The lounge of an Assault Frigate in Imperial service is usually not that comfortable. In the interests of efficiency, all pretense of comfort - couches, armchairs, recliners, etc. - are stripped and replaced, if the lounge itself is not replaced with a spare warhead storage room or weapons locker. But the Nightstalker was no ordinary Assault Frigate. Its lounge was intact and very comfortable. The frigate's owner, though an Imperial, believed that a place for soldiers to relax was absolutely necessary to performance as a team.

Captain Wesley Vos of the New Order stared out the lounge viewport at the vast expanse of skyscrapers and general business that was Coruscant. He was becoming accustomed to the scene, as the Nightstalker had now been in orbit for nearly two months, and the planet-wide city no longer held his interest.

As he turned his chair towards the Holonet projector, he thought about those long months. Cooped up here in the ship or down on the planet, Wes was beginning to feel a bit stifled. He could only imagine how his men felt. Each of them had served in active duty for several years, so they were no strangers to the ways of the New Order, but the training of the last six months had been intense.

The Nightstalker had transported them from planet to planet for four months, allowing them to train in every condition imaginable. Ingress methods, egress methods, tactics, survival skills, piloting, infiltration, weapon training - the best the New Order had to offer. By the time these months were up, each of the forty-eight men under his command was certified in every fighter in the New Order, marksmanship was at eighty percent or better (in a controlled environment, of course), and each was in the best shape of his or her life.

Then two more months of training on either the Nightstalker or on the planet of Coruscant itself, infiltrating gangs, rounding up criminals - on the job training that wouldn't get them killed. Now, though, they were ready for the real thing. Soon, Wes hoped, orders would come down the line and his men would be off, serving the New Order.

Flicking on the Holo Net, Wes switched over to planetary news. Nothing much - some local official was making a speech, some bureaucrat was doing some other crap...nothing worth watching. He began flipping through channels, searching for something that would catch his interest...there. A pirated station. Amazing. Something that didn't pass through a committee of concerned censors. He'd have to have Red 4 trace the signal.

Interesting story, though. Apparently an ameteur holorecorder had been at the scene of a recent explosion/arson in the lower levels of the city. The place had been an Imperial slaughterhouse of sorts. This really had to get off the air. As the story ran, Wes watched with limited interest...until a face caught his eye. It wasn't a whole, and it wasn't clear, but maybe... Wes paused the Net and worked the controls in order to get a close-up. Was that...no. That bag of crap wouldn't be coming around Coruscant any time soon. The jerk still owed Wes money from a sabaac game.

Another story - a race riot, or demonstration. Yet another amateur holorecorder. Decent footage, though. Wait, Wes thought to himself. Pausing the Net once again, he stared at the workman who had risen to speak. That's the same face. As he continued to watch, he recognized a Crowd Pleaser. Wonder if he's one of ours? Worth checking in to.

Plugging a datapad into the Net, Wes downloaded several frames and reached for his comm. He brought up a channel to Red 4, an expert slicer. The job he had wouldn't require any slicing, but he did need a trace run, and Red 4 was the man for the job.

Red 4 was quick to respond. "Red 4, go ahead, sir." Short, efficient, quiet. Good. He'd learned his lessons well.

Wes replied, "Red 4, I need a trace run on a face. The workman leader in the images I'm sending you. Let me know if he's one of our guys."

Two minutes later, Red 4 replied. "Negative, sir. He's running a Crowd Pleaser, though, right?"

Smart man, Wes thought. "Thanks, Red 4. And yes, it is a crowd pleaser." He thought for a moment. Switching channels, he commed his immediate superior. "Major, Captain Vos here. I just saw something on the Holo Net that caught my eye. Crowd Pleaser, and I do not believe he's one of ours."

Wes sent the frames once again and waited for the Major's response. Several minutes later (a testiment to Imperial efficiency) the Major commed, "You're right, Captain. He's not."

"Permission to investigate, Major?" Wes asked.

"Permission granted, Captain," came the reply. "Consider it your first mission."

Switching channels once again, Wes called in orders to all four squads to assemble in the briefing room in fifteen minutes.

"So what have we got on this Fims guy?" said J-1, who drained the contents of his morning caff.

J-5 lifted his computer on to the makeshift table in the agent's lair, and tilted it to J-1. "Not much. Five brothers and sisters, his parents manage a store in a midlevel district, he's got an honourable but not very decorated record with both the Imperial police and the New Republic police shortly before the planet's fall. Besides that? He's kept his nose clean and a low profile, just another citizen."

"I think it's worth the risk, sir," said J-4, who brought his mug over and sat by J-1. "I didn't detect any deceit, and if they'd wanted to kill or capture us they could have done so then."

J-1 lifted an eyebrow and said "Oh really? If you're sure, then I task you to head up this mission. Your persuasive skills could come in handy anyways."

J-6, the lumbering Azguard placing a fresh tray of mugs in front of the group before seating himself, furrowed his brow. "So we're not just going to break in there and take it?"

