It was really quite interesting to watch, Damalis decided. Differant from her own arrival she knew by a good bit, but watching the procedings in the hangar bay was an educational experiance. She'd came down here to get a few items from her shuttle, to brighten up her quarters of course, she'd deemed that more important than food. Plus, she'd simply had a quick snack while deciding which shawls and things to take, then headed back outside to witness a whole group landing.

At least, she assumed these men were joining together. It would be more than just a huge coincidence that they all seemed to fit the same general descriptions and everything. Plus they were being addressed as a group, stood as a group, and even answered as one whole unit. Ergo, they were joining together. Damalis wasn't so dense she didn't see that.

And actually, it was interesting to watch, even if she looked extremely out of place in her brightly colored shirt and golden hair. Damalis was just a natural bright spot in the gloom, even when she was trying to not be one. So while she stood to the side and unabashedly listened in on the precedings, there was still those who noticed she was there.

"Well Admiral, we have listened to everything you have to say, and well, I would like to be the first to say, @#%$ off." said Alexei as he pulled out his blaster pistol, and shot the guard closest to the Admiral through the chest. At this signal the other pirates pulled out their rifles and began shooting up the other guards. The commandoes used their deadly knifes to quickly slash the throats of the commanders, all except for Admiral Marin Faulkner himself. Alexei shouted out, "Okay boys, let's loot this place! Main, pillage, destroy!" yelled Alexei out wild. He and several of his commandoes began to head for a shuttle where a beautiful lady was seen, with gold hair, and sharp eyes. Other pirates got inside their starfighters as they began to take off, and prepare to fly air cover as the other pirates raided the storehouses, and rampantly shot anything else that moved. And they just let us in here Alexei thought to himself as the wild screaming began.

That was at least what Alexei briefly thought about in relation to his earlier discussion with Admiral Marin. Not that such a thing would happen in real life. Turning back to the Admiral, he and his men said as one and whole, "We accept your terms, Admiral."

With that, it was time to introduce all of his men. "Admiral, I would like to give you and your other commanders a breif introduction to my men. Let's start with the starfighter pilots. My second in command is...."

"God damnit, Zeal," John grunted, "You gotta start laying off those rations."

Somehow, John had managed to hoist the Klatooinian over his shoulders, and he was making, hopefully, a straight line for the Rebel encampment. The going was very, very, very slow. John had been trained to sprint with thirty pound packs on his back, but Zeal weighed around three times that. Not to mention the alien had fallen asleep and had started to scratch John with his claws.

At least it gave them time to enjoy the scenery of a Yavin IV night. Unfortunately, it also gave the scenery of a Yavin IV night time to enjoy them. There were more dangerous places in the galaxy than a Yavin IV night, but John couldn't remember any right now.

Off in the distance, John could just make out the lights of one of the Yavin temples that made up the Rebel base. He began to trudge a little faster, Zeal's weight beginning to slacken in his mind. Unfortunately, it was also beginning to slacken off in body. The Klatooinian was nearing death. He needed a medic, and fast. John, in his half-asleep state, somehow managed to realize that, and his pace quickened.

The wood from a nearby tree splintered into a thousand pieces as the tree itself neared toppling. At first, John thought it was a figment of his imagination, but he soon realized as the dirt kicked up around him that it was blaster fire. Live blaster fire. John had found his Seargent's killer.

John began to break out into a run, exhaustion loosing all meaning to him in the line of fire. The blaster fire continued to pour all around him, and John knew it would only be a matter of time before the killer found his or her mark. No more running.

John wheeled around and managed to lift his rifle, which was hooked to his belt, with one hand. He let out a spray of fire toward the general direction of his would-be assassin. The soldier was lucky, and he saw a figure tumble out from behind the cover of the trees.

He was so close to the Rebel base, but his feet were almost giving out on him. He could barely speak, so yelling was useless. Somewhere in his mind, John knew he had to fight the exhaustion, but he was too far gone by then to care. He sunk to his knees, and glanced over to Zeal.

Amazingly, the Klatooinian's eyes were open, even though he neared death. John stared into his companion's eyes and images from his past experiences came back to him. Helix...meeting Damalis....joining the Rebellion...the Ranger training....his dead Seargent...the would-be assassin tumbling out from the trees...and it went back to his dead Seargent. Slowly the image morphed from his dead Seargent to a dead Klatooinian, and John knew without a doubt that it was Zeal.

