TIE Fighter: Prime Wing

by Jennifer Quail

Disclaimers, acknowledgments, etc. are all back in chapter one in case anyone cares.

Chapter Five

Thelea did not enjoy seeing anyone, even a rebel, tortured. It seemed like such an inelegant way to extract information. She had always wondered why they didn't simply have the good sense to kill themselves when escape was impossible and capture was imminent. It wasn't as if they weren't going to die anyway. All TIE pilots, indeed, all Imperial soldiers, had standing orders that death was always preferable to surrender.

She looked at the young rebel pilot. Getting into the cell in the first place had required a great deal of bargaining and finally outright bribery, but instinct had driven her to speak with their prisoner. He seemed to be bearing up better than a few she'd seen, but underneath the resolute exterior, she could almost smell his fear. It was one of those little abilities that, more often than not, proved very useful. "You know where they're taking you, don't you?" she asked. "They're taking you to Lord Vader. He's going to torture you. Then he's going to kill you."

The pilot's face twisted in a combination of pain, disgust, and the faint remains of defiance. "Swell. I'll give him your regards."

"Don't do me any favors," she said coolly. "Listen, rebel, you admitted you had orders to 'be careful' about which TIE fighters you destroyed. Which one were you supposed to look out for? Who was supposed to escape?" There was a long silence, the rebel glaring at her and she meeting his gaze evenly. He didn't blink; she allowed herself a grudging admiration. Most Imperials couldn't manage that trick. "Tell me now and I'll see you get a quick, relatively painless disintegration here, instead of letting Vader choke it out of you."

"Yeah, sure," the rebel coughed, but she saw in his e yes he wanted to believe her. "I'm warmed by your concern for my welfare."

"Don't be," she snapped, though she recognized the sarcasm. She knew full well she'd never keep him away from Vader. "This is self-interest. Whoever that person is, they're endangering my life. I want him stopped."

"Rot in hell," he spat, the effort causing a spasm of pain to arch his body grotesquely.

Thelea ground her teeth, the frustration rising like bile in her throat. She became aware, as she did, of an equally potent anger in the cell, anger and a deep fear, centered in the rebel pilot. The sensations were difficult to grasp, but now that she could sense him, she tried to focus. Even as her frustration was replaced by determination, the sensation faded. Damn, she cursed to herself, how in all the worlds can I read him? Then a thought occurred to her. If the abilities only manifested themselves when she was angry or frustrated, then logically, if she made herself feel those emotions, the abilities should come back. Gritting her teeth, she concentrated on how irritated and antagonizing talking with the rebel was. Slowly, the sensations returned, increased, and suddenly, to her own surprise, her mind was touching the mind of the pilot. It was a frightening sensation, so vivid she almost jumped away from him. This wasn't like looking through someone's eyes, just borrowing an optic nerve by slipping in on a random emotion. Instead of mere impression, she sensed actual thoughts, almost words in her mind. She realized that she could search and sort these thoughts, too. The more she focused, the more she drew upon her frustration and anger, the clearer the images became.

There it was. "A transponder?" she said, not really aware her lips were moving. "Masked?"

"Don't know how..." he sounded as though he were asleep. She didn't know if he was really slipping away or if it was an effect of the contact between minds. "Just told...it would be there."

"On whose?" she demanded.

"I don't know..." The voice was barely a rasp. She searched a few more memories; blundered, really. She did not know how to refine these skills, and had no idea whether she was doing any permanent damage. It did get her an answer, even if it wasn't the answer she preferred. He was telling the truth. He didn't know. But at least she knew what to look for.

Letting out a breath she hadn't know she was holding, she felt the connection slip away as her anger drained from her. "I hope you don't suffer too much," she said, and turned on her heel, exiting the cell without looking back. Let him get away from Vader? No one dared to cross the dark lord, especially not a lowly TIE pilot. They'd come for him soon enough. She had what she needed. At least, she had a place to start.

***

Rurik looked down from the gantry. "Commander, with all due respect--"

"I don't expect you to understand, Lieutenant," she cut him off, slipping along the access walks around the cockpit of Giriad's Interceptor. "Just humor me."

"I really wish that you would tell me what you're looking for," Rurik said, watching with his arms crossed.

"I'll know when I find it." She edged around the fighter's viewports, examining even the lining of the plastiglass. So far, she hadn't found anything that even remotely resembled a transmitter or anything like that. She'd already checked L'Grath's fighter and found nothing. The same had gone for Rurik's, but she wasn't about to tell him she still didn't trust him entirely. Now, as she studied the underside of the left wing strut, she said, "So far, I haven't. I'm beginning to wonder if I haven't imagined this whole thing."

