I began this story in the AU Short Fic thread, and rather than continue to spam that thread with posts unrelated to any existing prompts I’ve decided to take the plunge and give the story its own thread.

 

This is an Alternate Universe story. Cleaner’s story is not the same as the canon Agent. Rather, it runs parallel, incorporating elements of the Agent story and keeping the timeline roughly the same. The first set of posts incorporates material from the Short Fic thread and the AU Short Fic thread. New entries begin on post 12.

 

Chapter Two begins here, on page 15. Thanks for reading!

 

The original canon character is my bounty hunter, Jesp Rixik. His stories appear in the Short Fic thread.

 

Spoiler Alert! Cleaner One contains pervasive spoilers for all chapters of the Agent story. Spoilers are not set off with spoiler tags. You have been warned.

Edited January 2, 2014 by Striges

First, a bit of background

 

This post contains background information on Cleaner. The initial section reads like a Codex entry, the remainder are stories or parts of stories from the Short Fic thread. Spoiler tags are to save space and reduce clutter.

 

A quick summary:

 

 

 

 

Reposted episodes from the Short Fic thread, in chronological order.

 

Shen as a Child (Sal’s Diner)

 

Hopping his First Ship (Rodian Engine Wizard)

 

Shen’s scar (trigger warning for violence against a child)

 

 

 

Profuse thanks to Kabeone for keeping the Short Fic indexes up to date, thus making the two links easy to find and cross-link here.

(Reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

Prologue: Getting There from Here

 

The warder gave one final yank on Shen's shackles before leaving. The bolt on the door locked with a sharp rap. Strapped semi-upright to a medical diagnostics table, Shen took in his surroundings. He did not like this turn of events one bit. The last time he'd been in one of these bare “consultation” rooms was straight out of the system picket's brig, two, maybe three years before. Or longer. He wasn't sure. The days long ago flowed together into months and years.

 

He doubted it would be a pleasant experience this time around. They pulled him out of the mine mid-shift. They never did that for anything routine. He hadn't killed anyone. Recently. That they knew about. He hoped. And he hadn't stolen anything they could trace. Well, maybe those extra meal packets he scammed off the new fish, but he didn’t think that counted. No one cared before.

 

The door slid open, admitting two men. Shen had never met either of them, but the leader’s uniform was clean and crisp and he had plenty of decoration but no name badge. One of the penal colony’s high mucky-mucks. The second was tall, powerfully built, his clothes tailor made and of expensive fabrics. A cowl hid all but his chin, and that was square and clean-shaven. Human skin tone. Barely.

 

Colony Official stepped aside, “As your master requested, my lord. Shen, no last name, caught with the crew of a vessel smuggling weapons and other contraband through the Druckenwell system four years ago.”

 

“Leave us,” the cowled figure said. Shen felt a shiver run up his spine at the words.

 

“My lord, he doesn’t speak Basic,” said Colony Official.

 

“Leave us,” Cowled Figure repeated.

 

"As you wish, my lord," Colony Official acquiesced, bowing low and backpedaling out the door. The bolt slid home again.

 

Cowled Figure's attention turned to Shen.

 

Shen knew plenty of bad men. Callous, cruel, or indifferent, he’d seen it all. Something about this one, his stance or voice, told him this was a very bad man. An air of quiet menace hung about him as though it were part of his cloak. Shen became acutely aware of his own body odor, the fact he hadn't bathed or changed his clothes in stars knew how long. Rank and reeking of dirt and sweat and raw Andris spice among other less savory things. There was a tight knot in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

 

"Why do you believe I am here?" Cowled Figure asked.

 

The lie came to his lips out of habit more than thought, "No speakee Basic," Shen replied.

 

Purple lightning danced on the man's fingertips and Shen already regretted his glib answer. "Then you best learn quickly," said the cowled figure.

 

 

Three days later...

 

 

The agent reread his orders, “I'm getting tired of these junior Sith thinking they know better than Intelligence recruiters."

 

"Be careful, Agent," replied his companion, "Fixers are required to report sedition."

 

"You won't report me, Fifteen," the agent said, "you'd be reassigned pending results of the investigation, and you don't want to be reassigned."

 

"True." Fixer Fifteen agreed, though it was unclear which part of the agent's statement he agreed with.

 

The agent glared at the flimsi, “Proceed immediately to Sevarcos II penal colony to collect and develop potential asset,” he declaimed. He started to crumple the sheet, then folded it neatly instead and slipped it into a pocket, “By order of Jadus, Sith Apprentice.”

 

“Interrogation is a standard part of the final year curriculum, or so I have heard,” Fixer Fifteen said.

 

“Yes, I know,” the agent snorted, “Interrogation is an art. Extracting useful information from an unwilling subject. Their interrogation ‘training’ is a thinly-disguised excuse for torturing a victim for amusement. None of these ‘specially chosen subjects’ know anything of import and the ‘puzzling cases’ are anything but.”

 

“Perhaps extracting information is not the goal.” Fifteen said.

 

The comm crackled to life, “A-agent? And fixer? Sevarcos colony Warder Serin seeking p-permission to board,” stammered a lower-class, Imperial-accented voice.

 

The agent looked at the fixer and rolled his eyes, “Do you have the ‘asset’ Lord Jadus requested?” the Agent asked.

 

“Yes, s-sir. Right here. I’m to deliver him,” Warder Serin answered.

 

Fixer Fifteen returned the agent’s look and shrugged. The agent released the hatch’s interlocks, “I’m going to regret this,” he muttered under his breath. The ship’s airlock opened to reveal a young man with a stubbly beard and a rumpled brown colony uniform. Warder Serin. Behind him a burly warder pushed a floating repulsor-stretcher, its occupant curled into a fetal ball.

 

“Agent?” Warder Serin asked.

 

“Yes?” the agent replied. He peered past Serin’s shoulder, trying to get a better view of the stretcher but the warder stepped forward and shoved a datapad in his hand. The agent took the datapad, his thumb falling on the printbox. The datapad beeped. The agent looked down to see a bright green ‘identity accepted’ stamp on the display screen.

 

“Transfer papers,” Warder Serin said, moving aside as the second warder shoved the stretcher past the agent into the ship. “He’s all yours now.”

 

“Wait, what?” the agent said, staring dumbfounded as it drifted along and ended up in the passageway.

 

“Yours. Your custody, sir,” Warder Serin said, backing down the gangway, “The pad has all our files and Lord Jadus’ complete interrogation report. You just accepted transfer of prisoner 18181220. Thank you, sir,” he said with a halfway salute, “Always a pleasure to be of service to Imperial Intelligence. S-sir.” Serin and his mute partner beat a rapid retreat.

 

The agent’s brow furrowed but he let them go. He saw no point in trying to get more out of the delivery men. He resealed the hatch and turned his attention to his new passenger. It was a male Twi’lek on the young side of young adulthood. Smallish, with the stringy build acquired from heavy physical labor and not enough food. He wore a ratty sleeveless mesh undershirt and a filthy green jumpsuit, its arms tied about his waist. His skin was some reddish shade, but the agent couldn’t be certain of its the exact color or the patterns on his lekku between bruises, scorching, and heat blisters. Useless. Sith and their interrogation training. What was he supposed to do with this alien?

 

Fixer Fifteen read the stretcher’s output, “This man should be in kolto,” he met the agent’s eyes, “that is, assuming you intend to keep him.”

 

The agent touched the half-melted shock collar on the Twi’lek’s neck. He jerked and his eyelids fluttered before squeezing back shut. He slurred something and pulled his limbs in tighter around himself. His breath whined in his chest. The agent turned his attention to the datapad and opened a file. A tiny holoimage resolved above the display. A powerful man even in reproduction. His dark robes and hooded features marked him as Sith. “I am Lord Jadus. This creature proved quite resistant to questioning. What is more, he managed to hide his knowledge of Basic from his captors for four years. Though not from me. I sense he will be of value to Imperial Intelligence. I consign him to you. Find a use for him.”

 

Fifteen cocked his head, “He could easily die of his injuries, agent. No questions, no investigation.”

 

The agent looked back at his prisoner. The Sith would not accept that excuse, reasonable though it might be. “Do what you can for him, Doctor.”

 

“As you wish,” Fixer Fifteen said, taking charge of the stretcher.

 

The agent stared at the Twi’lek as he passed, “He has no loyalty,” the agent sighed, “I can’t imagine a worse choice for an intelligence operative. In any capacity.”

 

“Well, I may be able to help with that, if you will entertain a suggestion,” Fixer Fifteen replied over his shoulder.

 

 

Seventeen years later...

 

 

Shen strolled into the rotten cantina, paid for a slimy private booth, dropped a two-meter radio bomb to disrupt any spyware and shoved a dataspike into the holoterminal. The booth’s private dancer disappeared, replaced by the image of a older Human in an Imperial uniform. “Ittu, Agent, you bring me in from the rim for Hutta? Thanks for nothing,” Shen lit up a spice cigarette and blew the smoke through the man’s holo.

 

The figure in the holo folded his hands behind his back, “I thought you’d feel at home,” he said.

 

“This karking planet smells like Evocii crotch.”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” replied the image.

 

“Skrek ta,” Shen cursed, making an obscene gesture beneath the table.

 

“And it’s Keeper now. You ought to be able to remember that,” he continued despite Shen’s interruption.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Climbing the bureaucratic ladder,” Shen leaned forward toward the projector, “You still haven’t gotten over the language tape thing, have you?” The holoimage was too small to register the slight grimace at Shen’s mention of the language lesson fiasco. But it was there. Shen knew it was.

 

“Agents could have been killed for that mistake, Shen. No, I haven’t forgotten it,” Keeper said.

 

Shen blew more smoke through the blue figure again, “Weren’t no mistake. You never asked for polite Rodese.”