Stamina flooded back into him, and his body was temporarily rejuvinated. John got back to his feet, and began trudging shakily the final distance to the outskirts of the Rebel base.

"Freeze!" John heard the call, but it seemed so distant to him. All that he cared about was that he had done it. He was here.

And finally, with his last bit of strength, he managed to speak.

"M-m-m-medic!"

And then all went black.

Raven lay in bed, arms folded behind his head. Harlot sat against bunched pillows beside him. She and Martin had returned the day before, to find him preoccupied with deep secrets. A preliminary task force scheduling and planning book was spread open but unread in his lap.

He was assessing his life without Harry. It seemed bleak, even when charged with mystery and events of more than historic significance.

Harlot, black hair loose around her shoulders, glanced at her husband every few minutes, but did not interupt his reverie. Raven intercepted these glances without reacting. He almost wished she would ask.

He had spent all of his adult life knowing that Harry was available for discussion, by Comm or letter; available for visits on a day's notice, whenever they wern't both too involved in work. They had matured together, double-dated; Harry had approved wholeheartedly of Harlot when a much younger Raven had introduced them.

"I'll marry her if you don't," Harry had said, only half joking.

Together, for ten years, Harlot and Raven had arranged meeting after meeting of various eligible and sensible women and Harry, but Harry had always politely drifted away from these good matches. It had suprised everybody when he met and married Ithaca in New Helens seventeen years previous. The marriage, against all predictions, had prospered. Young socialite banker's daughter and scientist; not a likely success story, yet Ithaca had proved remarkably adept at keeping up with the rudiments of her husbands work, and had brought Harry a most useful dowry: loving, persistent training in the social graces.

Both had kept a stubborn independance, but Raven had sensed early on that Harry could no longer do without Ithaca. How would Ithaca get along without Harry?

Raven hadn't told Harlot yet. Somehow, the news seemed Harry's property, to be dispensed with his permission alone, but that prohibition was silly and Raven's wall of resistance was wearing thin.

Tomorrow morning he would fly to Vandenberg and be introduced to the "evidence." That would be the biggest moment of his life, bar none, and yet here he was on the edge of tears.

"@#%$," he said softly.

"All right," Harlot said, putting down her own book and rolling to lay her head on his shoulder. He closed the notebook and stroked her forehead. She wound her fingers through the salt-and-pepper patch of hair on his chest.

"Are you going to tell me? Or is it more security stuff?"

"Not security," he said.

He ached to tell her about that. Perhaps in a few weeks he could. News was leaking rapidly; he suspected that soon even the Valley find would be public knowledge. Everybody was too excited.

"What, then?"

"Harry."

"Well, what about him?"

The tears started to come.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Harlot asked.

"He has cancer. Leukemia. He's working with me on . . . this project, but he might not see it through to the end."

"My God," Harlot said, laying her palm flat on his chest. "Isn't he getting treatment?"

"Of course. He just doesn't think it will save him."

"Five more years. We keep on hearing five more years, and it won't be a killer anymore."

"He doesn't have five years. He may not have one."

Harlot hugged him closer and they lay together in silence for a moment.

"How do you feel?" she finally asked.

"About Harry? It makes me feel . . . " He thought for a moment, frowning. "I don't know."

"Betrayed?" she asked softly.

"No. We've always been very independant friends. Harry doesn't owe me anything, and I don't owe him anything. Except the friendship, and . . ."

"Being there."

"Yeah. Now he's not going to be there."

"You don't know that."

"He does. YOu should have seen him."

"He looks bad?"

"No. He looks pretty good, actually."

Raven tried to imagine one's entire body a battleground, with cancer spreading from one point, or through the blood, unchecked, a kind of biological madness, a genetic suicide aided by mindless, lifeless clumps of protein and nucleic acid. He hated all errant microscopic things with a sudden passion. Why could not God have designed human bodies with seamless effciency, that they might face the challenge of everyday life feeling at the very least internally secure?

"How was the visit?" Harlot asked.

"We had a good couple of days. We'll see each other tomorrow, too, and that's all I can tell you."

"A week, two weeks?"

"I'll call if it's longer than a week."

"Sounds like something big."

"I'll tell you just one more thing," he said, aching with greater intensity to reveal it all, to share this incredible news with the person he loved most on all the world.

