"Security is an illusion. You want security? Call the Navy. Launch a regiment of troopers. We are healthcare providers. We treat sickness. We identify symptoms. We locate germs whether they arise from within or have come from the outside. The longer we wait to identify a disorder, the harder it is to treat the disease."
- ISB Major Lio Partagaz
Jeskin Togwa was having a rough day. As Regent Fallon's head chef, he was in charge of the galley aboard the Overseer, Fallon's specially modified sail barge. While the Besalisk normally wouldn't bat an eye at such a challenge, hosting representatives of the three major factions within the Sarrahbani government was giving him a serious headache. Sighing to himself, Togwa deftly plated a roasted head of rootleaf with two hands while the other two garnished it with herbs and roasted chando peppers.
Looking around briefly, he called for his newest kitchen porter. "Tarm! Tarm!! Treg's gullet, boy, where are you?!"
A young man rushed into the kitchen from the pantry. "Yes, chef!"
"Get that wine Master Fallon ordered for his meeting. He needs it in Regent Kellian's quarters - on the double," Togwa grumped, inflating his wattle slightly to impress the task's importance on the porter.
The newly recruited porter nodded in acknowledgment and swiftly went about his task. "Yes, chef! Right away," he exclaimed over the din of kitchen activity. In his mind, however, Tarm's thoughts took a darker turn. Kriffing slave driver, he complained to himself. I should give him a dose of this, but I need as much of it as possible for the job.
Tarm quickly placed several glasses and a carafe of wine on a tray, spraying the inside of each glass with a sanisprayer he produced from inside his vest. The young man smirked grimly to himself as the droplets quickly dried in the drinking vessels. That should do it. Enough to kill the entire delegation with one drink. Tray in hand, Tarm re-entered the ordered chaos of the galley, calling out, "Coming through!"
A short trip forward to Regent Kellian's luxurious cabin and the trap was set. Here's to the health of the Emperor and his New Order, Tarm thought to himself as he handed the wine and cups to Fallon's butler. Enjoy it for the short time you have left, fools.
Minutes later, the assembled members of Fallon's Traditionalist subfaction arrived to begin plotting their next move. Two of Fallon's own guards remained outside to ensure the security of the external security of the meeting. Neither of them had a chance to grow bored as Maze and his fellow Rebels approached.
"Hold it," cautioned one of the sentries. "State your business."
"We're members of Regess Henoin's staff," Maze replied nervously. "We're here to, uh, parlay, I guess you could say."
The two guards shared a skeptical look before one of them pulled his comlink and made a quiet inquiry. "Right," he said, turning to review the quintet, "Regent Fallon says you're welcome to join him and his fellow regents. Make it quick, though. They have important business to attend to."
Maze nodded in acknowledgment before leading the way into the cabin. "Thank you."
Discussion in the room slowed and quieted down as the assembled officials examined the newcomers in the room. The decor of Kellian's cabin was as lavish as Henoin's; finger foods and wine were furnished on a nearby table. Maze quietly grabbed the back of Kakk's robe before he could make a beeline for the buffet. Two of Fallon's peers cast questioning looks upon the group, especially the Jawa, as they whispered between themselves.
"How may we assist you, gentlemen," asked Fallon.
Borill wasted no time in coming to the point. "Regent Fallon," the Lorrdian nodded in respectful acknowledgment, "on behalf of Regess Henoin and the Restorationist Alliance, we have come to speak with you about the future of Sarrahban."
"But of course," Fallon smiled, "but let's do so in a more relaxed manner. Silas, you may go ahead and serve the wine. Please, gentlemen, feel free to get something to eat as well. My chef and his staff seem to have outdone themselves in both the quality and quantity of our victuals here."
Maze took this as his cue to circulate. One of the regents, a young woman with short-cut blonde hair and clad in the green and black of a minor house, caught his eye. Maze approached her with Kakk trailing behind.
Seeing her open disgust at his first mate's presence, the smuggler tried to defuse the situation. "Y'know," he started wryly, "my little friend here isn't that bad a guy. Without him, I probably wouldn't be here to share this moment with you." Kakk puffed himself up a bit with pride, attempting to look as harmless and amicable as possible.
Unimpressed by the pair, the young noblewoman rolled her eyes, took a drink from the butler's tray, and walked away.
Silas continued to quietly make the rounds, offering each attendee a cup of wine. The rich red liquid did nothing to betray the sinister secret now melding with it in each glass. Before Fallon could offer a toast, a young regent, clearly anxious to cut to the chase, broke protocol and took the first drink. A look of thinly disguised displeasure crossed his face and several seconds later he convulsed and collapsed.
Halcor quickly knelt by the man and checked for a pulse. Finding none, he cast a warning look to Fallon. "Nobody drinks," he rasped through his breath mask before turning to Zed. "Zed, take a sample of the wine and analyze it - get a sample of this man's blood as well."
"Yes, Doctor Halcor," Zed replied. The droid knelt slowly to keep from disturbing any other evidence that might exist close to the corpse. Extending a pair of needles from each arm's injector attachment, the droid drew a sample of the dead man's blood as well as a sample of the wine that remained in the glass. The initial task finished, Zed rose and began a quick analysis.
"This man was killed by a fast-acting neurotoxin. Themfar to be exact," Zed stated firmly. "The poison was in the victim's cup and I believe it is in others as well." The climate of the entire room became chilled and tense as guests abandoned their cups on the buffet table, along with a few untouched plates of hors d'oeuvres.
