[Ship's Brig, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1022 Hours]

Alecia Vinie sat at the console of her security station, surveying one of the few datapads that were atop her desk. Normally she would have a pile almost a meter high, but over the last few days, since the operation in Chandrila, the reports of general misconduct on the part of the Moning Star's crew had waned. Many in her branch felt it was because she had shown she could effectively make use of her talents in the way of security, but Alecia knew that it had more to do with the fact that people aboard the combat vessel were starting to get wary of death and destruction.

There was a light tap on her door and she looked up to see the bulky form of an army officer in casual fatigues. Her outward expression hadn't changed, but inside she was smiling extravagantly at her visitor. "Lieutenant Wielsan, how good to see you again. And to what do I owe this unusual, but certainly pleasant, surprise?"

"Well, Lieutenant," said the bulky man, his arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the doorway, "I just thought that I would see what you were up to. It's been fairly quiet the past couple of weeks, and I wanted to make sure that you were healing alright from the wounds you received in the boarding suppression."

She allowed herself a small smile, one that could hardly be seen by anyone who didn't know her facial mannerisms that well. She looked back over at the datapad she had been studying, a ploy to try and show that she was disinterested in the handsome officer; she didn't think it really worked. "I've healed considerably, the bacta took care of most of the injuries. However, I've still had some problems with getting the physical aptitude that I used to have back. I don't seem to heal physically that well."

"I think you heal rather nicely," he said with a grin.

Alecia turned back to him and just looked at the officer with a bland, expressionless glance. "Is there something I can do for you, Lieutenant? I have a good deal of work that is calling my name."

"I thought perhaps you would like to go to dinner, my treat."

"Lieutenant Wielsan, are you asking me to go out on a date with you?"

"Yes."

She offered a small, friendly smile before she let her self-composure take hold again. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm just not into the concept of ‘dating.' Sorry."

The young man looked a little hurt, as if he hadn't contemplated the possibility of her saying no, but he quickly covered it with a smile of his own. "Then how about dinner as friends, with no sense of obligation to be anything more than that?"

She lightly shook her head. "Sorry, I just am not one to socialize. It's nothing personal aimed at you, I just don't feel very comfortable around people in a social setting."

"Well, at least I made the offer," he said. He turned slightly and gave a mock salute with his left hand. "Until later, Lieutenant."

Alecia continued to look at the datapad, but out of the corner of her eye she watched as Wielsan left the security offices. She allowed herself a small smile given that no one was around, and then turned her full attention back to the datapad in her hand.

"Lieutenant?" came the voice of her assistant chief, Telan Ileic, a tall and lean woman from the once paradise-like planet of Naboo.

"Yes, Lan?"

"It's almost 1030 Hours, Ma'am, time for your morning meeting."

Alecia looked over at her chronometer and gave a little frown. She hated these meetings, but since the operation in Chandrila, they had been a daily occurrence. Admiral Ull believed that none of the ships under his command could afford to be boarded without some sort of special operations team ready to repeal the boarders, and while the Star was usually assigned to other duties that left her out of the influence of the main body of the Third Fleet, she was still, technically, part of Ull's forces.

"Yes, yes," she muttered. She got up out of her chair and picked up a datapad from atop the security monitor. "Off I go, then. Watch over the place, Lan, I'll be back shortly, relatively speaking."

"Aye-aye, Ma'am."

Alecia strolled out the door and turned to her right for the nearest lift car, her lekku twitching slightly as she wrapped them around shoulders. Normally, she would prefer to have them drape down behind her, a sign that she was not so much amongst friends but rather colleagues, but because of their length and weight, the brain-tails presented a problem in face-to-face combat. Twi'lek usually wrapped their brain-tails around their shoulders or in front as a show of trust and friendship; Alecia did so because of combative necessity.

She stepped through the lift and pressed the button for the floor where the command staff's conference room was located. She hated meetings as a rule, but this one in particular she wanted nothing to do with. Technically speaking, onboard policing operations fell under the jurisdiction of the Security branch, but Ull wanted a more "highly-trained" response unit should another boarding ever take place. As such, his staff had devised that such a unit should comprise a mixture of the branches best suited for hand-to-hand and personnel weapons combat aboard each ship. Aboard the Star, that was Security, Army, and Intelligence.

It also meant the possibility of all three, let alone the Navy, stepping on each other's toes when it came to whom to answer to.

The lift doors opened and she walked out into the corridor, noticing a couple of the other members of the sitting board outside the conference room. She was about to go up to then when the doors to the room opened and a hand beckoned the two people inside; Alecia quickly followed suit and walked into the room briskly, finding her usual seat near the far end of the table and sitting down.

At the head of the table, as usual, was Captain Dave Ru'kaart, commanding officer of the Morning Star and the end-all authority aboard the ship for everything. He was a fair man, but quite stern in his military protocol; he would make a great admiral if the opportunity ever came about.

To his right was a short and tiny woman with dark brown skin and features that would make her a decent model if not for the constant expressionless face. Many people who first saw her thought her to be some sort of administrative support staff, such as member of the quartermasters corps, but she was, in fact, Lieutenant Colonel Elise Nosnern, regimental commander of the Army troops stationed aboard the Star. Her tiny frame deceived many an Imperial in the field who thought her an easy target; if only they knew she had taken out an entire squad by herself.

Across from her and to Ru'kaart's left was a magenta-skinned woman in her mid-thirties, a blank expression on her face and black hair that seemed to flow like silk. She seemed to give an air of nervousness and insecurity, but she was Captain Sooli Kitz, the resident Intelligence Officer aboard the cruiser and the direct link between the command staff and NRI. Rumor also had it that she was frequently seen with Baden and Michadick, as if the trio were inseparable.

"Well," said Ru'kaart without any sort of preamble. "Have we reached any further ideas on who should make up the unit?"

"Well," commented Nosnern, "the hand-to-hand instructor for the regiment is near the top of his field. I have a couple of others from the support staff who would be feasible for this unit, but I would prefer to keep the actual battalions and companies uninvolved. Should the need arise for us to deploy, the regiment would not miss a weapons instructor, but a squad sergeant or a platoon commander would be sorely felt."

"That makes sense. Captain Kitz?"

"NRI resources aboard ship are limited to just a couple of dozen operatives; I can field a fourth of them in the unit, depending upon what kind of expertise we want to utilize."

"Excellent, that should be enough. Lieutenant Vinie?"

"I have about three who are acceptable for the unit, all are highly trained security personnel and have had previous experience in ground-based operations while in the Rangers. One of them happens to be officer-in-charge during the night shift and is quite adaptable to situations. He would make an excellent addition to the unit."

"Sounds as if we've got a unit, then. When can we put it into effect?"

"Well, first we have to decide what the chain of command would be. These are a dozen of our best in-your-face fighters cumulated from three separate branches of our armed forces. Someone's going to be the team leader, and that's going to cause a bit of a problem initially."

"The chief's right, Captain," pipped in Nosnern. "We're essentially putting together a team of conflicting branches; the branches were created because each were to administer to specific functions that couldn't be done by the other branches. It's a bit of a jumble."

