Undisclosed Location, Kashan

The Kashan forest was teeming with life. Birds gaily fluttered among the dense coniferous forest into the tawny prairie clearing. Large herbivores, lazily grazed and plodded around the edges of forest. In the middle of the meadow clearing stood twelve dozen stony faced statues; all of them a dull gray colour. There could be no mistaking them for live targets. Across the plain, their predecessors lay scattered among the reeds, charred and broken asunder. Among the cacophony of forest noises, a sole civilized voice rose up.

“Mark! Fire!”

A dozen grey blurs silently surged forth from the edges of the trees to slam into their targets. One blur hit its target head-on smashing it into a multitude of shards. Lifting his eye from the scope, Adrian viewed his handiwork. It looks like that I got that one right. His shot had hit his ceramic target dummy dead-on. What was once the statues head was scattered across the firing range’s meadowy floor, and heavy carbon scoring scarred the upper neck of the target.

Adrian gazed across the targets of the firing range. All but one had taken direct hits. Aside from the head, the most obvious, and chosen target, had been the heart. What once had been the statue's breast was now a smoking, gaping hole.

The sniper instructor, the man who had given the order to fire, walked up and down the line of Confederate snipers, giving advice and chastising those who had less than perfect aim. He stopped at Adrian’s position, looked out at the incinerated target, and then at Susevfian, who had continued to lay down in the prone position from which he had fired the gun.

“What’s your name son?” questioned the instructor.

A swell of pride rose up in the younger man.

“Ravenna, sir,” replied the operative.

“Well Ravenna,” stated the instructor tersely, “you’re a pretty decent shot. One thing though.”

“Yes sir?”

“It’s obvious that your shot hit its head somewhere, and with the power of the CCA-9, that’s all you’ll ever need,” commented the instructor, “but your shot must been have slightly off center, otherwise the head would have been completely incinerated, and you wouldn’t see those ceramic bits scattered about. I know it’s a picky point, but there’s a good chance you won’t always have the CCA-9, but instead some less powerful weapon, and then it could have to be accurate to the centimeter. Try again next round. I want it to get completely incinerated.”

“Yes sir,” mustered back Adrian.

The instructor walked on to give more recruits his advice. Adrian lightly grumbled about the instructor trying to continually push them to excellence. I have yet to hear this grizzled instructor give any worthwhile praise after seven volleys. What a prick. The snipers had started out at two hundred fifty meters away from their targets, and after each successive volley, the distance between the target and the sniper was increased by a hundred. Now, on their eighth volley, Adrian was going to be firing at ranges over three times longer than the distance the average blaster rifle could shoot at. The operative twitched, his limbs slightly jerking through the dirt as the instructor bellowed for his marksmen to select their next target.

Ravenna lowered his head to the rifle’s butt, his eye peering into the scope. Even with the CCA-9’s advanced scope, the dummy was a small pinprick in a sea of yellow. His right hand gripped the pistol grip and its associated trigger. With his left hand, he slowly adjusted the dial on the rifle’s scope, zooming it in and out of clarity until he finally got the most defined clarity possible; it was still a hazy outline. He deeply exhaled and drew in air just as deeply. Slowly breathing in and out, Adrian concentrated on his target. The sounds of the chirping birds, the rustling of the forest leaves, even the murmurs of Confederate snipers laying several meters away from him, were completely blocked out. The operative channeled every ounce of his energy into focusing on the distant target. Gradually, as he concentrated, the fuzzy target became clearer and clearer until the target loomed in his scope. Adrian now easily handled the rifle so that the scope’s crosshairs settled over the very center of the target’s head. He blinked and instinctively pulled the trigger.

A burst of grey surged forward, nearly silent, through the meadowy plains of Kashan. Through the scope, Adrian see the bolt, which moved abnormally slow compared to when he had fired the weapon before. It was as if the supercharged bolt was a projectile slowly pushing its way through water. Several seconds seemed to have passed in Adrian’s mind when it finally approached the target. Ravenna watched the bolt’s approach with pained anticipation. The grey blur slowly connected with the target’s head, in the very center. A direct, perfect hit. The dummy’s head melted and dissipated into a brief, dark vapor and heavy carbon scorching burned the neck. There will be no shards this time. The operative smugly smiled with satisfaction as he viewed his destructive work. Suddenly, the image grew blurry, moving in and out as if he was adjusting the scope.

“Adrian!”

The CSIS operative jerked noticeably from his position, turning up his emerald eyes to face the shouting instructor. Colonel Howe frowned, licked his lips, and intensely stared down at the novice agent. Adrian blinked and looked down at the dirt forest floor. Oh Frak…I’m going to get it now.

“What are you doing? I didn’t give the order to fire yet,” bellowed the instructor frustratedily, “well, might as well see how you did.”

The Confederate officer picked up a pair of ridiculously over-sized macrobinoculars that hung from his neck by a pair of straps. Raising them to his eye, the Colonel turned a knob that slowly focused the image of the target in and out. He stood there silent for several seconds. Lowering the binoculars, the Howe stared at the husky man.

“A perfect, clean hit,” softly stated the Colonel, “it’s a hard shot for even the most experienced marksmen at these ranges, much less someone without several months with their weapon. I don’t know how you did, Ravenna, but I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

He spun around to face the rest of the assembled snipers. “The rest of you, FIRE!”

Nearly a dozen muffled rifles fired, sending in more grey bolts towards their targets. The operative watched with bated anticipation. Nearly half of the shots completely missed their targets, scorching the earth and plants around the target dummies. The vast majority of those that did hit the dummies were off target. Instead of the head, an arm was blasted off. Instead of the heart, an elbow had been blasted off. In one extreme case, a sniper had barely hit the dummy, incinerating its right foot.

Only one other shot besides Ravenna’s hit its intended target: the head. But it had been a high shot, wiping out the upper half of the head and spraying ceramics all around the body like a tree shedding leaves. The instructor grunted as he viewed each target with the macrobinoculars, murmuring his approval or dissent. Finally, he lowered the optics device and stared around the assembled agents.

“Not bad, boys, it’s hard to match the luck of Ravenna here,” dryly stated the man, “the landspeeder will be here shortly to drive you off to your next course, whatever that may be. You had better pack extra power cells for your rifles when you come tomorrow, we’re are going to be doing some extended, and taxing, training…”

The open-bedded landspeeder truck rocked and jarred along the wilderness trail, occasionally kicking up clouds of dust. Each of the dozen snipers, seated in the open back on either side of the bed, huddled down, tightly clutching their rifle cases. The speeder ran over a rock, a pair of men were briefly lifted off their seats by the bump. Adrian spared a glance upward from the wooden flooring of the truck bed, to gaze upon the serene beauty of Kashan’s forest. Among the nearly endless sea of trees rose a set of rocky, gray mountains with tips of white, polar snow. Sparing a glance upward, he saw a pair of chirping birds fly over the trail. Adrian briefly smiled before getting knocked back hard into his seat by the uneven trail. Wincing in pain, Ravenna gazed up ahead on the path. He breathed in and out, blocking out all of his senses except for his sight, which the man focused on with an intense energy. The fuzzy visage of their destination became to clear up as if he was using a pair of high-powered macro-binoculars. Their destination became clear in his mind.

The path ended at a solid, gray mountain wall, which was nearly a vertical rise. At the base of that wall, there was a dark, jagged oval which a pair of men in military fatigues paced about. One of them seemingly pointed directly at Adrian. It’s a cave. We’re going to do something in a cave. But what? As he began to think, the crystal clear image shattered and dissipated into the hazy distance. A woman’s voice beckoned him back to his existence in the bumpy truck ride.

“Ravenna?”

The agent turned his head to face the slim woman. Lithe and blonde, Kitty Hawk's beauty had attracted the eye many of the group’s outfit. Though Adrian hadn’t been one of them, preferring to concentrate on his studies instead of anything resembling a social life. Hawk’s blonde ponytail sinuously bobbed up and down with the truck's suspension. In a rare moment of weakness, Adrian admited to himself that he thought she was cute. Her pale blue eyes looked up at him puzzled.

“Hm?” replied the Susevfian native nonchalantly.

“Ah,” stammered the woman, “nothing. You just seemed to be in a daze. I was wondering if you were...all right…”

“I am,” replied Ravenna assuringly, “do you have any idea what we could be doing in caves?”

Kitty sharply raised an eyebrow. She didn't take that the wrong way, did she?

“I mean,” explained Adrian sheepishly, “with our training.”

