CHAPTER ONE: The rusty battered frame of a Corellian CR-90 corvette streaked across the ebony and pearl starfield, a swarm of three Imperial TIE Defenders hot on its exhaust burners. As the boxy frame of the small frigate gunned its engines toward the bright red star of Sullust, the advanced Imperial starfighters poured down blaster fire onto its deflector screens, the resulting explosions illuminating the ebony field of space in bright but fleeting flashes.
Ranna Argus, captain of the imperiled BOREALIS, muttered an unintelligible curse under his breath. "Link up with one of our communications satellites and try to get in contact with Sullust Base," he ordered, turning his dull silver eyes toward the communication officer’s station. Argus was scarcely middle-aged and grey before his years, his youth absorbed by years of battle, struggle and loss. He raised a heavy hand toward his brow, brushing down the ruffled pelt which made a mask pattern across his eyes. As he did so, the deck lurched beneath him as a blaster bolt detonated at the front of the ship. "And do your best to get those damned TIEs off our back!"
“I’ve got no power on guns one and two, sir,” an officer shouted, much younger than the veteran Argus; much to young to be facing death. “The gyros on three and four are jammed!”
“Punch the engines up to one-hundred MGLT.”
That order brought a protest from the pilot. “But, sir, we could blow out the ion turbines!”
The turbines wouldn’t be of much use if those starfighters destroyed the BOREALIS before it reached its destination. “Blow them out, then!” The captain shouted, furrowing his thick eyebrows in dismay. The situation was only becoming bleaker by the minute and Ranna was beginning to realize that the chances of his ship surviving the duration of its mission were quickly evaporating.
As if responding to the corvette’s defiant burst of speed, the pursuing TIE Defenders sprayed a volley of concentrated fire at the deflector screens that shielded the BOREALIS’ ion thrusters. The ship suddenly staggered and warning alarms went off as the starfield in the forward viewing port began to spin.
"They've punched through our rear deflector screens, sir!" The officer in the tactical pit yelled, grabbing hold of one of his consoles to keep his balance. " I'm reading failures on ion engines four and six."
The pilot ran her hands furiously over the controls in an attempt to right the ship and compensate for the lost engines. Though she was able to stop the BOREALIS’ spin, the loss of engine thrust was permanent.
"Switch all remaining batteries to cover our hind-side!" Argus barked, intent on preserving what engine power he had left. It was at that moment that the captain knew that the BOREALIS was not going to make it home.
"Sir,” the officer in the communications pit called, shaking the captain out of his momentary silence. “I’ve got the sat-link.”
Ranna looked up and nodded toward the officer. A tall man in rolling brown robes and topped with fiery red hair appeared through the holo-link at the center of the bridge. Though viewed through a distorted image, it was clear that the man on the other end of the connection was at least a decade Argus’ junior, but wore the distinguished rank of general on his garments.
Kithain Tiharr narrowed his eyes and considered Captain Argus, small ripples of golden-colored fur forming under his steady gaze. His voice was deep and booming, reminiscent of the growl of a lion. "What is it, Argus?"
“General Tiharr," the captain took a breath, a look of pain on his face. "We weren't able to retrieve any bacta supplies from Thyferra. We've got a squadron of those new Defender TIEs on our tail—" his sentence was cut short by a thundering explosion which sent the tossed several bridge officers to the deck. Argus was nearly thrown clear of his seat, but managed to grip the armrest as the rest of the ship jostled around him. When the ship settled, the acrid smell of burnt carboplas filled the air and the captain had to cough to clear his lungs. “—they’ve all but taken out our shields and have no doubt sent back coordinates to the Empire telling them where we are."
Again the ship rocked, a metallic thud echoing through its superstructure. For a moment after the bridge fell silent and some of the officers exchanged weary glances. As suddenly as the silence had descended, it shattered in a deafening concussion, an explosion caused by a missile that had embedded itself in the heart of the corvette.
