Six Ways from Center.

[Pierce Tondry]

"Remember Alan. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a soldier who was good, and kind, and brave, because he fought for the Emperor against the Rebellion. Remember Alan..."

Pierce Tondry stepped down to the edge of the rooftop. The wind blew strongly, but not enough so he was in danger of falling. The mortar launcher in his left hand felt as numb as the pit of his stomach. The greatest risks were always like that.

The launcher in his hand seemed to lift of its' own volition, as though he, Pierce Tondry, were no longer the one in action. The Vice Director of Imperial Intelligence sighted down the barrel through the crosshairs to his target.

It was a small garrison that housed a quick-reaction force outside the capital city of Arcan IV.

His sources told him that various elements of the New Republic's more secretive departments were on the planet. If his plan worked, they would soon be meeting face to face, smoked out of hiding.

Remember Alan...

The emotions inside Pierce went even more cold, and his finger tightened on the trigger, but he did not fire. Damn that wasted death. It was no way for a soldier like him to die.

It was with great difficulty, but Pierce managed to shove his grandfather's words out of his mind. He had a mission to perform.

There was the thump of the release of compressed air, and an incendiary mortar sped across the distance between the launcher's mouth and the perimeter fence of the compound. The projectile impacted, blowing apart the fence and scattering plumes of smoke and gouts of flame.

'It's begun,' he thought to himself.

He slipped over the rooftop's edge and moved down to the alleyway beside the building. All that was left now was the waiting.

"Remember Alan"... alright, Ivan. I'm remembering.

[Pierce Tondry]

Ten minutes later, the previously quiet area had been occupied by police cars and repulsor jeeps. Forensic investigators were scattered everywhere, hunting for clues that suggested the night's events.

Not that Pierce had done anything to hide exactly what he'd been doing. Firing at the perimeter wall had one purpose: bring agents of the NR's secret services out of hiding.

Time dragged on, and Pierce watched from the concealed side of the window. An incident such as this one would attract attention from the important people soon enough.

As though some higher power knew his desires, a heavily armored van pulled up to the scene. Out of it stepped several armed and armored men who had no visible logo.

'You can take away the symbols, but you can't erase the bearing that marks the NRSF,' he thought.

Following the shock troops was a man in a suit. Scratch that, men in suits. The NRSF's local bureacracy that kept order and organization in their highly chaotic actions.

One of the suits carried a clipboard. Perfect.

Pierce counted out five minutes after they had fanned out across the scene. Then, he left the room and took the stairs to the outside without a second thought.

"Nothing over here," he stated seriously.

The trooper sergeant nearest him gave him a quick glance. Seeing the same suit and businesslike air that had marked the NRSF suits, he turned back to his squad and waved them off in a different direction.

Pierce continued over to the NRSF's armored van, which was unoccupied and alone. He withdrew a clipboard from inside his suit.

Rather than have a checklist of forensic materials and procedures, it had a message pieced together from local newsprint.

Hotel Attica. Room 351. 20:00. Now + 48 hrs. No more than 2 come.

Pierce's gloved right hand set the clipboard down in the van and walked off.

[Nathan West]

Nathan was ready throw the Vice Director of Arcan Intelligence's aide out the window.

"Why didn't you turn that city block upside-down?"

"Sir, the damage was only to a fence and..."

"And if it landed 30 meters farther, that Rapid Reaction Force would be a smouldering crater instead of twenty well trained local men."

West forced himself into his seat, and drummed his fingers rapidfire near the edge of the desk. He slowly took a deep breath, taking care to put his hands on the chair's armwrests while the aide stood silent. Actual soldiers and pilots made him nervous, much less the commandos that comrpised an NRSF unit. Most members of the units could have been labled insane. Right now, he wanted to shrink back into his comfortable office chair and unwravel local problems from the saftey of his four walls. He rocked slightly on his feet in the uncomfortable silence.

"Ok. All parties did a ****ty job with the investigation." The aide slowly nodded.

"You can sit if it makes you feel better." Somehow, he managed not to scramble for the chair.