She frowned. “I have no idea. What makes you think we’re going to be in caves?”

“Nothing,” replied the operative quickly, turning his face around to view the fecund Kashan forests.

The truck continued its bumpy journey.

After several more kilometers of rough travel, the truck grounded to a slow halt, kicking up more dust in the process. Dust spun around the truck in a lazy cloud, seeming to consume everything around it; from the people on the benches to the very air itself. Several of the intelligence agents coughed or sneezed viciously before scampering off the truck, dragging their rifle cases with them.

Once out of the dust, Adrian paused for a moment to take a good, deep breath of the crisp mountain air. Exhaling, Ravenna quickly paced over to his cohorts forming up at the entrance of the cave that he had seen earlier from the truck. The group of operatives lined up in a semi-circle around a short man with dark hair. He was checking out each one as they sat down with their rifle cases, like a shopper appraising the various values of products at a shopping mall. On the man’s tunic near his left breast, Adrian noticed a square cut up into a pair of rows and columns, making four smaller squares. The top two were a deep indigo, and the bottom two were a burnished golden hue. Ravenna blinked. A special forces 2nd lieutenant assigned to training duty? He seems a little too junior to be teaching us anything…but then again…he is special forces. The 2nd Lieutenant cleared his throat with bravado.

“I am Second Lieutenant Hans Christen of Soroya…”

That explains it. He’s a Kirkanian. The Kirkanians were a group of humans that had dwelled in a network of caves for decades, some never having seen the light of day. Because of the nature of their habitat, the Kirkanians usually had better night vision than most, and were adept in fighting in their native subterranean environment.

“…and as you can probably guess by my native planet, and by the fact that we’re sitting next to a cave, I am a Kirkanian. Your instructor, Colonel Howe, specifically requested me to teach you this section of his classes. From what I understand, you have been taught some martial arts basics? Like disarms and maybe even instant knockdowns?”

The operatives murmured a series of acknowledgements. Hans seemed less than impressed, continuing to pace around the group. He stopped, and slowly nodded.

“I see,” stated the man dryly, “well then, this will be interesting. Who here has had some experience in blindfighting?”

No-one raised their hands.

Adrian winced. This soon? What was Howe thinking? We are just above the basics, and now this? Blindfighting was fighting without the use of sight. Instead of using eyes, fighters were forced to learn how to use their sense of hearing, smell, or touch in order not only to find the target, but effectively strike at it. It was a useful discipline for a profession when people might well have to fight hand-to-hand in the night without any artificial light. But because most people’s primary sense was sight, it was a difficult skill to learn, much less use effectively in an actual situation. The 2nd Lieutenant continued on unabated by the agents' astonishment.

“I see,” stated Christen, continuing to pace, “then this will make things very even for all of you. Many instructors just would have had you blindfolded for learning this discipline, but I know people. There are ways to cheat with blindfolds, and if you cheat at it, then there is a good chance you won’t learn it, and because of that, you will be dead if you ever come into a situation where you need to blindfight. That is why I am going to remove the temptation to cheat completely away. We will be learning in that cave. Yes, it is very dark and dank, but there hasn’t been anything living in it, I assure you. I’ve traveled around in it for the entire morning, and I haven’t even seen much of any water or the smallest insect. You will be safe from nature…”

Several of the agents exchanged glances as the Soroyan continued on.

“…but not from yourselves. For this exercise, I want to see how well you fight in the dark by yourselves without any blindfighting training. That means that you will be fighting each other in the caves in a free-for-all, and I will be walking around to see how you progress. Yes, agent?”

“Uh, sir, what happens if we mistake you for our target?”

“Let’s hope you don’t, agent,” replied Hans sneeringly, “because then I will likely knock you out with a single blow. And speaking of blows, I do have protective gear for you inside. Can’t have any injured pupils...yet.”

Several of the agents nodded in agreement. The Kirkanian continued to pace around the group menacingly. He stopped behind Kitty.

“Blindfighting against one man is difficult,” stated Hans, “Blindfighting against two, three, and so on is harder. But the hardest is fighting with an ally. For how will you be able to differentiate between your foe and ally? Knocking out an ally in a night fight is bad news, and it can happen in some of these situations that you will find yourselves in. That is why I am going to assign you each a partner that you will be allied with for this team free-for-all.”

Several operatives murmured.

“You, Hawk,” pointed out Christen, “you’ll be with Ravenna. Lefeber, you will be with Swenson…”

Kitty looked at her partner with an amused grin.

Ravenna grinned back sheepishly. We have to look ridiculous in this stuff. Every one of the operatives was wearing a standard issue Tuff1 combat suit, the light protection suit commonly worn by CSIS operatives undercover. The body suit had padded armor sections at the chest, elbows, and knees for absorbing physical blows and possible skidding on the ground during combat. Adrian had worn it numerous times on the internal field missions that new CSIS agents routinely were on.

The suit didn’t bother him. The other equipment did. His fists now were enclosed in gloves with padded knuckles, and likewise, his chins were now covered in some sort of padded greaves that could have been an add-on to the combat suit. But the most ludricious, and uncomfortable, addition had to be the “safety helmet.” It looked, and felt to Adrian, like a heavily padded bucket slapped over his head. There were a pair of oval slits for his eyes, a larger oval one for his mouth, and pair of minute holes for breathing. In the end, the agents looked like a cross between some ridiculously comic superheroes and the customed characters of little kid holo shows which were sweeping the galaxy.

“So,” stated Adrian dully, “does this make me look fat?”

Kitty lightly giggled and stared into his eyes. “Maybe, it’s a good thing we’re going into the caves; then people won’t be able to see our fatness.”

Ravenna nodded. “And our peculiar fashion sense.”

“That too,” replied blonde woman, glancing at the cave’s entrance, and glanced back questioningly at the dark-haired man.

“We should go,” said Adrian, as if to answer Kitty’s silent question.

The pair slowly made their way up to the cavern’s entrance. Other CSIS operatives began to gather at the cave’s entrance too. A pair of humanoid medical droids to the cave’s entrance, doubtlessly summoned by Hans. The 2nd Lieutenant glanced about the assembled agents indifferently.

“There is a high likelihood that some of you will get knocked out,” stated Christen, “in fact, I will be disappointed tremendously if one of you doesn’t get knocked out. Because of that, there are life sign monitors embedded in your suits. If you get knocked out or suffer some other injury, it will be transmitted to the medical droids. They’ll come in and get you out of there into safety and for treatment if you should need it. Any more questions? No? Good. I will lead each of your teams pair by pair into different locations within the cave. Once I get you there, do not move until you hear the bell. Then the game is afoot. Lefeber, Swenson, come with me.”

The small Kirkanian led the first two agents into cave, disappearing into the dark. Pair by pair, the agents vanished into the dark cave. Finally, Christen grabbed the hands of both partners, silently dragging them through the cave’s entrance. A shiver went up Adrian’s spine they entered, leaving the last vestige of light from the cave’s entrance behind them.

Christen abruptly turned to their right, leading them adeptly through the darkness. Ravenna closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the cave’s cold, dank air. He held his eyes shut, beginning to concentrate on his hearing. He could easily hear the bootsteps of Kitty and himself, but it took several seconds of intense focus to pick up those of the 2nd Lieutenant. Beneath his padded mask, Adrian slowly grinned. So this guy is a talented and trained in stealth too. Must be a bane to the Confederation’s enemies at night. Hans deftly lead the pair through another passage, another turn, another twist. Suddenly, his released their hands, disappearing into the darkness.

“Wait for the bell,” ordered Hans’ disembodied voice, before fading away.

Concentrating on his hearing, Ravenna could barely hear the Confederate officer walk away. He heard Kitty slightly step to over to his side. He heard the faint rustle of the air generated by Kitty’s probing, almost flailing, arms. Instinctively, Adrian reached out and grabbed one of her arms and pulled her up to him. The man whispered, barely audible.

“How do you want to go about this?”

Kitty’s voice came back slightly louder. “I don’t know. You have any ideas?”

Adrian attempted to lick his lips, only to be foiled by the ridiculous helmet.

“Two ways,” replied the dark-haired man, “we can try and work through this holding hands, or we can try and do it alone. We probably won’t hit each other if we’re doing it hand-in-hand, but I don’t think we’ll be the greatest fighters.”