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General Kithain Tiharr and his aides stood around the holoprojector, stunned to silence. The hologram of their comrade on the BOREALIS was quickly beginning to fade. Something devastating had just happened out there in space, like a gong signaling the doom of their fellow freedom fighters.
The transmission flickered and garbled, images of snowy phantoms danced through the holofield as piercing white noise blared from the speakers. None dared take a breath in the long seconds that followed, everyone’s eyes transfixed on the amorphous holotransmission.
And then, as if rising up from ocean waters for air, the captain’s voice cut through the noise. Though the sound of his voice was a reassurance, his tone displayed unmistakable melancholy, one which told of bad news even before he finished the first word. “There’s no hope for us.” The words dropped like stones, burying the hopes anyone had of the BOREALIS making it back in one piece. “We—we’ll do what we can to lead the Imperials away from the—“
A sudden a loud and low pitch boom sounded through the transmission a split second before the link terminated. Tiharr and his aides looked up expectantly at the communication’s controller. Though she looked stricken, the woman immediately began to turn the knobs and dials at her station in an effort to reestablish contact. "Sullust Base to BOREALIS," she called, masking the worry from her voice. The transmitter responded with idle static, the outskirts of a communication signal partially blocked by an unknown force. “BOREALIS come in, we’re losing your signa—“
Again Argus’ voice rose from the ocean of static, the hologram of his form re-appeared, but distorted beyond recognition. There was an urgency in his voice as he called through the interference. “ Star destroyers—!” The signal dropped and cranked, “—ten—jamming signal—“ Finally the transmission died, Argus’ anxious calls replaced by a high-pitch electronic whine, an unmistakable sign of an Imperial jamming device.
The communications officer immediately slapped a control at her station, disengaging the link, and the officers huddled around the holotransmitter lowered their hands from their ears. General Tiharr separated from the group, the very picture of authority, and stalked over to one of the nearby astrogation stations. It was attended by a quirky looking droid lieutenant, engrossed enough in plotting the course of the BOREALIS on a sheet of crystalplas that he did not detect the general’s approach.
"Use the satellite network to triangulate exactly where that transmission originated."
The droid spun around, startled as Kithain spoke. “ Wah! Oh—what? I mean—uh—yes, yes sir. Right away sir. My apologies, you startled—“
Kithain tapped the crystalplas for emphasis, giving the droid a hard look. The lieutenant immediately turned around and ran a trajectory calculation for the BOREALIS. After a moment, he spoke under his breath. “Oh dear . . .” He motioned to the transparent map and turned around. “Too close, the Imperial must have dropped out of hyperspace just beyond the edge of the system. There is no way we can stay here long without them finding us."
Kithain sighed and made a grim nod. "How much time?"
The droid turned aside and considered the question on his internal computer. "They'll have to search the system thoroughly . . . so I'd estimate three hours at the most."
A hard looked settled in Kithain's eyes. " Dammit," he growled and turned a heavy gaze toward his second in command. "I'm going to have a word with Professor Sunrider. Begin preparations to evacuate the base."
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Far removed from the turbid affairs of the Dark Empire or the Rebellion in that distant galaxy, the smoothly curved frame of the Federation starship USS FELIX floated gracefully through the twinkling void of space. The pearl-studded starscape glittered peacefully in the distance as the great vessel raced by, the sapphire glow of its ring-shaped warp nacelle, reflecting lazily off of the smooth surface of its glistening metallic hull.
Captain Marc Shamus Xavier, the young captain of this newly launched starship, watched ebony canvas of stars pass by his ready room window and considered a few green and brown planets in the distance, touched by the indigo blaze of their native sun.
At the age of twenty-eight, Xavier held the title as the youngest captain serving in the Federation’s starship, a distinction that had earned him both admiration and disdain. Graced with a handsome head of ebon hair, a coffee colored pelt and a pair of rich brown eyes—almost black in their hue—the captain looked every bit his age. In most any other situation, the captain could have been described as most handsome and carefree, but the expression on his face told that he was not the latter. He ran a hand through his hair and his fox-like ears drooped momentarily as he considered something. "Computer, begin log."