"Don't spill the beans," she warned him, smiling slightly.

"No beans, no cats, just this. If it wasn't for Harry, right now I'd be the happiest man on the face of the planet."

"My God . . ." she said again. "Must be something."

He wiped his eyes with a corner of the flannel bed sheet.

"Yup."

Alexei turned about and gestured to his second in command. "Admiral, I would like you to meet my second in command, Drang. His full name is Lasso Drang, like many of my men, he is a Corellian Starfighter pilot, full of rocket blood and with no respect for the odds. He led an assault on a Imperial Bulk Cruiser just the other day that had tracked my men to their hiding spot. He has excellent leadership potential, but he needs to develop his tatical skills a little bit further." stated Alexei as Drang executed a smart salute. Moving on, Alexei started to introduce his other men when Marin suddenly stopped him, and chatted with Admiral Matthis Woods. Marin then walked off, leaving Woods to face Alexei. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm the person that should be listening to your men, since I cover the intelligence aspects of the operation." said the Admiral. Admiral Marin Faulker walked off towards the shuttle with the bonde bombshell he had seen earlier.

"Very well, Admiral Woods, let me introduce you to four of my best starfighter pilots, which unlike other starfighter pilots in my squadrons are from Agamar. They have very little in the way of intellegience, but what they lack in that department, they make up with stunning brutality, and aggressiveness. Normally in a starfighter engagement these four will lead the charge, enocuraging enemy starfighter pilots to try to take them down, from which we often pick many starfighter pilots off of their tails. Thier headstrong tatics often grab the attention of the enemy's best starfighter pilots, allowing us to see who they are, and vape them easily." said Alexei Ferrier as the four men behind him smiled with blank, idiotic expressions.

As Alexei moved on down the line, he sighted Admiral Faulker reaching the shuttle were the woman was. Ignoring them, Alexei went on with his introductions.............

As he left the group of Batiiv fighter pilots he noticed her. Standing in the hangar bay casually observing the ruckus. Not much of a ruckus really but something you don't see every day on Yavin 4.

Marin Faulker slowly walked over to the woman with a smirk on his face which he wore happily. She was breath taking. Marin hadn't seen a woman as beautiful in who knows how long. As he got closer he reached out to shake her hand. She gladly accepted with a warm smile.

"Damalis right?" He asked. Idiot!. He thought to himself. Of course she's Damalis who else would she be? "Marin Faulker, nice to meet you. I apologize that I haven't had the chance to meet you sooner."

"s'OK." She said. A huge smile never leaving her lips. "I'm sure you must be busy running a Rebellion and all."

Marin laughed out loud, and Damalis particpated in the laughter with him.

"Well I'm glad you've decided to join our cause Damalis. Oh by the way how are your quarters? I'm sure they're fairly drab compared to what you're used to but I tried to make your stay was hospitable as possible..."

Anderson entered the hangar, and took a look around. A lot of people he didn't recognise, but amongst the rebels he saw a few familiar faces. Ex-bounty hunters, famous vigilantes, former Imperials, all sorts of the flotsam and jetsam of the galaxy had wound up here. He spotted Marin talking to some girl he didn't recognize, so he walked on over to talk.

"Hey sir, and miss" he said, throwing out the most casual of casual salutes "Looks like the whole gang of galactic trouble-makers are here." He gave Damalis another look, doing his best to try and recall. "Um, sorry miss, but who are you?"

0380 Hours, Date Unknown (Military Calendar) /
Somewhere in Space, Carrack-class Light Cruiser Imperial Hammer

Blaster bolts hailed accross the hallway toward him. Kaniss kept running. They were too far behind to be able to hit him accurately, and if they didn't hit him accurately, the didn't hit him. His movements were too fast for the Imperials to react to. He had been in and out of the first two ships before anyone could raise the alarm. He had been greeted by a warm reception committe on the Carrack. Blaster bolts were very warm.

A second group of Imperials entered from a side corridor. They were much closer. Kaniss turned and leveld his rifle. The weapon synchronized with his viewscreen and the crosshairs rose into his line of vision with the rifle. He fired once, twice, six times. Six shots, six kills. The superheated plasma did its job well.