"No, J-6. Police are non-coms unless there's no other choice. We're going to have to do it quietly and unnoticed. J-4, you take J-2 for cover and J-5 for support, and I'll take J-3 and J-6 to cover your escape in case of an emergency. Sound fair?"

J-4 rubbed his chin slowly for a few moments, before nodding. "Yeah, I think I can hanle that."

"Good." J-1 slapped down the second mug back on the table. "Let's do this."



On the roof of the target police building stood J-2, coils of rope in his hand. Hanging from the rope, J-4 lowered himself over the side, down the back of the building. Nearby, J-5 kept watch in the less-than-flattering disguise that (unfortunately) his race did rather well, a rat.

"A little further," murmured J-4, as he hung just above a top floor window. Peeking in, he saw the room beyond to be both dark and unoccupied. With a nod to J-2, he was lowered yet further until he was level with the window. It was a moment's work for him to lever the window open and swing inside. He cut the rope, and the game was afoot.

Or else, it would have been. Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, J-4 realized he was in fact in a darkened supply closet. He fumbled for the door, but with his hand on the knob he felt it twist - someone was coming in! Thinking fast he grabbed... a lampshade.

Oh well. He dropped it on his head and squeezed into a corner. Thankfully, his cone-shaped head supported the lampshade easily. A disgruntled-looking janitor walked in, grabbed a mop, and walked out. J-4 waited a few seconds, wondering when laser death would burn through the door, but it didn't. Relieved, he began breathing again, as well as planning his next step.

On the roof, J-5 and J-2 stayed low as to avoid detection, J-2 quietly coiling the rope around his arm again. "Removed cameras?"

"Have these nail clippers ever failed me?" said J-5, who retrieved the tiny tool from the tangled mass of his fur. "How much longer do we have to wait?"

"Longer," said J-2 grimly. "The mission's just begun."

The operation was in full swing by now. The previous night, after the briefing, Wes had had Red 4 run a full search of all security holos using the two images from the pirated holochannel. Red 4 hadn't come up with much, but it was a start. He had managed to track the man through the city down to an old form of transport. Because of smog and the inability of his relatively small team of men to scour the hundreds of miles of urban wasteland, Wes did the only thing he could do. His men were told to plot all possible exits for the train and scan those areas for suspicious activity.

From there, though, they had nothing to go on. No actual evidence linking this man or his companions to a crime of any sort. They could always detain them, but if they were experienced, they would be able to resist interrogation methods. The only thing Wes was waiting on now was a scan of all activity in the area.

"Sir," came a voice from behind him. Wes slowly turned from the view port, where he had been gazing out at the cityscape again. Red 4 approached and saluted.

"Sir, we've traced all activity in the area and only come up with one possible contact. A police vehicle recently made an excursion into an unmonitored area. It will take time, but I believe we can patch into the speeder's monitoring systems and locator records."

Wes took the information in. What a break! Most of the planetary security force had no clue that the Empire tracked their every move. Transmitters, holos, recording devices, locators - the Empire thought of everything. Sometimes the Empire's suspicions of even its own paid off handsomely.

"Run a check on the speeder," he said. "See which officer had it at the time. Then pull his data files - I want to know everything."

***

So Wesley Vos now found himself in a speeder, headed towards the residence of one Bartley Fims, constable of the planet Coruscant. Accompanying him were Captain Lucen Sephios, his second in command; Black 3, his best martial artist; Red 4, his slicer; and Racen Selerre, commander of Gray Squadron. In a second speeder were Fims' parents, along with two more Imperials, and his siblings were being detained at HQ. Direct holo feed, of course. This man was going to help them.

Earlier that morning, around 0300 hours standard time, Red 4 had managed to patch into the locater for the vehicle, as well as into the audio feed of the recording device on the speeder. The man had said quite a bit that incriminated him as a criminal to the Empire. The only problem was that they couldn't pick up anything from the time he left the security holo coverage until the time he returned. Whoever he met with had had some kind of jamming device. The holos were a bit better. It was clear that Fims had met with enemies of the Empire, but who they were or what they said was unknown. But they would find out.

Captain Vos exited the speeder first, followed by the rest of his team. In order to show the man they meant business, they did not knock or ask for admittance. Instead, Red 4 moved silently forward and began working on the security codes for the door. Ten seconds later, the door slid open, and Captain Vos led the way inside.

It didn't take long to find Fims' bedroom. The constable was asleep - too happily, it seemed to Wes. Waving his men into the room, he pulled out a small scanner and activated it. One blaster, by the constable's head. Vibroblade nearby. Cautious guy...but not cautious enough.

Gray 1 (Selerre) moved his two hundred plus pound bulk forward and grabbed the sleeping constable by his shirt, lifting him into the air with seemingly little effort, and at the same time moving him away from both weapons. The constable, wide-awake now, started screaming and yelling. Too much of a racket for Wes. The noise suddenly stopped as Fims found himself looking down the barrel of a 9mm slug thrower with the eye of a very angry Imperial Captain behind it.