 

“You knew better. We can’t have agents cursing like sailors with every breath.”

 

“Not my fault,” Shen said, lounging back and getting comfortable on the worn seat, “Was what I learned.”

 

“You might have mentioned you learned from a Rodian wh*re,” Keeper said. He refolded his arms over his chest, “I don’t care to go over this again.”

 

“Engineer,” Shen said darkly, “she was an engineer, better than the menndo stoopa on navy ships calling themselves engineers--”

 

“Don’t make me use the keyword, Shen. You know how I feel about it,” Keeper said.

 

“Yeah,” Shen tapped the ash from his cigarette into the projector, “wouldn’t want you getting all dirty or nothing.”

 

“Keyword:--”

 

“Alright, alright,” Shen groused. He sat up straighter so it looked like he was paying attention, “Tell me about the karking job so I can get the kark off this snatto planet.”

 

“And cut the profanity. I’ve had enough of your mouth for one day Shen,” Keeper said.

 

Shen heard the telltale warning note in Keeper’s voice. Something was needling him beyond their typical exchange. “So what’s the job.”

 

“Subversion,” Keeper said.

 

Shen shifted on his grimy seat, “That’s a new one. Moving me up? Finally?”

 

Keeper went on, “Hardly. I’ve just lost a junior agent on this mission and time is of the essence. I don’t have the luxury of prepping another agent with culture, language, and proper credentials. I need someone who can step in and fix this mess now.”

 

Shen blew another puff of smoke through Keeper’s image and tapped the ash on the floor. Explained Keeper’s nerves. And his call. Mop up detail as usual. “Alright. What’s the rundown and how did your new fish screw it up?”

 

Shen imagined he could hear Keeper’s teeth grinding. “It may have been a problem with his cover identity. Details are still coming in, we don’t have a complete report yet. His mission was to bring Nem’ro the Hutt and his Shvash gas operation in on the side of the Empire. To that end he developed a relationship with Karrels Javis, one of Nem’ro’s lieutenants.

 

“Unfortunately, on top of the agent’s untimely demise, we have received word that Javis’ sons, both free traders, had a run-in with a Sith apprentice. One was killed, the other severely injured. When Javis receives the news he will undoubtedly push Nem’ro to stay independent at best, go over to the Republic at worst. We cannot allow that, and we cannot delay the message any longer without arousing suspicion.

 

“I need you to eliminate Karrels Javis, throw suspicion on the Republic, and complete the agent’s mission. Nem’ro’s other favored lieutenant is a volatile Twi’lek, Toth’lazhen. I expect you will be able to relate to to him--”

 

“Sure. Us Twi’leks always look out for each other,” Shen groused.

 

“Regardless, it is vital you win his trust and quickly. Your identity is a gunrunner out of occupied Balmorra. You’re looking to cut a deal for Nem’ro’s shvash gas for your company’s weapons and you’re willing to pay well,” Keeper concluded, “And you’re willing to help Nem’ro secure the gas pocket, if that’s what it takes.”

 

Shen grimaced, chewing on the stubby end of his cigarette, “Hope your people did a better job with that identity than the noob’s,” he reached for cutoff switch.

 

“Shen,” Keeper began, his hands warding off Shen’s disconnect.

 

“Yeah?” his finger paused above the switch.

 

“Do try to keep the body count to a minimum this time,” Keeper said.

 

Shen’s grimace opened to a thin-lipped smile, blue spice smoke drifting up from between sharp teeth, “Cleaner One out.”

Edited April 5, 2013 by Striges

(Reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

New Fish

 

Like a lot of the underworld, the activity at Nem’ro’s never really stopped. It reached a crescendo in the dark hours then waned with the morning. A relic of when less than legal activity respected natural rhythms of night and day. So the constant party was at ebb when Shen investigated his predecessor’s quarters.

 

He sliced the door controls and it opened without a fuss. Easy as a fifty credit wh*re. Two steps into the dark chamber and it hissed closed behind him. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for in here, only that it had been the noob’s. Keeper wanted a report on the situation--which in Shen’s opinion did not include finding out how and why the fish got himself killed--but Keeper overruled him. So here he was wasting valuable time.

 

He spotted the holoterminal in the corner. Standard procedure was to sweep for listening devices, then--

 

Nem’ro’s security consultant and chief bully, Kaliyo Djannis, stepped out of the shadows, blaster drawn, "Well, well," the Rattataki woman purred, "looks like I caught another fish."

 

Shen froze, hands empty but hovering at his side. Damn it. Did the woman run on stims or something? He told Keeper this was a bad idea.

 

She stalked around Shen. "I didn't expect a new one so soon. Whatever you got going must be pretty important. So, who are you really working for, I wonder?"

 

Shen followed her with his eyes, "I could tell you," he said. She was behind him now, and he didn't like that, "but then I'd have to kill you."

 

The Rattataki barked a laugh, "Right. Like I haven't heard that one before." She came back around front, hand on her blaster, "Exchange? Yjal? Another of the Hutts? Seriously, you need a new job."

 

Shen chewed on his cigarette, "Seriously, I'd have to kill you," he said.

 

"Funny guy," she said, “It’s Yjal, isn’t it?”

 

Shen had no idea who this Yjal was, but mentioned in conjunction with the others, he must be an enemy. He could work with that. He snorted, “Damn, he said you were smart. Yeah, Yjal sent me.”

 

“Ha. Knew it,” she laughed, “Have a seat.” She gestured to one of the room’s chairs. Shen did as she directed, while she leaned against the edge of the table, “So how much is he paying you?”

 

“Not enough, I can tell you that,” Shen complained. He leaned back in the chair and hooked one arm over the back. Ash spilled onto the floor.

 

“I bet,” the Rattataki smiled. She leaned forward, her blaster balanced on her knee, “So now the question is, what to do with you.”

 

Shen took a drag on his cigarette, “Yjal’s cheap. I’m open to a better offer.”

 

Kaliyo cackled with laughter, “Oh, right, like I’m going to pay off Yjal’s hunter.” she leveled her blaster, “Thing is, though, if Yjal sent you, you didn’t have to vape Karrels or suck up to Toth’lazhen. Or check out this guy’s room. I figure you and him are either rivals or buds, and you got something bigger going on. Care to try again?”

 

“Not really,” he said. Shen expected she noticed him schmoozing Toth’lazhen. Little bit of a surprise she made the connection with Javis. Pretty clear what bit the noob. Oh well. Her habit of abandoning employers whenever she felt like it meant another mysterious disappearance wouldn’t arouse any suspicion. Disintegration was so convenient.

 

“I want in,” she said, “but I think I’ll just shoot you and try the next one.”

 

Not a chance. Shen flicked the cigarette at Kaliyo’s face. Her first bolt smoked the chair he’d been sitting in. He'd already spun out of it to the floor, drawing a compact blaster, the biggest thing he could smuggle past Nem’ro’s paranoid security. Before he could bring it up the Rattataki lunged forward. She stomped at his outstretched arm with one heavy boot. Shen rolled out of the way and her foot crushed the trailing tip of one lekku instead. Pain rocketed up and exploded inside his skull. Stars blurred half his vision and he felt nauseous. He cursed whatever cruel power created Twi'leks with three d*cks, but only one of them good for fun. He finished the roll on his knees, then slipped sideways again as her next bolt vaporized a hole in the floor.

 

Someone addressed her from behind. "Kaliyo Djannis," and Shen had never before been so pleased to hear Keeper's voice. Kaliyo whirled and sent a blaster bolt through Keeper's center of mass. Or what would have been his center of mass if he weren't a hologram. Shen took advantage of her distraction and launched himself at her, wrapping his left arm around her throat. She dipped her chin so he didn’t get a clean hold and sank her upper teeth into his forearm. He hissed and pulled her in tighter, pressing his blaster to her side. Her temple would have been more dramatic, but messy. Messier anyway. Dammit, he hated hand-to-hand and the holdout he packed wasn’t good for much else.

 

“Do not kill her, Cleaner,” Keeper said.

 

“F*ck all, you’re an Imp?” Kaliyo exclaimed. With her teeth in his arm only the vowels came through.

 

Shen took back the nice thoughts he had about Keeper a few seconds ago, “Won’t be a body. Thought I saw her heading for the spaceport.” She tried to stomp on his instep but he wrenched her sideways. His crappy hold let him do that much. She dug in and he felt a trickle of blood run down his arm.

 

“No, Cleaner” Keeper said. His attention returned to Kaliyo, “Imperial Intelligence, to be precise,” he continued. “As is my operative. We are aware of your activities here, as well as your background and associations. And we have a proposal.”

 

“No, we don’t. She’s interfering with the op,” Shen growled. If this was Keeper’s real play all along, he was going to have a chat with him. “What settling pond do you want your atoms scattered in? That’s the only deal you’re getting.”

 

“Overruled, Cleaner,” Keeper said.

 

“I can still put you in a medbay for a year, spulta,” Shen hissed in her ear. He shifted the blaster’s focus to her hip. Probably wouldn’t kill her. Right away. “And forget walking without servos.”

 

“Tell your dog to back off,” she snarled around her gag.

 

“Not quite yet, I’m afraid,” Keeper said, “As I was explaining, you have a unique skill set that could prove quite useful. You would become a well-paid servant of the Empire. Still interested?”

 

Kaliyo’s struggles slowed, “How well-paid?”

 

“Well.”

 

“He vapes me if I say no?” she mumbled.

 

“In essence,” Keeper agreed, “Cleaner is an effective asset, but not a subtle one.”

 

Shen tugged on her again, “This is not a good idea, Keeper.” He could hear the wheels turning in her head. His bruised lekku sent waves of pain into his head with every heartbeat. He wanted to get rid of her and continue fixing the botched mission.