“Right,” whispered Kitty, “lets move together hand-in-hand until we find somebody else, and then split up to fight them, and then go back to hand-in-hand whenever we travel. That way-”

A bell rang, its melodic note resonating off of the solid, rock walls of the cavern. Ravenna grasped Hawk’s hand tightly. She squeezed back in return. Almost silently, the two began to meander they way around the caves. Kitty used her free hand to feel around the sides of the cave walls while Adrian poured out his concentration into hearing. He felt a ripple of energy flow through his body, and into ears. Sounds pulsated loudly. The Susevfian man could hear distant footsteps, the sound of a man’s boot stumbling in the dark, and the padded fists of one of the agents striking out an unknown target. That man cursed shortly after his punch connected with a solid object. Adrian smiled. Punching walls won’t do you any good, Lefeber. He nudged Kitty to follow his lead, and the pair moved deftly through the darkness towards Lefeber and Swenson.

The open palm surged forward at breakneck speeds to connect with a man’s helmeted face. Making contact, it continued forward to knock the back of Lefeber’s head with the cave wall. It hit with a sickly thud. Lefeber groaned and threw a left hook in the darkness, which just managed to expend the man’s energy and make a whooshing noise in the air. Ravenna quickly followed up his attack by rotating on the pivot of his left foot to bring his right leg in alignment to bring down a downward aimed karate kick which smashed down into Lefeber’s left knee. Adrian’s opponent make an almost feral, growling noise as he attempted to rise. Ravenna continued to breathe deeply. It’s only a game. He can’t be that badly hurt with all that padding on, can he? Adrian sidestepped his body out of the way as Lefeber blundered forward, uttering some nearly barbaric war cry. The Susevfian man stuck out his right foot in front of Lefeber’s path, nearly tripping the other agent. Lefeber flailed about, trying to balance out his body to stop his forward momentum. But it was too late. Grasping his two hands together, as if he was holding an invisible Bludgerball bat, Adrian swung his arms together in downward hack, almost as if he were swinging a hammer. The strike hit Lefeber straight on the upper back, tumbling him forward. Lefeber hit face first on the rock floor. He let out a groan and stopped moving. Well, I can’t hear him moving. That’s done now. Now where did Kitty wander off too?

Kitty had attempted to engage Swenson, a man of smaller stature than even Kitty. But what Swenson lacked in size, he had made up for in spirit and ferocity. When had heard them start their first fight within the caves, Adrian heard more swooshing of fists running through empty air than he had heard of fists hitting anything solid. The Susevfian man turned about to face Kitty’s last known location. He started to walk forward and stopped nearly instantly. What was that? He pivoted as quietly as possible to face the source of the muted footsteps. The footsteps stopped abruptly. Adrian slowly crouched downward. Echoing throughout the chamber, he could hear signs of the struggle between Swenson and Kitty, both of them occasionally groaning as hits connected. But the footsteps did not continue.

Adrian squinted his eyes and got on all fours. He quietly crawled forward, focusing on the sense of hearing that got him through the last fight. That’s breathing. Very slow, controlled breathing. Someone knows that I’m around. Adrian continued forward. In his mind, he thought he could make out the silhouette of a man in front of him. Adrian lunged forward, only to receive a quick kick in the face. He stumbled and briefly collapsed to the ground. The silhouette leaned over him slowly.

“That’s pretty impressive, Ravenna,” stated Christen, “most people, even some highly trained people, wouldn’t have been able to know of my presence there. Tell me, where did you grow up?”

“Susevfi, sir.”

“Did you spend any time in the darkness there? Any caves or eternal nightfall?”

“Negative sir.”

“Interesting. I should let you get back to your game. It appears that Kitty might need you,” stated the silhouette, walking away.

Kitty. Adrian grunted, pulling himself off from the ground. He concentrated on his enhanced sense of hearing. The echoes of their struggle reverberated off the cave walls from all different directions, making it impossible to determine their origin. Adrian swore under his breath. Great. Where is Kitty? Closing his eyes, he envisioned her in his mind; the lithe body, the golden hair, the blue eyes. The imaginary woman smiled at him with amusement. He smiled back. And then he felt it. A faint trace of her presence. He quickly tracked it down, scrambling about and making no attempt to be quiet. He arrived at nothing. Adrian frowned. But I felt it? How could that be wrong? All of these new senses have been right so far…

THUMP!

The sound of a body hitting the side of cave wall. An anguished cry arose directly behind the Susevfian man. Kitty. The operative turned around and rushed forward heedlessly. He heard the skidding of the woman’s shoes on the floor in circle, and then a cry of pain from Swenson and another thud. He clattered to a stop as he neared the two opponents.

Kitty was slumped up against a wall, breathing hard, but otherwise seemingly unhurt. Swenson was now on the ground and rising. Kitty must have kicked out his legs from underneath him. Smooth move. Swenson staggered up, stabled himself, and prepared to make another forward attack to finish Hawk off. No! Fear for Kitty turned to pure anger pulsing through his veins. His face wreathed with contortions of fury. With his adrenaline pumped, Adrian charged forward, his boot heels thumping loudly on the rock floor. Startled by the onrush of sound, Swenson turned around. Too late.

Ravenna accelerated forward straight into Swenson in a nearly blindside tackle. The two Confederate agents hit the floor together with Swenson taking the brunt of the fall; awkwardly skidding on the floor with his torso. Swenson groaned in pain. Adrian lifted his torso and threw a quick punch at Swenson’s face. It completely missed. Swenson in turn pushed the palm of his right hand towards so that his finger tips were barely forcing the enraged Adrian’s head from coming any closer. The Susevfian man brought his left arm back and swung it towards Swenson’s right arm like a sword blade. It was a clumsly, poorly executed strike, but it knocked Swenson’s right arm off alignment. Unimpeded by Swenson’s arm, Adrian clambered forward the man and brought his right elbow down hard on the other agent’s face in a downward strike. It connected, and Swenson’s head bounced off the rocky floor in a decidedly sickly fashion. Ravenna curled up his left hand and pulled back that arm to throw a punch into Swenson’s face.

“Stop!” shouted Kitty, startling Ravenna, “he’s down.”

Ravenna let his left arm slowly untighten and drop down to his side. The anger that had consumed him slowly melted away at her voice, to be replaced by a sense of shame. Looking down at his opponent, the Susevfian man rolled off of Swenson and looked upwards. Kitty was standing over them. Though he couldn’t see her face, Adrian felt a sense of bewilderment and concern emanating from the woman. She stretched out her hand in the darkness, which Ravenna quickly grasped. Kitty quickly pulled him up from the ground to a standing position.

“Well, that was pretty vicious,” muttered the blonde woman, “where did you learn to fight like that? That’s not all stuff they taught at the academy, at least not tackling maneuver.”

“Bludgerball,” stated Adrian dryly, “you learn how to tackle people from all manner of positions. It’s the only way to protect a good back from being slaughtered by the opposition.”

“I see.”

It was clear she didn’t.

“Anyone else about?” questioned Adrian.

Kitty started to shake her head in a nonverbal reply before remembering that Adrian probably couldn’t see it. “Not that I know of. How you managed to lead us to these guys is a mystery to me. Where’s Lefeber?”

“Out. He took a pretty hard hit to the ground,” stated Ravenna, clutching his right side; it hadn’t quite landed correctly when he had taken down Swenson.

“I can imagine,” stated Kitty, beginning to rub her hand against Adrian’s injured side.

Ravenna’s hand agitatedly swept it away. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve heard too many guys say that,” stated Hawk, “we really-”

“What about you?” interrupted Adrian concernedly, “you didn’t look to good against that wall…”

“You saw me?” exclaimed the woman.

“Well, not really, I guess,” lied the Susevfian man, “more like felt you weren’t doing too good.”

“I’ll be all right. Nothing worse than I survived at Basic.”

“Same here,” replied Adrian, “same here.”

“Want to get into more brawls?” questioned the woman.

“What do you think?” snorted the man quietly.

The pair stumbled through the dank caverns together, hand-in-hand. More out of habit than any practical use, Kitty devoted herself to looking for any potential threats. He turned to get a glance of the lithe woman. If she is going to see anything, it’s gotta be at point-blank range. The husky man shook his head at the thought and continued onward. Adrian filed the thought into the back of his head, pushing it away into the regresses of his mind with concentrated mental strength. He reached with his newfound talent, attempting to hear and see anything around him. He felt the cool, dank cave air brush up against him, bringing him a strong whiff of a sickly, natural smell to his nose with a touch of human perspiration. Slowly, the Susevfian man turned his head towards the rushing wind. He closed his eyes, channeling the energy to his ears. Faintly, Ravenna’s ears could make out the clash of a melee fight; the sounds of the padded gloves pounding against the suit, the occasional groan, and the scampering of feet. He tugged Kitty towards the sounds.

