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    THE BLACK FLEET CRISIS #3 - TYRANTS_TEST

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    And for that, he needed information.

      After stopping at the port office to authorize Starway Services to move

      Mud Slotb to their work bay,

      Luke returned to the skiff. Locking the entry not only against strangers but against Akanah as well, he settled

      at the flight console and began making queries.

      A connection to Utharis GridLink gave him ac-cess-at a refreshingly

      reasonable price--to both New Republic Prime and Coruscant Global

      archives, as well as to the back numbers of several smaller

      newsgrids.

      But the most complete information Luke found came from two local

      services, Eye-On-U and Taldaak Today! The Coruscant-based grids were

      obsessed with Imperial City politics and offered only a cursory--and

      frequently mis-leading-overview of the military aspects of the

      crisis.

      "Access Fleet Watch," Luke said. The newspacket of the Alliance

      Veterans Victory Association, Fleet Watch was usually current enough

      and comprehensive enough that many senior staff members at Fleet HQ

      kept it on their browse lists as a supplement to official sources.

      "Requested source is temporarily unavailable," the comm pad reported.

      "Why?"

      "Access has been voluntarily suspended by the provider. Message

      available."

      "Let's hear it."

      The recording contained a familiar face and voice--that of Brigadier

      Bren Derlin, NRDF, Ret. Der-lin and Luke had been thrown together on

      Hoth, where Derlin had been one of the field commanders at the Rebels'

      base. Derlin was more of a steadying influence than a leader, but he

      was a good soldier and a quiet but likable man. Luke had not seen him

      again until war's end, and since then only once, at the ceremonies when

      more than a hundred Hoth survivors gathered to dedicate a memorial to

      the many more who had fallen there.

      Now Derlin was commander of the AVVA, an organization with the status

      of a retirees' club but the ambition to be something more akin to a

      militia or the Fleet's ready reserve. The recording began with a

      spiral of unit insignias surrounding the AVVA logo, and a smart salute

      from a uniformed Derlin.

      "Thank you for your inquiry. Due to the current military situation,

      the AVVA board of governors has placed the membership on a status two

      alert. For security reasons, access to past and current volumes of

      Fleet Watch has been restricted to members only. Please join us in

      supporting the soldiers and pilots who are even now risking their lives

      to guard our freedom."

      "How long has that lockout been in effect?" Luke asked the comm pad.

      "Nine days."

      "I wonder what happened to bring that on," Luke said, scratching his

      head. "What else do you have?

      Show me a list."

      After another half hour, Luke had satisfied himself that he had all the

      information he was likely to garner from public news sources.

      Unfortunately, it was not enough to settle his mind.

      He was more reluctant to contact Coruscant directly than he had been

      the last time he needed information.

      If a contact watch had been set up for his authorization codes, even

      querying the impersonal, automated sources might throw him into the

      middle of a conversation he didn't want to have--with Ackbar, or

      Behn-Kihl-Nahm, or Han, or possibly even Leia herself.

      For the question gnawing at Luke was not whether Leia wanted his help,

      but whether she needed it. If his presence might mean the difference

      between triumph and defeat, then he would go to her--as she had come to

      him in his darkest moment, aboard the clone Emperor's flagship.

      Leia had pulled him back from the precipice of the dark power, and

      joined her power to his to defeat Palpatine. If she had not been

      willing to sacrifice herself and the child inside her in confronting

      the reborn Emperor, Luke would never have broken the grip of the dark

      side--and the history of the intervening years would have been written

      with the pen of tyranny. He could not have done it alone.

      But having seen not only the great strength in her heart but also the

      Jedi power she could summon, Luke was all the more loath to volunteer

      himself as a rescuer.

      He knew that Leia had within her extraordinary resources of will and

      power--resources she had of late become reluctant to draw upon. Luke

      thought that he was much of the reason, with both his example and his

      presence creating disincentives. It was important that she find that

      strength again.

      It seemed to Luke that Leia had neglected, even abandoned, her own

      training, and that her training of the children had become unbalanced,

      with the disciplines of warrior and weapon excised as if they were

      dispensable. Luke had not spoken of it with her, but from what he had

      seen, it was almost as though Leia hoped to delay, training the

      children as Jedi clerics rather than as Jedi Knights--as if the path

      before her, the path he had followed, promised to take her somewhere

      she did not want to go.

      It was her choice to make. Her destiny was no more clear to him than

      it was to her. But whatever that destiny was, it seemed that she was

      fighting it rather than following it.