 

“I want in,” she said finally.

 

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Keeper said, “Let her go, Cleaner.”

 

“Not a good idea, Keeper,” Shen reiterated. If she were smart, she’d kill him when she had the chance. He wasn’t about to give her that chance.

 

“Let her go.”

 

Profanity in half a dozen languages filled Shen’s mind, but he said nothing and relaxed his hold. Kaliyo bit deeper for a fraction of a second, then stepped out of his grip. She gave him a smirk and wiped his blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, “So now what?” she asked through red-stained teeth.

 

“You will work with Cleaner for the remainder of this mission--”

 

“No, no,” Shen said, “You want her, you take her. I work alone.”

 

“I want you to evaluate her performance in the field, Cleaner,” Keeper said, “You will remove Fa’athra’s threat to Nem’ro’s mining operation. Permanently. Retreive your predecessor’s possessions. Included among them is a dataspike intended for use in Fa’athra’s computer systems. Kaliyo has inside knowledge of Fa’athra’s palace and will accompany you. The evidence on the spike, combined with what you already planted, will convince Nem’ro that Fa’athra was working with the Republic. That is all we need.”

 

Shen wanted to throw something at Keeper. All he had was his crummy little holdout blaster, and bad as it was, he wasn’t giving it up. “You do remember all my evaluations say ‘does not work well with others’.”

 

"I am well aware of your performance evaluations, Cleaner," Keeper said.

 

"So, how well-paid, exactly?" Kaliyo interjected.

 

"There will be time enough to negotiate your salary after you aid my operative," Keeper said.

 

Oh. Oh, got it. Keeper's game was deeper. He wanted to get more mileage out of her death. Not a bad idea. He could sell that to Nem'ro easy. Sacrificed against Republic-armed troops...wanted him to bring the data back...yeah, "Fine," he groused, "you're in."

 

"Try to keep up," Kaliyo said with a smile.

 

"I expect a full debrief from you on Dromund Kaas, Kaliyo," Keeper said.

 

Damn. Maybe not.

Edited September 19, 2013 by Striges

(reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

Later, on a transport

 

Shen's Designation

 

“So what kind of a name is Cleaner, anyway?” Kaliyo asked, taking the seat opposite Shen in the ship’s dining hall.

 

Shen picked up his sandwich, “They send me in when an op craters and it’s all picking up body parts and scr*ping sh*t off the walls,” he said, taking a bite, “the Cleaner,” he mumbled around the mouthful. Nice thing about official Imperial transports, the food was usually decent.

 

“Huh,” Kaliyo said, “When do I learn your real name?”

 

“You don’t.”

(Reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

Kaliyo disembarked the tram behind Shen. She looked around at the wet city, shining damp in what passed for daylight on this world. “Kaas City, huh?” she said, following him down the station stairs, “all shiny and new. Makes you want to burn it all down.”

 

“Don’t spit on the sidewalk,” Shen said, “Ten years hard labor.” He paused for a moment as uniformed security personnel frog-marched a Twi’lek, loudly proclaiming his innocence, toward a back room.

 

Kaliyo followed his gaze, “Even better reason.” she said.

 

Shen bought a crunchy stick of strong-smelling fried something-or-other from the tram station vendor. “Want one?” he asked.

 

“It stinks like grilled Houk feet. No,” she grumbled.

 

“Suit yourself,” Shen said, taking a bite. Chewy. He dropped the disposable napkin the vendor handed him with his food and a sudden gust of wind sent it fluttering away. Chasing it down, he tossed it in a bin.

 

Kaliyo watched him, hands placed scornfully on her hips, “Aw, lookie here. You sure do live up to your name, Cleaner.”

 

“Skrek ta,” he cursed, safely out of earshot of Kaas City security, “You have any idea what the penalty is for littering around here?”

 

“No,” she sang, “but I bet you’re going to tell me.”

 

“Transportation. For life,” he replied, “to Kessel or worse.”

 

“Ooo. Guess I’ll watch my step,” she said.

 

“You do that,” he said. It would be a convenient way to get rid of her. Easy. Plausible. He’d keep it in mind.

(Reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

Keeper's Debriefing

 

Shen passed the security checkpoints one at a time, signing for Kaliyo at every step, munching his smelly snack from the vendor in the alien tram station. He ignored the rotten looks. He couldn’t smoke here. The only obnoxious habit he could get away with was eating odoriferous alien food. Hutta was bad, but it was a bad he could navigate. Dromund Kaas...Dromund Kaas had a different kind of dark heart. He did not like it. He preferred to stay away. Keeper usually obliged him.

 

Shen tossed the greasy stick into a trash bin and continued further into Imperial Intelligence headquarters. Arriving at the center of the web with Kaliyo in tow, he caught the tail end of Keeper's speech to another new fish, "It isn't glamorous work, despite what you see on the holonet,” he noted Shen’s appearance and wrapped up with the new agent, “See the requisitions desk for the items you require, then speak to a watcher for your orders." The fresh-faced operative scurried off, her shiny blue ponytail swaying with her movement. She ignored Shen's wink as she passed. Keeper's attention turned to Shen, "You're late," he said.

 

"Yeah? Well I had to take the alien-only taxi and come in through the service entrance," Shen complained. It was also a lie and Keeper knew it. Intelligence didn't have a service entrance. "Not my fault."

 

"I see you brought Kaliyo with you," he remarked.

 

"I'm here. I want some specifics--" she began.

 

"Watcher Three will handle your debrief, Kaliyo," Keeper said.

 

"What about--" she started.

 

"I said, speak to Watcher Three. Cleaner, I will see you in my office," Keeper said. She left with the watcher, giving Shen one irritated look over her shoulder before disappearing around a corner.

 

Shen followed Keeper up the familiar stairs hidden behind the main display. Keeper took his seat at his desk. As usual, there were no other chairs in the room. Nothing like forcing everyone else to stand in his presence. Shen sat on the edge of the desk.

 

Keeper ignored him and brought up several reports. “Quite the bloodbath on Hutta, Shen,” Keeper looked up, “after you left.” Shen shrugged. He recovered the op. Collateral damage was a bonus.

 

“Could you have prevented it?” Keeper asked.

 

“What do you think?” Shen asked. He patted his pocket for a cigarette but of course he didn’t have any.

 

Keeper leaned back in his chair, “I suspected as much. Nem’ro has signed a contract with the Empire. As in the original mission brief.”

 

“That’s what you wanted, right?” Shen said.

 

“I could have done without the carnage,” Keeper steepled his fingers, “Though I’ve grown accustomed to your lack of restraint. Given Nem’ro’s actions, I presume it had something to do with the data you recovered from Fa’athra?”

 

“You wanted Nem’ro to have that data. That was the point,” Shen said. He and Kaliyo laid waste to Fa’athra’s compound. Great gig. Nem’ro’s grand purge in the streets afterward made their exploits look like a gardening show.

 

Keeper sighed, “I wonder what kind of operative you might have made if you preferred to minimize casualties instead of maximize them.”

 

Shen turned to glare at Keeper, “One not operating with a keyword,” he said.

 

Keeper went back to his reports. The room stayed silent except for the vague mumble of activity in the main Intelligence room below. “I am a bit surprised to see Kaliyo with you,” he said after a minute.

 

“Thought you wanted her breathing,” Shen said. In truth, he wasn’t quite sure what Keeper had in mind for Kaliyo. His fingers twitched. He had nothing to hold or fiddle with. Felt strange. “I got her away from Nem’ro. She can’t do any more damage there. You want her gone now, say so.”

 

“No, no,” Keeper said, “I planned for either contingency. Alive, she has her uses.”

 

“Great,” Shen slipped off the desk, “I’m out.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Keeper said, “I’m assigning her to you permanently.”

 

“Ha. That’s a good one,” Shen said, “Developing a sense of humor?”

 

“No,” Keeper said, his eyes alone looking up, “You seem to be able to handle her. Shocking as that sounds.”

 

“I work alone,” Shen objected, “Thought that was clear.”

 

“You’ll work with her.”

 

“Already have,” Shen said. Kaliyo was effective, with an appetite for violence that rivaled his own. She was also bad news, trouble waiting to happen.

 

“I don’t want her having a fatal accident. Is that perfectly clear?” Keeper asked. “She is an asset now, and you will treat her as a valued member of Imperial Intelligence.”

 

Shen ground his teeth. Phrasing it that way gave Keeper’s words the aegis of command. One step removed from enforcing orders with his damn keyword, “But it’s not permanent, got it? One more op and that’s enough.”

 

“I’ve put up with you for considerably longer, Shen,” Keeper said, “I think you can manage her for a little while.” Keeper made an entry on his datapad, “Are you sleeping with her yet?”

 

“None of your karking business,” Shen snapped.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Keeper said, his head still bent over his datapad, “Do be sure to get up-to-date on your inoculations before you leave. Your nanobot colony only works for poisons. It does nothing for disease.”

 

“I know what it does, Keeper,” Shen said.

 

Keeper’s nose wrinkled, “Yes, I can tell you’re still testing its capacity.”

 

Shen reached again for cigarettes that weren’t there, “Well, if you don’t use something it gets all out of shape. Dried up and wrinkly.”

 

Keeper’s eyes narrowed but he chose not to rise to the bait. Instead he selected a dataslide from a color-coordinated rack, “I want you and Kaliyo off-planet immediately. Your next assignment is Tattooine.” He pushed the slide across the desk, “Czerka pulled out years ago, but now they’re back. I want to know why. The details are on the slide.”

 

Shen picked up the slide. He glanced from it to Keeper, “This almost sounds like a real op, Keeper. What’s going on?”

 

Keeper steepled his fingers again, “Czerka invoked emergency protocols when they abandoned their facility. Their recovery operation hasn’t gone critical yet, but knowing Czerka it’s only a matter of time. If whatever’s there can serve the Empire, make sure it does, otherwise liquidate it.”

