Star Wars: X-Wing: Lusankya - Chapter Three
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Star Wars characters except those of Akiba Muune, Lieutenant Dysune Tayib, and Captain Falco Avin. All other characters belong to Lucasfilm and their respective authors. I am not making a profit out of this story, it is only written for fans to enjoy.
Summary: Tycho Celchu, son of Alderaan, is sent out to infiltrate Courscant with the highest rating of not coming back alive. This is the recount of his capture aboard Lusankya and his subsequent return to the New Republic under the heavy eye of being a possible spy.
Author’s Warning: This fic is rated R for heavy graphic violence, torture, and imprisonment.
Roughly two weeks had passed since he arrived on Coruscant, but Tycho didn’t really pay attention to the time that has passed. He had found a lot of interesting information regarding the whole planet’s defense and other systems. The orbital solar collection mirrors were by far the most interesting, in his opinion. He figured that if the Alliance were to take over the planet, they would use one of them to conjure up one of the biggest fast-moving storms on the planet. It would be the perfect cover for fighters and various assault troops to land.
So far, all the information was shipped out by various routes, his contact, Ella Westerly, gave him within the past days, each day even each hour, a new route and code, so that the information wouldn’t be read and intercepted by Imperial sources. Now, he sat in his little hotel room, near the platform where his TIE fighter was docked, his hands folded back behind his head and him resting on a semi-comfortable bed.
Coruscant was a bit contrast in comparison from where he was raised, on the outskirts of the capital Aldera on Alderaan. He had been to the citywide planet before, only a couple of times during his time in the Imperial Academy, but he hadn’t stayed for such a long time, not like this. Compared to the bustling city, the outskirts of Aldera was like a farmland, hell, it was a farmland.
Closing his bright blue eyes, Tycho shifted slightly on the bed, letting his thoughts wander. He listened to the monotonous drone of the traffic outside the window of his room, occasionally disturbed by a whining beep from a skiff or a transport, which probably went into the wrong lane of the various lanes of traffic. It hadn’t been a minute with his eyes closed when a beeping from his comlink alerted him and he sat up, blinking away the sleepiness in his eyes.
The beeping continued and he fished out his comlink and activated it. “Captain Tynnia speaking.”
“Captain, this is Ella Westerly of the Daily Alliance. I would like to offer a proposal for you. Can you meet me by the booth of the snappers in five minutes? Bring your things with you,” Ella’s precise clipped voice spoke with an underlying tone of warning in them.
“Sure thing. Be there in three, sweetheart,” he added with a slightly roguish smile on his face then shut the link off. Since the weeks he had arrived he had been getting into his cover part more and more, sometimes spending time at various local tap cafés and talking with the young women over there, but always on the look out for any signs of covert activity that he could report to the Alliance when he got back.
He slid off his bed and quickly packed his things into the small duffel bag that he had brought with him. That was a coded message he had received from Ella for him, he was going back to the Alliance. Obviously the information he had shipped out in the various routes was enough for the Alliance to prepare an attack on the citywide planet. Scouring his room once more, he did a quick check to see if he left anything behind that if Imps were to find would be able to trace him and identify him. Seeing nothing that would jeopardize his safety he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and walked out the door to meet Ella.
* * *
Wedge stretched slightly in the tap café that was aboard the New Hope, orbiting in the Milagro System. Stifling another yawn of weariness he blinked and looked across to the table where Luke was staring down at a mug of café, his eyes concentrated on something. “Luke, you okay? You’ve been spacing out ... ”
“Huh? Oh,” Luke snapped out of his musings and gave him a wan smile, “just thinking. It feels weird that there’s nothing to do at the moment. I just wish-” He stopped talking just as Wedge sat up, spotting Janson and Hobbie walking over to them, Hobbie’s mournful face even droopier than usual. Even the ever so happy-go-lucky prankster Janson was looking grim and serious.
“Commander,” Janson greeted formally, saluting both him and Luke then handed him a sheet of paper. “Those are our transfer orders ... ”
“Wait, you’re transferring out of Rogue Squadron?” Wedge found his voice full of suspicion and anxiety as he scanned the orders.
“After our mission, Commander,” Janson replied, his voice not at all joking or giving any hints of a joke, just grim seriousness. “The rest of the squadron is also considering ... Plourr wants to go back to Eiattu to continue to help her people rebuild the planet, Feylis and Avan want to settle down with each other, Colonel Fel feels that he can pry more information from General Cracken about his wife, Wynssa Starflare, and Nrin ... ” there was a bit of hesitation in Janson’s voice and Wedge knew why. On their last mission, Nrin’s companion and fellow Rogue pilot Ibtisam had perished, leaving him distraught and alone.
“And you two?” he just still couldn’t believe that his squadron was falling apart so quickly. It seemed that their last mission to retrieve Sate Pestage had affected everyone somehow ...