"So what we really have is 'Hotel Attica. Room 351. 20:00. Now + 48 hrs. No more than 2 come,' right?"

"Yes."

"Right. So you've already spread agents into the area?"

"Yes."

"Peachy keen. Withdraw the ones in the Attica, and stay the frell off the third floor. I want no cleaning staff under our flag in that room. Whoever they are are far better than anyone we have planetside right now, and we don't have time to get someone with solid qualifications from NRI." The aide frowned.

"Well, about the appointment..."

"Is now soley the jurisdiction of the NRSF. We'll keep you informed."

[Nathan West]

Both Nathan and Jettik Arden were dressed in non-consipicous clothing, but to a trained eye, it was very obvious. The operative they were dealing with clearly had the eye. Each wore a thick yet cool, breathable jacket that was designed to whisk away some of the energy from a blaster shot. Better, it hid the NRSF’s compact rail gun, a nasty rapid fire weapon that held thirty metal slugs. Again, a giveaway to the trained eye. Arden was habitually chewing a straw that protruded out of the left of his mouth, leaning against the lift’s wall as it moseyed up to the third floor.

“Whats the plan?” Jettik asked, between chews.
“Well, we don’t really have one.”
“Really? Well, this is a new approach. Do we have any intelligence on this guy?”
Ding. Nathan shook his head as they exited the elevator.
“Only a vague description from the desk clerk. He checked in this morning nine-ish. Apparently in good shape, and something about ‘sharp eyes.’”
Jettik gave the straw a few more contemplative chews before speaking again.
“And is very good. Hence no briefing.” West kind of shrugged, glancing up at the room number to double check. “351” was written in neat gold letters. He checked his chrono: “19:59.” After a final shrug, he rapped on the door three times.

[Pierce Tondry]

The door opened, apparently of its' own accord. It was obviously a sign from the room's only occupant.

Pierce watched as the two NR representatives stepped slowly and cautiously into the room and into a small living room. They looked around, their hands cautiously close to the zippers on their jackets. They had to have concealed weapons on them- they wouldn't be NR if they didn't.

"That's far enough, thank you," Pierce told them.

Both agents stopped in their tracks, pausing in surprise and then scanning the room. "Nice to meet you," the one in the lead said. "Do you mind showing us who you are?"

"My identity for the moment must remain a secret," Pierce told them, very glad they couldn't see him. "There is very tight security around this operation, out of extreme necessity. Any information leaks could lead to the demise of myself and several of my men. In fact, I was supposed to be destroying one of your bases two systems over today. Fortunately, I arranged for a replacement."

The two agents froze again, and Pierce laughed. "Settle down," he laughed. "I've given orders that it not happen. You'll find that the base will suffer a lot of superficial damage, but very little actual damage. It amounts to a shakeup, nothing more."

Pierce shifted his mortar launcher in his hands. "Another reason I cannot reveal my identity is because if you knew who I was, you would be inclined to refuse my request out of habit alone."

"Request?" The second person was the speaker.

"That's right," Pierce said simply. "I would like to request admission to the New Republic for myself and whomever in my organization desires it."

[Nathan West]

Uh huh.

The end of the mortar launcher's barrel glinted slightly.Mortar Launcher. Rare, expensive compact explosive launchers that excelled at blowing people, places and things up. There were only three per NRSF infantry unit, and were simply unseen amoung any others, except for some of NRI's more exotic equipment. There were two Outer Rim mercenary units that were suspected to posses one.

He was too proffesional for Outer Rim, nor would they stage an attack on a New Republic base.

This left pretty much one likely option: Imperial. Perhaps an elite Stormtrooper unit, or another unit with access to such rare tools.

West had been expecting to get shot at: instead, he had a very skilled person, perhaps people, who wanted to defect to the NR. He felt more than a smidgen out of place, but Arden simply continued to chew his straw thoughtfully through the growing silence.

His jaws stopped, the straw shifted, and he spoke.
"Well. We certainly do seem to have a bit of a puzzle on our hands. You want to join the New Republic, but we can't have a name. So, what do you suppose we do?"