 

Shen grinned. This was the kind of op he liked. “What about Czerka people?”

 

“Expendable.”

 

Shen’s smile grew wider. Even better. Tattooine was the ***-end of nowhere, but the mission was right up his alley. He’d send off a holo before leaving. He knew a guy in Czerka, they shared a hobby. “And the natives?”

 

“Likewise.”

 

“Guess I’ll be going,” Shen said.

 

The sound of rapid footsteps on the stair alerted both of them to a new presence. A brown-haired human female ran into the room. Keeper’s brow furrowed, “I gave strict orders not to be interrupted, Watcher Two.”

 

“Yes, sir,” she said, “I realize that. I apologize, sir, but he’s returned.”

(Reposted from the AU Short FIc Thread)

 

An Old Friend

 

Shen looked between them, "Who's returned?" he asked.

 

Keeper stood, "Leave. Now," he barked at Watcher Two. She lit off down the stairs. Keeper was beside Shen in a heartbeat, "Keyword: morigeratus.”

 

Shen’s violet eyes glazed over. He heard himself say, “Recognized.” Fifteen seconds. Frozen for fifteen seconds. Accepting whatever orders Keeper gave him like an organic droid.

 

“You will remain in this office unless I order you to leave. You will be quiet. You will not make noise or attempt in any way to alert others of your presence here. You will not touch or otherwise tamper with the computers," Keeper whispered in Shen's ear, “And you will do no damage to anything in this room.”

 

2...1. “Directive accepted. Valid phase three hours,” Shen whirled on Keeper, fury darkening his features, "Skrek ta, Keeper, you bastard son of a Kath hound. What the kark is going on?" he hissed. Keeper's command already held his voice down to no more than a soft conversational level.

 

“Stay here,” Keeper reiterated. He headed for the stairs.

 

Shen followed on his heels, “E-chu-ta what’s going on?” he cursed. Then stopped. He could not pass the threshold. His body politely refused, leaving him standing in the doorway like a jilted lover. Keeper continued down into the central Intelligence hub without looking back.

 

Keeper didn't like him. Everyone in Intelligence knew it. But Keeper never invoked the keyword lightly. Locking him away in the closet for the duration of a surprise inspection or whatever was...petty. Shen wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew when keep his mouth shut. He slowly turned back to Keeper’s spartan office. Three hours to kill and nothing to do. With the prohibition against touching the computers he couldn't even call up the holonet. Keeper was very good at getting all his conditions in within the fifteen second limit. He’d had plenty of practice.

 

Shen crossed the room to stand behind the big screens. He could see through the displays from this side. They were opaque from the other side, so the watchers and fixers and agents never knew if Keeper was watching them. This time it was Shen. Shen watching. Watcher Shen.

 

Keeper waited just below him beside the holotable, Watcher Two and a scattering of other watchers nearby. Parade rest, all of them. A tall figure entered from the main hall. Draped in ash grey robes, a smooth silver mask hiding his features, the figure advanced on Keeper. Minders and unfortunate lower-ranked operatives scattered before him.

 

Sith.

 

Shen had no love for the Sith. Still, he knew better than to mouth off to them. Especially them. As the Sith approached the tableau below Shen felt a cold chill in his spine and a sensation of...crawling. As though his skin were infested with parasites. A phantom smell memory. Dirt and sweat and raw Andris spice and stars knew what else. Scorched flesh and pain. His breath caught in his throat and he knew who this Sith must be. His walk was the same. He couldn't hear their voices, but he knew what the Sith’s sounded like. Smooth, even. Snakes. Swimming in frost. He remembered. He could never forget.

 

Shen stood transfixed watching their conversation. Keeper’s back was toward him and the mask hid the Sith’s lips. Shen could only guess at what was being said. At last the Sith raised his head. His eyeless face looked straight through the screen into the hidden chamber beyond. He knew. He knew Shen was here.

 

He turned and left with a swirl of his cloak. As he passed from view, the sense of wrongness faded. A rotten tooth pulled leaving an aching hole, but one that would close. Eventually. Keeper glanced up at the screen, as though wondering if Shen had seen the show. Or if he had sat with his feet up on the desk, oblivious.

 

Shen remembered the Sith. He still didn’t know his name.

 

.............................................................

 

Notes: morigeratus is Latin for “to be compliant”. According to Google translate.

 

The fifteen-second restriction for orders and limited duration of commands (based on phrasing) are artistic license. I assumed an early, experimental version of the Castellan Restraint serum would have restrictions not present in the final product.

Edited April 5, 2013 by Striges

(Reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

Dangerous Game

 

The high walk between Intelligence Central Command and the Sith Sanctum was windswept and deserted as usual. Two parts of the great Imperial Citadel. Dromund Kaas citizens pointed to the Citadel as the heart of their society. Yet they never wanted to visit. Shen got to tour both sections on the same day. Lucky him.

 

He stopped for a moment and leaned against the rail. He looked over the edge into the chasm below. Distance hid its base from his view. Within moments a combination of vertigo and prior commands forced him back from the rail to the center of the walkway. Couldn’t even look. Ahead was the Sanctum and its Sith-only hovertaxi. He could threaten the droid attendant into giving him a ride back to the city proper, but what was the point? Keeper would just broadcast his recall and he’d come running back. Or his self-destruct. Never could figure out why Keeper disallowed suicide, yet also programmed him to kill himself on command. Damn Imperials had so messed with his brain it was a wonder he could do anything at all.

 

His hand went to his empty pocket again. Dammit. He wanted a karking cigarette and he wanted it right karking now. Stupid Dromund Kaas and their stupid karking laws. Wouldn’t even let him indulge a karking bad habit. Not like it mattered. Couldn’t get high. Couldn’t get drunk. Keeper’s nanobot colony saw to that.

 

At least he had a name for this old tormentor. Darth Jadus. Keeper said Darth Jadus demanded to speak with the agent responsible for the Hutta mission. Keeper said Darth Jadus was on the Dark Council, his power rivaling the Emperor. Keeper said he doubted Darth Jadus remembered him. Sure. He probably tortured hundreds, what's one among the multitude? An alien, a nobody, someone his old master picked at random.

 

Shen snorted into the wind. Keeper was wrong. Darth Jadus remembered him. Must be like losing your virginity. You always remember your first brutal interrogation. What did he have in mind now, finishing what he started?

 

He stared up at the Sith Sanctum’s crowning spires. He was as prepared as he was going to get. Might as well get it over with.

 

 

 

Jadus’ cyborg guards let him in and ushered him to the Darth’s lair. The feeling of crawling was on his skin again, as well as the phantom odors. And Jadus...Darth Jadus was waiting for him.

 

“Why do you think you are here?” he asked.

 

Shen’s blood ran cold. Fear, irrational and paralyzing, gripped him. The intervening years vanished. There was only Jadus. Jadus and his questions. “You summoned me, my lord,” he croaked.

 

“I did,” Jadus said. Snakes. Swimming in frost. “I can feel your fear. You remember. You are privileged. The first. Called and christened in my service long ago. You see these others?”

 

The cyborg-soldiers with computerized voices? He’d seen them. “Yes, my lord,” he whispered.

 

“They are my followers. Hollowed out. Everything extraneous removed. Only fear and loyalty remain,” Darth Jadus said, “This is how the Empire shall be. The democratization of fear. But some here in the heart of the Empire oppose my grand vision. You, you shall take your place as my agent and destroy them. Kneel.” Terror and the memory of pain washed over him in a wave. Shen’s legs buckled. He dropped to his knees before Darth Jadus. He felt the Sith’s hand hovering above his bowed head. Not touching. Proximity alone forced him down, “This is indoctrination. Inoculation. The power of the Dark Side flowing through you, my chosen. Burning away all that does not serve. The remainder, tainted. Rise now, my Agent of Chaos, and look with new eyes upon your master.”

 

 

 

Shen stumbled back toward Intelligence. His skin still crawled but the dull ache of enduring Jadus’ presence was fading. That really should not have worked. Dredging up all those memories--which wasn’t hard--and using them as a screen for his real thoughts? He ought to be a smoking ruin. Again.

 

He snorted. Darth Jadus? He was Jenks with more power. The same trick worked on him. Cry and wail and beg. Give him the show he wanted. Darth Jadus wanted him filled with fear, fine. He could do fear. Kark all that stoic poodoo. Let him see abject terror. Let him choke on it. Shen smiled a sharp-toothed grin. He’d never see anything else. Shen got to keep breathing and destroy things with the Dark Council’s blessing. He’d grovel and whine for that opportunity.

 

Of course, his little performance was not without consequences. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be sleeping well for a while. Not with Kaliyo around and no nice doctor with his nice sedatives. But that was better than spending a month in a kolto tank with nightmares for months anyway.

 

And here was something interesting. Darth Jadus didn’t have his keyword.

 

Time to report back to Keeper.

Edited April 5, 2013 by Striges

(Reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

Terrorist!

 

“Hey stupid!” Kaliyo shouted at the armed former slave.

 

The redhaired woman turned and fired at her. Shen took aim while Kaliyo yelled more profane taunts. Boring-a** hand-me-down op. Keeper didn’t know what to do with him since Darth Jadus vetoed the Tatooine mission. Taking out his frustrations on rebelling slaves and the occasional soldier for hire was a poor substitute for real action. Not to mention ironic. The situation in the quarry was beyond control, beyond recovery, beyond mop up. It was full-on slaughter. He had to find ways to keep himself interested. For example, today was redhead day.

 

Shen felt a shuddering whump. Much bigger than the occasional water storage tank going up or scaffold demolition. Golden light bathed the worksite. The ongoing violence at the quarry paused like a holonet freezeframe. His current target’s eyes joined hundreds of others turning skyward. Shen blasted her in the back. Only then did he bother checking the scenery.

