Kyle Katarn: The Rise & Fall

Book 1: Rise of a Hero

Part 3

Chapter 1: Foundations of Lies

A/N: Welcome everyone to the reposting of Part 3. Once again, sorry for the long absences. I'm hoping to get some new material written for this part soon!

A/N: So, last chapter the Crow did some fancy sky dancing to avoid a group of Z-95s. And while the bad guys are in retreat after losing one of their own, the Crow is hit badly and is falling out of the sky to who knows what? Well, let's turn the page and see what happens next, shall we?

Rebel Command Ship New Hope

Hangar Bay

Aboard the Aldera

"What do you mean you don't know where Wexter is?" he said disbelievingly

"I mean that I don't know, Galder," she replied.

Biting back an angry retort, Galder forced himself to take a deep breath. He and Alessa stood inside her quarters on the Aldera.

Having spent the bulk of the previous day "preparing" the Aldera for the investigators, it occurred to him that, as unlikely as the prospect seemed, he had to try and get Alessa and Wexter on the same page with him.

If the investigators questioned them separately, they would have to tell the same story, otherwise his carefully built house of cards would crumble.

But as if Kyle missing weren't bad enough, it appeared that Wexter was gone as well.

"This is ridiculous, Alessa, "he said, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Wexter was here yesterday morning when I left to meet with Mon Mothma, wasn't he?"

She didn't respond.

"Well?"

Alessa forced herself not to react to Galder explosions of temper. While not completely sure, she had an idea what had happened to Wexter and Kyle, but she wasn't planning on sharing her thoughts with her brother.

"Yes," she replied to him, exasperation in her tone, "he was."

"And now, he's vanished, as has Kyle and that ship of his. No sign, no trace. And that doesn't make you the least bit suspicious?"

Of course it does, she thought. But I'm not letting you know that.

"Did you ask around?" she offered with a shrug, her overall posture nonchalant.

Galder glared at her, his eyes flashing with repressed anger. "Don't be insulting. Of course I asked around. I checked the hangar bay, the mess hall, and most of the public areas."

"Then have you considered that Mon Mothma might be right about Wexter going along with Kyle?"

"I'm not saying it isn't possible," Galder replied, "It just seems awfully odd that Katarn could kidnap Wexter so blatantly and no one saw it. You're sure Wexter didn't say anything odd before he left yesterday."

"For the last time, no. He said he was going to look over his repairs to Kyle's ship, that's all."

He opened his mouth to ask something else, but she continued.

"What is wrong with you, Galder?" she said, frowning at him, "why are you acting like this?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," he said tightly, "this whole thing just seems awfully convenient, Wexter and Kyle go missing at the same time."

"Galder, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying something's not right here. You are telling me everything, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"You were the last one to see Wexter, Alessa."

She bridled at the near accusation. "All right 'dear brother', that's quite enough."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she plowed on, not pretending anymore. Her memories of that night were still fresh. And the way Galder was acting right now, she wondered if he might hurt her again.

"I'm not done. I don't know what's happening with you lately, but I do not appreciate you speaking to me this way, practically accusing me of something. And given what you did to Kyle and me the other night, you're fortunate that I did not call Security."

Seeing the tears glistening in her eyes and the set of her jaw, Galder realized he was on dangerous ground. He made himself take a deep breath.

Okay, okay. Got to back off a bit. Antagonizing Alessa won't get me anywhere. Maybe she doesn't know anything about Wexter's disappearance. All right Thonx, try it again but tread carefully.

"Alessa," he began, his voice softer, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to accuse you. It's just that…"

She cut him off again. "Stop Galder, just stop. Can't you hear yourself? 'Are you telling me everything?' I'm your sister, not some common criminal."

"Alessa," he said, moving to reach out and touch her.

She moved back quickly, the back of her legs striking the side of her bed. She nearly stumbled. "Stay away! I swear if you try to harm me again, I'll make you suffer you for it."