"I know that, Colonel, and while I disagree with the concept in general, I have little choice. Third Fleet Command has made the decision and we are going to adhere to it. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

He nodded slightly and turned back to Alecia. "When can your people meet with the team?"

"Immediately."

He then turned each to Kitz and Nosnern. "And your people?"

"As soon as you want, sir," said Kitz.

"The same for mine, Captain."

"Good. Have all three groups meet in the main combat training room at 1400 Hours to begin training. We'll work on the particulars later. Anything else to discuss?"

"Actually," spoke up Kitz, "I have something. There are a few pilots in both Blue and Red who have experience in ground combat and hand-to-hand; shouldn't they be considered?"

"Well, if we're to a point where we're being boarded, it would no doubt be when we're in the middle of a battle. I somehow think that the pilots would be a bit busy in combat."

"Point."

He nodded again and checked the chronometer on his wrist. "Well, this is the first time this meeting has run this short. Unless there's any other points to talk about, I suggest we adjourn for the time being."

"Actually, I do have one more thing, sir."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"Who's going to be training them?"

"She has a point, sir," commented Nosnern. "Each of these people have a tremendous amount of hand-to-hand and personal combat experience, but in order to be part of a team they need an external instructor. And, sir, I would suggest someone who is not involved in any of the three branches affiliated with this unit."

"You have a suggestion, then?"

"Yes, sir. I understand Lieutenant Murshid has previous experience with covert operations, particular with General Madine's undercover teams. He could be a great asset and instructor to the unit."

"Sir, if I may," spoke Kitz. "My, uh, superiors have asked that Murshid not be put in this type of situation. He has sensitive knowledge that we feel is best left undisturbed."

"Sithing Spooks," muttered Alecia under her breath, too low for anyone to hear.

"Very well, then. Who else?"

"Lieutenant Baden is a good choice. He has some, er, unorthodox tactics which can best be implemented by this very unorthodox unit. If Sweet was still with us I'd suggest him."

"Lieutenant Baden sounds like a good choice, then, so far as it goes. Lieutenant Vinie, please inform him and instruct to report to the training room at 1350 Hours. I'll inform Colonel St.Clair that he'll be unavailable for patrol duty for a while."

"I'm sure Biggs'll jump at the chance to get out of patrol duty," quipped Alecia with a half-smile. "All pilots hate patrol duty."

"Yes, well, such is life. In any event, the meeting is adjourned."

[Baden & Maxfield's Quarters, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1157 Hours]

"Biggs, calm down."

"Calm down?" Rob paced back and forth in his cabin, clenching his fists tightly in a way to control the anger building in him. "I don't believe this, I do not believe this! I go to all the trouble to keep this quiet, and it finally comes out, and all you have to say is for me to calm down?"

"What's the big deal? Security already knows about it, and from what you told me Schmitty knows about it as well. It's not as if it's something to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed of it; it's just that this is something private. Steve, you, and a few others in security know about Akempo and my swords. I would like to keep it that way if possible."

"No one's saying you can't. Just because you help to train them doesn't mean you have to show them every little secret about you. I'm not even the one who suggested you, Biggs, but I can't say that I disagree with the suggestion. Can you name someone else from either the Navy or Starfighter Command who has some sort of background in this area?"

"Murshid."

"Rejected for, uh, confidential reasons. Don't ask."

He shook his head and ran a hand through his spiked hair. "Alecia, I am a pilot. I don't have time for this; I'm in the sims everyday when I'm not on patrol, and when I am on patrol, I'm, you know, flying!"

"Not anymore. The captain gave his approval for you to be temporarily reassigned."

"Argh!" He almost pulled some of his hair out. "Fine, whatever. I'll help train them, but just remember that I'm not the best choice for this and I have no idea why I was given this responsibility. When do I report?"

"1350 Hours in the main training room. The twelve operatives will be there at 1400."

"Well," said Rob in a sarcastic tone. "This is going to be fun."

"He's where?" asked Neill Magill, his body shooting upright in the chair he occupied.

Kelly placed his hands on his desk in a mock resignation, folding one of his legs over the other. "I know, I didn't believe it at first either, but the captain said until further notice he's going to be engaged with this new unit the higher-ups are forming. Training them or something."

"Hmm." The younger man rested his chin on his right hand. "Well, at least we're not in the middle of some operation; but what happens if we do become involved in one?"

"Well," said Kelly, leaning back a little in his chair. "Chad Maxfield just joined the unit, which makes thirteen combat pilots total. I was going to place him as the odd-man-out in Murshid's element, but since Baden's going to be unavailable for the time being he'll be the other half of the pair."

"Didn't Command say something about Blue getting a new pilot as well?"

"I've heard rumors, but Healey's got no definite information on the subject. More to the point, however, is that we're on standby and we're not going to have to worry about operations for the moment. It would be a good time for some additional time in the simulators."

Neill gave a sadistic smile. "Ooooh, more sim time, I'm sure they're going to love that. Hehehe."

Kelly almost cringed at his XO's words. "Neill, you're scaring me, stop that."

"Sorry, sir."

Kelly shook his head and took a datapad out of the desk. "Okay, then starting tomorrow we'll begin a focused regimen of sim time. Got anything else for me?"

"Well, it has mostly to do with Baden and Layne, though it's not critical."

"What did Pip do this time, spill more whiskey on his flightsuit and somehow managed to spill it on Biggs' jacket as well? That kid drinks way too much on his off hours."

"No, nothing quite so bad. It has more to do with their performance over the last weeks. They've been really up there in terms of skill lately, and the way they handled themselves during the Battle of Chandrila was evident of how much they have advanced during their time in the unit." Neill leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the top of Kelly's desk much to the older man's displeasure. "I think they're deserving of a promotion."

"Hmm. Well, I'll agree with you on that they certainly have been very active and good in the cockpit, but I don't think they've reached quite the level of promotion yet. Especially Baden; we promote him and he's going to be fourth in command of the squadron, that's a lot of responsibility."

"He can handle it."

Kelly shook his head a little and brought up Rob Baden's file on the datapad. He scrolled down past the biographical information and looked at the list of citations and commendations received, as well as the service record. Indeed, he had been part of the squadron in some major incidents, in particular the battles that marked the loss of the Happy Jack and the operation to take Anaxes. He'd advanced far in his time within the unit, but Kelly was worried more about his ability to handle responsibility on a grander scale.

"I just don't know, Neill. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Understood, sir."

[Chelsey Maxfield's A-wing, Space, Anaxes System, 0420 Hours]

Chelsey suppressed a small yawn as she wove her A-wing along the perimeter assigned to the Morning Star. The last week had been virtually uneventful, both while she was on duty and while she was having her downtime in the Fishtank. The battle in Chandrila had really hurt the cruiser and ship's morale, and while she would normally be glad for a little peace and quiet, it was verging on the point of a funeral pyre.

Suddenly, as if in a silent answer to her thoughts, the radio crackled to life and the speaker in her headset came alive.

"Twelve, this is Nine."

Chelsey gave a small smile and ventured a look to port at the A-wing beside her. Normally she would be flying with usual wingmate, Jamie, but he was stuck in the simulators undergoing one of gauntlets that Major Magill had set up. Instead she had drawn Rob as her auxiliary wingmate, and considering he had just spent a week out of the cockpit he was eager to get some flight time. He didn't tell her why he wasn't on the flight line, but she was glad to have him as a wingmate nonetheless.