"Logs accessed," the computer reported with its usual lack of intonation.
Xavier sighed and looked down at his desk for a moment in a brief train of thought. "Captain's Log," he started; captain’s log, he still wasn’t used to that. "Marc Shamus Xavier of the USS FELIX; stardate 49126.4. We’ve just been released from Starbase 211 after completing a two-week shore leave. I had to call in a few favors back home to get it done, but, I’ve finally managed to get us an assignment in deep space. Rumsfield’s not happy about it, I’m sure, but this should go a long way to getting the ‘hawks’ off of my back. They didn’t design the FELIX for cargo transport or trade inspections; she was born and bred to operate on the frontier. The crew’s happy enough, to be sure, but we barely just arrived in this sector and already they’ve turned me onto this idea of testing out the experimental transwarp drive system we got at 211." Xavier paused and smiled inwardly. "Although it’s not a part of our mission profile, I think tinkering with some new technology will be a welcome change from making starmaps or cataloguing nebulae. If all goes as planned, our impromptu test run will take us on a direct course to Gamma Hydra—near the Rihannsu Neutral Zone. Now, I have to admit, I find the idea of traveling across the Federation in a few hours to be pretty exciting, but I’ve got my doubts." Xavier paused to think if he had anything else to note, decided he didn't and ordered the computer to stop the recording. "End Log."
The computer beeped in acknowledgement and Xavier sighed. After a moment he sat up and picked up one of the report PADDs from of his desk. So far the mapping of the System IJ-224, tentatively named “Imatia,” had been relatively boring. Truth be told, the captain reviled stellar research and cartography, but it was the only deep space mission he was able to get out of StarFleet command. "Totally life-barren star system containing a class A gas giant, two class C reducing worlds and a class Y radiation hazard . . ." Marc tossed the PADD aside, wishing earnestly for a stray crewman to pin his paperwork on. He stood and stepped over to the food replicator. "Tea; hot please."
"Please specify type of tea and exact desired temperature."
Marc blinked at the machine, he hadn’t programmed it yet. "About, say, thirty-seven-point-four degrees Celsius."
"Would you prefer green tea, ginseng tea, earl gre—?"
"Lipton; just tea, thank you.” For all the artificial intelligent knowledge StarFleet put into it’s starship computers, there were times when the things could be just plain annoying.
After a moment, the replicator chimed softly and complied with Marc’s request, promptly producing a cup of tea for the snarky young captain. Xavier nodded in appreciation and took his drink back to his seat.
Since taking command of the FELIX, Marc really hadn’t had the time for the finer things like programming his replicator or decorating his office. As he looked around, it struck him that his ready room was rather barren; save for a picture of a blond, peach-furred feline he had put up on the far wall.
StarFleet Command had been keeping a close eye on Captain Marc Xavier and his newly christened FELIX since they reluctantly agreed to give him the command nearly a year before. Despite the ship's mission profile as an “enhanced deterrence explorer”—StarFleet’s latest euphemism for a front line battleship—a vocal minority of the higher-ups had been doing their best to keep the FELIX's untested crew, and more importantly, her untested captain, well within arms reach, believing it foolish to put a man not even thirty out in charge of something as expensive and as deadly as a starship. As such, the farthest out before this mission the FELIX had ever been sent was Antares.
Despite his outstanding service record, Marc had seen more than his fair share of dismissals and brush-offs, being once called by a grey-haired admiral a "wide eyed saucy brat, still wet behind his ears" to his face. Others in Command had gone as far as to openly embarrass him on his own bridge, in front of his crew. But Xavier had endured, using every available resource and pulling every string he could to finally get beyond the restrictive clutches of StarFleet’s endless bureaucracies, which had landed him and the FELIX in a mostly unexplored and undeveloped region of space on the frontier called the Hayen Corridor.