“On those orders,” Hobbie nodded to the two sheets of data that he held in his hand, “the NR wants us as trainee instructors for the ‘next generation of future fighter pilots’ as they call it.”
Glancing down at the sheets he saw that they were signed by both the recently promoted General Salm and Admiral Ackbar. He heaved a weary sigh. This couldn’t be happening ... his squadron that he had pulled the best pilots and molded them into an awesome fighting force to be reckoned with, pulled them through some narrow margins of victories, was falling apart with this order sheet signed by the head of the New Republic Navy ...
“I’m sorry Commander-“ Hobbie started but Wedge shook his head.
“No ... ” he hesitated then looked at them, “I knew something like this was going to happen ... just not so soon. I expected them, as soon as I started to form Rogue Squadron that they would take the lot of you and pull you all away for you to go off into different branches. As soon as we’re done here, then you can tell the rest that Rogue Squadron has been disbanded.”
Three pairs of shocked eyes stared back at him and he could see that Luke was also startled by the news. It comes down to this ... but I guess it’s for the best ...
* * *
Drumming his fingers on a table near the booth of the snappers Tycho try to do his best not to look too impatient. Ella was already ten minutes late and she was usually punctual. He half wondered if she had been caught by imperial agents but his other half told him that she was too good to be caught by agents. Then where was she?
“Sorry,” a hasty apology was spoken overhead when Ella sat down in front of him, looking a bit winded and hurried, not at all like her usual composed self.
“What happened?” he asked, giving her once-over.
“We’ve had a problem with the internal service, here is your datacard for getting out of here. You’re still using your name but we’ve changed a few statistics to match up what Farell Tynnia would have done during his two-week leave on Coruscant,” she handed him a datacard then another satchel.
“And this?” he whispered just as some Imperial officers were passing by, chatting mildly to themselves.
“Providing if you get caught by Customs you can show them this. I’m not going to tell you what’s in them, but you will have to leave now. After you get past the Golan Defense Stations, head your coordinates to these,” she handed him another data card, “then make three jumps and you’ll be back at Alliance headquarters. Base One is expecting you to be back later tonight.”
“Roger that,” he nodded then tipped off a quick salute, but then held out his hand to which Ella took and he shook with a firm grip, “thank you Ms. Westerly for your time and consideration.”
“I’m glad that you answered my questions Captain Tynnia, good luck on your journey back,” Ella winked at him as he got up, slinging the two duffel bags over his shoulder and gathering his datacards with his free hand.
“Thanks,” he called back as he made his way over to Customs.
* * *
Sitting himself into the cockpit of his eyeball, he glanced over the readings his fighter gave as he mused over what had happened in Customs. The guy that had processed him in had also processed him out, and raised an eyebrow at the second satchel that Ella had given to him. Even he was startled by its contents and almost lost himself to a blush that was threatening to rise on his face. As soon as he got into his eyeball he had stuffed the horrid items in the far reaches of the cockpit, so he wouldn’t have to see any of its contents on his way home.
“This is Captain Tynnia, requesting permission to pass through the Golan Defense Stations,” he keyed his comlink and spoke in a drawling voice of a person that had enjoyed his stay to the fullest.
“Permission granted Captain, have a safe flight back to your convoy,” the controller at the Golan Defense Stations replied as he pushed more power into his throttle and shot away from the citywide planet.
He flew out of the reaches of Coruscant's gravity wells and keyed the first of four coordinates for his nav computer to calculate the hyperspace jump when there was a sudden bleeping.
He glanced at the bleeping and it suddenly registered in his mind ...
Tycho suddenly was knocked forward as a gigantic wave of crackling blue electricity slammed into him from behind, knocking out all his systems. Sithspawn ... he cursed silently as he glanced at the controls. He noticed that the self-destruct system was also short circuited, leaving him unable to kill himself.
A clanging noise from above made him look up to see an Imperial Star Destroyer looming over his tiny TIE fighter, and a crane bringing his dead eyeball up to its hanger bay. Looking out of the view port as his eyeball was rising to level, he saw many stormtroopers with blasters pointed at him and he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t let them get him alive ...
The hissing of his fighter being opened made his muscles tense up and he turned around to fend off his attacks when a blinding pain from behind his neck made his world turn black. No ... can’t let ...
* * *
“Take him away,” an icy cold voice ordered. Her mismatched blue-red eyes glittered with a maniacal, but calculated look. Tycho Celchu you’re going to be a new pawn in my game ...
* * *
Author’s Notes: Ominous music plays ... Hee hee…how did you all like that chapter? I know it’s short and to the point and doesn’t have too much detail but I want to get to the good parts! So stay tooned for the next chapter where Wedge is still thunderstruck from the squadron’s break up to the beginnings of Tycho’s hellish life at Lusankya. There’s also going to be a new character that I forgot to add to the character profile, her name is Grania. For those who have read the comics, you may remember her as the lady that killed Admiral Lon Isoto with that drink in Mandatory Retirement.
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