After a few more tense minutes, Zed confirmed his theory. "Confirmed. The poison was in each cup. Whoever prepared this intended to assassinate anybody and everybody who was present in the room."
With that pronouncement, Fallon motioned for his bodyguard and one of the parliament guards to seize the elderly butler. "So," Fallon growled, "their corruption even infected you. And to think you were in my family's service all these years..."
The old man was nearly apoplectic with fear. "P-please! Have mercy, Regent Fallon! I've done nothing. I've been loyal for all this time," Silas sobbed.
"Quiet, you," snarled Fallon's bodyguard as he pulled a snub-nosed blaster from his belt. The dark-haired giant of a man looked to his employer. "What are your orders, Regent?"
Kakk, having already cased the room as a force of habit, tugged at Maze's sleeve, babbling and motioning to a camera mounted in one of the upper corners of the cabin.
"Let's not be so hasty, gentlemen," Maze interceded. "My friend here recommends we check the security footage. That should help us get to the bottom of this mess."
"Very well," consented Fallon. "Let's see what evidence exists before we commit to a judgment." The regent seated himself at the desk and tapped a few commands on the computer console. A holographic replay of events leading up to the murder then replayed for all to see.
The scene showed the old butler receiving the tray with the wine and cups from a young man at the cabin door. He then set the tray down on the table next to the smorgasbord of delicacies laid out by Jeskin's staff before moving on to tend to other tasks around the room. Silas slumped back in relief as it became clear to everyone that he was not the assassin. The bodyguard's expression softened and he holstered his blaster. "I'm sorry," he said, placing a hand on the servant's shoulder.
Kakk continued his suggestions, translated by Maze. "He says we should check the other cameras, see where the assassin went," Maze noted.
Fallon motioned his bodyguard over and the two reviewed the footage as Maze and Kakk watched nearby. Rapidly switching through the various cameras, the guard began to track the porter as he took the long way around the Lido Deck's passages back to the galley.
Fallon's bodyguard smiled grimly. "Now we've got him. Let's go, boys," he said, pulling his blaster and checking the charge.
Maze waylaid the bodyguard on his way to the door. "Hold it. Let's do this with some finesse," he suggested. "If you go in there with blasters, it's going to get messy."
"So what do you recommend? If we don't go now, he'll escape," complained the bodyguard.
Maze thought for a brief moment. "Zed, d'you have any more sterile injector needles?"
The droid raised its manipulators and automatically swapped the used needles for sterile. "Yes, I do. What are you planning?"
"We're going to do a little kitchen inspection."
* * *
Togwa eyed the Ukian torbull roast closely as he gently placed the zaadi sprout garnish just so. He quickly hefted the platter with all four hands and turned away to place it on the ready table just as the kitchen door swished open. The Besalisk breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that his garnish remained undisturbed. Turning back, he was greeted with a surreal sight. Unamused and set on maintaining order and progress in his kitchen, he turned back to speak to his newest porter.
Maze's senses were overwhelmed by the smorgasboard of sensation. The clatter of dishes, the heat of the stoves and ovens, the tang of the spices intoxicated him. Casting his eyes about the spectacle, the smuggler quickly located his target. The assassin stood with the head chef at the kitchen's far end, their conversation covered by the din of their coworkers. The Besalisk shrugged and motioned the steward to a new task; in response, the man set to work cutting up a fibrous blue leek.
Needing to suddenly look inconspicuous, Maze let the sensations of the moment move him. The smuggler began to weave his way through the continually swirling morass of bodies. "Oooh, that looks great! It smells wonderful," Maze shouted at a Rodian sous chef preparing a Tynnan peppered prawn hotpot. He then spun around to narrowly dodge a servant droid carrying a platter filled with roasted trawlfish. "Auugh," he gasped at the reek, "that's awful!"
Maze turned and nearly rammed into a large, immovable object. Looking up, he found himself nose-to-nose with a four-armed hulk. "Just what do you think you're doing in my kitchen," the head chef growled, brandishing a meat fork in one hand and a massive pot lid in another.
"Um, uh, I - " Maze stammered.
"And what is that doing here?!" the besalisk roared incredulously.
Maze turned to see Zed had entered the kitchen and joined him without a sound. Not even the racket of the kitchen could have covered the droid's heavy footfalls on the tile floor "We are here to verify that our matron's food allergies have been accommodated in your menu," the medical droid droned.
"Yeah," Maze piped up, emboldened by Zed's save.
"Food allergies," Togwa grunted, "What food allergies? I was told nothing of this."
"Excuse us," Zed replied, unshaken. The droid brushed past the nonplussed head chef, followed by Maze.
Tarm made as much of a show as one could chopping up a vegetable. Being a trained assassin, he was familiar with bladework, but showing off would betray his true nature. Despite his facade, the assassin-turned-porter found himself watched from each side.
"Excuse me," the Henoin-liveried medical droid intoned, "what is the nomenclature of this vegetable?"
"It's, uh, a Niaman leek," Tarm replied, caught off-guard by the droid's request.
Zed paused a moment as he searched his database. The results did not surprise him - not that they could anyway. A Morellian leek, not Niaman. "May I scan the vegetable," he inquired, moving a manipulator to do so.
"Sure," Tarm said, backing away. Maze pressed closer to the assassin, distracting him.
