Recovery Run

The Avenger’s CIC hummed with subdued activity as the ship docked at a section of Ta’charin dry-docks, unofficially referred to as ‘blue-docks’, the display revealing the sprawling shipyard’s skeletal frames under the planet’s ringed horizon. Sonya sat at the tactical station, the strange surge within her had quieted to a whisper, but her piercing sapphire eyes still scanned the displays, her unbidden awareness hovering like a shadow. Greg sat in the command chair, his cybernetic eye dimmed as he reviewed the after-action reports, the warmth of their bond from the observation deck grounding him.

The comms beeped, and Martines, the Communications Officer, announced, “Incoming secure link from the Inquisitor—Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

Greg nodded. “Patch her through. Summon all senior staff to CIC.”

The hologram flickered to life, Thrawn’s blue-skinned figure materializing, her red eyes sharp with focus. “Captain Westner, give me a summary of the Ta’charin tournament and this… multiverse incident.”

Greg leaned forward, his voice measured. “Ma’am, the tournament was a Ta’charin rite to decide who the Ta’charins would side with—we prevailed, but the Emperor was a sore loser and launched an attack. The fold drive spiked as we tried to withdraw, pulling us to another reality. We encountered Commander Narissa Shepard of the SSV Normandy, fought a ‘Reaper’ dreadnought.  We managed to recover some interesting technology from it.  On an idea that Lt. Blade came up with we used a resonance method to return. Data attached, including Thanix cannon specs we traded for our Ion schematics.”

Thrawn’s lips thinned as she skimmed the summary report, her gaze shifting to Sonya. “Lieutenant, your resonance idea was resourceful.” She glanced at John, recalling their earlier debate. “It seems I chose wisely in placing you in command, Captain.” Her eyes returned to Sonya. “Anything to add, Lieutenant?”

Sonya’s fists clenched subtly, her mind flashing to Raiden—Uncle Jim—and his cryptic warnings. “Yes, ma’am. We encountered a being claiming to be a god, naming Carthain as one too. It may not be relevant, but I know you value all intel obtained.”

Thrawn raised an eyebrow as John cast a skeptical glance at Sonya. “Did he now?”

Sonya shifted, a touch sheepish. “Yes, ma’am. I thought it worth mentioning.”

Thrawn nodded. “Noted. We’ll explore that later. The alliance is secured—Ta’charin has joined the United Rebel Front, and your efforts are commended.” The display shifted to a small station on the edge of Imperial space and the image of a redheaded woman. “A deep-cover URF agent, Stephanie, has broken silence. Rescued by Privateers she is at Westerland Station—a smuggler haven—she reports vital intel on an Imperial project, along with a prisoner, Dr. Wilhelm. Lt. Blade, assemble 2nd Lt. Marrow, Gunnery Sgt. Hunter, and Lt. Kerrigan to retrieve them. The information Stephanie must be vital for her to break cover.”

Sonya nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Thrawn’s red eyes lingered on Sonya. “Coordinates are transmitted. Move swiftly—Carthain’s agents may already be on her trail. Captain, keep me updated on repairs; I need the Avenger operational soon. Dismissed.”

The hologram faded, and Greg turned to Sonya. “Be careful—Westerland’s a rough spot, and we don’t know what’s waiting for you.”

Sonya met his gaze, a rare warmth in her eyes. “We’ll manage.”

The combat shuttle hummed steadily as it streaked through hyperspace toward Westerland Station, the blue and multicolored swirl of the tunnel casting an eerie glow across the cramped interior. Sonya sat near the front, the harness pressing her battle armor against her chest, the faint ache in her ribs, a lingering echo of Ta’charin. Across from her, Alex Marrow fidgeted with a data pad, his lean frame taut with tension, while James Hunter checked a light repeater’s magazine, his broad shoulders dominating the seat. Katherine ‘Kat’ Kerrigan, her dark green eyes scanning the shuttle’s systems, leaned against the bulkhead, her presence quiet yet watchful.