The captain, however, had quickly found his new freedom to be overrated. Almost every planet in this area of space was devoid of life or anything interesting, and the FELIX’s sole official assignment had been to better map the area. Marc quickly became bored with the notion, and had authorized two of his officers to play around with the transwarp drive that had been installed at the FELIX’s last stay at starbase. Perhaps something more interesting than discovering a new class of asteroid would happen.
As the captain quietly sipped his tea, his attention returned to the barren walls around him. “Maybe I should get a poster or something . . .”
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Ysanne Lisard, director of the shadowy Intelligence Sector of the Dark Empire, peered through the wide panoramic windows of the Executor-class Super Star Destroyer INTIMIDATOR toward the edge of the Sullust System. She had been less than pleased with being assigned to the termination of Kithain Tiharr and his local band of insurrectionists, but it had been by the order of no less than the Emperor himself that she see to the task personally. Tiharr had been one of the major influences in the embarrassing loss at Yavin, and the Emperor had made it clear that no less than the rebel general’s expedient termination would please him.
Lisard's yellow eyes searched about the bridge, noting the actions of several of the officers in the scanning computer pit. She turned slightly and one of the eight long flaps of scaly green skin on her head—the closest thing she had to hair—slid slightly out of place. The director straightened her maroon uniform and took a seat in the command chair.
After the destruction of the rebel corvette under the command of the traitor Ranna Argus, Lisard ordered the prompt release of probe droids all over the surrounding area. So far, the only signs of Rebel infestation in the system were a few abandoned communications satellites, which did little more than confuse and mislead the sensor crews. But the very presence of the satellites only served to galvanize Lisard's convictions; the Rebels were here and it would only be a matter of time before she tracked them down . . .
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The hellfire world of Sullust was a planet covered in meteor craters, volcanoes and lava flows. The geothermal energy of the small red world served as a natural power plant, making it ideal for the experiments of Professor Arthur Sunrider and his team of scientists.
Situated as a series of buildings carved into the rock face of an extinct volcano, the Rebel outpost called Sullust Base looked out upon the horizon to an ocean of lava that covered the planet as far as the eye could see. Had it been a hundred years before, huge black reptilian birds would have filled the sky, migrating with the oven seasons from the north pole of the planet to the south.
Now Sullust was simply a dead world; its inhabitants exterminated by the agents of the Empire many years ago. Nothing more than a molten, lifeless rock in space with little value or natural resources, Sullust had proven to be the ideal choice for the freedom fighters to construct a base.
General Tiharr watched the commotion in silence as his men disassembled most of the valuable equipment from the Sullust installation. They pushed about anti-gravity lifts, ferrying what they could to the launch bays. Since the destruction of the frigate he served on at Endor, the general had not dealt with such a rushed evacuation, but the Imperials were virtually knocking at his front door. The situation unnerved him, but his face showed no sign of it, years of command in a force which was losing the galactic civil war had taught him the value of giving the appearance of complete confidence despite dire circumstances.
"Colonel, what's the status of the Imperial fleet?" Kithain asked, turning to his executive officer, a canine by the name of Rieekan.
"Uncertain at best; they’re systematically destroying our satellite network, but the radiation from the Sullust star is likely playing hell with their scanners. I’d estimate we have about an hour left, at most."
Kithain nodded. "What of the evacuation?"
"We've got all non-essential personnel and equipment on the transports. They’re clear to leave as soon as you give the command."
Kithain nodded and stepped up to a communications terminal. With a swipe of his paw he switched on a microphone. “Attention, this is General Kithain Tiharr. All EVAC ships are clear to leave the system on the far side of the planet. We will reconvene at the predetermined meeting place. I repeat, all EVAC ships are cleared to leave." He switched the terminal again, “YT13, do not launch yet. I’ve got men on their way with equipment; hold until they arrive.”
The colonel snapped into action, herding the men toward the door. “All right everybody. Let's go! Let's go! Move it, party's over!” The officers quickly scattered out of the control room, filing through the exits and toward the launch bays.
style='mso-spacerun:yes'>Once the last of the men had left the command area, Kithain turned his attention to some readouts on the screen in front of him. But when Rieekan did not leave, he turned to look up at him. "Well?" he asked, "You'd better catch one of those transports and get yourself out of this hellhole."