"Oh, sorry," Maze smirked. The assassin never saw it coming. A slight shift in the trajectory of Zed's manipulator, a quick needlestick, and it was done.
The assassin's legs suddenly went weak and he gaped at the droid. "What... did you... do?"
"Whoops," Maze grunted, catching the assassin as he suddenly started going limp. "Looks like we got a fainter here. I think he caught his finger with the blade. Phew! D'you always let your staff drink on the job? He smells like my grandpa's still. Don't fret, we'll haul him to the medbay."
"Yes, I will attend to his... injury," Zed added.
Togwa gaped at the pair's audacity, unsure if he should be impressed or insulted.
As the pair hauled their quarry out through the pantry, Maze snagged a Corellian mushroom canape from a tray and stuffed it in his mouth. Zed turned and stared at him.
"Hey, one for the road," the smuggler smugly muttered around the stolen morsel before leading the way through the pantry and out of the kitchen.
* * *
There was a cold splash as a bucket of water awakened Tarm with a start. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he looked around and gazed up at Regent Fallon's bodyguard from the cell's bunk.
"Oh good, you're awake," he snarled into the assassin's dripping face. "I was afraid we were going to have to wait for you to finish your nap."
Tarm spat in the bodyguard's face, a gobbet of spittle running down the side of the man's nose. He wiped it away with a dark chuckle. "Cute, Malkite. Yes, that's right. We know about your little cult. We might have isolated ourselves from the Empire and Rebellion, but we do keep up with what goes on in the universe," he growled, stepping away from the cell door.
"What evi-" Tarm tried to protest, before being cut off.
"We tore your rack space apart and found your party favors," the bodyguard said, gesturing at the poisoner's kit on the table. "Who are you working for? Heitman? Partas? The Empire?"
Tarm looked at the bodyguard, the two guards accompanying him, then up at the security camera in the upper corner of the room. "Imperial credits aren't worth all this," he leered at the camera. With a shift of his jaw, he cracked a hollow molar in the back of his mouth. The toxin, another Malkite concoction kept secret through generations, did its work fast. The assassin twitched twice, wheezed, and then slumped over dead on the bunk.
* * *
Regent Kellian's quarters were deathly silent as a House Fallon investigator deftly removed the poisoned wine glasses and bottle. Kakk was deeply disappointed that the hors' d'oeuvres were being carted off for analysis as well. Still, there was more to do and poking around the Overseer's computer systems was enough to quell any gnawing hunger.
Fallon, Kellian, and the other nobles had quickly and quietly left as well, escorting their deceased peer to the medbay. Meanwhile, Halcor, and Zed busied themselves helping the other investigators, giving statements, analysis reports, and generally trying to keep out of the way. Maze and Borill were busy watching the interrogation unfold over his Kakk's shoulder when everything suddenly went sideways.
"Kriffin' hell," Maze exclaimed, stalking away from the desk. "Well, at least we know the Empire is involved."
"True, but we're down one information source," Borill countered. "What's our next move, people?"
"We should perhaps try consulting with Regent Heitman. This event is most definitely something that could galvanize the disparate factions into unifying against the Imperials," Halcor suggested quietly.
"It's worth a try," Borill conceded, gesturing to the door. "Shall we?"
"Any port in a storm," Maze shrugged as he followed his compatriots. "C'mon, Kakk. Let's see if we can rally the troops."
* * *
Approaching Regent Heitman's suite, Halcor and the others could hear they were not the first to consider consulting with the commercial subfaction leader. Undeterred, the Ubese reached forward and touched the controls for the door chime. The muffled voices paused their debate and the door swished open.
"Enter," Leitman said, ushering the Rebels in while casting a furtive look down the corridor.
Maze cast his gaze around the suite, hand on blaster.
"Easy, you're among friends," Heitman said calmly.
"As much as I hate to admit it, yes," Fallon agreed.
"At least we agree on that," Heitman smirked.
"Our stability and independence comes from our neutrality," Fallon warned. "If we continue to allow outside trade to influence our policies, we will eventually open ourselves to domination by one side or the other in this war. Rebellion, Empire, Corporate Sector - it will be no different from the Clone Wars when the Republic was here."
"You continue to see shadows in every corner despite the brightness of day, Fallon," Heitman replied. "We cannot stand alone without imports and exports to support our society. In every system there is give and take. The idea is to maintain balance and avoid being taken."
"Spoken like a true merchant," Maze said, stepping forward. "My mentor had a similar point of view on the universe at large. We were free traders of a sort. Granted, he had a more... mystical bent to his philosophy, but it held true in a lot of things." Except perhaps in dealing with the Hutts, the young smuggler added inwardly.
"Is there anything to report on the assassin? Did he reveal his employer," Fallon said, casting an anxious look at the Rebels.
"The assassin chose death over incarceration," Zed said with a sad tone to his modulated voice.
"A shame," Fallon scowled. "This further widens the gap between the parliamentary factions. Perhaps we should end these talks and discuss expelling the Imperial - "
"On the contrary," interrupted Borill. "Your security team uncovered that he was a Malkite poisoner, even found his kit in his rack space. In his defiance, he did reveal he was hired by the Empire before ending it all."
"That in itself should be seen as common ground between the Traditionalist subfactions, if not common ground between the Traditionalists and Restorationists," added Halcor, his cyborg construct lights blinking as he considered his words. "Before the Rebel Alliance consolidated into the force it is now, there were many subfactions, Senatorial, Partisan, and others less devoted to the ideals to the Republic. The battles of Scarif and Yavin have shown us that together we are stronger than if we fight separately."