Sonya broke the silence, her tone casual yet warm. “Long ride ahead. Might as well share our specialties since this is first time some of us have officially teamed up. I’m trained in close-quarters battle and decent at hand-to-hand, thanks to a bit of enhanced strength. Alex, you’re up.”

Alex shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m trained as a field medic and have served on a couple of missions with Sonya.  Uh, well… I’ve got some knowledge of mystic arts. Mostly defensive spells—barriers, wards—and a bit of healing. People scoff when I mention it, think it’s nonsense.”

Sonya leaned forward, a grin tugging at her lips. “Nonsense? I always wondered how you seemed to be able to pull off some wild field triage, Alex. Don’t let the skeptics get to you—I’ve got your back.”

James chuckled, slapping the light repeater’s magazine into place. “You’ll get no scoffing from me lad. I guess I’m the ranged heavy hitter—expert with heavy weapons and explosives. If it goes boom or punches through armor, I’m your man. Speaking of punching, Sonya, don’t downplay that hand-to-hand or your strength—saw you toss that training dummy like a ragdoll in training, and at Ta’charin? You were unstoppable!”

Alex nodded, a smirk breaking through. “And don’t forget the dry-docks—tearing through those Imps in CQB was pure force. Own it, Sonya.”

Sonya waved them off, leaning back with a sheepish grin. “Oh, come on—it’s just basic close-quarters and a touch of strength from the super-soldier program. Nothing to brag about.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Basic? That’s like calling a supernova a sparkler, Sonya. I hope you don’t ask people to open jars for you!”

Alex rolled his eyes toward Kathrine. “She always undersells, but trust us, Kathrine—she’s a force.”

Kathrine smirked faintly, adjusting a small device. “I’m sure she is. I handle tech and stealth—get in, get out, leave no trace. Sniper training covers long-range precision.  Most people call me Kat.”

Sonya nodded, the team’s encouragement warming her despite her modesty. “Solid mix, then. Let’s see how we fare at Westerland.”

The shuttle vibrated slightly, the crew exchanging nods, their diverse skills forging a tentative unity as the smuggler haven drew near.

A day and a half later the combat shuttle shuddered as it dropped out of hyperspace, the swirling blue and multicolored tunnel giving way to the gritty sprawl of Westerland Station—a chaotic hub of flickering neon signs and rusting hulls on the edge of Imperial space. Sonya unstrapped herself, her battle armor clinking softly as she checked her blaster assault rifle and holstered blaster pistol, the faint ache in her ribs barely a dull spur. Across from her, Alex adjusted his data pad, muttering a ward under his breath, while James slung his light repeater over his shoulder, a grenade belt around his hip. Kat, her dark green eyes sharp, scanned the shuttle’s exit with a sniper rifle in hand, her tech kit humming faintly.

The shuttle docked with a metallic groan at a grimy landing pad, the air thick with the stench of fuel and desperation. Sonya led the team out, her voice low. “Stephanie and Wilhelm are in a Privateer safehouse—two levels down, Sector 7. Stay sharp—Carthain’s agents could be lurking.”

They navigated the narrow side corridors, the station’s clamor of haggling merchants and clanging repairs masking their steps. Alex’s ward shimmered faintly, a defensive shimmer around each of them, as James scanned for threats, his heavy tread deliberate. Kat moved silently, her sniper scope sweeping ahead.

A sudden explosion rocked the corridor, debris raining down, Alex’s wards faring and collapsing as the debris hit them.  Masked figures emerged from the shadows—Imperial recovery agents, their armor glinting with Nathal insignia. “Neutralize them!” their leader barked, raising a plasma rifle. Blaster fire erupted, ricocheting off the walls.

Sonya dove behind a crate, her instincts surging as she swung her blaster assault rifle to her shoulder, returning fire with precise bursts. “Ambush! Alex, shield! James, suppress them!” Her voice cut through the chaos, the surge amplifying her focus.

Alex chanted quickly, a barrier flaring to life, deflecting a plasma bolt. James unleashed his repeater, its roar drowning out the enemy’s advance, forcing them to scatter. Kat ducked into a side alcove, her rifle cracking as an agent fell.

