Chapter Four: Best Served Cold

Chapter Four

Best Served Cold

*Liberator fleet*

         The two ships slow into real-space again, the stars stopping their streaks across the viewscreen. Ahead of them, Liberator fleet awaited.

         “What the hell…?” Max queried, seeing the impressive collection of ships in front of them—not to mention the size of the flagship.

         “Settle down, Max. Looks like Striker got himself one of the new Mon Cals,” Sharliss offered.

         The com lit up. Max piped it into the interphone. “Please identify yourselves. This is a New Republic staging area.”

         It crackled once more as Mils answered. “Light transport Wreckless, um, reporting for duty.” The Banshee’s pilot added his identification. “Maximus Reams at the helm of the Banshee. Captain, Rebellion Special Forces.”

         “Affirmative, please follow the transmitted direction to the Hawkseye.”

         Mils led the way, Max slewing the heavy transport around to follow along the vector. A foreboding silence stifled the cockpit as they approached the landing bay.

*Hangar bay, MC-90 Hawkseye*

         Jets hissing, the Banshee comes to rest next to its companion.

         A blonde young man was waiting for them as they disembarked. He approached Mils, the first to step out of a ship. “Captain Art Farliner. You must be Mils?”

         “Must be. The others should be out soon.” On cue, the other ramp lowers. Max strides down first, donning his old demeanor as he sets foot on a friendly capital ship once more. Sharliss follows, eyeing Farliner as she steps down. Sia-Lan seems to hang back.

         “Captain Maximus Reams, Rebellion Special Forces. Where’s Striker?” A grunt escapes the big man, and Farliner thought he saw the woman elbow him. Then she spoke. “Sharliss Tal’Vissa. We got a message from…well, you must know already.”

         Farliner shifts his weight, nodding at the visitors. “Ah, good, we’ve been expecting you. I’m Captain Art Farliner, CO of the Wildcards.” A trace of a frown crosses his face as he locks eyes with the bigger man who acted like he owned Farliner’s flight deck. “Admiral Tercanic is waiting in his office.”

         “Thanks, Captain. Shall we, Captain?” The latter was aimed at Max, and Farliner wonders for a second what the emphasis was for as Sharliss responds. He catches a nod from the back as well. That man must be the Jedi I’d heard about. What in blazes could the Admiral want with this motley bunch?

         “Shall we secure the ship?” Excuse me? Reams had to be putting on some kind of act. Was he serious?

         Then, Farliner hears Sia-Lan speak for the first time. “I doubt that is necessary. Let us go.”

         Shaking his head, he motions behind him. “If you’ll just follow me…” he offers, turning to head deeper into the ship. Behind him he hears Sia-Lan’s voice once more. “Just remember, all, we are guests on the ship.” You got that right.

*Admiral’s chambers, MC-90 Hawkseye*

         “Admiral, your guests are here,” comes Farliner’s voice over Tierran’s office com. He glances at Felian and then nods, keying a response. “Send them in!”

         Max walks through the door moments later, “Striker!” He looks uncomfortable for a moment and salutes.

         Sia-Lan follows him in, with a rare smile. “It's nice to see you again, Admiral Tercanic.”

         “Love what you've done with the place, Striker,” Sharliss adds, taking a look around.

         Mils files in last, right behind Sharliss. “Aw, I wanted that line. Sir,” he nods to the Admiral.

         Striker is standing at his desk with a female captain, going over something. They both look over as the team enters; he has an amused expression on his face. “I really hate it when you do that Max. At ease.” The female captain turns around and leans against the desk, not saying anything.

         Max finishes the salute and nods at the stranger. “Ma'am.”

         Sharliss steps forward. “Congratulations on the victories, sir and, um, ma'am.”

         “Your message seemed...urgent, Striker. Problem?” Sia-Lan inquires, getting down to the point.

         A dark shadow passes momentarily over Striker's face. “Congratulations should go to everyone—not just me. I'm glad you answered my call. I didn't know if you'd come.”

         “We come under interesting circumstances, but we can cover that after our meeting,” Max responds, approaching the desk.

         Striker nods. “The Republic could use your special skills. And I think, once you hear why, you'll want to help.”

         Mils crashes into a chair next to the desk, and Sia-Lan and Sharliss walk up beside Max. “What's wrong?” Sharliss wants to know.

         “Shortly before I contacted you, my fleet was attacked in a diversion meant to delay us. The Imperials got what they wanted. And then decimated the rest of my fleet orbiting Thyferra.”