      And it was certain she would learn nothing from an errant Knight's

      well-intentioned but unnecessary res-cue--if she would even allow it to

      happen. Knowing her streak of aristocratic, self-reliant pride, Luke

      was not at all confident he could count on her to ask for help, even if

      she needed it--not after the fight they had had the night he left

      Coruscant.

      No, those around her, the others who loved her, would urge Luke to

      return to her side, no matter what the circumstances. And Leia herself

      would insist that he stay away, no matter what the circumstances. It

      was essential that Luke make his own assessment of the situation, that

      the decision be his alone. And it was better that Luke stay out of

      sight and out of reach until the decision was made.

      Ackbar, especially, would never understand, Luke thought in passing.

      He's as devoted to her as a good father to a beloved child--I wonder

      how clearly she sees it.

      Still, he needed more information--information that could only come

      from Coruscant. He began by retrieving his registered hypercomm

      messages from the master archive maintained by the Communications

      Office.

      As a hedge against the vagaries of hyperspace transmission, the archive

      kept a copy of every registered-recipient message sent out over the New

      Republic system. Undeliverable messages were held until their intended

      recipients requested an update--something most people did routinely

      every time they emerged from hyperspace.

      But save for those few hours while outbound from Teyr, Luke had been

      off the system since leaving Yavin 4.

      The update took nearly twenty minutes to spill into Mud Slotb's comm

      bank. As always, there were hundreds of blind messages--love letters

      and propositions, requests for personal favors, questions from amateur

      and would-be Jedi, the occasional diatribe from an Imperialist

      stubbornly resisting the i
    dea that his world had changed.

      Luke almost never looked at any of it. The novelty value of blatant

      proposals had long ago faded, and the one-two punch of praise and

      begging had worn thin even faster--it was as uncomfortable as being

      surrounded by a crowd in which everyone wanted to touch him.

      The priority queue contained a copy of the message from Streen, which

      Luke realized he had never viewed and released, and a second message

      from him time-stamped a day later. But there were no other messages

      from the twenty or so senders on his priority list--and that was

      something of a surprise. By and large, he had not announced his

      hermitage to his friends, so he could only suppose that the word had

      spread from the few who did know of his self-imposed isolation.

      "Show me number one," said Luke.

      Streen's face appeared. "Master Luke," he said,

      bowing his head slightly. "I received your latest instructions for Artoo and

      Threepio.

      But I regret to say that so far, I've been unable to deliver them.

      Perhaps it slipped your mind that the droids are now with Lando

      Calris-sian?

      I'll try to locate them and forward your message to "Lando," Luke said,

      shaking his head in surprise.

      "What would the droids be doing with him? Show me number two."

      Streen's face shifted to the right, and his caftan changed from

      goldenrod to rus. "Master Luke," he said, bowing his head once more.

      "I've tried to contact Lando Calrissian by every means available to me,

      without any success. I not only can't get a message through, I can't

      find anyone who'll admit to knowing where he or the droids are. It's

      possible that they're simply in hyperspace somewhere, but I'm guessing

      that there's more to this, and you probably know more about it than I

      do.

      I'm afraid you'd better see to this on your own."

      The combination of the two messages left Luke mystified, but he did not

      devote much time or energy to penetrating the mystery. Apparently

      Lando had absconded with the tWo droids, probably in furtherance of

      some scheme--any deeper understanding would have to wait. The droids'

      errand had become moot, in any case.

      If Luke went on with Akanah, he would have all the answers he needed in

      just a few days.

      Luke considered the long list of sources he had tapped the last time,

      but none seemed promising enough to justify the time and trouble. What

      he really wanted most was something he had tried for before and been

      denied--the Fleet Office's daily tactical briefing memorandum.

      But to get one, he would have to find a military-grade secure-link

      hypercomm. Or--"Access Fleet Almanac," he said.

      "Ready."

      "Reference current location."

      "Referencing Taldaak Station, Utharis."

      "Identify the nearest Fleet asset in this sector--training center,

      repair yard, supply base, whatever."

      'This access requires a current level blue authorization code."

      Luke rattled off his code. "Now give me some good news."

      The only New Republic Defense Fleet installation on Utharis was a tiny

      listening post. The listening post consisted of a three-man office in

      Taldaak, a four-man maintenance crew flying a work skipboat based at

      the planet's main geosynchronous station, and a pair of complex antenna

      arrays located in hundred-year solar-polar orbits.