[Pierce Tondry]

"I already have that covered," Pierce waved the question aside with a slight motion of the mortar launcher. "Due to the nature of my rank, I can't defect for some time. There's a great many people coming with me. I may end up simply taking over the organization and working out a merger with your own forces. It all depends on how well we cooperate."

"It seems like we're placing a lot of trust in a complete stranger," the second person said again. The leader made a hushing motion, but the other person continued anyway. "So far, you haven't given us anything concrete. Why should we believe a word you say?"

Pierce said nothing, choosing to stare at the man who had spoken instead. After a few seconds, the other person cleared their throat nervously and Pierce knew his psychological trick had succeeded.

He picked up a small sheet of paper from the nightstand next to him and scanned it. "Let's see... scrambled Hawkbat eggs, five strips of bacon (one discarded), Guaria juice, and a citros snow cake. So how was that breakfast, Mr. Arden? Taste good?"

The straw stopped in mid-chew. "I hope so," Pierce continued. "Because I watched you eat it, and if I watched you eat it, I could have poisoned it. Simple as that. I have been spying on you for ninety percent of the morning, gentlemen. At any point during that time, I could have killed you, but I didn't. Instead, I played the role of bodyguard. Your lives were in my hands and I kept them safe. It was, admittedly, a very small role."

"I propose that the role be reversed," Pierce continued. "I have several men whose lives are in imminent danger. They have been ordered to make an infiltration of the New Republic's main base on the planet of Chandrila in a week's time. They are fully cognizant of the risks the mission entails, and they know they are being asked to commit suicide. They don't like that, and are willing to cooperate with the authorities of that base if they can be spared."

"So we just take them into custody?" It was the first man, Nathan West again.

"No," Pierce shook his head. "It has to look like an attack went down or there will be problems on my end. I propose that you spend the next week preparing to stage the damage that my agents will pretend to inflict before being "suppressed". All the agents need to be smuggled away under the cover of their own deaths, so make it look good."

Pierce lowered the mortar launcher's muzzle and set the list down. Now was the time for trust. "Any questions?"

[Nathan West]

"No. Be careful, stranger."

West turned on his heel and left, Arden following closely behind. The wheels in his head were whirring at speeds of about R-17. This whole thing was going to be tricky, especially with his lack of overal clout in the regular NR military. If he couldn't get the needed authorizations the whole thing would die in the water. And likely would the men he had just been charged with keeping alive.

The big trick was avioding red tape and documentaion. Documentation would doom it.

It was time to talk to someone who could get this done.

[Nathan West]

Nathan stood inside General Jyanis Scorpion's office. It was a far more comfortable affair than what any NRSF officer had, and more spacious. Tohmahawk had always prefered to spend all of the money where it counted: on training and equipment. There were rumors of complaint from the General in regards to his office, but it was also rumored he decided to just accept it so he could get his job done more easily.

Jyanis wasn't human, but it was doubtful anyone in the New Republic held that against him. Skill was vauled here if you were short, tall, green, red, insectiod, reptilian, blue, or even stinky. Although the stinky were a bit harder to tolerate.

His gaze swung to the walls. A recent painting of a gathered New Republic fleet poised above a calm blue gas giant adorned one wall, while real time charts and maps adorned another one. In front of his desk, a high precision holoprojector. Of course, they were only displaying publicly known positions of ships. About half the fleet was missing.

"Tell Captain Dresari to double check the aft power generators on the Nightwatch. The last thing we want is to provide her with extra cover again. I don't expect to be as lucky with that as we were last time."

West stood at attention, facing the door.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Jyanis planted his right hand on the arm of his chair and raised himself upright to stand behind his desk, which, like his office, he didn't approve of. In his mind he felt like he had to walk to the other end of the room to open another drawer. Much too big.

Nathan West stood in front of him. He knew the man more through reports than in person, but enough to address him as a friend, especially since he knew he was trustworthy.

"Do you like it?"

Nathan wasn't sure what the alien was referring to, and furrowed his brow slightly.