         Felian speaks up at this point. “Not to mention the Imperials shot up Thyferra pretty bad, too, for letting us come to visit.”

         Max nods, “They wanted the bacta...”

         Striker shakes his head, “They wanted to scare them and anyone else thinking of joining the Republic.”

         Sharliss blinks in surprise. “Did it work?”

         “Yes. It did.”

         Sharliss frowns, but stays silent.

         Tierran continued. “The reason I called you is because the only way to take down this particular faction of Imperials is going to take more than military might. And that's where you come in. And I thought you'd enjoy this, in a way.”

         Sia-Lan takes a deep breath, seeming to have made a decision. “What can we do? I'll help wherever we're needed.”

         “Moff Ixis Waugh of the Colondu sector runs the most organized Imperial sector at the moment. And our sources indicate he's doing a heck of a job keeping the Empire from completely imploding.”

         Sharliss blinks again, taken aback. “Moff Waugh.” Sia looks down trying his best to show no emotion.

         Striker nods. “Yes. And the Imperial fleet that hit mine was none other than Admiral Talon's fleet. And I suspect he hit the rest of the Colondu sector fleet, given the quick devastation.”

         Max growls, “It seems they have been busy. We had a little encounter with Talon at Concord Dawn a month ago.”

         Sharliss winces, “So you need someone to grab their attention for a while? Sia already started to...”

         Striker blinks and then shakes his head, “Really now? No, nothing like that. I don't want a diversion. Moff Waugh is a threat to the stability of the New Republic. Him and Talon need to be taken out.”

         There it was. The reason. Silenced prevailed for a brief moment before Max broke it. “I've been going over the details. We can't handle Waugh alone...”

         “There's no way we can take them on head on. I'd like to play their game. Now, before I tell you my plan, you should know that it's been described as completely crazy already, so you won't hurt my feelings if you feel the same way.”

         With a feral grin, Mils spoke up. “We wanted to try that back when he was hunting us.” The other three can’t help but grin and nod in agreement.

         “You might not be so excited after you hear it. Fact is, as strong as Waugh's sector is, they're still losing systems quickly in the Empire. They're hard up for people to man their ships.” Striker looks down at the desk for a minute, summoning the words. “They got us with an inside job. I want to turn the tables. I want you to work in the Colondu sector fleet as undercover operatives.”

         Sharliss’ jaw drops. “Undercov...for the guy who was hunting us for a year?”

         “A year? More like four,” Striker grins. “Like I said, they're desperate for people to man their ships. And the people hunting you aren't the people recruiting.”

         Sharliss snickers as she catches on. “Dodge the hunter by hiding in their own bureaucracy?”

         Striker chuckles. “Pretty much. And do you think they'd even think to look on their own ships for you?”

         Max grins almost gleefully, playing along. “This might just be crazy enough.”

         “Like you're hard to convince,” Mils says with the hint of a smile when a realization dawns on him. “Damn it, that means I have to be a slave the whole time.”

         The Admiral nods, “Indeed. And you'll want to ingratiate yourself to the Imperials. Once you've moved up a bit, you'll be in prime position to sabotage their fleet when we move in on them. Without the fleet, Waugh is helpless.” Striker shifts his gaze to Mils. “I'm serious when I say they're desperate. A little fur dye and you could sneak in.”

         Sharliss laughs at that, offering suggestions. “Deep blue! Neon green?”

         Striker smirks, but won’t be derailed. “And I hear with the Emperor gone, a lot of the Moffs have lightened up on the aliens in their sectors.”

         Sia-Lan nods, slowly at first. “For his piloting skills they'll be desperate. I'm sure we'll all be attractive to them!”

         Sharliss shifts her gaze back to Striker, suddenly serious. “But what if they ask us to do something, er, Imperial-ish like bomb Thyferra?” She pauses to think of the other possibilities. “Or attack the Republic?”

         “I didn't say this was going to be a fun assignment. We're going to be spending a lot of time engaging them in combat...so while you may face us, we're going to try and keep them busy enough that you don't have to worry much about that situation,” Striker says, not really answering the question. The unspoken words said enough.

         “All it would take it one person recognizing one of us,” Sharliss points out.

         “You're right. So I hope the cosmetics we set you up with do the trick.”

         Sharliss can’t resist, stifling a laugh. “Max wearing makeup.”

         Max grunts, obviously not finding the humor in it. “It's so they don't recognize us, Sharliss.”

         Striker surveys them for a moment, “So you'll do it?”