“This way,” said Ravenna.

A sense of puzzlement emanated from the blonde woman. Typical. You’d think she’d had learned from the last case that I know where I’m going. He ignored her hesitation, guiding her through dark passages. Up ahead, a feminine voice shouted in pain. Marsielles. She was with....Was she with Thompson? Well, we’ll found out soon enough. The two quietly crept closer. The sounds became louder, enough so that Adrian could make out Thompson’s habitual grunt whenever he threw a punch and groan of Fred. Ravenna focused on ears, channeling his concentration and thoughts to the vibrations as they bounced off the walls. Only two sets of feet moving. Marsielles and Pablo must be down already then. One the opponents threw a punch, and both men groaned. And they seem to have gotten pretty weak. He turned over to Kitty, pulling the woman close to his side to lean in and whisper.

“They don’t seem to be doing so well right now.”

“Should we put them out of their misery?” asked Hawk quietly.

Adrian closed his eyes. He reached out in his mind, trying to stretch out his senses to feel the fighters’ presence. As he did so, he could almost feel their fists soar through the air in punches, the sweat dripping down their faces, and their heavy breathing. Faintly, he could feel the faint presence of two other persons, but instead of the high energy and excitement generated by the fighters, Ravenna felt no emotions and barely any energy. He shook his head ruefully. Marsilles and Pablo. They must be out stone cold. Kitty stared at him, expecting some sort of answer. Adrian blushed.

“They are pretty weak,” admitted Ravenna, “it wouldn’t be too difficult to knock them out, I think. Let’s do it.”

“How?”

“Uh…we’ll creep up and sweep their legs out from underneath them,” replied Adrian tentatively, “and then we’ll improvise after that.”

“Okay,” whispered the woman.

Hand-in-hand, the two agents crept forward, hunched down. During the heaviest activity of the men, Adrian and Kitty surged forward, using the noise to conceal their movement. That way, the agents could approach quickly with the least amount of detection. It was taught as one of the basic skills in the academy. They let go of each other’s hands, separating to engage their individual targets.

He began breathing deeply again. The Susevfian man let his mind flow with the internal energy pulsing through his veins. Calmly, he slid up behind Thompson and paused. Adrian reached out, trying to feel Kitty’s presence. She’s behind him…now. Fred let out an exclamation of shock as his legs gave way under him. Ravenna silently swore. Too soon, Kitty, I’m not even ready to make my sweep. But he was already in action. Adrian raked his elbow up in an upward slash that smashed into the back of Thompson’s head. The other man howled in pain. Didn’t hit him in the right spot. Missed the nerves. Adrian deftly grabbed Thompson’s helmeted head with his left hand, pulling him backwards. Thompson flailed wildly. Quickly, Adrian snapped kicked one of his target’s knees out from under him. Between his upper half being pulled backwards and his lower legs being kicked forward, Thompson collapsed onto the ground with a resounding thud. Adrian raised his right foot to stomp on the downed agent.

“Wait!” shouted Thompson pleadingly, “I give up!”

Adrian nodded. He’s got to be in pretty bad shape. No reason not to believe him. Especially in an exercise. Ravenna turned around to face Kitty’s general direction. He hesitated.

“Kitty?”

“Yeah, I’m all right,” she replied, “can’t say the same about Fred. I think he hit his head the wrong way when he landed. I’ve just commed one of the medical bots a priority signal to pick him up.”

Is there a right way to hit your head while getting knocked to the floor?

“All right,” noted Adrian, “he can’t be too much worse than the guys we left behind, can he?”

“He’s bad enough,” replied a fourth voice, “looks like he’s bleeding somewhere. Maybe even from one of Thompson’s attacks…”

Adrian’s eyes squinted. Christen. When did he arrive?

“If you say so, sir,” replied Ravenna monotonously.

“I do say so,” retorted the Lieutenant flatly, “I dare say your team has to be the most vicious and effective team during the tournament. It’s ending now, and most people have just a couple of scrapes and bruises or a sprain from all of their fighting. Instead, when I find you guys, there are limp bodies on the floors, unconscious. It appears Mr. Ravenna, that you have given out a couple of concussions. I’m not sure if I should beat you senseless for your overzealousness or praise you for your efficiency.”

“Couldn’t they just cancel each other out?” ventured Kitty quietly.

Thompson’s weak voice stammered an objection. “You almost knocked me out too. Such aggressiveness has to be checked in exercises…”

“Mr. Thompson,” rebuked Hans, “are you going to tell me you weren’t aggressive with Marsielles or Fred here? I saw you fighting both of them just as vigorously as Mr. Ravenna here. The only difference is that Ravenna seems to have been more effective than yourself.”

“And,” stated Hawk adamantly, “and he didn’t hit you again when you gave up.”

“Noted,” said Christen, “and that does count for something. Come now. It took my ancestors years to get use to these conditions, and I doubt the lot of you are in any comfort in them…”

The next day…

Barracks, Camp Shipwright, Kashan

Golden rays from the sun pierced through the gray clouds onto Camp Shipwright, named in honor of the Vice-Commodore of the Gestalt Colonies. Six months ago, this frontier land had been pure wilderness covered in the coniferous forests and golden plains that covered Kashan. Then the intelligence and special forces groups had come together, claimed this governmental land, and had made their training camp. Instead of the natural foliage, there were now identical, pre-fabricated buildings. One had been made into an office, another into armory, and another into a kitchen. But most of them were barracks, each one containing up to four squads of men, their equipment, and their hygiene facilities. As was the camp’s custom during these early hours, the bugle sounded at the first sign of light, rousing the service people from their bunks to line up for inspection.

“Atten-hut!”

The two dozen men, women, and aliens of CSIS Training Group #11 snapped to attention in their hastily put on fatigues. A quick gust of wind rippled through air, rustling the black strands of Adrian’s hair. Ravenna opened his mouth and let out a yawn. Kitty, standing next to him in the formation, lightly punched him in the rib. What was that for? Oh… He stopped yawning immediately as a trio of officers walked by their row. The officers looked the Confederation personnel up and down as they went. Finally, they arrived by Kitty, and stopped when they saw him.

“Ah, good morning Mr. Ravenna,” greeted Colonel Howe, the camp’s commander, “you seem to be putting on quite a show these days…”

Adrian blinked. How the hell do you respond to that? Thank you sir? That doesn’t a little boastful at all. Or do I downplay it? He hesitated, caught between two known responses with unknown results. In the end, he did neither. Ravenna merely nodded silently.

“…The 2nd Lieutenant and I have a bet about your performance in today’s special event, in fact,” smiled the Colonel, “I’m sure, at the very least, your effort will considerable.”

“Yes sir.”

The Colonel nodded. “Carry on.”

Christen looked at Adrian briefly for a second, nodded, and moved to trail in the Colonel’s wake. As soon as the officers were out of earshot, wrapping up their inspection, the Susevfian man let out an exasperated sigh of relief. Kitty faintly smiled.

“Well,” queried Adrian, turning to the blonde woman, “what is today’s special event?”

Hawk blinked in surprise. “You didn’t know?”

“Well…I don’t remember.”

She shook her head. “I guess that means you didn’t get to prepare any of your special tricks yet. It’s an obstacle course.”

“Yet. Involving?”

“No-one knows exactly for sure,” replied the woman in a conspiratorial voice, “but were pretty sure there are going to be monkey bars, hurdles, the basics. But from what I’ve heard around, each new training group gets a new, unique addition to it. Something to keep us off-balance.”

The dark haired man shook his head from side to side. “Wonderful. I have pressure from the officers to put up a top performance, there’s some bet out, and I have no idea what the bet is or who is making what wager.”

“So?”

Adrian looked flustered at the woman. “You don’t think this will affect my personal standing with one of them if they lose the bet?”

“No,” adamantly replied the woman, “I do not. They’re professionals, and moreover, they’re suppose to make you the best you can be.”

“I suppose,” muttered Ravenna, “I’m screwed.”

She smacked him playfully on the arm. “Stop your whining, you’ll be fine.”

“If you say so...”

