as an Imperial agent, and in cahoots with the people who had captured Gianna. And what personally hurt, was that Wills had shot her. Throughout her coma, this one memory had repeated itself over and over again, and the rage it built up in her was so great that she was almost ready to blast through the walls using nothing but her strength of will.

"WILLS, YOU BASTARD!!!" screamed Lizzi, suddenly leaping up and kicking the door hysterically, ignoring the lances of pain that shot up her wounded leg. "YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS!!"

Kicking the door didn't really help, but Lizzi imagined she was kicking Wills' head in and it made her feel better.

Besides, it helped to quell the rising fear of her situation.

"I swear, I am going to rip your kriffing guts out and use them for my belt!!" yelled Lizzi. She kicked the door a few more times, then punched it when she couldn't bear the pain in her leg anymore. "Sithspawn, I can't believe that I actually liked you! You are such a disgusting slime-ball that I wouldn't even use you to clean the sewer!"

Lizzi's imagination wasn't quite running at full capacity after shaking off the drug-haze, and so unable to think of any more insults in Basic, she switched to Rodian. After that, she moved to Corellian, Twi'lek, Bothan, Gamorrean, Selonian, Huttese, used up what little Wookese she could speak and finally invented some new swearwords of her own. But inventing new words of abuse wasn't satisfying seeing as only she knew their meanings.

By now Lizzi was exhausted, and she could no longer hold off the panic and hysteria within. She collapsed in tears against the door, still hitting it with her bruised hands.

"You damned Imperial," hissed Lizzi, choking on sobs.

The new black Imperial uniform Wills had been given fit comfortably physically, but not psychologically. The Imperial crest on his chest he had once worn so proudly now represented nothing but oppression and pain. However Wills tried to ignore it, and walked briskly down to the detention area.

This would probably be the best chance he would get to speak with Lizzi. M'Ann and her mother had gone off to the lowest levels for some experiment or other that Wills was not yet allowed to see. Being perhaps one of the most high-ranking Imperials in the compound save Lady Katrin, he had taken advantage of the Bourg's absence to fiddle with the surveillance system to freeze the camera in Lizzi's cell. All that it would show was a loop of what it had recorded so far, and so none of the details of Wills speaking with Lizzi.

By now, word had filtered down the ranks that Wills Darcy was an Imperial Intelligence Agent. As with all rumors, the tales grew an extra leg every time they were told and all sorts of twists were added, from Wills having single-handedly saved Helfire Laboratories from Rebel saboteurs to him being a personal representative of Darth Vader sent to inspect the area. Whatever the truth was, it gave Wills the respect - and fear - from the other Imperials that enabled him to do whatever he wished with no questions asked.

The Imperials on duty in the detention center had obviously heard of Wills' reputation, for as he entered they stood briskly to attention with a crisp, "Sir!"

"At ease," acknowledged Wills. "Where is the Rebel prisoner being held?" he asked.

"High security area AF, cell 1317," answered one of the Imperial soldiers without hesitation.

"I want you to show me this cell," Wills ordered the nearest Imperial. "I want to question her."

"Sir!" said the chosen man with a salute. "Will you be needing an interrogation droid?"

Wills resolutely withstood the urge to vomit. He had seen what interrogation droids could do and the idea of using one of them on Lizzi was horrific. "No," he answered as casually as possible. "That will not be needed. I have my own ways of making her talk."

This veiled boast would no doubt cause another wild rumor to spread about him. Wills didn't care. He walked a thin line here. He had to get himself and Lizzi out of here as soon as possible and anything that would make his job easier was more than welcome. However, first Wills had to prove to Lizzi that he was not an Imperial agent.

The Imperial soldier Wills had commanded to lead the way gestured for Wills to follow him and walked down the corridor of the detention area and came to a stop at a door no different than the rest. Wills knew from past knowledge that the walls and doors of Imperial holding cells were thick, but he was still able to hear Lizzi swearing and yelling various obscenities about Imperials in general and Wills in particular.

"She's been doing that ever since she woke up," remarked the Imperial soldier. "She'll scream her head off for a while then stop. After she gets her breath back she starts yelling again."

"Did you give her the medpac like I asked you to?" asked Wills.

"Yes sir. She'll get another one in a few hours. We gave it to her while she was still knocked out from the drugs we shot her with."

"Good. We don't want her dying on us for any reason before we can question her thoroughly."

Wills keyed the door open.

"I do not need an armed guard," he told the Imperial who stood at attention by his side. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

The soldier took the hint and left. Wills then took a deep breath, then stepped inside.

Lizzi was still dressed in her stolen Imperial uniform. Her hair had come out of its binding and fell freely around her face. The moment she saw Wills, her eyes flashed and she changed from kicking the door to throwing herself at Wills, fingers curled into claws and mouth open in a hateful scream.

Wills had no time to think. His body moved reflexively in self-defense drilled into him at the Imperial Academy and he countered by hurling his arm into Lizzi's path throwing her off balance and causing her to slam into the floor, taking most of the force on her bad leg.

"Lizzi -" began Wills, but he was prevented from continuing as Lizzi climbed to her feet and attacked again. Wills, however, could see that she was fighting with her emotions rather than her mind. She wasn't fighting to escape, she was fighting to vent her anger and to punish him.

It was almost too simple a task for Wills to dodge her blows or to block them. He waited until Lizzi neared the point of exhaustion, then as she threw another right-handed punch, caught her slim wrist in his hand. Lizzi didn't stop at this, but brought her left hand around to slap him. Wills caught her left hand as well.

There was no way Lizzi could fight against him in such closed quarters. He was taller and heavier than Lizzi and Wills used his advantage to the maximum. Ignoring her cries, Wills forced Lizzi down onto the bench, and pinned her against the wall until she stopped struggling, and collapsed against him, sobbing.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, Lizzi," said Wills into her ear softly, "but I had no choice."