         Unsurprisingly, Max and Mils give their enthusiastic support for the plan. The other two hesitate, however. Sharliss looks uncertain. “I will, if, um, you let me join your side again first. I don't want any confusion as to my real job.”

         Striker blinks and nods. “Fel, draw up the papers please?” Felian nods silently and goes over to the cabinet to get the paperwork.

         Sia-Lan keeps his head bowed until everyone turns their eyes to him. He finally nods. “If you think that's the only way, but I think it's too dangerous, Striker.”

         Striker looks over at Sia-Lan, responding with, “When did I say it wasn't? This is what he did to us five years ago. This is our chance at a little revenge in the name of the New Republic.”

         The room is silent again suddenly as the team considers what they just agreed to do. Sharliss finally speaks up. “I can't believe we're really going to do this.”

         Striker turns around and pours several shots. “Completely crazy. It's a good thing I knew the people for the job. And for what it's worth, I think you can do it.” He offers the shots around. Max and Mils take one each and hold them up. Sharliss follows suit, muttering something. Sia shakes his head, then reaches out and takes one. Admiral Tercanic raises his in a toast. “May the Force and whatever else you depend on be with you. You're gonna need it.”

         As they all down their drinks, Felian caries a stack of papers over to Sharliss. “Sign these and you'll be re-enlisted at your previous pay.”

         Shaking her head, Sharliss follows directions. “I forgot about the paperwork.”

         Sia-Lan shakes his head once more, this time in disappointment. “Our previous pay; I guess that's why we're doing this.” He reaches down and signs on the line as well.

         Striker sets the glass down as the other two follow suit. “I think I should keep the Banshee here while you're on this job.”

         Mils looks crestfallen. “ I was looking forward to flying her for once, too.”

         “So where do we start, sir? I assume we'll be splitting up for this,” Sharliss ponders.

         “We're hoping you can manage to be assigned to the same place. Preferably the Vengeance.” He looks at Sia, “You can manage that?”

         “Looks like I'll have to. I suppose I have an advantage to keep from being seen, but that same advantage is that much more dangerous.”

         Sharliss nods and sums it up. “Join the Imperial Navy, stay undercover, get assigned to Talon's ship, find our way to trusted positions, think up ways to cripple her, and wait for the signal. Wait, what's the signal?”

         Striker chuckles. “In several months, we'll launch an attack. Trust me. You'll know it when it comes. When it does, we'll be launching transports to board the Star Destroyers. Anything else you need?”

         Sia-Lan shakes his head no. “I think our mission is understood. Will we be getting a briefing before we go?”

         “This is your briefing. There are only six people who know what you're doing, and they're all in this room.”

         Sharliss looks concerned. “Could use a refresher on Imperial recruitment, naval operations...quite a lot. How long until we should head out?”

         Striker grins slightly, “As soon as you can...and I'm sure Max knows all about recruitment.”

         “Hopefully we'll see you in a few months then. Admiral.” Max pops to attention, turns, and walks out.

         Sharliss can't help but grin despite herself. “Well, got a will to write. Admiral. Captain.”

         Mils perks up as he follows Sharliss out. “Maybe I can fly a Star Destroyer...”

         Sia stands in place for a few seconds as the others leave, and then looks up one last time. “I hope this works out like planned Striker. It could turn very ugly.” With that, he turns and starts walking out, but stops. “I trust that you'll hold onto this until I can come reclaim it? Doesn't seem safe to take aboard the Vengeance.” Sia pulls something off his belt, reaching out to hand Striker his lightsaber.

         Striker blinks, surprised. “Er, yes, of course. I didn't think you ever parted with it...wasn't my place to say anything.” He accepts it, placing it on the shelf with his other displayed trinkets as the Jedi walks out.

*Admiral’s chambers, MC-90 Hawkseye*

         “I don’t see how you trust them like you do,” comes the voice from behind him.

         Tierran turns around. “Fel, would I really put them on this mission if I didn’t trust them?”

         “Not saying you would,” Felian says with a frown, “I still don’t understand it. Reams switches loyalties at the drop of a hat. You have a Jedi who’s already once fallen to the Dark Side. I don’t know wher…”

         Tierran cuts her off by putting his hand up, “Hey, hey, c’mon now. Give me some credit? Listen, it’s me you’re talking to. I know this is still about Drevlin. It’s not their fault anymore than it’s my fault. We were all fooled. I gave them those missions from Waugh.”

         She sighs and looks down. “Is it this annoying when I’m the one who’s right?”