Canid shook his head. "I'm staying."
Kithain opened his mouth to protest but Rieekan beat him to it.
"No good officer abandons his commander in a time of crisis."
Tiharr brushed back a tuft of his scarlet hair and narrowed his eyes at Rieekan. "Unless you’re planning on ending up dead, I suggest you catch that ride out of here. It might be your last."
"No," the colonel said firmly. "If the Imps arrive here before the experiment is competed, you're going to need help getting those chipheads off this planet alive. You and I both know my life isn't nearly as important as the lives of Professor Sunrider and his team."
Kithain glared at him for a moment, searching Rieekan's eyes; he had already lost enough good people today. But he could tell from the colonel’s expression that he wouldn’t have left even if he ordered him to, so he sighed and conceded. "All right, follow me." The two exited the command station and made their way down to the bunker where Professor Arthur Sunrider and his colleagues were hurriedly putting the final touches on their experiment.
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In the heart of the volcano, where General Tiharr’s men had constructed their makeshift base, sat the most massive piece of machinery that Kithain’s group of Rebels had been capable of constructing. Spanning the entire volcano shaft and suspended a few hundred feet above the sea of molten rock sat Sullust Base’s primary geothermal reactor; a gigantic heat absorbing contraption designed to convert the thermal energy of Sullust’s brewing core into usable electrical power.
The shaft was filled with the putrid and deadly gasses bubbling up from pockets deep within the planet’s mantle, and the reactor itself was only accessible by two sealed tunnels, allowing officers to make routine maintenances of it’s inner workings, and for a select few authorized persons to access a special compartment on top of it; the lab of Professor Arthur Sunrider.
The large metallic doors to the laboratory opened with a groan and the two Rebel officers strode in. Inside, mice in lab coats with large round black glasses were swarming about a series of control booths. Sunrider and his associates looked up at the visitors. "Ah, General Kithain, Colonel Rieekan," Arthur greeted, as if oblivious to the dire situation outside the laboratory. "We were expecting your arriv—"
"Blast with the pleasantries, Arthur!" Tiharr cut short, "Are we ready? We've got less than no time to test this equipment and destroy it."
Arthur was taken aback by the General’s bluntness. He nodded slowly, his large ears drooping slightly. "Yes, sir, we're ready."
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As the captain stepped out onto the bridge, the quiet humming and beeping of the computer systems in the chamber greeted him. There was something hypnotic about the sounds of the bridge, a kind of quiet power and familiarity that gave the captain a sense of grounding.
The colors of the bridge were dark tan, more in the tradition of the Galaxy-class starships than of the later, more metallic models like the Intrepid-class. In the center of the bridge, there were two command chairs, one for the captain and the other for first officer. The lower front of the bridge was reserved for a long tapering console that connected the Ops and Helm stations. Directly above and behind the command area stood a guardrail and a station for the tactical officer; science stations flanked either side of the upper bridge area, with the rear wall occupied with the doors to the conference room.
Upon seeing him, Commander Romeo Weiss, Xavier's first officer, vacated his seat and allowed the captain to take his place in command. A brown puffin with tan hair and a dull orange beak, the commander looked at least two decades Xavier’s senior. He had been appointed as the executive officer aboard the FELIX for little more than to watch over the young captain and make sure he did not get himself into trouble. Weiss had considered the job to be little more than babysitting duty, and to a point detested serving aboard the FELIX. He also held a token of envy toward Xavier, who had been able to surpass him in rank in half the time, but his professionalism prevented him from expressing these emotions in all but the most trying situations.
Lieutenant Tigris, charged with the technical engineering aspects of the FELIX’s operation, was short, lithe and young, only a year older than Xavier. She had snow-colored fur with stripes of black that lined her body from the soft ridges on her forward to the tip of her tail. It was plain to see that she beheld some Klingon blood in her veins. Strands of thick cocoa-colored hair drifted loosely about her head and came to rest at about the level of her lower jawbone. Marc tossed a quick glance at her as he sat in his chair.