The leader snarled, signaling a second wave. “Push them back—the Emperor won’t tolerate interference!” From the side corridors, a flanking unit of Imperials emerged, their blasters trained on the team’s exposed flank, cutting off their retreat.

The corridor trembled under the Imperial flanking fire, blaster bolts searing the walls as Sonya crouched behind the crate, her blaster assault rifle spitting precise bursts to cover the team. The surge within her pulsed, sharpening her focus amid the chaos. “Push into Sector 7—the safehouse is deeper in!” she shouted, her voice slicing through the din, aware of agents lurking ahead.

Alex chanted rapidly, his ward straining under the flanking assault, the shimmer flickering as it absorbed several bolts. “It’s holding, but they’re closing in!” he called, sweat beading on his brow. He reinforced the barrier, its glow waning but resolute.

James grinned fiercely, lobbing a grenade toward the flanking unit. The explosion rocked the corridor, killing several agents and scattering the survivors, clearing space. “Take that, Imps! Sonya, pull back to the side corridor—I’ve got you covered!” His light repeater roared, pinning the main group as debris clattered down.

Kat slipped into the shadows, her sniper rifle cracking with lethal precision, dropping an agent mid-charge. “No time—push deeper into Sector 7!” she called out, her dark green eyes scanning as she adjusted her tech kit, jamming Imperial comms to sow confusion. “On me!” Sonya barked.

The team advanced, Sonya leading with controlled bursts, picking off injured and stunned agents. The air grew thick with tension as they plunged into Sector 7, the corridors narrowing into a labyrinth of rusted pipes and flickering lights. Shadows shifted ahead, hinting at Imperial scouts, their presence a constant threat, the distant echo of boots and hushed commands fueling their urgency. One lunged out of the shadows with a vibroknife, its hum slicing the air. The surge flared, guiding Sonya as she parried with her rifle, then drove forward, slamming the agent into the wall with bone-jarring force. An upward palm thrust crushed his jaw, snapping his head back against the metal with a resounding clang, she finished him with a quick burst. They pressed on, the tension mounting with every step.

They reached a rusted hatch marked with a faded “7-Safe,” the safehouse beyond, but as they approached, an Imperial shield generator hummed to life, projecting a translucent barrier across the entrance. Agents behind it raised plasma rifles, their leader barking, “Hold the line—reinforcements are coming!” The shield absorbed Sonya’s initial blaster volley, forcing the team to adapt.

Sonya signaled quickly. “Kat, scan for the generator’s weak spot! Alex, ward up—James, ready a charge!” Kat’s tech kit beeped, her sniper scope zooming in. “Got it, power source exposed on the left—ready to take it out!” Alex’s ward flared, shielding the team as James primed an explosive, hurling it with precision. The blast cracked the shield, sparks flying as the barrier faltered. Sonya fired through the gap, dropping an agent, while Kat sniped the generator, shattering it in a burst of energy.

The shield collapsed, and the team surged forward, Sonya’s blaster rifle blazing clearing the remaining agents. Inside the safehouse, Stephanie—an athletic woman with red hair tied back in a ponytail—gripped a blaster pistol, her eyes crackling with energy, while Wilhelm, a gaunt older scientist, huddled in a corner, data pads clutched in shackled hands. Imperial agents burst through a side entrance, cornering them. “Hands up!” the lead agent snarled, plasma rifle raised. “Lead, we’ve found them—securing now.”

Stephanie raised her hands, energy flickering, just as Sonya kicked the hatch open, her blaster rifle blazing, cutting down the agents. “Alex, shield them! James, clear that side!” Alex’s ward enveloped Stephanie and Wilhelm, deflecting a shot, while James lobbed a grenade into the side room, the blast followed by cries as he unleashed a volley into the breach.

Kat sniped an agent through the gap, her voice steady. “Flank cleared—move!” Sonya rushed in, her pistol dropping the last guard, the surge steadying her aim. She turned to Stephanie. “Stephanie? Thrawn sent us.”