 

A ship exploded in low orbit. A big one. The fireball filled nearly a quarter of the dawn sky. Pieces of burning wreckage rained down over Dromund Kaas' jungle, catching the wet canopy on fire in places. The largest sections along with the bulk of the debris fell toward the north of Shen's location. Smoke and flames erupted on the horizon. It was glorious.

 

The quarry’s weathered address system crackled to life. Scattered holounits that survived the riots displayed a human image; most of them had long gone audio-only. He straightened, surreptitiously joining a mixed group of slaves and mercenaries clustered around the nearest unit. He caught the message in progress.

 

"...you’ve just witnessed our successful attack on the dreadnaught Dominator..."

 

Shen’s earbud pinged. “Cleaner, report!” That didn't take long.

 

He tapped the acknowledge signal and meandered toward the lee of a large rocky outcropping. Out of the crowd’s earshot. Also out of earshot of the broadcasting message, unfortunately, “Lovely morning, Fixer Twelve,” he said, “I didn’t do it.”

 

“Shut it, Cleaner,” Fixer Twelve growled, “Keeper has new orders for you, so listen up. There’s a ship in the Kaas City Spaceport bucking for departure clearance. Several dissidents from the watch lists are on it. You need to be too, and Keeper don’t much care how you get there.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“Oh, by the way, military units are converging on the spaceport,” Twelve said. There was real mirth in his voice now, “you might want to hurry.”

 

“Keep this comm open,” Shen said. He whistled sharply for Kaliyo, knowing he just gave Twelve an earsplitting whine through the feedback, “You, skiff, now,” he barked. Kaliyo ran for the light aero they’d hidden in the bushes above the quarry. “What’s he want, Twelve? Blast ‘em all?”

 

“He want them alive, Cleaner,” Fixer Twelve said, “Stay with them through their hyperjumps and find out where they come from and who they’re connected to.”

 

Kaliyo zipped up in the skiff, “I’m driving,” she said.

 

Shen jumped on behind her, “Damn straight you are,” he said. Kaliyo rocketed the aero up to full speed and zoomed over the boulders. “Fixer,” Shen shouted over the wind, “Reactivate my profile as Syad and file Documents of Fugitive Property, backdated one week,” Kaliyo whooped and he ducked a low branch, “Leave Kaliyo alone but she didn’t leave Hutta with anyone who looks like me--”

 

“I need approval for that--”

 

“You fix it. You’re a fixer, stoopa, that’s your job,” Shen shouted, “If you don’t, I will find your house and eat your children.” The line hissed. Twelve muted his input. He was either cursing at him or trying to get approval from Keeper. “Just do it. Get approval later. If Keeper doesn't like it you can switch it back and probably get me killed like you always wanted. Fix it, damn you!” he bellowed into the comm.

 

A click, “All right. On it.”

 

Kaliyo swooped into a muddy arroyo. Shen clung to her waist as they swept past the rocks. One wrong move and they were paste. Rattataki woman was crazier than he was. “I love you too, Twelve. Cleaner out.” He removed the earbud and tossed it into the slipstream while Kaliyo took another turn at insane speed. He saw the telltale puff of annihilated electronics in a quick backward glance.

 

They ditched the skiff in an alley and rode Shen's security overrides to the docking bay. Before breaching the blast door he grabbed Kaliyo's arm, "I'm Syad, slave agitator and general troublemaker. You're you. We met about a week ago after you dumped your ride from Hutta."

 

"Why'd I dump him?" Kaliyo asked, a mischievous grin on her face.

 

"He was boring," Shen said. Kaliyo's continued grin told him she was going to twist that directive into some insult. Most likely a dig at his sexual prowess or something equally embarrassing. "Otherwise follow my lead. Don't shoot first." There wasn't time to explain any more. He hoped her background as an anarchist would sell the show.

 

Shen overrode the door controls as well as shorting them out so it looked like a quick and dirty slicing job. The door slid open and the sentries leveled their rifles at the pair.

 

Shen held his hands in the air, "Don't shoot! I'm on your side!" he panted. One of them fired anyway, hitting the wall above his head. Kaliyo drew but he pushed the muzzle down, “No!” he shouted, “Wait!”

 

“Don’t know you,” one of them rumbled, a male human the size of a small asteroid. He lumbered forward and pointed his rifle at Shen, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

 

“Name’s Syad,” Shen gasped, “Syad Baaht. This here’s Kaliyo Djannis. Saw your show. We want in. But you got bigger problems. Military’s in the port already. You’re gonna get grounded unless you lift now.”

 

“Hrumph,” the rifle came up, “And you know this how?”

 

Shen bent over, breathing hard as though still out of breath, “I been here a week looking for a ship to jump. Right after the explosion, saw a girl run for the hangars. She was the only one not looking at the sky. Port security was watching. They must have sent out an alert.”

 

“Mia never pays attention,” growled a voice form the back of the pack.

 

Human Asteroid hesitated, “Convenient.”

 

Good guess. Safe bet several of their people came in late and even odds one of them was female. “I want on your ship. I’m sick of this planet,” Shen said. Absolute truth, too. “Would I call security on you if I wanted a ride?” Asteroid shifted his rifle in indecision. Shen rolled his eyes, “How’s this. You take us with, stick us in a cargo hold or an airlock or whatever you want, someplace you figure we can’t do any damage. When we’re clear atmo and the planetary defense grid, you run whatever checks you like. But if you don’t move now you’re going to get nabbed. I just busted out of a slave camp, I am not going back in.”

 

Asteroid Man finally lowered his weapon, “Thought I heard of a Kaliyo on Brentaal IV.”

 

“That’s me,” Kaliyo agreed.

 

“Alright,” he grumbled, “Kissiae, escort these two jokers to the starboard airlock and seal it. Everyone else get on board, we’re leaving now. The Old Man can decide what to do with them.”

 

Shen’s heart leapt at the name. The Old Man meant Nar Shaddaa. The Old Man would vouch for him, this was going to be easy. Until he remembered that Sal’s Old Man had to be dead by now. And Sal with him. Their Old Man was somebody else.

(Reposted from the AU Short Fic Thread)

 

Interlude 1

 

Shen wedged himself between a bulkhead and some very important looking conduits. Kaliyo wormed her way in beside him as the little bulk freighter skipped through Dromund Kaas' atmosphere. The ship jumped and twitched left. She fell across his lap and he seized her arm before she slipped away. They groaned into a steep climb. Shen wheezed with the added mass as Kaliyo’s weight squished into his gut. His spine felt permanently flattened. Abruptly the ship reversed direction. For a moment Shen was glad for the extra weight as his organs tried to climb out his throat with negative g's.

 

The freighter leveled off. The ends of his lekku floated in the brief moment of zero gravity before the ship’s generator kicked on then they thumped to the deck. Kaliyo winked at him, "This could be fun," she said.

 

"Later," he grunted.

 

"Great idea. Did you forget they don't put acceleration couches in airlocks?" Kaliyo asked.

 

“Shut up.”

Interlude 2

 

Rogers looked over the files. “So what do you think?”

 

Mattij’s’ chair creaked in protest as he shifted his weight, “Dunno. They check out?”

 

“Yes,” Rogers said, “Kaliyo is Wheezer’s protégé. She was working for Nem’ro but she left Hutta when he signed with the Empire. Spaceport registry shows she was with an arms dealer then. Syad’s a rabble-rouser. No one’s heard from him in years; the file says he’s been in a remote labor camp. I don’t know how he got out. The Imps want him back.”

 

“So...keep ‘em or space ‘em?” Mattij asked.

 

Rogers paged through the reports. “You met them, what do you think?”

 

Mattij rubbed the tabletop with one thick finger, “Think I’d like assurances.”

 

“As would I,” Rogers agreed, her eyes finally rising to meet Mattij’s gaze, “Bring them to the common room.”

Eee. So happy to see this thread! Not that I don't mind the AU Thread "spamming" but yay more Agent!Shen and Kaliyo adventures.

“So...keep ‘em or space ‘em?” Mattij asked.

 

With the likes of Kaliyo and Shen, the answer to this should always be "space 'em." For the public good.

 

Subscribing the living heck out of this thread

With the likes of Kaliyo and Shen, the answer to this should always be "space 'em." For the public good.

 

Well, yes.

 

For a change, this story unfolded in a linear fashion, so a separate thread seemed to make sense. That and it seemed silly to write an episode then go back and try to find a prompt that fit.

 

Never thought my first thread would be an AU with Rixik/Shen.

Edited April 5, 2013 by Striges

Convince Me

 

 

Trigger Warning for violence

 

 

Shen rubbed his bruises. That last jink before the ship jumped to hyperspace knocked him out of his little cubbyhole in the airlock. He hit the exterior doors on his right side. Right arm, to be precise. It hurt. Wasn’t sure what bothered him more--the thought that he might have messed up his shooting arm, or that only a few centimeters of durasteel separated him from vacuum. Centimeters designed to open.

 

But they hadn’t. Fixer Twelve must have done his job. The Human Asteroid collected them both and brought them to the ship’s dingy common room. He and Kaliyo got the couch. Now they got an acceleration couch. Nice. The rest of the rabble gathered around in a rough circle. About fifteen, mostly humans but a few aliens among them. Crowded for a small ship like this. The air already tasted stale and oily.

 

One of the group stepped forward. A small woman with the brightest, most curly red hair Shen had ever seen on a Human. Or any species, for that matter. On redhead day, too. Human Asteroid flanked her. "So," the woman began, "what to do with you."

 

This was not a question, but Shen answered anyway, "Your scrubbers are in bad shape. You got parts, I can fix that."