Galder stopped moving, dropping his arms to his sides. He studied his sister, seeing the mixture of fear and anger in her eyes. It reminded him of a wounded animal. She would attack him, he realized, fearing what he might do to her.

He closed his eyes, carefully considering his next moves. He had blundered badly, taking such an aggressive posture with her, and this was the result.

Perhaps she truly knows nothing about what happened to Wexter. He was still suspicious, but that would have to wait. Right now, he had to salvage this situation before things truly got out of hand.

Letting out another breath, he decided what he needed to do, although it rankled his pride.

Adrenaline whipping through her system, Alessa wondered what Galder was going to do next. She couldn't fight him, nor was she fast enough to get away from him. But…

She sucked in a breath of surprise as Galder settled onto the floor, legs crossed. She was about to ask what he was doing when he spoke up.

"Alessa," he said, his voice gentle, "please don't be afraid of me. I will not hurt you, I promise."

She was about to retort, but he kept going.

"Please hear me. I can't begin say enough how sorry I am about striking you. When I think of it, it hurts, so much. If I could go back and stop myself, I would. I won't try and offer an excuse because was I did was unconscionable. And please believe me when I say that I deeply regret my actions. I never meant to hurt you, and I am sorry."

Seeing the way he was sitting, hearing the tone of his words, some of Alessa's confidence began to return. Maybe she could still talk to him, get him to really listen.

"Are you sorry, Galder? Really sorry? You believe me about Wexter?"

"Yes," he said, the lie coming easily. He looked down at the floor, knowing she would interpret it as him feeling shame. "I do believe you. This whole thing just seems so odd, that it's really frustrating. I just don't understand it."

Now for the hard part, he thought. It took some effort, and some careful jabbing at his eyes. But as he lifted his head to face Alessa again, Galder could feel it had worked.

Alessa breath caught in her throat as her brother looked up at her. There were actually tears in his eyes. That alone was a surprise. Galder was rarely emotional, even around family.

"I am truly sorry Alessa," he said, eyes brimming, "please believe me."

He looked down again, feeling the smile coming to his face. C'mon, Thonx, he thought, you're supposed to be sad, not amused.

But any additional effort was spared as Alessa stood up from the bed and moved over to where he was. Kneeling so they were face-to-face. She laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I believe you."

Yes!

He turned his head enough to look up at Alessa. Her eyes were shining; unshed tears in them.

"I…" he began.

"Ssshhh," she said.

Feeling the gentle pressure on his shoulder, Galder allowed Alessa to pull him up so they were eye-to-eye again.

She pulled him into a hug.

Now that she couldn't see him, Galder let the smile come to his face. Once again, his cunning had rescued him from a bad situation. There remained only one thing to add.

"I love you, little sister."

He could almost feel her smile.

I am good, he thought smugly

Planet Ergo

"How does it look?"

"Indicators are all good. You ready?"

Crossing his fingers, Wexter called, "Go for it."

Reaching to the control panel, Kyle activated the sequence.

Both men waited the interminable three seconds it took for power to flow down to the Moldy Crow's repulsors, Kyle in the cockpit, Wexter standing outside the ship.

And… nothing.

"No response," said Kyle.

"You're sure the backup circuits are online?" Wexter asked.

"As far as I can tell."

"Okay, let me get down and here look." Mud squelched between the older man's fingers and onto his clothes as he got down on hands and knees to look underneath the ship.

The ship sat in the midst of a stand of trees, their limbs creating different patterns of shade on the Crow's hull as a weak breeze moved through them.

Beyond the trees however, the ground was no less than a quagmire, a thick mud that stuck to everything, making Wexter's repairs all the more challenging aside from his lack of tools save the Crow's small toolkit.

He reached for an access panel, muttering "maybe it's the…" he began when the repulsors came on, at full power. Wexter tried to move back fast, but it was too late.

In the cockpit, Kyle saw the status light turn to green even as the Crow leapt into the air.

He grabbed for the controls, but not before there came a sound of thunderous impact as the Crow smashed into several overhanging branches.