"You Imperial bastard," cursed Lizzi but without any heat. "Get your hands off me."

"Lizzi, I am a bastard, but not an Imperial one. I'm only doing this so we can get out of here."

Lizzi looked up at him, wisps of tangled dark hair sticking to her tear-streaked face. "Why should I believe you?" she hissed. "You've been lying to me ever since I first knew you."

Wills sighed. "I'm sorry," he said stupidly, unable to think of anything else.

At this apology, Lizzi began to cry again.

"First I thought you were a Rebel. A pretty annoying and hateful Rebel but a Rebel all the same," she said softly. "Then after the probe droid incident on Hoth I thought you were an Imp. But Commander Fitzwilliam told me I was mistaken. I was happy that I was wrong. Then at Smuggler's Moon Wickham told me you were an Imperial spy. Then it turned out Wickham was the traitor, and I thought you were a Rebel. We come here, we get captured, and now I hear it from your own lips that you are actually an Imperial Agent - what the hell am I supposed to believe?!"

Lizzi's voice had been rising with every sentence, and Wills winced as the last words were screamed only centimeters away from his ear.

Perhaps finding new reserves of strength, Lizzi jerked away from where she had collapsed onto Wills and stood up, facing down at him. She shifted her weight off her wounded leg.

"I hate you," she spat. "I hate the way you treat me, I hate the fact that I don't know what you are, and so how what to think of you. I hate it how you tease me and make me laugh at myself. I hate the fact that you were - still are, an Imperial. I hate it when you're nice to me cause then I don't know what to think."

Lizzi swung away from him and faced the wall, yet Wills could still see how the shining tears fell off her face and hit the black floor.

"And I hate it how I might not hate you. I hate the fact that maybe I like someone I hate. And I hate it how you thrice-damned Imperials have shot me and drugged me so I don't know what the hell I'm saying!"

Wills could only sit there in shock at this tirade. Could it be that Lizzi was upset, not because she thought that he had betrayed the Rebellion, but because he had betrayed her, personally, by playing with her feelings for him?

He didn't need her to rant and rave at him to make him hate himself. He already did, for hurting Lizzi. He had belittled her, teased her, mocked her, insulted her, and now betrayed her and shot her. All because he was afraid to get close to her, much as he wanted to. He was afraid to admit to himself that maybe he loved her.

"Lizzi."

The lady in question refused to look at him.

"Please listen to me," he pleaded. "I'm not an Imperial. I'm doing this so we can get out of here. Think, Lizzi - isn't it much easier to plan an escape if one of us has freedom of movement?"

The chilling look she gave him pierced his heart.

After all we have been through, after all our misunderstandings, have I broken our relationship beyond repair? Thought Wills despairingly.

"Will you believe me when I say that I would rather die than co-operate with M'Ann and the Empire? She hurt me in such a way that it was my ultimate reason for defecting to the Rebellion," said Wills. It had come to this - he had to reveal to her what hurt him most.

Lizzi turned her back on him.

"Lizzi," begged Wills desperately. "Please trust me. Please! Lizzi -"

She spoke.

"Get out of my sight."

Wills froze in his position, half-standing.

"Liz -" he began.

"I said get the hell out of here!" she screamed.

Wills could not refuse her anything.

"Alright," he said sadly. "If that's what you want."

"That is what I want," she said contemptuously. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Wills closed his eyes, willing the words not to hurt. It didn't work.

"Lizzi, will you do me this one favor?" he said finally.

Out of curiosity than anything else, Lizzi looked at him. He held out to her a small, portable display pad and a datadisc.

"Will you read this?" he asked her. "I know I have no right to demand anything of you, but I ask you - for our sake, please read it. And," he added imploringly, "please give me another chance."

Almost against her will, Lizzi took the gift. Wills didn't look at her face as she looked up at him, but instead opened the cell door and strode out without a backward glance.

In the corridor, Wills leaned against the hard wall, and rubbed his forehead.

What was it about Lizzi that affected him so? Her dislike of him was more deeply engraved in her heart than before, and it cut him to the core. He wanted her to think well of him, more than anything else in the galaxy.

Heavy footsteps of Imperial boots along the floor interrupted his reverie.

"Sir?" asked the Imperial soldier questioningly. "Are you all right?"

With great force of will, Wills Darcy brought himself back to his present situation, and again took on the mask of a high-ranking, despicable Imperial.

"Perfectly fine," he said loftily. "This one is tougher than most - but don't worry," he said, as if sharing a secret with the man. "We'll break her."

With that, he turned and left the detention area, hoping that Lizzi would give his confession a fair hearing.

Once Wills had left her, Lizzi's legs gave way from underneath her and she fell to the floor crying, still holding the display pad and disc in her hands.

Was she being unfair to him? Was Wills trying to help and she just refused to see it because she was just too damned stubborn to admit that he was right to do what he did?

She couldn't think. She didn't want to think because it was too painful. Instead she concentrated on her hurt leg and how painful it was, and how she wanted to make Wills hurt because he had hurt her.

But I don't want him to hurt. I do care about him.

How ironic that only now she realised that.

The display pad was cool in her hands. She looked down at it, then at the datadisc.

Hesitatingly she inserted the disc into the display pad.

Part Thirty

Posted on Thursday, 20 January 2000

Miss Lizzi Benyt,

I have no right to expect or demand anything of you. I deserve your contempt for all that I have done. However, believe me when I say that my claims of being an Imperial agent are merely for our survival. I take no pleasure in being what I no longer am and I take even less pleasure in treating you the way this role forces me to.

