PART I
"How old are you?"
"I'm 19," Jace said, with some apprehension. The man was asking too many questions—his name, his homeworld, his last ports of call. Rebels were supposed to be discreet, or so Jace had supposed. He hadn't met many of them, of course, despite his best efforts to do so. The Rebellion was elusive, and it covered its tracks well. Perhaps that's what the questions were all about, he assured himself. This man must have simply wanted to be sure that Jace wasn't an Imperial spy.
Jace had been told, a week ago on Commenor, to expect his contact in this cantina, on this day, at this time. The man who had approached him at the bar certainly looked the part of a Rebel; he was dressed in nondescript spacer's clothing and sported defiantly long and dirty hair. Seated beside Jace at the counter, he had ordered a Munto Light—a beer that was brewed on Commenor—raised his glass to Jace, and said conversationally, "How was your flight?" That must have been the signal, Jace decided. The man introduced himself as Jenth, and in the privacy of a booth in the corner of the cantina, they discussed business.
"Kind of young for a freighter pilot," Jenth said, dubiously. Jace shrugged, and so did Jenth. "So," he went on, "What do you have for us?"
"Munitions, mostly," Jace said, lowering his voice as he noticed a man and a woman seated at a table nearby who had looked in his direction several times. Each time he glanced at them, they looked away. Each of them had a drink on the table that they hadn't touched, and they seemed to be having only occasional conversation. Jace suspected the worst of them. Imperials. "I was told it's for a raid on a mine," he continued, "But that's all I know."
"A borium mine," Jenth nodded, "We're planning to hit it tonight. We thought you might not make it," he added, "You're a day late."
"The Empire was searching ships at Woostri," he said, apologetically, "Looking for me, maybe. I'm not sure. I made it out all right, though, and just in time by the sound of things."
"Yes," Jenth said, darkly, "Just in time."
His tone of voice was odd, but Jace didn't dwell on it. He was more concerned with the man and woman who, once again, had glanced in their direction. "I take it they aren't friends of yours?" Jace said, motioning to them with his eyes, "They seem more interested in us than each other, or their drinks."
Jenth glanced at them and frowned. He looked uncomfortable, and one of his hands disappeared beneath the table—to a blaster, Jace assumed. "No," he agreed, absently, "Probably Imperials. We should probably take this somewhere more discreet. Follow me, kid, and look sharp." He stood first, and, as instructed, Jace followed him away from the booth and toward the door. As he did, he got a better look at the two Imperials. The man looked to be about 30, with dark hair cut short in typical military fashion. The woman was closer to Jace's age, surprisingly. She had a simple beauty about her, with long, brown hair that fell in curls about her shoulders. It was too bad she fought for the other side, Jace thought to himself.
Both of them stood from their table as he and Jenth passed near it. The man took a sudden step in their direction, and Jace noticed almost too late that his hand was gripping a blaster pistol at his hip. Then the confusion began. Jenth suddenly took off at a sprint, and the man's hand pulled his pistol free of its holster. But Jace was faster—his own blaster pistol was barely in his grasp when he pulled the trigger twice, from the hip. The sound of the weapon thundered in his ears. He'd never shot anyone before.
And in that moment, the front door of the cantina burst open and the distinctive white armor of Imperial stormtroopers could be seen swarming inside. The next few moments were a blur of tables, chairs, broken glass and blaster bolts. Jace found himself on the floor, and somehow through the shuffling of feet he saw Jenth toward the back of the cantina, looking back into the room with concern on his rugged face before disappearing through what appeared to be a side entrance. Jace half crawled, half ran to the door, trying to stay beneath the red blaster bolts that zoomed over his head. Then, fresh Contruum air as he escaped through the door and into the narrow alley outside.