 

"A kind offer," she replied, "and I may take you up on it. In a moment. Mattij, if you please?"

 

Human Asteroid lumbered toward Shen, "Show me the back of your neck," he rumbled. Shen frowned but obediently bent forward. Mattij's thick fingers rubbed at his old shock collar scars, and the patchy burned outline surrounding them. He must have been satisfied because Mattij withdrew. He moved to Kaliyo, “Left arm,” he demanded.

 

“Touch me and you draw back a bloody stump,” Kaliyo warned. Shen elbowed her.

 

Red Hair smiled, “The legendary Kaliyo temper. Tell me, where were you wounded during the Curovao bombing?”

 

“I wasn’t, idiot,” Kaliyo snarled, “you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

 

“Ah, yes. Perhaps I do,” Red Hair said, “That’s right. It was Lisha Tetch who was injured. A relative, perhaps?”

 

Kaliyo continued glaring. “No.”

 

“Well, regardless, your reputation precedes you,” Red Hair said, “both of you.”

 

Shen straightened, filing the information away for later, "That it?" he asked.

 

"One more little test first,"

 

Shen leaned back on the couch, "What kind of test?" he asked. Loyalty test should be next. Assuming their leader followed the revolutionary cell handbook.

 

Two other dissidents shoved through the gathering. Between them they carried a third. A young Human woman. Blonde, blue-eyed, perky button nose, the quintessential Imperial. Gagged and terrified, she wore a light grey Imperial Port Authority uniform. Tears streamed from her eyes. They forced her to her knees in the center of the room.

 

Red Hair folded her arms akimbo, “One of the port workers got a little too close as we were loading. Kill her,” she said to Shen. The prisoner’s eyes went wide and she struggled against her captors, but they held firm.

 

“Why me?” Shen asked. A fair question. Red Hair could have asked Kaliyo instead. He wanted to know why she hadn’t.

 

“I thought the last words she heard should come with an Imperial accent,” Red Hair said, “It seemed fitting she should die at the hands of a friend.”

 

Though a Twi’lek, Shen’s Syad Baaht was a Dromund Kaas native. Of course Shen adopted an Imperial accent for him. He’d listened to Keeper long enough it was easy. The leader of this cell was either a sadist or a nutjob. Maybe both. Shen stood. Whatever. “Big guy there has my blaster. Can I have it back?”

 

Red Hair shook her head, “No, not a blaster,” she tossed him an unactivated vibroknife, “with this.”

 

Shen snatched it out of the air. Dammit, why the hell did everyone think it was sexy to kill with knives? “Going to make a mess,” he objected, looking the knife over. Karking blade was a piece of crap, too. Lovely. “Your ‘fresher working? Easier to clean up in there.” Or the airlock, but he wasn’t giving Red Hair another opportunity to space him.

 

“Here,” she insisted.

 

“Suit yourself,” Shen replied. The woman’s struggles intensified as he approached, knife in hand. The dissidents wrestled her to submission. She looked up at him, tear filled eyes pleading for mercy. He activated the vibroblade. What a pain in the as*. She was going to bleed all over him, and he didn’t have a change of clothes.

 

Shen reached for her. She bucked against her captors. His fingers closed in hair that didn’t feel at all like what his eyes told him should be there when Red Hair stepped forward, “Stop!”

 

Shen held the knife near the blonde’s throat, “Change your mind about the ‘fresher?” he asked. What the hell was wrong with her hair? It was almost as though there was a different person under there. Like a costume. A holoimage costume. But holoimages were never in color and he’s never heard of the technology being used this way before.

 

“Release her, Syad,” Red Hair ordered.

 

“Make up your mind, lady,” Shen said, letting go of the woman’s hair and stepping back.

 

“Andy, Riis, let Mia go,” Red Hair said. The blonde stood, fiddled with a device on her belt, and in a moment she wasn’t a blonde Imperial Port Authority worker anymore. She was another of the dissidents, a dark skinned curvaceous woman. Much cuter than her disguise. One of the two--Andy or Riis, Shen wasn’t sure which--removed her gag. She wiped her eyes and rubbed her arms, refusing to meet Shen’s eye. Or Red Hair’s

 

“Congratulations, Syad Baaht. My name is Rogers, and these are my people,” Red Hair said, “Welcome to the Ghost Cell.”

I am seriously liking this story. Exciting new developments, eee!

Searching for Compressive Weakness

 

Shen wrenched the cover off the oxygen scrubber maintenance access. As he thought. Filthy. There was a wheeze and a grinding sound someplace farther back in the machinery that needed repair when the outside air was breathable. Not in hyperspace, that was for damn sure.

 

He heard a knock on the hatch. Mia stood in the archway with a toolbox and a thermoflask of stimcaf, “Rogers said I should help.”

 

“Yeah?” Shen asked, looking up from the machinery. He had to give Rogers credit, she was one slick operator. Could give Keeper a run for his money. Her loyalty test went both ways.

 

Mia’s fear was real. Shen’s recent refresher course in pretending fear convinced him of that. Sending her to watch the man who would have killed her kept that nerve open and screaming. So Rogers had a reason for scaring Mia and keeping her on edge. Shen hoped to find it and twist it to serve his purpose. A shame his induction into the cell cut off the chance of sleeping with her anytime soon, it would be a lot easier that way. Identifying with the cause was the next best avenue. Shen reached for the flask, “Fantastic acting job. I really believed you thought I would kill you. No hard feelings, hmm?" he asked. And flattery. Flattery went far.

 

"What? Oh," Mia said, handing over the caf, "No, no, ah, she wanted to be sure you didn't have any sympathy for the Imps."

 

Shen hopped up on the repair bench. On the other hand, coming on to her might pay dividends in a different way. Syad wouldn't suspect a deeper game. He poured two cups of caf and handed one to Mia. "Hate 'em," Shen said, "Don't know who you people are or why you want to kill them, but I want to be part of it.". He took a sip of his caf. Seemed like their fluids reprocessor was able to handle the load.

 

"Why do you?" Mia asked.

 

Shen swallowed another scalding mouthful, "Why do I what, want to kill Imps?" Mia nodded over her untouched cup. "I've been in a slave camp in the jungle for stars knows how long. That's reason enough. The sight of that ship falling out of the sky, raining fire and scrap all over glorious Kaas City, was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Let it all burn." he said. “Up to that time anyway. You’re much nicer than your fancy hologram. Mia, right? Got a last name or do we not use last names around here?”

 

“Hawkins. Mia Hawkins,” she replied.

 

“Syad Baaht,” he said, setting down his caf, “Sorry about the lousy introduction. I don’t suppose Rogers is up on social conventions.”

 

“No not really,” Mia said, glancing up at the air intake.

 

Cameras. These people were paranoid. Couldn’t really blame them, he supposed, “I’d try to bum a cigarette from you but I don’t think your scrubbers could handle it,” Shen said. "So where are we going, anyway? Hope it's not far."

 

Mia took a tentative sip of her caf, "A week," she said, "I can't say more." She looked down, "How did you learn about ships?"

 

So they got complete a file copy before jumping into hyper. Mia was checking his story. On orders, no doubt. "Did maintenance on my first owner's estate. Environmental systems are all about the same." He glanced at the open cover, "Funny. Right back where I started. I can still get killed if the air quits working."

 

Mia snorted in contempt, “Exaggerate much?” she asked.

 

"No, Sith take dehumidifiers seriously," Shen said. Good, good, she was warming up. "Please tell me we're going someplace dry."

 

Mia gave him a cynical grin. The first genuine expression he'd seen on her face besides fear, "Oh, it's dry all right," she said, "very dry."

Maintenance Records

 

 

Firedancer Operational Log

 

System Alerts: Kaas City Spaceport, Dromund Kaas

• 
   
  
• Fuel: critical
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance overdue. Periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 1826 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 78% efficiency. Dump tank at 15% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 65% efficiency. Dry tank at 10% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Structural: 86%
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Maps updating, allow one standard hour before computations to assure accuracy.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated two week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings. Recommend restocking to minimum four week range.
  

..................

 

System Alerts: Dromund Kaas Orbit

• 
   
  
• Fuel: 99.9998%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance overdue. Periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 1862 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement--
  

 

“Cut that damn thing off!” Rogers shouted from the copilot’s seat, “get us into hyperspace now!”

 

“Doing my best,” Zimian shouted. He pulled the ship into a steep climb, “Run the calcs for a 0.498 parsec coreward jump as soon as we’re out of the gravity well.”

 

“Our destination is rimward, Zimian!” Rogers countered.

 

“The better to send the Imps off on a wild gizka chase,” he said, pulling left, “Run the calcs!”

..................

 

System Alerts: Hyperspace Transit, starting point Dromund Kaas

• 
   
  
• Fuel: 99.9998%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance overdue. Periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 1863 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval. Estimated critical atmospheric imbalance within ten standard days at current oxygen consumption rates. Please consult maintenance recommendations for required repairs.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 78% efficiency. Dump tank at 98% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in three standard days.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 65% efficiency. Dry tank at 99% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in three standard days.
  
• Structural: 80%. Repair required to starboard landing gear Aurek-1. Complete retraction impossible. Repair required to exterior stern hull plating. Internal hull intact. Extent of exterior damage unknown pending physical inspection.
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Safe planetary entry trajectory calculations adjusted to shallow angle for operational and structural safety.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated sixteen week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings.
  

 

Mattij lead Shen through the narrow aft passageway. Shen paused in the engine room’s hatch, whistling in awe, “There’s a pretty thing. Hyperdrive?” he asked.

 

Mattij returned, “That’s right. Keep out.”

 

“Oh, wouldn’t dream of messing with it,” Shen said, “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire a nice piece of machinery. What’s her multiplier?”

 

“Point-seven,” Mattij said.