It had been said by outsiders that anyone who graduated from the Special Forces Department of the Kashan Defence Academy came out a different person. A person identical to any other graduate. They walked the same, they talked the same, they moved with fluid efficiently. It was true…to an extent. Anyone glancing at the row of lined Confederates could have wondered if they were actually Clone Troopers; raised and trained together. But the graduates could see the differences readily among themselves. There were minute differences in body language derived not only from their home planet, but their specialist training. Just as these accents were manifested in the physical body, so were they manifested vocally; with slight traces of accents and vocabulary unique to their professions and planets. In that manner, Ravenna could figure out, with some work, who was around him. He stared at the man in front of him as he waited in line for the obstacle course.

Let’s see. Heavily worked, broad back muscles. Must have some sort of intensive swimming training, before or after his academy days. Posture with a slightly hunched over back suggests he is use to carrying heavy weapons. The man stepped forward, and at the casual nod of the instructor, and ran through a small passage that was the start of the course. As was his habit, the Susevfian man began to breathe in deeply. A howl of unexpected pain echoed out of the passage way. Several minutes passed before the instructor nodded for Adrian to go.

He ran, sprinting aggressively through the dark passage way. As the light gave way to darkness, he focused a small reserve of energy to his eyes. In his eyes, the darkness faded some; enough to see what was in the passage. Straight, straight, turn! Noting the abrupt turn in front of him, Ravenna began to minimize his gait, and consequently, lower his speed. Within a meter of the wall in front of him, he pushed off with this right foot, focusing his concentration on the maneuver. It seemed to Adrian to take forever to complete that simple maneuver. Continuing his run down the passageway, he smiled. So that’s where that howl came from. I wonder how many people hit that wall? Adrian could see the light up ahead now. He urged himself forward, his legs once again increasing his gait to increase the speed. What is that?

He burst out into the light, and almost fell twenty meters to the surface of water below. A big man’s momentum was a difficult thing to slow down, much less stop. There was a pair of handlebars in front of and above him. Instinctively, he grabbed it. He breathed a sigh of relief. Close call. Suddenly, he found himself soaring forward and down, across the water. He silently swore. A rope glider. The handlebars suddenly jerked to a stop. Adrian looked up. That’s a big knot up there. We’re not going anywhere soon. Ravenna looked down. Oh. Great. The landing platform was not below him. Instead, it was fifty meters directly ahead of the line. What was below him were a series of small, floating platforms. Moving from one to the other wouldn’t have been hard, save that each one slowly rotated in a circle. Who wants to bet that the second I get on there, they become unbalanced, and I fall off. He shook his head and began to swing his legs back and forth like a pendulum. Adrian closed his eyes, focusing his energy on widening the arc of his swing. He looped back, and at the zenith of his forward momentum, he released himself. The motion propelled him forward through the air, with the gravity steadily pulling him downwards. His body hit one of the padded platforms with a dull thud. Laying with his tummy flat on the platform, the man quickly crawled over to the next one, and so on, moving as quickly as possible. If I stood and tried to jump each one, I’d have a higher center of gravity, which would be unstable; I’d fall. But low to the ground, and with more area to press my weight on, I have a lower center of gravity and produce less pressure on the platforms. Gingerly, he clambered over from the last platform and onto the ground. Scrambling up to his feet, Adrian looked at the next obstacle and shuddered.

It had once been a large tree before some storm or man had knocked it down over the chasm. Now, its bark and branches stripped, the tree served as a crude bridge. That in itself isn’t too bad, except for those. Adrian spared at a glance at the padded cylinders which swept over the tree in regular intervals like pendulums. He walked forward, attempting to figure out their periods. Looks like…the first one is 20 seconds; slow. Seconds is…15? Let’s go with 15 on that one. Ravenna jumped up onto the massive log and steadied himself precariously with his arms. He tiptoed forward to the first cylinder. It swooshed by him, and he quickly moved past it. He looked up. Oh, frak…The second cylinder swooshed down on him. Ravenna held out his hand as if ordering it to stop. He tightly closed his eyes, feeling the oncoming mass coming towards him. He harnessed the energy in his mind, attempting to hold the cylinder back with the will of his mind. It didn’t hit him. Cautiously, he opened his mind to see the cylinder caught in the position when he had first help open his hand. Ravenna chuckled and casually walked past it. Lowering his hand, the cylinder continued on its powerful arc unimpeded. Adrian confidently walked forward, at each cylinder waving a hand to knock it back upwards as he walked by. He reached the end of the log and jumped off to stumble on the ground.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Howe’s voice.

Adrian looked up to a see a pair of officers: Howe and Christen. Howe’s hands were on his hips, his eyes staring at the operative with furrowed eyebrows. Next to him stood Christen. The Kirkanian wore an amused grin and ruefully shook his head. The 2nd Lieutenant turned to the Colonel.

“It would appear that I won the bet,” stated Hans nonchalantly.

“So it would,” replied the Colonel slowly.

“What was the bet?” questioned the Susevfian.

“I bet the Colonel here,” smiled Christen, “that you would either have the fastest time on the course or that you would display some unusual talent during it. I believe stopping swinging logs midair with some invisible force counts as an unusual talent, Mr. Ravenna.”

“But how did you know?” questioned the Colonel, “about Ravenna’s talent?”

“I didn’t,” replied Christen, “not about that talent at least. I wondered if there wasn’t something special about him though, during his exercise in the caves. He seemed a little too efficient and precise at times for his lack of experience or sight. That combined of what I heard about the sniping exercise.”

“I thought it was a fluke,” replied Howe, leading the trio over to the side of the course.

“So did I,” agreed Adrian, “but all of this stuff just came together this last few days.”

“You’re not a Jedi?” queried Christen.

It was a simple question, but it hit him with the full force of a charging Bantha. A Jedi. A force-user. So that’s why this is all happening. He stumbled back a bit. Both officers looked at him questioning.

“I wasn’t aware that I was one,” replied Adrian, “but it explains my newfound talents.”

“No,” replied Howe cautiously, “you’re not a Jedi yet. I fought alongside them in the Clone Wars as part of a militia before moving to Kashan. I was sixteen then, but I will never forget how they moved with such fluid, masterful power. You have the ability to become one, but your talents need to be trained.”

“And,” added on Christen, “that leads to an entirely new problem.”

Ravenna raised an eyebrow, causing Hans to explain himself more.

“Who is going to train you? The Jedi Order has disbanded, with lone masters roaming the galaxy secluded. There’s the Jedi Corps, the Empire’s lackeys, but I don’t think they would help you, at least if you’re dedicated to the Light. And there’s the Sith Order, a dark and murderous group.”

Adrian nodded. “No-one that would share my values, at least.”

“This is troubling,” stated Howe, “but there may yet be a path open to you.”

“What would that be?” questioned the Susevfian man curiously.

“Almas, one of our member states, holds an old Jedi Academy. There’s no active Jedi there, but they did leave a fair amount of their stuff behind. Training chips, some lightsaber components, workshops, anything a Jedi Academy had to have. It was just abandoned after the Clone Wars. You see, the Jedi there fled into hiding immediately once they heard Order 66 had been issued; the command for Clone Troopers to kill the Jedi in their ranks. With the Jedi gone, Palpatine didn’t touch it, and neither did the people of Almas. When they joined the Confederation, we started piling in anything related to the Force there; it’s not like there’s not enough space since all of the living quarters have been vacated. Now there’s just a bunch of Paladins and local police that keep guard on that stuff. I could probably get you access to all of that, assuming that you would continue to serve in the Confederation.”

“I will,” affirmed Adrian.

“Good,” replied How, “because I have a mission for you. I had it formed before we were aware of your talents, but this will make you even more suited to the job.”

“What is it?”

“It’s all in the briefing package waiting at your bunk, your mission and the background you’ll need for it. I’m sorry we have to cut your stay at the camp, but CSIS needs more personnel then ever, and we can’t afford to give advanced training any more to agents with already basic training; especially those who are staying within the Confederation borders. Instead, we’ve been ordered to begin basic training for more agents until they have new camps built to handle the demand.”

“I understand.”

“Ah, for your mission, you will need team members,” remembered Howe, “you will get to pick three of them from those here at Camp.”

“Pick them?”

“You’re the mission commander, and moreover, you’re being promoted to Special Agent to befit your role as commander of the mission. I know, a double promotion is a rare thing, but a necessary one these days. Do you have any choices offhand?”

“I would like to take Operative Kitty Hawk with me, as well as Swenson and Thompson with me.”

Hans broke into a grin. “You’re cave buddies? They all seemed pretty decent for beginners…”

“Very well then,” stated Howe solemnly, “You had best get your bags packed, Ravenna.”

“Yes sir.”