Fims' face visibly deflated. He knew he was in trouble. The constables of Coruscant are well trained, but they are generally not known for their ability to keep their emotions hidden. Intelligence people were better at that sort of work, the High Command figured. No need to train the constables. It wasn't the first time Fims had thought them wrong. But this time, he thought now, it just might be the last.

Wes spoke quietly. "Now, Mr. Fims, we can do this one of two ways. The Commander here can set you down and you can cooperate nicely, or we can severely damage you and then you can cooperate, though perhaps not so nicely, eh? You choose."

Fims didn't have a hard decision to make. A quick glance showed at least four Imperials, all armed, against himself, unarmed and helpless. He nodded fearfully.

"Good," continued Wes, lowering his weapon. "Set him against the wall, Commander. Gently, please," he added, as Selerre moved too quickly. "Now, Mr. Fims," he began, "we know that you have been consorting with enemies of the Empire. If I so desired, it would be perfectly within my rights to execute you right now." Fims began to sweat. This was working quite well. "If you know anything about Imperial procedure," Wes continued, "you know that we have already apprehended your family and are holding them."

Wes produced a live-feed holo and showed it to Fims. "Here, take a look." The holo showed his five siblings in binders, surrounded by Imperial guards. "Now, it would be quite easy to execute them, as well. Furthermore," Wes said as Fims' parents were brought into the room, "you can see that we could torture and execute your parents as well. Just so you know the seriousness of your crime, Mr. Fims.

"Now, Mr. Fims, I don't really want to hurt you or your family. It is not my idea of an enjoyable morning, ripping out people's nails, sending electrical shocks coursing through their bodies...so please don't make me do so." Perfect. Fims was basically a puddle on the floor by now.

"So, Mr. Fims. You give us accurate information on everything, and I mean everything, you and the creatures you met yesterday discussed, and I will allow you all to go free. If the information is false, or if you refuse, well...I really don't need to tell you what we'll do, do I?"

Fims blurted out, "I'll tell you, I'll tell you, just don't hurt them, please don't hurt them!" He was a mess by now. The Empire had discovered his treason that quickly. A small part of the constable was amazed by the efficiency of the Empire even while he trembled and wept with fear.

Wes was in complete control now, and he knew it. "Then start talking, Mr. Fims, and we'll see how useful your information proves."

Fims began. "I simply told them where the Commissioner kept his arrest files. They're under a chair in his office. I also told them that I appreciated what they did by calming the riots."

Wes searched the constable's face. No trace of a lie. "And what did they tell you? Anything? Or did you just offer that information freely?"

"No," replied Fims. "They all but confirmed they were spies from the Coalition."

"All but confirmed?" asked Selerre.

"Well, they didn't actually admit it...but when I asked them, they didn't deny it, either."

Wes smiled. That was all he needed. "Alright. Thank you, Constable; you've been more than helpful. Commander, escort this man and his family down to headquarters. Place them in separate cells until we return. Remain at the base with Gray and Green Squadrons, and have Black and Red meet me at this rendezvous point." Wes passed Selerre a datapad he had just entered the coordinates into. "And Commander, tell them to hurry."

Fims protested as he was being led away. "But Captain, I told you what I know!"

Wes smiled once again. "We'll find out, won't we?" He turned to the rest of his men. "All right boys, lets move."

***

The rendezvous point was about a kilometer from the security station and the Commissioner's office. The two squadrons met at about the time J-4 was disguising himself as a lamp. Wes immediately began issuing orders. "First, and most important, no shooting. I want all of these guys, and I doubt they're stupid enough to send everyone on one operation. We observe, then follow them back to wherever their base is.

"Black Squadron, you stay with me. We spread out on this side of the station. Red, circle around out of sight and come from the other direction. I want that place covered from all angles. Understand? If there's no one there, we wait. They have to come sometime, and it will be soon. If they are Coalition, they're on a very hostile world, and they'll want to get off as quickly as possible." He eyed up his team. He'd certainly picked the best. "Remember, no shooting." He took a deep breath, then finished, "Go."

Red Squadron piled into their speeders and moved off. Black Squadron moved slowly up the street, using bridges and the speeders when necessary. It wasn't long, though, before they were in visual range of the station. Wes pulled out a pair of macrobinoculars.

No sign of life as of yet - well, there was that rat...or was it a rat? Wes zoomed in closer...there. Couldn't tell what it was, but it was definitely movement. Two clicks on the comm indicated that Red Squadron was in position. Two more clicks - they'd also spotted something. Now just to sit and wait.

With the power cable 'pinched' by one of J-5's gadgets, J-4 was able to carefully enter the office of the commissioner undetected. The commissioner himself was out, giving J-4 ample time to move over towards the hidden panel behind the desk.

Behind the desk was the commissioner's chair, which J-4 quickly pushed away. Without a moment's hesitation, the Cerean spy set to work on the floor beneath it, feeling gloved hands for the edge of an opening or the secret button or key that would release it. After a bit of fumbling, he found the edge. J-4 stuck his knife into the gap, and with a bit of levering managed to open the panel up.

Jackpot.