 

“No,” Shen said, “No way she’s point-seven. That’s fast cruiser speed. Little freighter like this? Point-three max.”

 

Mattij puffed up with pride, “She’s point-seven.”

 

Shen gave him a crooked grin, “She’s your baby, isn’t she? Modify her yourself?”

 

“Just the engines,” Mattij said, “come on, environmental’s down here.”

 

“I’m coming,” Shen said, giving the hyperdrive a longing look. He followed Mattij down the passage. Point-seven, huh? If he couldn’t get someone to give up a destination, travel time helped narrow down the possibilities.

..................

 

System Alerts: Hyperspace Transit, starting point vicinity Yavin system.

• 
   
  
• Fuel: 92%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance due in seven standard days. Periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 1887 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 78% efficiency. Dump tank at 90% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in one standard day.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 65% efficiency. Dry tank at 92% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in one standard day.
  
• Structural: 80%. Repair required to starboard landing gear Aurek-1. Complete retraction impossible. Repair required to exterior stern hull plating. Internal hull intact. Extent of exterior damage unknown pending physical inspection.
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency. Routine maintenance due in one standard day.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency. Routine maintenance due in one standard day.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Safe planetary entry trajectory calculations adjusted to shallow angle for operational and structural safety.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated fourteen week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings.
  

 

“Ha!” Kaliyo exulted, “that’s bust, Andy. Take it off,” she said, collecting her cards.

 

“Aw, come on, that’s not fair,” Andy complained, “I was at the end of my deck.”

 

Kaliyo leaned forward on her bare elbows, “You lost, Andy. Take it off.” The other half-dressed players around the table rumbled assent.

 

“One more hand, double or nothing,” Andy insisted.

 

“You don’t have double, Andy,” Kaliyo said, “everyone agreed, trousers is as far as we go. Misses the point of strip-pazaak, but whatever. Even spotted you boys one piece. Take. It. Off.”

 

Andy sighed, “All right, all right,” he said, standing. He unfastened his belt and dropped his trousers. Beneath them he wore briefs. Very brief briefs. Bright orange very brief briefs. The table exploded with laughter. “Go on, laugh it up, my girl likes ‘em,” he said, tossing his trousers on the pile of clothing on the corner of the common room. He sat back down and pointed at Kaliyo’s lacy black bra, “Like that’s not for your guy. What happened to the other one anyway?”

 

“Which other one?” Kaliyo asked. She collected the main deck cards and shuffled them.

 

“From Hutta,” Andy said, “the arms dealer.”

 

“Oh, that one,” Kaliyo said, “dumped him.”

 

“Why?” Andy pressed.

 

Kaliyo pushed the shuffled main deck toward Andy, “He promised me some special blasters. Prototypes, not on the market. Wanted me to test them out,” she smiled around the table, “turns out there was only one blaster, every guy has one, and it was nothing special. Dullsville.”

 

Raucous laughter filled the common room. Shen entered the room from aft and collected a nutrient bar from a crate on the floor. He took in the scene and gave her a questioning look. Kaliyo waved then went back to the game. Shen continued through to the port passageway. Humiliating jab, right on cue.

 

 

Note:

 

Oh I loved the last couple pieces! The introduction of Mia and Rogers, Shen's thought process to gather information (and his complete disregard for life). Their little loyalty test might work on some (hesitation/flinching/remorse) but I don't think they have any idea who they have.

 

No credit was necessary for the story format but thank you! You took my "grocery list" and turned it into a full fledged ship log. I loved the detail.

I was looking for a way to present some of the information when I remembered your story and it clicked. So I wanted to give you credit.

 

Glad you've enjoyed the progress so far. I enjoy getting feedback.

I'm loving this Look forward to more.

Ask and you shall receive

 

Maintenence Records (continued)

 

Firedancer Operational Log

 

System Alerts: Hyperspace Transit, starting point vicinity Yavin system. Estimated arrival at destination in 119 hours.

• 
   
  
• Fuel: 81%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance due in four standard days. Periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 1918 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 78% efficiency. Dump tank at 82% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 65% efficiency. Dry tank at 83% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due.
  
• Structural: 80%. Repair required to starboard landing gear Aurek-1. Complete retraction impossible. Repair required to exterior stern hull plating. Internal hull intact. Extent of exterior damage unknown pending physical inspection.
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency. Routine maintenance due.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency. Routine maintenance due.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Safe planetary entry trajectory calculations adjusted to shallow angle for operational and structural safety.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated twelve week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings.

 

Purple lighting, coruscating. The lie of his language dies first. Then the rest. Still his questioner is not satisfied. He screams his voice hoarse. A medic forces kolto down his throat, a temporary reprieve...

 

Shen woke with a start, and for a moment he did not remember where he was. Dark. The smell of too many bodies too close together. The woman beside him snored lightly. Kaliyo. He disentangled himself as current events filtered through the memories and his dream faded.

 

The terrorist's ship. Lights dimmed for sleep cycle. Nowhere near enough bunks for everybody. He and Kaliyo didn't rate one. Beings packed into every available space, including the escape pods. The more friendly couples got to share; besides the cockpit and the captain’s cabin (which was off limits), the pods were the only private spaces. He and Kaliyo curled into a corner of an empty rations crate padded with scraps of cushioning foam. Wasn't the first time he'd been cargo.

 

Shen was in no hurry to return to dreamland. He crept out of the crate and headed down the passageway to the 'fresher. He put a hand on the slide and pulled. It didn't open. Only then did he see the yellow "occupied" tag. Fantastic. He leaned against the opposite bulkhead.

 

He didn't wait long. The tag flipped green and the door opened, revealing a Duros, slender even for his species. "Sorry," he said, with what might have been a blush, "You the new guy?"

 

Shen faked a yawn, "Yeah. Syad Baaht," he said, "Didn't think there would be a line."

 

The Duros laughed, "Wouldn’t think so, would you? Guess it only takes one with one ‘fresher. I'm Zimian, by the way."

 

"Pilot?" Shen asked.

 

"Yup," Zimian agreed, "Mattij usually runs co- and gets the night shift but Rogers had us switch this trip.”

 

Shen yawned again, “You guys co-owners or something?”

 

“Naa, we just fly her,” Zimian said, “She’s registered to some corporation-or-other because it makes customs and stops so much easier. Port officials pester owner-operators, but it’s not worth their time to bother a peon employee.”

 

It was Shen’s turn to laugh, “Nice.” Clever, too. “Surprised you keep the cockpit manned. Crowded as you are, why not run on auto?”

 

Zimian shrugged, “We do run on auto, but Rogers likes to have a live body in there in case something goes wrong.”

 

“Ah,” Shen said, “Well, if you don’t mind,” he trailed off with a sort of nod toward the ‘fresher.

 

“Oh, right,” Zimian said, “sorry. I have to get back anyway.” The Duros headed back up toward the bow.

 

Shen let the ‘fresher door close and flipped it to “occupied”. So. Rogers wanted Mattij around when Syad was awake. Could be a coincidence but he didn't think so. Zimian was a crewmember he hadn’t met yet. And hadn’t counted. His appearance brought the population up to nineteen. Nineteen beings and five escape pods. Escape pods intended to evacuate two. Each.

 

One more didn’t change anything. The end of this trip was going to be crowded. And messy.

 

 

 

System Alerts: Hyperspace Transit, starting point vicinity Yavin system. Estimated arrival at destination in 87 hours.

• 
   
  
• Fuel: 68%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance due in three standard days. In-flight periodic maintenance performed, full periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 2069 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 77% efficiency. Dump tank at 73% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 65% efficiency. Dry tank at 75% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Structural: 80%. Repair required to starboard landing gear Aurek-1. Complete retraction impossible. Repair required to exterior stern hull plating. Internal hull intact. Extent of exterior damage unknown pending physical inspection.
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Safe planetary entry trajectory calculations adjusted to shallow angle for operational and structural safety.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated nine week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings.

 

Mia wrapped her fingers under the edge while Shen shoved the lifter under the deckplate. The heavy plate slid off with a screech. The weight suddenly relieved, Mia tumbled backwards into Shen, knocking them both against the bulkhead with a grunt. She landed in his lap. Skittered out just as quickly. “Whoah,” Shen said, letting his fingers linger on her arm, “what’s the rush?”

 

Mia started to draw her legs up and forced herself to stop, “You have things to do,” she said.

 

“Nothing can’t wait for a bit,” Shen said. In truth, he didn’t need anything under this part of the deck. He spiked a couple of datafeeds and the backup computer control early on, so he didn’t need to mess with most of these systems. There just wasn’t anyplace to hide a camera nearby. The whole exploration was an excuse to figure out what was between Mia and Rogers. And drive the wedge deeper.

 

“Aren’t you with Kaliyo?” Mia asked.

 

“Not like we’re exclusive,” he said with a grin, “and you are much better looking. Not to mention better with tools.”

 

Mia folded her arms over her chest, “I’m really not interested.”

 

“Fair enough,” Shen clambered back toward the open cover, “Thought maybe you kinda liked me. Volunteered. You know, for Rogers’ test and afterward. It’s not as though you were in any danger.”

 

“Of...course not,” Mia agreed.

 

Yeah, didn’t think that was an act. “You said it was all for show,” he went on, looking into the tangled mess beneath the deckplate, “Rogers wouldn’t have let me kill one of her people,” he said, shoving the wiring around. Mia said nothing and Shen looked at her over his shoulder, “I mean, if you’d really been an Imp, that would have been different,” he resumed digging through the wires.

 

“You would have killed me. Did as she asked,” Mia said.