Kaniss turned once more and broke into a mad dash for the hangar. He'd likely run into more Imperials there, but he had every confidence in his ability to handle them. He had caught the three capitals with their graveyard crews, and the normal men were most likely only just now waking up. The more the hunter thought about the battle, the more pointless it became. Yet the long-term goals were much better. His...evidence of these actions would help him out.

The door slid open with a sssk, and several bolts narrowly missed him. Once again the rifle rose, and once again bodies fell. Kaniss was a man on fire, and the Imperials were quickly losing their nerve. Many of the graveyard troops were now hiding, waiting for backup that would arrive to late. The hunter had cleared the hangar of willing enemies.

Calmly, and casually Kaniss made his way to his ship. It was as if none of this had happened. The Miy'til Fighter, a gift from a Hapan friend, waiting for him. The Imperial cronies had likely boarded it, but the hunter saw no signs of external damage. He was almost to the fighter when the 'hero' popped out from behind cover.

Faster than the others could follow, Kaniss was turned around, rifle leveled and smoking. There was a good-sized hole in the trooper's chest. The man stared down at the wound in shock, stared at Kaniss again, and then slumped limply back into his hiding spot. No more challengers rose to face him.

The Miy'til blasted out of the hangar. Kaniss added his 'evidence' of the assault on the Imperial Hammer with the 'evidence' of the assault on the two Corellian Corvettes. Scattered turbolaser fire greeted him this time, despite his attempts to quiet the weapons. But the starfighter was too fast for them, and the ones he couldn't evade he simply outran until he could.

As he received the co-ordinates for lightspeed and engaged the hyperdrive, Kaniss could not help but feel a measure of satisfaction.

1900 hours, Date Unknown (Military Calendar) /
Yavin System, En Route to Yavin IV

Starlines faded to the usual dots as the Miy'til left hyperspace. Kaniss' alarms went off, although he was already awake. He had never caught himself asleep on a hyperspace reversion, but the hunter was systematic. He never took unneccesary risks. He was a machine...partly, at least.

Scanning the instruments, Kaniss found the ETA to Yavin IV to be a mere ten minutes. Space was desolate around the Yavin system, tourism to the old Rebel base long deserted after the fall of the New Republic. Exiting hyperspace nearby your destination was easy. The Rebellion should have hailed him by now, and, looking down, the hunter noted that they had indeed. It was ears only.

"Unidentified starfighter," a brisk voice, with only the slightest hint of fear, said, "You are entering Varydian Commonwealth space. Please present your proper identification codes."

The whole message was a ruse, and the Varydian Commonwealth did not exist. For .057 seconds Kaniss considered playing along, but then he remembered that he was a cybord. He didn't 'play' games.

"New Rebellion," Kaniss began, "this is Atreides Corporation Hunter-Kill Model AU-960 Alpha Codename 'Kaniss', requesting permission to land. Codes unknown, but I assure those on Yavin IV that I hold no current ties to the Empire. I...come bearing gifts."

Indeed he came bearing gifts. Rather comical gifts, in the hunter's opinion. Who will laugh? he wondered for the eighth time. Assuming they let me land.

Who will laugh indeed.

"Oh, my quarters are fine. A little drab, yes.." Damalis admitted truthfully, a smile still on her face to soften the admission. "But I have plenty of things to spruce it up." She held up one of the brightly colored scarves she'd scavengered from her ship and there was no question the fabric could brighten any dark corner. "I'm more interested in what I can do to help than whether things are sparkly enough in my quarters." For a moment she looked a little unsure of herself, before Damalis' normal cheerful personality reasserted itself. "Cause I have to admit I can't predict if I'll ever... well.. predict anything of use, so other than maybe a donation or something I haven't a clue how to pitch in..."

Anderson approached at that moment so she cut off her talk, just in case this man was coming up to tell the the commander something important. She really didn't want to talk over something like that, or interupt. When it became apparent it was just a casual conversation the man was starting, Damalis relaxed. When he spoke to her, she flipped one of the scarves over her shoulder, freeing her hand so she could hold it out as she introduced herself, a bright friendly smile on her face. "Damalis Skywalker. I just got here today."

Anderson nodded politely to Damalis "Pleasure to meet you miss."

He then turned back to Marin. "Sir, if you're busy, all I need is a mandate and I'll get out of your hair and promote the rebellion the best way I know how. But this ain't a regular rebellion, something tells me you've got big plans, and I want to help you with them."