Sturm lowered the macrobinoculars from his eyes.

“I’d guess there’s twenty real threats, maybe about fifty office workers or civie droids.”

“Oh, we can take them.”

“But can we take them quietly?” murmured Sturm, handing the macrobinoculars to Wavy, “or at least quick enough that they can’t catch us.”

“Explosives?”

Sturm shook his head, “We’re bound to somehow hurt someone who shouldn’t, or at least our side will be blamed for hurting someone with explosives. We should pull something like we did at that Xucphra plantation…”



Twenty minutes later…

Sturm stared at the street; biding his time until the right moment appeared. A hutt’s slime trail ran thinner the traffic in the area. The truck had already started up five times, and before shutting down five more times. Ordinary life on Foerost resisted his every move so far. Finally, Sturm tentatively started the truck up once again.

“You’re going to get us killed,” muttered Wavy, “and more importantly, your insurance premiums are going to skyrocket after this…”

“It’s okay, they won’t know its me. Ready? Of course you are. Let’s go.”

The speeder truck rocketed through the streets with its horn incessantly blaring. It ran through the red light at the corner, nearly clipping a Guard personnel carrier, before smashing through the gates of the headquarters under a torrent of guardsmen fire. As the durasteel gates hit with a clatter, the truck sped mindlessly forward on its one way course…right into the lead truck of the Guard convoy leaving the compound. The collision would be heard for at least a kilometer around. No fire erupted from the two, though the resistance truck now lacked most its cab, while the Guard’s truck had been sloppily bisected into uneven pieces. Together, the two vehicles created a lopsided T. Yet the horn still blared from the Alliance truck, drowning out the cries of the wounded and calls of bystanders. People rushed from all over to help the crash victims. Sturm and Wavy jogged with the mass of sympathetic bystanders pass the now-abandoned sentry posts at the gate. But while the crowd all milled around the vehicles and wounded, Sturm and Wavy slipped pass to the building itself.

“Halt!” demanded a voice, barely audible in the pandemonium of chaos.

Sturm and Wavy stopped to face the guard still stoically standing next to the doorway to the building. Oh sure, you won’t go to help your buddies there, huh? I’m sure they’re all in great shape…you just have to be some inhuman son of a gun... Sturm glared at the Guard.

“The sergeant over there told us that you have first aid kits in the building. Some of the big emergency relief kits used in natural disasters. They need them sir,” said Sturm, “can you get them for us?”

The soldier frowned. “The kits are too big for one person, and I don’t have authorization to let them go out.”

“And do you have authorization to let them die?” spat out Wavy, “what? You think that they have enough medical supplies to help the dozen or so wounded in those trucks? Have some compassion here for your fellow man…your fellow Guard...”

“Ambulances-”

“Do you hear or see any ambulances?” interrupted Sturm, “because I don’t. And do you know why? Because they’re too busy shuttling injured rioters and police to the hospital. You’re just another blip on their screen that needs their help in a list of backlogged emergencies.”

The Guard shook his head. Sturm shook his head. Wavy let the sentry slowly slide against the wall into the dust. Sometimes you’re too good for your own sake…the guy should be out for fifteen minutes at least. Stun setting on the Intimidator isn’t that great. Sturm quickly reholstered the blaster pistol at point-blank range. Wavy snatched the ID card from the guard, and the two entered the building.

Huddles of whimpering civilians and other resistance fighters greeted them. Several members of Blue team bothered to acknowledge the newcomers’ presence. Wavy turned around to lock the door behind them. A hand clasped his shoulder.

“Worked out well…the guards at the maintenance entrance simply ran away when they heard the autopiloted truck collision…we slipped in and got them all taken care of just before you walked in.”

“Any resistance?” questioned Sturm.

“There were two guards still here trying to figure out what was going on…but they didn’t do anything…probably a good thing when they had eight blasters trained on them.”

“They’ll be suitable,” decided Sturm, “they’re going to come with us. As for the rest of them here, take them out to the loading dock. They won’t want to be around here.”

Crown raised his voice, “All right everyone, get your prisoners moving out to the loading dock…”

Sturm didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the man’s instructions but pivoted to face Wavy.

“I want one of these desktop computers taken…Crafty may have some use for it later on, and it can’t hurt to at least figure out what their basic security is on these computers…”

“I’m on it.”

Sturm stormed pass the workers being hustled about to the loading dock; pass the irate resistance fighters; pass the rows of office cubicles. He glanced above him. Apparently that’s where the armory is and the actual barracks are…He tapped the turbolift button. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a trio of resistance fighters pushing a repulsorsled of weapons.

“Do you have incendiary agents in there?” questioned Sturm.

“Nope, nada,” said an alien, “but there is a bunch of alcohol in the mess fridge…”

“That’ll work, thanks.”