As the two Regents considered Dr. Halcor's words, the suite door swished open, admitting a black-and-gold Fallon liveried SE-4 unit. Duster in one hand, portavac in the other, the droid began to work its way around the edge of the room, dusting non-existent cobwebs.
"We didn't request cleaning services, droid," Heitman said blandly. "Please leave."
The droid continued on its quest against invisible filth.
"Droid, this is Regent Fallon. Directive One Aurek. Return to base," Fallon ordered firmly.
The droid persisted in its fantasy. Now it was running the portavac over non-existent draperies by the viewport. Turning away from the window, it began to shuffle toward the center of the room.
Kakk watched the droid as it shuffled toward him in its apparent electronic dementia. He had seen his share of senile droids before, but nothing that was this well-maintained. Taking a step back, the Jawa reached into his cloak and produced his ion gun. A well-placed blast stopped the droid in its tracks and created a new threat. Smoke began to curl from under the back of the droid's cranial hatch.
Kakk quickly ran behind the droid, applying his small shoulder to the back of the droid's locked knees. It toppled over with a metallic thud, smoke trailing from its head. Small flames licked at the edges of the cranial hatch. The Jawa deftly pried the back of the droids head open and began patting out the budding fire. Kakk then reached in and gingerly pulled out a melted chip and held it up for all to see.
"What is that," Maze queried, kneeling next to his first mate.
Kakk burbled a response and the smuggler nodded sagely. "A prog chip. Whoever stuck that in would have to bypass the behavior matrix to get it to accept the programming on it, right?"
Fallon and Heitman looked surprised at Maze's translation of Kakk's pronouncement before Heitman glowered at his peer. "Did you honestly think such a ploy would work, Fallon?"
"How dare you," Fallon roared back. "I was nearly killed by poison an hour ago. Do you honestly think I would try to broker an alliance and then assassinate you?"
"Enough," Halcor interjected sharply. "This is what the Empire wants. Divide and conquer, that's how they maintain their hold."
"Let's get this junk heap down to Environmental Control and see what else we can find out," Maze groaned, hefting the droid up with Borill's help.
Kakk waved his arms angrily, babbling firmly.
"What did he say," Fallon asked quizzically.
"He said you're welcome," Maze grunted. "And he said he calls dibs on it for saving you."
"Granted," Fallon chuckled.
* * *
Landsman Tech Tranek busied himself running diagnostic on the reserve SE-4 units in the Environmental Support center. Despite being modified for operation in a vacuum, the Overseer was a floating palace. As such, Fallon called for - no, demanded, Tranek reminded himself - it be staffed as such. All that will change once the Empire is in control, he thought to himself. No more nobles and peasants, only equality and security.
The door swished open and Tranek looked up to see an SE-4 unit being lugged into the room by a pair of House Henoin-liveried staffers. They were guided and chided by a diminutive foreman. Behind them, a pair of House Fallon security guards flanked the door. Tranek blanched slightly as Maze and Dr. Borill hefted the droid onto the work table.
"What - what is that doing here," Tranek stammered.
Kakk babbled a response.
"It's shot," Maze translated.
"Not that," Tranek said, referring to the droid before gesturing to Kakk. "That. He'll rob us blind!"
Maze and Dr. Borill looked at one another, unimpressed by the tech's response. Kakk was the only one to dignify Tranek's statement with a response - in this case, a vulgar gesture and a comment about the tech's heritage.
Yes, he's indeed the mole here, Borill thought to himself. Before he could voice his accusation, Zed and Dr. Halcor entered the room, quickly and calmly flanking the tech as he backed away from the fruits of his failure.
"Are you feeling alright, sir," Zed queried. "You appear pale and diaphoretic."
"I'm fine, really!"
"Maybe you'd best sit down," Halcor interjected. There was a quick needlestick as the doctor grasped the tech with his prosthetic hand and Tranek felt a bit drowsy.
"Well, may... be..." He never finished the sentence as Zed and Halcor guided him into a chair in the corner. Borrowing the binders from both guards, Maze and Halcor bound the tech to the chair.
The tech awoke to Dr. Halcor jamming a hand in his mouth while the Jawa and droid rummaged through his pockets. Tranek quickly tried to voice his indignity, but it only came out a muffled, garbled mess. He then tried to bite down, intending to at least take part of a finger in resistance. He only succeeded in breaking an incisor on Halcor's prosthetic ring finger.
"Nice try," Halcor commented as he ran a medpac scanner around the tech's mandibular area. "No hollow teeth or suicide devices, but some definite dental issues, including that broken incisor."
"I believe you may remove your digits from the suspect's mouth, Doctor Halcor. I have found what is undoubtedly a suicide capsule," Zed announced, somewhat triumphantly. The droid gingerly held up a red capsule with a black skull emblazoned on it. Kakk looked slightly crestfallen that he found little more than a couple of credit slips in the tech's other pocket. Deciding to cut his losses, he quietly pocketed them.
Tranek struggled against the binders. "Who are you? What do you want?!"
"Stow it," Maze said, grabbing a greasy rag and stuffing it in the tech's mouth. "You'll get a chance to talk later." He opened the door. "You guys want to take him away? It's getting crowded in here."