Inside, a datapad sat, and upon turning it on J-4 could see the list of detainees, arresting officers, charges, and transfers. Hurriedly he hooked up a pocket data stick up to the datapad, and copied the information over. His mission complete, he switched off the datapad and shoved it back into the hole, replacing the panel and the chair.

As he got up to leave, however, a sheet on the desk of the commissioner caught his eye. J-4 paused, and craned his neck to get a better look.

It appeared to be a list, similar to the list of detainees he had downloaded but in place of criminals there were listed... races, different species and ethnic distinctions. The thing read like a rap sheet, listing the dangers and supposed liability that each group represented, urging limits and countermeasures. Even his own people, the Cereans, were singled out as posessing "suspiscious paranormal powers" and being accused of "Manipulation and pro-Coalition Propaganda". Admittedly, that he was a Coalition spy specializing in manipulation didn't help their case, but his shock and curiosity grew as he read.

Before he could continue, however, he heard armored footfalls - no mere policeman could make those noises. J-4 realized he was in trouble. He dashed forwards, grabbing the pinch off the power cable leading into the office as the sound of heavy feet grew closer. It'd be a scant few seconds before the power would return, J-4 thought desperately of his options and where he could go.

He had few. He turned, ran, and leapt.

Thank the gods the window was open. Even moreso that his training kicked in, and he caught the paraphet before tumbling away.

Clinging to the side of the building, J-4 did his best to stay still and blend in, watching as strange soldiers he hadn't seen before passed below. He was fiercly questioning what he could possibly do now when a rope rolled down towards his head. Glancing up, he saw J-5 gesturing frantically for him to climb - he did so, and reached the roof.

There, the three agents hunkered down and stayed low, their voices hushed. "Did you get it?" asked J-2, who was loading his sniper rifle surreptitiously.

"Yeah, I think so," said J-4, still a little shaken from what he'd found in the office. "What's going on?"

"Dunno," said J-5. "A lot of weird looking troopers have surrounded the building. They're heavily equipped and have vehicle support. They've blocked off our escape route."

"Were we sold out?" asked J-2, who had moved on to locking the access door to the roof.

"I don't think so..." said J-4. He unholstered his pistol and checked that it was loaded. "Then again, who's to say that Fims could hide what he'd done and what he knew?" J-4 bit his lip, and said "No escape route? What are we supposed to do now?"

J-5 smiled, and said "Don't worry. I risked being seen earlier, but it was worth it to get a signal out. J-1 promised to 'cover our escape in case of emergency', didn't he?"



Armored men dashed about the perimeter, surrounding the police station as their target in choice. Black Squadron was hanging back a little, watching from their speeders. One man stood out from the rest - an officer, observing the action with his binoculars and generally staying detatched. One man who soon felt the gentle pressure of a knife's edge on the soft part of his back.

"You move, you die. You speak, you die. You resist, you die. You sneeze, you die." J-1's voice was down to growl level. "When you're setting up a perimeter, you have to learn to watch your back.

"You look a little green, rookie, so this is what I'm going to do. You call your men back, you smile and nod, nothing's wrong, all that, and you go home. You do that and I won't find it necessary to ventilate your armor. There's always tomorrow, top gun - I'd suggest starting your search over again then.

"Oh, and don't get any funny ideas on testing your quick draw. I've killed more men with a straight edge than you've known in your whole life. I've got more men waiting for you to get this job done, if I need them." Leaning in, J-1 whispered to his ear "Now get going on those orders."

Wes cursed under his breath. His men were making too much noise, and they were too visible. All that training, and still they acted like raw recruits. Oh well. Perhaps they could pick up the ones inside. He was about to give the order to move in when he felt steel on his back.

"You move, you die. You speak, you die. You resist, you die. You sneeze, you die. When you're setting up a perimeter, you have to learn to watch your back." Wes did as the Voice said. He didn't move, speak, or even breathe. He just stood there and waited. Inside, though, he was cursing himself and his men for their stupidity. Truth was, he had expected his men to watch behind as well as in front, meaning these guys were really good or his men were worse than he thought.

"You look a little green, rookie, so here's what I'm going to do." Green? Green!?! This spy thought he was green? Wes had seen plenty of combat! Albeit, most had not been this spy-game type, but he was far from green. "You call your men back, you smile and nod, nothing's wrong, all that, and you go home." Wes was beginning to think that was a good idea. His men obviously weren't up to the level he thought they were.

He said quietly, "I'm going to raise my arm to do what you say. Comlink is attached to my wrist." Slowly, he lifted his hands to his mouth. Pressing a button on his wrist, he spoke. "Red Squad, Black Squad, stand down. Miscommunication. These guys are ours. Intelligence operation. Black 1, wait at the rendezvous with a speeder. I'll meet you there."

One thing that had been drilled into his men was never to question their commander's orders. As the men began to pull back, Wes dropped his arms and spoke to the Voice. "I don't know who you are, and I don't really care. I don't care what criminal schemes you have going. I'm not a cop, I'm a soldier. Just assure me that this isn't a spy operation, and I'll leave you to it. There will be no interference from us."