"Go ahead, Nine."

"I'm picking up five unknowns coming in from a vector relative to the Core. Can't tell if they're Reb--er, NR or Imps."

Chelsey tuned her CMD over to sensors and brought up the target display of the closest contact. "IFF's not working for me, either. We better alert the Star."

"Morning Star Control to Red Twelve."

"Looks like someone aboard already noticed." She clicked her radio frequency over to the main combat channel. "This is Red Twelve, MSC."

"We're picking up some unknown contacts coming in at your five o'clock low, please confirm."

"Roger that, we were just getting ready to contact you. We're having trouble resolving them. Any help you can provide would be appreciated."

"Stand by, Twelve." There was a long pause before the voice of Jack Uoart came back over Chelsey's headset. "Bogies have been identified as four Assault Gunboats and one Missile Boat. Intercept and detain, over."

"Copy that, MSC, intercept course already punched in." She set the throttle to full power and sped out into the blackness of space, the A-wing off her port side matching her speed and course. "Estimated time to interception of targets, four minutes. Red Twelve out." She clicked back to the patrol frequency she shared with Rob and focused on the intercept course. A minute later her speakers crackled again.

"That's strange," came Rob's voice over the channel.

"What's strange?"

"Well, I was working up an approach profile on the Missile Boat; best to take out the heavy hitter soon in the engagement, no? But, the Boat's shields aren't at full strength. In fact, they're dropping off fast."

Chelsey flipped her target display over to the Missile Boat and confirmed Rob's assessment. She also noticed that the target's hull had been damaged. Utilizing her sensors she assessed that the Gunboats were actually attacking the Missile Boat, though she was uncertain as to why they would be attacking their own comrade.

"Twelve to Morning Star Control."

"Control here, Twelve."

"Commander, we've determined that the Gunboats are attacking the Missile Boat. Requesting instructions, over."

A brief pause answered her before the familiar and gruff voice of Captain Ru'kaart replaced that of Uoart's. "It looks as though we might have a possible defection on our hands, Twelve. For the time being I want you to assist the Missile Boat in any possible way you can. However," continued the captain, "if the pilot of that ship makes even the slightest move that you don't like, you are authorized to engage it. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, sir. Red Twelve out." She clicked again back over to the shared frequency with Rob. "Okay, Biggs, here's what we're going to do: move in to take out target Alpha while I move around and engage target Delta, helping to take the heat off that Boat. But first, fire off a pair of missiles at target Beta while I do the same on target Gamma; that'll keep them busy enough while we work on the aforementioned targets. Got it?"

"Ready to rock, Twelve."

Chelsey watched as the distance between the A-wings and the Imperial ships dropped to two point three klicks. She switched her targeting control over to missiles and watched as the reticle turned bright red in her heads-up display. "Engage!"

Two pairs of missiles shot out from the A-wings and headed for their targets at a speed faster than the pilots could achieve. At the same time both she and Rob moved in to engage the other two Gunboats with their cannons, firing at long-range to make them break off their attack on the Missile Boat.

"I've got a Gunboat making a run for the Missile Boat, Twelve. It's the one I hit with missiles."

"Get on it, Nine, I'm on target Gamma."

The two A-wings split apart, Chelsey's going towards the Gunboat closest to her. She gave a quick glance at the sensors and noticed that the Missile Boat was no longer doing evasive maneuvers; it had turned around was actually engaging one of the Imperial fighters. She watched for a moment as a series of green laser hits splashed against the shields of one of the Gunboats and then started to rake against the hull. A moment later a pair of missiles shot out from the Boat's warhead rack and slammed into the Gunboat, blowing it apart.

Chelsey blinked slightly but pushed her inner praise aside as she focused on the Imperial ship she was chasing. Its shields had already been weakened from the missile impacts she gave it earlier, which made engaging it a whole lot easier.

The Gunboat tried to maneuver out of the way, but Chelsey's A-wing had the edge in agility and maneuverability that the Imperial strike craft lacked. She soon started firing her lasers into the fighter, staying with it as it juked and moved around. One laser bolt blasted straight through what remained of the fighter's shields and went on through the armor of the port engine, igniting the cooling system and causing the engine to explode. The added heat caused the nearest fuel cells to detonate, making the Gunboat just cease to exist.

"Sith, that was one hell of a shot. Two down for the count."

"Make that three," commented Rob as an explosion brightened the blackness of space.

"Good work. Time to finish off the last one."

"Too late, Twelve." Another explosion accented his comment. "Seems the Missile Boat took out the last one."

"How kind. Okay, here we go, keep sharp." She switched the frequency over to the main channel and directed the communications towards the last Imperial fighter. "Attention Missile Boat, this is Captain Maxfield of the New Republic Armed Forces. You will power down your weapons and shields immediately."

"He's complying," commented Rob.

Chelsey moved in behind the Boat and took up a safe distance as guard, Rob mimicking her movements. "Imperial pilot, you will proceed to our cruiser and prepare for a tractor landing. Any deviation from your assigned course will result in me blowing you out of the stars. Got it?"

There was no reply. Chelsey rechecked her comm settings. "I repeat, do you understand?"

"Maybe he's got a bad transmitter, Twelve," quipped Rob.

"Imperial pilot, if your ship is unable to transmit, please wag your wings to show you understand my instructions."

A moment passed and the Missile Boat wagged its wings back and forth, then turned slightly to the port and headed towards the Morning Star, the A-wings following close behind. In a matter of minutes the trio of fighters came into range of the cruiser's docking tractor beams and the New Republic ships maintained a close guard as the Imperial fighter cut its engines and waited to be pulled in. Once it started to move in towards the hanger, Chelsey revved her engines up again and resumed the patrol route, Rob following closely.

[Starboard Hanger Bay, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 0445 Hours]

Alecia Vinie had her security troops spread out around the hanger bay, taking up every possible position to cover the Missile Boat as it landed. She had momentarily thought about deploying Team Hawkbat, but they still needed some more training before they could be effectively put into the field.

"Lieutenant," said a voice from behind her, belonging to Captain Ru'kaart. "Are your troops in position?"

"Yes, sir. If the pilot so much as breathes the wrong way, we'll take them down."

"Good. Keep sharp."

"Sir."

A moment later the tractor beam holding the Missile Boat brought the ship through the magcon field and set it down on the deck, a loud metal clang accompanying the action. The tractor beam disconnected and a group of security personnel moved in; Alecia noticed that a few other personnel, such as the pilots, mechanics, and other support personnel were moving in to get a better look at the Imperial strike bomber.

"Everyone stay back," said Alecia to no avail. She took a deep breath and raised her voice. "Get back!" People jumped, but they obeyed.

While the others moved back, the security teams moved in even more, taking up positions to cover the cockpit from every possible angle. Almost as if on cue, the canopy of the fighter began to open up and two black-clad hands were shown, palms open and raised to indicate that they weren't holding any kind of weapons. The canopy finished opening and the pilot sat in the seat, wearing the standard Imperial pilot's black flightsuit and survival helmet.