INTERLUDE: Shadow Strike

(Runs Concurrent with Shadow Strike)

Lucerne Mansion, Kashan

The Lucerne Mansion’s gardens were as large as a T’Chuk field, its verdant fauna hedged in by brick walls. Among the extensively cultivated flowers and trees ran a grey, stonework path. A path often walked along by Matthew and Corinne Lucerne, Corise’s parents. The Rear-Admiral himself rarely walked this paths; except in the company of guests, preferring to spend most of his time within the family’s extensive library. But today, the officer strode the paths with a woman in white and a man in the uniform of a Confederate Special Forces Colonel. The trio walked along the path, enjoying the sights and fragrant scents of the vast garden.

“You sent him on an abduction mission?” questioned the younger Lucerne precisely, staring at a ch'hala tree recently imported from Cularin.

“Tell me, Director Howe,” questioned Pro-Consul Thorne, walking besides the two men, “Why did you not inform us before you sent him on the mission?”

Director Howe of the CSIS, better known as Colonel Howe of Camp Shipwright, turned to face the couple.

“We were under your orders to send the best CSIS team we had presently available to Dalos IV. Most of our veteran units are on the field in long-term assignments, integrating themselves into the local cultures of not only our own planets, but those neutral planets around us as well. We have a personnel shortage, as you know doubt. His team was the best we had available that I could be sure of.”

Christina scoffed. “Personnel shortages? There have to be at least fifty people you could have replace Mr. Ravenna with. He is far more important with those new abilities. The Empire has its Jedi Corps, the Coalition its White Knights. With him, we could start something similar. He has far more inherent political and even military potential than that which could be attained by simply being regulated to being on a CSIS team. The Confederation will need him to take on a new role.”

“I understand,” replied Howe assuringly, “that is why I informed you.”

“No,” stated Lucerne, shaking his head.

Christina stared at him and frowned. “What do you mean no?”

The trio stopped pacing in the ancestral gardens. Lucerne faintly smiled back at the woman and thoughtfully shook his head.

“Frankly,” replied the Rear-Admiral, “we do not absolutely need him to become this leader of a new military order. We have survived without it for long enough. I dare say it could become a useful thing, but it is not an absolute need. We need to remember something: Mr. Ravenna is a naturalized Confederation citizen. He has all of the same rights and privileges as any other Confederation citizen. We cannot make him do this. It must be his choice.”

Thorne licked her lips. “We can offer him incentives-”

“No, manipulating him to meet our own ends is not the point,” interrupted Lucerne, “it must his own choice without any interference for or against it. This is like raising a young adult. You cannot tell him what to do with every situation he comes up. All you can do is educate him the best you can to make those decisions. Now, we can certainly present him with your idea, Madam Pro-Consul, but we should leave the path open for him to continue on with CSIS if so wishes. I am sure Director Howe can see the value of an agent like Mr. Ravenna.”

“Indeed,” replied the intelligence chief, “I told him that I would attempt to get him access to the Almas Academy.”

Lucerne uncharacteristically blinked.

“What kind of school is it?” questioned the Pro-Consul, “besides one that’s on Almas.”

Corise hesitated. “It’s an abandoned Jedi Academy on Almas, directly built above the caverns that house Forard. Almas didn’t have any Clone Troopers on it during the Clone Wars. So when Order 66 was issued, all of the Jedi there were temporary safe, but fled in a hurry in order to not get caught. Most of them were Padawans, some were Knights, and a very few were Masters who refused to fight in the war. Nearly everything there was left in place, untouched for centuries. In any case, it has been abandoned for some time. We’ve been using it as a storehouse for anything Force-related that we could find. For example, those few crates of refined Cortosis that we found in the Techno Union’s old Cortosis Battle Droid Factory on Metalorn are now stored there. We’ve kept its new activities secret, and there is a host of Paladin IIs inside the buildings that are under orders to kill any unauthorized intruder.”

“I was under the impression that almost of the Academy’s old training holos and what not are still there,” replied Howe slowly, “they would undoubtedly be useful for training him further in the ways of the Force, regardless if he becomes this Confederate Knight idea you are proposing, Madam Pro-Consul, or continues his work within CSIS.”

“I will give him my permission,” announced the woman resolutely, “if that amounts for anything.”

“And he has mine as well,” added Lucerne, “it will be authorized shortly then. Tell me, Director, assuming he returns safely from his mission, what will his next orders be?”

“Assuming that the Madam Pro-Consul here doesn’t snatch him up here from my grasp,” smiled the intelligence chief, “I will assign him to the Academy to hone his latent Force abilities more. They’re rather rough and unreliable right now.”

“I see,” stated the Kashan officer.

“In that case,” noted Thorne, “if he wants to accept my offer, he will have to study there some more.”

Lucerne hesitated. “Tell me something, Howe, does Ravenna currently have his own transportation?”

Howe grimaced. “I assigned his team an old freighter for the mission if that’s what you mean. A YT-1400, to be exact.”

Lucerne shook his head. “We’ll need to assign him something better and more permanent, I think, for his studies.”

Howe shook his head. “There aren’t any craft to spare in the CSIS pool.”

“I understand,” replied Lucerne, “I will buy him a suitable ship then.”

Howe rocked back on his heels. “That’s very generous, but he doesn’t know how to fly.”

“Well,” questioned Lucerne, “how did his freighter get to Dalos IV?”

“One of his teammates flew it.”

“Assign that person as his pilot then,” ordered Corise.

“Might as well assign his whole team to him then.”

“Do it. Anything to help him reach his destiny. Anything within our power,” answered Lucerne slowly, staring at the setting sun.

(Post - Shadow Strike)

Audacia

The Windsaber jerked into realspace, habitually tossing around its crew in the process. Kitty muttered a few choice words and hammered the control panel with a gloved fist. It shuddered under her impact. Directly behind her, and nearly tied to his seat, Swenson steadily typed on his datapad, working on some sort of code for a hacking program he was writing. Thompson, the team’s assault expert, was in the YT-1400’s cargo hold, cleaning the heavy weapons which he had effectively used to subdue many of Myax’s fighters with. Adrian, the team leader, sat alongside Kitty in the rusting freighter’s cockpit, staring and half-attempting to mediate on the wondrous vista of stars in order to improve his concentration. Their comm. crackled with an authoritative voice.

“Attention Freighter Windsaber, this is Audacia Traffic Control. Your freighter has been deemed a potential hazard to nearby ships. Power down immediately and standby for boarding.”

Kitty threw up in her hands. “Complying Con-”

“Control,” interrupted Adrian forcefully, “we are a Confederation military vessel. We will land immediately at our designated base for repair. Access Code 5030769799.”

“That’s a valid code,” replied the controller in surprise, “Very well, Windsaber. You are cleared to land…under escort.”

As if to reiterate his point, the freighter’s sensors countermeasures package, installed by the CSIS, began to incessantly beep. Adrian frowned. We’re being intensely scanned at short range. He glanced at the monitor. And it doesn’t show who? That’s new, unless…Unless we’re being trailed by stealth fighters. They don’t show up too well on any sensors or sensor returns. He grumbled, hitting an off switch on the console. The blaring immediately died down, with faint echoes reverberating throughout the freighter.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Thompson, stepping into the cockpit.

Adrian turned back in his seat to face the big man. “Just an exchanged with Traffic Control and a routine scan by their fighters. Nothing to worry about.”

Thompson toothily smiled. “Nothing to worry about? I’d be worried if I were them too. This baby can’t hold up for much longer. Chances they’re going to retire it?”

“Slim,” answered Hawk, still at the ship’s controls, “because there aren’t a lot of vessels that we cannot only confiscate, but also don’t have criminal records on other databases. I was talking to the CSIS starship pool director, and they’re thinking about starting to buy freighters now and making pre-fabricated histories for them. It bodes ill.”

“What’s wrong with that?” questioned Thompson.