I know you are not convinced. You wish to know why I joined the Rebellion, my relationship with M'Ann Bourg and Wickham's relationship with my family. I will tell you, though it causes me to remember that which I want to forget. I hope that my tale will prove to you where my allegiance lies - to the Rebellion, and to you.

I take no pleasure in writing this. I have never told this to a single person, save the Commander. But I will tell you, because I want you to understand why I have done what I did.

My mother had died when I was two, but my father gave me everything I wanted. He owned an extensive shipping company that by the time I was fourteen, reached from Coruscant to the Inner Rim and everything in between. One of the planets included in this small business empire was the planet of Falleen. It was at this time that Wickham entered or lives.

Wickham had stowed away on one of my father's freighters outbound from Falleen to Corellia. When discovered by the pilot, he was brought to see my father. I know not what passed between them in my father's office, but my father, Jorgen Darcy, obviously took pity on this alien who had suffered during and after the Empire's 'treatment' of the planet. Out of compassion, my father decided to take care of Wickham and provide for him, and brought him home.

Wills Darcy looked up from where he sat at his desk studying his mathematics for tomorrow's test. At this point in his fourteen-year-old life, his ambition was to join the Imperial Academy. Which meant being the best of the best at the prestigious and renowned College of Corellia, which had once been honored with a visit by the legendary Senator Garm Bel Ibis. Which meant working as hard as he could without disturbance. Though he loved and respected his father, Wills did not enjoy being interrupted. With a sigh he moved away from the computer - and froze as he realised his father was not alone.

"Wills," said Jorgen Darcy in his deep voice. "I'd like you to meet Wickham. He's a refugee from the Empire." Wills noticed his father said the word 'Empire' with some disgust, but chose to ignore it. His father knew how badly Wills wanted to join the Academy but continually implied that if Wills could find an ambition that had nothing to do with the Empire, he'd be extremely happy.

"He'll be staying with us," continued his father. "Kind of like adopting him. Can you please look after him while I see to it that he's settled in comfortably?"

Wills looked at the gaunt and haggard face of the alien, and recoiled. The alien's pale green skin was covered in horrible burn scars that had obviously healed by itself, without the benefit of modern medication. However it was the face that shocked Wills most of all. Two black eyes peered forlornly out of a mass of twisted tissue and welts that was enough to give young children nightmares. However Wills had been taught to be tactful, and did his best to keep his disgust from showing on his face.

"Uh, sure, Dad," said Wills, not taking his eyes off the other boy's face.

Jorgen Darcy looked at his son. "Be nice, Wills," he said, before leaving and shutting the door.

Wickham jumped as the door slid closed and tiptoed into the room.

Wills couldn't stop staring.

"What are you looking at?" snarled the newcomer suddenly. "You're not exactly the prettiest of sights either."

Wills did his best to prevent himself from returning the insult with some snide comments of his own. This boy had been through hell, and now was shoved into a foreign world. He was obviously trying to make himself feel more secure, and Wills should do everything to help him.

"Um, I'm sorry," Wills said instead. "It's just that, um, what happened to you?"

"I don't know. I remember loud noises and big lasers firing from orbit to my house, and heaps of places burning and the lake going up in steam and the ceiling falling in and my mom and dad and brothers and sister screaming and me screaming until my throat hurt and my skin burning like crazy and then I don't remember anymore until I woke up and my house and everything was gone."

Wills winced in sympathy as his overactive imagination painted this scene in his mind. "Ouch," he said. "At least you're alive. And now you can stay here. My dad and I will take care of you."

The alien boy, surprised at this display of acceptance rather than rejection, stepped hesitantly further into the room, gazing at his surroundings. It was like nothing he had ever imagined. Large, spacious and luxuriantly furnished, Wickham's scarred feet sank into the temperature-regulated carpet. A servant droid stood on standby in the corner beside a neatly arranged shelf full of books. Models of various ships, from Imperial Star Destroyers to TIE fighters fought imaginary battles against X-wings and Z-95 Headhunters.

"You like?" asked Wills as Wickham stared open-mouthed at the ships. "I'm going to join the Imperial Academy when I'm older and I'm going to be the best fighter pilot there is. And I'll be so great that I'll defeat the Rebellion all by myself and the Emperor himself will say, 'Wills, you're the greatest.'"

Wickham stared at the human boy jealously. This youngster had everything - a loving father, a comfortable home, an education, a future, whereas he had nothing but sympathy and charity.

"Maybe I'll join the Academy too," said Wickham.

The other boy smiled, then got off his chair and walked over to Wickham. "Yeah, maybe we'll go there together. Come on," said Wills, taking Wickham's arm, trying to ignore the rough and irregular welts. "I'll show you around."

Wickham and I became good friends, and my father provided him with everything, as if Wickham was his own son. He arranged for treatment for Wickham's burns, skin grafts and the like. In the meantime he had a bio-mask custom made for Wickham's face. His face was the most seriously injured of all, and repairing the damage would have to wait until Wickham was older.

The room was quiet, save for the monotonous beeping of equipment. Wills sat by the bed, forcing himself to stare at his friend's disfigured face. When he could no longer stand it, he moved his gaze to Wickham's now smooth foot that poked out from underneath the thermal bed sheets.

"He shall regain consciousness in a few minutes," reported the medical droid as its sensors blinked, taking in readings of the alien boy's slowly increasing metabolism.

Wills nodded and settled in to wait.

He didn't have to wait for long. Wickham's eyelids fluttered open and the moment they did, the fifteen-year old human by the hospital bed got up from his chair and approached the bed.

"How do you feel?" asked Wills.

Wickham turned his head towards his friend and grinned. "Like a Hutt just sat on me."

The two boys laughed.

"Dad'll be coming in," said Wills. "You look great."

The Falleen alien extended his right leg and pulled the covers back. "Wow," he breathed. "I'm actually beginning to look normal."