"The painting over there. I hate it myself. It's unrealistic. If we're ever that mobilized it sure isn't as calm and beautiful scene as depicted."

He grinned, "Now, Mr. West, what have you come to speak with me about?"

[Nathan West]

"One moment Sir." Nathan fumbled around the General's desk for a moment. The electronic scrambler came online, and hopefully anyone monitoring the converation would get an earful of static.

"Its a bit strange. An Imperial of some sort, a very good Imperial has a few men on a suicide mission to the Chandrila base. Basically, he wants them to live and dissapear. But we have to fake the whole bussiness. The Wolves need free run of the base for four days."

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Jyanis inclined his head, quite curious, with several questions.

"Can you tell me any more about this Imperial? Are you talking about the entire 128th? How do you plan to go about your business and not arouse any suspicions?"

[Nathan West]

"All fourteen of us, yes. As for the Imperial, no sir, afraid I can't. You'll have to take my word on this one."

Harkathawi Bay New Republic Base, Chandrilla:

Using the excuse of a faulty and potentially dangerous power reactor, the Lone Wolves had managed free reign of pretty much the whole place. Of course, the trick hadn't been that tricky. They just borrowed Morgan Evanar for twelve hours, most of it in transport.

The first day had been figuring out the details of the base, taking stuff appart, referencing everything with blueprints, and having meetings every four hours to see where everyone was. The next morning was Olaf giving very thorough instructions, with pointers from Evanar here and there. West saw clearly why James had wanted the man as an espionage instructor: he had solid knowlege of how most things worked, and thorough knowledge of security systems. Between Loaf and Morgan, the base would certainly appear to fall apart quite nicely.

Day two was the busy day: setting things up to explode, break, make noise, not make noise, fizz, pop, or do nothing. Because of the "danger" the reactor presented, they managed to pretty much keep encounters to a minimum.

At the end of third day, around eight, they declared their work done, and bussiness as normal resumed at Harkathawi Bay.

Day four, they "monitored" the reactor and waited.

[Pierce Tondry]

"They've been inactive for about twelve hours now, General."

Pierce looked up from where he was oiling his blaster rifle. It wasn't nearly as good as his custom sniper rifle for long range attacks, but for firefights it served adequately. He could have easily shot the fellow whose head had just poked into the doorway.

Most of the time, Tau Team was usually calm before a mission. They all had the experience of five veteran commandos, each of them pressed into situations that sustained the failing Imperial Intelligence that could easily have dwarfed them in their immensity. Twelve of the men with him had seen more action in twenty years than some army grunts and ship captains would ever see.

The other twelve men along on this ride were veterans of a different sort from Vector Team. Each of them had been somehow affected by Ysanne Isard's treacherous nature. Some had lost partners to firing squads that shouldn't have been put together. Others had been sent on missions of such complexity and risk that the partners they had grown to know and respect over time had never returned, lost as casualties of treachery of a different sort.

That same kind of treachery reared its' ugly head today. Ysanne Isard could not handle the loose cannons she had created, and so she would destroy them in service to her cause.

Suicide service.

Today Tau Team was subdued and a member short of the usual thirteen. Derf Kohel, a Tau member with a bulge in his stomach who was such a good information ferret that he could walk into a crowd at a party and walk out ten minutes later with the names and interests of every person there. Give him twenty minutes and he'd have invitations to dinner for half of them. Give him thirty and Derf would have sack mates for each night of the next week.

But now, no one could give Derf any more time for those things. He had been tortured and murdered by Ysanne Isard in one of her petty displays of power.

That had finally jolted Pierce into full action. He now knew that Ysanne Isard had no intentions of holding true to the Empire he had once served- she wanted just to create her own Empire on the broken bodies of whoever she could coerce. That could not happen, and Pierce would fight it wherever he could.

And the men caught in the middle, being ground up against the New Republic, would instead find freedom under a regime that would hopefully be as tolerant of them as Pierce had been.

Twelve of them, those twelve Vector Team members, would lay the foundation.