Kyle pulled back on the throttle, but there was no response. The repulsors continued to fire, trying to push the ship higher even as the trees resisted it. Alarms began to sound.

"C'mon," he said, trying the throttle again, "c'mon." It didn't work.

There was one other choice, but Kyle wondered what it would do to the ship.

Not like I have much of a choice, he thought, reaching for the ignition switch.

On the ground, having been blown away several feet away by the windblast, Wexter looked up just in time as the Crow fell back out of the sky.

Fortunately, the nearly liquefied ground provided a cushion as the landing skids struck it, sinking in.

Inside the cockpit, Kyle had braced himself, but still felt the impact reverberate throughout the ship. It took nearly a minute for the bouncing and lurching to stop.

That was not fun, he thought as he opened the cockpit. Although when he compared it to their near crash landing the day before, this one was a little better. He gazed at an area off to his left where several broken tree branches littered the ground. Had it not been for the trees arresting their fall somewhat, he and Wexter might not have survived.

Speaking of Wexter, he thought, where is he?

"Wexter?" he called, stepping down to the ground.

"Over here," a voice called.

Kyle turned in that direction, but didn't see the man. Then, a portion of the mud began to move and lift. It took another moment for Kyle to make out the features of Wexter's face.

"What happened to you?"

"Well, let's see," Wexter said, carefully cleaning the area around his eyes and nose, "first you knocked me to the ground with that full power start, then when you 'landed', I got a faceful of muck."

"I'd say more than a faceful," Kyle said wryly.

"It's not funny."

Kyle felt his lip twitch. "Yes it is."

"No," Wexter said seriously, "it isn't."

Kyle began to chuckle, then to laugh.

"It isn't!"

That only made Kyle laugh harder.

Grabbing a handful of the mud covering him, Wexter drew back his arm and hurled it, drawing some satisfaction as the blob struck Kyle squarely in the face.

"Yuck!" Kyle exclaimed, coughing and spitting as some of the muck got into his mouth.

Now it was Wexter's turn to smile. "Y'know, Kyle, I take it back. This is funny."

Never one to be one-upped so easily, Kyle reached down for his own handful of mud. Seeing this, Wexter similarly armed himself.

The two men stared at each other, waiting to see who would act first.

Suddenly, the air around them was shattered as a ship flashed overhead. Both men turned to see an all too familiar shape moving away at high speed.

"Great," Kyle said, "So what do we do?"

For a moment, Wexter didn't answer. Then, his eyes going wide, he snapped his fingers.

"I've got an idea! Wait here a second!"

"Okay," Kyle replied, as Wexter clambered aboard the Crow, brushing off what mud he could.

As he closed the cockpit, Kyle began to wonder what exactly the old engineer was planning.

The answer came as the blast from the Crow's repulsors struck him. The impact knocked Kyle off his feet.

Even as he fell to the ground, the mud making the impact a bit softer, Kyle couldn't believe what his senses were telling him.

This can't be happening. It isn't happening. But as he watched, the Crow rose into the air, a muffled boom telling him the engines had lit off. The next thing he knew, the ship was streaking away.

What in the universe is Wexter doing? For that matter, where is he going? A sudden thought came to him. What if Wexter was in league with Galder? What if he had agreed to pilot only to strand me here?

Although his logical mind told him this was foolish thinking, Kyle couldn't help but wonder as the Crow moved away from him.

"Wexter!" he yelled after the retreating ship.

As if the older man had somehow heard, the Crow reversed its course, heading back towards his position.

Oh-kay, Kyle thought, what are you doing now, Wexter?

Later, Kyle wouldn't be able to explain how he knew; only that he felt an acute sense of danger. And, as he stepped back towards the edge of the trees, his concern was well founded as the Crow opened fire.

A group of trees about 400 yards away erupted into flame.

"What the…?" Kyle said aloud.

Another group of trees, closer to him, exploded into flames, then another.

Realizing that the laser fire was tracking towards him, Kyle did the only thing he could do against his own ship, he ran.