Of course, Wes had no intention of leaving these men alone. Whatever they were attempting, it was obviously anti-Imperial. But wanting to throw suspicion off Fims and away from his means of intelligence, he was attempting to imply that they simply wandered by and noticed some suspicious activity.

The knife moved away from Wes's back, although the unspoken possibility that it could be rapidly returned hung in the air. "The only thing I'll assure you of is if you do interfere with me again, I won't ask nicely before gutting you." J-1 glanced over his opponant one more time, noting the rank insignias. "Good night, captain."

With that, it was as if he was never there.



"The way's clear!" hissed J-5. "Down the rope! Quick!"

Without another word, the three pinned spies rapelled down the side of the police headquarters that lead to the back alley, pulling their ropes after them. J-2 lifted up the sewer grate, letting J-4 and J-5 into the dark tunnel below. J-2 pulled down his targetting goggles, allowing infra red to confirm that they were alone, before jumping down after them and pulling the grate shut.

"What a wonderful smell you've discovered," muttered J-4, as he brushed sewage off his suit. "Are we clear?"

J-2 nodded, and pointed down the tunnel. "Rendezvous point."

"Hey guys!" said J-5, who was bobbing just above sewage level. "Can one of you give me a hand? It's a little deep over here!"

J-4 picked up the little Bimm spy and placed him on his shoulder. J-5 shook off the layers of sludge that had stuck to his unkempt hair. "Let's just get out of here, fast."

It didn't take long. Shortly after wandering the sewerlines, they found J-1, J-3, and J-6. Cutting straight to the point, J-1 went straight to J-4 and asked "Have you got it?"

J-4 reached into his pocket and removed the data stick, shaking off some clinging muck. "It's all here. We now know where our man's been locked up, but who were those guys back there? They didn't look like law enforcement."

"They weren't," muttered J-1. "They were soldiers, but not just Stormtroopers, they looked special-ops. I think someone's on to us."

"Shouldn't we go back, then?" said J-4. "Back to base, I mean. They could have followed us back and hit Xarrin and his gang."

J-1 shook his head. "No, the gang's all right, and if they knew where it was they would have hit it already. I had the word passed down for them to go to ground for the rest of the day, in case anyone comes snooping. That means the biggest danger to their safety is us, and wether we're being followed or not. I hope you aren't all tired out yet, we've got a long walk ahead."

J-4 groaned, and shook his head. "We were better off stuck on the rooftop."



Eventually, most people acclimatize to the smell of sewage, as Coruscant's increasingly poor alien populations could tell you. Even the strain of wading through it was bearable. The big problem as the six slogged it through pipes, over junk heaps, along slums, and via long-abandoned tunnels, was direction. The Urban Jungle had given way to the Urban Ecosystem until, at this late stage, Coruscant was its' own mineature Urban Galaxy, with a single skyscraper containing the population of a whole country on lesser planets. J-1 lead with dogged determination and certainty as they passed the sometimes downright feral and primitive inhabitants that lurked around the anchorings of centuries-old cityscape.

Nevertheless, they knew it had to be done. Every branching path, every honeycombed ruin, every semi-civilized shanty town was another place to lose pursuers, and another facet of the vast undercity that had taken root below.

As they walked, J-4 caught up with the group's leader, falling into pace alongside him. "Listen, sir, there was something I saw back at the police H.Q, a list of species the police were being told to watch out for, to keep tabs on."

"The Empire's been known for racist policies of varying degrees its' whole life, J-4, there's nothing strange about that."

J-4 scratched the back of his head sheepishly, and turned to J-1 again. "Well yeah, but... since those special ops men started pursuing us, I've been thinking. What if our actions on Coruscant just serve to worsen the images of the people and races here? By drawing people like Xarrin and those protestors and our own respective specieses (excluding yourself) into it, aren't we just making things worse for everyone?"

J-1 was quiet but unwavering for a few moments, before responding in a measured tone. "If the Empire chooses to persecute people in response for our actions, that will only breed more resentment of them and draw them more fully into the truth. Those people they persecute in response to what the Coalition does will in turn strengthen us."

J-4 gave J-1 a disturbed look, saying fearfully "But that's just dividing people against each other. We're providing the justification for their persecution right now - when they take away liberties to keep the peace and security of the Empire, it's because we're out here disrupting it."

J-1's stride increased, forcing J-4 to catch up again. When he replied, J-1's voice was a little harsher than before. "They're willing to strip liberties wether they've got an excuse or not. We're not a reason for it, we're just the scapegoat, and you've got to remember that when we're as deep in as we are right now. I can't afford any one on this team having doubts about the mission so long as people's lives are on the line, not even you. Is that clear?"

J-4 seemed surprised, and took even longer to respond. When he finally did, he said "What is it, J-1? I can feel something isn't right with you. Something's been off ever since we got here."

"Nothing's wrong with me," he growled, and stormed off, leaving J-4 behind.

Don't think of her. Remember the mission. What is wrong with me?