"Form them," Pierce ordered. "I'll be out in a second." Then he went back to his oiling.

There were rumors that had reached Pierce's ears, rumors that his own pre-mission ritual of cleaning and examining his weapon had been adopted by other agents as a superstitious way of enhancing their own marksmanship. For Pierce, it was a practical matter of checking over the weapon he intended to use, but other people had begun emulating it out of respect. And part of the process was being thorough.

With a final dip into the oil can, Pierce's rag finished it's work with a swipe on the muzzle of the barrel. Then Pierce set the can and rag aside and went to join his men.

Vector Team was all dressed in standard black commando armor, while the Taus were dressed in simple everyday gear. Each of them saluted when Pierce walked in, and it reinforced his belief that he was doing the right thing.

"You all have your orders," Pierce began. "Taus- stand watch in case something goes wrong. Vectors- I'll escort you personally to the perimeter. You will penetrate the compound as pre-planned. When you are 'subdued' chew your capsules. They each have enough depressant in them to keep you comatose for three days- enough time for the Republic to spirit you away somewhere under cover of performing autopsies."

"Permission to ask a question, sir?"

Pierce nodded an acknowledgement. "Granted."

"The capsules don't taste like beer, do they sir? Because that would be really great of you, if they did."

Pierce chuckled slightly while his commado teams laughed loud and hard. Relieving some of the tension. "That's right, son," he confirmed. "The capsules taste like beer, there are five suns on Tatooine, and your mother was the famed triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six."

His comment got more laughter, which Pierce allowed to run its' course. "Gentlemen, we've reached the point where we've got to act. There's no more words to say, no more plans to work up, no more supplies to gather; nothing is left to but to go out there and make good what we said we would do. I wish you luck, and... I'll... see you on the other side in a month or so."

The last words were the hardest for Pierce. He had believed so strongly in the law and order of the Empire's governance, and life had plucked that belief out of the soil where it lay to let it wither and die. Reflected in the eyes, if not the faces, of each of the warriors there, was sympathy, understanding, resolve, and respect for the sacrifice Pierce had made in giving it up. They stood stock still, giving him the moment of perfection Pierce had encouraged their whole military lives, while he composed himself internally.

"This is the best I've ever seen you apes," he said finally. "You would have been honored five times over by now if the Empire had survived instead of the Rebellion. I'm..." Pierce's shoulders dipped as he began his last sentence, but then he squared his shoulders and became the hardened General once again. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, men. Honestly sorry that that witch Isard couldn't stop ruining lives long enough to work with us to restore something great. Maybe we'll manage it from inside the Republic."

With that, he saluted them. They returned the gesture.

"All right," he said, gesturing to the door of the transport they were in. "Let's move out."

[Nathan West]

West crouched down behind the sturdy bulkhead beside Olaf.

"How much longer do we have?" Nathan consulted his wrist chrono.

"Ten minutes. Stage the leak at zero. If they want to have a firefight, hide. A stun blast might kill 'em. If they force the issue... hit feet."

The commander stood back up.

"Alright. Everyone, you know the plan. We're down to the final nine minutes. Status?"

-

Imperial Intelligence forces made their entrance at one minute, incapacitating the guard and then slicing the code for the lock.

-

The Lone Wolves donned gas masks, crouched, pulled grating.

Somewhere in the active sector of the base, an alarm klaxon sounded.

"Imperial intruders have entered the base. This is not a drill. All personel to emergency stations. Repeat: Imperial intruders have entered the base. All personel to emergency stations."

-
At zero, the Imperial passed checkpoint one running at a full clip. Arden waited.

"Check two, they're clear."
Arden manually overrode the door controls at point one, sealing the sturdy blast doors shut from his

"Check three, they're inbound."
Olaf began the reactor simulation.

"They're hitting the reactor!" West screamed into the public comlink, trying his best to sound paniced and terrified out of his mind. He tossed it onto the floor and shot it with the underslung blaster.

A hissing noise permeated the sealed off sector. Hopefully the Imps would be cooperative.