The guards looked at one another, looked at the fuming technician, and then at Maze. "With or without the chair," the bigger of the two asked.
Maze considered the captive. "Ehh, better keep him tied down. He looks about as happy as a borcatu in heat."
Maze slipped out briefly to give the guards room to work as the others shuffled around the cramped compartment. As the two juggernauts wheeled the tech back down the corridor, Maze smiled proudly and waved goodbye. Tranek spat out the gag and howled a stream of invective back at the smuggler.
Returning to the task at hand, Maze found Halcor and Kakk examining the other two SE-4 units in the center. "No malignant code or hardware," the Ubese physician noted, pulling a cyborg interface cord from one of the droid's interface sockets. Kakk yipped in agreement, hopping down from a stool where he had been perched, examining the back of the other droid's braincase.
"Let's take a look at this one, see what it had in store," Maze noted, working to flip the disabled droid over onto its back. Kakk moved the stool over, hopped up again, and motioned for everyone to stand back. The scavenger deftly took a small prying tool and popped open the droid's black and gold chestplate. Looking over the internal mechanisms, he quickly found an object that just didn't belong.
"Are those blaster gas canisters," Borill said puzzledly.
"Yep," Maze confirmed. "What do you think they're for?"
Kakk gently put the trio of canisters down on the work table and turned his attention to a datapad. Tapping away with determination, he quickly unlocked it and decrypted the most recent message before handing it off to Maze.
Maze read it, his face growing grim. "Whatever's in there, it's not good. I'm guessing the droid was supposed to gas us."
Kakk fished the memory chip out of one of his already cluttered pockets. He leaned over and maneuvered a magnifier to look closer at the chip. There in the magnified image was the proof: an almost-microscopic Imperial seal printed on the chip, slightly distorted from the device's melting.
"If the Empire is willing to send two assassins against two different subfactions' leaders, we can easily expect a third," Borill said darkly. "Kakk, see if you can kill the surveillance equipment in here. We don't want to give anybody else ideas while we discuss things."
Kakk hopped off the stool, dragged it over to the computer console and started working away. Within minutes the cameras and listening gear cut out and were replaced with a loop of an empty Environmental Services compartment.
"While we can certainly leverage the assassination attempts against Regent Fallon's paranoia, it's not going to help us gain the nycillin," Borill mused. "Perhaps it would be best for Sarrahban to remain neutral, allowing the Rebellion to purchase nycillin through other channels."
"Don't underestimate the Empire. The Imperials will readily replace individuals and micromanage them to death," Halcor cautioned. "Heitman and others like him may need a back door to avoid any unpleasant situations. The Rebel Alliance could provide that back door."
Kakk swiveled himself around on the stool to join the conversation. Gesturing dramatically, he made his own suggestion.
Maze chuckled at his first mate's audacity. "Let the Empire in so the Rebellion can steal supplies? Points for creativity, but I don't think that plan would work for long, buddy."
Kakk gave his captain a sidelong stink eye and burbled a trite comeback.
"I know plenty about smuggling," Maze growled, "and... creative acquisitions. Just because I can't fly like a holovid ace doesn't mean I don't have the smuggling chops!"
Halcor and Borill ignored the undignified debate raging between their compatriots. "Still, leveraging the attempts on their lives may convince Heitman and Fallon that smuggling nycillin to the Rebellion would be worthwhile," Halcor opined.
"Outright smuggling might not be entirely feasible - at least not in the long run. Shell companies might camouflage it better than hidden compartments," Borill suggested.
"Still, many of the non-Imperial regents don't seem like the types to abandon their homeworld. Especially Regess Henoin and the Restorationists," Halcor said, leaning against the bulkhead.
Kakk, having already grown bored exchanging insults with Maze, broke off the debate and offered his own thoughts. "Don't change the subject just 'cause you're losing the fight. It's rude," Maze warned. "He says they probably wouldn't leave unless they're afraid of being murdered. Maybe the Rebellion could smuggle their families out."
"At any rate, we need to warn Regess Henoin and the rest of her delegation and report back to Regent Fallon," Borill directed. "I'll report to Fallon what we found here and send security back to dispose of the device and package Kakk's friend here for shipment. The rest of you report to Regess Henoin. If there's going to be another attempt, she and the Restorationists will need all the help they can get."
* * *
Borill quickly recounted their findings to Regent Fallon. "With all due respect, Regent Fallon, we recommend that you shift your efforts to another area, possibly other markets or buyers," Borill noted said, closing out his report.
Fallon nodded sagely. "I am grateful for your aid in these trying times, especially in light of the two attempts on the lives of myself and my Traditionalist colleagues. I will take your recommendations under advisement."
The physician bowed respectfully, maintaining his facade as a loyal aide to Regess Henoin. "If you will excuse me, Regent Fallon, I must return to Regess Henoin and help to prepare for the next session of negotiations."
Meanwhile, Halcor, Maze, Kakk, and Zed delivered their own report to Regess Henoin. "I thank my lucky stars and the Living Force for your aid, gentlemen. Without it, our efforts would be in vain and all would be lost," she said, leaning forward in her seat. "I had heard rumors that agents of the Imperial faction infiltrated Fallon's staff, but I didn't think they would be so audacious as to make two assassination attempts on the same day."
"If the agents were sent by the Empire, they probably would have been more successful," Halcor cautioned. "As it is, one was hired from the Malkite cult and the other was recruited because of his supposed patriotism."