Bursting out of the trees, arms pumping, Kyle dashed across the ground, plainly visible now. The sound of a new explosion caused him to look back. Less than a hundred yards away, a mixture of brown-black earth erupted into the air.

He's really doing it! He's trying to kill me! Blast you, Wex…

The rest of his thought was cut off as the Crow's lasers struck the ground just behind him. The explosion lifted Kyle off his feet, throwing him some five feet or so before he struck the ground. The air was driven from his lungs, the momentum causing him to roll over several times before he came to rest with his face pressed into the ground.

As his oxygen starved brain screamed for air, Kyle found the strength to roll over onto his back. He took several deep breaths, coughing up a bit of dirt with the first exhalations. His chest, back and legs all hurt, although the pain was manageable. And as the sound of a repulsor close by came to his ears, Kyle realized that his current state might be the least of his worries. Sunlight dazzled his eyes, and he to raise an arm to shade them before he was able to make out the shape of the Moldy Crow hovering a short distance away, its lasers cannons trained on him.

"Wexter," he called weakly, "what are you doing?"

The response came through the Crow's external speakers. "I'm doing what needs to be done, Kyle."

"But why?"

Wexter actually had the nerve to smile at him. "I thought the why is quite evident, Kyle."

So that's it, Kyle thought, it's just as I feared. Somehow, somehow Galder got to Wexter, convinced him to get rid of me. And my mission provided the perfect method.

Well, I guess this is it, Kyle mused, thinking of Jan. I'm sorry I can't come back to you, Jan.

Closing his eyes, he waited for the final moment of his life.

"One!"

"I see it, Gamma Three," said the lead Z-95 pilot, "arm your weapons, we're going in."

"Roger, Gamma One. I want that ship, Lead," Three had said, "For what he did to Two."

Gamma One took a moment to muse about Gamma Three's change of attitude. Normally, the other pilot didn't express his feelings, hiding it behind a caustic attitude. When they had arrived back at base, Gamma Three wouldn't discuss what had happened beyond what they reported to Frenden, disappearing until early this morning when One began prepping his ship.

One moment he was alone, the next the pilot of Gamma Three was there, moving towards his own ship, not returning the greeting One called to him. Once they were airborne, Three had responded with one-word answers to his questions, his voice emotionless, almost cold.

Gamma One suspected that despite his attitude, Gamma Three had actually liked the pilot of Gamma Two and with his death, had only one goal in mind, revenge.

Gamma One shared his wingman's feelings. Gamma Lead had nodded. Two had been a promising pilot and now he was dead. And the pilot of the enemy ship would pay for what he had done.

"Gamma One," called Gamma Three, "it appears the enemy ship is making a run for it."

"Pursuit course. Open fire as soon as you're in range."

"Roger."

The Z-95s streaked towards the enemy ship, waiting for the opportunity to fire.

But suddenly, the enemy ship whipped around, reversing course.

"One!"

"I see it, Gamma Three. Take the overshoot. We'll come around and get behind him again."

"Roger, Gamma One."

Slicing through the space occupied by the enemy ship only a moment ago, the Z-95s made a hard turn, moving back in behind the enemy ship.

As they flew back towards a large stand of trees, Gamma One saw the last thing he expected to see. He was to call his wingman when Gamma Three signaled.

"Gamma One. The enemy ship… is he firing?"

The lead Z-95 studied the fleeing vessel for a moment. "Confirmed, Gamma Three. He's going after something. I don't…"

Just then, a figure burst out of a stand of trees.

"Gamma Three, I've got someone on the ground."

"Confirmed, Gamma One. He's running from…" One, I think he's running from the enemy ship.

It took only a moment more for Gamma One to confirm that the enemy ship was indeed going after the fleeing figure. The pilots watched as the ships' lasers blasted a section of earth.

Silently, the lead Z-95 pilot urged the fleeing figure. Dodge, you've got to dodge, he's going to…

"One!"