"Stand up, nice and slow," instructed Alecia, her rifle aimed at the pilot's chest. "Don't make any sudden movements or you're going to be feeling a new sensation in your body."

The pilot stood up slowly and just stood there, making sure that Alecia continued to see all that she could.

"Now, take off the helmet and set it down on the seat slowly. Don't even think about reaching for a weapon."

The pilot reached up and undid the hookup of the survival helmet, a small sound of compressed air escaping as the seal was broken. The pilot pulled off the helmet slowly with his back turned to Alecia; she could tell that the pilot was a male by the slight stubble on the side of his face and chin. He was bending down so he could set the helmet atop the seat of the Missile Boat before he began to stood upright once again. He turned around, very slowly it seemed, and looked at Alecia directly, a slight smile on his face.

Alecia curbed the impulse to gasp as she saw the face of the pilot, especially the ginger-colored hair and darkness in his eyes. However, several of the other personnel around her--including her own troops--didn't hold in their shock as they recognized the pilot.

"Hello all," said Paul Sweet. "Any chance I can get my old quarters back?"

"Colonel Sweet!" said Ru'kaart, reminding Alecia that he was still next to her. "Just where in the name of the Force have you been? And now, months later, you show up in an Imperial fighter, wearing an Imperial flightsuit. You have some explaining to do."

"Yes, sir. I am aware that I will need to be debriefed. But, for the moment, can I use the refreshers? I've been cooped up in that flying warhead launcher for good while."

"Of course." Ru'kaart turned to Alecia who still had her rifle aimed at the pilot's mid-section, training dictating her actions despite her feelings. "Lieutenant, please see to it that Colonel Sweet is taken to a holding room. No one is to be given access except per my authorization."

"Understood, sir. Yansie, Ulic, Omaley, form a detail, move the colonel to holding room one."

Ru'kaart turned back to Sweet as two men and a woman ran up towards the Imperial craft. "You understand my caution, Colonel."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Please go with the guards; they will make sure you're well treated. Someone will be by shortly to debrief you."

"Understood."

Alecia walked over to the three security personnel already detailed to escort Sweet and took up her position with them. "Okay, let's move," she said to the others and the five of them began to walk towards the lift doors. She was very much aware of almost everyone in the hanger bay looking on as the group walked by, but there was nothing she could do about it. She also knew that within an hour, everyone aboard the Morning Star would know that Lieutenant Colonel Paul Sweet, former leader of Blue Squadron, was back from the great beyond and under house arrest.

As the doors to the lift closed behind them she gave a small internal sigh. Force, I hate my job sometimes.

[Captain's Ready Room, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 0601 Hours]

Captain Ru'kaart looked up from his datapad as the doors opened and in walked Captain Kitz and Lieutenant Vinie, their expressions a bit grim and somber. He looked between the two of them for a few moments and when it became evident that neither were going to speak he sat the datapad on the desk gently. "I take it that it's more complicated than we had suspected?"

"It is, sir," said Kitz. "He's given me some, uh, sensitive information that I just confirmed with NRI. Apparently he's been on a mission for the NRI without having been given the clearance to tell anyone about it, including his subordinates and his superiors. He's been checked out by the technical agents I have aboard ship and they've confirmed everything he's said." She handed him a datapad. "Everything he's told me, including the background, is on there. However, because of the sensitivity of the information, I will require that it not be discussed beyond the three of us."

Ru'kaart looked at her with an expression much like that of frustration. "Captain, no offense intended, but the need of operational security can sometime make me want to strangle people at Command."

"I understand completely, sir."

"I'm sure you do. Now, then," he said as he turned his head towards Vinie. "If the sensitivity is so high, why are you involved? Once again, no offense."

"None taken, sir. I'm involved because of reasons pertaining to his security situation. He was gone for months, and while Intelligence has given their approval of his explanation, I still consider it a bit of a situation."

"Fair point." He skimmed through the datapad that Kitz had given him. "Well, according to the explanation, he acted with approval that he took as being reliable. I can't say I would have done different in his shoes." He set the datapad down on the table next to his and looked at Vinie. "Let him go."

"Yes, sir, but I would like to voice my concerns."

"So noted, Lieutenant. However, based on the information provided, Sweet is not a risk to the security of the New Republic. Let him go." He turned again to Kitz and found her gaze with his. "Contact Command directly and find out what they want to do with the colonel. Obviously, he can't be put back in command of a unit he's been out of for such a long time. However, if it's possible, we would like to retain him as a pilot."

"Yes, sir, I'll get on it right away."

"Anything else?" They both shook their heads. "Good, then I'll talk you two later at the meeting. Oh, and make sure Lieutenant Baden is present; I want an exact rundown of what's going on with Team Hawkbat."

"Understood, sir," said Kitz as she turned around and walked out, Vinie fast on her heels.

Ru'kaart picked up the datapad again and reread the statement taken by Sweet. He shook his head at the reality of it all and seriously wondered if at times NRI was more trouble than it was worth in the grand scheme of things.

Of course, he would never tell that to Admiral Ull's Intelligence officer; the idea of telling a Wookiee that he was trouble was one that tended to end in severed arms.

[Command Briefing Room, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1031 Hours]

Rob looked around uneasily as Ru'kaart and the others sat down at the table. He had never been here--for good reason, too, as he was a relatively low-ranked pilot--and the thought of sitting in with the captain was not something he wanted to do. He wasn't necessarily afraid of the man, but Ru'kaart did have a tendency to be intimidating to his subordinates, which was what a captain needed to do on occasion.

"Lieutenant Baden," said Ru'kaart.

Rob snapped back into focus and looked at the older man. "Sir!"

"I want to extend my appreciation for your help in this unusual assignment. I know you're not a member of the Army any longer, but it was necessary to have someone from outside the three branches associated with this unit to help coordinate them as a team."

"I understand, sir."

"Good. So," continued Ru'kaart, settling in his chair. "Give us a run down of how they're doing."

"Sir." Rob moved forward in the chair a little and rested his hands on the table. "After having spent a week with Team Hawkbat, I have determined that all personnel involved are of the highest caliber that the Army, Security Forces, and Intelligence has to offer. Each have backgrounds in hand-to-hand combat, small arms, explosives disposal, demolition, and sniper ability. Initially, they were resistant to the idea of working together, but they've begun to really focus in terms of a whole rather than as individuals. I'm afraid there's very little else I can teach them or offer; they're ready for internal leadership."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Any recommendations for team leader?"

"I'd throw my money behind Lieutenant Anres, sir. She has the most seniority, she's got the rank, and besides being an Intelligence operative, she also has a background in the Security Forces."

"Kitz?"

The young woman gave a slight nod in the direction of Rob while she spoke. "Anres has more field time than anyone else in the unit, and she's proven herself. I stand by the recommendation."

"Vinie? Nosnern?" Both women nodded in agreement and Ru'kaart turned back towards Rob. "Alright, then. Thank you for your time, Lieutenant, I'm sure you have some other things to attend to."

"Yes, sir." He rose for the chair and headed for the door, but stopped short, turning around. "Sir? If I may speak freely?"

"Granted."