"Is it possible that they have our suites under surveillance," Regent Tolik said, looking about in paranoia.
"Hrrmph," grunted Regent Tambrin, pounding the arm of his repulsorchair in anger. "I wouldn't be surprised."
"There's only one way to find out," Maze added. "Guys, let's do some bug hunting."
The quartet quickly swept the suite from top to bottom with the aid of two of House Henoin's guards, finding no threats, Imperial or otherwise. The door chime caught the attention of the Rebels as they closed out their report. "Enter," barked the Regess.
Borill entered and stopped just inside the door, looking at his friends staring back at him. "Did I miss something," he said, concern darkening his expression.
"Just a fruitless bug hunt, fortunately," Halcor replied. "Any news from the Traditionalist front?"
"Just that Regent Fallon is grateful for our aid and will take our recommendations under advisement," Borill reported.
"So, no news being good news, shouldn't we repeat this bit in the dining room before the negotiations start up again," Maze noted.
"If you'll excuse us, Regess," Halcor said, bowing deeply in respect.
The Regess gave her leave to Halcor and his fellows. "By all means, gentlemen."
All four double-timed it out the door, leaving Zed to care for Regent Tambrin per his role.
* * *
"What do you mean, 'no admittance,'" Maze growled at the House Fallon guard blocking his path.
"Exactly that. No admittance," the guard growled back. "Now back off."
"We are here on orders of Regess Henoin to investigate allegations of unlawful surveillance by members of the Imperial faction and the Empire," Maze argued. "Now would you prefer to be part of the solution or part of the problem?"
The guardsman moved to step up to Maze, but was barred by his compatriot's outstretched arm. He looked over to see his fellow guard consulting with someone over his comlink. "Let them in. Regent Fallon's orders," he confirmed.
"Thank you," Halcor rasped, bowing slightly to the guards.
* * *
The search of the dining hall was mercifully short and turned up nothing beyond the surveillance equipment Regent Fallon had installed in the Overseer's refit. Halcor stiffened his stance next to Regent Tambrin's repulsorchair, deja vu dancing at the back of his mind.
The meeting had gone as terribly as expected, the same arguments resuming with renewed heat and vigor. As Parta and Henoin went at one another across the room, a black and gold-clad functionary rushed into the room. Pulling Regent Fallon away from the table, the aide conferred for a moment with his Regent in hushed tones. Agitated, Fallon pulled his comlink off his belt and quickly spoke into it. Not even Borill, the most studied of body language and behavior, was able to determine the nature of the call.
Before Borill could bring the disruption to his peers' attention, Fallon bent to one of his fellow Traditionalist's ear, whispered something, and left the room with the aide in tow. Borill looked to Halcor in confusion, only to receive the same confused look from his fellow physician.
"What just happened," Maze whispered to Halcor.
"I'm not sure, except that it's likely nothing good," Halcor rasped back.
The debate continued with the Traditionalists occasionally aiming a barb at either the Restorationists or the Imperialists. Neither subfaction gave the Traditionalists the pleasure of a response. At least not for ten minutes.
It was then that Partas slammed his hand on the table, roaring, "Enough! This facade must - and will - end! We, the Imperial-aligned Regents of Sarrahban hereby withdraw from these so-called negotiations until such time as the Prime Regent will speak with us directly and in good faith!" At that, Partas and the assembled members of his faction rose and filed out of the room in dramatic fashion. Captain Fenral followed, casting a quick look of arrogant pride over her shoulder at the confusion sowed in the wake of the display.
As the remaining delegates whispered amongst themselves in paranoid concern, Halcor bent down to advise Regess Henoin. "Regess, there's something more to this than an attempt at political gravitas," he warned. "I recommend we request a recess until the next day to let tempers cool."
Henoin nodded in agreement and stood to address the assembly. "My countrymen, I move that we call a recess for the remainder of the day. Clearly with tempers running so hot, we will not reach an accord today," she said gravely.
"I agree," crackled the Prime Regent's response over the holocom. "All in favor?"
The vote was unanimous. "Very well, we shall recess until tomorrow at 0900," declared the Prime Regent. The elder statesman's image flickered and dissipated.
As the regents dispersed to their various suites, Henoin looked to her aides. "What is going on?"
"We're not sure," Borill advised. "We think this move by Partas may presage a major situation. We want to ensure your security and that of the other regents."
"A wise decision, gentlemen," she nodded. "We'll lock ourselves in our suites and arm ourselves as a precaution."
"We'll be here as well. We have no intention of letting anything happen to any of you," Maze reassured Henoin and her peers.
Before the delegation could securely ensconce themselves in Regess Henoin's suite, all three regents' comlinks crackled to life. "Report," Henoin ordered curtly.
"Regess Henoin, the barge has some to a full stop," a House Henoin troubleshooter replied urgently. "We're unable to get any answer from the bridge as to the reason."
A second agent's report cut in on Tambrin's own comlink. "Regent Tambrin - the Imperial Regents have retreated to their suites and doubled their guard. We recommend you retreat to a central location and secure yourselves there.
"Kerebast," the Regess scowled. "This is what we feared most."
"Arm yourselves, gentlemen," grunted Regent Tambrin, drawing a snub-nosed holdout blaster from a secret compartment in his repulsorchair.
"Maze, take Zed and the regents into the suite and lock it down. Don't let anyone in unless we signal you by comlink," ordered Halcor.