Wills smiled. "The next operation will be next year. By the time you're twenty you'll be the best looking guy in the galaxy and all the girls will chase you. You're pretty lucky you met me and my dad, otherwise who knows what would've happened to you?"

Wickham's expression darkened, but he had learned to hide his feelings and instead returned Will's smile from where he lay on the bed. "Thanks, Wills," he said softly, extending his hand.

The other boy took it and shook it.

Wickham attended school with me, and I even introduced him to the club I was a member of, a club for students whose passion and hobby was piloting. This is where I met Charls Bingley, though he attended a school on the other side of the planet. Wickham didn't stay for long. He knew nearly nothing of piloting and ships and such and after one meeting he left. His interests were elsewhere.

After being ignored and shunned for his whole life, Wickham wanted attention and power. And he got it. Being Falleen, he was popular among the girls and thanks to the surgery my father provided and the masks, he was more than moderately attractive. However, he did not use this advantage discreetly.

Eighteen-year-old Wills tried his best to ignore Wickham's antics in the cantina. The exotic Falleen male had three females, two human and one Twi'lek literally at his feet. And Wills knew that Wickham was enjoying every minute of it.

The boyfriends of the three were scattered around the cantina, shooting blaster-bolt type glares at Wickham which were ignored. However as Wickham dispatched kisses to each Wills could see that the jilted males were gearing for a fight.

"Wickham, stop this, you're going to get us in trouble," said Wills.

The young alien downed another drink. "Come now, I'm enjoying myself. Do you want one?" he asked Wills, gesturing to one of the fawning girls.

Wills shook his head in disgust. "Get a grip on yourself. We're going."

"No way. This little dear here has promised to give me a bite of glit."

Wills couldn't prevent his shock from showing on his face. "You shouldn't have that glit, Wickham. Have you forgotten that we have the interviews for the Imperial Academy tomorrow?"

Wickham stared at Wills with one bleary eye. "You know how damned expensive glitterstim is, Wills?" he retorted, ignoring the Twi'lek girl who was kissing his neck. "She's willing to give it to me as a token of her regard. For free."

"You're willing to go through all this just to get a bite of spice?"

The alien shrugged. "Did you think I like these pretties that much? No, as long as they have a use I'll keep them around. Once I'm sick of them I'll move on."

Wills shook his head. "I can't believe this," he growled. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the three males rising from their seats. "Party's over, we've got to get out of here." He grabbed Wickham's now flawless arm, but Wickham pulled away.

"I can take care of myself," snapped Wickham. "Just because you're too gutless to live a little, doesn't mean I can't."

Wills gave up and stormed away. At the door of the cantina, he looked back. A physical fight had been averted by the girls who loudly reprimanded their former boyfriends for interrupting. Three arguments began as the three couples shouted and argued.

In the middle of it all was Wickham, who lay sprawled languidly over two chairs with his hands behind his head, looking extremely pleased with himself, and the conflict he had caused.

Wills shook his head in disgust and walked out.

I never told my father about Wickham's behaviour. I didn't want to hurt him by telling him that all his help and effort was creating a delinquent. When in my father's company, Wickham was the perfect gentleman, but I being the same age as he, was able to observe that Wickham's good behaviour was as false as his facial bio-mask.

We both applied for the Imperial Academy. I was accepted first round. Wickham, being non-human, was not.

"Congratulations, son."

Jorgen Darcy smiled benevolently onto his only child, who was having a hard time keeping his exuberance under control.

"However, Wills, are you sure the Imperial Academy is where you want to go? I make no secret of the fact that I am not happy with the Empire, and would really prefer you to choose some other career. But if your heart is set on going, then I shall not stop you."

"Dad, this is what I have always dreamed of! Of course I'm going! I'll become an Imperial Naval officer and make you proud."

"Yes, Commander Wills Darcy. How wonderful," said Wickham sarcastically.

Jorgen Darcy turned to his adopted son. "Now, Wickham, perhaps it's for the best that you didn't get in. There are thousands of other careers in the galaxy to choose from. There's no need to be disappointed."

"It's not the fact that I didn't get in!" retorted Wickham. "It's the fact that I was rejected merely because I'm not human!"

The elder Darcy sighed. "Yes, we all know the Emperor's prejudice against non-humans. But there's nothing we can do about it, except hope that someday the Empire will be replaced with something more liberal minded."

Wickham didn't reply, but turned and left the room, Wills following behind.

"Hey, why are you stressed?" said Wills gaily when they had reached Wickham's room. "You'll be fine!"

Wickham glared at his 'brother'. "Like you care! You've got everything just made for you! I, on the other hand have to scrimp and scrape for everything I get!"

Wills' eyes flashed. "If you haven't noticed in all the years you've been here, we've given you everything!"

"Do you think I like charity?" spat Wickham.

"That's beside the point. What I'm talking about, is that because of my father, you have been given a second chance at life, with all the advantages that you never had before. And you are blowing it. You use our money for gambling and spice and you use your pretty fake face to attract girls who you just use without any regard for them. And you get yourself neck-deep in trouble because of all this. I don't know why I keep pulling you out."

Wickham sneered. "You spoilt little rich kid. You've had everything so easy. The galaxy picked me up and threw me on the scrap heap. I've come back, and the galaxy and everyone in it had better be careful. Including you and your father."

The Falleen alien shoved Wills out the door and into the corridor. "And I'm glad I didn't get into the stinking Academy," he sneered. "After all, it was the damned Empire who ruined my life in the first place. And I'll get them back for that. So watch out for me. Imperial."