"I could help you if I knew what you wanted," Rurik offered, not moving.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said dryly, "but the only reason I'm letting you stand there is I like talking to someone besides myself. When I want help, I'll ask for it." Just then, her fingers passed over an irregular spot on the strut. "Hold on." She crouched lower. "Toss me that glowrod."

For a minute, Rurik just shook his head. Then he picked up the rod and dropped it at the edge of the gantry. Thelea looked up at him, glowing eyes narrowed in disgust. He crossed his arms across his chest, raised an eyebrow. Sighing disgustedly, she straightened and reached for the rod. "Thank you ever so much, Lieutenant."

"Glad to be of service, Commander," he replied with equal dryness.

Thelea let that one pass, instead concentrating on the object she'd found. It was thin, almost like a wire, but definitely made of metal. There were tiny blue letters on it, too small of her to read, but almost iridescent in the light of the glowrod. The end was a cylinder of metal, with a thin fiber extended from it. "Transmitter," she murmured. "It's a transmitter." Without turning around, she dropped the glowrod. "Caelin, there's a microspanner on the gantry. Hand it down here, please."

For a moment, Rurik was so startled at her abrupt politeness he didn't quite catch her request. A red-eyed glare thrown over her shoulder jolted him into action. He scrabbled through the toolbox on the gantry until he found the small implement she'd requested. "What is it?"

Thelea didn't reply, activating the spanner and carefully detaching the filament from the TIE's strut. Turning it over in her palm, she tried to read the tiny letters, but they were too small. The fibrous antenna was no wider than a single thread of Sivurian silk. "A transmitting device of some kind," she said, not turning around. "How much you want to bet this is what that Rebel was supposed to be listening for?"

Rurik dropped to a crouch at the edge of the gantry. "Giriad?" he said, the disbelief combining with disgust in his tone. "A Rebel spy?"

Thelea's mouth tightened at the corners. "So it would seem." She handed the tiny device to Rurik and turned back to examine the spot from which she'd removed it. Tugging off her skin-tight glove, she passed a finger over the spot. When it came away, she rubbed thumb and forefinger together, eyes narrowing.

"I can't believe it," Rurik was saying meanwhile. "Quoris of all people. He seems like such a. . .baby. How could he be a turncoat?"

"Maybe he wasn't," Thelea said, boosting herself to a sitting position on the edge of the access gantry. "There's adhesive tac still on the strut where the transmitter was. It's still sticky. That was a hastily-applied piece of equipment."

"So he was in a rush to get it on there before we had to leave or before a tech caught him," Rurik dismissed. "Let's report this to Commander Varkris."

Thelea was on the catwalk with one graceful leap, so quick that Rurik hadn't even realized she'd moved until she was standing beside him. "Varkris?" Her hand fell on his shoulder, stopping him and turning him around. "Varkris might not be on our side."

"What?" Rurik stared into the glittering orbs, wishing he'd figured out how to read her. "He's the first officer. Who's side is he on? The Rebels?"

"Whoever's doing this may not be working for the Rebellion, at least not directly," Thelea said, her voice low. "But somebody wants us dead, and until we find out who that someone is and who he's working for, I say we don't trust anyone. That means Giriad, L'Grath, the tech crew, even the bridge officers."

"You're saying we're going to hide this from everyone?" Rurik demanded, aghast. "That's next door to treason! If we do that we'll both have to learn how to breathe vacuum. We have to at least tell Commander L'Grath."

"No!" Thelea's tone left no room for objection. Even as she snapped the monosyllable, something caused her to stop, whatever else she might have added by way of explanation lost. Her eyes were suddenly focused over his shoulder, back toward L'Grath's fighter. "Wait a minute."

She turned around and went back to L'Grath's Interceptor. Rurik followed reluctantly. "What is it now?"

Without glancing back at him, she said, "I just remembered something."

"What?" Receiving no reply, Rurik heaved a sigh of the long-suffering and followed. Thelea was now on the access gantry of their commander's fighter, inspecting the wing strut in the same place as she'd retrieved the transmitter from Giriad's fighter. "Commander, you already-"

"Hush," she said distractedly, almost as though speaking to a child. "I just remembered something I noticed when we were looking at L'Grath's fighter. There was nothing unusual, except a little mark on the wing strut in the same place as where I found the transmitter on Giriad's fighter. I didn't even think about it until I found it."

