PSG XA.00  Mission Narrative:

Bulletin:
	Pilots of the Rebel Squadrons…
	We have been informed of a threat to the Rebellion. And, since the Rebellion Leadership finds this information to be so distasteful and outlandish so as to disregard its importance and validity, it has come down through the channels to us. The Rebel Squadrons Leadership feels the information to be exaggerated, as well, so we have taken it upon ourselves to investigate and pursue this issue ourselves.
	To that end, we're requesting volunteers to aid us on this quest - we've been given that much rein. We've also been given leave to requisition the craft we feel we need to complete any action we judge necessary to complete this investigation successfully. 
	Please contact Vice Admiral Tyrell "Spokes" Borran or Admiral Castor Efrata-Landis as soon as possible.

PSG XO, Admiral Castor Efrata-Landis

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-=Aboard the MC80a Star Cruiser Odin, location classified=-

	Spokes rocked back and forth as he kept his eyes on his companion. "You outrank me, so I can't exactly do anything about what you've done. But, I sure would like you to give me an explanation. You could have blown the whole thing sky high."
	Castor stood facing forward, more or less at attention. "I'm sorry. I figured that I could shake the trees a little bit and see what falls out."
	Spokes rolled up to Castor. If he got any closer, Castor would have bruises on his shins. Castor knew that Spokes was allergic to bacta, along with "replacement parts", while Castor had a good number of replacement parts already, whose grafts and healing had been fully augmented by bacta. Castor felt uncomfortable being face to face with the realization of Spokes' particular challenges. Spokes. Even the handle had to do with his difficulties. The wheelchair was an antique; the kind with wheels, as Admiral Tyrell Borran found gravlift chairs more of a liability than not. So, he settled for the wheeled variety which hadn't been in use since artificial gravity had been discovered. 
	Spokes did not break eye contact with Castor. He wasn't happy. And his displeasure had absolutely nothing to do with his disability, although he may have been of a mind to remove a few of Castor's replacement parts. …with his teeth, if need be. In fact he already had started. Castor's butt was original equipment, but Castor could feel the teeth marks vividly, even though Spokes was in front of him. His eyes narrowed. "Are you having a problem with having me as your CO?"
	Castor squinched his eyebrows together. "You, Sir. No. It's more a matter of having anyone other than Greedo. He's the only officer I've served directly under, since General Aj Loki left. But, no, Sir, I have no such difficulties."
	"Greedo 96…" Spokes pondered. "Rumor has it that he's something like the ninety sixth sequential clone of the original Greedo."
	"Something like that, yes." Castor replied. "He worked for the Emperor, until he finally was able to rebel and get away. It's one of the reasons that the Rebel Squadrons is having more problems than you'd expect for an outer rim Rebellion group. I've been working with him for a good while, and I probably know him better than anyone at this point. When he escaped the Emperor, it didn't just close a chapter in his history, it closed a whole number of lifetimes for him. You'll never hear him say it, or anything even remotely hinting at it, but his life wasn't worth a plugged credit as long as the Emperor could kill him and start over with a new clone any time he wanted to. And he had; ninety four times previously, in fact. Now his life is his own, to squander if he wants, but he chooses to use it to fight against the Empire. And Palpatine. And in doing so he finds his self worth."
	Spokes leaned back. "Understood." He looked at Castor. "You're a bit of a mystery yourself, Admiral."
	"Yes, Sir." Castor nodded, "I am." Castor wasn't very helpful.
	"Why are you here?" Spokes asked.
	"Sir?"
	"It is my understanding that you have no memory from before sometime during your incarceration on Kessel."
	"That's true, Sir," Castor responded. "The saturation of spice… and the constant dark… My master of the tunnel helped me keep my eyesight, and trained me in the ways of the force… kind of… But the cost was my long term memory. Everything I carried of my past before sometime - I have now idea when - in the tunnels is gone. I have no memories of what I did to get there, or almost all of what I did while I was there. I left only with my name, but I don't know that it's my original name. I've had my neural pathways searched, and there are exceedingly few memories before I left Kessel."
	"So what does anyone really know of you?" Spokes asked.
	"I'm sure there are plenty of people who know more about me than I do, Sir." Castor answered, "Although finding them may take some time." Castor considered for a short time, and then said, "I guess the real question is if you can trust me."
	"Agreed, that would be the question." It was Spokes' turn to consider for a moment. "What assurances do I have, considering that you've already acted without my authorization, that you can be trusted?"
	"Sir, I understand your reservations. And I have no unimpeachable reassurances. My rank is real, I've worked hard to achieve it, and probably harder than most, excepting what you've had to overcome. But, even still, I can't prove I'm not a Mole." Castor thought for a moment. "My work in the Academy should speak for my intentions, but, again, that doesn't disprove that I could be a Mole. Anything I might claim, from your point of view is still only my word, which, again, doesn't actually prove anything."
	"So what prevents me from replacing you as my XO?" 
	"Well, Sir," Castor though for a moment. "Nothing. And it's certainly your choice." He hesitated. "The only thing I can do will likely ensure that you trust me even less."
	That statement made Spokes cock an eyebrow.
	"There isn't any way to prepare you for this. So…" Castor stepped backward one step and disappeared. Spokes startled and his hand instinctively reached for his blaster, ready for an attack. "I'm here," Castor said, and reappeared one step to the right of where he had been standing. "It's a mind trick that I learned on Kessel," he said apologetically. "I rearrange the priorities in your mind, lowering me in your perception priorities, and raising everything else. Effectively, it gives me the ability to turn invisible. It doesn't work with wookiees or observation equipment. There's no way to fool wookiees, but the observation equipment is fairly easy to get around. That being said… I could, at any time, commit many atrocities with near impunity."
	"My thoughts exactly," Spokes said as he eased his hand off the blaster.
	"I subscribe to H.I.E.R., however, and although this also doesn't really do anything to reassure you, you, the PSG, the Rebel Squadrons and the Rebellion have nothing to fear from me. …directly, anyway. I do have plenty of enemies, I understand, in the Empire."
	"Don't we all." Spokes chuckled.
	"However," Castor continued. "I've shown you what might be my greatest strength, and my greatest weakness countering it. You can now keep track of me with greater confidence, if you so desire. I would, however, appreciate it if you kept this particular bit of information to yourself."
	"Understood," Spokes said, and finally was mostly reassured. He wouldn't likely track Castor, as the Admiral had suggested he could, but he would verify the accuracy of what he'd just been told by replaying the recording of the last few minutes. "Let's hope you didn't shake more out of the trees than we can handle."
	"Agreed, Sir." Castor saluted, turned and left Spokes' office.
	Spokes rolled over behind his desk, flicked a switch, and replayed the recording. It happened as Castor had said. Spokes knew when the Admiral had disappeared by his own recorded reaction. Castor had taken one step to the right. No flash. No fancy stepping. No wave at the recording devices that he had to know were there. 
	Spokes leaned back in his chair until his back gave a comforting "pop." This is not going to be fun.