As soon as J-1 disappeared, Wes spoke into his comlink. "Black 1, gather the rest of your squadron. No armor this time. We're gonna search the station and figure out what they were after. Red 1, I want you to find the commissioner. I don't care how, get him down here. I need to talk to him. Gray squadron, bring the prisoner down as well. Make sure he knows the type of force we'll use if necessary. Green squadron, I want you in the air now. Any possible routes they could use to take off from the planet, I want them monitered. Suspicious-looking ships should be inspected and detained if necessary."

Wes silently cursed again. Yes, the whole operation was set up a bit hastily, but his men should have done better. They were trained for this sort of work. They had been too loud and gotten too close. They had been ordered to observe only. He shook his head. Once this mission was done, they'd be in for some heavy training time.

It wasn't long before Black Squadron arrived. Wes had Black 8, 10, and 11 move in and scan the area. They were some of his best in intelligence and stealth operations, and they knew what to look for. Skin fragments, fingerprints, footprints, anything like that would give them identification of at least species.

Not surprisingly, though, their search turned up nothing. When the building was pronounced clean, Wes and the rest of the squadron moved in. They combed the building from top to bottom. Black 2 was the first to discover the point of entry - a janitorial closet. Wes almost laughed at the simplicity of it. But sometimes those types of plans were the best.

Black 4 followed the most likely path down to the commissioner's office. Great, Wes thought. They probably got away with something good. Just great. He ordered a thorough search, but the only thing that came up was the list of aliens and they're relative risk. Wes glanced at the sheet and thought about it.

He'd never been much of an alien-hater himself. He knew the Empire's policies, but he also had heard the stories of Grand Admiral Thrawn and some of the aliens that had served the Rebellion. They seemed to have their strengths, and Wes wondered why the Empire didn't make use of those strengths a bit more readily. But Imperial law was Imperial law, and it was to be obeyed. That, Wes put before all else.

At that moment the commissioner, escorted by four troopers of Red Squadron, entered the room, protesting loudly. Wes simply turned and stared at him. When the man seemed to be done, Wes asked, "Did you know that your office was just raided by what seem to be Coalition spies?" Nothing like the truth to shock a man into action, right?

It seemed to work. The commissioner's jaw dropped, and his face went white. "D...d...did they f...find anything?" he stammered.

"I was kind of hoping you could tell me that, Commissioner." Though he used the proper title, Wes's tone indicated nothing but disdain for the man and his office. "See anything missing? Anything important?"

The Commissioner was not the brightest man in the world, but he knew the consequenses of stalling with Imperial soldiers, as these seemed to be. He went immediately to the desk and began moving papers.

Wes stopped him. "Don't worry, the list is in our possession. They didn't get that. Anything else? Or do we have to tear your office apart?"

The Commissioner simply stood stock-still. Unless he had to, he didn't intend to tell these intruders of his personal copies of arrest and detainment records. Wes turned to Black 1. "Alright. Destroy it."

"Wait, wait, wait," said the Commissioner. Wes held up his hand to stop Black 1. "Under the chair here, there should be a list..." He stopped as he opened the little box and found it empty. His eyes closed in horror and disbelief.

"What list, Commissioner?" asked Wes.

"It's a personal copy of all arrests and detainments made in the past...oh, I don't know. Since I got promoted."

"And that is of interest to us why?"

"Because it also has the locations of the prisons the detainees are being held in," replied the commissioner.

Wes's eyes narrowed. Drawing his slug thrower, he said, "Commissioner, simply being in possession of such files is evidence of treason. Your confession has been heard by all of these here, and in such case it is my obligation to declare you a traitor to the Empire. You are hereby sentanced to death by my hand, as is in my rights as an Imperial officer." Even as the Commissioner began to protest, Wes stopped and said, "Unless you have something else to tell me that I find useful. Anything else in this office?"

The Commissioner's silence was answer enough. A single silenced shot was heard, then the whimperings of the condemned man were silenced forever. "Get this traitor out of here," Wes commanded to no one in particular. Several of his men jumped to the task. As the commissioner's body was carried out, Fims was escorted in. At the sight of the dead Commissioner, Fims began to whimper as well. Wes stared at him for a moment, then spoke. "Mr. Fims. If you don't want to meet the same fate as your boss, I suggest you tell me what the Coalition spies would want with a list of detainees and their location. Any in particular they wish to bust out?"

"I...I don't know," Fims stammered. "I just gave them the information that the Commissioner had the files. I don't know exactly who they were looking for."

Wes considered this for a moment, then said, "Alright, Fims, I believe you. Red Squadron, take him back to base. Have one flight of Green Squadron come down to guard him."

As the men turned to leave, Wes considered his options. There were only three prison areas in this sector of Coruscant. Perfect. Wes commed in. "All squadrons, rendezvous at base in thirty minutes. In the briefing room."

With that, Wes turned on his heel and headed for the speeders. He had work to do.

As the sentries recognized the six weary figures, they lowered their rifles and stepped aside, allowing the spies entry to the gang's hideout. There, in the dimmed command room, a couple dozen men and women lurked about and cradled all manner of personal weapons. Xarrin was engaged in a heated discussion with Jian when J-1 walked into the room. He turned with smouldering anger in his eyes.