No good. Jenth was there, a few paces ahead of him. But so were a trio of stormtroopers at the entrance to the alley, blocking their escape to the street. "Drop your weapon," one of the stormtroopers said to him in a filtered monotone. He looked at Jenth, who appeared to be unarmed. Had he given up so easily? What happened to his blaster? "Do what he says, kid," Jenth called out to him. It appeared that Jace didn't have much choice in the matter. He held out his pistol and prepared to drop it to the duracrete...
And the side door behind him slammed open. Jace whirled around in time to see the woman from inside roll into the alley and behind a dumpster with impressive dexterity. The man appeared a moment later, using the open door as cover. Both of them had blaster pistols, and fired them without mercy—at the stormtroopers. Jace turned around again in time to see the white armored soldiers rattle off a couple of shots before all three of them were down. His legs refused to move, and he froze in the crossfire as some of the shots missed him by mere centimeters.
"Pash!" Jace heard the woman's voice behind him, "Hit Jenth with a stun shot, quick!"
Jace snapped out of his paralysis and gripped the pistol tightly in his hand, turning around once again to face the attackers—just in time for the woman's fist to connect with his stomach. He bent over as the air fled from his lungs, dropping his blaster as he did so. Then her elbow connected hard with his back, and he sprawled flat on the duracrete, coughing fitfully. His eyes watered but, as he rolled onto one side, he managed to see Jenth felled by a stun blast. Then the man ran down the alley to his body and searched his pockets.
"All right," the woman said, placing her boot on Jace's shoulder and using it to nudge him onto his back as she stood over him, holding both her own blaster and his. "Here's how it is," she said, sounding agitated, "Jenth is the spy, not us. We're your contact, so we'd appreciate it if you kindly didn't shoot us, understood?"
The ache all over Jace's body, especially his stomach, gave him plenty of reason to be doubtful. "Why should I believe you?" he said, forcing himself to breathe deeply and regain his composure (to the extent one could regain one's composure while lying on the ground at the point of a gun).
"You're a piece of work, you know that?" the woman said, "You need proof, look at Pash," she nodded toward the man who was approaching them, holding a small metal device he'd lifted from Jenth's body. "See any family resemblance there?" she asked. Then, Jace spotted it. He looked just like a young Airen Cracken, the notorious Rebel colonel and hero of Contruum. Pash. Yes, Pash Cracken. It was Airen's son. It's a good thing Jace's aim had been bad, back in the cantina. "I found it," he said to the woman, holding up the metal device, "A homing beacon, as you suspected. Jenth must have used it to call the stormtroopers."
Of course, Jace realized as he recalled the last few moments in his mind. Jenth had reached beneath the table the moment he'd seen the two Rebels. The stormtroopers burst into the cantina a moment later, and Jenth made a break for the door to get out of the crossfire. "He didn't seem like an Imperial," Jace murmured, somewhat embarassed with himself.
"He's not," Pash said, stuffing the homing beacon into his pocket and, along with the woman, helping Jace to his feet, "He's an information broker on the Imperial payroll. They hire him to get to our agents and lead them into ambushes like this one. Speaking of which," he gestured for them to follow as he started to make his way at a trot down the alley, "We took care of all the stormtroopers, but there are going to be more of them here soon. Real soon."
"What do we do?" Jace asked.
"We get to your ship," the woman said, "While Pash finds himself a landspeeder and drives Jenth and his homing beacon across town. The Imperials will follow it instead of us. It'll give us enough time to move your ship before they lock it down. Good luck, Pash!" she said to Cracken as they left the alley. He smiled at her and nodded to Jace, then stooped down to pick up Jenth's body. The woman didn't wait around, grabbing Jace's arm and tugging him down the sidewalk in the direction of the spaceport. "Sorry I knocked the wind of you," she said. "You were trigger happy back there."
"Yeah," he winced, "Sorry about that. It's a good thing I didn't shoot Pash."
"You did shoot him, actually," she corrected him, "But it's not serious, he'll be fine. What's your name?"
"Uh, Jace," he said, "Jace Varitek. And yours?"
"I'm Sena."