SW notes: Glitterstim - the most potent form of spice, mined in Kessel 'We'll be sent to the spice mines of Kessel!' C-3P0, A New Hope. Thought to give the user a brief telepathic boost, is extremely potent and expensive and gives a sense of euphoria.
Falleen - If you don't remember, the Empire was researching biological weaponry on Falleen. A mutant virus got loose, and the entire planet had to be sterilised with turbolasers from orbit. The native species have pheromones that make them extremely attractive to the opposite sex, and it works on all humanoids.

Part Thirty-B

Posted on Thursday, 20 January 2000

I left the week after for Carida for training. I was apprehensive, because I didn't know what Wickham would do while I was away. It turned out I didn't have to worry. Wickham may be an immoral malefactor, but he's not stupid. He managed to carry on his wild behaviour yet keep my father in the dark. So my father continued to support Wickham, and each year the traditional operations were performed.

At Carida, there were more than enough things to make me turn my attention away from home and my father and Wickham. Tests after tests, training sessions without end, lectures, exercises, and propaganda sessions designed to turn new recruits into the perfect Imperial. There was soon another distraction, however. An Imperial recruit by the name of M'Ann Bourg.

Wills rubbed his eyes as he tried to recall the basics of non-linear hyperspace geometry. It didn't help.

"You look as if you need a break," said a voice from the person standing beside his desk.

He looked up and squinted against the light. Then his eyes came into focus and he stared at the figure.

A pair of grey eyes sparkled as they looked down. Her arms were crossed across her chest and her head was tilted slightly to the side as she grinned at him. The straight black hair was cut short in a military style that still managed to look fashionable, and she wore the khaki Imperil uniform with pride.

"Yeah, I think I do," replied Wills slowly.

"M'Ann Bourg," said she, introducing herself. "And you're Wills Darcy, right?"

"At your service."

"You're a polite guy. Do you get this stuff at all?" asked the other, gesturing at Wills' computer.

"I usually do, but not now," groaned Wills, resting his head on his hands.

M'Ann laughed. "I bet it's because you haven't let your brain relax. Come on, I'll take you out. My treat."

Wills smiled. "I think I'll take that offer."

M'Ann was a wonderful friend. She was the one who persuaded me to stop work and have some fun whenever I forced myself to go on. We had much in common, and it wasn't long before we were an item.

Her mother was an Imperial, and she wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps. M'Ann was also fanatically loyal to the Empire. She didn't believe any of those rumors that were floating around the galaxy of the Empire's atrocities. I on the other hand, received regular messages from my father and Charls Bingley, who was now studying medicine on Corellia. They told me what the media didn't say - anyone who spoke out against the Empire would disappear out of their homes in the middle of the night, any protests were viciously put down. Non-humans were being treated as animals and any literature that spoke of the Jedi was banned. Support for the Rebellion was growing every day, and I was beginning to feel some misgivings about my loyalty to the Empire. But I chose to ignore it all, and continue with my training.

It wasn't long before I was one of the best in the class. In piloting, no one could touch me. M'Ann, however, was repeatedly ignored and snubbed by the officers. It wasn't because she was a poor student - she helped me often with my work whenever I had trouble, but more because the Empire disapproved of females in the military.

We spent a lot of time together, and I told her about my life. But I didn't mention Wickham - he I didn't want anyone to know about. She was extremely supportive and helpful. But she wouldn't even listen to my suspicions about the Empire. The moment I even began to speak of my growing disillusionment, she would refuse to listen. However, despite our differences over this issue, we still remained together all the way until graduation.

I was sent to the Star Destroyer Persecutor, where I became part of the TIE fighter squadron. My ability and skill eventually got me promoted to Commander, and my TIE squadron managed to get one of the highest kill scores and the lowest killed statistics. I kept up regular correspondence with M'Ann who had been transferred to Corellia, and my father and Charls. Wickham, didn't write, and I couldn't rely on my father's information on him.

It was about eight months ago that the Persecutor was sent to the Corellian system. I managed to get a few weeks leave to return home, where I found things much different than when I had left.

Wills walked through the familiar house in search of his father. He wasn't in the garden that he loved, or in his reading room. That left only the study, which had been off-limits to Wills and Wickham for as long as Wills could remember. But Wills was an adult now, and he wanted to see his father.

As he approached the door, he could hear voices. One he easily identified as his fathers, the other however was totally unknown to him. He raised his hand to knock on the door.

"- the Rebellion is extremely grateful for this help, Mr. Darcy," said the unknown voice, freezing Wills' hand inches away from the door. "We are struggling and these funds will be most appreciated."

"You can't fight a war without money, Miyaki," said his father. "And this war is definitely one we need to win. I only wish that my son could help you."

"He has chosen his path. Even if I do not approve of the Empire, your son has chosen it, and it is not our place to force him to deviate from his choice. Free will is part of what we are fighting for."

"Yes. Free will, and liberty."

"May the Force be with you, Mr. Darcy," said Miyaki.

"Good luck."

Wills darted into the room across the corridor and peered through the crack as a horned Gotal exited the study and walked briskly down the corridor and out of Wills' field of view. He could hear his father sigh, then also leave the study for the garden.

"Unwelcome home, Wills," said a voice behind him.

Wills jumped and reflexively moved into a defensive crouch, only to relax slightly when he saw Wickham. "Oh, it's you," he said exasperated.

"Why, shocked that your dad is helping the Rebellion?" said Wickham mockingly. "You're an Imperial - are you going to turn your own father in?"

"How long has this been going on?" demanded Wills.

Wickham shrugged. "Several years. About the same time you left for the Imperial Academy," the alien said derisively.

Wills leaned against the wall in shock. His own father, for years supporting the Rebellion. He couldn't believe it.

"How can he do this?" said Wills aloud. "This can get him killed."

Wickham smirked. "So Wills Darcy. You're an Imperial now. A Commander. How does that make you feel? You wanted to make your father proud, didn't you? He may tell you that he's proud of you, but believe me, he wishes you would join the Rebellion instead."