Swenson shook his head. “That’s not as good. It’s the difference between having a lie and having a truth. The Windsaber probably has a checkered history. If we were to go to starports around the galaxy, they would have records on her from BoSS. But pre-fabricated histories don’t work so good. Because they’re a fake, they don’t have those histories listed on all of those star port records. People can hack them in to as many star ports as they can and insert the information; I imagine that’s what they’re trying to do, but that’s a pretty big risk. Unless they’re only using those vessels in the Confederation, that is. That would work”

The Windsaber and its escort fighters smoothly entered the agricultural world’s atmosphere on its dayside; Audacia’s burnished sun brightly illuminating the decrepit craft. They entered the planet’s gravity well, and Kitty killed the ion engines and engaged the repulsorlifts. Windsaber swiftly soared through the sky, breaking through the various cloud levels of the planet. Audacia’s landmass gradually came into view; lush forest valleys, seemingly endless, golden fields of grains, and a few sets of majestic mountains, which clawed at the sky. Several minutes passed, and Kitty lowered the craft’s altitude so that it was just skimming over the mountain tops. The Deathsabers which had trailed the craft up until now broke off and jetted up back to the void of space. Windsaber flew over a snowy peak of Mount Athinal and abruptly halted midflight. Kitty cranked several dials on the cockpit’s side, and the ship began to gently drift toward the ground below like a feather. The ship passed through several layers of low level clouds before finally touching the surface with a bump which lightly reverberated throughout the entire ship.

Kitty unstrapped herself from the flight restraints. Thompson and Swenson, in the meantime, tried to untangle the knotty mess which had strapped the tech specialist into his chair for the flight back to Audacia. Ravenna rose and smiled at the sight.

“Strapped in okay, Swenson?” questioned the Special Agent.

The man nodded affirmatively. “I believe so. At least I didn’t feel the jerk back into realspace.”

Thompson quietly uttered a string of curses. “Couldn’t you use one type of standardized knot or system, Swenson? This is worse than trying to untangle a Gungan’s fishing line.”

Kitty snorted and pulled out her utility knife. She gently brushed Thompson off of Swenson and painstakingly cut the ropes and straps which bonded the tech specialist to his seat. The restraints peeled away and slumped to rest on the seat and floor. Swenson rose. Adrian shook his head.

“If you ever travel with me again, Swenson,” stated the Susevfian man, “try not to tangle yourself up like that again.”

The tech specialist muttered some incomprehensible reply.

Thompson pointed out towards the frosty, cockpit viewports. “Looks like we got company.”

Adrian turned his head to look out. Sure enough, the hazy silhouettes of a trio of figures advanced across the windswept crag. Ravenna shook his and opened his senses with the Force. He focused his mind on the approaching figures. The blurs resolved into consolidated details and bundled figures. Adrian could feel the steady confidence rising up in the lead man, taste the attentiveness of the two guards accompanying him. The lead man’s presence seems familiar. I felt it at Camp Shipwright when - Colonel Howe. What’s he doing so far away from there? He shook the thought away.


Adrian turned to the rest of the group. “It’s Colonel Howe and company.”

“How do you know that?” questioned Kitty, powering down the ship.

He smiled. “Call it a good hunch.”

Kitty skeptically nodded. “Okay.”

Several meters away from the Special Agent, Thompson punched a button, and the freighter’s hydraulic pistons began to steadily lower the freight ramp to the rocky ground below. The ramp’s end hit the surface with a loud clang, and the group descended. A chilling mountain breeze scented with Audacia’s forests met them, whipping around their cloaks in a haphazard fashion. Adrian led his crew down the ramp, stretching out his gloved hand to Howe.

“It’s good to see you, Colonel,” smiled Adrian, shouting over the harsh wind, “what brings you so far away from Camp Shipwright?”

The Colonel hesitated, and grasped the Susevfian’s hand. “Well, you did, actually. Come let’s get out of the cold so we can talk. I’m getting old, and heck, even the Windsaber will moved shortly to someplace warmer.”

Adrian and Kitty exchanged glances. I don’t know what this is all about. Hawk blinked and opened her mouth. Her lip quivered, and she promptly shut it, staring suspiciously at the Susevfian. Adrian turned back to the Colonel as they paced over to the concealed doors.

“I have orders from Lucerne himself to come talk to you about your new…talent.”

“Rear-Admiral Lucerne?” questioned Adrian.

“The same. He sends his regards,” replied Howe loudly, “when I mentioned your gift in requesting access for you to the Almas Academy, it drew a lot of attention in the upper circles. Even Pro-Consul Thorne spared some time to talk with me about it.”

Adrian opened his mouth, and quickly shut it. Around him, Swenson and Thompson glanced curiously at him. Hawk stared at him with more intensity, her blonde eyebrows beginning to furrow. The group approached a sheer rock side of the mountain. Howe tapped a button on his comlink, the air wavered in front of them, and a cavernous maw appeared with a set of blast doors, which began to slide open. The Mount Athinal base was one of the most sophisticated field bases that the Confederation Security and Intelligence Service possessed, and it showed. When the people walked the doors into the warm comfort of the caverns, the doors promptly shut behind him. The mountain breeze faded, and the internal warmth of the base and the smell of cleaning and industrial fluids wafted through the air. The Colonel turned to Kitty.

“Agent Hawk, you are being assigned as Ravenna’s personal pilot,” stated Howe, “the Rear-Admiral’s orders. Swenson, Thompson, you have the option to remain with Ravenna as he undergoes some special training. Of course, your training is a little rough, and undoubtedly it could use some polishing. Otherwise, we will be sending you back into the field. Your choices, gentlemen.”

“I’ll stay with Adrian,” stated Swenson, looking at Ravenna.

“Well,” replied Thompson slowly, “it’s not that I haven’t liked working with you Adrian, but I feel that the field is the best place for me.”

Adrian raised his hands with his palms open upwards. “It’s your decision Thompson. It has been a pleasure to work with you.”

“Very good,” replied Howe, “Mr. Thompson, if you could please leave us. The rest of this concerns Mr. Ravenna and his associates.”

“Yes sir,” bowed the big man.

Thompson slowly walked away into the bowels of the base, sparing glances at his former group members as he went. Howe, in the meantime, led the group through several bustling hallways and stairwells, all while keeping his lips firmly shut. Finally, they reached a large, hangar blast door. Howe tapped a button on his comlink, and the doors noisily slid open. Colonel Howe quickly stepped through the still-sliding doors.

It was a large, duracrete room shaped in a rectangular prism with a high, vaulted ceiling. Strips of dark Ferrocarbon ran across the plain gray walls, heavily reinforcing the structure. On the side opposite of which they entered, there was a large pair of blastdoors, easily capable of accommodating a landing Lambda-class shuttle. In the middle of the room stood a single starship, roughly the size of the YT-1300 made famous by Captain Solo. But unlike the Corellian craft with its straight lines, saucer shape, and off center cockpit, this ship was fluid, and organic looking. The ship was nearly ovoid at the bow, narrowed out at its waist, and flared in the aft with a set of powerful looking engines. Across its glossy black skin, blisters grew up in elongated clusters. In the waist of the ship and on the top, a conventional turret sprouted up sporting a pair of laser cannons. The Colonel tapped his comlink again, and the doors slid shut behind them. Howe turned and beamed at the group.

“This is your new ship, Adrian,” reported the officer, “and I don’t mean for a mission, I mean for life, if you wish it. It is a gift from Rear-Admiral Lucerne.”

Adrian’s mouth dropped. “But…but why?”

“He believes you need a ship for your new studies at the Academy, and CSIS doesn’t really have one to spare at the moment,” replied Howe, his hand running over the ship’s surface, “it’s a Simiyiar-class Light Freighter, made by Mon Calamari shipwrights. It was pretty popular on the market during the era of the New Republic; and I think you can see why.”

“What studies got you this?” demanded Kitty, her eyes gazing across the ship.

“You have to tell them sometime,” advised Howe.

Ravenna glanced down, hesitated, and looked up into Kitty’s eyes. “Remember the times in the caves during training? When I guided us around to the fights?”

“Yes.”

“Did my adeptness at that ever seem a little eerily accurate?”

“Yes,” stated the lithe woman, “where are you going with this?”

Adrian let out a reluctant sigh.

“It turns out that I have some Force-sensitivity,” explained Ravenna cautiously, “That makes me somewhat like a Jedi. That’s how we navigated through the caves and found people. That’s how I made that sniper shot. I’ve been trying to use and harness it, but with mixed results. Sometimes it works spectacularly, sometimes not at all; like when I tried to talk to that alien at Myax’s place.”

Howe nodded understandingly, “Practice will make you better. It will make regularity, at least. Tell me, Adrian, what do you know about Susevfi, your home planet?”

The Susevfian blinked. “Not a whole lot. My father died there, and I was born there, but my mother took us away shortly after I was born. We’ve been nearly everywhere in that sector. Why do you ask?”

The Colonel hesitated. “Susevfi was home to an order of force-users: the Jensaarai. It’s likely that you are part of their heritage. Your parents could have been part of the Order. Do you know anything about this?”