"What the hell have you gotten us into? We've had to pull down everything and huddle here waiting for you all day! I want an explination or by-"

J-1 flipped him the datapad, which Xarrin managed to catch. "On that pad is the list of all the arrests made by a local police station for the last couple months. It includes prisons they were sent to, arresting officers, offences, the works. I want to break someone out, and I want you to help me."

Xarrin marvelled at the spread of information before him, forgetting his complaints in the process. "I recognize a few of these names, some of these guys were working for us from time to time. Who do you want to break out?"

"An Imperial," said J-1, who savoured the reaction on Xarrin's face. He continued before the man blew his top. "An ex-Imperial agent arrested for treason. Since you don't recognize him and we certainly weren't working with him, there's a good chance the treason charge was trumped up because of something else. What we do know was that he was mid-level and involved in internal affairs, a sticky office where it's easy to find yourself censored or dead. I want to know what it is he learnt that got him locked up. To do that, I need to get my team into Sector 8A-23 Maximum Security Prison, and for that I'm going to need your help. You in?"

Xarrin gave J-1 a penetrating look, and slowly scratched his head. "What, right now? What about those guys you said you saw earlier?"

"No, not yet," said J-1. "We'll need to lay low for a little while, get some intel, wait for the heat to die down maybe. Then we make a move. It's going to get serious, Xarrin, and maybe we can spring some of yours while we're in there, but I need to know right now - are you in?"

Again, Xarrin paused. This time, however, a grin cracked his rough features. "You're starting to sound less like some Corellian finishing school prick, boy. I'm in."

J-1 smiled, and nodded. "Good. Let's get down to business then."

Wes stared at the men assembled before him. Supposedly the best in the Empire, but all Wes could see after the recent debacle was a motley crew of idiots. Time for a chewing-out would come later, though. For now, they had a mission to accomplish.

"As you know by now," he began, "the police headquarters here was recently broken into, and some vital documents were stolen. Documents that list where prisoners are being held. We believe the invaders to be Coalition spies.

"We don't know exactly who these spies are searching for. What we do know is that there are only three prisons within their assumed range of movement. So here's what we're going to do.

"Black Squadron, I want you to cover Sector 8A-22 Maximum Security Prison. I'll have you assigned as guards. Remember, this is an undercover mission. Let's keep it that way.

"Red Squadron, you'll cover Sector 8A-21 Maximum Security Prison. Same thing for you. Green Squadron, you'll be covering Sector 8A-23 Maximum Security." He paused momentarily. He figured this one would be the least likely to be hit; it housed political prisoners - mostly Imperials. But he figured even his greenest squadron could handle it.

"Gray Squadron, you'll stay back and coordinate from here. You'll also need to be ready to speed to any of the prisons as backup. I'll be here as well, for the same purpose. Any questions? Good. Then move out."

Wes turned and strode from the podium and out a side door. He'd have to coordinate this quickly. Taking the turbolift to his quarters, he got on the comm to his superior. "Major, I need to have men assigned as guards to the three prisons I'm sending you. We suspect Coalition spies will attempt a breakout in one of them."

There was a slight pause, then the response came back. "Confirmed. Go ahead and send them. I'll set it up."

Wes smiled. This should go well. Or so he hoped. When he reached his quarters, he set an alarm for three hours and went to sleep. He'd need it.

The sun went down once more on the city that never slept, for it was always daytime somewhere on Coruscant. Even as they watched the late night sky block out the few rays that could filter down to the bottom-dwelling residents of the galaxy's capital, J-1 could feel the group coming alive.

Learning to sleep and rise when it suited the mission was one of the things any good spy learnt, and J-1 was a fierce adherent to it. Even as his five teammates still stirred from their bedrolls, he was bent over the map stretched out on their crude table, tracing his fingers over the layout of the city above. He glanced briefly at J-2 as he joined the table, before returning to silent contemplation.

When all the agents were roused and assembled round the table, only then did he begin to speak. "Our target is the maximum security prison facility 8A-23, a tower block built on top of what is otherwise an entirely abandoned and sealed skyscraper. The jail itself is twelve stories and built in modern tones of black steel right on top of what was originally low-cost government housing - one day the government decided there were so many criminals lurking in the slum that it would be easier to turn it into a prison directly than have to arrest the residents one by one.

"Since then it's become a veritable fortress. There's only one way in or out without transportation, and that's a drawbridge connecting the prison to a heavily fortified walkway which is in turn connected to a Corrections Department type of building. The drawbridge is pulled shut unless a convoy of supplies or prisoners is heading in or out, and then it's under heavy guard.

"Since the tower it's built over is abandoned and sealed, there's no access path from below. Even if you could get into the tower, the interior is in terrible disrepair and there's a whole floor's worth of defences and thick armor designed solely to make it impenetreble from that direction. We can thank Xarrin's long career in law enforcement for most of this knowledge, along with J-2's recon work, but that's all we know - the number of guards, their quality, interior defences, all unknown variables.