Rurik crouched down and shone the glowrod over her shoulder. Thelea's red eyes showed a brief flicker of surprise before she turned her attention back to the strut. She ran her fingers over the outer plates that protected the delicate internal circuitry. "Here it is," she breathed, touching the joint where the strut met the solar panel. "Let me see the transmitter." Realizing that if he wanted answers he was going to have to wait and see, Rurik handed over the tiny device. "Look at this."

Peering over her shoulder, he saw that there was a small gap in the protective paneling, just wide enough that the transmitter fit into the crack. "Coincidence?"

Thelea removed the device and examined it. "More adhesive." She looked back over her shoulder at him. Rurik raised an eyebrow, an d she narrowed the glowing eyes. "Someone's playing a very clever game here, Lieutenant. Still think we should report this?"

***

"Varkris, I'm disappointed."

"Sir, I didn't--there wasn't anything I could do." Varkris shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, his back locked at rigid attention. "I had no idea the rebels would intercept the shuttle. If I had, I would have had him eliminated myself."

"The pilot was useless!" Varkris winced at the inhumanly sharp tone. "His recovery by the Alliance is no great loss to us. But you allowed Commander Thelea access to him!"

"It wasn't my choice," Varkris protested before he thought about his words. "She requested permission from her own wing commander and he asked the captain. How could I protest without explaining my reasons?"

"We cannot tell you everything. You are supposed to be able to act on your own discretion." The executive officer waited anxiously as the pause lengthened. "The rebel has been recaptured. We now can never be sure what he told them, and whether one of Alpha Wing is working for the Alliance."

"I thought you said one of them was working for you," Varkris demanded. "That's what you told me the last time I spoke to you."

For the first time, there was uncertainty. "We have our doubts."

"What? Now you're saying you're not sure?"

"That is not important. Right now, the difficulty is Thelea. We have reason to believe she has involved Caelin. That makes both of them liabilities. Eliminate them. No more hoping the Rebels will deal with them for us. Finish them. As soon a you can."

Varkris's mouth tightened into a thin smile. The order he'd been waiting for. "With pleasure."

***

"What are we going to do?" Rurik was almost running to keep up with Thelea. "If we're not going to tell L'Grath or Commander Varkris about this, then who?"

Thelea shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe no one."

"Thelea, we can't just do this ourselves. We'd have to watch our backs at every minute, and one of those times he'll have the drop on us." Rurik wondered why she was staring at him with that impenetrable red gaze, not saying anything. Finally it dawned on him that had called her Thelea rather than Commander or even a sarcastic nickname. She seemed to be mulling that over, trying to figure out how to respond.

Finally, she said, "All right, Rurik, what would you suggest we do?"

He couldn't help it. A grin slowly spread across his features. "We're going to have to be very surreptitious. Now, who do we know in the fleet that might believe us?"

Thelea shrugged. "Not the Captain, that's certain. Not L'Grath or Giriad, and neither of them would be much help anyway. I can't contact the--well, you know." She indicated her hidden brand on her arm. "They don't leave telecom ids. And if we can't trust Varkris, then who?"

Rurik considered that for a moment. Then, his grin became sly. "There's one person who might listen." Thelea quirked a skeptical eyebrow, and he looked pointedly at her. Suddenly, it clicked.

"You don't mean..." Her face did not pale, at least, not that he could tell, but her eyes widened. "We couldn't. Not possible. How could we--"

"Do you have any reason to believe he might be a traitor, or that he would turn us over to Lord Vader?"

"No." She shook her head slowly, her lips still trembling. "No, he wouldn't, but I still can't-"

"He'll listen to you."

"I can't!" For the first time since he'd met her, there was anxiety in her voice. Even so, his own next words surprised him.

"We'll go together."

***

He looked out at the stars, waiting. He didn't know how he knew the voice was coming, but this time he did.

*She is coming.*

"Of what consequence?" he asked softly.

*She needs your help. Do what you can. Just as always.*

***

Thelea resisted the urge to fidget in her seat. Talking their way onto the shuttle had been surprisingly easy. Easy, she admitted to herself, for Rurik. Whatever he'd done on that backwater dustball he called home, he'd learned to smooth-talk his way into just about anything. She'd have to be careful. He was probably good at sabacc, too. She had simply stood by and looked appropriately officer-like.