"What are you talking about?"

"You been away for years, Wills. Jorgen and I are very good friends. After all, he has been like a father to me," said Wickham mockingly. "Doesn't mean I owe him anything. It's just charity after all, and all I want is to repay the galaxy for what she has done to me. I must say you two are helping me heaps. I thank you," he said in a tone that said the very opposite.

Wills stared at the alien, who now was a beautiful as a statue. "You haven't changed a bit, Wickham. Has Dad finished your operations?"

"No, unfortunately. My face still isn't done. Otherwise I would have left him ages ago. He's saving up for it though. For some reason I take second place to the Rebellion."

The implications of this were not lost on Wills. He stared in shock. "How much has Dad given to the Rebellion?" he demanded.

Wickham glared through the window at Jorgen Darcy fiddling about in the garden. "Enough that he can't pay for the last stage of my surgery."

"What?!"

Wickham smiled thinly. "You're not as well-off as you used to be. Now maybe you can get a taste of what it feels like to be on the galaxy's scrap heap."

Wills started pacing around the room. "If the Empire finds out, Dad is going to be in serious trouble."

Wickham smirked. "He has it coming. By the way, how's your girlfriend?"

Wills halted and stared at Wickham. "How do you know about M'Ann?"

The alien looked at Wills through his black eyes. "You write to your father. Your father talks to me. Do I need to draw you a diagram?"

Wills threw up his hands in disgust and flung himself into a form-chair.

"So how is she?" repeated Wickham.

"That's none of your business."

"I'll find out anyway after you've told your father. Why don't you just save us the trouble and tell me directly?"

Wills shot Wickham a dark look. "She's on Corellia at the moment, the Captain of the Imperial outpost around here."

"So you've managed to find yourself an Imperial girlfriend. You two sound made for each other."

"Shut up."

Wickham laughed unpleasantly. "I don't like you, Wills. I don't like the Empire. Since you're now an Imp, it'll make things all the more sweeter when I pull you down."

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Wills to brood over how his life was no longer as picturesque as before.

I didn't know what to do. Wickham was getting to be more than a problem, he was possibly a danger. And there was no way I could tell anyone of my father's connections with the Rebellion. It would endanger his life.

Wickham had to be stopped. As a Falleen, his greatest asset was the power he could gain over others, using his species natural pheromones and his own charm. However he was relying on us to complete his surgery. He didn't deserve it.

"Can I speak with you, Dad?"

Jorgen Darcy looked up from his desk, then at the chrono on the wall. "It's rather late, Wills," he replied. "Why aren't you out with Wickham enjoying your young life?"

Wills scowled. Wickham had gone off alone on one of his excursions. Wills knew him well enough to imagine what these excursions consisted of.

"I need to talk to you. About Wickham."

Hearing the seriousness in his son's voice, Jorgen Darcy gave Wills his entire attention.

Wills took a deep breath. This would not be an easy thing for his father to hear.

"I know this is hard for you to believe, Dad, but it's true. Wickham is a walking time bomb. It's only a matter of time before he blows and hurts everyone around him. He's taken advantage of our generosity and uses it for his own ends. He harbors no gratitude to us and has told me on numerous occasions that he doesn't owe us anything."

"I beg your pardon?"

Wills heard the warning signal in his father's voice, but continued on to describe Wickham's immoral behaviour in great detail, from the seductions to the gambling, to the bribes to the spice dealing. The list went on and on and Jorgen Darcy couldn't believe his ears.

"And how long has this been going on for, Wills?" he demanded.

Wills braced himself. "At least eight years. Maybe more."

"And you never told me?"

"No, sir. I didn't want to hurt you. And I thought that maybe, just maybe, he would mend his ways."

Jorgen Darcy remained speechless for some minutes, then sighed. "I don't blame you for not telling me. I only wish that I hadn't been so blind to you two boys. After all these years...what did I do wrong with Wickham?"

Wills shrugged. "You didn't do anything wrong. He's just been at war with the galaxy ever since that incident on Falleen. He's unstable and lashes out at everyone around him."

Jorgen Darcy groaned. "What am I to do?"

The younger Darcy waited before giving his suggestion. "I think that we should not give Wickham the money for the last stage of surgery on his face. Let him earn the money himself. We've given him everything - he doesn't deserve anymore."

His father looked at him with a pained look. "Are you sure? He has suffered so much, and now we are just abandoning him?"

"We gave him a second chance at life! And he didn't take it. It's his own fault!"

Jorgen Darcy sighed in resignation. "I trust your judgement. Let it be done."

Wills hung his head, and turned to leave.

"Wills."

He stopped, but did not turn around.

"Are - are you happy where you are?" asked his father.

"What do you mean?" asked Wills mechanically, though he knew exactly what his father was talking about.

"Are you happy in the Empire?"

Wills didn't speak. He was happy. He had a good position, respect, a girlfriend whom he loved, everything. But he didn't have his father's approval.

"Yes."

He heard his father sigh.

"I am happy for you."

Wills didn't look at his father.

"Thank you, father. Good night."

It was only afterwards that I realised that Wickham had returned early and overheard every word. But he didn't confront me over this. Not immediately. He was too calculating. Instead, he planned his revenge with care, and in a way that he knew would hurt me most.

Darcy was awakened in the early hours of morning. He lay there in his bed for some minutes, trying to determine what had disturbed him. His hand automatically reached for his blaster, which lay on the bedside table.

He heard it. It was almost too soft for him to hear, but he heard it. It came from downstairs, at the front of the large mansion.

Wills slipped quietly out of the bed and padded silently across the floor. He keyed the door open, and stealthily crept out into the corridor. Quickly he made his way to the stairs and descended. At the foot of the staircase, he stopped and listened again.