A turbolift and two hallways later, Sturm hurriedly opened the refrigerator. Oh really? That’s it? Not enough, and a waste of good alcohol. Sturm snatched the few bottles of high grade alcohol and dashed back to the turbolift, where Wavy grimly greeted him.

“We’re too slow,” cursed the man, “the Guard is already trying to get back in. They’re pounding at the door…”

Sturm handed him a bottle, “We’d better get the housewarming fire going then.”

“This isn’t going to be enough to take down the entire place, not even with the fire safety systems disabled…”

“We’re just going to have to burn down the office section then. You’ve got Crown and his people going.”

“Only a few with the weapons and that computer. The rest of them are still here, keeping the door shut.”

“How? That’s not something you can easily do…”

“They shot up the door controls and servo-motors…they’re going to have to pry those blast doors open to get to us.”

“See? You locked them out…”

“…of the front door…” finished Wavy.


Back at the safehouse...

The door swung open to reveal a muscular man with shoulder-length, wavy black hair, carmel skin, and intense hazel eyes. He slowly stretched out a hand to Lavality as if to shake her hand. He lightly cleared his throat.

"People call me Ainov, I understand that you are friends who want to help Lucian? It would be my greatest pleasure to introduce you to him."

The man hesitated; finally noting Lavality's apparent youth. He briefly glanced at a datapad he held in his hand. Ainov's eyes bored into Lavality's.

"...if this is a joke I do hope you know what you're about to get yourselves involved in...the Guard doesn't differentiate between pranksters and real freedom fighters..."


Back at the Palace...

Casimir gazed into his eyes with a gentle approval.

"Dear, you should come as yourself, as a servant of Foerost. We must show the people that we are in fact substance and not style. We don't need to show off trinkets and baubles that will further excaberate the less well off while we try to think of ways to help them. Besides, your military uniform makes you seem rather dashing. There's something about its cut that makes you look truly like my valiant knight..."

Lavalitie's upper brow twitched. She had always hated her height, it proved to be much of a problem but it had its usefulness. "Irregardless of that," she said. "I think it's best we meet Lucian. The longer we stay here, the better the chances of us being detected," she said in a serious tone.

She tapped her lightsabre thoughtfully and mentally smiled. Kasyyk, what do you think of this man?

She felt a cold sensation enter her brain; she then heard breathing, yet it wasn't coming from her ears but more so from somewhere inside her brain.

I think we can trust him, Kasyyk said. But I'd keep an eye on him regardless. she added.

" Sir! The whole place is a mess. Multiple patrols have gone missing and we have lost control of sector B."

Lorn scowled at the frightened lieutenant. " Pull Sectors A and C back. I want the regrouped at the Grid block Echo, close as they can to the palace. They are trying to take us en echelon. Make sure they don't overwhelm our flanks. As soon as we get the order we will execute a right wheel and mop this mess up." He turned back to the blast door. Apparently, someone had succeeded in breaking into the compound. Well, too bad they didn't succeed in blocking all the exits. Lorn backed off and let four squads of security troopers armed and ready charge through the west wing door. He grabbed a nearby aide. " Get me more men. Tell them to send an advance team around to hit them from the south. And get somebody to put the charges on the main blast door. If they keep control of this compound we will lose this fight."

Well, being a newly promoted Lt. General of the Guards wasn't so bad. The only problem was how the previous one died. Shot. By General Huo. A flock of staff rushed in and Lorn found himself staring into the face of the commanding General Huo. " General, we have succeeded in gaining access to the west entrance. But the main one is still blocked by those stanged blast doors."

Huo turned and surveyed the operation. " Is the Thermal Detonator Tape in place?"

" Almost, sir." At that moment an aide rushed up and whispered in Lorn's ear. He turned with a satisfied grin on his face. " Its in place sir."

" Good. Blow the doors down and launch glop grenades after them. We will show them what happens to dissenters on Foerost."

5....4....3....2....1

Ainov raised an eye, noting the several people behind her, all of whom clearly were older. The man hesitated again. So quick to enter a conflict that they don’t know much about. And they’re offworlders…and that girl…is a girl…a bit young. But I suppose that will make excellent cover for her too. Who would harm a youngster like that?

“I see. We should get going. I suppose you do have everything packed up, and those are your speeders, yes? Excellent. Get in, and follow me.”

Ten minutes later, red team was tailing Ainov’s cab as it lazily weaved in and out of traffic. The sights, sounds, and smells of the arid industrious world permeated their every turn. Finally, Ainov’s cab abruptly rose off a side street and slipped into a private garage in a towering apartment building. All of the speeders entered the maw-like cavity and set down among a dozen or so people wearing a variety of clothing styles but all in the green of the Couric Party. Ainov himself slipped on a green armband for the occasion as he moved to greet them.