The shuttle was approaching the fleet flagship almost too fast for her. Rurik, seated beside her, seemed completely relaxed. Thelea knew she appeared calm outwardly--she was working on it. Eyes half-closed, she focused on the inner balance she'd learned to find. Right now, however, her heart was pounding so hard it was impossible to focus. All her skills that let her stay frozen in the heat of a deep-space firefight were useless now. The last time she remembered being so nervous was the night she'd left the homeworld, knowing she'd never go back. This was as close as she'd come.

Once she felt the deck plates of the Victorious beneath her feet, she was more certain than ever that this was a mistake. "Rurik, we should just go now. By now they've missed us on the Valiant and we'll be court-marshaled. If we go back--"

"Too late," he said, looking much more relaxed than he must have been. If her thoughts hadn't been so distracted, she was sure she'd have sensed nervousness. A replicant droid couldn't be so calm. "All we have to do is get to the ready room, and explain that we have an emergency that we have to explain."

"We are just going to march in and demand an audience? What if he throws us out? We could be court-marshaled! We should just go back now."

"Thelea, what are you afraid of?" Rurik demanded. "Are you really afraid he won't see us? Or are you afraid he will?"

"Two days ago I'd have thrown you in the brig for talking to me like that!" she hissed, but she knew he was right. On the one hand, they could both be busted back to the training station or worse. On the other....she felt the pouch in her uniform pocket that held the little transmitter. There was more than careers depending on this. And perhaps....hadn't she wanted to meet him? She drew in a breath, and let the tension drain from her. It was almost as though something was helping allay her nerves. "All right. Let's go."

Finding the ready room was the easy part. The Victorious had exactly the same layout as all the VSDs in the fleet, and no one challenged their presence. Getting into it might be the hard part. The door seemed unguarded, and to their surprise, did not have a key card lock. "Shall we knock?" Rurik asked, somewhat dryly.

Thelea hesitated, then said, "No. Follow me." She stepped to the door, which slid aside obligingly enough. Instead of a ready room, they found themselves in a dark antechamber, the lights dimmed to shadow. Thelea stepped to the inner door, Rurik close at her heels. The door behind them slid closed, and she had the uneasy sense of being trapped. And that they weren't alone...

"Rurik, look out!" she snapped, spinning on her heel and drawing her blaster.

The shadowy gray form she'd almost sensed rather than saw froze. In the dim light she made out the form of a nightmarish figure, with a prominent jaw full of predatory teeth and surmounted by the nostrils of a tracking animal. She saw the thin glitter of an assassin's knife in the being's right hand. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice grating like sand on plate glass.

"We're here-"

Before she could finish, a voice on the intercom above the inner door said, "Let them pass, Rukh." The creature did not appear happy about it, but he withdrew again into the shadow from which he'd come.

The inner door slid open silently. Exchanging nervous looks, they stepped into the gloomy sanctum. At first, the room seemed empty. But then they saw the chair at the end, and the white uniform. Two glowing red slits above the white were the only illumination in the room, save Thelea's own eyes.

"Lieutenant Commander Thelea tal Kyrn," the even, cool voice, so full of authority, said, rolling the name thoughtfully on his tongue. Then, as an afterthought, "Lieutenant Caelin. Please, come in."

Thelea swallowed, but drew herself up to perfect attention. "Let me do the talking." She stepped ahead of him, coming close to command chair. Rurik watched from two paces back. He had the uneasy feeling he was watching some sort of ritual. Thelea had suddenly adopted an attitude he'd never seen her use. She stopped, folded her hands before her, finger-tips down, and lowered her head. "Vice Admiral Thrawn," she said quietly, eyes on the deck plates.

"Welcome, Commander," the Vice-Admiral said, rising to stand before her. "I've been expecting you." He stepped forward, within a pace of her, and he gestured slightly with one hand. It must have been a signal, because she raised her head and met his gaze. Thrawn studied her features carefully, almost as though he were examining a piece of sculpture. He never moved, but Rurik could see that he'd taken in all her figure in that one glance. Finally, the Admiral nodded, as if he approved of something. Thrawn turned and stepped away. "What brings you here so surreptitiously?"

Thelea glanced at Rurik out of the corner of her eye. He knows, she thought grimly. He knows all about the shuttle. "Vice-Admiral, we have information that we felt we should present to you directly."

"There are appropriate channels," he said, returning to his chair. "Why did you not notify your squadron commander, or one of the officers aboard the Valiant?"

"Sir, we felt that we..." she hesitated, and Thrawn leaned forward slightly in his chair.

"Yes, Commander?" he said patiently, voice still level.

"We felt that we could not trust our chain of command," she said, her voice just as even. "We have reason to believe that someone within the chain of command is attempting to have us killed."