"Is it true that Rogue's back?"

Ru'kaart blinked a little and was silent for a moment before responding. "Lieutenant, normally I would refer you to your CO, Colonel St.Clair, for clarification of that question, but considering that this is big news for you flyboys, I feel obligated to indulge just this once. Yes, he's back, and he'll be receiving his orders pertaining to posting within the day. For the time being, however, he's in an unused executive suite, ES-5, in case you would like to visit."

Rob gave a slight bow. "Thank you, sir." He turned towards the door again and walked out of the room, turning to the right and walking down the corridor to the lift. As he stepped through the doors and pushed the control to the level were the pilots were billeted he sighed, a wave of relief passing through him. Thank the Force that's over with.

The lift stopped and the doors opened to another corridor. Rob stepped out and walked briskly to his cabin, his mind still reeling from the reality of the last week's events, and especially with the short-lived dogfight he had earlier in the day. Running a hand through his hair, he began to punch in the sequence to his cabin when he caught something in the corner of his eye.

Turning around he looked up and down the corridor, but saw nothing. Thinking it best to err on the side of caution he walked up the corridor and looked around the corner, but again saw nothing. He gave a shrug and walked back to his cabin, punching in the sequence again. The doors opened and he walked through into the blackness of his home, going over to his bunk and collapsing on it. The doors shut silently and the room fill into darkness, Rob already starting to drift off. His last conscious thought was that he was thankful he wasn't on duty for another ten hours.

[Personnel Corridor "C-12", Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1043 Hours]

The lone figure in the shadows watched as Rob Baden, pilot of the New Republic, searched the corridor in an attempt to find him. He continued to watch as the pilot looked around the corner to the other part of the corridor, and then as he walked into his cabin. Once the doors shut, the lone figured walked out of the security foyer and smoothly walked down the corridor to the lift, moving inside.

He pressed the option for the level he wanted and waited as the lift descended gently. A few moments later, the lift stopped and the doors opened into a corridor sparsely populated with computer input terminals and a security station. He walked down the corridor swiftly, checking over his shoulder as he did so. He continued to walk until he reached the end of the corridor and stopped in front of a door. Taking out a mini-datapad, he held it up against the electronic lock of the door and punched in a program override. A few minutes later the lock clicked off and the door slid open.

He walked through, checking behind him once more, and moved forward towards the single computer input station against the wall across from the door. Placing his hands on the input keys, he started running a search string until he found what he wanted. Grinning to himself, he began to activate a command program that very few people knew about.

Two minutes later, the program was finished and the lone figure did a system wipe to erase his entry commands. He placed the mini-datapad in his pocket and shut off the access to the terminal, checking once more to make sure no one was around, and left the room.

[Main Bridge, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1100 Hours]

"Commander Abodar!"

The Mon Calamari sitting in the command chair turned to look at Uoart. "What is it?"

"Sir, someone just activated our Holonet transmitter."

"Who's broadcasting?" asked Abodar as he walked over to the communications console.

"I can't tell, sir."

Abodar's large eyes blinked in a Human approximation of disbelief. "Say that again?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, sir. See this?" Uoart pointed to a section of his screen. "The command authorization is blank."

"Wait, wait, stop." Abodar waved his fins around lightly. "Is there any possibility that this transmission was sent using a code sequence assigned to Intelligence?"

Uoart shook his head. "Negative on that, sir. That would show up as something, even just 'NRI'." The active terminal suddenly became quiet again. "Transmission complete. Looks like it was encrypted... the routing says it was sent to a Holonet node somewhere in the Core."

"Any indication of where it was sent from?"

"No, sir. Logs have been wiped clean; if I hadn't been watching my terminal, no one would have known."

Abodar leaned over the console and pressed a key. "Bridge to Captain Ru'kaart."

A brief moment later the gruff and serious voice of Dave Ru'kaart sounded from the small speaker imbedded in the console. "Ru'kaart here."

"Sir," said Abodar as calmly as he could, "we've found something that I think you should have a look at. Uoart noticed an unauthorized Holonet transmission. According to his analysis it's of a protocol and code sequence that are unfamiliar to us, as well as having been directed to a destination in the Core."

"Send the analysis down to the conference, Commander."

"One moment, sir," said Uoart as his hands danced over the input keys. A moment later a red light illuminated on the top left edge of the communications console with the words "Command Briefing Room" under it. "Sir, it should be showing on your monitor."

A few muffled voices sounded from the speaker, one of them gruff and deep, while most of the others had a lighter sound to them. After a full minute had passed, Ru'kaart was heard once again through the speaker. "Commander Abodar."

"Right here, sir."

"Initiate a level one security lock-down; we have an intruder aboard."

"At once, sir." Abodar rushed from the console as fast as he could and walked over to Juv'lea, the tactical officer, and began to punch some buttons on his input terminal. "Lieutenant, level one lock-down; notify all security stations and have sensors make a full-power scan of the system."

"Aye-aye, sir," said the Bothan, his fur bristling at the orders.

Ru'kaart was still giving orders. "Commander Uoart, patch me through to Vice Admiral Ull immediately; he'll need to know about this."

[Command Briefing Room, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1118 Hours]

"And that's the short and tall of it, Admiral. My Comm Officer picked it up on his systems less than thirty minutes ago, and after having consulted with the resident Intelligence Officer as well as my Chief of Security, I ordered a level one security lock-down of the ship. Then I called you, sir."

Ru'kaart watched as the miniature holo of Vice Admiral Corben Ull scratched his chin in thoughtfulness. Normally he disliked dealing with flag officers, but Ull was the type who actually got involved in the situations that he put his subordinates in. Including this one.

"Threat analysis."

"It could be very high, sir. We have no way of determining what was in the transmission; it could very well be anything related to the operations of the Morning Star in specific, or our fleet here at Anaxes in general." Ru'kaart scratched behind his ear a little, a small spot itching. "I'm having Kitz and Vinie coordinating an investigation into the transmission with Uoart's help, but I don't think it looks good, sir. Uoart is the best Comm Officer I've ever seen, and he's been in the business since the Clone Wars; if he doesn't know how it occurred, then I doubt anyone could."

"Understood, Captain. I'm got a conference transmission with the C-in-C in a few minutes, but if you find anything concrete, get a hold of me at once."

"Aye-aye, sir. Morning Star out." He switched off the holo-transmitter and turned to look at the three women sitting at the table. He looked at the woman to his right and gave a small smile. "Colonel Nosnern, I hate to sound rude, but..."

"I understand, sir; this doesn't relate to me or my soldiers." She stood up and walked to the doorway, stopping just before the sensors detected her presence. "But, I'll keep my eyes open in case something comes up."

"Thank you, Colonel," said Ru'kaart as the woman walked out of the room, the doors shutting silently behind her. "Now then," he said, turning back to look at Kitz and Vinie. "Ideas?"

"Whoever sent the transmission must have a background in communications, or at the very least, computer programming," started Kitz. "To disguise a transmission this way takes a lot of talent, not just training. Not only that, but they have to know their way around a Mon Cal cruiser, second generation."

Ru'kaart looked at Vinie. "Lieutenant, any ideas?"

"Yes, sir, but you're not going to like it."