Stephanie nodded, hauling Wilhelm to his feet. “Good timing—the privateers are holding off another agent group.” The team formed up around them, retreating as the echo of pursuit grew louder from the depths of Sector 7.

Suddenly, a massive figure crashed through a bulkhead—his armored form towering, eyes glowing like Stephanie’s. “You’re not leaving with them!” he roared. Sonya and James opened fire, but to their shock, only the light repeater rounds grazed the fabric around his armor, the blaster bolts deflecting harmlessly.

Wilhelm grinned as Stephanie shouted, “It’s a Tank Man! His eyes are the only vulnerable spot—target them!” The Tank Man grinned, backhanding Sonya with a crack that split her armor and broke her ribs, sending her crashing into a wall, the impact fracturing more ribs. He turned, his eyes crackling as strange orbs of energy formed, rushing toward the team. Stephanie’s eyes flared, countering with similar orbs that clashed, but the edge of them destroyed Sonya’s rifle and shredded part of her armor. “The Emperor would prefer you alive.” he sneered

Sonya struggled to her feet, drawing her vibroblade with a click, the Tank Man advancing menacingly. “What are you going to do with that toothpick?”

Kat’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she faced the necessity. Her dark green eyes focused as she projected a psychic bolt into the Tank Man’s mind. He recoiled, clutching his head, blood trickling from his ears. Kat gestured, her mind partially seizing control of his body, forcing him to his knees, blood dripping from her nose and lip as she strained, her control breaking as he turned toward her, eyes blazing.

That brief window was enough. Sonya’s piercing sapphire eyes glowed softly for a fraction of a second, the surge guiding her as she lunged, driving her vibroblade through the Tank Man’s glowing eye. His halo distortion surged, triggering a feedback burst that obliterated his head in a shower of energy and blood. The team exhaled, the Tank Man’s body crumpling as Sonya dropped to her knees, clutching her chest.

Alex rushed to her, hands glowing with a healing incantation, pressing them to her chest to mend her injuries. “Hold on, Sonya!” he urged.

James glanced at the corpse, stunned. “What the hell was that?”

Stephanie shoved Wilhelm forward. “Damn it, that was a Tank Man. They won’t send just one to reclaim him—move!”

Kat took charge, wiping the blood from her nose and lip. “Alex, get Sonya mobile. James, cover our six. We’re moving as soon as she’s up!”

The team sprinted through Sector 7’s twisting corridors, the echo of pursuit thundering behind as alarms blared across Westerland Station. Sonya limped slightly, Alex’s healing incantation easing but not fully mending her cracked ribs, her blaster pistol drawn as she led the way. Stephanie hauled Wilhelm, his shackled hands clutching data pads, while James covered the rear with his light repeater, its barrel still warm. Kat, blood trickling from her nose, scanned ahead with her sniper rifle, her PSI senses prickling.

A reinforced blast door loomed ahead, the shuttle bay just beyond, but an Imperial officer—armored and wielding a plasma lance—stepped into their path, flanked by agents crouched behind crates and boxes. “The chase ends here!” he snarled, activating a personal shield that shimmered with energy. The agents opened fire, forcing the team to scatter for cover.

Sonya ducked behind a rusted console, returning fire as bolts sparked off his shield. “Alex, protect the packages! James, Kat, clear the agents—I’ve got the lance!” she ordered, her voice steady despite the pain.

Alex chanted, his ward flaring around Stephanie and Wilhelm, absorbing a stray plasma burst. James lobbed a grenade, the explosion scattering agents as Kat’s rifle cracked, dropping one mid-advance. The officer charged, his lance thrusting toward Sonya. Adrenaline surged as she dodged, rolling away from his follow-up swipe, the lance grazing her pistol and sparking it out. She dropped the broken weapon, flicking on her vibroblade as the pain faded under the rush.

The officer chuckled darkly. “Surrender, Blade. You’re out of your league.”