"Transwarp coils are online and at optimal efficiency." Lanna nodded, turning around again to face one of the science stations. Her dark eyes scanned along the energy matrices and charts on the panel in front of her. "We're ready to emit the cochrane pulse."
Xavier turned his attention to the main viewer. Finally, things were about to get interesting. "Lieutenant Hare," he called, addressing the operations officer. "Make it happen . . ."
Outside, the FELIX's deflector dish began to glow from its usual blue to a bright blinding white. Out of the center of the glare, a particle beam reached out into the depths of space and exploded in a flash of swirling pearl.
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One of Sunrider’s assistants, Isao Aduki, looked over the readouts at his computer. "Initiating trioculus particle transfer." As he spoke, the small point of light at the center of the testing area began to radiate a bright blue haze. Everyone in the room had donned protective glasses to shield their eyes from the ultraviolet radiation that tiny star-like phenomenon threw off.
As the scientist pressed the button to initiate the second particle transfer, a flash of red lightning leapt out and licked its fiery tendrils toward the observers. A horrible screeching noise like the call of a falcon echoed through the laboratory, so loud that everyone had to cover their ears.
"Something's wrong!" Sunrider yelled, instinctively backing away from the console, " It's overloading—I—I can't shut it down!"
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"Captain!" Lanna Tigris called as the deck of the FELIX began to rumble, "T—the cochrane pulse is destabilizing!"
The Ops officer, a blue-furred cottontail named Cyber Hare, scrutinized the readouts on her console with her silver eyes. " This doesn't make any sense . . ." she faltered, genuinely perplexed by what she read on her display. ". . . it looks like another particle beam is intersecting with our own . . ."
"Intersecting?" Commander Weiss stood up and approached the Ops station. "Where is it coming from?"
"I can't pinpoint the source," she snapped as her fingers raced across the controls. "It's being generated on a different state of quantum flux than our own . . . it's definitely not coming from this quantum reality . . ."
Selune Pardek, the tactical officer, shook her head disapprovingly at the report the computer was giving her. Her massive wings folded beneath her arms, stretching at the specially cut uniform she wore to accommodate her unusual physiology. Her peach colored pelt contrasted with the drab brown goggles which she wore over her eyes, designed to protect them from the blaze of the bridge lights. Her particular subspecies, more akin to bats than anything else, was much more suited to the nocturnal light intensities found on Vulcan. For her, a standard-spectrum light was as uncomfortable to look into as Sol at mid-day during the summer seasons on Earth.
When she spoke, her voice beheld a calm that only a Vulcan could maintain in a situation like this. “Sir, the other particle beam is creating a feedback loop in our cochrane pulse. It is beginning to resonate with the magnetic constrictors on our antimatter pods—we are losing containment . . ."
Xavier’s reaction was not nearly so composed. “Shut it off!”
"Aye sir!" Lanna said, promptly ordering the computer to disengage the pulse. She paused a moment to look over the sensor readouts. "Antimatter pod containment returning to normal, but the other particle beam is destabilizing the local subspace layer. . ."
The turbolift doors opened and Elizabeth Denver, the FELIX’s counselor, stepped out. “What’s going on?”
Ensign Sarah Felstrom worked her hand at the helm. "We're entering a gravimetric shear . . . hold on!" She grabbed the side of the console to steady herself and the deck shuddered with a loud crashing noise, pitching most of the bridge crew to the floor. But Elizabeth went flying and hit the deck with a thud; she rolled down the steps of the bridge and smacked her head against the back of the Ops station.
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"We need to get out of here," Sunrider said. The furious red lightning was still flinging out rays of wild energy in all directions, the tendrils reaching out further by the moment. "The energy from that reaction is going to tear the reactor apart . . ."
Canid glanced at Kithain, who only returned with a quizzical blink.