"Indulge me, Lieutenant."

The young officer took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, her lekku twitching just a bit. "Well, sir, based on what Captain Kitz just confirmed about the situation concerning the supposed intruder, I would have to place my stakes on a military officer who has opportunity and background necessary to do these things."

"And who would that person be?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Sweet."

"You can't be serious."

"Think about it." She moved forward in her chair and rested her arms on the surface of the conference table. "He shows up just before this occurs; he has a background in covert operations that we know of, he's given Kitz a story about an NRI operation that was ‘off-the-books,' and he's worked for the Empire in the past."

"So have several men and women aboard this ship, Lieutenant, and throughout the New Republic," Ru'kaart reminded her. "And what you state is nothing more than circumstantial, having no basis in fact."

"It may very well be circumstantial, sir, but it does fit the facts as they are right now." She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. "I request permission to question him in this regard."

"Absolutely not."

"At least let me place a guard on him, then."

Ru'kaart sat silent for a moment, thinking hard about the situation, then turned to look at Kitz. "How thorough was the check you made into his background, Captain."

"Top notch, sir."

He turned back to Vinie once again and shook his head. "No. Not until--and unless--he gives us a reason to believe he is involved in this; thus far, he has not."

"Yes, sir."

"What I do want you to do, however, is place details at all main computer and communications input terminals that are normally left either unoccupied or sparsely populated. If the intruder did this once, they may well try to do it again."

"Understood, sir."

"Captain, I want you to get together with Uoart and work out a program that will automatically flag any transmissions that are unauthorized. If they pull this stunt again, we'll be able to track who it is and take them down."

Kitz gave a nod. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Make sure you keep me informed."

[Personnel Corridor "C-12", Morning Star, Anaxes System, 0103 Hours]

He looked out at the darkened corridor, checking to make sure that there was no one nearby to see him, and stalked out into the open. As he walked over to the lift, his mind reeled with the ideas and thoughts pouring through it. He grinned to himself, trying to control the sense of superiority that he was feeling; everything was working the way it was supposed to, and that meant soon he would be back where he belonged and off this oceanic-looking cruiser.

He entered the lift and selected a level he knew wasn't under watch by security personnel. Humming to himself an ancient ditty, he waited as the lift descended, gradually coming to a stop and the doors opening before him. He stepped out, the noise of the hanger bay filling his ears, and he gave another grin as he walked over to a computer access terminal on the far end of the bay.

After all, he thought to himself, who would be stupid enough to engage in illegal activities in an area populated by most of the Starfighter Command personnel?

Punching up a command window, he initiated the program he had run the previous day. As he went through the sequence in the exact same way, he initiated another program to run with the first. It only took him a matter of minutes, and when he was done he put the datapad back in his packet and walked back to the lift again.

And this time everyone saw me do it... yet none know just what I did.

[Main Bridge, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 0921 Hours]

Uoart slapped his hand against the console. "Got it!"

Sooli Kitz ran up to the communications console and placed a hand on the back of Uoart's chair as she leaned over. She looked at the the monitor and grinned. "That's our boy, alright. Did you find out where it came from?"

"Yes, ma'am, port hanger bay, terminal three. The transmission was made just a few minutes ago."

"Good work, Jack." She pressed a button on the console and a moment later the image of Alecia Vinie appeared on the monitor. "Lieutenant Vinie."

"Captain Kitz, what can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Vinie, we've just tracked another transmission, this time within a few minutes and to the exact location of where it was sent. Do you have surveillance in the port hanger bay?"

"Of course," said the tan woman on the monitor. She was already looking off screen, her right arm moving. "What terminal?"

"Terminal station three," said Uoart beside Sooli. "It happened just a few minutes ago, so whoever was at the station five minutes before now should be the one we're looking for."

"Just a moment and I'll pipe the records up there so you can see as well." Her face disappeared on the monitor and a stilled image of the port hanger bay filled the vacancy. Several maintenance personnel were busy working on various starfighter and transport craft and the blurred image of a Bothan yelling at someone confirmed that Frask Yak'ney was indeed on duty.

"Terminal Three is at the far end of this shot, near the lift," commented the disembodied voice of Vinie. "Hold on while I zoom in and enhance."

The blurred figures suddenly got clearer and much larger as the image was zoomed in. It seemed to settle on a man with is back to the recording device as he was bent over the terminal; the only thing that Sooli could make out was that the man had ginger-color hair. "That's good, Vinie, now play it so we can see who the man is once he turns around."

"Initiating playback." The image started to run at a normal speed and the man continued to use the input keys on the terminal. Finally, after about a minute, he stopped and turned around, his face clearly visible to the recording device."

"Freeze it!"

The image froze and Sooli could make out a standard starfighter command duty uniform, the tan colors contrasting against the almost pristine white of the cruiser's bulkheads. On the right shoulder was a Blue Squadron patch, but that was not what grabbed her attention the most; as she looked at the man's face, she recognized him as none other than Paul Sweet, pilot of Blue Squadron and currently on inactive status pending a decision by Command.

"Damn it!" Sooli heard Vinie say through the speaker. "Inform the captain immediately, I'm sending a detail to pick up Sweet before he can get away."

Sooli hit a button on the console board and spoke into the microphone. "Bridge to Captain Ru'kaart." She took her finger off the button and turned to Uoart. "Jack, I want you to start running a program analysis of the transmission; I want to be one hundred percent that Sweet is the one who made it, so use whatever protocols you can get your hands on. And be sure to take a look at the terminal that he was at when this happened, it might give a subtle clue."

"Aye-aye, Ma'am."

"Ru'kaart here, Bridge," came the gruff voice of the ship's commander.

"Sir, we've identified Paul Sweet as the man responsible for sending the transmissions; he just sent another one no more than ten minutes ago and our tracking data and surveillance linked him to the exact time and place it was made. Vinie's on her way right now with a detail to detain Sweet."

"As soon as he's in custody I want both you and Lieutenant to run the interrogation. Be sure to use all the resources you have on him, including the supposed background story that he gave us yesterday."

"Understood, sir."

"Ru'kaart out."

[Personnel Corridor "C-12", Morning Star, Anaxes System, 0933 Hours]

Paul Sweet walked out of the lift and into the corridor, his mind filled with happy thoughts about his career. He had just received a transmission from Command about his status as a pilot on the inactive list and he couldn't be more pleased. He'd been put back on the active list, as a pilot in Blue Squadron, with a grade reduction to major.

While the demotion was something that irked him slightly it was inconsequential to the fact that he was going to be a pilot once again. It made him feel all happy inside.

"Freeze!"

He spun around and saw five security people in full tactical gear, their weapons trained on him. He heard footsteps and turned around to see Alecia Vinie and four more security troops move in form the other direction. Knowing that he was wise to do so, he raised his hands and placed them on his head.

"Uh, did I forget to pay my bar tab?"

"Don't move, Colonel!"

"Major, actually, Command decided I was to be demoted a grade."

"Fine, don't move, Major!"

"I'm not moving, Lieutenant, but can you please tell me what's going on?"

"Don't play innocent with me, sir, we have proof that you sent those transmissions."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Vinie started to open her mouth again when her commlink buzzed for attention. "Yes, what is it, Kitz?"