“No,” replied Ravenna quickly, “nothing. My mother was always very quiet to me about talking about Susevfi. Maybe that is why. Maybe…maybe I should look through my mother’s old things before I head to the Academy.”

“Where are they now?” questioned Howe, raising an eyebrow.

“In long-term storage on Soroya.”

“Then that is your first task…”

Simiyiar-class Light Freighter Rogue Shadow, Almas

The Mon Calamari-built freighter smoothly flashed into hyperspace. Each of the Cularin System’s two stars beat down on the dark ship, their celestial light reflecting off the Shadow’s glossy hull. In the cockpit, Kitty adeptly piloted the Rogue Shadow with a combination of maneuvers involving foot pedals and Tie-fighter like control yoke. Unlike many freighters, the Simiyiar was designed to be operated by one person, so there was only one foremost seat instead of the twin seats Ravenna had grown accustomed to on the rusting hulk of the Windsaber. Adrian walked into the cockpit, his feat clanking on the metallic deck, his footsteps lightly echoing throughout the interior of the nearly silent ship. Kitty spared a glance from her piloting duties to greet the Susevfian man, who began to sit down on a black cushioned chair behind the woman.

“Welcome back,” stated Kitty dryly, “Swenson not with you?”

Adrian ruefully shook his head. “He’s too currently intrigued with the ship’s computers.”

Hawk’s eyebrows narrowed. Her lips curled inward. Adrian couldn’t see her reaction, but he could certainly feel the emotion emanating from the lithe woman in what otherwise was a desert of emotions. The blonde woman exasperatedly sighed.

“As long as he doesn’t tinker with anything…”

Adrian slightly smiled. “Don’t want this thing to fall apart like the Windsaber?”

She nodded. “They’re basically complete opposites, and I would like to keep it that way. This is a joyride vehicle.”

“How so?” questioned Ravenna, leaning forward.

“It feels like I’m flying a starfighter of some sort. Something to do with the controls and the ship’s handling,” replied the woman, “though I know that this is a freighter, and we’d lose races to most fighters.”

“Could we probably win races against other freighters?”

She smiled. “Probably. If Swenson had extra time, and the right parts, I’m sure he could make some worthwhile modifications that would make the Rogue Shadow even formidable. I’m especially thinking of the armament…”

Adrian winced. I’m not sure if private ownership is a curse or a blessing. Lucerne might have given me free maintenance and refueling for the Rogue Shadow, but I’m not sure if any modifications for private ships will be covered under in that document. But it could be important. Ravenna slowly shook his head.

“I’m not a ship person,” replied the man, “What’s wrong with the armament?”

“Nothing,” replied Hawk, “except that it’s a little weak if we end up in a fire fight.”

“What do we have?”

“A dual laser cannon mounted in the dorsal turret,” replied the woman, “surely you’ve seen it.”

“I saw the turret, but I didn’t know exactly what it was.”

She nodded. “It appears to be the factory installed armament. Something of a surprise to me. Most freighter captains almost always upgrade their armament as soon as the ship is out of the factory.”

Adrian grinned. “But we aren’t most freighter captains. Not only won’t we be running illegal operations from time-to-time, but we have the backing of the Confederation military.”

She smiled. “Can you guarantee that for me for all of the CSIS missions?”

“Well, not really…”

“Consider it,” advised Hawk, “it could save our lives, maybe.”

“Maybe,” repeated Adrian, “I’ll talk with Swenson about it.”

“Right. Did you get a chance to open your mother’s chests yet?”

“Only one,” said the Susevfian softly, “Only one would open for me.”

Kitty tapped a button on her console, sending a coded message groundside, and a small section of Almas’ planetary shield grid briefly lowered in order to grant them access to the planet. The Rogue Shadow jetted into the garden world’s atmosphere, flames licking around her impervious black hull. It tumbled forward into a slow dive. A powerful force briefly knocked Adrian into the back of his seat before the inertial compensators kicked in. The Rogue Shadow swiftly eclipsed through Almas’ dayside towards the shadowy night, heading for Forard. Ravenna closed his eyes and took measured breaths. The vibrant feeling of life slowly entered and regularly pulsed through his veins like blood; a quiet, serene tempo of life. He felt at peace as he attuned himself to the Force. The freighter dropped closer to the planet’s surface, breaking through the clouds. In the cockpit, the lush verdant surface glowed beneath them with Almas’ odd, phosphorous glow. The beat increased into a louder, vibrant tempo of life, flowing and ebbing with the Rogue Shadow passing over the fields and the rocky sides of the mountains. An intricate pattern of life, of energy, of the Force. The starship slowly deaccelerated to a running pace as it scaled up the mountain in which Forard was carved into. Rogue Shadow reached the artificially flattened summit, and their destination: the Almas Academy.

A tall, circular building of light grey jutted out from the ground towards the starry sky in a graceful, aging style oft found in the deep core. Sealed walkways extended out from it like a spider web to a series of rectangular buildings arrayed around it in an octagonal formation. Each one was roughly half of the main tower’s height and built in the same gracious style. They were the eight residence halls that had once housed hundreds of Padawans and dozens of Knights and Masters during the Golden Era of the Jedi Order. Those Jedi were but a distant memory in a handful of Forard’s older population. To them, it was fading glory that had disappeared into the sands of time, never to be unearthed again. But Adrian could still feel their presence as if they still walked the halls and instructed classes. To any force sensitive, the aura of light was overwhelming; formed by years of wise and peaceful Jedi walking through the halls. It was a Fortress of the Light.

Kitty quickly tapped a button on her control. A brief spurt of anxiety gripped her. The console pinged slightly, and relief rolled over her like the ocean tides. Adrian cocked to his head to the side.

“What was that?”

“An automated challenger,” replied the woman, “basically, it’s a droid that sends out a response code asking for the right password or pass key. Kind of like a sentry. If you fail, well, probably all of Almas Security Forces would be notified, and anything local they have here like a set of automated concussion missile launchers would try and blow us out of the sky.”

“You think they would have those here?” questioned Adrian softly.

She nodded. “I imagine there are a lot of hidden defences here besides those battle droids roaming inside of the building. Would you really have a giant warehouse of rare, valuable goods unguarded? I bet there’s more security to this place then we’ll ever know about.”

Adrian nodded. The Rogue Shadow slowed to halt as it neared an airlock on one of the residence halls. Kitty cranked several knobs on the control yoke, and gently pulled it over to her right. The light freighter edged over to the right, almost hitting the duracrete building. Suddenly, a strong magnet on the building aligned the Shadow’s airlock with its own, and viscously snagged the freighter. The two airlocks met with a sharp, metallic clang. Adrian frowned.

“Was that planned?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly. But there isn’t any damage showing up on the ship according to the damage diagnostics. The docking system probably just needs to be recalibrated. Swenson could fix that, I think.”

“Someone say my name?” asked the short man, entering the cockpit hastily.

“Yes,” replied Adrian, “Kitty was saying that you could probably recalibrate the building’s docking system so it would be…less jerky next time.”

The blonde smiled. “I bet I could, if you give me the time.”

Adrian and Kitty exchanged glances with each other. The lithe woman mournfully shook her head. Adrian smiled. Both of them turned to the tech specialist.

“Bob,” replied Kitty sternly, “what else are you going to do while you’re here? It’s an old school. And I don’t think the Jedi were interested in computers too much…”

Bob Swenson looked downcast. “Well, I was going to continue to work on my remote hacking program. I’ve got it downloaded on the portable that I brought with me…”

Adrian’s piercing, green eyes stared into Swenson’s glazed, blue ones.

“You will have time for that too,” assured Ravenna, “but I…well…we, we would appreciate it if there’s anything odd in the building, like the docking port. Fix it, if you can. I promise you that unless it is life-threatening, I’ll give you orders to work on your program for half the day, every day we’re here.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Smiling, Swenson eagerly shuffled out of the cockpit back to the cargo hold to retrieve his belongings. As soon as the small man’s back was turned, Kitty ruefully shook her head. She stared irritably at the Susevfian.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

“There will be no way of ripping him away from his computers if we need him for something minor.”

Adrian shrugged indifferently. “I could always order him to. Both of you are still under my…well…leadership.”

She smiled brightly. “Okay, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir,” ordered Adrian sharply.

Hawk shrugged. “So what do you want me to do? Not much flying I’d imagine…”

“Whatever you want to do,” replied the man, “if you want to watch old holo shows all day long, go ahead.”

“I’d rather kill myself for being a waste of space. Let’s put it this way: Is there anything, anything useful you can think of for me to do?”