         Tierran shakes his head. “No, it’s really far more so. It happens more often.”

         Felian looks back at the notes that Tierran has on his desk. “So are you saying that even Admiral Ackbar doesn’t know about this little plan?”

         “He knows we’re up to something.” Tierran says as he sits down in one of the chairs, “But not what. No need to tell him and if I said it over the com, it could have been intercepted.”

         Felian sighs and nods, “Well, thanks for keeping me involved then. What are we going to do with that monstrosity on the flight deck? We don’t have the room to keep it here. And if it says, people will talk about it.”

*Dignitaries’ quarters, MC-90 Hawkseye*

         “I can’t believe we’re really going to do this,” Sharliss repeats.

         The section they’d been placed in was usually reserved for visiting dignitaries. The Hawkseye was a warship first and foremost, but as the flagship of the fleet it needed certain amenities. The room had gotten quite a workout in the last few months, but was empty tonight. Private rooms, a small conference area, and most importantly, a wet bar; for the important decisions.

         “No, really, I can’t believe…” she started again. They were all seated around the table, with everything they had cobbled together on Imperial operations so far collected in front of them. Datacubes and printouts sprawled across the table. They had a lot of work to do.

         “I think she’s in shock,” Mils said.

         “I know how to fix that.” Max lifted the bottle in the middle of the table and poured everyone a drink. Sharliss picked hers up, but didn’t pay it much attention.

         “Wasn’t this the kind of thing we stopped doing four years ago? Back when we agreed that if we kept doing it we’d end up dead?” she asked. Remembering, she turned on Sia-Lan. “Isn’t this the kind of thing you went into hiding to avoid? You didn’t say much up there with Striker.”

         Sia-Lan, who had been quiet up to this point, raised an eyebrow. “But obviously, that didn’t work. Did it?”

         “But this—“ Sharliss starts to protest.

         Max cuts her off. “I don’t see the problem. Talon’s been hounding us for years. He was already on Sia’s tail. What’s wrong with going after him for once?”

         Sharliss shakes her head. “You’re telling me you don’t see the inherent lunacy in dressing up as Imperials and trying to hide on a Star Destroyer for months?”

         “Maybe it’s not easy and risk-free like your little smuggling operation, but it’ll be a challenge.” Max shot back, calmly.

         “What’s that supposed to mean?”

         “It means,” Sia stepped in, “that it needs to be done, and we’d be better off working on how to do it. Instead of fighting each other over why.”

         “We’d already decided to do it, anyways. Striker just gave us an idea,” Max agreed.

         “We’d agreed to try, but you’d already figured we were out of our league,” Sharliss argued.

         Mils, to his credit, was trying to look absorbed in one of the printouts. He knew what fights to stay out of.

         “Do you always quit when things get too hard?” Max asked.

         “As opposed to trying to get myself killed like you seem to be so fond of?” came the counter; Sharliss was still holding the full drink.

         Max lifted his. “I seem to be just as alive as you.”

         “Despite your best efforts.”

         “So we should have left you on Star’s End?”

         “Are we going to figure out how to do this, or just snipe at each other all night?” Mils spoke up as he shook his head.

         Sharliss bit off her response as Mils broke in. Max looked away immediately, still not showing a hint of emotion, casually sipping his drink. He was baiting me, she realized, astonished. He knows how uneasy he makes me. But why? Regardless of the answer, the thought put Sharliss on guard. That happened to be exactly what Max had wanted; she can’t get this emotional if she expects this mission to succeed.

         “I don’t think Striker knows how to carry it off any more than we do,” Sharliss offered.

         “Then we’ll handle it,” Sia said, having watched the little exchange. “First we need to figure out how to get aboard the Vengeance.”

         “So just show up and ask for an interview?” Sharliss asked with a sarcastic shrug.

         “No, we need them to be begging for us when we show up,” Max responded in contemplation.

         Sia nodded. “Right, what is it they’re desperate for?”

         “Pilots. Mils, you know you’re the best one out there,” Sharliss shot back to a smirk from Mils.

         “Now we’re thinking. Max, as long as you get a good cover story, they’ll be dying for your repeater on their side.” Sia added.

         “Two down, two go,” Mils said. Everyone quieted down as they tried to figure out ideas for Sharliss and Sialan.

         “Well, they might be in need of a resident lightstick swinger,” Sharliss said with a wink.

         “With his trusty computer technician sidekick indeed.” Sia-Lan couldn’t help but laugh.