Sonya flipped the vibroblade in her hand, her expression turning predatory. “I was about to say the same.” She charged, parrying his next thrust, the plasma melting part of her blade as it shorted out his lance. Sliding inside his guard, she grabbed his wrist with a savage twist, snapping it and forcing him to drop the weapon. He howled, shoving with his energy shield, but Sonya braced against it, energy crackling along her forearm guard as she pushed him back.

Kat’s eyes narrowed, glowing faintly as she lashed out with a psychic stab, the officer recoiling in pain, his shield sputtering under the strain. Sonya seized the opening, throwing a punch with all her strength. Her knuckles cracked, fingers slashed as her fist smashed through his visor and into his face, partially internally decapitating him with the sheer force of the blow. He collapsed in a heap, and James finished the stragglers with a repeater burst.

Sonya steadied her breathing, the rush flowing through her as she clutched her damaged hand—why did it feel so good to use my strength? The others stared, shocked, until blaster bolts whizzed past, impacting the blast door.

“Move—shuttle’s open!” Kat urged, her voice strained. The team rushed through the blast door, piling into the shuttle as fire chased them. Sonya sealed the hatch, collapsing into a seat, the rush fading as the shuttle lifted off. A Nathal Destroyer exited hyperspace, launching fighters, but the shuttle jumped to safety before they could close the range.

Inside the shuttle, the hum of hyperspace steadied the air. Alex began bandaging Sonya’s hand as she talked, “We’ll be back on the Avenger in twenty, we can set up a secure link to the Inquisitor from there.”

Stephanie frowned, concerned. “Can’t we go directly to the Inquisitor?”

Sonya shook her head. “We don’t know her location, and the shuttle’s now past bingo—we’d never make it.”

Stephanie nodded. “Understood.”

The rush had faded, leaving the familiar hollow quiet. Sonya stared at the bulkhead for a moment longer than necessary, the ache in her ribs and hand settling in. Sonya turned to Alex, curious. “Can’t you use that healing spell again?”

Alex sighed, shaking his head. “I wish, but magic drains the user, especially keeping wards up under fire.”

Sonya shrugged. “Good to know. I’ll try not to get so banged up next time.”

Alex smirked. “Yeah, we’d all appreciate that.”

James leaned back, wiping sweat from his brow. “Sonya, that punch through the officer’s face? Pure beast mode—never seen anything like it!”

Alex chuckled, adjusting his data pad. “And the vibroblade finish? You turned him into a heap! We’d be toast without that.”

Sonya waved them off, a sheepish grin breaking through. “Oh, come on—it was just luck and a bit of strength from the super-soldier program. You guys were the real heroes—Alex, that ward saved us, and James, your grenade cleared the way. Kat, your PSI trick was clutch.”

Kat glanced at Stephanie, wiping blood from her nose. “So, you called that big guy a Tank Man? I’ve never seen a metahuman like that.”

Stephanie took a breath, her voice low. “It’s a new development. The Empire’s creating super-soldiers. That ‘good doctor’ there was part of the experiment.” She nodded toward Wilhelm, then looked at Sonya. “I need to talk to Grand Admiral Thrawn as soon as possible.”

A day and a half later, the shuttle touched down on the Avenger’s noisy main hangar deck, where Greg waited with two security guards. As the team descended, Stephanie took the data pads from Wilhelm, the guards quickly escorting him away. Greg approached, extending a hand as he yelled over the noise. “Stephanie, I’m Captain Gregory Westner. Grand Admiral Thrawn is on comms in CIC Briefing Room Two—follow me.”

Stephanie shook his hand, quickly raising her volume as well. “Thank you, Captain.”

Greg glanced at Sonya. “Lieutenant Blade, the Admiral wants your after-action report too.”

Sonya gave him a confused look, then nodded respectfully. “Yes, sir.”

Ten minutes later, in the dimly lit briefing room on the Avenger, docked at the Ta’charin dry-docks, Stephanie concluded her debrief, the holo display projecting grim images of failed tests. “...Estimates suggest 1 in 5,000 survive skin contact. Those who do gain increased strength, speed, durability, and the ability to release destructive molecular distortion energy orbs from their eyes. Their physiology shifts—taller, more muscular. A rare few develop unique abilities, prompting the Emperor’s ‘accelerated tests’.”