"Copy that," Maze replied, herding Tambrin, Tolik, and Henoin into the suite as members of each regent's guard contingent sprinted to their positions.
A pair of red and silver liveried guardsmen flanked the suite door as Halcor, Kakk, and Borill drew their own weapons. Halcor glanced at Borill's weapon of choice. "What is that?"
"Espo sound pistol," Borill responded quietly. "I picked it up a while back on my homeworld. It may not look like much, but it can do the job. Just don't get caught in front of it."
Halcor knelt behind a small sculpture in the garden, looking toward the cargo bay doors across the garden walk. Borill hunkered down opposite him behind another sculpture with Kakk crouched down behind. They didn't have long to wait as the noise of blasterfire echoed back up from the cargo bay. The blast doors slid open and smoke wafted out as several House Fallon crewmen backed out, firing all the way.
Imperial stormtroopers began to advance through the cargo bay, firing in return. "Fight for your lives," Borill yelled over the din. "Fight!" Taking aim, he caught several troopers in his pistol's cone of effect. The sonic blast overloaded their helmets' audio receivers, forcing them to drop their blasters and clutch their heads. Seizing the moment, guardsmen and crew alike cut them down with blasterfire.
Lying on the ground, peeking around the corner of the sculpture Borill sheltered behind, Kakk added a few ion bolts to the fray, causing other troopers to jump out of the way. The tiny scavenger cursed his luck, but kept firing, hoping he wouldn't be noticed through the fog of battle.
Despite these early victories, the battle was not one-sided. A guardsman clad in House Tambrin blue and silver fell back, a smoking hole in the chestplate of his armor. Seeing this, Halcor holstered his blaster, hefted his trauma pack, and made ready to dash to the guard's aid. "Cover me," he called to Borill and Kakk.
Borill did a double-take as Halcor raced ahead, dodging through the Imperial fire. Fearing he would catch his friend in a crossfire, he held back. Even Kakk held his fire - and his breath. Halcor quickly grabbed the downed soldier under his arms and dragged him out of harm's way. As he did so, Regess Henoin and her personal bodyguard opened fire from the doorway of her suite.
With his patient behind cover, Halcor deftly scanned his charge's chest. Pulling off the damaged chestplate, he applied antiseptic spray and a painkiller to the burned area before covering it with a field dressing. Before he could draw his blaster again, the Ubese medic witnessed crewman crumple from a blaster hit to the neck.
Frantically packing up his kit, Halcor made ready to dash back in. As he broke from cover, he saw a flash, felt a searing sensation, and then darkness enveloped him. "Cover me," Borill ordered the nearest guardsman. "I'm going in for my friend."
"Aye," the guardsman, a grizzled veteran in House Tolik red and gray.
His compatriot, a young woman, fired a round and advanced on Borill's left. "Get him clear! I'm going for the crewman!"
Shouldering the trauma kit, Borill grabbed Halcor by the back of his tunic and dragged him out of the crossfire. The young guardswoman crawled toward the stricken crewman but stopped halfway before backing up. It was clear nothing could be done for him.
Unsure of the severity of his friend's wound, Borill crouched down and grabbed for a medscanner; he was stopped by someone gripping his shoulder.
"Here, let me help you get him to safety," Regess Henoin said calmly.
"Kakk, take this and go," Borill said handing the trauma kit off to the Jawa. Kakk grabbed the shoulder strap and quickly started dragging the medical kit into the suite as Henoin's bodyguard gave cover fire. The doctor and the noblewoman quickly dragged Halcor's unconscious form through the doorway and out of the free fire zone.
With the door sealed, Borill slumped against the far wall, Halcor lying prone next to him. Without a word, Zed quickly knelt on Halcor's other side, scanning the injured physician. "Do you require any medical aid, Doctor Borill," the droid asked.
"No, just - just help him and I'll do what I can," Borill replied, rolling to his knees. A quick scan revealed all either medic or droid needed to know. The blaster bolt had caught Halcor in his own armor's chestplate, and while the burns were minor, the impact was enough to knock him out. Borill breathed a sign of relief. It was bad enough dealing with battlefield medicine as a psychiatrist, but losing a friend in the process would have been unbearable.
* * *
Halcor slowly became aware of a conversation going on across the room from him. It brought back a faint memory of childhood, drifting off to sleep in his room as voices drifted in from down the hallway as someone - a parent perhaps - entertained friends. At first he took comfort in the warm almost remembrance. Then another voice, this one closer, mechanical, drowned out the distant conversation.
"Doctor Halcor, can you hear me? Doctor Halcor?"
Halcor's head swam as he struggled to wake up. As he did, he winced at a stinging, burning pain across his chest. Breathing a bit more heavily through his breath mask, he propped himself up on his elbows and observed a patch of spray bacta on his chest, glistening white in the dimmed lights of the suite corner he was in. Halcor looked around to find he was on a stretcher with Zed kneeling near him.
"You have sustained a minor blaster burn. Please lie still," Zed ordered, gently pushing his patient back onto the stretcher.
Halcor, knowing he had the potential to be the worst of patients, relented, saying only, "Ow."
Maze quietly sidled up to Halcor's other side. "You gave us a scare, doc," he whispered as his compatriots continued their discussion at the holotable. "Good thing you had that armor on underneath your uniform. It's got a pretty good hole punched in it, but Kakk can fix it, good as new."