The sound was louder this time, like the sound of a vibroknife. The high-pitched buzzing set Wills' teeth on edge. It was coming from the room to Wills' right. Swiftly he ran to the door, and keyed it open.

"Hold it!" he shouted, raising the blaster into combat position.

Sitting on the windowsill with a large bag over his shoulder was Wickham. He looked up, startled, then smiled, predatory like.

"What an unpleasant surprise, Wills. Come to see me off?"

"Leaving so soon? What's in the bag?"

Wickham shook the bag a little. There was a muffled clanking from inside. "Oh, just some of this, some of that. Like that pricey little figurine your father had sitting in his room. Like that expensive piece of art by Venthan Chassu you have in the lounge. Stuff like that."

"Give it back. It belongs to my father."

"Oh, I don't think you're father will be worrying about it for much longer."

Wills froze. "What do you mean?" he snapped, trying to quell the sudden rise of fear in his gut.

Wickham smiled evilly. "I mean that your father's true allegiance has been discovered. By the help of an anonymous tip of course. I thought that as a good Imperial citizen, I should inform Captain M'Ann Bourg about Jorgen Darcy's little agreement with the Rebellion. And you know how the Empire deals with traitors. After all, you are an Imperial."

With a sudden flash of foreboding, Wills spun on his heel and ran for his father's study at the back of the house, Wickham's mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

There was a light in his father's study. He could hear muffled voices.

He ran faster.

"For betraying the Empire," said a familiar voice with a harshness he had never heard before. "I sentence you to death."

"NO!" screamed Wills.

A single blaster shot.

Wills skidded to a halt in the doorway of the study.

The white light from the ceiling lit up the scene with a sharpness that hurt. Six white armored stormtroopers surrounded the desk. Behind the chair, with a blaster in her hand stood M'Ann with a satisfied smile on her face.

Sitting in the chair sprawled over the desk, shot in execution-style point blank range in the back of the head, was Wills' father, Jorgen Darcy.

M'Ann saw me, and ordered all of her stormtroopers out. They filed past me without a single glance. They are trained to feel no remorse. The last of them shut the door behind him.

Wills couldn't move. He stared at his father's body. A trickle of blood had worked its way down his father's neck and onto the desk. The crimson blood looked so strange in a scene that was virtually black and white. M'Ann's face was pale, and looked even whiter when contrasted with her black hair and black uniform. The walls were bleached from their soft grey to bone white. The ebony wood desk from Taeskii absorbed all the light like a black hole. Wills felt her steel-gray eyes on him as he stood in the door, black blaster hanging limply from his hand dressed in a robe of a blue so dark it looked black.

"It had to be done, Wills," said M'Ann in a firm, determined voice. "He betrayed the Empire. Our Emperor. He had to die."

Wills didn't speak. He stared at the blood that was now pooling on the desk and dripping onto the floor.

"People like your father deserve their fate. They will support the cause that will see the end of you and me. They want chaos - the Empire and the New Order stand for order! The Rebellion must be destroyed. At any cost. Any cost."

Wills didn't move.

"Wills, love?" cajoled M'Ann, her determined expression cracking. "I did this for the Empire. For us."

Wills forced his eyes away from the red blood to M'Ann's gray eyes.

"There is no us," he bit out slowly.

M'Ann froze.

"Wills, I am sorry, but it had to be done. Don't you understand?"

"Get out of my house."

Her gray eyes were sympathetic, but still burned with a fanatical fire. "This place has been repossessed by the order of the Diktat of Corellia. It will be demolished and the land used for the good of the Empire, as it has been soiled with Rebel blood."

Wills hardly recognised the M'Ann who spoke to him. M'Ann was slowly fading, and all that remained was the Imperial.

"You can come with me, and rejoin the Persecutor later. We can still be together," pleaded M'Ann.

Still in a dazed shock, Wills slowly began to back out of the room, away from the feeling of death that now pervaded it.

As soon as he was outside, he ran, M'Ann's cries following him.

Wills rushed up to his room, and hastily packed the first clothes and essentials that came to hand. Quickly he dressed himself in civilian clothing, throwing his Imperial uniform into the bag. He buckled on his belt and shoved his blaster in it, though he wanted nothing more than to run out into the Corellian night, find Wickham and burn him down.

Revenge could come later.

In ten minutes, he was in his speeder, and racing away from all he had ever known, and the life he had lived.

I drove all night, then took a transport to the other side of the planet, where Charls lived. I found him at the apartment he had taken out when he had dropped out of med school to fulfil his dream of piloting. He took me in for several days. I told him everything that had happened. I told him that I was going to defect to the Rebellion, do what my father had always wanted me to do, and fight against the Empire. Charls, being his usual idealistic self, immediately proclaimed his intention of following me. I didn't care. I needed a friend with me.

I no longer saw the Empire as the epitome of order and stability, only as oppressive and enslaving. It had changed M'Ann from the friendly and caring girl I had known at Carida to the cold fanatic who had killed my father. And maybe in the Rebellion I would come across Wickham some day, and kill him for what he had done to me.

After a few days I returned to the Persecutor. I stayed only long enough to find out from the higher-ranking officers the suspected Rebel sympathisers in the Corellian Sector. I managed to get in touch with Miyaki who had contacted my father, and he gave me all the information I needed, which I passed onto Charls. We would meet each other at New Cov and join the Rebellion.

At the first possible opportunity I hijacked a TIE Advanced model with hyperspace capabilities from the Persecutor's hangar and made my way to New Cov, where I met up with Charls. We then made our way to Hoth, where I met you. And I will take this opportunity to tell you just how sorry I am I insulted you that night. I never really meant it, and now my feelings are so different. They are quite the opposite.