She gestured, small crystals forming in her palm. “I can secrete the catalyst from my pores, crystallizing in pure form. It was my escape plan, but the Privateers capturing the ship I was on made it unnecessary.”

She sealed the crystals in a container, then displayed URF and Imperial reports, marked with classifications. “The Emperor withheld the full ‘manual’ but I copied what I could. After the Ta’charin temple battle, he expanded test groups. We weren’t the only team—credits and resources are pouring in, but I don’t know why.”

Thrawn’s holographic image flickered. “The Emperor’s obsession with superweapons drives this—another experiment in his arsenal.”

Stephanie pointed to the display. “My section recently received detailed bioscans of the Avenger’s crew. The Emperor ordered comparisons to already known samples.  We guessed that he might be thinking of weaponizing it somehow.”

Deputy Secretary Alander’s hologram frowned, concerned, as Stephanie organized her data sheets. “Thank you, Stephanie.”

Greg’s expression mirrored Alander’s. “How did they get those bioscans so fast?”

Thrawn’s gaze was cool, calculating. “Too many Imperial agents have infiltrated our ranks. Counter-intelligence is stretched thin or following bad leads. From now on, all bioscans of ‘enhanced personnel’ go to me alone, via special code—every scan.”

Greg raised an eyebrow, masking unease. “Ma’am?”

Thrawn’s red eyes glinted, locking on him. “Lieutenant Kerrigan’s bioscan is missing again from the roster. I know of her abilities—I placed her with you to protect her. I distrust Admiral Seti’s dual role in intelligence and PSI Core.  He has little oversight and has been known to use heavy-handed tactics. While President Beaulieu and the Senate approve, they don’t seem to grasp the larger picture. We must win the war and the peace after.”

Greg and Sonya exchanged a glance. “I’ll inform Kat,” he said.

Thrawn nodded. “Good. Given these developments I will be deploying Lieutenants Blade and Kerrigan on more critical missions soon. Captain, you’ll get a replacement weapons officer for when Lt. Blade is pulled.”

Greg nodded, scanning the room. “Why did you request just Sonya and myself attend this debriefing?”

“You’ve proven yourselves at Ta’charin, and you are two of the few who understand the true stakes. We’ll brief Lt. Kerrigan, your Ta’charin team, and the Chief Medical Officer, but the circle stays small—need to know only.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Greg and Sonya replied in unison.

Sonya turned to Stephanie. “Any idea how many super-powered beings he’s developed?”

Stephanie shrugged. “Unsure—my section was R&D. At the processing facility before my last test, they had about 100 V1s in various stages. It takes a month of training and treatments to mature; They also need rest cycles as overexertion kills them.”

Greg looked at Thrawn. “What’s the plan?”

“Stephanie stays aboard, working in the unused labs, using conventional methods. We’ll take Wilhelm, a data copy, and crystal samples to command, framing her research as Reflex Energy and radiation studies.  Assign her quarters in the command section that are close to the labs.”

Stephanie’s surprise flickered. “I’d hoped for some downtime.  The things I’ve seen and done…”

Thrawn’s tone softened. “I regret that I cannot give you that yet Stephanie, but we are racing a threat with dire consequences. Take leave with the crew but keep a security detail.”

Stephanie nodded, masking her disappointment. “Yes, ma’am.”

Sonya faced Thrawn. “What do I tell my Nathal handlers? They’ll know Stephanie’s here, and we know other spies are aboard.”

“After this, tell them you’ve been informed of Stephanie’s research role on the ship and you have been assigned to assist and secure it. They will no doubt want you to report anything valuable in her discoveries. Also, say you’ve been assigned to my special operations group as well, but excluded from any strategic planning.  This should suggest trust issues and keep them placated.”

Sonya nodded. “I’ll frame this meeting as the reason.”

Alander looked at Greg and Sonya. “Any questions?”

Both shook their heads. Thrawn stood. “Captain, have Dr. Richardson and Lt. Kerrigan report here. You’re dismissed.”