Sunrider shook his head at the red haired general, "Well—" he groaned. "You wanted it destroyed before the Imperials got here—" There was a small explosion and sparks scattered in the air. "—and that's what you'll get—and a whole lot more—if we don't leave now."
General Tiharr nodded and started toward the door. "All right everyone. Come on, leave it."
With that, the crew dashed out of the laboratory area and down the hall. Whatever was happening in the testing area was beginning to interfere with the geothermal balance that powered the base and the long dead volcano that Sullust Base was built on was writhing its way back to life. The ground was starting to shake as the earth began to split, spewing red-hot magma into the base chambers. The group rushed out of the collapsing adjacent corridor; there was fire everywhere and smoke and the stale smell of basalt and sulfur were beginning to rise from the quickly heating floor.
The docking bay was aflame with abandoned supplies and the air so saturated with the smell of burning carboplas and tar that it was almost impossible to breathe. There was already a river of lava flowing across the far deck; its molten redness only mere feet away from the ship that hopefully was going to take these remaining Rebels to safety. They hurriedly dashed into the belly of the ship and Kithain hopped into the pilot's seat as rocks began to rain down from the ceiling.
As the Rebel transport shuttle quickly lifted off the ground, shot out of the bay and into the cloudy red sky of Sullust, Sunrider and his associates kept their attention on the quickly receding outline of the doomed base. It wasn't until they'd exited the local gravity well and had made the jump to hyperspace that anyone dared to breathe a sigh of relief.
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"We have entered orbit of Sullust," Admiral Zinc said, bowing slightly to Director Lisard. He was a plump fellow, a warthog with a distinctive mustache that twirled in a style comically similar to the Red Baron. "I have just received word that a DEATH STAR has also arrived on the edge of the system. They will be in range of the Rebel base in forty minutes."
"Excellent," Ysanne Lisard said, a dark smile crossing her scaly face. "All in a days—"
"Admiral!" An officer interrupted, "I'm detecting a huge power surge on the planet surface. It may be some kind of weapon, I'm not sure . . ."
"Angle our deflector screens to full forward capacity," Zinc snapped.
"We have incoming!" The officer said. "Some kind of energy distortion . . . it's heading straight for us!"
"Evasive action!" Lisard yelled. No sooner did she give the order than the immense frame of the star destroyer began a steep dive in an attempt to dodge the energy anomaly quickly rising from the planet’s surface. It had left the Rebel base of Sullust in twisted molten ruin and now it whizzed by with incredible force, missing the hull of the INTIMIDATOR by mere meters and continuing on a path straight toward the approaching DEATH STAR.
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Aboard the battlestation, Grand Moff Tarvik's widened his eyes at the sight of what looked like an unusually bright star heading straight for his space station. "Is that a weapon?" he asked.
"Unknown," an officer replied. "Some kind of odd energy distortion."
"All forward deflector screens to maximum," he ordered, not taking any risks. "This is Tarvik to all personnel, brace for—" But before Tarvik could finish his sentence, the small point of light exploded into a huge purple and red cloud that completely engulfed the DEATH STAR.
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Captain Xavier looked up from the floor as Romeo Weiss, who had been clinging to the back of Cyber’s station for balance, helped Lizzy to her feet. His instinct was to make sure Elizabeth was all right, but his duty was first to his ship, and his first officer had beat him to her. " Report," he snapped.
"There's a rift forming just above the subspace plane," Lieutenant Commander Hare said.
"How?" Weiss asked.
"I'm not sure . . . " Lanna said, "It just . . ."
"Captain!" Selune Pardek called, her tone was urgent, but still maintained an odd calm, "Something is emerging . . ."
As the bridge crew watched in shocked silence, a large silhouetted sphere appeared from the strange purple-red haze, eclipsing the brilliance of the anomaly.
> Weiss gaped at the scene. "It's . . . some kind of moon," he breathed.
> Awestruck, Lanna Tigris gave her report. "That's no moon, sir," she dissented, glancing at her readouts. "According to the readings I'm getting . . . that's a space station . . ."
>