 

She did well, keeping the tremor out of her voice. It was the pause that gave it away. So what was her problem? Killing in general, or the fanaticism? What the hell kind of terrorist had a problem with fanaticism and killing? The kind on the bad side of her cell leader, that’s what kind, he thought, answering his own question. All right, time to see which she objected to. “Kill an Imp?” Shen said, “sure.”

 

“Even a dockworker?”

 

“Imp dockworker.”

 

“Not part of the military or Sith?” Mia asked.

 

Shen backed out of the hole and sat on the deck. Mia had no stomach for collateral damage. He could work with that. “They’re Imps. You think someone has to be military or Sith to be worth killing? The animals running the camp I left were civilian. Every time I go to sleep, I worry I'm going to wake up cramped in the penalty box and discover all this is a hallucination." Let Mia figure out what penalty boxes were. He wasn't making them up.

 

Mia turned away, "I know. We're supposed to show the people we're right. That the power structure is in the wrong. How can they come over to our side if we kill them too?"

 

Ideals too. So naive. "People don’t pay attention to anything until you hit them in the face. Unless they’re breathing the smoke and feeling the heat, they’ll sit fat and happy while everything burns. If you wanted to hit military targets, you should have joined the military."

 

Mia’s pretty brow furrowed, “I understand the need to get the people’s attention. But the way we're going about it, there’s no room for compromise. The Imps won’t--

 

“Won’t what?” Shen interrupted, pulling his lekku over his shoulders so they hung down in front of him, "I'm an alien, Mia. To Imps, I'm less than a thing. There’s no compromise,” he said bitterly. Syad was a little too easy to play, particularly around these people. Shen shifted forward, "I thought you understood."

 

"There are aliens I'm the movement--"

 

“And I bet you’re friends with them all,” Shen said.

 

Mia said nothing. Shen went back to his wiring. There was an outside chance she’d go running to to the Republic, but not if he put Keeper on her trail first.

 

Guilt was a wonderful thing.

 

 

 

System Alerts: Hyperspace Transit, starting point vicinity Yavin system. Estimated arrival at destination in 59 hours.

• 
   
   
  
• Fuel: 57%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance due in two standard days. Full periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 2097 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 77% efficiency. Dump tank at 63% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in five standard days.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 64% efficiency. Dry tank at 66% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Structural: 80%. Repair required to starboard landing gear Aurek-1. Complete retraction impossible. Repair required to exterior stern hull plating. Internal hull intact. Extent of exterior damage unknown pending physical inspection.
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency. Routine maintenance overdue.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency. Routine maintenance due in seven standard days.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Safe planetary entry trajectory calculations adjusted to shallow angle for operational and structural safety.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated seven week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings.

 

Kaliyo shoved Mia against the bulkhead, "You keep away from him, got it?". She snarled.

 

Mia scowled, "From who?" she asked.

 

"Syad. He's mine," Kaliyo growled.

 

“I don’t want him,” Mia said, pushing back, “You keep him.”

 

“Just so we’re clear,” Kaliyo said, “I’ll kill you for real, pretty face.”

 

Mia twisted out of Kaliyo’s grip, “Like to see you try. I have friends here.”

 

Kaliyo stepped back with a wry smile, “Never said anything about when, pretty face. Or where.” She patted Mia’s cheek and sauntered back down the passageway.

 

Around the corner, she found Shen checking the recycling system readouts. She seized him and pulled him into a passionate embrace, stroking his lekku and nibbling on his ear, “How’d I do?” she whispered.

 

“Perfect, mesh’la-mesh’la,” he whispered back.

 

 

 

System Alerts: Hyperspace Transit, starting point vicinity Yavin system. Estimated arrival at destination in 39 hours.

• 
   
   
  
• Fuel: 46%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance due in one standard day. Full periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 2117 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 77% efficiency. Dump tank at 53% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in four standard days.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 64% efficiency. Dry tank at 57% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in five standard days.
  
• Structural: 80%. Repair required to starboard landing gear Aurek-1. Complete retraction impossible. Repair required to exterior stern hull plating. Internal hull intact. Extent of exterior damage unknown pending physical inspection.
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency. Routine maintenance in progress.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency. Routine maintenance due in six standard days.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Safe planetary entry trajectory calculations adjusted to shallow angle for operational and structural safety.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated five week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings.

 

“Why you always messing around with the ship’s systems, Syad?” Riis asked.

 

“So I don’t go stir crazy,” Shen replied from behind a conduit.

 

“They don’t need it,” Riis insisted.

 

“I need it,” Shen said, sitting back on his heels and resting his arms on the structure..

 

“Normal people play pazaak,” Riis said, leaning against the bulkhead, “Or clean weapons, or read, or something. Not make more work for themselves.”

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but this ship isn’t exactly full of normal people. Myself included,” Shen said. It was only a matter of time before someone got suspicious about his constant “repairs”. Funny thing was, the little ship really did need a lot of maintenance, and it was in his best interest to keep her airtight and flying for now.

 

Shen set down the hydrospanner, “I’m a lousy gambler and I don’t want to lose my shirt to Kaliyo at pazaak. Literally. Again. Mattij still has my blaster and I didn’t pack for a vacation. Hell, I never even had a vacation. I need to keep my hands busy.” Riis was not quite convinced. “There’s no Imps to kill on this ship and not enough privacy for anything else,” Shen said, noting Riis’ little eye twitch at his last comment. Riis was one half of a couple that got a pod. Shen held out his hands, dirty from his expedition behind the conduits, “so I fix things.”

 

“Yeah, I see you fixing things,” Riis growled.

 

“Look, you give me and Kaliyo one of those escape pods and I swear you won’t see either of us except to use the ‘fresher or get ration packs,” Shen said, “Deal?”

 

Riis snorted and levered himself off the bulkhead, “No deal. I got my eye on you, Syad,” he said. He turned on his heel and left.

 

Shen went back to the electronics. Oh well, it never hurt to try. If Mia’s statement was correct, they’d hit planet in about a day and a half. Wished he had a better idea of what planet it was. “Dry” and “a week” from Dromund Kaas on a point-seven hyperdrive still left a lot of options open.

Oh, Mia. I just did her questline on Tatooine. Nudge, nudge nudge, a little more doubt and disgust...poor Mia.

Maintenance Reports (continued)

 

Firedancer Operational Log.

 

System Alerts: Hyperspace Transit, starting point vicinity Yavin system. Estimated arrival at destination in 9 hours.

• 
   
  
• Fuel: 38%
  
• Atmospheric Regulatory System: Routine maintenance due. Full periodic maintenance overdue. Notification: Part J-3 Magnetic Impeller Central Unit 2147 hours past manufacturer’s recommended replacement interval.
  
• Fluids Reprocessing: 77% efficiency. Dump tank at 43% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in three standard days.
  
• Solid Refuse Management: 64% efficiency. Dry tank at 49% capacity remaining. Routine maintenance due in four standard days.
  
• Structural: 80%. Repair required to starboard landing gear Aurek-1. Complete retraction impossible. Repair required to exterior stern hull plating. Internal hull intact. Extent of exterior damage unknown pending physical inspection.
  
• Sublight Engines: 90% efficiency. Routine maintenance due in seven standard days.
  
• Hyperdrive: 93% efficiency. Routine maintenance due in five standard days.
  
• Navigational and Computer: Safe planetary entry trajectory calculations adjusted to shallow angle for operational and structural safety.
  
• Noncritical systems: Consumables estimated three week range at high consumption rate for standard crew complement of five organic beings.

 

 

Rogers assembled the cell in the common room. Mattej included. The ship must be running on auto or poor Zimian was running on stims.

 

"We are nearing our destination,” she began, “Some of you have been here before, others have heard rumors. Some of you we have watched for a long time,” she nodded at several members, “Some of you are new to us." She looked at Shen and Kaliyo as she said her last sentence, "But all of you have the qualities we seek. Ruthlessness. Cleverness. Tenacity. Above all, commitment to the cause. The desire to be part of something greater than yourselves. Many paths led you here, but in the end you share the most noble of destinations.

 

"In a few short hours we arrive. I will hand you over to our best, most valued champion. He has been many people and called many names, but you will know him as we do. By a simple description. The Old Man. He has forgotten more about assassination and sabotage than the rest of you know right now, combined. It is our good fortune that he chooses to impart these secrets to many, rather than keep them secret and take them to his grave as so many in our business do. He will become your advisor, your mentor, your father. When you complete his training, the ghost cell will become your family.

 

“Every one of you has lost something to the Empire. Relatives. Worlds. Freedom. Dignity,” and again, Rogers chose particular cell members to lock eyes with at each word, “The Old Man will give you the tools you need to take it back.”

 

Shen joined in the cell’s general applause and cheering. He had to hand it to Rogers, she knew how to give a good recruitment speech. And her public speaking skills were outstanding. She picked him to look at for “freedom”. Syad was definitely too easy to be around these people.

 

Rogers waited for the tumult to die down, "All of you have been mere cogs in the great machine that is the Eagle's network. Prepare to become one of the drivers,” she concluded.

 

Rogers waited for another round of applause and cheering to fade, “We begin final approach in less than nine hours. I will bring you all together again at that time for your final instructions. Collect your things and get ready. Your new life begins shortly.”

 

The dissidents filtered out to the various corners they’d claimed during their overcrowded voyage. Neither Shen nor Kaliyo had anything in the way of belongings. Kaliyo dug through the ever-dwindling supply of ration packs for something without an Imperial label. Shen consulted his loaner datapad. All his spikes were still in place and operational. Datafeeds merrily downloading into the pad’s removable memory core. He still owned the backup computer, and the door to the main was ready. In about nine hours, he’d find out if he was more clever than Rogers and her cell.

 

What was the old saying about hypertravel? Long stretches of mind-numbing boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror?

 

Punctuation incoming.

Edited April 12, 2013 by Striges