"What we do know, is that the target is inside, Agent C. Grewal. We want him alive and intact. Should that be a bust, then we want anything in the building that could give us another lead - confessions, interrogations, anything. Secondary objectives for the mission involve springing a couple of Xarrin's old 'friends' from the prison, but like I said that's secondary. If we can't make it to them, we leave without them. Are we clear?"

The group gave slight nods of consensus. "Good. Like I said, this place is a fort, but there's a weak-point. Regular supply trips are made in and out of the prison. It's the only time their guard is down, but if they smell a rat they can call on a small army of reinforcements from the Corrections building across from them. We smuggle in, find our target, extraction by unmarked airspeeder and shaped charges - J-6, you have the charges?"

"Right here, I checked them myself."

"Good, check them again. Once we're out we lose them in the undercity and make our way back here. Questions?"

"Permission for lethal force?" said J-2.

"Granted. The mission's success is of the highest priority. Use discretion, however, to avoid tripping the alarm."

"What's our contingency plan?" asked J-4. "If the plan fails, how do we escape?"

"In your kits are standard rappel kits. We use the charges to blow a wall and rappel down the side of the building. We hide out in the abandoned tower until the heat dies down, then call for extraction."

J-5 hefted his laptop onto the table and began typing. "What security systems can I expect? Do we know anything about the network they're using?"

"Closed system, it's post-Imperial so don't bother bringing any old Republic stuff, they aren't using any leftover networks. The power system isn't especially protected as far as we can tell, so any normal blackout tricks should work." J-1 glanced around the group, looking his fellow spies in the eye. "Well, are we ready? The operation begins as of now."



From shadow to shadow, figures moved furitively and quickly, avoiding moonlight as though it would turn them to dust. Squatting in the darkness, Xarrin, some of his gang, and the Coalition's finest spies peeked around the corner at the ominous silhouette of Maximum Security Prison 8A-23. Lanterns hanging at odd angles along the outer edge of the prison gave a red glow to the base of the building, which was ground into the roof of the tower. J-1 was put in mind of old, bad holo-movies that took place on tropical islands, where the natives would hurl would-be explorers into volcanoes at midnight.

"Okay," whispered Xarrin. "This is as far as we go. We'll have your extraction ready, you just be there at the right time. We clear?"

"Crystal," murmured J-1, as he sized up the prison. "Was this thing up while you were working for the New Republic?"

"Are you kidding me?" said Xarrin. "That place is a black hole. People who go in there are just one step away from dead until they're not worth keeping around any more. The New Republic didn't have the funding, we used red tape to get the same effect." Xarrin sighed, and said "Stop thinking about history and start thinking about how you're going to be the first guy to come out of there alive."



The convoy of supply crates drifted in on repulsorlift platforms, guided by a patrol of stormtroopers right up to the gaping chasm that separated 8A-23 from the outside world. Glacially, a bridge extended to connect the two platforms, and over that precarious drop the cargo was guided until a pair of gate guards on the other side took it into custody.

"What've we got today?" asked one guard, as he pulled up his datapad. "Regular shipment, right?"

"Yep," replied the lead stormtrooper. "Food, water, and uh... tools of the trade. All packed and ready to go."

The guard nodded. "We can take them from here. Top security tonight, huh?"

"Whatcha mean?" asked the stormtrooper, as he pushed the crates up to the door.

"Y'know, all those new guards who got posted here?"

"Hey, don't look at me, I didn't hear nothing about any new postings."

"Really? I thought they were from your department. Well, okay then." The door guard was about to send them on their way when he paused. He frowned. "Did that crate seem heavier to you a minute ago?"

"Heavier than what?" said the stormtrooper, who gestured for his squad to stay.

"Heavier than usual, I mean."

The stormtrooper returned to the crate, looking at it critically through the impassive features of his helmet. "Yeah... a little. I dunno, I didn't think it was important."

Slowly, the door guard put his hand on the edge of the crate, feeling for the handle, and gradually lifted the lid. They peered inside.

"Huh," said the stormtrooper. "Looks just fine." He rustled his hand around inside, moving packets of food and other basic necessities around. "Maybe they just put some more in for those new guys you were talking about."

"Yeah, maybe." The guard sighed, and said. "You go on ahead then, we'll take care of this."



Pushing and grunting, the two door guards finally managed to get the last cart of supply crates into the prison's storage room. Wiping the sweat from his brow, one guard remarked "If those new guys are staying long, we'll need a third guy at the gate to get all their supply crates in."

With that, the two of them left and switched off the light behind them. In the darkness, something stirred.

"Is the cost clear?" murmured J-1.

"Hold on... yes," said J-5.

"Good." With that, J-1 dropped from the underside of the repulsorlift cart, rolling on to the regular ground and gasping in discomfort. "Remind me never to use that as our entry point again."

All along the supply line, the other agents undid their clips and dropped off the bottom of the suppy cartes, groaning quietly and staggering to their feet.

In the complete darkness, J-1 lowered his goggles and a night-vision option flicked on, bringing the world into a green hue. "We're in."