         “We need someone at the very top; we need to know what Talon is doing with his ship; not just what the underlings are doing,” Max thought out loud, still serious.

         Sia and Sharliss just looked at each other for a few seconds, but she was the first to speak. “I can’t do it Sia, and you know it. Can you handle it?”

         “Looks like I drew the short straw. Max is right; we need someone up there. Let’s find out if Talon has any openings, and I’ll see if I can fill them.” Sia had just a hint of disappointment to his response, but only the three people in that room could ever notice.

         Mils typed a quick message into a data terminal. “I just happen to have an old friend on Ord Mantell who might be able to get access to those parts of the Holonet.”

         “Well then, you’re the only one left, Shar,” Sia stated.

         Sharliss was thinking for a moment when Mils cut in. “Sharliss, what if you take a low profile job; something that no one will even notice you in…a maintenance technician or something. The rest of us will know the going on of the ship; you’ll be the one in charge on enacting whatever plans we come up with. We’ll pass off the equipment or information, and you’ll do the dirty work.”

         Her eyebrows shot up. “I like it. What do you think, guys?”

         Max was quick to respond. “I think we could set up some serious damage when the time comes.”

         “I think it might just be crazy enough to work.” Everyone laughed as they thought back to the good old days. “I need to go talk to Striker for a while. I won’t tell him our plans; it’s probably best. Let me know if you hear anything, Mils.”

         “Sure thing Sia,” Mils popped off.

         Sharliss was the only one to make anything of it; his last comment just seemed a bit out of place, but she more pressing issues on her mind.

*Dignitaries’ quarters, MC-90 Hawkseye*

         There was a light tap on the door as it started to open.

         “There you are Si…” Max cut himself off as he saw an unfamiliar figure in the door. The man had short, near-crew cut hair and was wearing naval casual dress.

         Max shot up as his temper did. “Excuse me, but these quarters are private. You’ll be on your way now!”

         “I’m sorry, but Admiral Tercanic asked me to stop by this room,” the figure responded as he peeked back at the room number and then at the other two individuals sitting at the table.

         “You’re mistaken, and this is your only warning,” Max shot back as he pulled his jacket aside to show the blaster that he was carrying.

         “Max, settle down!” Sharliss was quick to say as she stepped in front of him. “Sir, we are in the middle of a private meeting. Please tell Admiral Tercanic that he’ll have to call us before we’ll allow anyone to join us,” Sharliss said cautiously.

         “Of course, ma’am,” the individual said as he walked back out the door.

         The door hadn’t been shut five seconds when there came a knock.

         “Did you not—“ Max shouted as Sharliss cut him off and shoved her drink in his hand.

         “I got it, Max!” Sharliss interrupted as she walked towards the door to open it. Of course the same individual was standing there; just this time he had a small electronic bug in his hand.

         “These things are amazing,” Sia said with a smile.

         “Sia?!?” Max jolted up to match the new face with the old voice.

         “Striker’s crew knows what they’re doing. I knew if it fooled you, then I needn’t worry about Talon. This little bug on your chest completely changes your voice, and of course they do quite a gig with the makeup, but sounds like I’m stuck with this face for the next six months or so,” Sia said as he put the bug on in mid-sentence.

         “Looks like I got all worked up over nothing,” Max said as he shook his head with a smirk. I guess Shar isn’t the only one after all.

         “Got some good news, Sia. Listen to this. ‘The Vengeance, Imperial Star Destroyer under the command of Admiral Talon of the Colondu sector, is requesting an experienced Imperial officer to join its crew as a replacement staff operations officer.’ It’s like they’re playing right into our hand.” Mils smiled as he read off his terminal.

         “Excellent. Now how do I become an Imperial ops officer over night?” Sia asked.

         “Well, I got an acquaintance that can handle the paperwork, electronic and hard copy. Other than that, a crash course from Max will have to do.” Sharliss stated quite bluntly.

         “I don’t think the New Republic can handle paying off what we’ll need though,” Sia responded.

         “Sharliss and I can handle the creds; we somehow managed to save a little up these past few years.”

         “Excellent, back to broke and on the run,” Sharliss said with a smile.

         “I think we all need a little lesson on Imperial operations, so the floor is yours Max,” Sia said as he looked over at him.

         Max had managed a quick presentation while Sia was gone, so he threw it up on the holoprojector. “Let’s get this started then.”

{center]***

Continued in:

Chapter Five: A Better Mousetrap  (13+) Rome wasn't built in a day. #1367601 by Renfucious