I beg you to trust me. I want you to trust me, for I value your opinion above all else. Please believe me when I say that the Imperial Wills Darcy you will see is but a mask like Wickham's face. I will get you out of here.

Now you know everything. Every word of it is true. Please give my confession a fair hearing. I have not told this story to anyone, save Commander Fitzwilliam. If and when we get out of here, you may confirm my story with him, or with Charls Bingley.

May the Force be with you.

Wills Darcy.

SW notes: Carida - one of the galaxy's primary military training bases. Han Solo also trained there until. It had a mascot moon that got blown up by Han's friend as a prank.
Gotal - humanoid species from Antar Four with a pair of coned horns on their heads and additional sensory organs for energy waves. There's a Gotal in the Mos Eisley Cantina scene in A New Hope. Most try to remain neutral in galactic conflict, though they have no love for the Empire due to its anti-alien views.
Venthan Chassu - Corellian artist who specialised in Selonian nude studies. After his final masterpiece, Palpatine Triumphant which depicted a grinning Emperor on a throne of bones and was labelled 'unImperial' he suddenly died.
Diktat - Corellian Chief of State. The Imperial presence in Corellia makes sure the Diktat is pro-Empire.

Part Thirty-One

Posted on Saturday, 5 February 2000

Charls felt as if a party of Kowakian lizard-monkeys had taken up residence inside his stomach and were madly jumping around. Looking around the room where all the other Comets were either practising in the simulators or relaxing with drinks, he wondered if he was the only one.

If they were normal people they should be nervous. This was the first time the Comets were attacking, rather than playing escort or defense. And ambushing an Imperial convoy of weapons the Alliance needed badly should, to Charls, have the other pilots pacing the room or clutching their heads in terror.

Either he was the only normal person, or everyone was just really good at hiding their emotions.

Clmney Carter and Zri'an Hodge were sharing a seat and drinks in one corner holding what seemed to be an extremely amusing and intimate conversation. Though coupling within squadrons wasn't exactly approved of, it was in no way forbidden. Denny Cathos was trying to mediate another argument between the Servan Fosset and Forster Par'yla without success. He didn't seem to be trying very hard, as the tall Ishori and the furry Bothan seemed to be actually enjoying the argument on some finer point of politics that no one else seemed to know about. Meanwhile in the simulators were Hendri Sanderson and Uid Chamberlyne, clocking up extra practise time for the attack. Mixing among the squadron pilots were members of the bulk freighter's crew, some clustered around the monitor watching a shockball game or just talking to others.

He glanced around to the far corner, where Commander Fitzwilliam and Captain Nyanti Zyol were sitting with drinks in their hands, keeping an eye on the squadron members. They talked quietly to each other, seemingly unconcerned about the coming mission.

Charls found it hard to sit still. Drumming his fingers on the from-chair's arm, he suddenly got up and paced over to the refreshments. Downing a drink, he wandered back and sat back down.

He kept telling himself over and over again that he wasn't afraid. That he was good enough to go out there and return. That he would sweep into the thick of battle, lasers flashing and kill a dozen TIEs. That his skill was so good, that he had nothing to fear.

The more he said it, the more he believed it. He had never seen Death before. Yes, he knew what death was, and he knew that everyone died at some time, but he had never witnessed it. Yes, he had seen dead bodies when he had attended medical school, but he had just stared at the corpse without feeling anything. The bodies had their eyes closed and their faces were peaceful, as if only sleeping and he an intruder who had come upon them as they rested. Though he told himself that these had once been living, breathing beings, he still felt nothing for they were people he had never known.

He let his gaze drift around the room at his fellow pilots. All of them were warm and full of life. Charls could not believe that there was the possibility that some of them he may never see again.

What if he was the one who died?

Charls thought about it, then laughed. He couldn't imagine himself not coming back. He couldn't imagine never seeing Jain or Wills or Lijia or any of his friends again.

"Hey, Charls, what's so funny?" called Clmney, arm around Zri'an's shoulders. "Get over here and bring a couple of drinks!"

Charls waved and complied. Zri'an giggled, slightly tipsy, and Commander Fitzwilliam shot her a warning look. Captain Zyol decided she had had enough of Servan and Forster's argument and took Denny's place in quieting them. Near the wall, the doors of the simulators hissed open and Hendri and Uid climbed out, giving each other hearty congratulations at an obviously successful run.

These guys, dead? Charls asked himself. No way. Can't happen.

"Do you think they know what they're getting into?" asked Commander Ricard Fitzwilliam to the Twi'lek Captain.

Nyanti took a sip of her drink. "No. They're young, they think they're invincible."

The Commander sighed, knowing it was true. "Perhaps it will give them the confidence to make them perform well enough in order to survive."

"Hoping they all survive to the end of this war? You're having delusions of grandeur. Sorry to say this, but I think that Benyt and Darcy have a better chance of getting together than the whole squadron surviving with no fatalities."

Ricard smiled sadly. "Wonder how those two are doing."

"Probably trying to kill each other again."

"I'm serious. Do you think I made a mistake, sending those two off together?"

The former assassin thought. "I don't know. They really do not like working together, but I'd like to think they're smart enough to know that they have to work together in order to succeed."

"I'll drink to that," said the Commander fervently, taking a drink. He looked at the chrono on the wall. "Ten more hours until we exit hyperspace."

The usually cold Captain looked at the pilots cavorting around with the ship's crew and smiled sadly. "Let the children play."

"You never know, they might all come back."

The Twi'lek looked at him. "How often does that happen?"

The Commander looked away. "Not often enough."

SW notes: Kowakian lizard-monkeys - Small animals from Kowak that will laugh at anything. Salacious Crumb, the thing that sits next to Jabba in ROTJ and picks out Threepio's eyes, is a lizard-monkey.

Continued In Next Section