“Welcome to the Couric Party’s unofficial headquarters…Lucian has been staying here every since the official Couric Party office was raided by the Guard…but enough talk, let me take you to him.”

Ainov led the Alliance members from the garage into the safe house itself. They were met by more people in green, making most of the Alliance party stick out. Lucian almost immediately picked out the newcomers before any of the resistance fighters could see him. Del Styx was a slightly pudgy man with amber eyes and almost hazelwood-colored hair. He seemed to exude the aura of a quiet man used to getting his way. He approached the group with an outstretched hand.

“Ainov, good to see you again. And you might the rest of you be?”



Sturm rapidly typed commands into the security console. Blast door after blast door blocked up the entrances; preventing any of the Guards from getting back in. One the security feed, the detonate tape did its work: the main blast door fell down with a surprisingly quiet thunk to reveal a blazing barricade of upturned office cubicles and computers. Getting through that would take some time...I dare them to pour water on it, since it’s a partially an electrical fire… Sturm glanced to the guy next to him.

“How’s your part going Wavy?”

“Give me a second…and we’re good. I’ve overloaded the generator to blow up in less than seven minutes…”

“Well, let’s go,” said Sturm, snatching up his blaster pistol.

The two resistance fighters grabbed the pair of Revolution Guards captured by Crown and his men. Both of the prisoners were gagged and blind-folded. Sturm roughly grabbed the neck of his man and pushed it down; forcing the prisoner to stumble along like a hunch back. The man cursed. Sturm offered a grim smile.

“Look at it this way. When I die, you do too…you make a better shield than a weapon…”

"The name's Lavality," Lavality responded amongst the team. "We are here to provide protection but also to get to the bottom of this," he looked around the room and nodded satisfactory.

The rest of the team didn't say much of a word, instead letting Lavality do all the talking.

"Dearest, you look stunning as when I first met you," blushed Casimir, "you must really make it a point to look this good more often."

The coffee-skinned woman lightly grabbed his hand; leading him towards the spiral stair case. Casimir herself seemed almost semi-divine; her chaste light grey evening gown clung to her like an insecure lover. Her gleaming silver eyes seemed to entrap the gaze of every man's she met. Her every pout or wrinkle of the lip kept men's eyes unnaturally glued to her every movement. Heaven to most consorts, hell to any companion trying to avoid attention or jealously, maybe. Casimir drew him closer to her and the fragrant aura of her sandalwood based perfume. With a smile blossoming across her face, she offered him a light kiss to the cheek.

"Come on dear, we can't keep them waiting forever."

The two descended down the alabaster staircase into a sea of formal wear: designer tuxedoes, the lastest dresses, and the fashion creations of a hundred elite designers. Ghost almost seemed underdressed for the occasion, if not for the presence of another dozen high-ranking military officers wearing their own dress uniforms. One exchanged a brief look of beleagured cameradie with the Alliance agent...before his gaze turned towards the President tightly gripping his hand.


Couric Party Unofficial Headquarters...


"The bottom of this," considered Lucian absently, "well, that's the trick of it. If any of us could do that, half of our problem would be no solved. No, all of it would be solved, because I would officially become President..."

The man let a brief smile flutter across his face.

"...but I don't look quite as good as President Harloch in the holos. Appearance is everything, or so it would seem. The base of all power and legitimacy. Speaking of which, I must work on my own-"

A woman old enough to be his mom grabbed his arm, "You can't make that speech today. If you do-"

"I must," countered del Styx, "if I and any other reformers fade into the background, the movement loses steam and corruption rears its beautiful face in victory. Authenticity is strength, and I won't reduce myself to merely becoming some pretty object that will somehow save Foerost from itself. I must speak; others must be reminded of our message."

"Sir, about that..." stammered an aide, abruptly guiding the leader away to a secluded corner.

Ainov grimaced, "Lucian wants to address the protesters holding a vigil at the Republic Naval Memorial at seven. It technically would be an unannounced visit, but rumors are already circulating around the datanets that he's going to show up. I'm willing to bet that the Guard will send someone there to take him out if he shows up. Perhaps a grab team or an assassin of some sort. You should go there now and check things out, maybe even establish a safe zone for him when he arrives to talk. Come, I will take you there."

Twenty minutes of landspeeder travel took the team through the crowded streets of the capitol to the Republic Naval Memorial. As dusk set, the sun's last rays passed through the crystalline statues depicting Old Republic starships to illuminate the names of the deceased soldiers inscribed in the massive square of black marble walls. Within the square itself, countless peoples wearing nondescript clothing milled about in a circle holding protest signs. The more bold of the crowd still wore their Couric green garb and shouted offensively at the few officers who quietly observed the crowd. The dozen or so visible police seemed eerily at ease, particularly considering the scores of more hardcore protesters routinely dropping by to harass them.