"I see it, Three!"

The enemy ship had blown apart another section of earth, sending the figure flying into the air. He struck the ground hard.

The enemy ship turned hard to face the figure as he began to rise from the ground.

"Gamma One, the enemy ship, is he going to…?"

"Whatever he's going to do, we're going to stop him, Gamma Three. Scissors attack on my mark."

They drew closer, both pilots waiting out the interminable seconds to optimum weapons range.

"One, I think the enemy ship is about to fire."

"Almost there, Three. Hold, hold, hold…. NOW!"

Gamma One turned his fighter hard to the right, streaking past his wingman, who had cut to the left.

Staring directly into Wexter eyes, Kyle waited for death.

But suddenly, with the scream of ion engines, two Z-95s crisscrossed over the space he occupied.

A second later, the Crow's shield flared brightly as laser fire struck them.

"The enemy ship's shields are up, One!"

"I can see that, Three. Let's bring 'em around. Same attack pattern."

In the cockpit of the Crow, Wexter checked the shield display.

"73 percent," he said, "not bad. But this isn't over yet."

This time, as the fighters approached, Kyle covered his head as they shot overhead. A heartbeat later, he heard the sound of laser impact.

The Crow's shields flared even more brightly. But still, the ship didn't move.

Raising his head, he gazed at Wexter, who almost looked bored.

"Either finish it or leave, Wexter!"

"Gladly," came back the reply, "I done what I've needed to do. Goodbye, Kyle."

Kyle dove down into dirt as the ship's repulsors fired, scattering debris all around him. A moment later, the Crow rose into the air, moving away.

Rolling onto his back, Kyle watched it go, feeling angrier than he had ever been before.

"Blast you, Wexter! I swear that I'm gonna come find you someday and kill you for what you've done!"

"Nice job, Gamma Three. The enemy ship is moving away."

"Do we pursue?"

"Either he leaves or he dies, Three. Go!"

But try as they might, the enemy ship had gotten too big of a head start. The best they could do was to pursue it into the upper atmosphere.

"He's getting away, One!"

"Nothing we can do, Three."

They followed the ship into space, not falling back until, with the flicker of pseudomotion, the enemy ship disappeared into hyperspace.

"Blast!" said Gamma Three, "he got away."

"We did the best we could, Three. Let's head back planet side. I want to check on whoever that was the ship was attacking."

"Roger."

Kyle lay there on the ground, alternating between feeling more rage and more hopelessness than he had ever felt in his life.

A thousand questions pounded inside his brain. Why? How?

I can't believe I trusted that backstabbing bastard! If I find a way off this rock, I'll make him pay!

Even as he thought this, Kyle couldn't help but wonder why Wexter had done it. Nothing of what he knew of the man suggested someone who would do such a thing. And yet he had.

Well, lying here isn't going to do me any good. I've got to get to cover, find some food and water and figure out what to do next. If only…

His heart thumped painfully as he thought of Jan. If only she had been with him, none of this would have happened. She could be a pain in the ass, but Kyle knew he could trust no matter the mission, no matter the challenge.

Oh Jan, I wish you were here. I wish you could hear me.

It suddenly occurred to Kyle what he was thinking. He was surprised at the depth of his feelings. Since leaving home, he had depended on no one but himself, trusted no one other than himself.

But when it came to Jan Ors, he just knew. There was nothing hidden about her. She was right out front about how what she believed and how she felt. Despite the times of anger, frustration and separation, Kyle knew that through it all, he could trust Jan.

She would always be his friend, but was that enough? Was that all he wanted from their relationship?

This is crazy. I'm stranded on a desert world, no means of escape, and I'm thinking about this?

And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about her, her face, the sound of her voice.

Do I love her?

He considered that, but… No, it's not love. At least I don't think it is. But I definitely feel something for her. And it's more than just friendship.

Further ruminations were interrupted as the sound of repulsors reached his ears.

Looking up, Kyle saw the Z-95 descending towards him.

Great! Now what do I do?