Thrawn didn't seem to react to this for a minute. Then he said slowly, "Do you have evidence?"

She removed the small transmitter from her pocket. "We found this transmitter on our wingmate's TIE Interceptor, after a battle where we failed to engage the enemy because they had been notified of our presence. We are not sure by whom, but we are afraid that our mission and our lives are jeopardized."

"Why not simply report this discovery to your wing commander?" the Vice Admiral asked. Thelea, with an uneasy glance at Rurik, explained the confusion regarding to which fighter the transmitter had originally been attached, and from there the other problems they had experienced, including the compromised missions and the attempt to blame the entire wing, and the encounter with the Rebel pilot.

Thrawn listened patiently while she spoke, withholding comment. "So, Vice-Admiral, we are not sure who the traitor is. The behavior of our first officer has lead us to believe he is not trustworthy, either. We did not know what to do, until Lieutenant Caelin suggested that we bring this to your attention."

For the first time, Thrawn's attention turned to the other pilot. Rurik, who had only recently prided himself on being able to meet Thelea's gaze without flinching, found he could not do the same with the Admiral's glowing eyes. "What gave you such an unusual idea, Lieutenant?"

Rurik swallowed around a dry throat. "I thought you would be the most likely to believe us, sir, and not accuse us of manufacturing the evidence to protect ourselves."

"What made you reach that seemingly illogical conclusion?" Thrawn asked. "Why not your captain?"

Rurik shifted uneasily. "Well, sir...." he said weakly, his eyes shifting from the Admiral to Thelea, and their undeniable resemblance.

Thrawn followed his gaze, and a slight flicker crossed his expression. "I see." He turned to Thelea. "And what did you say to this, Commander?"

Thelea hesitated before answering. "I was not certain, Admiral. I did not know how you would receive me."

"Why is that? Why would I receive you any differently than I would any other loyal servant of the Empire?"

She lowered her eyes. "I am tal Kyrn, Admiral. I have no voice for you to hear."

Thrawn didn't reply for a minute. Instead he closed his eyes, as if meditating. "You are a soldier of the Empire, Commander Thelea. That tells me more than a name might." He opened his eyes. "I will begin a private investigation into this. You have no other recourse in the fleet?"

Thelea tightened her jaw. "There is a group, sir, within the Empire, who have at times provided me with information. I am under orders, however, not to reveal their identity to anyone."

"I am aware of their existence," Thrawn said, with equal care. "I know nothing against them, but I also know that they have a private agenda, one that may not include protecting their agents. Trust their word, but do not depend on it." Thelea nodded. "I will have only the most trustworthy of my own agents look into the situation. I wish I could do more to help you, Commander, but my hands are tied. Be assured that you have an ally." He rose and took a data pad from a desk console. After pressing a few keys, he removed the recorder chip and placed it in Thelea's hand. "Use these codes to contact the Victorious, and you may monitor the investigation's progress. Be careful. I can't offer you any personal protection."

Thelea nodded again, more crisply. "Understood, Admiral."

"I'll arrange for you to travel back to your ship with the next supply convoy. There will be no questions." He tapped a few buttons on the comm system. Thelea and Rurik stood at attention, waiting for a dismissal. Rurik studied her out of the corner of his eye, and he saw what he would almost swear was disappointment in her face. The Admiral looked up. "One more thing, Commander."

"Yes, sir," she said, drawing herself up straighter.

For a minute, the Admiral said nothing. Then he touched a button on the control pad. "Do you recognize this?"

Thelea turned and looked at the hologram that had appeared. Rurik waited near the desk as she approached the pedestal. It was a necklace; a medallion engraved in a silver and gold swirling pattern, the ends filigreed in a lacy pattern. At the center was a deep-colored stone, apparently blue, but as she moved around the holographic pedestal, it changed to green to silver to a deep gold. Thelea's brows knit together as she stared at it, and a memory surfaced....

She was little, little enough to be carried. There was a black cloak, and a soft tunic. The medallion glittered just within her reach, and she lunged for it, but her tiny hands missed by mere inches. They were moving so fast, and it slipped away. She didn't know where they were going, only that she was afraid, so afraid....

The memory slipped back into the shadows of her mind. "Yes," she murmured softly. "I remember someone, when I was very small. They were carrying me, and I remember grabbing at it." She looked up at the Admiral. "Why? Do you know...." She couldn't get the words out.

Thrawn didn't say anything. He shut off the holoprojector and stepped beside her. "Be very, very careful, Commander," he said quietly, and to her surprise, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Your service is valued more than you know."