      The highest-ranking officer on orbit was a senior specialistdirtside,

      it was a green lieutenant in the first month of a yearlong rotation.

      The operational continuity of the post came largely from the three

      civilian employees, all Utharis natives.

      It was one of those civilians who Luke encountered first when he

      entered the security foyer of the listening post's small silo-dome,

      located adjacent to an abandoned Imperial fighter base, now home only

      to wild jack-a-dale and black-winged touret. Luke had dressed to the

      Jedi stereotype, black cape and dangling light-saber, and allowed the

      Li Storm disguise to dissolve as he passed through the concussion

      hatch.

      "I am here to see the post commander," Luke said, resting his palm on

      the scanner.

      The young woman looked up at him with eyes widened by surprise. Her

      tattooed forehead and cheeks marked her as a follower of the Duality, a

      popular and benign Tarrack cult founded on the tWin principles of joy

      and service. She looked down at the scanner when it beeped at her,

      then back up to Luke's face wearing a look of awe on her own.

      "You are him," she said.

      Luke flashed a small smile as he lifted his hand from the scanner.

      "But I am not here," he said.

      "I understand."

      "Who is the duty officer?"

      "Tomathy--Senior Specialist Manes. Lieutenant Ekand comes on in two

      hours. But I can call him in early--" "There's no need," said Luke.

      "I will speak with Manes. Clear me through, please."

      "Yes, of course."

      The secure room of the installation accounted for the rest of the

      volume of the silo--a floor full of instrument stations, a domed

      ceiling fifteen meters overhead, and two rings of catwalks spaced

      between to give access to the transceiver arrays.

      "I'll be right down," called a voice from above.

      That was followed by the brisk clatter of shoes descending metal-mesh

      stairs.

      While waiting, Luke sized up the installation. The first thing that

      struck his eye was that the data system used three black-bodied memory

      droids for storage.

      That meant that everything of value, staff and secure data, could be

      removed from the post in a matter of minutes in a six-place speeder or

      orbital jumper.

      "My goodness," Manes said, his steps slowing as he reached the main

      level and saw Luke clearly. "My goodness. This is an honor." As an

      afterthought, he gathered himself for a salute. "Forgive me, sir--I

      don't know your proper rank--" "I no longer hold one," said Luke,

      leaning over one of the data stations.

      "Oh--I see. Then I'll confess that I've never met a Jedi. Nothing

      unusual there, I guess--I don't know anyone who has. Is there a proper

      form of address--" "You can call me Luke."

      "Of course. Thank you." Manes shook his head.

      "Forgive me for staring. I'm on my second tour here, and in all that

      time you're only the second person to come through that door who didn't

      work here. And to have it be you--" As though suddenly aware of his

      flustered babbling, Manes cut himself off. "How can I help you,

      Luke?"

      "I need a copy of the current tactical briefing memorandum."

      "Of course. You can use the comm pad at my station"right over here--"

      "I need you to retrieve it for me," Luke said. "I'm here on a

      sensitive matter, and I can't have my location revealed."

      "Got it," said Manes. "No problem. We get the teebeam twice a day.

      I'll bring the latest one up for you."

      "I need a copy I can take with me." As he spoke, Luke reached out with

      the Force and gave the senior specialist a gentle nudge.

      Manes stared blankly for just a moment. "What am I thinking," he

      said.

     
    "You'll want a copy you can take with you. I'll get a datacard."

      "Thank you."

      Less than five minutes later, Li Stonn was climbing into his rented

      speeder, the datacard securely tucked away. But he did not immediately

      drive away. Sitting at the controls, Luke reached out into the

      listening post and found its two occupants excitedly discussing their

      surprise visitor.

      The event had given both such inexplicable pleasure that he hated to

      take those memories away from them, but he had no choice. He had

      already blocked the machine records of his visit from being written to

      the logs. Compressing a nerve here, a blood vessel there, Luke brought

      on a moment of unconscious paralysis, and in that moment swept the

      memories from their minds.

      Akanah had not yet returned to the skiff, nor had the 'service depot's

      tow dolly come to claim it. Taking advantage of the privacy, Luke

      locked himself inside while he reviewed the information on the

      datacard.

      The situation in Koornacht Cluster had escalated to a high level of

      precariousness. New Republic forces had clashed with a Yevethan fleet

      at Doornik 319 while trying to enforce a blockade, and dozens of Fleet

     


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