Kitz's voice was faint and tinny through the small speaker. "You've got the wrong man, Lieutenant. We've just learned that the transmission was pre-programmed to go out when Sweet was using a terminal. Uoart says the original access was by a Private Bansie in the Army section."

Vinie cursed loudly in a language unknown to Paul and lowered her weapon. "Sorry for the mistake, Colonel."

"Major."

"Major, right." She waved her hands at the rest of her security people. "Okay, troops, let's move on Bansie's quarters now." She turned and began to run down the corridor, her voice carrying with her. "Kitz, I need an exact location of his quarters..."

Paul sighed and walked in the other direction, toward his own quarters. As he walked, he reflected on the turns his life had taken lately. At least I won't be spending the rest of the day in the brig.

Reaching his quarters, he pushed the button to open the door. As it slid open, his eyes widened at what was waiting for him... and then the lights went out.

[Personnel Corridor "C-12", Morning Star, Anaxes System, 0940 Hours]

He grinned, flexing his sore knuckles, as he bent down to search Sweet's person. The datachip was right where he expected it to be, in the chest pocket of the pilot's tunic. Flyboys should leave intelligence to the professionals, he thought. "Time to catch a ship," he continued aloud.

Pocketing the chip, he walked swiftly toward the nearest lift. He entered a destination, then quickly pushed the emergency stop button, bringing the car to a sudden and jarring halt. In moments he had the control panel open and was doing a quick bypass of the monitoring system. Now the car would continue to appear as if it was stopped on the quarters level, rather than heading for its new destination, the hangar bay. He didn't want anyone to know where he was until it was too late.

[Personnel Corridor "B-15", Morning Star, Anaxes System, 0949 Hours]

Alecia met up with the rest of her team just outside of Bansie's quarters. She holstered her pistol and took a blaster rifle that someone handed her, then gave a nod to one of her people who was near the code lock. "Hit it!"

The doors opened and Alecia rushed in with a half dozen others, their weapons sweeping the room quickly. No one was there, but there was a light on in the fresher cubicle in back. As the others covered her, she carefully moved forward and yanked the door open. A body in an army uniform fell out.

"Ah, damn it! There goes our lead again!" She lowered her rifle and hit the bulkhead of the refresher.

"Lieutenant!" said her tactical coordinator.

"Yeah?"

"Ma'am, that's not Bansie. I know that man, it's Petty Officer Transer!"

Alecia checked the information on her datapad against the face of the dead man on the floor. "Okay, that's it, I've had it with conventional tactics." She raised her commlink. "Security Central, this is Alecia Vinie."

"Central here, Ma'am."

"Priority call to Ru'kaart, get his authorization; I want to put Team Hawkbat into play. Four units, one to each hangar bay, one to engineering, and one to computer central. Give them description of Private Bansie and advise them that he might be wearing another uniform, over."

"Understood, Ma'am, I'll contact the captain now."

[Personnel Corridor "C-12", Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1007 Hours]

Chelsey walked down the corridor at a leisurely pace, looking over the latest sim figures that she had provided in the last mock battle session. It had gone quite well, actually, she had only sustained minor damage while most of the opponents she had faced ended up being ventilated by a laser cannon. She didn't think it could--

She suddenly found herself face down on the floor, her hands and datapad just in front of the door to her cabin. Shaking her head slightly to regain her composure, she sat up and looked around, muttering to herself "what did I trip over?"

The answer to that question was the form of Paul Sweet lying on the deck, his nose bloody and possibly broken. She shook her head slightly and raised his head off the floor. "Paul, talk to me. Come on, Paul, wake up! Show me a sign."

"Mmmm," muttered Sweet. "Intruder..."

"Paul, what about an intruder? Where is he?"

"Catch a ship..." He then fell back into unconsciousness and Chelsey tried to bring him around again without success.

"‘Catch a ship.' Where could an intruder catch a... oh, Sith!"

She got up and ran towards the lift, but when it didn't open despite it showing it being on the level she ran to the emergency access ladder to the left. As she climbed down she reached in her pocket for her comlink but cursed when she realized she had left it in her cabin. I just hope I'm in time.

[Starboard Hangar Bay, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1014 Hours]

The man recently known to the New Republic as Private Bansie stepped out of a lift and looked around. Most of the maintenance personnel were on the other side of the bay; no one was near the ship that he wanted to get to. Moving quickly but carefully, he crossed the open deck to the Corellian-built light freighter and stopped under the docking ramp. He placed a seemingly ordinary datapad against the lock, pushed a button, and watched as numbers and letters flickered rapidly across the small screen. Moments later he was walking up the ramp into the Pride of Alderaan, the only privately-owned craft aboard the cruiser.

Bansie turned towards the cockpit and immediately came face-to-face with a black astromech droid with grey and gold trim. With a sadistic little smile, he drew his holdout blaster and fired a shot straight into the droid's radar eye. The astromech spun its dome and then fell to the floor, smoke beginning to fill the ring corridor.

He walked further into the ship and headed for the cockpit, his small blaster still held at the ready. He knew there was a low chance of running into the ship's owner while most of the cruiser was looking for him, but he didn't want to take any chances.

A few moments at the controls revealed one last obstacle: this ship was also under security lock-down. With a frown, he rose from the pilot's seat and went back to the technical station to see what he could do about that.

[Crew Quarters, Prider of Alderaan, Anaxes System, 1022 Hours]

Rob had decided that it would have been best to do some maintenance on his ship given how he'd been neglecting it lately, but he never thought that the crew cabins would be in such disarray. Normally he would be so inclined to blame it on his brother, Jeff, but since he went missing months ago that wasn't an option anymore.

He jerked his head up as the sound of a blaster shot rang throughout the ship, followed by the crash of something heavy falling to the deck. Reaching up under his bunk, he pulled out a blaster carbine and popped in a charge pack. He rose and moved to the door of the cabin, glad that it at least was in good working order; at the touch of a button, it slid open with barely a whisper.

Rob moved carefully and quietly through his ship, having a pretty good idea where an intruder would go. Sure enough, he found a man in the uniform of a petty officer in the engineering section with his back to Rob. He raised his carbine and was debating whether to say anything or just shoot him when a clatter of steps came pounding up the ramp.

"Rob, are you here? Rogue said--" began Chelsey as she burst into the lounge. The man in the engineering section spun around with amazing speed, firing two shots from the small blaster in his hand. Chelsey was hit in the leg and then the chest and crumpled to the deck. Before Rob could react, the intruder had the blaster pointed at his gut. His voice was as cold and steady as his aim: "Drop it, or I'll do the same to you."

Rob weighed his chances in this standoff, then reluctantly dropped his carbine and raised his hands. He spared a glance in the direction of Chelsey and saw that she was still alive, though in considerable pain from her wounds. He forced the anger from his face and his voice, giving his captor what he hoped was a disarming grin. "What do you want?"

"I should think it would be obvious by now. I want to get off this cruiser."

"And back to the Empire?"

"Very astute, Lieutenant. But don't think you'll get me to talk about my background; I'm not quite that stupid."

Rob shrugged slightly, then staggered and cried out as a red-hot needle went through his left arm.