Kakk paused his work to offer Halcor a thumbs up, then returned to patching the damaged armor.
"Get some rest. I'll be back," Maze whispered to Halcor, patting him on the shoulder. The smugger then rejoined his fellow Rebels at the table.
"I will not be cowed by this turn of events," Regess Henoin announced grimly. "If the Empire wants a fight, I will give it to them, even if I must go underground."
"Here, here," Regent Tambrin agreed. "This cannot stand. Prime Regent, I officially request we discuss the expulsion of Partas and his faction from the Parliament upon our return to Sarrahban."
"I concur with your sentiment, Tambrin," Prime Regent Nessus' blue-tinged figure stated. "But it may not be as easy as that."
A second figure on the holotable nodded in agreement. "Indeed," the Mon Calamari officer grated. "The Empire is most likely preparing to strike. Fleet Admiral Tzenkens will be quick to gather a strike force at Thustra; she'll be looking to make an intimidating spectacle of her arrival. In anticipation of this, I've requested additional support."
"So what kind of help can we expect, Captain Arqesh," Maze said, stepping in from the shadows.
The Mon Cal officer gestured off-screen and a graphic appeared showing the location of several ships en route to Sarrahban. "In addition to the corvette Entrenchant, the High Command has dispatched SpecForce Squad 57, a pair of tacticians and staff, and a flight of fighters. Several transports are also on the way to aid in evacuating Rebel partisans and their families in addition to the carbonite-packed nycillin reserves."
Maze gaped incredulously at the Rebellion's response. "You're kidding me - one corvette, a handful of snubfighters, and some transports? Not to mention one squad of infantry? What can we do with that?!"
"There is only so much we can do now that the High Command has fled Yavin. Their primary concern is finding somewhere to set up a new base, Captain Cooper," groused Arqesh. "We do not have the luxury of sending in a small armada to defend one planet from an Imperial invasion. While your medical unit has performed admirably in its mission to secure the aid we need, the Rebel Alliance must still carefully weigh its options. Unfortunately, those options run the gamut from bad to worse."
Maze was taken aback. He had heard Scarif and Yavin were hard-fought, but to think the Rebellion was on the run after such daring victories was hardly believable. "So what's our part in all this," he queried.
"While you lack your own ship there, you are to pilot the transport carrying the partisans and nycillin reserves," Arqesh noted. A new graphic, this one of a blocky, HT-2200 Corellian freighter blossomed into view.
Maze tried desperately to hide his apprehension. "Uh, please tell me that's a ship and not - "
"Oh, it's a ship alright," interrupted Regent Lu Heitman. "The Harvest Moon is a sturdy girl and one of the gems of my trade fleet. She'll get you where you need to go."
"And that place is?"
"A Rebel safeworld elsewhere in Sumitra sector. The coordinates will be provided by a member of Squad 57," Arqesh replied, sucking in a gargling breath. "Time is short and we have much to do. May the Force be with us all."
* * *
Captain Fenral seethed inwardly as the disarmed remnant of her trooper squads boarded their shuttles to return in disgrace to Thustra. Two lines of battle-worn stormtroopers, hands on top of their helmeted heads, shuffled onto the transports. Fenral watched them embark in silent rage. "I can guarantee that we will return in force, Regent Partas," she huffed. "This is only a minor setback in the Empire's grand plans for your homeworld."
"I would hope so," Partas sneered. "But what guarantee do I have that it won't be a repeat of today's performance?"
"You will see when we arrive," Fenral replied icily. "I recommend you and your fellow regents have your forces at the ready. The Empire does not tolerate failure, especially from those it would consider allies."
The raven-haired officer turned and stalked onto the nearest shuttle. Partas himself seethed at the Imperial's admonishment, then turned and departed toward his own transport under the watchful eyes of House Fallon's guards.
Once she cleared the boarding ramp's threshold, Fenral brought her comlink to her lips. "Pilot, send a coded transmission to Doctor Nakiim aboard the frigate IR-13. Advise him I have found a suitable test candidate for his project."
* * *
FADE OUT TO A STARRY BACKGROUND
END CREDITS FADE IN AND OUT OVER STARS
CUE "STARKILLER" BY SAMUEL KIM
Star Wars: Medstar-4
Episode I: Ship of Fools (Part Two)
Based on
"Star Wars" and characters created by George Lucas
"Ship of Fools" by David Ackerson
The Star Wars roleplaying games by West End Games,
Wizards of the Coast, Fantasy Flight Games, and Edge Studio
Campaign concept by Dale Meier
Inspired by "Battle Surgeons" and "Jedi Healer"
by Michael Reeves and Steve Perry
and "Right Hand Man" by Lydia Kang
CAST
Z2-1FM ("Zed") - Paul Ghanouni
Maze Cooper - Howard Bunyard
Dr. Emery Halcor - Jason Dulin
Dr. Borill of Lorrd - Forest Pavel
Kakk - Philip Spidle
Supporting Cast/Gamemaster - Dale Meier
Star Wars is © and TM 2025 Lucasfilm Ltd.
Story text and Medstar-4 masthead design © 2025 Dale Meier
"Ship of Fools" by David Ackerman originally appeared in Vortext Magazine #3
(Winter 1992). While not a traditional adventure, it did provide a
framework for a political and intrigue-fueled mini-campaign five years before
the Lords of the Expanse boxed set was released.