Sturm wrinkled his nose. By the maker, that plastic crap they make everything out of these days smells awful...when it's burning...Sturm shoved his prisoner through the doorway before him, eliciting a couple of surprised shouts and the whine of the blaster. The man cried out in pain and fell into the floor in twisted movement worthy of winning an Oscar. Sturm merely pulled the trigger of his pistol, rapidly gunning down the surprised Revolutionary Guard who now appeared in the doorway. Idiot...shooting up the first thing that pops through a door...you hurt your friend, and I hurt you worse. The newcomer collapsed onto the floor gripping a crimson hole in his chest. Sturm winced. He can't recover from that...

"I'm sorry," apologized Sturm.

A trio of bolts surged from his blaster into the man's upper torso. The corpse wavered and toppled onto the ground. Sturm glanced into the room and entered it. He lightly kicked the body. No reaction. He's gone. The resistance fighter pulled up his prisoner by the cufflinks.

"They don't train you guys that well, do they?" lightly smiled Sturm, "I mean, which one of you instinctively shoots a guy's ankle? I think you'll end up all right. Come on. We're almost out of this."

Wavy entered, bereft of his man, who unfortunately had taken an overzealous fire squad's worth of shots from the sole group of Revolutionary guards who had managed to enter before the blast doors closed everything off. The other man drew his comlink.

"I think it's time to give them a heads up," suggested the Thyferran native.

"Do it," agreed Sturm.

Wavy held the button on the general frequency button, "Attention all nearby personnel, evacuate the premises immediately. The generator will explode in four minutes."

The man slipped the comlink back into his pocket. Sturm shook his head.

"Was that your attempt to be base security?" questioned Sturm.

"Yeah, but it's an excuse for them to save their own lives...can't say that they have to run because some rebel said to...but if it might be one of their own guys, they're more likely to listen, I hope."

"Me too," agreed Sturm, "we've already shed too much blood."

Lavality looked over the assemplly of protestors. She could feel that some weren't there for harming, but others not so certain. She also could feel anxiety from the officers and the hatred by some of them was already getting to her. fight it... she said as she resisted the temptation. Being a jedi and all, hatred and loathing were like poison.

She disembarked from the speeder and surveyed the area. Her mind was alreayd at work thinking up of a plan to protect Locian. Several high area's near by would provide a sniper with a perfect angle while other buildings, such as a near by garage, would provide a good escape route since she figured that it had multiple exits that would be hard to cover.

Not surprising, she also suspected the officers themselves of possibly doing the grab. She tapped two of her team on the shoulder and whipsered into their ears. They nodded and filed out to check on the area. "What can you tell me about this memorial? Any passages under it?" she asked the Ainov quietly, yet just loud enough so only he would hear.

Whisper grinned to the woman on his arm as he did his typical quick surveillance of the room to fin anything out of place.

"I think they may be jealous of you, love."
He took her hand and gently led her out amongst the people.

"Shall we talk, or dance first?"

Presidential Palace...

"Shall we talk, or dance first?"

"Talk?" grinned the President, "don't we do that already...I mean, we're talking right now...we do that all time...but you mister...you never are around for this-"

With a coquettish smile, the woman dragged Whisper onto the ballroom’s dance floor.



"What can you tell me about this memorial? Any passages under it?"

Ainov blinked in surprise, “Well, there probably is. At least for sewage and other public utilities, I would imagine. Nothing else that I’m aware of.”



“Get into it, now.”

Sturm shoved the wounded Revolutionary Guard into the backseat of the landspeeder. The man let out an anguished cry which seemed blurred between a plea and protest. Wavy glanced at Sturm with wrinkled brow from the driver’s seat of the Revolutionary Guard airspeeder. Sturm jumped into seat next to the prisoner.

“Time?” questioned Sturm.

“Two minutes,” answered Wavy, powering up the craft.

The airspeeder flew off the building’s pad into the darkening sky of the Foerost. Sturm constantly glanced back out of the rear window at the base. Three minutes passed before the complex to collapse into itself, with the walls and roofing falling down into an irrecognizable mess. Sturm frowned.

“Is that suppose to happen?”

“Yeah,” replied Wavy, “the overload was pretty small, mostly to prevent us from hurting anyone else, so it would have only disintegrated the basement, along with all of the supports for the building.”

“Nice,” said Sturm, “not as satisifying as a ginormous explosion, but still nice.”

You don't know much about your own city... thought Lavality with a mental sigh. "Well, I guess we won't have to worry about it as long as no one decides to try and kidnap him," she said and looked around.

"Tell me about the buildings in this area, other than the obvious high rises I can see," she said with a small smile. Her intention was to see how much this aide had thought ahead, to help her determine whether she could rely on him or not.