"Don't," said the man. "As you can see, I'm a little bit trigger-itchy."

Rob groaned and managed to stand straight again, looking at the black hole in his sleeve. That's going to leave a mark.

Suddenly, there was another blaster shot from behind Rob. It missed the intruder, hitting the machinery behind him. As the man shifted his aim to the new threat, Rob took advantage of the distraction and rushed him. Their bodies crashed together, forcing the intruder to drop his holdout, but the man recovered and brought his knee up into Rob's groin.

When his eyes could focus again, Rob found himself curled up on the deck. Only a few seconds had passed. The intruder had picked up Rob's carbine and was crouched behind cover as Chris Layne hosed down the engineering area with suppressing fire from his blaster pistol. "Biggs, stay down!"

Rob felt obliged to agree with Chris' statement, but he couldn't just sit still while things were going on. He looked around for the holdout pistol, but it was lost somewhere among the machinery. Just then, the intruder leaned out and fired, nailing Chris with a crackling blue stun bolt. Pip fell back out of sight. The intruder turned back to Rob, tsking as he examined the weapon in his hands.

"Had it set on stun, eh? Well, I can fix that." He flicked the switch back over to regular fire and aimed the carbine at Rob. "Considering the extensive trouble you've caused, I think I'm just going to dispense with you."

Rob flinched at the sound of the shots, but felt nothing. The other man fell forward with a wordless gasp and three new holes in him, almost landing on top of Rob.

"This is Unit One to Central, target neutralized. We're secure here."

Rob turned to see three members of Team Hawkbat moving in through the engineering section of the Pride. With a ghastly grin, he pulled himself up to a sitting position with his good arm. "It's about time you showed up."

[Director's Officer, Imperial Palace, Coruscant System, 0808 Hours]

Ysanne Isard looked up from her desk as an analyst entered, her intense gaze flicking over him. "Yes?"

"Madam Director, I regret to inform you that we've lost agent Zero One Alpha. He missed his transmission window today, and I've just been informed by another source that he was exposed and then killed while trying to escape. He died without being interrogated."

Isard gave a slight nod in his direction. "Very well. Thank you for the information."

The young man bowed respectfully and left the room, the doors shutting behind him.

If the woman known in some circles as "Iceheart" had any further reaction to the loss of one of her agents, and his failure to recover the data gathered by the Rebel spy, she did not show it outwardly.

[Sickbay, Morning Star, Anaxes System, 1037 Hours]

Rob stood beside the bacta tank that held Chelsey, her body suspended in the cloudy liquid as it worked its healing magic on her blaster wounds. He smiled and waved and saw her wink in return. There was a bacta patch on his own left arm covering the wound he had received earlier. He touched a button with his right hand and spoke into the intercom.

"I heard the medical staff say you're going to be out of action for a while. Sorry to hear that, as I was just getting back on the flight line. I'm sure that we'll keep your fighter all nice and cozy. At least you'll be spared the major's sim gauntlets; I hear he's taken the whip down off his wall."

Chelsey shook her head in the tank, unable to respond verbally due to the mask covering her nose and mouth. That, and a clean set of sickbay-issue underwear, was all she wore. Her hair settled slowly back around her shoulders after the gesture.

"So," said Rob softly, "I'm sorry you got shot. I mean, I got shot, too, but you got a shot a lot worse than I did. I wish I was able to stop him before he got to you, but I'm glad you didn't get killed." He gave a slight frown. "Unlike Torch."

Chelsey looked puzzled and Rob shook his head.

"The guy shot Torch when he first boarded the Pride. Hit his optical sensor and fried the processing unit. Techs said that there was no way to repair him, or even restore him to the way he was. So, the droid that belonged to my father and passed on to me is now gone." He frowned again. "Quartermaster said they'd supply me with a replacement, of course, but it won't be the same."

"Lieutenant Baden."

Rob stopped his thinking and spun around, seeing the forms of St.Clair, Magill, Ru'kaart, and Chris Layne standing in the doorway of Sickbay. Chris moved past the three ranking officers and stood beside Rob, his own expression one of surprise that seemed to mimic that of Rob's. "Sirs?"

"Stand easy, Lieutenant," said Captain Ru'kaart, his voice full of authority. "I thought I would find you here, checking in on your comrade. In fact, we ran into Lieutenant Layne on the way here, and I wanted to talk to both of you."

Rob gave a puzzled expression. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"I'll explain in a moment, but first..." He paused and took a step closer to the bacta tank. "Can you hear me in there, Captain Maxfield?"

Chelsey gave a slight nod in confirmation and a thumbs-up as well.

"Good." He turned to St.Clair and gave a small gesture with his right hand. "Colonel, if you would be so kind."

"Of course, sir." St.Clair stepped forward a bit and stood before Rob, Chris, and Chelsey's tank. "Captain Chelsey Maxfield, First Lieutenant Baden, and Second Lieutenant Baden, by recommendation of the commanding officers of Red Squadron and the cruiser Morning Star, and approved by the commander of the Third Fleet, you are presented with the Distinguished Service Citation for helping to stop an enemy infiltrator and for your sacrifice in that action. Congratulations."

Rob just blinked as his squadron leader placed a medal on his chest and then did likewise to Chris. He straightened up and saluted and both of the younger pilots snapped to in response, saluting as well.

"That's not all, however," said Ru'kaart. "I've talked this over with Colonel St.Clair, and we both agree that it was because of you two that the spy was prevented from leaving until the Hawkbats could put him down. In light of this and your other accomplishments in the service of the New Republic, it is with no small measure of pride that I hereby authorize the promotion of each of you one grade. Congratulations, Captain Baden, First Lieutenant Layne."

Rob blinked once again and shook his head. "Sir, I... I don't understand. I haven't been in the unit for even a year."

"Rapid promotion accompanies great deeds, Captain. You've earned it, as has Lieutenant Layne. But that's not the last of it, I'm afraid." Ru'kaart gave a slight nod in the direction of Magill and the younger man stepped forward to stand beside St.Clair.

"Captain Maxfield will be in recovery for a while, and unable to perform her duties as Red Squadron's ops officer. She's agreed that she should relinquish that position, and she had a suggestion for her successor. Right, Vape?"

Chelsey gave Ranger another thumbs-up, making him smile.

"Very well. Captain Baden, you are hereby assigned the position and responsibilities of the squadron's Operation's Officer. For a third time today, Captain, congratulations."

Rob saluted again, wondering if he would ever stop smiling. "Thank you, sir, thank you."

Chris nudged Rob in the side. "Hey, Biggs, I think this calls for a celebration." He glanced at the assembled ranking officers. "By your leave, of course, sirs."

"You have our permission, gentlemen," said Ru'kaart with a smile. "Go and enjoy the night."

"Yes, sir!" Chris grabbed Rob's arm and pulled him out the door. The last thing Rob saw was Chelsey returning his salute. He turned to Chris with a grin. "Last one to the Fishtank has to buy the first round!"

Rob's heart pounded in his chest as he raced Chris down the corridor to the lift, whooping with glee. He felt happy. He felt alive. But most importantly, being in Red, he felt as if he were actually where he belonged.... home.

The End